Patience...
Let me confess, I laughed as well. Yes I did, there was no way I could hold it back. But after observing the ridicule she received after her news conference, I kinda felt bad for her. So I've decided to come to Her Excellency's defence. I plead with everyone to be objective and unbiased in their analysis of her comments. I'll highlight the key sections of her comments that triggered the reaction.
"All this blood sharing in Borno..."
Now before you start laughing again, you have to admit that she does have a point. Roughly 200 girls were alleged to have been kidnapped and not a single witness can say exactly how or when it happened. Was it at night? Or during the day? Surely the Boko Haram terrorists must be vampires. How else can we explain their elusive nature. They leave a trail of blood behind and not a soul can see them coming. Vampires!
"Chai"...
There's not much mystery about this phrase. It is simply an exclamation of trepidation borne out of frustration. What would be your first reaction if you ran into Wesley Snipes in his full "Blade" regalia? Now visualize a vampire chilling next to your window at night. The simple thought of that image would cause you to say "Chai". Other phrases can be substituted for it, but "chai" best captures the emotion.
"Dia ris God o..."At this point, I'm sure you understand why she said this. Do the math: Human forces alone can't stop vampires. Clearly spiritual forces are required. Considering how ineffective our soldiers have been in the battle against Boko Haram, I believe it was only prudent that Patience reminded the terrorists about the existence of a far superior spiritual power.
Now when you put that information together, the only missing link was an interpreter. It would have been perfect if she had an interpreter in the mold of the congressman from Edo state (Patrick Obahiagbon I believe, the last name is kinda tough), known for his deep understanding of the English language. Any man who can use "political higi-haga and economic hara-kiri" in a sentence is qualified to decode spiritual language as well. I bet he could have easily translated her words:
"All this blood sharing in Borno, chai, chaiii, dia ris God o"
translated as
"This incessant vampiric activity in Borno, damn, reprehensible, the presence of God cannot be doubted..."
That wasn't so hard, abi? I know we've all had our laughs at Patience's expense, but let's cut her some slack. If the pre-requisite educational level for a political office in Nigeria is a secondary school degree, we shouldn't expect too much from the spouses of political office holders. I know she 'represents' the President, but our fault finding should be with whatever points she raised, not her grammar or diction. The public bashing is a bit too extreme. I'm sure she didn't mean to speak incorrect English, but let's not ridicule her forever.
In other news, the entertainment world was shocked this week by a video of Sola punching and kicking my guy Jigga. When I watched the video, I was shocked o. Sola was really fired up, if she had a weapon with her, she could have used it. It is amazing how a moment of insanity can cause you alot of wahala. Now assuming Jigga pressed charges, it would have broken the family. Chaiiiiii!
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Naija: Daytime Nightmare
Almost 3 years ago, I blogged about the Boko Haram menace in Nigeria (http://air-mecca.blogspot.com/2011/08/heart-of-man.html) Back then, the situation was bleak, but right now it seems like we've finally managed to unlock Pandora's box. Nigeria is at war, our leaders refuse to admit it, instead they argue and point fingers at each other while the death toll keeps mounting. Back in 2011, I had my own theories and ideas about how to tackle the problem but right now my mind is blank.
How do you fight a daytime nightmare? Stay awake and resist sleep? Keep the lights on at night and seek the comfort of other people in daytime? Focus on pretty things and keep a positive outlook? You can only run for so long...Gradually, your eyes will grow heavy, your vision will become blurry, and as hard as you try to fight it, sleep will creep in like a long lost lover whispering soothing words in your ear. Eventually your eyes will close, your chest rising and falling slowly as you embrace the lullaby of dreams, whilst reality gives way to the hazy world of your imagination. When your eyes finally regain focus, there is no escape from the monsters that your imagination has created...
I've always wondered how the Nazi soldiers at the concentration camps during the Jewish Holocaust (WW2) were able to sleep at night. The heart of man is wicked, and it is shocking to see the depths people would sink to in the quest for power. I refuse to believe that Boko Haram is just a religious sect. The audacity and brazeness with which they carry out their attacks transcends the actions of "a religious sect". The sheer frequency and scale of their attacks are tell-tale signs of a well funded and sophisticated militia group. We are neither dealing with religious renegades employing guerrila tactics nor a band of fanatics intent on curbing western education. The moniker "Boko Haram" is just a ruse for the sinister monsters who infiltrated them to unleash havoc and run the country.
