So...my world is...what it is.

Today, I met with a young lady who thought I was gay. Not an insult in
my opinion. I wasn't attracted to her & I think her assumptions
followed her reasoning. She was free to assume, but not right. Reminds
me of times when I thought wrong but felt right. Sad, neh?
The raison d'être of this blog is demystify certain thought processes.
I pride myself in being a prince of random (information overload is
the key) & so I speak with random abandon. Yet with purpose...to vex
jocks & meat-brained people. What's wrong with being gay? I'm a
christian & I will not stray from or deny my personal christian
heritage. It is wrong in God's eyes. He said it. Homosexuality,
lesbianism, beastiality...all explicitly prohibited for more than
4,000 years now. So my question is not if it is wrong in the divine
sense, but who amongst us, bears the exact weight for such measures of
right & wrong?
I'm not a judge, nor a respectable juror...certainly a poor
executioner (stopped killing chickens. It's the look in the eye that
gets me) but I firmly believe the best way to deal with such things is
to understand & then solve from within by prayer. I'm really tired &
it got to me. I've got friends who are gay. I'm not ashamed of them.
Who was too low for Jesus to care about? Or too lost? Or too broken?
I'm going to make this shorter than usual by quoting my father.
Many years ago(& I did have pubic hair by then...shhh), my father
called me aside to say,"Many of the mistakes I made as a man came from
making conclusions too early in life."
Live a little before you condemn. Life will taste better, I assure you.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Philosophies born of duress: I

As I write this, I'm being broiled by conspicuous means of a danfo
bus. Passengers look like an advert for any popular drink. Looking at
us 13, you'd be possessed of a near demonic thirst. I barely notice
the attractive woman who sat 2 seats from me just now. If I wasn't
blogging, I'm certain I wouldn't have even noticed her (no, I'm not
thinking of flirtation in her remote direction. You must sympathise,
sweaty & philosophising isn't the swag for the ladies. It's unfair.)
*** Opebi. 16:10
Right now, I'm watching the sky get ready to unleash a brutal beat
down on my end of Lagos. It's going to take balls to choose to stay at
work instead of going home to sleep. The challenge of self-employment
is discipline. I could catch 40+40 winks at the office, but things
must be done. This cold has to go to waste. What I stand to gain far
outweighs any thing that sleep would do for me right now. By far.
*** Sabo 15:43
I am hungry. I've been up since 4:30 & I'm going through my indomie
ritual. Power is yet to come back to comfort us on my line. It's
terrible. I've the new installment of Football Manager (2010), movies
on my laptop that I haven't seen yet, clothes I haven't ironed... I
think that on more levels than one, we're being taken for granted. My
family of one considers this possibility. Run for office. Or back a
runner for office. Slow revenge. I'm bothered by this stagnancy in
events. I think I'd like a large chicken burger. Or warmed up soup &
rice. Above all, I'd like a more visible answer to the problem of
easier living.
***AKOKA 5:02.
I'm surrounded by Lagosians who believe negative confessions are a
sign of intelligence. The police are crooked (power corrupts, duh!),
traffic is terrible (the state's population is larger than Accra),
area boys are a nuisance (so are the mafia, the yakuza, al queda...),
people are insane (I hate to break it to you, but Lagos is a mental
institution aimed at desensitizing its citizens till they can survive
any where else in the world), politicians only look out for their
pockets & themselves (we are all waiting for our opportunity to chop &
clean mouth)...it gets tiresome. Still, I will always have respect for
anyone who points out solutions instead of the obvious problems. I
have even more respect for anyone who sees the heart of the problem,
not just the symptoms. We can't all be brilliant in the same things.
But we can all be brilliant. It's a given that the diversity in our
race is expressed in the diversity in the things we appreciate, value
or honour. So I imagine that the first scientific mind, political
mind, athletic mind...were unappreciated. It is sad. But introspection
must have forced a school of thought to come to be. What school of
thought will be born of the Lagosian state of being? Who will be its
pillars? What will be the heart of it? Well, I think the problem of
our problems rests in the solutions offered. A european stew for an
african stomach? The diet needs to change before anything positive can
be achieved. This has been proven by a handful of leaders who have
made being african attractive, a thing to be proud of, a means to ends
greater than the men who bear that mark & it is not a stigma. It never
was.
*** Akoka 18:34 (23-05-10)
It is an untidy mind that submits itself to loss of identity. Some
people researched the mitochondria of the cells in the eyes of
randomly chosen europeans & africans. They discovered that the
europeans had a common ancestor, an Eve, if you will. When it is said
that we are a family, it means so much more than skin-colour. It means
that we are all african, no matter how far removed we are from others.
Really. It was misinformed people who assumed the worst about their
mother & her sisters. We are not God's afterthought. We are so much
more. I'm not going pan-african. I'm not even a positive humanist. I
just think that if we see things as they really are, instead of
planning our lives & futures on another (dead) person's assumptions,
we will have an easier time living.
I'm going to do something that I feel I will gain from, even if it is
painful. I'm going to stop smoking in a few hours. Not sure for how
long, but I'm sure that I will make the necessary efforts. Why?
Personal responsibility of my life is not a democratic function. It is
a personally thought out decision. Shit! This is going to be muy
uncomfortable.

--
Sent from my mobile device

A reminder of size

Size is relative. Like the relevance of a conscience (touched or
untouched by something bigger than its bearer) the relevance of size
is determined by the values of those contemplating it. The space
between sub-atomic particles is relevant only to those who deal with
them daily (obviously on a professional level, like scientists whether
in the fields of atomic, nuclear, micro zoology/phytology etc). Then
there are those interested in the distances & sizes in the world of
micro-organisms (trust me, the sizes differ), the world of ants,
spiders & creatures whose worlds we disturb by simply being around
(trust me, not just terrorists, soldiers, police men or criminals,
every human being has being a natural disaster to another creature).
Let me collapse the ranges here. There's the relevance of size:of
domesticated animals, of birds, of children, of adults and the surface
of the earth, of fish the depth of the oceans, of the planets and the
sun, of our solar system and other members of the milky way...& on &
on & on. These are physical distances. There are distances of thought,
of culture, of attitudes, and literal universe of things, singly
abstract & doubly real. These distances affect our interaction with
the world & our place in it.
Walls do not a prison make. There's only so much you can do if the
distances that occupy your mind limit your potential as a person. It's
frustrating to me when I come across such people. Very often they need
someone else to reveal their true sense of distance & make them aware
of it. I have a few examples of those who discovered their natural
distances & stunned the world, then examples of those who were woken
up by others. Contrary to popular opinion, it occurs everywhere, in
every field of human involvement. The Roosevelt cousins were infirmed.
Theodore pushed his body, forced it under his submission & made it
work to make up for where it couldn't. Franklin was crippled, but
unlike Theodore, he wasn't born weak. It struck him in the prime of
his youth. He didn't let them see him sweat. He wore an overcoat to
hide his crutches. In time, he duplicated that for his country. How
else would you explain the U.S. going into world war II, still reeling
from the great depression, & taking the scalp of the Axis forces?
John Mikel Obi was a bright, promising football player. But he felt
like a fraud when he suddenly found himself playing in the first team
of Chelsea. He typically found himself focusing on the negatives &
pushing to earn the potential label of 'wonderkid'. It earned him red
cards. His then coach, Jose Mourinho, assured him that he was worth
the fight with Manchester United over his signature. It wasn't enough,
& his discipline record took a steep decline. It was when his coach
put him with the reserves that he realised 2 things: He was better
than the reserve teams & he was better than his own personal
assessment. The rest is history...history in the making.
I think a personal example would fit here. For a long time, I always
believed that I wasn't much to look at. Attention was unmerited favor.
My words would mean nothing to strangers. My thoughts would be easily
swept under the carpet. Being both sensitive & creative, I was an easy
target of verbal abuse (still am, truth be told). Then, one day, I had
enough. I decided that I would discover my true worth or die trying. I
died. So many times, I died, trying to discover this elusive quality
in myself. And it came back to me. Feeling clever with myself, I wrote
a profundity. It was just for kicks, I thought then. Time matured my
gaze. I had exposed a truth about myself. I thought I was the ant
walking on the back of a giant, but I realised I was a giant thinking
about the ant walking on my back. It has been difficult to disabuse my
mind. Imagine watching an elephant living life as if it were an ant.
That's me. As I die to that part of myself, I come to life in my true,
natural dimensions. I just need to be reminded, every now & then, of
my true size. And that my problems are measurable, not by the comments
of men, or my treacherous imagination. They are made smaller with a
slight change in personal perspective, with time & infinitesmal by
God.
I don't think God got it wrong by leading us into an awareness of our
true selves. I think we got it wrong by thinking it would make the
world happy to see us as we truly are. Now that I'm aware of this, how
do I see myself? I don't know, but I will make an adventure out of
finding out. There ARE worse ways to live, you know.

