Profuse apologies for not publishing last week! I was caught up in the Social Media week that took place in Africa for the very first time. It was hosted in Lagos with so many amazing seminars, topics and people to meet. It was a great time of learning and connecting. It was also pretty hectic and I ended up not been able to deliver on my promise to you. Please forgive me and I hope all’s forgiven?

Well yesterday was the Oscars and boy did I have a great time watching the ceremony. As a film buff I really have no choice but to watch Hollywood in its full glory! I enjoy the show from beginning to end and love listening to the winners’ speech et al. Of course the red carpet is another treat for me, all those lovely gowns…

Anyway, I watched the ceremony and had a great time. It was pretty interesting because I also had a nine am Monday meeting in Victoria Island. There was the rub all its own and I couldn’t afford to get carried away and miss my ride there either. Thankfully I managed to get ready without missing anything per se. To help matters, I was the first person to get to the rendezvous. Yes the others were slightly behind schedule so everything worked out.

I got to the island early enough to wait for my meeting. I prefer to be early and wait, rather than be stuck in traffic and late. I believe anyone that uses Lagos traffic as an excuse is totally unserious about whatever they’re about. Anyways, I decided to mark time in an eatery.

At the time I walked in I wasn’t really thinking about breakfast since I’d already had beverage whilst at the Oscars. I realised I was hungry and decided to grab something light. I love the Topper Salad and knew that would be my choice. It’s not only ‘healthy’ but filling and I knew it would do just the trick. This was one of the best decisions I made and it did wonders all day.

I joined the queue and when my enquiry about the salad wasn’t adequately answered I decided to use the convenience before delving further. I entered, did my business and came out to wash my hands. It was then I noticed a man’s urinal. I was still wondering what this was doing in the ladies when simultaneously the answer dawned on me! Without further ado I rushed out.

I ended up in the real ladies and washed my hands. I honestly don’t know how I wound up in the gents…all I can say is that it a fallout of the Oscars. I was totally grateful to God that my gaff was not witnessed since I wouldn’t have been able to explain. A service boy gave me a weird look when I emerged from the ladies but I deftly ignored it. As if that wasn’t enough drama to last a month little did I know that more was about to unfold at the service counter.

Dutifully I lined up once again in the quest for my healthy breakfast and asked about the salad. The attendant said he’d ask and so I continued to wait patiently. In the meantime he continued to attend to the others on the line. The next thing a rather rude and loud voice asks me whether I had been attended to. I turned towards the woman and nodded. I was still wondering what her issue was when she also said, ‘you should take note of people that come first.’

In all this the service people continued to take and give completed orders to customers. Apparently madam felt she had come before someone else being served and she didn’t like it. She continued her little rant at a higher octave with, ‘we have things to do this morning.’ Of course not…you’re the only one that apparently has stuff to do early Monday morning. Her voice got louder and her attitude nastier.

Eventually the manager got rid of the nuisance and saved the rest of us from what ended up being the typical shouting, notice me and give me attention syndrome/tantrum. I surmised that she must have had a bad weekend or was anticipating a rough day ahead. On the other hand she may have had issues or then again she’s got serious issues.

I eventually got my salad and settled down to a quiet breakfast. So have you ever been the one that had to shout in a restaurant (or some other place) because of poor service?

With bated breath we await the outcome of the American 2012 vote. Will it be Mitt Romney or Barrack Obama gets another term? This is the primary question the votes will answer.

Here in Nigeria, we’ve participated avidly by watching the live presidential debates, campaigns and the entire electoral process in the United States. I dare say some of us know who we’d vote for if we had the opportunity. To say we’re intrigued and envious would be a mild understatement, especially when we start pondering when we’ll get to that stage in Nigeria.

Yes, there have been aspects of smear in both campaigns, hecklers that may have been hired, instances when both candidates’ performances were less than stellar…but the process has been fascinating to say the least. Politics is that and so much more.

Some have already voted using the absentee option available. This enables you perform your civic duty even if you won’t be around on Election Day itself. When I think about the implications this has if introduced in Nigeria now, it certainly boggles the mind. The massive rigging that takes place at all levels is worrisome without this option. I know we’ll get to the point where transparency, service and integrity can be used in the same breath when politics is mentioned.

