Archive for November, 2011

Life wears no Jeans

Everything looks good in jeans; but unfortunately life doesn’t wear jeans so we see it in its bareness, ugly and beautiful, depending on which side of it you are on. There it is! Been waiting to write and start with a very brilliant crazy line. Done.  Been doing a lot of searching and thinking in the last few days. When you hit your head on the door of a bus, flood after streams of cold reality clouds your head.

It’s hard to go a week without listening to some form of complaint about the unfairness of life, some don’t believe tripe is happening to them while some think others are having it easy while they are having it hardest. When some stories hit you, you stop eating and feel like apocalypse started with the complainant with Troy and Sparta meeting together in the person’s life; which seems like it’s the worst a human can have. Then someone comes along and you listen to how Battlestar Galactica met with Ninja’s in their life. Then it strikes you, you have Fadeyi Oloro and James Bond constantly fueding in your own life. Balanced out right? Only you can see it that way. Humans have an inherent tendency to believe that life hates them and isn’t offering them lime; it’s throwing them stones, boulders, in a giant sling.

You feel your story is worse till you listen to others, you feel life is unfair to only you till you see that life is lolling at somebody else. Life wears no jeans; else life would be finer than some women (no pun intended). As I said earlier, everything looks good in jeans, but life is covered in ozone; hardly seductive. Life is unfair as we have known it to be, but repeating it with much energy isn’t going to make it nice all of a sudden. No, it never had. But we need to reconcile ourselves of this truism. You expect reward to come when you put in a good shift of effort, and when sacrifices are made, you naturally expect compensation. But when good people work hard to get something and it eludes the, it’s hard to reconcile. You see a young beautiful girl of tender age fading away with cancer and you see an older patient that have lived a kamikaze reckless life having reasonable health.

Accept the basics, move on to the next step and energize yourself to move on. When you come to terms with the unfairness of life, you will save so much of your energy from not having depressing thoughts. No matter what you are going through, someone is probably having it worse, be happy you are not at d bottom of the food chain (ask the phytoplanktons). I’m currently complaining about the messed up transport means, I will be complaining about the unreliability of Mercedes soon. Bear in mind today, whatever your story is, someone is seeing your story as fairy tale. Appreciate and live your life.


The Journey of Beans and Weeds

One of those days where you crave a nap and it eludes you finally came upon me. One of the days you feel your office chair will turn to a sofa and you will dock and snore; today wasn’t one of those, it was one of those days where the deities of internet agree to frustrate you with bad network and bellicose clients. Those are the days you wish for shorter days and longer nights.

My journeys today precipitated lots of thoughts and a movie could be made out of it. In fact, it would make more sense to show my day today than watch the playboy mansion (I know, I know). Had my lows than highs, but the lows are higher than the highest some people experience. I wanna say some of it. And No, I won’t start with the conductor that refused to gimme my change.

In my series of okada, the season one was the weirdest. The bike man had this huge coat on thatsmelt like beans (the kinda beans that they sell with bread, that all you need remaining is pure water and you are solid for the day) and the helmet was smelt like weed. How on earth can one human being smell like beans and his helmet smells like claro!? All at the same time! I mean, what the fish was he doing? Smoking weed in the bean pot? Or smoking pot in a bowl of beans? Whichever way it is, it’s unpretty.

With so many interludes of other forms of comical acts of nature, the last one was the most fascinating and the most thought provoking. The bike man was an elderly citizen bby all definition (No, unfortunately he didn’t get a national honours). It was a Vespa ( I hate them), but he seemed cool headed until he went in the right direction to the wrong place, I asked him why and he said he knew only that route, then politely asked if I would direct him; I felt like increasing the money, but my ijebu dimensions thought against it. Only halfway did I recognise that he was new in the business and had no clue about the road nor the bike. He was a total rookie. I stopped half way when he seemed to be ready to drop me to the algae infested gutters of our beautiful area (name withheld). I gave him his money and walked the distance.

