Chelsea rules. Ok?

Time for a change

2011-05-19T09:28:00.002+01:00

After many years of Chelsea rules. Ok? I have decided it is time for a change. Something different. More vibrant. More creative. More stimulating. As regular readers will know I am not one to postulate, make noise, do shakara (why are you shaking head, its true). To this end I have created a new blog that is more in line with my new character. The new me who likes to postulate, make noise and do shakara. Hence why I have called it - In My Humble Opinion. (Why shaking of head again? It is humble. Just because i decide not to keep it to myself or resist shouting from the rooftops does not make it any less humble.Really.

So for the hundreds of thousands of you that have come to visit me here (see humility? I no wan talk the real number of visitors otherwise I go shame some people) please join me on this new journey at www.toksboy-imho.blogspot.com. The newest and bestest blog in the whole universe. In my humble opinion.

Thanks again for your company and comments. Most of you.

New Year resolutions Pt 2.....the saga continues

2011-05-18T13:00:00.002+01:00

Firstly apologies for the interrupted service denying you the chance to share your views and abuse with me. There is no excuse other than that which I mentioned in part 1. Procrastination. However I give you a solemn promise that I will be back in full flow.

First thing tomorrow. See you then. Promise.

My (belated) NewYear's Resolution...one shouldn't rush into these things lightly.

2011-01-02T16:10:00.005Z

Exercise more – I am told that the thing in the corner of my bedroom on which I casually hang my clothes actually serves another function. According to the manual that was recently thrust under my nose, again, if one were to climb on to this contraption, place ones feet on the pedal looking things one would actually burn calories and fat and one would be considered to be doing aerobic exercise. Oh yes, one must not forget to actually push down on the pedal things and pull on the aforementioned coat hangers. One will give this a try. Tomorrow. If any damage was to occur to one please remember to tell the coroner Iyawo made me do it.

Eat healthier – It has been brought to my attention that there are some foods that are naturally green and are good for you. As a typical Yoruba man I am of the opinion that if it is green and comes out of the ground then it needs to be fried in some kind of saturated fat to make it edible. Or even better yet Palm oil. Iyawo, in alliance with that yeye Dr of ours, now informs me that it is possible to eat and digest these substances naturally and wituout support from amala,eba and other nutritious starches. I had always assumed that was the difference between animals, like goats and horses, and humans. It now transpires that I must now share the same dining table or stable with them.

Oh and now they are trying to convince me that plantain is not a vegetable!! Is is not green when it first comes from the market before I lovingly wrap it in that blanket and put it under the sink until I can smell its wonderfully putrid odour signaling that it is now ripe for dropping with care into boiling red oil? The debate over this one is still ongoing and in the meantime I will continue to imbibe freely.

Finally, they casually mention that it is possible to drink water that has not been diluted, coloured, or carbonated in some way. Yes it might be possible but whats the point? Needless to say I have had to succumb to pressure and confirm that I will be taking one glass of this substance, orally, at least once a day if not more. Said dosage not to be preceeded by alcohol, ribena, juices or other sugary liquids of any kind.!!

Relax – It is fair to say that my idea of relaxing is my BB in one hand and ipad in the other whilst watching a film and maybe listening to some music in the background. Besides proving to Iyawo that men can truly multitask I have now been advised by that yeye Dr again that relaxing means letting go of all my gadgets, locking myself in a dark room and taking it EASY. I have promised to look up that term in the dictionary as soon as they give me my ipad back. And the good Dr is prepared to pay off my mortgage and marry off my three daughters. To Northern politicians of course.I am sure that would relax me extremely.

Be happier – I have had to put my foot down on this unless a compromise can be reached on the first three items mentioned above. If one can;t fry ones plantain in palm oil where does happiness come into the picture? In parallel Iyawo has also refused to budge on the Halle Berry issue so this one will be quite a struggle. I mean is it any wonder the poor girl has to throw herself at all these Hollywood losers when Iyawo will not release me from my vows just for one week? Its obvious, to me, what she really needs in her life is an IT consultant. A digital soulmate.