I’m no cynic and know that the process has gradually begun. Like an avalanche that’s almost imperceptible during its initial movement but gets bigger as it grows, so has the change started. This is not just in the politics but across board. We’re quick to blame leaders, politicians and the like for our woes but often forget that every single citizen has a part to play in the story.

Votes will be cast throughout the length and breadth of America and it’s people that’ll make that choice. Each will let their voice be heard by doing their civic duty. These individuals believe that what they say matters and use their power in the polls. It goes beyond rhetoric but actively wielding that power to decide and let their public office holders know that they dictate how and if they have served and should continue to do so.

Hurricane Sandy left destruction in its path, but this will not deter those that were affected. The clean-up exercise, mourning and other things connected with this natural disaster continue with the understanding that nature maybe outside human control but the person that gets to lead their nation is in their power. A choice they make by going to the polls and saying it loud and clear.

When Nigerians resolve that this is where the real power lies then we can move ahead as a nation. No longer ‘ruled’ by the political class or intimidated by those chosen to serve. That service is not an entitlement but a privilege and neither is it for a chosen few. When we realise that the power is not only in our grasp but ours to use then we arise and do what must be done. As that realisation takes root and is activated then and only then can we take control of our collective destiny.

Until then, we’ll continue to watch the debates and run commentaries on the electoral process of the entire free world and wonder how they manage to do it.
Spectators wonder at the acts before them whilst actors initiate and participate in the process.

Let’s make sure that our involvement in governance is meaning and not through proxy. The future has much in store and it’s our responsibility to make sure we deliver and make it count.

I was in the right place…at the right time and caught a lady (she was under 40!) reprimanding a man for urinating in front of her residence. She was really riled, especially when she discovered the man was visiting one of her neighbours! He did his business and then entered the compound, blithely chatting with the other chap.

Penelope was on the balcony of the second floor and noticed this fellow doing what others before him had done and she decided she had had enough. ‘Don’t you know that people live here? Doesn’t it cross your mind that urinating in front of this house isn’t right? Why are you so dirty?’ these are a few choice questions that flew in rapid succession.

‘Oga you no sabi say, bringing out your p**** and pissing here no good? She added pidgin for good measure. In case he didn’t understand the preceding queries. Understandably, he didn’t reply but got on with the business at hand.

Penelope took off like a rocket when she saw him enter through the gate. Furthermore, she saw him chatting with Eustace. ‘I’ll get your number from Eustace and call so that you can help during the next environmental, He is one of the sticklers for cleanliness in the compound. All you had to do was wait and keep it in your pants until you got to his apartment!’ Penelope continued her rant without mincing words. The p**** word used to drive home her point.

By this time Eustace was smiling sheepishly and couldn’t quite meet the eyes of the two women witnessing the scene, yours truly being one of them. Obviously embarrassed he couldn’t defend his ‘friend’. The best he could come up with in a subdued voice was, ‘Penelope, I knew you’d take me up on this when you found out he was visiting me.’

Alexis (second bystander) found she could no longer keep quiet and jumped into the fray. ‘Oga since you knew you were visiting Eustace, the best you could have done was waited until you got to his apartment. What you did wasn’t right!’

Initially, I was amazed that Penelope had actually commented on the crime. Having witnessed the same act a few times, the best I’ve done is avert my eyes or left when the crime was in progress. Interestingly, some of the guys boldly meet your gaze head-on, turn away, unzip and do their business before sauntering off.

Apparently, any gutter is bona fide ‘potty’ for some grown men to urinate. Sadly some boys ape them and the tradition is handed over to another generation.

Back to the unfolding drama…all along the perpetrator had been silent. I thought he would remain mute but I was wrong. Mr. Man decided to see how far he could increase Penelope’s ire and ask a few questions of his own. ‘Madam where you go find me come clean up for environmental? Na piss dey dirty your gutter so? Na wa o!’ that’s the intelligent drivel he came up with! That’s the ONLY thing he found to say to defend his action.

The guilty and guilty by association went indoors to escape Penelope’s scathing tongue. Frankly, there was no way they could adequately defend themselves and she was prepared to keep at it. The only question I had during her stellar performance was why she went ballistic that evening. Penelope was fed-up with the smell and seeing countless others line-up to urinate in front of her abode! Mr. Man just tipped the scale and wound up as a casualty.