The Bible advises us to pray for our leaders, but I have to admit that I'm finding it pretty hard sending prayers to the heavenly hosts on behalf of our current crop of leaders. Campaigning for Goodluck Jonathan to resign is not an option, he is our leader, whether he likes it or not, the mantle of responsibility falls on him. If he steps down due to the pressure, then the message we are sending to the world is that we are a "community", not a nation. Nigeria is not a social club where leaders throw in the towel in surrender. A President simply does not step down because the job is "tough". He campaigned to be President, he has to live up to his role. It doesn't matter if he was "selected" and not elected. Mothers bring children into this world, the infants don't have a say in the matter. But when the child gets to a certain age, he/she can make his own decisions regardless of what his/her parents say. So our president needs to man up, no excuses.
As for the monsters behind this menace, time will tell...
For concerned citizens, I don't know if there's much that we can do except to keep asking the leaders we voted into power to step up to their responsibilities. The only other option is to take up arms and chase shadows.
Also keep praying, something has to give...
How do you fight a daytime nightmare? Stay awake and resist sleep? Keep the lights on at night and seek the comfort of other people in daytime? Focus on pretty things and keep a positive outlook? You can only run for so long...Gradually, your eyes will grow heavy, your vision will become blurry, and as hard as you try to fight it, sleep will creep in like a long lost lover whispering soothing words in your ear. Eventually your eyes will close, your chest rising and falling slowly as you embrace the lullaby of dreams, whilst reality gives way to the hazy world of your imagination. When your eyes finally regain focus, there is no escape from the monsters that your imagination has created...
I've always wondered how the Nazi soldiers at the concentration camps during the Jewish Holocaust (WW2) were able to sleep at night. The heart of man is wicked, and it is shocking to see the depths people would sink to in the quest for power. I refuse to believe that Boko Haram is just a religious sect. The audacity and brazeness with which they carry out their attacks transcends the actions of "a religious sect". The sheer frequency and scale of their attacks are tell-tale signs of a well funded and sophisticated militia group. We are neither dealing with religious renegades employing guerrila tactics nor a band of fanatics intent on curbing western education. The moniker "Boko Haram" is just a ruse for the sinister monsters who infiltrated them to unleash havoc and run the country.
The Bible advises us to pray for our leaders, but I have to admit that I'm finding it pretty hard sending prayers to the heavenly hosts on behalf of our current crop of leaders. Campaigning for Goodluck Jonathan to resign is not an option, he is our leader, whether he likes it or not, the mantle of responsibility falls on him. If he steps down due to the pressure, then the message we are sending to the world is that we are a "community", not a nation. Nigeria is not a social club where leaders throw in the towel in surrender. A President simply does not step down because the job is "tough". He campaigned to be President, he has to live up to his role. It doesn't matter if he was "selected" and not elected. Mothers bring children into this world, the infants don't have a say in the matter. But when the child gets to a certain age, he/she can make his own decisions regardless of what his/her parents say. So our president needs to man up, no excuses.
As for the monsters behind this menace, time will tell...
For concerned citizens, I don't know if there's much that we can do except to keep asking the leaders we voted into power to step up to their responsibilities. The only other option is to take up arms and chase shadows.
Also keep praying, something has to give...
Friday, December 27, 2013
2014 Countdown Numero Uno
The year is almost over! Yipeee! 2013 has been a WONDERFUL year for me, I don't even know where to start. I apologize for the long absence, I actually had alot to write but never got around to putting the words down. Now if only someone could invent a device that wirelessly transcribes our thoughts into words, life would be so easy...A few items have been on my mind lately, so I'll just ramble a bit...
This year I read quite a number of books by Nigerian/African authors and it rekindled the fire and passion I once had for anything African. I have to admit that our Nigerian authors are very gifted and deserve alot of commendation. "Americannah" by Chimamanda was nice, it felt like she was writing her story because I could identify with the protagonist (life as an international student). Other authors that caught my eye include Seyi Atta (Swallow/Everything Good will come), Adaobi Nwabuani ( I do not come to you by chance), E.C. Osondu (BBC), Chika Unigwe (On Black Sister's street), but to mention a few. The Naijastories website is also a brilliant concept, there seems to be a rejuvenation of the reading culture and that is a fantastic trend. I still recall reading Wole Soyinka's "Ake" many years ago, still remains one of the best books I've ever read. So in 2014, try to make out a little time and read a few african/nigerian books, you'll be surprised. My new plan for 2014 is to 'sample' a few Nollywood movies, I have to admit (ashamed) that I've always been a big Nollywood critic/basher. I have watched just 2 Nigerian movies in the past 10 years (shame dey catch me) and thanks to Myne Whitman and my rediscovered patriotism, I've decided to support rather than criticize. My first project will be to watch "The Meeting" by Rita Dominic, the trailers look appetizing.