Be more giving – I have thought long and hard about this. Now those that know me will say aha you are already too generous and are already making so many sacrifices but I feel I must do more. After a lot of internet research, of course, to find the right cause and outlet for my gift I have decided to focus on mentoring those girls that apply to Playboy magazine to be playmates of the month, or year, but for some reason never quite make it. Imagine the devastation of being rejected because these are too big or that is too wide, or for the unfortunate tattoo that says Crack bitch or Lammar's Ho on ones inner thigh.

To this end I propose to offer them some comfort and solace and a shoulder to cry on. It is only right and fair to give these needy souls something to hold on to as we enter this new year. Yes it means more sacrifice on my part but surely this is what giving is all about? I have raised this again with Iyawo this year, being the fifth year in a row, and this time I am feeling very optimistic that she will finally say yes. She said earlier today that I would be hearing from her lawyers soon and that there would be fireworks this evening. This time insde the house. Wow. I can't wait.

In the meantime, HAPPY NEW YEAR to you all.

Sun worshipper

2010-12-20T04:11:00.003Z

I awake to find you
Creeping up my toes
Like a lover with desire
I yawn and stretch
And spread myself carelessly
Enjoying your embrace
The morning air, already warm
Fans my face softly and gently
I turn to face you
To give my full attention
I have to cover my eyes
Blinded by your brilliance.

I take a stroll to the water’s edge
Disrobe with a shrug
And slip into the calming waves
They lap at me like last nights dreams
I open my arms wide
I soak in the sensation
Of a million magic fingers
Sparkling with your light
Warmed by your heat
Reaching to my core
I float, float, float away.

I throw myself onto golden sands
Watch water beads evaporate
Steam rising off my skin
As you caress me with your rays
You, and your accomplice, the wind
Playfully soothing me into a gentle daze
Lulling me into a light slumber
I wake to find you disappearing
Over the horizon from whence you came
But I know it will not be long
Before you appear again
Creeping up my toes
Like an old lover
With Desire.

You think you 've had love.......

2010-10-28T18:59:00.005Z

You think you’ve had love
But you ain’t seen nothing yet
I got more love
Than I know what to do with
And all I yearn for
Is to give it to you
My heart’s desire
My secret longing
My hidden passion

You think you’ve had love
But you ain’t seen nothing yet
I got more love
Where that came from
I was raised in love
By love and for love
Soaked in its powers
Dazzled by its beauty
This is what I have t give

You think you’ve had love
But you ain’t seen nothing yet
I got the kind of love
That can make you go crazy
Make you go dizzy
Set you a- floating
Toes all a tingling
Make you go ahhh

You think you've had love
But you aint seen nothing yet
My love will hit you
With the force of a hurricane
Electrify like a lighning strike
Pour down like a thunderstorm
Shake hard like an earthquake
Heat up like the burining sun
I'll be your natural phenomenon

You think you’ve had love
But you ain’t seen nothing yet
I got the kind of love
That goes beyond Christmas
Welcomes in the new year
Slides straight past Easter
Still with you in summer
October, November, December

If you’d just give me a chance?

Independence Day

2010-10-01T08:24:00.002Z

Don't you know they're talking about a celebration now
Sounds like a whisper
Don't you know they're talking about an election now
Sounds like a whisper

While we queue in our petrol lines
In an oil producing country
While we pray for electricity
And clean water just to soothe our brow
While we scramble for the scraps
That fall off the tables of the mighty

Don't you know they say we are 50 years old now
So why are we still crawling?
Don't you know they're talking about an election now
When we already know the winner

While we die on our potholed roads
Or murdered by our so called protectors
While outdated diseases find new lives
And our children lack for education
While our hospitals are bereft of care
And our security is not guaranteed

Don't you know they're talking about a celebration now
Sounds like an obscenity
Don't you know they're talking about an election now
Sounds like profanity

When are the good people going to rise up
And tell the truth
When are the good people going to rise up
And claim what's theirs

What an outrage!!!!!

2010-09-11T12:56:00.003Z

Like all good Muslims everywhere I am outraged by this man. Has he no sense of shame? No sense of decency? No sense of decorum? He has outraged the world. He has caused great consternation globally. The Internet is aflame with discussions and comments. The TV channels cannot get enough. The big question on everyone's mind is - will he or won't he? The whole world waits with baited breath to find out when he will shave off that ridiculous handlebar tache? This is 2010 for goodness sakes.

And as for burning the Koran? This is 2010 for goodness sake.