I gleaned a few lessons from the entire saga i.e. right is still right no matter the nature of the crime and criminal. You must be bold and unashamed when confronting bad choices and the people that make them. You have to be vocal (i.e. take action!) and get off the fence when faced with boldfaced wrong!

I laugh whenever I read or hear anyone say, ‘police is your friend’…in Cantonese! Yes, that’s how ludicrous that phrase has become, because most encounters that ordinary citizens have with them are the less than friendly variety.

There’s no doubt that there are some civil officers among the lot and that they do have their uses, where would we be without them after all? The tales that abound when an up-close-and-personal encounter is narrated doesn’t usually paint this class in a favourable light. Rather unfortunate state of affairs that we have suffered long with and overdue for a redress.

It’s a grave pity that their conditions of service are not the best and worse still that the general mentality is that the public must make up for it…one way or the other! Thus, road blocks were the official toll gates for ‘dropping’ something for the weekend.

Those that have no sin need not fear the enforcers of the law, but an infringement or the other is the order of the day on the streets and highways nationwide. In rare situations where this isn’t the case, the fawning to prise the note out of the person in the clear becomes a sickening ritual.

You can’t blame them, Nigeria is corrupt, they must do what they can to survive…that’s the general thinking even from those that frown on practitioners of graft. We can sympathise with the poor conditions under which these men and women find themselves but there must another way.

Intimidation, loud voices, unpleasant expressions and bullying are some of the familiar postures we observe as regular police behaviour. When there’s a smile and a show of teeth, an alarm goes off from the recipient and puts them on guard. If red flags aren’t raised, then maybe the person is a natural optimist!

I’ve had my brushes with the police and learned one or two lessons. Older and wiser, I try and avoid them as much as possible and when unavoidable I don’t speak unless it’s really necessary. It’s better to be prepared but unexpected situations happen.

Years ago the VCR had technical issues and went for repairs. It was successfully taken out of the estate without any incident or questions from alert officials. A few days later the chap returns sans video recorder! To cut a long story short, the cops (doesn’t quite describe the Nigerian version, does it?!) seized it and when I got there and pointed out that it had been taken out without any hassles (big mistake), it wasn’t taken kindly…at all.

I had to search for a ten-year old receipt that was ancient history. Eventually, I accompanied my Mom to the police station to retrieve our property. The icing on the cake was when the sergeant that handled ‘the case’ hit on me. I played nice and told him to be expectant. I really couldn’t understand why he thought I’d be eager, especially after how obnoxious he had been. I became very adept at avoiding the station after this unfortunate development.

Like all institutions the police have their indispensable functions in society. Finding the right combination of compensation for members of the force, right relationship with the public, law enforcement and harmony with society is not static. Achieving this balance is possible and has been demonstrated worldwide. When we play our part as citizens i.e. obeying the laws, ensuring that our rights are not violated and also allowing the institutions play their prescribed roles is non-negotiable. I’m sure I’m not the only one that wants to be proud of the Nigerian police as they serve society.

It’s interesting how public speaking is the greatest fear of all time. Facing a room full of people, total strangers in most cases is a little wearing on the nerves. The only thing that stands between you and the sea of faces is empty space.

Interesting situation though, it doesn’t seem to matter whether those present are five or ten thousand. The discomfort kicks in once the stage has been set and the spotlight comes on. Thus, prior to a poetry recitation, hundred metres dash, duet et al, the jitters make their appearance.

Every performer i.e. speaker, actor, or even athlete experiences butterflies in the tummy. For some it’s almost unnoticeable but for others it’s the equivalent of 7.0 points on the Richter scale! Apparently no one, no matter how seasoned has quite gotten used to doing what they have to do under the glare of numerous pairs of eyes.

Every person involved in a form of public performance or the other has a way of coping with nerves. If this is a vocation, they really have no choice but to learn how to control this unfortunate fall-out. If they can’t, it will obviously affect performance and this is certainly not good in the long run.

Veteran actors, speakers and athletes seem unflappable…I guess that’s what professionalism is all about. Only when faced with a similar position does personal understanding dawn of what it entails.