--
Sent from my mobile device

JTF story submission: the errant groom

I hate gossip. I avoid it as best as I can. But there are some stories
that are too funny to believe. My mother & father fumed at each other
when they returned from an emergency family meeting. Divided opinions
precede gossip. They were my parents & that meant I was in the middle
of it.
"I agree his approach was wrong. But not his reasons." my dad started.
"That poor girl saw what I saw at your hands."
"Are you saying you hated it?"
"YES! Emphatically so. Nonsense! You'd think it was hell if it was you!"
I needed clarity on the subject.
"Sorry, but what are we talking about?"
My dad cocked his eyebrow at me as if to warn me from fueling a fire I
wouldn't be able to quench. Sadly, it was a warning too late. My
mother picked up the excuse.
"You want to know? You will know! You are old enough to know! Prevent
abuse in your life."
Now I was curious. My dad sat down on his chair & exhaled heavily.
"Your cousin, Dele, has a problem with his wife." he started with a calm voice.
My mom gave him no room to manuver.
"Dele has the problem! His bride does not. I will tell the story properly."
She sat down heavily next to my dad. I've never really understood how
she could make him suddenly feel so small.
"He got married to a wonderful girl. She's lovely, obedient, a banker
& a willing home maker. I know he is a good boy, but he became an
inconsiderate beast. Marriage does that to men."
"Are you going to tell the story or force your opinion on our child?"
She turned to him with eyes like fire & he looked straight at me.
"She gave herself to him during the honeymoon. He enjoyed himself. But
he didn't understand that discipline is involved. It's a good point to
him that he was a virgin."
I didn't like where this was going. At all.
"So he went for another woman?", I offered so we could spare my dad's
peace of mind & my imagination of my mother's humanising sex.
"From what he did, he should have."
Now I was very curious. My intuition failed me.
"She wakes up at 4 am, gets home at 8 pm, cooks dinner, & goes to bed at 11 pm.
"Then that stupid boy will f... I mean he will have intercourse with her."
Now I had to take my father's side. Most married couples do that to
cement their relationship.
"Come on, mommy! Surely there's nothing wrong with that. He's just
showing her that he's been thinking about her all day."
My dad shook his head slightly to warn me, again he was too late. My
mom finally went full flame.
"For 4 hours? Every night? For 2 months? Is that love or demonic possession?"
I opened my mouth to suggest exaggeration on the bride's part. This
time I caught my dad's signal.
"We were wondering why she looked so worn out this evening. I asked
her & she burst into tears. She told us everything."
"And Dele?"
"He confessed! On top of her, every night! Period, o! No period, o!
Sick or sleepy! He would pound that girl's vagina like it was life
support."
My dad winced & that is a sign that it was pretty gruesome. He's a
doctor & he'd wince if something reminded him of a case he had
banished from memory so he could have a better life.
"I guess you explained..."
"We told him to kneel down! I personally knocked his head twice for
his selfish stupidity!"
My dad finally couldn't keep quiet anymore.
"He wasn't experienced in dealing with such matters."
"Just like you, abi?"
My dad tilted his head towards me. It meant the conversation was best
done in private.
"No! It is better to teach your children your mistakes before you need
to correct them.
"Your father sympathises with Dele because he knows how sweet it is to
bruise a vagina with friction, long after it stops lubricating
itself!"
I winced by reflex. No one wants to know about their parents' sex
life. Most especially me. Especially the bad side of it.
"You are a gift from God, & I would never wish you away. But I have to
tell you. Your father was determined to get me pregnant. Later I
realised that he just wanted to have an orgasm by any means necessary.
When I'd be exhausted, he would climb me from the front, turn me on my
back, turn me to my side..."
At this point my father exploded.
"You think it is easy to sleep next to the most attractive woman in
your world & not want to have sex?! You think it was punishment for
getting married?! You think it happened because I hated you?!"
My ears were burning. I've seen them fight over money, who gets to
drive the car, directions...but this was too much. I got up and ran to
my room.
2 things happened after that. My parents made love. Loudly. To my
shame, my groins ached. And Dele's agrieved bride ran away 2 weeks
later.
Being a virgin isn't a bad deal. Being stupid is.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Strange justice

Whoever expects punishment already suffers it, & whoever has deserted
it expects it.- Michel de Montaigne
I had a chance to experience this. I was cruel in its use. As far as I
was concerned at the time, it was not abuse. I haven't changed on
that.
It's strange that the landmarks in my life so far, as many as they
are, seem to dim into the background to when I lost my girlfriend to
my best friend (contrary to the popular joke, I do not miss him).
Well, when he did what he did, he knew me, my thoughts, my tendencies,
my ideas of vengeance...let's just say, when his balls cooled down,
his next consideration was me, the embodiment of consequence. >:)
Well, my favorite role model/hero, growing up, was Batman. I'm still a
big fan, 27 years strong. I took his road. I watched him, walked up to
him then side-stepped away to continue my stroll. I would appear two
tables ahead of him in the library & deliberately ignore him. I would,
as the jedi say, feel a disturbance in the force, then look up to see
he'd taken his leave. I occupied space physical, mental, social, all
to get his mind working feverishly to fathom my intentions, my next
move. That was the most morbid entertainment I'd ever had at the
expense of another human being. It took close to a year. And I enjoyed
it. It was a cold recipe for vengeance & I didn't have to raise a
hand, a finger or an eyebrow. Being was enough.
It was in this period that I rediscovered my christian faith.
Loving your enemies remained abstract to me because I had been trained
in the cold school of 'Overlook the offence & the offender'. But what
he did cut so close to my heart, I felt darkness piling up where I
remained indecisive. I turned to God & he pointed out a chap called
Immanuel Kant. This chap said God is not so cruel as to say we should
love our enemies as a feeling. That is impossible. What is possible is
to love them as a duty. To do what they need you to do for them. And
there are many things you can do for your enemy. Like knowing when to
stop thinking about satisfying yourself with revenge. Like asking
after him. Like praying for him. It was a gruelling task, I shit you
not(I say this with all the gravity the word SHIT can muster).
I had to relearn things in the bible. Like how Jesus was given the
power to Lay Down His Life & to Pick It Up Again. I asked God for this
power. He gave it to me. I put His desires for dealing with things
before mine. I chose to think before I made a move to play things the
way I used to.
It took me 2 years to decide I could speak to either of them again.
I've never regretted the decision. Even though I really don't care
much for him, if at all, he made the nature of the cross clearer to
me. But I wouldn't take back that odd revenge.
Still, the truth is that Vengeance is the Lord's. No matter how you
slice it, it comes out the same. It wasn't my place to seek for it.
I'm not certain things would have worked out between us. In fact, I'm
certain they wouldn't have. I forgive, not forget. Not to nurse the
injury, but to remember the nature of the wound & its source, so as to
guard myself. The only to protect myself was to cease contact. I did.
Felt great. Healthy.
But what I did to him was not.
Pity...he had told me that he expected that I'd have arranged for a
beatdown in his honour. In fact, a lot of things he'd assumed would
have been waiting for him to let his guard down. It wasn't my style...
I'm more devious than that. God held me back, God intervened for my
sake, not just his. People would ask, 'What would you have done?'
They don't need to know, so I don't reply. I shouldn't. I think I'd
become unpopular really quickly if I did.
Sometimes we think something grievous has been done to us. But if we
knew how much the feeling of guilt can do to a man, we could better
appreciate a seared conscience. Sometimes, irrespective of age, it is
best to forgive & move on. Other times, it takes a while. All the
time, leave it in God's hands. Really. Awareness of a crime can be
enough punishment for some... End time crowd... What else can I say?

