Archive for the ‘ Cannot be confined by a definition ’ Category

Occupy Nigeria on the International Scene

During the whole occupy Nigeria protest period, how many of us actually expected #occupyNigeria to trend worldwide, a large sum of us. Did it happen? No. For a couple of days, it wasn’t even trending in Lagos. Irrelevant you might think. We all went to CNN’s page to fill the i-Report thing, hoping that by bringing the information to the dinner table of the international audience, we would have some aces in our deck. Did CNN show it? Was it on their front page? No. They did not cover the protest; rather they concentrated on the bombings happening in some areas of the country. They didn’t take notice, until…..

The naked untrained eye might not read too much to this, but do you think it is pure coincidence that the government actually didn’t take the protest seriously until PENGASSAN decided to join the strike? Nah, I think not. And I kid you not, that singular act has brought international eyes on us. International = America.

Nigeria supplies America an ample amount of crude oil, the stocks of these American companies hinge on oil field activities in Nigeria. It’s a case of our leaders’ insensitivity to its people, but eye wide attention to the foreign audience. America never intervened and never said anything about it, until people threatened to sell their shares in their oil companies and fuel prices started increasing marginally, knowing that with the impending shutdown of the oil fields, the companies will lose money. Even their government had to reassure the people that they would look into Nigeria’s matter and urged them not to sell their shares (maybe our government could learn something about communication from them). Our government quickly asks for NLC to come and negotiate (I hate that word in this context) so that there could be a resolution earlier than later and the next thing is, CNN put the protest news at the home page of their website. Finally, we got what we needed, the attention.

Do we know the import of these series of events? Definitely or maybe. What the occupy Nigeria movement has been about is not only the fuel subsidy issue, it’s about wastage, corruption and some comical rounds of spending (white dinosaur budget). What do we need to achieve our aim of good governance, get the government to listen to us while we have their attention. Right now, we hold the aces; we have to make demands about what kind of government we want. If Labour should agree a deal with the FEC tomorrow that does not address corruption and wastages, we are back to square one as it were. If the strike goes on by Monday, we have all the right moves in all the right places. What we need is not fuel only subsidy reinstatement, at the very least; we need our refineries working, we need electricity, we need corruption thrown away and past corrupt office holders prosecuted, we want to be able to trust the government again, we need transparency, we want their excessive spending to be slashed and we certainly deserve a better Nigeria.

Airing an unpopular view here, subsidizing isn’t healthy for the economy whatsoever, but before the removal is done if the refineries are fixed and new ones are built. That way, removal of subsidy would make premium sense and the people will enjoy it. But that policy won’t cut it when 80% of the population depend on this particular commodity daily. Knowing that the oil in Nigeria has a shelf life (estimated 5o years), we need to thread on the egg shells carefully. The average man on the street do not want to know economics, he needs fuel. If all necessary things are put in place, I would personally demand we stop importing fuel.

Kathleen Ndongmo shared on twitter that we need to articulate our demands. We really need to do that ( I believe). What I believe is, right now, the government will listen to us because they cannot afford the oil field to be shut down, it doesn’t come back on at the pull of a switch, lots of money would be lost and their credibility would be called into question, but it would be known in this country and beyond that the people cut of its profitability to fight corruption. Our dignity restored.

America do not want their company shares to sink, neither can they afford any increase in the price of gasoline. We do not want our country to drown in corruption; we have a chance to hold out for a greater future provided the oil fields get shut down. I do not in any means want my country to lose money, but if that is the only way to get their attention, then we will maximise it. We now have all the right friends in all the right places.

God Bless Nigeria and God bless our leaders (I really mean that)


Church in 2 Minutes

Of course the preacher was talking about seeking first the Kingdom of God for the New Year, but that was what entered my head at best. What I was seeing was indeed the Kingdom of God. All blue place with golden stands and snow white brightness with Jerusalem bells ringing and angelic voices singing, a place with beautiful compartments and apartments with all the right sizes in all the right spaces; a place with great roads that are curved and straight in the right way with silver lining. The Kingdom of God I was seeing had red earrings on.

Lovely air clear fair skinned flesh between the shoulders and the neck region bounded by an alluring blue native attire, a red beaded necklace and silver coloured head tie, leaving some night dark hair peeking out of the head tie. The head gear looked like a space ship designed by aliens that possessed technologies 2,000 years more advanced than we. I saw sparkles in the sky that was her head gear, could have been real or a figment of my beautiful mind. Now I know where Lagbaja got his inspiration from. Good head on shoulders, i was already drawn into a world compared to heaven already and I was yet to see her face.

The church stoop up for prayers and, the elegant piece of remembrance from God that he still moves in mysterious ways, also stood graciously to reveal what could make the rich richer, and the poor poorer. Beauty, just like freshly brewed beer and purely distilled alcohol. The blue dress hanging on her delicately sharp curves with the inward bending of her body and the outward continuation down the figure. Hell was gone and heaven came. I shouldn’t have seen the hands, really shouldn’t have looked. From the beads, wrist bands to the necklace and earrings, it was like the world we live in was in perfect harmony with every other living thing; the world was smiling back at me through her accessories.

Didn’t move, didn’t turn. I didn’t stare away. It was one of those moments in life where you are ready to go to jail for your faith and catch a grenade. For once, I felt the song by Bruno. I’ll swallow a grenade for this one, implode, belch it out and shout halleluyah. I was tripping for a faceless body at the risk of liking a butterface. What if she looked gorgeous and had a hideous face? I pondered in my head; quite aimlessly too.