For an extreme case of stage fright, performance becomes almost impossible and the deer-in-the-headlights moment occurs when they forget their lines. It could be a momentary hiccup, other times the individual can’t recover and their performance takes a downward slide.

No one has gotten away without those butterflies in the stomach phenomenon. If you’ve heard anyone say otherwise, then realise today that the person is a consummate liar! The best that can be done with the fission of fear is to learn how to roll with it. If the first few seconds can be mastered, every other thing falls into place and it dissipates. The next time it rears its head again is at a fresh performance.

We’ve all heard that practise makes perfect and is certainly true that it helps public performances tremendously. Ensuring that the necessary rehearsals, training etc is done makes a huge difference when stage fright is confronted. If the lines have been drummed in and the muscles oiled for a certain task, a slight hesitation will pass unnoticed and nobody none the wiser.

The fear that comes from public appearances can be debilitating and I believe it helps prevent unnecessarily swollen heads! Every public performer knows that you’re only as good as your last performance and so they tread very carefully and strive to do better than the last outing.

I believe that this unique situation keeps this class of professionals down to earth and relatively level headed. Knowing that your evaluation and subsequent value is only as good as your last performance can be quite daunting and precautinary at the same time. Live theatre, athletics, public speaking and spin-offs of these make life more interesting for spectators and other consumers.

Consummate professionals in this specialty make it look very easy and so if you’ve never had to face a crowd you’ll think it’s a walk in the park. The only inkling you have that it’s not what it seems is when presented with the microphone and you’ve walked onstage. Words may fail and then the realisation that like everything else there’s a price to pay for a modicum of expertise in speaking and performing in public…it ain’t beans people!

My bug eating days are far, far behind me. I got over catching those insects that emerge after the rains and frying them. I hear ewwww…don’t knock it if you haven’t tried them is all I’ll say on the topic!

Anyway, I’ve not eaten calves’ brains, squirming, wriggly, slimy critters that defy definition and look a zillion times worse. I’ve also never had to jump out of a burning building; dive into a tank filled with a stinking gel-like substance that defied categorisation, to find one thing or the other so I could cart home a truck load of money. Along with several others, I stayed glued to the screen as contestants of the popular television show that shares the same title as my post, did some of these disgusting and heart-stopping things and much more!

The Benjamin incentive is totally irresistible, so quite regularly men and women did what some of us wouldn’t (couldn’t!) and a few went away lucky. Others took away the bad taste (literarily) in their mouths as a memento and yet others were triumphant having faced their fears.

The latest version of this show is currently being played out on the streets of Lagos. The contestants are LASTMA, VIO, FRSC officials versus commercial and private drivers. The most entertaining are the encounters between any of these arms and the danfo drivers.

Actual bus-stops are being properly utilised and all illegal stops have miraculously disappeared…unless LASTMA isn’t within fifty metres and the bus can get away with it.

Getting off at your stop can be further delayed because the bus must queue and actually come to a complete stop at the legal stop before passengers can get off. Any slip up by the driver/conductor combo is an automatic fine. The boys in wine and yellow will swarm like flies, seize the keys, empty the bus and drive the vehicle to their office.

To prevent getting within ten metres of the hell called LASTMA HQ, all drivers comply. The obvious presence of the LASTMA cars and the many officers needed to enforce the traffic regulations is overwhelming. At Anthony bus-stop (in particular) the men in wine and yellow number no less than five the few times I’ve passed by.

Unnecessary money paid in fines (official and un-official), time wastage and the numerous disadvantages of getting on the wrong side of the official hawks watching traffic has turned the former reckless lions of Lagos roads into meek lambs governed by fear.

Wielding the big stick has brought some order to commuters. Motorists are now reassured that if uniforms are in the vicinity, the craziness exhibited by commercial drivers will be tempered. Police men don’t really have the type of clout that the FRSC and LASTMA chaps have. Danfo drivers prefer to tangle with the men in black, but not at all with the others!

Private drivers also have the occasional run-in with the uniforms but the outcome could swing either way depending on several reasons. The FF has come to stay and become the ‘business as usual’ way on the highways and roads of Lagos…at least in the upcoming future without any apologies to private or commercial drivers!

My conversation with a close and good friend of mine sparked the thought for this post. We were doing some catching up and as usual asking about mutual friends. I ended up sending him photos taken eighteen years ago at my birthday. We travelled down memory lane and how time had flown. It happened without any conscious monitoring on our part and we find ourselves still friends, after having weathered several storms together.