In defence of the Nigerian Police Force

2010-09-09T08:03:00.002Z

After listening to Iyawo's show this morning I felt it was time for one person to actually stand up and defend the much maligned NPF. Now to some this might be a sacrilege as the current perception of the said Force is of corrupt gun toting buffoons and hooligans. This is based on the fact that they are either putting on a ridiculous comedy act to acquire loose change from travellers at the nationwide "illegal" road blocks or they are resorting to more vigorous means in order to extort said loose change. This can sometime result in the untimely passing of an innocent member of the general public which is totally unacceptable.

However lets put things into perspective. Let's use another example of another group of public enemies - the 419ers, Yahoo Yahoo boys or whatever other name they are called. There is a worldwide perception that "nigerians" are all involved in this trade. Therefore as long as you are a Nigerian you must be involved. In reality I doubt if out of the 140 million Nigerians today that there are up to 50000 Internet fraudsters. This is based on some loose facts. The reason I raise this is that for the same reason we cannot continue to brand the "whole of the NPF" as hooligans. There is perception and then there is reality and sometime the two do converse as seems to be the case here.

True there is a hardcore element that has been allowed to get out of control basically because of weak leadership. Don't believe all that rubbish where the IGP says he has ordered his men to remove the roadblocks even as you are sitting in front of a roadblock. That is mere propoganda. No Policeman wakes up and goes to the station to report in and then disappears for the day with his rifle and four other similarly armed colleagues in a police vehicle without his stations manager's knowledge or approval. And the station manager's approval comes from the area manager who has the regional commander on his neck to provide a bag of N20 notes every day or else.

But even despite this is a clear majority of Policemen that have a pride in their uniform and their duty and go about it quietly and diligently. We never hear of these ones of course just as we never hear about the university students that only use their laptops for research and studies.

I do not hide the fact that I grew up in a Police family and I have seen both sides of the coin but it seems to me that we are getting to a tipping point where all Policemen are getting tarred with one brush. I know how it feels when I go abroad and the minute it is known I am Nigerian I can see the lightbulb flicker and the spotlight of 419 er pointing my way. It is not fair to me and it is not fair to them.

I heard today that there had been another change of command. Good. For me the last IGP was extremely ineffective and did the view of the NPF no great favours by claiming he was not aware that Niyi Rubadu had been into the country for Gani's funeral despite the visit having made both TV and newspaper headlines. Hopefully the new one will instill a sense of pride, discipline and honour that has been slowly ebbing out of the force helped by unscrupulous leaders and politicians.

Long Live the NPF.

On the radio.....

2010-09-04T04:39:00.005Z

Catch me on the radio this Saturday 4th Oct. on the Smooth Book Review Show with Mandy Brown-Ojugbana reviewing two of my fave reads this year - "I do not come to you by chance" and "Harare North". The show is on at 10am on 98.1FM or you can catch it on the internet at http://www.smooth981.fm/ and click on the listen live button.

Let me have your feedback and if you have not read these books then you definitely should.

My father is slowly dying.

2010-07-28T21:17:00.002+01:00

My father is slowly dying

he is shrinking away before my very eyes

every day he disappears a little further

takes up less space in the bed

his movement is now minimal

every breath ragged and painful

blind from diabetes

he lives in a world of darkness

but now he sees things

imagines things

remembers things

decade old memories jumbled

with things that happened yesterday

dead friends remembered

he struggles to finish his sentences

but the humour is still there

the sarcasm remains

amidst his shallow breathing and bed sores

even now he still makes us laugh. Out loud.

My father is slowly dying

he has been my hero all my life

I've spent a lifetime trying to please him

to win his love and affection

now he says he's always loved us

he asks us to stick together

he makes us promise to

look after the grandchildren

and his wife, our mother

he wants me to cut down on my exercising

his memory is obviously gone

I haven't exercised for 20 years

but I tell him no problem

I will start straight away.

My father is slowly dying

we gather round for his final words

he rambles here there and everywhere

words of wisdom mixed with nonsense

prayer mixed with odd unintelligible questions

I feel I'm looking in a mirror

sometime far into the future

we've always been too alike physically

so this is the fate that will befall me

sometime in the years ahead

I better get some joy from living

Squeeze some juices out of life

I try not to think of the near future

when his ragged breaths will cease

my sister has already cried river naija

being the eldest and a man

I have only cried a lake.