On a more serious note, the current crisis in South Sudan and Central African Republic is depressing. I honestly don't know the root of Africa's problems. I read a few history books about the colonialization of Africa by Europe between the mid 1800s and 1900s, and it was eye opening. In an indirect way, we can trace the roots of all our problems back to those days. Maybe we would have remained content as separate tribes, with our unique and individual traditions, but the truth is that modernization or westernization was and still is inevitable. There is this great divide in African nations, along religious and tribal lines that inevitably builds cracks and craters along economic and political lines. The troublesome trend is that when the angst rears its head in the political and economic sphere, the tribal and religious angle suffers the backlash. During the days of racial tensions in the West, there was this misguided interpretation of the privilege of 'skin color', a tangible differentiator that a bunch of fanatics jumped on, magnified and manipulated into maltreating a whole race. But when I look at African countries torn apart by wars and periodic genocide, I can't place a finger on a tangible reason for neighbors to fight except for the sole fact that neighbors are meant to be separated by walls and boundaries, not forced to be subject to one authority. "The problem with Africa is..." you can fill the blank, it is a sad situation.
Life as a married man has been wonderful. I am a 'modern man' which roughly translates to: I'm not the conventional guy, I believe marriage is a partnership and a journey that 2 friends should enjoy, with both parties willing to make sacrifices, the ultimate of which is love. I am not a fan of feminism, neither do I subscribe to patriarchy, I simply believe in love and equality. I've learnt alot from being married and it has made me a better man. Sometimes I get upset when I read or hear about people's (Nigerians and Africans in general) attitude to marriage or being single. We truly need a 'reorientation', a redefinition of our supposed culture, which people throw up in arguments. I don't know about you, but culture is supposed to adapt to people, not people to culture. I want a world where a girl/boy will be free to decide if/when/who, he/she wants to marry without pressure from society, a society where men and women would look beyond gender and treat everyone with EQUAL respect, that is my hope for the future.
Before I sign off, if you are not a fan of Breaking Bad, I highly recommend that you watch the series. It was one of the best shows ever written (in my humble biased opinion). As for Scandal, I don dey tire for Olivia Pope. I'm looking forward to "The Walking Dead" in 2014 though, beautiful but sad...
I'll possibly go on a blogging spree and write post for each day left till the year is over, lol. Anyway, we have just 4 days to go, let's take time out count our blessings, reflect on the year and start prepping for 2014...May our hustle never knock engine!
This year I read quite a number of books by Nigerian/African authors and it rekindled the fire and passion I once had for anything African. I have to admit that our Nigerian authors are very gifted and deserve alot of commendation. "Americannah" by Chimamanda was nice, it felt like she was writing her story because I could identify with the protagonist (life as an international student). Other authors that caught my eye include Seyi Atta (Swallow/Everything Good will come), Adaobi Nwabuani ( I do not come to you by chance), E.C. Osondu (BBC), Chika Unigwe (On Black Sister's street), but to mention a few. The Naijastories website is also a brilliant concept, there seems to be a rejuvenation of the reading culture and that is a fantastic trend. I still recall reading Wole Soyinka's "Ake" many years ago, still remains one of the best books I've ever read. So in 2014, try to make out a little time and read a few african/nigerian books, you'll be surprised. My new plan for 2014 is to 'sample' a few Nollywood movies, I have to admit (ashamed) that I've always been a big Nollywood critic/basher. I have watched just 2 Nigerian movies in the past 10 years (shame dey catch me) and thanks to Myne Whitman and my rediscovered patriotism, I've decided to support rather than criticize. My first project will be to watch "The Meeting" by Rita Dominic, the trailers look appetizing.
On a more serious note, the current crisis in South Sudan and Central African Republic is depressing. I honestly don't know the root of Africa's problems. I read a few history books about the colonialization of Africa by Europe between the mid 1800s and 1900s, and it was eye opening. In an indirect way, we can trace the roots of all our problems back to those days. Maybe we would have remained content as separate tribes, with our unique and individual traditions, but the truth is that modernization or westernization was and still is inevitable. There is this great divide in African nations, along religious and tribal lines that inevitably builds cracks and craters along economic and political lines. The troublesome trend is that when the angst rears its head in the political and economic sphere, the tribal and religious angle suffers the backlash. During the days of racial tensions in the West, there was this misguided interpretation of the privilege of 'skin color', a tangible differentiator that a bunch of fanatics jumped on, magnified and manipulated into maltreating a whole race. But when I look at African countries torn apart by wars and periodic genocide, I can't place a finger on a tangible reason for neighbors to fight except for the sole fact that neighbors are meant to be separated by walls and boundaries, not forced to be subject to one authority. "The problem with Africa is..." you can fill the blank, it is a sad situation.