--
Sent from my mobile device

My friend Yemi: It makes absolutely no sense.

I'm experimenting with forwarding. Hope it works. Neatly. I meant to
add neatly. And yes, Yemi, you are deserving.

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Adeyemi Fatona <yemifatonais@gmail.com>
Date: Sun, 16 May 2010 22:18:22 +0100
Subject: It makes absolutely no sense.
To: remi.olutimayin@gmail.com

The pain that ravages through my soul cannot be vocalized.
It shouldn't be. No one should ever have to subject their ears to the
torture that only I can comprehend. And even if I was to try to
explain it to you, I don't think you'd ever be able to understand.
Even if…you may feel like you can relate. Maybe 'cos you may have gone
through some form of pain before. But let me put it to you this way;
although you may feel like we have a bond, some form of kinship in
this matter, you can never understand how my heart grieves.
This blog shouldn't be one where I let myself bleed. But if I don't
bleed through this, I fear that I may never ever find respite.
I don't really love her. It's all been a big bloody lie. I've been
lying to myself all along.
This is what I've been telling myself in order to find the strength in
my bones to move on.
But now, at the worst possible time, it's coming crashing down.
How rude of me. My name is Adeyemi. Some people may call me The Panda.
Some may call me The CapoeiraPanda. Some may even call me Ice.
Whatever. She calls me Adeyemi.
And now she's gone. No she's not dead or anything. I've just had to do
one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do in my life. I had
to let her go.
I held her exactly 3 weeks and 12hours ago, and I kissed her like I
never planned to stop. Like her lips were like life support…. *smile*
it's funny how I always used to tell her she had lips like sugar…just
like the song.
I'm sure you're wondering what I'm talking about. I'm doing something
that I always hate when it's done to me…I'm speaking in abstracts.
Okay.
2 weeks ago, the best thing that ever happened to me walked outta my
life. Why? That's an explanation for another story. But let me tell
you that it wasn't something either of us wanted to do. Holding
yourself accountable to family in terms of the relationships you keep,
and what you may or may not do is quite a demanding task. At times
like these I'm reminded about how intensely difficult it it to obey
God sometimes. Not impossible, 'cos she decided to be obedient, but
intensely difficult. And this is what was demanded from her. That she
let go of this guy that she loved. And so I watched as she walked.
Helpless to do anything.
Now what was to happen? As with most of the members of the female
gender, she asked that question that often brings bemusement to the
guy who's being left biting the dust; "Can we be friends???" But in
her defense, this wasn't a question borne out of utter selfishness,
this was a question borne out of utter desperation. How was she simply
to stop talking to me? Our lives had become as intertwined as the
embroidery on a beautifully made agbada.
But what was I to do? Try to be friends with someone I'm in love with?
I've tried and tried to explain, but she just won't have it.
Fuck. How am I supposed to explain this to you without it coming out
all garbled? I'm going to be jumping back and forth, explaining the
situation and telling you things that happened and are happening
simultaneously.
So we break up. I'm determined to move on this time. This time. This
time I've put my hand on the plow, and I will not be looking back. So
I partition my mind. I lose my heart [she already had it in the first
place, so I guess it's no big deal.] I try to tell myself that I don't
love her. I'm doing anything I can to put her out of my mind, and my
heart. I have so much on my plate already. She calls me at
intermittent points. She can't stand not talking to me. I shouldn't do
this to her. Different stuff… I try my best to brush it aside and move
on. Then yesterday, she calls me, and with her voice rife with
weeping, she says to me; "You wanted this Adeyemi. You wanted to be
the most important person in my world. You wanted me to be totally in
love with you. Now you're leaving me like this. Don't do this to me."
I, am crushed.
I haven't been able to concentrate since. And I have so much work to
do… How did I get to this point? How did this happen? I have
absolutely no idea…
And I'm sure you're wondering why I'm writing this. I have no idea
either. All I know is that if I didn't write it, there was no other
way it would come out. And that would be even more damaging. And I
can't put it on my blog, cos for some reason, I don't want to. But
Remi says his blog goes to people that he considers deserving, people
he considers like family. And any friend of his is a friend of mine.
You don't necessarily have to read this. And if you do, you don't have
to give it a second thought. Just…thank you for reading. But I just
had to write.
Writings pieced together from the fragments of my broken soul, and
glued together with the tears of my heart.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Suzie- My Body

Typical nigerian spirit- Bold, imaginative, not necessarily original
(we 'are' in the Western Empires' 2nd millenia), scary, strong &
sexy...these adjectives come to mind when you see the video.
I watched it this evening. I got the impression that her performance
frightened her. Like a prophet suddenly burdened with the weight of
visionary expression, she did it without social consequences in mind.
It would be a pity if her video is put down by limited minds. Do not
get me wrong, it is a very seductive work. I didn't get aroused, but
it did remind me of women in my life who put aside the veil of
propriety to tell me that they wanted to be loved with strength,
passion & relentless acceptance of all that they were.
I cut a salute to Clarence Peters. I met him in passing within the
past year. His emphasis on restrained choreography, body art, nudity
(that was neither exploitative nor crude) & an approach that pointed
out that less is more.
I took to the video with intuition.
I must thank Data for sharing it with me. (Yes, it is a nigerian name.
No it is not a general name. Africa is vast. Nigeria, even more so.
Ask somebody)
Coming back to the point of this blog, I think her video is worth a
look, the song reminds me of mature themes from artistes like Floetry,
theme is believably vulnerable, & the artiste is simply amazing to
watch. I don't rate music videos because I'm wary of the range of my
competence. It did have the familiar ring of D'angelo's song 'no
title'. His chorus 'How does it feel?' reminded me of my own romantic
moments in vulnerability.
Splendid delivery, international quality & has the powerful, yet sad
promise of another artiste 'without honour in her country.'
Suzie, even if they put you down, or bad mouth you or ban your video,
I would gladly conceive my children to your song. Gladly. The
challenge is to now find someone who feels the song enough to have my
babies. :)

--
Sent from my mobile device

I've had it!!

This is going to be brief but true.
What sort of animal am I? The sort that hears his neighbour's alarm
for PHCN bringing power to his end, while I've not seen power for
close to 6 months? The sort that swallows the bureaucratic inane
excuse "We're working on it"? The kind that can't iron his clothes so
has to revert to some throw back, sophomore look because no one cares
if your t-shirt is ironed or not? The sort that will sit back and
imagine that it is beyond human intervention to fix the FUCKING POWER
TRANSFORMER FOR THE FUCKING STREET FOR THE LAST FUCKING SIX MONTHS?
My mom said not to curse them. I won't. I'll just list out my
grievances, store them, then when I get to political power, directly
or indirectly, I will hunt down these people, put them up on EFCC's
radar and have them prosecuted for economic sabotage, lack of
commitment and taking bribes without considering the need to follow
through anyway.
Someone keep me away from automatic rifles. I'll go on a serial-killer
trip and follow the advice of the wife of Spartacus...KILL THEM ALL!!
(Just in case someone actually starts shooting up PHCN vehicles and
staff, it was not me. I could hurt a mosquito, but not a chicken. I'm
measuring the value of human life in terms of these, by the way.)