We’ve known each other for twenty-years. Yes, I’ve finally gotten to the point where I can proudly make that statement and be happy when doing so. The speculation about my age is now rife, but I stick to my story that I’m still not a day over twenty-one…

I grew up listening to my Dad sprinkle his stories with the staggering number of years he’d known his friends, thirty, forty and counting, I was always awed by the figures. I never got tired of the stories, even though I could rattle some by heart. The affection and nostalgia that each telling brought could be heard in his tone and seen in his countenance. I secretly hoped that I’d be in his shoes one day and sure enough, here I am doing the same thing!

I don’t hold to the theory of a best friend and I’ve often wondered at those that can point out a single person as theirs. Recently, I was trying to figure out the person I could confer this singular honour on and found that it wasn’t possible. I wasn’t sad at this realisation but glad I could put several people into the slot of friends.

Within that category I found that I also had good friends, close friends and the more intimate sort. If I was to draw a Venn diagram (good old maths!), there would be people that intersected and that made it more real too. Using modern parlance, I could carve out a sector that could also be termed as my BFFs. So I guess that means that my previous assertion has been strengthened.

I’ve known my primary and secondary school mates for thirty-one and twenty-eight years respectively. Some of them I’ve not seen in the past decade and others I interact with more regularly. The level of comfort I experience in those circles is different from what obtains with those I’ve known for five years.

Certainly we’ve all changed (in various ways) and maturity is necessary in order to make headway in life, but certain ‘airs’ necessary to some aspect of our lives are absent when we relate with each other. I like to hope so anyway. I know I’m not the only person that has people like that in her life. The family is the first place for this and gradually we discover others we can kick back and just BE when we’re with them, nothing else required and no questions asked.

As the relationships become more intimate, you also get challenged about what’s going on with you. Your progress is of the utmost concern and questions you might have been afraid or hesitant to ask are thrown at you. Your toes are stepped on and an argument or fight results. If you think through properly, you sometimes find out that the person is eerily right and you have to make some painful changes. You also patch things up and the relationship is made stronger.

I love that I have people I can talk with and share details about my life. The good, bad, trying, sad and victorious moments are part of the package. At times they irritate me royally (normal) and I can only stand to relate in minute doses, other days I can’t get enough! Nowadays, those in-the-hair moments are not as much, and so I cherish what I can get.

We’ve learned over time when to give each other space and when not to. These people can ask questions you don’t think twice about answering and when less qualified individuals do it, you raise your eyebrows and wonder when they got the clearance to go ahead.

The various levels of friendships and relationship have different rules that apply. Once you know the type of person and friend you have it becomes relatively easy. As easy as any other relationship I guess. I cherish the people I can call out and that can do the same for me. I trust them and know that the same is reposed in me.

For my friends, good friends, close and best friends forever…thank you for the journey so far. I look forward to recounting more tales, leaking ancient photographs where nieces, nephews and other people can’t recognise you. May we know more years of getting to know each other better and growing in that trust. I know that the day is near where I can proudly tell my grandchildren that you’ve been a part of my life for the past fifty years. God bless you!

I remember my first crush. I was a late bloomer and so experienced this in secondary school. Unlike my contemporaries that felt the first fluttering of puppy love earlier, I didn’t have time for all that. Boys were more of a nuisance, to be tolerated and ignored, depending on the circumstances. That period was for competing with them and generally getting on each other’s nerves and the one-upmanship that went with this stage.

My head was filled with fantasies of tall, dark, handsome tycoons, exotic places, exquisite women and other romantic tales as spun by M&B’s. I started reading these pretty early and consumed them daily. So with images of being swept off my feet and seized with an all consuming passion, the boys in my primary school class were certainly no match for the hunks that fell for me (the reverse is also the case) with each new book.

Secondary school was that period where physical and emotional development was greatly accelerated. The dreaded teen years brought the awkwardness and hormonal imbalance associated with it. The love-hate relationship and ambiguous feelings towards males was also more aggravated than ever before! Matters were further compounded by the proximity that being a boarder in a mixed school entailed.