Life as a married man has been wonderful. I am a 'modern man' which roughly translates to: I'm not the conventional guy, I believe marriage is a partnership and a journey that 2 friends should enjoy, with both parties willing to make sacrifices, the ultimate of which is love. I am not a fan of feminism, neither do I subscribe to patriarchy, I simply believe in love and equality. I've learnt alot from being married and it has made me a better man. Sometimes I get upset when I read or hear about people's (Nigerians and Africans in general) attitude to marriage or being single. We truly need a 'reorientation', a redefinition of our supposed culture, which people throw up in arguments. I don't know about you, but culture is supposed to adapt to people, not people to culture. I want a world where a girl/boy will be free to decide if/when/who, he/she wants to marry without pressure from society, a society where men and women would look beyond gender and treat everyone with EQUAL respect, that is my hope for the future.
Before I sign off, if you are not a fan of Breaking Bad, I highly recommend that you watch the series. It was one of the best shows ever written (in my humble biased opinion). As for Scandal, I don dey tire for Olivia Pope. I'm looking forward to "The Walking Dead" in 2014 though, beautiful but sad...
I'll possibly go on a blogging spree and write post for each day left till the year is over, lol. Anyway, we have just 4 days to go, let's take time out count our blessings, reflect on the year and start prepping for 2014...May our hustle never knock engine!
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Dilated Pupils
"...He closed his eyes, struggling to recall what the sunset looked like, the novelists always depicted the image as picturesque, but in the hazy fugue state of temporary blindness, all he could picture was shadows and blurred lines. "So this is what it feels like", he said to himself, a rueful smile crossing his lips as monochromatic shades flickered in his vision with every blink...
He brought out his phone, squinting and peeking at it, amazed at how the once sharp features which previously glared at him with digital defiance and clarity, now looked hazy like symbols buried beneath sand dunes in the persian desert. Bold edges smoothened out into curves, bright colors softened by invisible hands that left smudges where rainbows once bloomed brightly
The only distinct color was red, he could see it with his eyes closed. Soft red hues, not bright, like the color of sun baked earth reminiscent of his childhood days on the streets of the coal city. The red mist didnt hang like a halo, instead it was suspended like a cloud that had been dipped in red dye, just a quick dip, akin to a lapse and decline into temptation to gauge the impact of sin on a pristine nature.
He squeezed his eyes tight shut and the red hue melted in to a black hole, a crater of emptiness with no boundaries, boundless to infinity. But the red hue prevailed, creeping back gradually as the muscles of his eyes relaxed, slowly swallowing the black abyss with warmth, till it cast a glow of victory. He stretched out his hand, reaching for a memory, a solid frame to reawaken his senses. And as his hand moved, the red mist faded, growing dull as the sunlight receeded, giving way till it merged into a pool of calmness, the color of tepid tea..."
Excerpts from my thoughts after a routine eye exam...
He brought out his phone, squinting and peeking at it, amazed at how the once sharp features which previously glared at him with digital defiance and clarity, now looked hazy like symbols buried beneath sand dunes in the persian desert. Bold edges smoothened out into curves, bright colors softened by invisible hands that left smudges where rainbows once bloomed brightly
The only distinct color was red, he could see it with his eyes closed. Soft red hues, not bright, like the color of sun baked earth reminiscent of his childhood days on the streets of the coal city. The red mist didnt hang like a halo, instead it was suspended like a cloud that had been dipped in red dye, just a quick dip, akin to a lapse and decline into temptation to gauge the impact of sin on a pristine nature.
He squeezed his eyes tight shut and the red hue melted in to a black hole, a crater of emptiness with no boundaries, boundless to infinity. But the red hue prevailed, creeping back gradually as the muscles of his eyes relaxed, slowly swallowing the black abyss with warmth, till it cast a glow of victory. He stretched out his hand, reaching for a memory, a solid frame to reawaken his senses. And as his hand moved, the red mist faded, growing dull as the sunlight receeded, giving way till it merged into a pool of calmness, the color of tepid tea..."
Excerpts from my thoughts after a routine eye exam...
Friday, September 27, 2013
Le Fart & A Rant
The sun's rays filter in through the slightly parted window shades, casting warm glows on the tousled bed sheets. Outside the birds chirp merrily, an occasional high octave tune carried by the waves of the sun-warmed springtime morning breeze. Inside the room, beneath the sheets, she lay snug in the warmth of the niche carved by their intertwined limbs. A soft smile on her lips, her beauty captivating, even while asleep. The tranquility of the moment was ripped apart by the sound of a loud fart braaaaapp brraaaappp!
"What the hell was that?" She yelled as she scrambled out of the bed in panic.