--
Sent from my mobile device

Personalising Fix You by Coldplay

I heard & understood the song. I've fixed. I've also been fixed. It is
the about the nature of wounds & the understanding behind the fixer.
I'll deal with the bridge & chorus later.
WHEN YOU TRY YOUR BEST/BUT YOU DON'T SUCCEED: I did what I could. I
admit I don't understand problems as well as I do in hindsight. This
is a recurring theme in love for me. I don't mean romantic love alone.
I mean love as it is meant to be. Like when I watched my friend Yegwa
start a comic with all of our friends with proven ability to write or
draw. It didn't pan out as hoped. I was crushed. But, 4 years down the
line, he's Spaceboy. Looking stronger by the day. Or when an old
girlfriend would try to please her dad & the man just made her feel
rotten with herself. A recurring theme in such relationships that I've
noticed.
WHEN YOU GET WHAT YOU WANT/BUT NOT WHAT YOU NEED:
An ex-girlfriend left me for a more exciting guy. It seems she gets
the excitement, but not the stable kind that becomes solid. She's held
on in there. I admire her tenacity so far, if not her methods. Or the
time as a radio producer, I wanted a better paying job, & I got a job
at Zenith bank. The money was more than I expected, but the growing
sense of 'nothing achieved' intimidated me. I felt no pull, no reason
to stay.
WHEN YOU FEEL SO TIRED/BUT YOU CAN'T SLEEP
STUCK IN REVERSE:
I once had a girlfriend who would be tired to the bone, & too wound up
to nap for an hour before going off to her night-shift. When I tried
to be supportive, it seems I set things back between us. I really
couldn't blame her. I still don't. Or the times I'd go through
depression doing what I wasn't meant to do (chemical engineering,
banking, etc), eating away at my conscience, knowing that time was
being sacrificed on that altar of life's biggest mistakes.
HIGH UP ABOVE OR DOWN BELOW/WHEN YOU'RE TOO IN LOVE TO LET IT GO
I was too into a could-have-been girlfriend. She was slim, articulate,
grew up dutch, hated physical punishment, played the piano, loved 81%
of the same movies, had a thing for cerebral development, wore braces
to sleep...the only thing was she wanted just friends. I watched 'My
Best Friend's Girl' & I concluded that Jason Biggs was me. I was
killed by the combination of the weight of my expectation & the sharp
edge of the truth. Or the time I had to leave an ex-girlfriend because
she was the reverse of the same problem. Sometimes, it won't matter
what your head tells you, your heart will have to figure it out the
hard way. Faith in men is generally misplaced, especially in terms of
relationships. I cursed myself for both incidents. Just stopped
recently.

BUT IF YOU NEVER TRY/ YOU NEVER KNOW
JUST WHAT YOU'RE WORTH
I had to let go so many times after that. I was scared to know if I
was worth as much to 'her' as she was to me. I promise you, it is the
bravest thing you could ever do as an individual who seeks recognition
on an intimate level. I die everytime. Everytime. And I come alive
again. It helps me understand that my worth is not determined by any
man, woman or thing else. And when I'm let down, I leave it at that &
move on. The biggest thing ever for me, in non-romantic terms, was
quitting my bank job. I earned just over N0.3m a month, but the verbal
abuse caused me great harm. I admit other things came into play (the
early warning signs of the global recession: in my head, I'd hear Sam
Cooke's A Change Is Gonna Come as I analysed market trends & boring
stuff I won't go into right now.) The only reward is yourself. You are
always more lonely when you get into a relationship. ;)

TEARS STREAM DOWN YOUR FACE/WHEN YOU LOSE SOMETHING YOU CANNOT REPLACE.
The loss of ignorance is not always followed with the Thrill of
Victory, it can come with the Agony of Defeat. You can't replace the
agony of knowing your friend is sleeping with your most cherished
girlfriend, or knowing that you can't pretend she still likes you like
before, or imagining that things will get better if you stay, or that
when push comes to shove, you will be chosen above all others. When
you know the truth, you cannot be deceived, not even by yourself.

LIGHTS WILL GUIDE YOU HOME/AND IGNITE YOUR BONES
AND I WILL TRY TO FIX YOU
When blind people recieve their sight, the first thing they do is look
at the lights of the prayer grounds. My cousin worked at a revival &
saw it first hand. They are drawn to the light. It gives them
boldness, reassurance, awareness that they are not blind anymore. It
is in these moments that you realise, you know the truth, your new
found freedom may taste strange to you, but that's because you never
tasted it 'after' being apart from the person/event.
You now have new parts never used before. Parts that make you stronger
for having them or the experience of them. Parts that build you to
better protect your self-worth.
Fix to me isn't about repair to as good as new. It's repair to differ.
Life is Divine suggestion via human intervention, not human invention.
I believe it.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Lagos 2060 submission: Mesa Morte (death plateau)

Anna Oye slept with a snore that did disturb the dead. It humored her.
It was 20 years since the 'visionary' government gave scientific
asylum to the strange splinter group of a scientific field. These
people believed that biopsies of the infirmed living sped up the chase
to perfect the genome. To her, the crippled, the handicapped, & the
terminally infirmed were already dead. They offered some value to
their lives by dying to save billions. Strapped to cold operating
tables, they awaited her scalpel & team of attending 'harvesters'.
What disturbed her was that these operations had been going on for
longer than the world had heard of the genome. They blamed ritual
killings. Those idiots would contaminate the specimens harvested.
What disturbed the subjects wasn't just the snoring, or the certainty
of death. It was the wait. They wondered how much longer, judging the
depth of her snoring. It was always shallow.
That morning was going to be different however. None of them could
have known. It wasn't just unforeseen, it was more impossible than
unlikely. Subject p-57/c12. When they it was his turn, there was a
sudden power outage. According to maintenance, there was power
everywhere else. When they left his table, the power returned. The
second time was no coincidence. They stopped work for the day. Subject
p-57/c12 was taken to a holding cell & put through a battery of tests.
He was confirmed HIV +, positive for most infections associated with
the poor. His background was hazy. He volunteered himself in exchange
for his family to have a meal a day for a month. That night 3 military
observers invited themselves into the lab. One of them made a sign to
the others after studying p-57/c12's retina.
"I'm sorry, but he is coming with us."
Dr. Oye was unhappy & demanded an explanation.
"We've confirmed him to be what we're looking for. You can take it up
with the president when you can."
She was about to bluster when the senior most officer, colonel Boaz,
quiet all this time, spoke in tone of voice that made her feel the
need to run out of the room.
"You are here. I can't do anything about that. He is going with us. I
know no one who can do anything about that. To persist is to test me.
I've killed children younger than your clothes. I felt nothing. Not
even remorse. I will feel even less if you force my hand. Are we
clear?"
The head researcher, Dr. David Brown, marched in, demanding to know
what was going on.
"Colonel Boaz, you are not taking that man out of this facility. Over
my dead body."
The colonel smiled, pulled out the smallest gun she had ever seen &
shot at Dr. Brown.
"Would like me to try again? Very often people die because of poor
judgment or their ego. Would you care to repeat your statement?"
Dr. Brown had aged. The bullet had lodged itself in a point in the
wall, half an inch from his head.
"I'm not a politician. I'm a soldier. That man holds the key to
keeping my men safer on the field than ever. I would burn this place
down before I pass up this chance."
Dr. Oye stepped up & asked, in a calm voice,"What is it about p-57/c12?"
One of the soldiers took a quick look at p-57/c12 then whispered
quickly into the colonel's ear. The colonel straightened up &
said,"You're about to find out. Lock these two with him. They think
deaths on a table would save the world."
The subject made some primal noises & suddenly tore his bindings with
a strength of 5 men.
As the left, the colonel spoke over his shoulder,
"That is not a man. He is the end result of a test for the perfect
first wave of a front-line. It's been going on for 65 years now. He
will get sick, weak & terminally ill. Then about an hour to his
demise, his adrenaline levels will peak. He will become a raging
killer. All without thought or remorse. The perfect zombie. The
perfect soldier."
True to the colonel's prediction the man's eyes were vacant &
bloodshot. It seemed his mind had been driven over the edge by a
fever. Dr. Oye jumped at the sound of the doors slamming shut. The
soldiers went to the observer's window & enjoyed the grim show. The
subject grabbed Dr. Brown's forearm & threw him in an awkward arc
towards Dr. Oye.
"He's...fucking strong!"
Dr. Oye helped him up only to be knocked back against the wall. It
felt like she left her breath behind her. She watched helplessly as
Dr. Brown was calmly killed by pushing his head backwards until his
entire neck bruised then turned into an ugly fountain of blood.
Subject p-57/c12 had an erection. She thought it was inappropriate.
"Your snoring...fucking annoying...fucking shut up...fucking die."
The soldiers turned away from her guttural screams.
"I wonder, is this how other military scientists make advances?
Watching others getting screwed to death."
His men had started the purge. A battalion swept the complex, shooting on sight.
When p-57/c12 was brought in, 53 bullets were retrieved from his body.
He didn't go down easily. An hour after they left, Dr. Oye's eyes
opened. Bloodshot & vacant.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Offside!!