My concerns are thus; what would make an elderly start riding bike at the twilight of his life, when the red sun is about to sink into the hills. Is the country that messed up that even the elderly have to risk their lives and that of other law abiding citizens? Who can blame them, they need to fend for their families. What have happened to the beautiful lady called “RETIREMENT”? The system is so skewed that it would make no sense for me to try to make it apparent. It is apparent already. You know the most annoying part, I got home and still heard news about fuel subsidy. Really? I just smelt beans and weed in one breath and they wanna remove subsidy in the wake of suspected terrorists capture. What is wrong with them!?

Omo Ghetto Review (Albeit over a year late)

I’m not one of those ‘I don’t watch Nigerian movies’ kinda people. I do watch them, in almost equal proportion as I watch foreign movies. Seriously, they have Denzel Washington and we have erm, Yemi Solade; Touché. Worthy of note and probably commendation is OMO GHETTO; call me medieval or out of sync, it was my lullaby yesterday as I slept in an ocean of ‘stop sebe’, ‘para’ amongst others.

Yeah, I like the way the story started. The whole anger thing may seem alien, but it does happen in people of colour too. The fact that Funke Akindele actually played the ghetto girl that awesomely is a very good one. Lefty, Nicky, Busty and Omo jo Ibo all did their part in showing the other side of life you don’t wanna be against. Ireti Osayemi really looked out of her depth; there is no trace of gangsterism in her ‘mamarism’ (pardon my invention of new words). The slum board was complete with Adebayo Salami; my word, that man knows what he is doing, never broke a sweat in playing the role of ‘Someone else’s father’ and the part where he sang like an iPod shows that he knew those things before the production.

Let’s come to the other side of being that you won’t mind being in, the two families of the guy and the girl. The dramatic way the smashing girl broke everything, you would feel she had a future in the quarry. Imagine focusing all those negative energy into splitting boulders, she would make a name and a decent living out of it. It was in equal proportions as things were done in moderation. I’ve never been a big fan of Funke Akindele, but she seems to pray the roles of derelicts or dysfunctional humans perfectly; I’m not insinuating anything here. And Yinka Quadri does know how to play the role of an angry father well; I still remember the young him and the slim Peju Ogunmola. I’m that old.

What I find quite disturbing and slightly amusing is the fact the slum/ghetto actually exists. Why on earth do people have to live that low, not disrespecting them, but I think they have as much right as the people that have opportunity to decent livings. The Omo ghettos of this world actually are voters’ card carrying citizens that should be treated like others but when you see the kinda environment they leave in, you will shake your head about the future of the ones birthed there. Is there any hope for them, do they have a chance of doing something ‘out of their league’. We’ve seen people rise out of the dusts to become kings, but are the packs of alpha males leading us blind to the fact that some people are living at a level where diseases and death seem like their next door neighbour? Some things have to change, else the lower lives will keep suffering and the higher ones will keep enjoying (and annoyingly whining too) and after a period of time the lower will become a terror to the higher and the cycle continues.

The part where them Lefty and the girls went to pour shite on the UNILAG girls, priceless!!

Ode to Miss Anike

I dont know how to hide my feelings
To me they are quite clear
That everytime i talk to you
I'm wishing you were here 

Golden yellow sunshine above the hills
The beauty of the heaven in her eyes
One Mortal soul that transcends immortals
The wingless angel that dominates the blue skies

You fill my heart with happiness
The reason why I smile
But when you have to leave my company
I miss you all the while 

Nobody needs Anike more than I
And you know I'd never let you go
Cause you fill me with the kind of joy
That only few can ever know 

People find it hard to say
The words i say so clear
But when i think of your sweet love
It's something i hold dear 

Miss Anike I"ll just wait right where I am
I can be patient too
Till you come back online to me
Know im missing you...


Not all NEW is Good

If  you wanna learn things you never knew or things you never knew existed, take a taxi in Lagos. Regardless of the misdemeanour of the driver or their possibly comical accent, just take a cab. You might end up finding out that the head of landlords association of your area has two sons in the asylum and the first child got deported for sporting some excessive facial marks.


Ok, lemme go straight to my thoughts, or drown in them, knowing they can never get me killed. What do we make of technology? I know digital microwaves are a lot easier to use than the normal one, that’s not the kinda techie I’m on about; neither is it birth control pills. There is a part of man that instinctively believes that anything new is better than what was already on ground. People who are dominated by that part are the first to jump on the wagon of ‘latest’ regardless of how easier or hard their life is gonna be after.