"Nothing hun, I just messed", He replied bemused.
"You just messed? That was a fart?" The look of shock in her eyes and the tinge of disbelief in her voice was as clear as the call to morning prayer on the streets of Maidugiri.
"Yes o, a belch from the gluteus maximus," he responded happily For some odd reason an image of Gandalf from Lord of the Rings had just popped up in his head and gluteus maximus sounded rather apt as opposed to 'ass'. After all, she started it, who refers to 'mess' as 'fart' anyway?
"Come back to bed jor, you are acting like you've never heard someone mess before,"
But she didn't budge, now the shock in her eyes had given way to a look of suspicion.
"How come I can't smell anything?" She quipped, her voice quavering a little.
Puzzled, he sniffed the air, his nostrils twitching and flaring furiously as he sought the tell-tale scent of toxic human gas.
"Na wah o, see as we are analyzing mess like Sherlock Holmes. Come back to bed boo, it is not that serious. You should be thanking God that the smell is not proportional to the amplitude.", he muttered.
Slowly she backed away from the bed, her eyes darting around the room like a caged prey. Inwards, her brain was screaming in full panic mode, flee while you have the chance o, this is how Oscar Pistorius killed his fiancee and blamed it on non-existent house burglars!
Her eyes grew with alarm as she saw the bulge beneath the sheet where he lay. Was that the weapon ? To think that she had fallen for this serial killer's charm last night and followed him to his apartment without any suspicion. Chineke, he could have easily killed me while I was overdosed with good sex and sleep. The bastard's eyes were not moving from her right now and he had a glazed maniac expression on his face, the quiet drool of a predator about to pounce, she thought to herself, her panic increasing.
On the bed, he was licking his lips in his best LL Cool J style impression, his mind aflame with thots. Dayuuum! See how she is backing away to run and dive into my bed, he thought. Beneath the sheets, the tell-tale sign of his charged manhood pushed and strained against the sheet. His eyes glazed over in anticipation as he waited for her, his mind chanting "wa gba control".
Suddenly the pungent smell of putrified human gas wafted to her nose as her back touched the wall...automatically she switched from being the prey to the predator. "Jizos, how can you be so gross!". Realizing that he had just committed romantic hara-kiri, he sought to maintain his cool and reignite the atmosphere that was rapidly fading, but the pungent smell had hit him too, the bulge beneath the sheet shrivelling faster than the ice peaks of kilimanjaro. Quickly he tried to seize the moment, "I'm not feeling well...
To be continued...
3 Expressions/Phrases that I DISLIKE
1. Turn Up
Arguably the most used phrase this year. Blame my dislike for the word on its frequent use by Nigerians on social media. The origin of this expression is unknown, but it rubs my mental vocabulary the wrong way. Turn up at a party, club, wedding, even in church...are you kidding me? How about "Shup UP" and just have fun! Grrrrr...
2. Bruv
First of all, I don't like being referred to as "Brother X", even in church. I have one biological brother and he doesn't call me "Brother". Now some folks like to take famzing to a higher level, uncertified Brit accent et al, "Whad up bruv"...Seriously? You are Nigerian, you live in Lagos, stop it!
3. Innit
I don't even want to get started on this. If you consciously program your mind to use a word because it sounds cool, then it isn't natural, is it? or innit? Some words are best left as they are, and some slangs should never cross the atlantic ocean. "Innit" should not be granted a verbal visa to the shores of Naija.
Okay my rant is over, you can add yours :)
"What the hell was that?" She yelled as she scrambled out of the bed in panic.
"Nothing hun, I just messed", He replied bemused.
"You just messed? That was a fart?" The look of shock in her eyes and the tinge of disbelief in her voice was as clear as the call to morning prayer on the streets of Maidugiri.
"Yes o, a belch from the gluteus maximus," he responded happily For some odd reason an image of Gandalf from Lord of the Rings had just popped up in his head and gluteus maximus sounded rather apt as opposed to 'ass'. After all, she started it, who refers to 'mess' as 'fart' anyway?
"Come back to bed jor, you are acting like you've never heard someone mess before,"
But she didn't budge, now the shock in her eyes had given way to a look of suspicion.
"How come I can't smell anything?" She quipped, her voice quavering a little.
Puzzled, he sniffed the air, his nostrils twitching and flaring furiously as he sought the tell-tale scent of toxic human gas.
"Na wah o, see as we are analyzing mess like Sherlock Holmes. Come back to bed boo, it is not that serious. You should be thanking God that the smell is not proportional to the amplitude.", he muttered.
Slowly she backed away from the bed, her eyes darting around the room like a caged prey. Inwards, her brain was screaming in full panic mode, flee while you have the chance o, this is how Oscar Pistorius killed his fiancee and blamed it on non-existent house burglars!