The Offside rule in football (soccer in american) states that a player
should not be beyond the last defender 'before' the ball is passed to
him, irrespective of his intent, be it to score or to put his team
mate in a better position to score. The referee calls a foul and
restarts the game in favor of the other team. It is in fact an unfair
disadvantage. I get the vibe that a lot of things that could be
advantageous to the Nigerian person are considered unfair. I sense a
loud cry of Offside is screamed everytime things seem to go well for
us. Let's look at some situations that are common to the nigerian
public which are considered Offside by those who are in the position
of referee.
When PHCN bring power to a part of the city of Lagos like mine (where
generators work like their owner's lives depend on it,
air-conditioners have been reduced to ornaments, fans seem to be the
vogue, refridgerators, freezers & other compressor based electronic
goods are relegated to a near obsolete state of being) after a long
period of darkness, someone cries 'Offside'. The unseen referee blows
his whistle & power is taken.
When the traffic officials eg police, LASTMA etc, spot a vehicle, &
harass the occupants with phantom charges, no one cries 'Offside'.
When you get up very early in the morning, after you rushed your
sleep, your bath, your meal & your aim is to hit the road before
everyone else because you have an early appointment that might change
your life. Once you get to the junction leading to the main artery of
traffic, someone screams 'Offside', & you find out that over 3,000 had
the same idea. To make it worse, as you guys are making reasonable
progress, 5,000 other people, who got up late, join you with the sole
purpose of clogging the road with their brand of passive-resistant
road rage. They convert a 4 lane road into a 6 1/2 lane road (you need
to see it to believe it), turning a semi-orderly procession into a 2
dimensional school of fish.
When you're lining up at a bukateria (it's a nigerian thing), and
you're 2 turns away from getting your meal and rushing back to work,
there goes the cry 'Offside'. That's when someone jumps the queue with
a vengeance only rivaled by Lionel Messi's 4 goal reply to Arsenal's
only goal of the game.
I'm a philosopher who has chosen to see things in a humourous light,
because suicide isn't an option. The next moment might be very
brilliant.
The referee might be on your side, the opposition might slack in their
approach to ruin your day.
But still, the question is sought for alms, 'Why?'
I disagree with people who claim it is a nigerian thing. It is so very
human, it is not funny anymore. I think, I stand to be corrected, I
think the powers that be are worried that their positions are without
merit and so can be taken from them either by those with merit or by
those with less merit. Those on equal standing with them are with them
already, so they encounter minimised squabbling with their colleagues.
I feel nothing close to contempt for them. It is an understanding
bathed in lavender. They don't understand how to do good and do well
simultaneously. They can't. We don't help them. We can't. They don't
help us. The country can't move forward until someone with the lingo
of both sides attempts to unite us, instead of using a big stick to
defend himself from imagined slights and real dangers.
What else can I say? Join a party, form a party or be a dark horse
running things from the back of the curtain? Personally, I, my
mother's favorite baby, will not risk my life running for office. It
is a real risk. Real people have died real deaths from the hands of
real people sent by real people. I use the word, real, because they
too are flesh and blood. It is just sad that they don't realise that
an awareness of one's mortality helps one live better, changes one's
value-system and color one's view of life into something almost
saint-like.
I think. Sometimes, I believe the best politicians are the best liars.
Human error is inevitable, cruelty is born of weakness and cowardice,
& the best leaders make things work by glossing over the bad and
focusing on the good. I think.
Then again, you're free to scream 'Offside'. You're not the referee, are you?
But, if you are, could you please tell your linesman in charge of
Akoka to allow my part of Community road to have power? They say
something about a breaker in the Unilag station. I think it's just
'Offside' they cry. 3 babies have been born on this part in the last
month or so. Don't let this be how they understand the game of being a
nigerian. Thanks.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Driving lessons

Is the sound of twisting metal sounds worse than the sight of it? I
hoped so. I strained to open my eyes, but fear kept them shut. Maybe?
What if I'd been blinded & would just have to wait for a consolatory
confirmation of my condition? I forced my eyes open.
I'd been dreaming. Again. Gravity has a cruel bend towards reminding
us of our limits. It was the morning of my first driving lesson. I
heard that the traffic in New Delhi was insane. No one talks of the
traffic in Lagos. They do what the brave do. They bear it in stoic
silence. I was to join that number. It frightened me to bouts of brief
insanity.

My driving instructor was a chap with passable english. I took it for
granted that his nerves were made of steel. Looking back, I can think
of muppets braver than him. He drove the car to a developing area. Low
human traffic, lower vehicle traffic and nothing to ram the car into.
I then saw the water front and remembered the horror story of a
friend, Paul.
Paul's uncle's wife, Anne, had asked him to teach her how to drive and
he took her to the marine studies institute. When she took to the
wheel, it wasn't up to minute when he was struggling with his door.
"Crazy bitch was speeding to the cliffs. I told her to stop. It was on
my 37th try that I realised that she was resigned to death by drowning
and it all came down to two things. We die or I escape with bruises
and she dies. Not an option. But the door was jammed. I finally freed
the door when she found her will to live... & the brakes.
"I was shaking as I walked round to her side & told her to give me the
keys. I drove us home & never mentioned it again. Never take a learner
near water."
You can only imagine what I was thinking about when the instructor
asked me if I could swim. He was more alarmed than me when I drove as
if I was fighting a tractor beam pulling me to the water. It felt like
I was driving in a straight line. He said I was driving like a
disoriented bat. Actually, his comment can't be repeated in polite
conversation, so I've taken liberties with my recollection.
Anyway, so his reaction reminded me of Kermit the frog or Grover the
cute monster. I think it was the flailing arms and the high pitched
screaming. A touch too high for a man, in my opinion.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Poetry

Falling off the edge:
I'm in a small place
Too small for a face
Too small for a song
As small as the day's long
As small as the mind
Of a very small kind
Of man who remained blind
To the lies that bind
Us to death in our sleep
As we sow dreams & reap
Our hopes in bundles and heaps
Fear keeping our desires from our lips

I'm in a small space
Too small to chase
Every dream gone to waste
When I lived in a haste
When a smile was too much to ask
And living became a terrible task
And promises were made and broken
Almost as soon as they were spoken
And love was substituted by solitude
'Expect disappointment' was the attitude

I'm in a small world
With tin gods wanting to be served
With the life and sweat of 'lesser men'
Convinced this servitude cannot end
Where wealth draws a line as real
As the dreams of a leopard seal
But this wealth tells a worse lie
You'd think the wealthy never die
But they do. But dare they realise this?
That we all will recieve death's kiss?

I'm in a small...thing.
Am I small for thinking?
Am I small for being wounded easily?
Am I small to want to live happily?
Am I small for wanting more?
Am I small for ignoring the score?
Am I small for caring as I do?
If you think so...then so are you. True!
Where you put your eyes
That's about the size

--
Sent from my mobile device

A pinch of salt- an introduction

There's always something to write about. Childhood is often a very
rich source of material. It has no stain of mature expectations.
Rather, it is the journey of loss of innocence. As you grow older,
your eyes see what the world is for itself. Fed by stories, you come
to conclusions all your own. James Baldwin wrote to his nephew of not
trusting anything his experience did not support. I agree to a point.
As an african, you cannot discount the unseen. These stories are based
on things seen, heard, explained (sometimes from the vantage point
where the mind can bear the weight of the truth as it is).
As child, everything is fiction except when your heart tells you it is
not. A tricky passage, no doubt. But I trust it. Not because I must,
but because I should. It's not a collection of biographical stories.
It's a collection of impressions.
In a way, it is an epitaph. I will never go back to then. I will move
forward from here. But while I'm here, I owe it the use of my
abilities gathered over the years. I will pay the debt as best as I
can.