This may come as a spoiler or killjoy, but I really do not see the point in having a large digital wall clock or digital wrist watch; I mean, our brainwave is getting so horizontal that we cannot process a big analog information? Seriously? The only place I wanna see a digitized version of time is on my loving phone. Then there comes the frustratingly annoying digitized dashboard of the new Honda Civic; whoever thought it was a good idea to read a 230KMH digital dashboard should be locked up in a shaq with lots of pregnant women having contractions (no pun intended) (Serious) and watch a heavy downpour of hormones on his head. It’s that bad.


Someone brought it to my attentions that not all technological advancement are meant to replace that old ones, and I thinks it’s a gem from the larva falls. If I buy a new piece of electronics and do not use it in the next year or two, it becomes obsolete and rather useless; that’s the fast pace of the gizmo kingdom we live in. But in all sense of sincerity, I do not submit to the fact that the new is better than the old solely because it is new. Like the new iPhone 4S trademark Siri function, that’s the feature that was created the acme of laziness. Why do I have to press the phone to talk to the phone to do something I can press the phone to achieve? Call me medieval, but it’s a FAIL, and it’s useless.


Moral of the story; none whatsoever yet. But I think it’s pretty lame to get ‘the new’ for the sole reason of its being ‘new’

I actually got vexed by a giant digital wall clock proverbially. It was showing the wrong time.

Butterfly on a Fingertip.

From the depressing low of Friday to the exhilarating natural double high of Saturday back to the silently gloomy boredom of the festive holidays, my graph was more like that of a quadratic equation with a positive ‘c’; pardon my people with a morbid fear of calculations. In between these many activities was a wedding, a birthday and a television. I watched Timi Dakolo of West African Idols sing ‘More than I’, ‘Stuck on you’ and ‘Flying without wings’ and I wonder where the ‘halo’ the dude has been and I thought, what if he was patiently cooking something up. Keyword being PATIENCE.

Forgive my possibly rusticated knowledge of zoology, biology or toxicology (whichever moulting falls into), but I wanna pick on that beautiful piece of radiating awesomeness called the Butterfly. In my top five creatures of flawless beauty and graceful magnificence is the butterfly. So bright and colourful that I wish some people were half as attractive as them. They slice through the air and flap their multi chromatic wings in the bright sunshine, they adorn a garden. They don’t blend into the colours of the field in the way a chameleon would, they stand and deeply make us wish we could fly like them and feed on nectar (seriously, life should be that simple). But one thing makes the butterfly come out beautiful; Patience.

Have you ever seen a larva? It looks like something I don’t wanna say for the sake of those eating as they read this; it looks like colourised goat poop stringed together. Yes. And they live like that forever before turning to butterflies. If you were given an ugly larva with no directions as to when it would moult, would you be patient enough for the beauty inside to be birthed?

Love songs are beautiful. Gosh they are transcendental. ‘Flying without wings’ is so heavenly, celestial in all forms and figures, ‘Say Yes’ by Elliot Smith is a lazy floaters mini love manual; absoposilutely fabulous. But the biblical Jacob would probably have been singing ‘Stuck on You’ for Rachael. Yeah, he was on his way. When the words of love songs stream down into your soul, when Bon Jovi, Luther Vandross and George Benson are making you mushy mushy, remember they are out to sell albums. And no, I’m not a kill joy.

The hunter mentality in we men had made it a compulsive pursuit in which when we do not catch the deer, we make do with the guinea fowl; awesome taste profile, awful substitution. When we lack patience, we aim for a Range Rover and settle for a Datsun 180k because we didn’t wait a couple of hours more.

When you have a wonderful voice and wanna be a singer, you need to be patient and not end up like Kelly Handsome. You wanna play football and want to be the best dead ball specialist, you need to be patient and not be the next David Bentley. When you wanna speculate the stock market and aren’t patient, you will be dead or broke or both. If you are in love with a girl and you’re convinced she is the one, be impatient and lose the girl.