Then the inevitable occurred, she turned. My heart skipped a beat, my ease closed ad she greeted the person next to her, her mouth slowed and my mind soared. Fully turned, I was shocked; it wasn’t what I was expecting. I shouted “blood of jisos” in my heart and turned away my gaze. Caught a glimpse and how dare I stare!!! Her face was deeper than a symphony, broader than science and brighter than art. Mother Nature’s work of perfection. A face that defies everything English can use to contain it; all lined with blue eye shadow, thick eye lashes and red lipstick.

Still in awe of the heavenly experience of a celestial body in our terrestrial space, a tap came to my shoulder and met a frown on my face. “It’s time to go home” unawesomely came the words to my ears, like a slave trade language. My vexation level immediately rose. Got home to the inglorious news of grossness on TV; screw that!! She’s awesome! But what a spectacle to see on a new year day.

Keep Quiet and Listen

If only the whole world would keep quiet and think of the consequences of the noise its making, lots of words and less of meanings. Very big tummy, more tumour than pregnancy. The internet made talks even cheaper and it’s getting grossly worse. Anybody with half a brain can voice opinions that belong in the toilet. Things you should say to yourself and pretend you can’t even hear you.

So much loud noises around me, fire crackers, wrong music, hawkers and silencer-deficient cars. If only the world could take a minute and be quiet, be still, think things through before acting through things. We would realise more than we know. If everybody would empty their minds in dead silence, then I can concentrate on things that are pivotal. So much advices and apologies, both always are following each other these days. I hate it when someone with absolutely no idea about what I’m doing trying to launch advices into my head. Keep quiet! Let me think.

Would our leader just shush already? His silence loos so beautiful, it shows how collectively a fail the electorate is. The better half should know better than not to even keep quiet. It gets into my head and it drives me nuts. He had no shoes and now we are about to have no fuel. With the send forth of Santa being ceremonially done with some bomb blasts, we can kiss our security goodbye. Wait, we have none! Maybe if we had been mute we would’ve understood why the old general cried. So sad that the disruptions have gotten so much and we just can’t have some minutes to think. Shut up and read on!

I wish some people’s quietness could measure up to their mental anorexia. Out of the deficiency of their head, their mouth yarns dust. They are always around us, in restaurants, buses, viewing centres, concerts and even parties. The only place to enjoy some quiet seem to be on a bike with a mallam rider, you both really have nothing to discuss. Bliss. Everyone seem to have an opinion, albeit as little are supposed to see the sun, while some outrightly deserve jail terms. The conception, birth and weaning of social media peppered the cauldron and people tweet when they have a slight headache (get well soon, but we don’t wanna know! We don’t give a crap).

Money fades and love consequently fades faster. So much love songs that I think they paint an unrealistic picture. Shush! Maybe if you are quiet, your lovers and haters would differentiate; shout on they integrate. Calculus wasn’t thought because it was fashionable, it had reasons (My legitimate bragging rights here please).

The noises are increasing. Pities, apologies and other sad tales inclusive. As much as i desire to be heard, i prefer to listen and hear. If only the church of God would keep quiet and listen, they would not give wrong worship. If they would mute up, they won’t be quick to judge. If I love Rihanna for anything (apart from her prettiness), it’s for the fact that she did a track titled ‘shut up and drive’. Get off the BBM and yahoo messenger and keep quiet to listen to your inner spirit.

So many interruptions in our daily lives from TV, internet, music, sports, sex, chat, mobile phones and mosquitoes. The art of meditation has been long lost just shy of when morals became a thing of shame. Whatever you do, try to take time to actively shut up and think. Infact, just keep quiet.

Somewhere I Belong

It’s not exactly easy to start writing with some witty funny lines and expect the whole blogosphere to jump to the adulation of the beauty of the painted scenario. The grace for that was dampened and trampled on, in the short term, by our dear Power Withholding Company who decided to live up to their name and calling despite all thoughts and plans to the contrary. Let’s assume I had thoughts and had no plans, which is my fault, but you don’t wanna know how I ironed.

Merry Christmas to all, everybody, all my lovers and my lovers; I worry less about the population at the other end of the food chain. Let me go to where my thought was today; the church.

The church I grew up in as a young lad was rather looking strange in a funny kinda way. I got to the Sunday school class and the usual suspects (or sidekicks) were not there. Slightly depressed, I chose to listen to the message of Christmas before the main church service. By the way, the more the teacher was talking about the ‘virgin Mary’, I couldn’t help but see the look on the faces of the youths there as that title looked more to have gone with the era of baggy jeans and Barry White.

Did I say youths? My word, they were kids and i suddenly noticed that most of my mates were no longer there, probably married or something and some were at the elder section (Don’t dare say your mind there!!!). Kids I knew when they were born or that I ate at their naming ceremony are now yards taller than (already tall) me, made me feel like I’ve been out of a particular party. The kids were grown and I could notice it.

Seeing the new church building all grown up too gave me some gusto, so much enchantment that it transcends diarrhoea induced ecstasy. Saw some people that actually know me and some that don’t. For pete sake! I’ve not been out for that long. Have I?

Someway, somehow, I knew I was back where I was always as a kid growing up in the boring state capital. I know I’ve found somewhere I belong.

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!!