On 1/24/10, Remi Olutimayin <incunabula.ng@gmail.com> wrote:
> Ok,so let's start with as far back as we can remember. The order can
> be sorted out later. It is important to get them down. This project
> should take the better part of the next 5 months or so. Take
> heart,take care and remember this started on the morning after
> WinePress 2010
>
> On 1/24/10, Remi Olutimayin <remi.olutimayin@gmail.com> wrote:
>> I believe W.E.B. Du Bois said it takes a village to raise a child. I
>> am the product of my fathers and mothers. These are the men and women
>> who donated more than just genetic material to my life. Their
>> stories,their insights into human behaviour, their courage in the face
>> of violent stupidity, their interest in the manner with which I
>> conduct my affairs...these stories are my way of recognising their
>> parts in my life. I love you all. You will recognise yourselves in the
>> stories. The names do not matter. It could have been anyone,but no one
>> else would have seen how you saw.
>> Remi Olutimayin 1:30pm 24/01/2010
>>
>> --
>> Sent from my mobile device
>>
>
> --
> Sent from my mobile device
>

--
Sent from my mobile device

A moment...

At this moment, I'm disappointed. With myself as well as with the
wheels of fortune, if such a thing exists. I will never be an atheist.
(I was brought up too closely for such theological decadence). Rather
I'm confronted with my own personal stupidity. I think everyone is
entitled to such unfortunate moments in life.
The moment of clarity such moments bring cannot be measured in terms
of time, location or even perspective. It is only recognised in terms
of aftermath. Most things cannot be engaged in terms of what could
have been. But if so, kindly indulge me in this brief flirtation with
fantasy.
Looking back, I think of poor choices made & what could have been. I
would like to explore them now in the zenith of my personal
disappointment.
I could have been an amazing copywriter, in the tradition of David
Ogilvy. I could have turned out copy that would have caused the world
to pause & make purchase decisions that would have possibly
revolutionised marketing communications.
I could have been the doctor who had a growing practice based on the
attention given to patients (nothing like Gregory House M.D.)
I could have been a popular banker, sought out for his unique touch in
customer service.
But no. God saw it fit to make me what I am, where I am. And he sees
it's good enough for who I am, barring, of course, who I could have
been.
I could have been a naval officer, chaffing at my bit, waiting to test
personally engineered theories of war & combat. Or an air-force
officer, keeping my head down & my nose clean, until I get promoted to
Air Vice Marshal.
But, you want to know why I'm really disappointed? I think, God had
gotten tired of my being driven by my own vision, that he wrested me
from my own stupidity by pulling me out of shit I know I couldn't
handle.
So why this diatribe? Well, I think that, if pressed about it, I could
say that I am where I am, because where I'm going to would need the
wealth of experience of a former radio producer, banker, copywriter,
printer, editor, & lost soul. Why lost soul? Because, I am no longer
lost. I'm burdened with confronting my very self at every turn. It
sucks, but it will burn new ground for me.
If you are feeling the same way, I will offer only one piece of advice.
Acknowledging that God exists is only one phase in growing up. The
next is to grow up yourself. That's where I am. That's what I'm hoping
towards. That's where God needs me to be. Growing up.
It is a painful process. But I'm the one who has to be involved for
myself, by myself. Will I be distracted? Possibly. But never for long.
Never for too long.
If you've read up to this point, then you were meant to read this.
None of that internet chain letter crap. This is as real as it will
present itself to you.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Welcome Yemi

You deserve a blog from me. Really.
I just met him prior to a great romantic upheaval in my life. I still
sensed (in all my turmoil & that shit) that he wasn't a waste of time.
His choleric dad (I think of him as a priest devoted to becoming the
patron modern saint of attention to detail.) wasn't a disincentive
enough, his cute as a button sister (old enough to be a mom, still a
shorty. Figure that out yourself.) couldn't distract. He had
characteristics that I could recognise with.
He lived ahead of his age: He was burdened with an advanced maturity
that his actual age constantly broke through, making him look
inconsistent & childish (what else would you expect).
He had a high I.Q. : and by God's grace, still does. He could read
patterns, people, progress, outcomes, and was academic lounge lizard.
He was lazy with school & couldn't tell just how lazy he was. (His dad
was determined that he wouldn't have to find out a decade too late.)
It was the laziness that very intelligent or very stupid people have,
as a necessity, from living outside (ahead or behind) the 'normal joe'
curve. He was so ahead, he treated school work like an adult cat with
a ball of yarn. He knew what social behaviour demanded of him, so he
attempted to make it entertaining for himself. When he needed to take
it more serious, it was painful process. Imagine being bow-legged late
into your adolescence & your parents tell you, "your legs need to be
splintered and reset so you can have the straight legs we expect of
you. And you're the one who has to break them"?
Needless to say, he ran away from home.

Just kidding. He did it. He hurt himself by rewriting his entire
behaviour pattern. It took a long time, cost him peace of mind, spats
with his demanding dad, and now he has a very great reward. He's like
his dad. Not a bad thing. I'm sure I made him look like an ogre, but
he's not. He just won't tolerate bullshit poured down his throat and
you tell him it's pepsi. He will give you a tongue lashing that would
burn out a star tripping on...star dust?
Anyway, this is about Yemi. Yemi is tough. I've seen him personify the
1st line of the second stanza of Coldplay's song Lost. And I'm seeing
him do it again. The first time I was mad because I was helpless, but
I couldn't show it. It might have killed his spirit. Now, I'm not mad.
Not in the least. He's just waiting till the shine wears off. He
doesn't pet his bruises, they'll go. They'll wear off.
I love him. We would have been a scary pair had we been actual
siblings. Endoderm, caramel, & strange. Ectoderm, dark & strange.
Neither unfriendly or aloof (unless it made us look cool.)
I'm his as he needs me to be. That's the nature of true friendship.
Not self-seeking. His great cooking is not a motivation for me. I can
boil me some water too, y'know.
So Yemi, welcome. Welcome to the next gear in being human, fallible &
I trust you'll survive this curve. We both know you will.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Deep times

Deep Times.
I was born old, with an illusion of familiarity with most things, if
not people. From my mother's womb I dreamt into the world in all its
glory & ugliness. Or it could be said I was born without a sense of
expectation or fear. Either way, I took things as they came, but was
always curious of how things really were. My curiousity innocent, to
be sure & yet it would have dangerous consequences sometimes. Like the
time I practised what I saw in The Rise and Fall of Idi Amin. I was
fascinated with the fire element. It started with the cigarette
adverts. They looked so cool. I smoke now, but those brands have been
phased out (John Player Gold Leaf, Target etc). I hate menthols.
That's by the way. So one day, when I was 7, I saw my neighbour's
volkswagen beetle parked outside his house. It had been in a horrible
accident. I didn't think anyone would miss it. Honest! So, I tossed
lit match sticks down the petrol receptacle. They never made the
journey. They just stopped near the mouth before going out. The last
one was still burning weakly. So I leaned forward & blew it in. What
happened?
I learned the threat of petrol fumes is very real. I learned such
practices are best with adult supervision. I also learned how to set a
car on fire properly...they say you learn more from success than from
failure. They were right. Well, fire travels the path of least
resistance & I got a face full of relentless fury. I remember shutting
my eyes by reflex, then opening them & seeing something out of the
opening credits of The Legend of Zoro. Needless to say, I had a face
lift. It wasn't pretty, but God cares for us at our brightest and at
our most suicidal.
I remember my older cousin, detailed to watch me, looking defeated as
I ran into the house with a sizzling face. The smell of burning flesh
doesn't haunt me anymore, but I feel slightly disturbed near a
roasting goat.
God gave me my face back later. I lost a few things and gained
bragging rights like like 'wow'. As I've grown older, such tales are
not for bragging. It only makes me look stupid.
But I lost my impression of immortality, I lost my friend through
slander (sorry, Mawedo), I lost my cousin's trust (had to fight to get
it back). I lost love for myself. It wasn't worth the trade.
I became more adult then. Less given to public displays of silliness.
I remember these things when I see a newborn baby. My goodness! I
wouldn't take it well if any of them took up that baton from me. But I
remember this. A child is from God. He/she's in your care, but not of
your making. God takes care of them in ways you cannot tell or
emulate.
I willingly concede that I am neither the fount of wisdom nor the
heart of power. But I am a child who was born old and has working at
being young again. No lost childhood here. Just a hope to be more
useful and veer away from being stupid.
Being alot of things is childish. I accept that now. Being broke,
clueless, trite, blind...these are deep times.
I'm being called to be a man by children not my own. I've got to dig
deeper than I've dug before to bring something worthy to their table.
And I will. Gotta keep up with the times, yes?