Jacob was no fool; he would be a superhero in the modern day climate. Seriously. Fourteen years sounds like vegetable love, but that was some patience blended with purpose. The beautiful butterfly took time to grow, love does the same. Give it time and it would bloom. The patient dog proverbially gets the fattest bone. Timi will have his time, and so will any patient human. Love is beautiful and delicate like a butterfly, but to have a butterfly land on your fingertip trustingly, you need a huge dose of longanimity. My mind is blown and I’m counting my time.

There Are Still Good Men

“I just needs a guy to come up to me, give me a hug & say, “I`m so sorry that my entire gender sucks.’” Was the first qoute I saw on twitter at sunrise and I wasn’t exactly upset. Honestly. But for a few moments, streams of thoughts entered into my head. Are guys that hopelessly messed up? I honestly don’t wanna think so. Before you shoot me ladies, lemme explain (or run away, whichever claims my instincts first). It sounds like a harmless myth at first, but when the totality of the damage the mantra of ‘no good men’ have done to our society (or the world), one would wonder where it all started from, or where it might lead to.

I have always taken the side of the world-view that believes humans interpret events through their eyes and through a thick mass of accumulated experience (the more dignifying name we love to give our mistakes), so we define things by the way we see it; classic half empty half full glass kinda story. When a lady says there are no good men, I get tempted to ask, ‘what do you define as good?’ you would be amazed at the amount of answers you would get and the magnitude of variance in definitions; Which is principally from the depth of historical failings of men over the years, albeit as unjustly magnified as they have been. Historical standard for fatherhood has been pitifully low and many still judge by those old standard. Men, in times of old, were seen as egotistical, insensitive, uncompassionate among other image-damaging definitions, and often rightfully so.

The media had made no mistakes in pointing out the failings of men in past and recent times, the Tiger Woods, John Terry, Strauss Khan, and even one of our wife-beating Nigerian ambassadors here (I can’t seem to remember his name). And those seem like the only examples of men that the sensationalist media shoots to us.

The way many were brought up gives them plenty of reasons to believe good men are in short supply if not as extinct as the dinosaur. With fathers who cared more for beer, money and concubines than they did for their family, it’s not a tough call to see why women see all eggs as bad. I really do not get why the proportionality had to change over time, there were many mothers back then in the 40s to 80s, now the tables are turning……or have turned. So it’s safe to assume that where some people are coming from makes them adopt the view that men are not able to cut the mustard. I’m blessed to have been raised by the best dads in this world; made me understand lots of things; My best example of a man if from that of my father.

Most of the expectations for men by women have been unreasonably raised by the influx of harlequin novels and romantic comedy movies. Seriously, have you seen The Notebook (Ryan Gosling)? I love the movie, it’s almost unreal. But on the darker side, not all men can be like that, sorry. Most of human desires come from our subconscious and have been placed there by someone else. Society has stereotyped men by a much skewed perspective that it’s very hard to believe that good men exist in this world. Unfortunately, a young lady builds her expectation of a man from these unbalanced views, coupled with whatever she grew up knowing.

I can say from what I have seen at my young age that most of the perceptions that men are not good do come from a bulk of the other gender who believes that men are not good because they have made the mistake of falling into the hands of the wrong ones, some believe men are incapable of loving because they have forced themselves into loving a man that does not love them back, some even believe no woman can find happiness with a man because their parents did not. But I tell you, it doesn’t work that way; entirely. I just believe men have to step up and take responsibility of their wards because ultimately, a girl’s view of how men are generally depends on what she knows of her father or what she has heard about him. If a man behaves like a total douchebag, the daughter is gonna believe that’s the way men are in generality.

We still have men that care and are very capable of loving if given the chance; we still have men who had derelict parents but still have a wonderful family. We still have fathers that their children wanna emulate because of their love of compassion. And from this whole write up, it’s apparent that men still struggle to string words together to make sense.

Celebrate the good men in your life. Be it your father, uncle, brother, pastor, friend, husband or even Ex-boyfriend. Good men are like diamonds in a quarry buried deeply under the refuse hill. Celebrate them even if they don’t seem like they see it or they brush it aside, it actually means the world cup to them. Regardless of what the general view is, there are still good men; and I am one.