Her eyes grew with alarm as she saw the bulge beneath the sheet where he lay. Was that the weapon ? To think that she had fallen for this serial killer's charm last night and followed him to his apartment without any suspicion. Chineke, he could have easily killed me while I was overdosed with good sex and sleep. The bastard's eyes were not moving from her right now and he had a glazed maniac expression on his face, the quiet drool of a predator about to pounce, she thought to herself, her panic increasing.
On the bed, he was licking his lips in his best LL Cool J style impression, his mind aflame with thots. Dayuuum! See how she is backing away to run and dive into my bed, he thought. Beneath the sheets, the tell-tale sign of his charged manhood pushed and strained against the sheet. His eyes glazed over in anticipation as he waited for her, his mind chanting "wa gba control".
Suddenly the pungent smell of putrified human gas wafted to her nose as her back touched the wall...automatically she switched from being the prey to the predator. "Jizos, how can you be so gross!". Realizing that he had just committed romantic hara-kiri, he sought to maintain his cool and reignite the atmosphere that was rapidly fading, but the pungent smell had hit him too, the bulge beneath the sheet shrivelling faster than the ice peaks of kilimanjaro. Quickly he tried to seize the moment, "I'm not feeling well...
To be continued...
3 Expressions/Phrases that I DISLIKE
1. Turn Up
Arguably the most used phrase this year. Blame my dislike for the word on its frequent use by Nigerians on social media. The origin of this expression is unknown, but it rubs my mental vocabulary the wrong way. Turn up at a party, club, wedding, even in church...are you kidding me? How about "Shup UP" and just have fun! Grrrrr...
2. Bruv
First of all, I don't like being referred to as "Brother X", even in church. I have one biological brother and he doesn't call me "Brother". Now some folks like to take famzing to a higher level, uncertified Brit accent et al, "Whad up bruv"...Seriously? You are Nigerian, you live in Lagos, stop it!
3. Innit
I don't even want to get started on this. If you consciously program your mind to use a word because it sounds cool, then it isn't natural, is it? or innit? Some words are best left as they are, and some slangs should never cross the atlantic ocean. "Innit" should not be granted a verbal visa to the shores of Naija.
Okay my rant is over, you can add yours :)
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
F-1 Chronicles
He sat in the shadows, the glass of wine hanging loosely in his hands, the soft sound of Coldplay floating in the room like suspended musical chords. His eyes stared blankly into the distance, seeing nothing yet transfixed by the imagery in his mind. A partially-cooked smile lingered on his face, his eyes glazed and moist as the memories trickled in...
Un
"6 years ago, a young naive student stepped off the plane from Naija. He was dressed in his favorite jeans, a thick light-brown sweater his dad had given him and a pair of timbaland boots. He had $5000 cash in his back pocket, money that was to tide him over for the next couple of months. Like every newbie, he believed that he would find a job shortly afterwards and begin the pursuit of the american dream. He spent his first night in his hotel room on the 10th floor, overlooking the Newark skyline, giddy with excitement, watching the stars as they twinkled and whispered their welcome to him..."
Deux
"A few weeks had gone by, no one told him it would be this hard to get a job on campus. He had filled out countless applications, polished his nigerian accent as best as he could and smiled as hard as he could while dropping off his resume at different offices. The smile felt permanently etched on his face, like a mask that couldn't be washed off. Beneath the smile, he was nervous and worried about the future. The academic work wasn't an issue for him, but his naivety about America being the promised land was gradually wearing off..."
Trois
"Finally! At last! He heaved a huge sigh of relief as he started his first job, a desk attendant. His Warri friend back in Nigeria had laughed when he told him with pride that he finally got a job. "Na security work u dey do for there?", was the question. He sought for the words to explain that being a desk attendant was different but at that point he didn't care, he would have gladly taken a security gig if they would hire him. The job paid $8.15 an hour for the graveyard shift, all he could hear in his head was the sound of gold coins...ka ching..."
Quart
"Bros, I'll give you a simple word of advice: Find someone and arrange your papers. You can't make it in this country on an F-1 visa, that was the 'advice' he heard from his fellow africans in diaspora. "Nna men, you gotta do what you gotta do, just arrange the thing sharply, else you go roast for here". He laughed it off, that was not even an option for him. He still remembered when he first went off to Port Harcourt for his undergrad, his father's advice had been : "Biko, don't get any girl pregnant, those Port harcourt and Calabar girls there are very fine o". His mother had retorted angrily "How will he get someone pregnant? He is just a young boy, abi all the bible we have been reading in this house is in vain? Emma ekwu zi na o di ihe a (Emma, stop saying things like that)". So he couldn't imagine himself 'marrying for papers', that was simply impossible. By conventional standards he was pretty intelligent, so getting a job after graduation didn't look like a daunting prospect for him. Moreover, Abraham had a son at age 100, how hard could this possibly be...