--
Sent from my mobile device

The long pauses inbetween

The Long Pauses In Between.

There had been a long, difficult period between my place in life then
& now. There was a time I would wish for more things than I could know
what to do with. I still can't tell you what those things were. I just
assumed security is found in material excess. Another creative lie.
There so many of them. So I will offer this one line to clarify my
mind or my stand.

I'm alone for a reason and I accept that it will come to me from the
day I accept that God didn't create me grudgingly.

Hope that made sense. I have a natural tendency to be hard on myself,
body & mind. There's no direction involved. I'm just hard on myself.
It is assumed to be seated in deep self-loathing. I just think
everytime I find something or someone, I recall where I fall short in
terms of worth and forget where I excel in terms of value.
I'm sweet...not sexy.
I'm kind...not worth the risk.
I'm intelligent...not wise.
I'm christian...but I smoke.
I'm celibate...not for a worthy reason. ;)
I'm creative...not a force.

Well, shit on it! No exceptional human being never took a shit!! No
one! So... I console myself this way. I'm not sociable, likable, sexy,
or any other thing that sets me apart in a socially attractive way.
I'm fine. Really. I just get into that sinkhole of depression in the
long pauses inbetween. When I come out of it, I scream,"SHIT-ON-IT!"
Which is followed closely by, "God, forgive me. Thank you for
delighting in me when I do well and not forgetting me into oblivion
when I don't. Forgive me the shame I bring to your name when I mistake
stupidity for my humanity. You called me out to be more than human.
Well...here I am."
Or something along those lines.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Entomology

Entomology

English, as a language, has enjoyed aberration more than the culture.
Ever since I was that little boy my mother shared an intellectual joke
with me about the truth of the cry, "Ape, obey!" that's used by Igbo
men when heavy lifting is required, I've been interrogating pidgin
english. It was a tool used by the british merchants to communicate
with the traders on the coast & in the hinterlands. When I watch
period films, I listen for the parents of common pidgin words. I give
credit to the mind behind the Krio dictionary. It shed a great light
on the matter for me.
Language being a carrier of culture, the pidgin culture has spread
through west africa. It's roots are more yoruba than any other
culture. (I'm not yoruba by the way. I think my lack of confident
command in speaking it has offered me a removed sense, or lack of
bias, that aids me in my role of observer).
For instance, sabi seems to be coined from Savvy (thank you, Disney,
Johnny Depp & captain Jack Sparrow). Comot from Come out. Throway from
throw away. siddon from sit down. purshue from pursue. I've had bit of
a problem with dash. (Context is every bit as important in use as the
word in question.). Wetin from What's it (maybe).
Though an important point to note is the awareness of the verb 'to
be'. In certain dialects of pidgin, it is intentionally not
conjugated. 'I be de see them.'. It's not a universal thing because it
is conjugated as 'de/dey'.
'I de/dey run.'
I like pidgin english. Especially that it takes solidly from the
original tongue its syncretic nature. It evolves & takes the tint of
the culture it is used in. Warri pidgin is the most entertaining of
the variations I've come across. There are new words springing up
everyday as well as new meanings. The most recent change in meaning
for me is the word, Maga. When I first came across it, it stood for
'fubar'(fucked up beyond all repair). It could be associated with
people or with things concrete or not. Now, it's used for the one with
the upper hand in criminal activity or simply someone who enjoys
largesse.
As we grow older, so does the language. I speak the Queen's cousin's
english. It's an uneven anglo-american mix. So sometimes I catch
myself favoring an american pronounciation in the middle of an english
sentence in flow. I giggle privately, but hey, it's my habit. I prefer
it to outright shelling. Any day of the year, any minute of the hour.
It interferes with my casual use of pidgin, unless I'm busting a
pidgin english script, then the Warri-wannabe rises to the occasion.
If you have a bad day, or someone pissed you off... I suggest speaking
to yourself about it...in pidgin english. I promise you will laugh at
yourself. You could frighten the offending entity by speaking to
yourself aloud in pidgin english in front of them. Chances are they (&
possibly yourself) won't be able pick anything you say comfortably.
But if you spit their name(s) out, the look of panic is worth the
brief display of insanity. Really. Try it.

--
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Life is like box of chocolates- Mama Forest Gump

Life is like a box of Chocolates- Mama Forest Gump.

I wonder if it occurs to anyone else that perhaps Forest, though not
the smartest, was the wisest person in the story. Wisdom. It is a
frightening thing when revealed in all its neutral, fierce glory. The
most common image attached to wisdom is gray hair. Is that wisdom?
Really? I'm not knocking the graying & the elderly (they're not one &
the same). But when I read history, I notice something about wisdom.
It's not cunning. It's not sharp practices. It's seeing the life for
what it is.
Sadly (or maybe not. Some old people say they wish they'd made more
mistakes), most of my wisdom has arisen from surviving uncertain
matters. Life & death? No. Well, if you consider 'le petit mort'.
Romance. Not love. Love is something so sacred that only a fool would
imagine it's gender/age/sex/emotion based. I went through a wringer to
learn this. Thank God (fo' real) that I learned pretty quickly because
I was more in touch with how I felt & less in touch with how I should
feel. This is to my earliest 'amors' that cut the deepest. I have no
shrine dedicated to them, but my scars do not condemn them or the time
of parting. Let's start with:
Enitan (1994). I projected on her all the dumb love songs from Nat
King Cole to Ella Fitzgerald to...well we never really took off. Good
thing too. I'd have made her life miserable. I was programmed to.

Sade Adelekan was so many things to me. I even remember times when I'd
vividly re-experience time we spent together during the day. Movies?
Music? Attitudes? Humor? I feel we were a good match. Not perfect (I
liked Hootie & the Blowfish, she didn't.) but good. Because of her I
don't like to go to or eat anything from Tastee Fried Chicken. She
told me we were 'only friends' during a thing her 'christian group'
were holding there. Don't get me wrong. I may have been led on or not,
it might have been intentional or not. I'm not mad at her. She did cut
pretty deep. So deep, I can't voice it all here. But I'm glad it was
her. I was going to check up on her, but it felt like stalking, so I
just let it be. I still think she's pretty. She got me writing poetry.
Really serious shit! I mean, my friend Osahon Eka was
there...literally. He was her neighbour & I'd chill at his end until I
thought it was appropriate to go over to spend time. I think, just
suggesting, I think she thought I was in the closet in certain issues.
You know what? I will do a series on the women who shaped my views on
love, romance, sex, involvement, rejection, attachment, break-ups,
make-ups, etc.
It was Seal who sang "When you lose your self-esteeme, that's when love dies."

I will start that but first I want to share this with...y'know, you.
"If music be the food of love/ Play on."- William Shakespeare.
Never underestimate the power of music. It has shaped me in ways I can
only appreciate 'ipso facto'. In terms of love, boy! Don't get it the
wrong way. I still feel there's a reason why fornication has a
negative connotation. The best sex is outside guilt, without drugs,
without alcohol, without the drama that comes with lovelessness & sin.
I'm not saying I've not done any of these things. If anything at all,
I've been consistently letting myself down. Especially when I think
there's a reward for holding back & there isn't. Maturity has revealed
to me the futility of that mentality. It's like hoping for a medal for
not holding your breath for 2 minutes at will. Suffocation is the
disincentive. The incentive? Are you really expecting that to be
non-rhetoric? Of course not.
I will present a roll-call of past love interests, lovers & such.
Nothing embarrassing will come out of this... I hope. Drum roll
please. Dj, play Still Love Remains by Seal.