Anyone that has been a boarder will understand the above scenario. You not only had to compete with members of the opposite sex in terms of academics, but you also had to learn how to survive them socially! I’ll admit that in retrospect the training afforded through these interactions have put me in good stead over the years and thus irrevocably become an essential part of who I’ve become.
I discovered that I liked this particular boy and every time I saw him…my world shifted. This happened often, especially during the week. Weekends were much better, although some pining took place since I couldn’t get my daily fix. Thankfully my sorry condition was not noticed (if it was suspected nobody said and the rumour mill was always a reliable source for things like this) and the fact that we weren’t in the same class helped immensely. Furthermore, I played it close to my chest and didn’t breathe a word to anyone.

My secret was absolutely safe. In the throes of my passion I decided to go out on a limb and tell him. On Val’s day I bought a humongous, sentimentally classic card, signed it (not my real name of course!) and had it delivered. For the delivery a close friend (in another form) was co-opted to assist. Naturally she was sworn to secrecy about my identity.

From a safe distance I watched (close enough to see everything but not enough to raise any suspicion) her hand him the card. Of course his curiosity had him ask about the sender, but thankfully Tayo masterfully, held up her end of the bargain. Ifeanyi thanked her and watched her leave the class. Since it was break-time, there was no hurry to return to class and I watched him open the envelope and see some of his friends peer over his shoulders.

The initials I used were absolutely fictitious and so I was totally safe. The messenger was also never coerced to reveal the identity of the mystery valentine. I preferred to keep my rose-coloured glasses firmly perched on my nose. My romantic notions about him gradually faded and I eventually got to know him better and discovered he was a nice chap in reality, not just my imagination. That has been one of my more intriguing romantic adventures. Twenty-one years later and I finally share…

Everybody has habits. Fortunately or unfortunately they end up as a large portion that constitutes our personalities. Whenever the word is mentioned, it sometimes dredges up unpalatable things we do (that it were better we didn’t) and some we don’t even know fall into that category. On the other hand these characteristics may not be unpleasant…unusual more like and often times we’re not even aware of them.

Thus we all possess conscious and unconscious patterns we exhibit. Like one definition put it, ‘an action or pattern of behaviour that is repeated so often that it becomes typical of somebody, although he or she may be unaware of it.’ So there are things we do, say, attitudes we have or the way we behave that are can be categorised in this group and the interesting part is that we may be totally clueless to them.

Sometimes family and friends spot them before we do and may even point them out. When this happens, we can become defensive about them and may also choose to disbelieve what more than one person has pointed out. With this act on their part it is more likely that we become conscious of them.

If you happen to be in a good place when a particular attribute is brought to your attention, you could accept it, but if this is not the case denial is the name of the game. If the pattern is seen as detrimental to you and ultimately those around you then it could be a challenge to surmount.

As we all know not everyone is rational and especially when it comes to personal issues. Moreover, the delicate nature of bringing this to light is fraught with tension. It’s sometimes easy enough to tell a friend or maybe a sibling that a pattern would be better changed or ditched altogether. Often times a foible is glaring enough to others and the person exhibiting it is always the last to know.

Those patterns that may not be necessarily harmful, on the other hand once pointed out, makes the individual conscious of whatever it could be. When this happens, the person may try and stop it even if it’s not harmful or embarrassing. Again, they could just realise what’s going on, smile and continue with their activity. Incidentally most likely the person that pointed it out to them will also be remembered as the thoughts flash.

This happened to be recently when a friend asked why I was leaning against the kitchen cabinet whilst washing up. I didn’t even realise I was doing this and my answer was along the same lines. The next time I was in that position, doing the same thing I stood upright. Now each time I find myself leaning this way, I consciously adjust my position.

A while back one of my siblings’ pointed out a habit that I not only didn’t agree with but thought was totally ludicrous, I left in a huff resolved not to visit in the near future. Eventually I discovered she (and the two others that had mentioned it) was not only correct but I learned this in one of the most dramatic and painful ways! Once I discovered it was true I resolved to overcome this damaging attribute. I’m the better for it but it wasn’t easy to accept or change either!

Truth can be extremely painful, especially when it affects our essence and even though our habits make us who and what we have become over time, we can still be better versions. Discovery is the theme of life and the evolution of self and its finest qualities part of the journey.