Cinq
"He pulled the tie off his neck in anger. He had spent hours at another frustrating career fair, smiling like a circus monkey, speaking polished English, and handing out his resume to prospective employers. It was all a ritual, they would accept his resume, gush about his excellent grades and qualifications, commend his almost American accent, and then hit him with the common chorus "we'll get back to you...". But they never got back to him, he looked at the mirror in despair. Maybe it was his skin, but he was fairer than Obama for pete's sake! Or his accent? C'mon, even the Indians thought he was American. So what could it possibly be? After a few minutes, his eyes finally opened. He realized that being referred to as an "International Student or F-1 student" was not a compliment, it was just another fancy term masking the harsh reality of life. He jumped on google and tried to trace the path to making it in the promised land the hard way, the chart read: "F1-H1-Green Card-Citizenship-American Dream". He found it quite funny. "So which dream i dey since?", he wondered to himself.
NB: This is dedicated to a special group of people, my Day 1 homiez : G.Sachs a.k.a. Confam Bubbler, Fuji Rockstarz a.k.a. Mushin,Yung Ronaldo, Femo, Babse, Chris Phelps, Fola_Munchen and Remix... We go make am one day!
Un
"6 years ago, a young naive student stepped off the plane from Naija. He was dressed in his favorite jeans, a thick light-brown sweater his dad had given him and a pair of timbaland boots. He had $5000 cash in his back pocket, money that was to tide him over for the next couple of months. Like every newbie, he believed that he would find a job shortly afterwards and begin the pursuit of the american dream. He spent his first night in his hotel room on the 10th floor, overlooking the Newark skyline, giddy with excitement, watching the stars as they twinkled and whispered their welcome to him..."
Deux
"A few weeks had gone by, no one told him it would be this hard to get a job on campus. He had filled out countless applications, polished his nigerian accent as best as he could and smiled as hard as he could while dropping off his resume at different offices. The smile felt permanently etched on his face, like a mask that couldn't be washed off. Beneath the smile, he was nervous and worried about the future. The academic work wasn't an issue for him, but his naivety about America being the promised land was gradually wearing off..."
Trois
"Finally! At last! He heaved a huge sigh of relief as he started his first job, a desk attendant. His Warri friend back in Nigeria had laughed when he told him with pride that he finally got a job. "Na security work u dey do for there?", was the question. He sought for the words to explain that being a desk attendant was different but at that point he didn't care, he would have gladly taken a security gig if they would hire him. The job paid $8.15 an hour for the graveyard shift, all he could hear in his head was the sound of gold coins...ka ching..."
Quart
"Bros, I'll give you a simple word of advice: Find someone and arrange your papers. You can't make it in this country on an F-1 visa, that was the 'advice' he heard from his fellow africans in diaspora. "Nna men, you gotta do what you gotta do, just arrange the thing sharply, else you go roast for here". He laughed it off, that was not even an option for him. He still remembered when he first went off to Port Harcourt for his undergrad, his father's advice had been : "Biko, don't get any girl pregnant, those Port harcourt and Calabar girls there are very fine o". His mother had retorted angrily "How will he get someone pregnant? He is just a young boy, abi all the bible we have been reading in this house is in vain? Emma ekwu zi na o di ihe a (Emma, stop saying things like that)". So he couldn't imagine himself 'marrying for papers', that was simply impossible. By conventional standards he was pretty intelligent, so getting a job after graduation didn't look like a daunting prospect for him. Moreover, Abraham had a son at age 100, how hard could this possibly be...
Cinq
"He pulled the tie off his neck in anger. He had spent hours at another frustrating career fair, smiling like a circus monkey, speaking polished English, and handing out his resume to prospective employers. It was all a ritual, they would accept his resume, gush about his excellent grades and qualifications, commend his almost American accent, and then hit him with the common chorus "we'll get back to you...". But they never got back to him, he looked at the mirror in despair. Maybe it was his skin, but he was fairer than Obama for pete's sake! Or his accent? C'mon, even the Indians thought he was American. So what could it possibly be? After a few minutes, his eyes finally opened. He realized that being referred to as an "International Student or F-1 student" was not a compliment, it was just another fancy term masking the harsh reality of life. He jumped on google and tried to trace the path to making it in the promised land the hard way, the chart read: "F1-H1-Green Card-Citizenship-American Dream". He found it quite funny. "So which dream i dey since?", he wondered to himself.