Enitan, Sade, Kemi, Upe, Faith, Idiatou, Nenkai, Mmem, Tope, Omi,
Martha, Bade, Antje...
All beautiful women. No angst towards them. They've taught me what's
good, bad, & ugly about myself. I still love them, but it's a
translated kind of love. Like your favorite scar...maybe that's not
appropriate for MOST of them. All will be explained in their
individual blog posts.

Do I miss them? Do you really want to know? Do they? Do I?

--
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I recognise with...

I recognise with...

I watched a lot of movies as a child. Been a Batman fan for over 27
years & counting. I've always been more into the psychology of events
& personalities. So I don't judge people as readily as before.
Everything we see in the movies, read in comic books, watch in
cartoons...they are all precursors to what we haven't yet experienced.
If we've experienced them, then they are points of empathy in a
selfish world. I don't believe there's any nobility in profit-seeking
alone. I very much doubt that any commercially successful movie was
put together for the hope to validate the lives of people in need of
it. I just take what I can. And move on. In this light, I would like
to put together a personal honour roll of real & imagined
personalities that I recognise with.

I recognise with...
Batman/Bruce Wayne for his belief beyond the limits of his body &
choosing to break his mind so as to mold it into something less than a
god and so much more of a man. You don't need to be a billionaire to
avoid responsibility...or to take it up.

J. J. Okocha for knowing when to bow out. For loving what he did. For
not giving in when his freekicks failed the team. For handling
captaincy awkwardly for the first time and doing brilliantly later on.
For staying simple.

Michael Corleone (GODFATHER I) for recognising the demand of taking up
the mantle. It is a simple thing to run away. It is a curse to outrun
yourself, your destiny.

Alexander the Great. Never went into a fight without seeking approval
from his gods. Always good to his mother. Was a sound leader. His men
had never faced war-elephants before, but he stood his ground & his
men stood theirs.

Julius Ceasar. He read of Alexander's exploits & questioned himself to
the point of loud tears. He couldn't fathom betrayal. It is the same
as lack of faith. All will taste of it. Few will walk away. I did. Not
to be mistaken for rejection, betrayal means your worth as a person
was no more than a meal to another person. It hurts so very much.

Malcolm (Little) X. He couldn't fathom betrayal either. It robbed him
of his blindness, dogmatism, unforgiveness & drive for segregation. If
you've not read his biography, you wouldn't know that wanted to
apologise to the white girl whose offer to help he had turned down. He
never got the chance to. I keep that in mind when I think of people I
should forgive or ask forgiveness from. He was impatient with people
who didn't wear a watch. He felt disrespecting the time of others was
disrespecting their person. He also loved others as he loved himself.

Decimus Maximus Meridius (Gladiator). He was an example of a man.
Always in control. Avoided the fearful. Took risks when required.
Mocked false nobility. Remained a leader of men by example & deed,
even as a slave in a ludus.

The Joker. I may not approve of his motivations & his work (face it.
We as a race are homicidal.) his understanding that we are not in
control is basic to my understanding of this world. What he calls
chaos, I call the will of God. Our individual beliefs of what should
be is nothing more than refined petulance when compared to God's will.
It was said (Frederick Neitzsche or Fernando Pessoa, I'll sort that
out later) that in the presence of supreme authourity, all protests
cease. I believe that. Without flinching. I'm not the King of Random,
but I'm working on it.

Che Guevara. I can work a kalashnikov, I could kill in self-defence,
but I couldn't stand by, feeling useless as other people in need of my
help are denied it...by me. He came from a privileged family. He left
all that to rescue people who weren't even related to him. He died
doing that work. He lives on shirts and portraits. Those who killed
him...no one cares. No one.

Jesus (bar Joseph) Christ. I once shuddered in absolute fear when I
considered what it would have been for mankind, if he had chosen to
turn evil...just for the sake of it. I'd just fallen as a christian &
I went through all the people I'd disappointed. Then the idea came to
me. It is said, & I agree, that doubt is the beginning of faith. I
examined my doubts that led to my fall, the things I'd surrendered for
the brief pleasures, the resentment I had for those who looked up to
my shining example because I felt it was too much to put on my
shoulders. And I thought, if Christ had decided we weren't worth it,
if he had said, "Fuck it! They won't be as holy as me. So many going
to hell already. What's the point?"
Only a dogma-driven person would imagine that He didn't share the same
passions as we, the same hunger & thirst, the same frustration at
being misunderstood. I'm glad he was stronger than me then, stronger
than I'll ever be. I recognise with him because he's not an enshrined
figure in the past. He's a current personality. Living. Real.
Involved. Interceding. Man can never reach God where he is in
perfection. But he can reach down to us in our imperfection. He can
lift us up. He has. I took his hand. He, my life. It's good

--
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The courage to have courage

The courage to have courage.

I'm going to bare my soul here. Not too much, mind you. Too often
people have used my rare sincerity against me. They are forgiven, but
not forgotten, wherever they might be.
It has been like peeling an onion when I look back at the time I've
been given so far. Been on suicide watch a couple of times. I guess
you can say I'm on suicide watch right now. It's a unique type of
suicide. I kill who I am when it seems to get in the way of who I have
to become. But that's for another blog. *Reminder to self :)*
In my short life, I've patted myself on the back for my contributions
to the art of expression. According to numerology, I'm a 'one'.
According to personality profiling, I'm a melancholic/choleric.
According to my parents, I'm a good reason to be proud. According to
my siblings, I'm an odd type of savant (in a good way :) ). According
to my friends, I'm...well, I've been very different. I think peculiar
was the word my ex-girlfriend used 2 fridays ago. I take a lot of
getting used to. According to my enemies, I'm the reason hate (be it
overt, covert, slight, strong, calm, passionate, civilised, wild, etc)
was defined as a foundation for certain relationships. According to
God, that is defined, but the pleasure is in the journey to
discovering what he thinks ;).
The courage to have courage for me, in my humble opinion, is to
recognise fear & challenge it. Call it out by its name & let the Judge
of life decide if you will stand or not. He's been kind to me. I could
write a psalm to that, but not quite yet. Have to make do with a blog.
When I was preparing for my JAMB exams, I was taking the diet for
medicine. That was Chemistry, Physics and Biology. I did some soul
searching & asked my parents if they thought medicine was a good
course for me. I was proficient in Biology (thank you, Sir David
Attenborough) & my mom said I had good bed-side manners. My mother
told me, "You do what you want to do. Our approval is meaningless if
you're unhappy. If you do it for your father, when he dies, you'll
still live with yourself."
When it was a month to the exam, I switched to engineering suddenly.
I felt it was open enough for me to change to another course if I
stopped 'feeling' it. I passed. Got on the merit list. Number 69 (I
LIKE NUMBERS). When I gained admission into the University of Lagos to
study Chemical engineering. 3 years down the line, I realised that I
hadn't died yet. I was still trying to please my folks by being
something I wasn't. In my 4th year, I committed suicide. I left to
study Mass Communication at Babcock University. The ironic thing was
that I was such a natural at it. I dated a girl I became was obsessed
with. She dumped me for my closest friend. I was killed (technically,
it was suicide because she was so hot, I was so not. We're friends
now. Don't ask about the guy. I don't talk about him. Not even after 2
bottles of anything).
Everytime I die, I'm reborn closer to who I have to be. It's not
suicide that's as important as the courage to do it. It's not the
courage that's as important as the courage to have the courage to do
it.
I'm not fearless. I still harbour some fears like being alone, being
broken beyond repair, having nothing to do to make me stand out, being
unmarried, being taken for granted... I will have to die to them to
live fully. But I'm on the way there. If you doubt me, understand that
I've accepted that I'm living in a lesson. I'm resigned myself to the
fact that I will have to concede myself to dying in each of these
fears to live more. I understand this at every given time. I pray my
courage doesn't fail me. The courage to have courage.

--
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