NB: This is dedicated to a special group of people, my Day 1 homiez : G.Sachs a.k.a. Confam Bubbler, Fuji Rockstarz a.k.a. Mushin,Yung Ronaldo, Femo, Babse, Chris Phelps, Fola_Munchen and Remix... We go make am one day!
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
April 17
Las Gidi…
Early in the morning, long before the break of dawn, he tousled and turned around underneath the sheets, his hands searching for the warmth of his fiancee's body. He murmured sleepily with undisguised contentment as he traced the outline of her body, his thoughts lost in transition in the oasis between sleep and dreams. His eyes fluttered open a few seconds after as her voice tickled his ears, "wake up boo, we have to be at the registry on time", she said. He pulled her closer to himself, still awed by the reality of their fast approaching civil marriage; it still felt like a dream. His suit was neatly hung next to her champagne dress, the attire creating the illusion of betrothed garments linked by the fabric of love. His tie was red, the color of passion and he had even picked out a red pair of boxer briefs to match, not that anyone but her would know, he chuckled mischievously. "Good morning honey, soon to be Mrs E", he whispered in her ear, the thought of being introduced as her husband still causing waves of excitement to ripple through his head. She smiled as she wriggled out of his embrace; his eyes never leaving her, the rush of flowing water snapped him out of his reverie...
Bumblebee was waiting for them to get in the car, "biko lets start going o", she called out. They had agreed to leave the house by 7am and she had been ready since 6.45, true to fashion, the bride-to-be was still putting finishing touches on her already perfect makeup. The red brooch she had on earlier had been replaced by a silver one instead, Bumblebee had picked it out herself because it matched her outfit better. A few minutes later, she sighed with relief as the couple hurried out of the house in to the car, the journey was about to begin...
He stepped out of the car, adjusting his tie one final time and walked briskly towards the registry with his bride beside him. They made a striking couple, even though most of the men clad in black suits had picked a red tie, there was no disputing who the hottest bride at the registry was. He could feel the eyes tracking their steps as they stepped into the hall; a cameraman was almost stumbling over himself as he captured their entrance on video. "Oga come and write your name here, u be number 20", the registry officer beckoned to him as they walked in. A few minutes later, he was seated next to his bride on the wooden bench; waiting for his number to be called...
1 hour later, he was sweating profusely, the sweat dripping down his face like teardrops. To the casual observer, he looked like a nervous man, in reality he was dying and praying for their turn to approach faster. The hall was packed, some brides were dressed in complete wedding gowns, there were a lot of guests and family members in support and the icing on the cake was the presence of a Fuji band of praise-singers who never failed to burst into a rendition of songs compiled with a newly wedded couple's name once the final vows had been said. His eyes sought out his bride in the chaos and he saw her smiling and laughing with a few of her friends who had come for the occasion. She still looked radiant, unperturbed by the heat. "My wife is a goddess" he hummed tunelessly under his breath, his eyes never leaving her face. A few minutes later she noticed his gaze on her and smiled back at him, the sweat still pouring down his face...
"Number 18, 19 and 20, couple only”, yelled the registry officer unceremoniously, beckoning to the approaching couples to come forward. Finally, it was almost their turn, there was no point trying to freshen up, he was already soaked with sweat, nevertheless he linked his arm with her's as they walked inside. He was a bit surprised by how quick the ceremony was conducted. In his mind, he had envisaged a romantic ceremony, where he would look into her eyes and promise to love her for the rest of his life. The scene that was unfolding before him didn't look so romantic. Nevertheless, he was still excited. A few minutes later, it was their turn. They looked at each other with excitement as they approached the registry officer, then the ceremony began...
It happened so fast that if u so much as blinked or closed your eyes to sneeze you would have missed everything. First of all, the registry officer sounded as uninterested as Obasanjo watching a Kanye West rap video. He zoomed through the words faster than a Formula 1 race car, never pausing to catch his breath or even acknowledge the pleadings of the groom to speak slower. He stumbled over the vows trying his best to repeat the words correctly. "Did u just say endow?" He asked quickly, trying hard to keep pace with the staccato burst of words rushing out of the lips of the registry official, whilst keeping his gaze on his Bride's lips. The officer seemed not to notice or chose to ignore him, continuing his quick fire approach. A few seconds later, he mumbled "now u may kiss ur bride". The couple kissed shyly while their guests ooohed and aaahd encouragement in the background, the photographer on the other hand was asking for a longer kiss for better pictures. His pleas fell on deaf ears, the kiss was over in a heartbeat, the registry official motioned to the newlywed to sit and then asked slowly in clearly punctuated words, "so Mr and Mrs E, what do you have for us?"...
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