My father is slowly dying

his skin is stretched tightly across his bones

so tight it is almost translucent

shiny like it's been polished

I tell him that we love him

I tell him we will miss him

We wont know what to do without him

He has always been there for us

He smiles his secret smile

He has said his goodbyes

He'll be leaving soon

I wish him safe travels

He once told me that death was not an ending

but the beginning of another phase

for as we wave the dead adieu from this earth

so others stand at another shore

welcoming them home.

As you go into the dark night Father

please always remember

we love you now and always

and forever more.

And for those on the other shore

waiting patiently to welcome him

we hand him over grudgingly

please take care of him, this gentleman,

for he was truly gentle, and a man.

(p.s- he can be a bit cranky sometimes

but he means no harm.)

Teacher's Pet.

2010-06-02T15:46:00.002+01:00

From a very early age we all learn that there are some sacred cows (even though we do not know that this is what they are called at that stage). These are the pampered pooches that can do no wrong. In school, they probably had an older sibling who protected them, or their parent or relative was the Head or a teacher, under whose umbrella they were free to commit all sorts of dastardly deeds knowing full well there would be no repercussions.

In later life daddy, mummy or someone of influence at work gave them the leeway they needed to behave like the spoilt brats they are even though occasionally the odd warning look is thrown their way when they really overstep the bounds of decency. But nonetheless the bad habits and behaviour continue because dirty looks are akin to being beaten to death with a feather. Ineffective.

This is the case of the US and Israel – surely the most pampered terrorist nation on earth. How else can you explain the continuous crimes this nation commits and gets away with if not for the fact that they know that they will be fully protected from all sides by Big Brother. We had barely gotten over the blatant assassination of a guest in a hotel room (Hamas, Hummous whatever) using the forged passports of different nations (imagine the disdain for the sovereignty of these countries which included the UK) before we are now confronted with commandos boarding a humanitarian aid ship fully armed and murdering in cold blood between 10-19 human beings.

Notice how quickly the propaganda machine swung into action with videos showing “soldier being thrown overboard” or “soldier being beaten by metal pipes”. Sob, sob. I notice there was no caption of the soldier pointing his gun at protesters at head level and firing (something wrong with their kneecaps? If all you really wanted to do was subdue them?). As of now there is no report of a single Israeli commando being killed despite the claims that the “terrorists” on board (who are quickly and conveniently linked to every Islamic terror organisation) had guns, knives and other weapons (at least they were considerate enough not to tag the “of mass destruction” on to the end of it). There was even a picture of a soldier holding up a knife to the camera. Even back in my boy scout days we instinctively knew that when confronted with a machine gun toting commando who drops out of the sky in the dead of night, a Swiss army knife is as useful as a condom at a convent. No really, we did.

So now what from Israel? The usual platitudes and excuses. “We must protect our citizens, we must protect Israel, we are the most put upon nation on earth –even with our nuclear weapons, trained army, MOSSAD. Oh woe is us etc etc. We are so generous in that we allow tons of food to be delivered to Gaza every month so those pesky children don't die etc etc.” How much longer can this go on? Can Obama really allow it to go on? Can Europe? Can China?

Who wants to bet me that at then end of it all by next month it will all have blown over and teacher’s pet will be back under teacher’s bosom. Safe and sound. Until the next time.

I don't need nothing for my troubles now.

2010-05-10T16:14:00.003+01:00

I don’t need nothing for my troubles now
Please tell my wife and her cabal
That only the Almighty Allah can decide
And now he’s come to claim my soul
Ask her for how much she sold my pride
My dignity and life besides

I don’t need nothing for my troubles now
I’ve laid my weary head to rest
The lies, the pain, the grand façade
Please ask my wife if she did her best
To ease my pain and sooth my brow
Sneaking me back in the dead of night

As if I was a thief or louse
When it was best to let me be

I don’t need nothing for my troubles now
I hope you remember me for what I was
Before they turned me into a thing
Please don’t forgot for all I stood
Before I became a running joke
What I endured no one shall know

But now alas the end has come

I don’t need nothing for my troubles now
For in my lifetime I gave my all
To serve my home and motherland
To lead with quiet dignity and grace
But alas it was not meant to be
From ash we come and so return
I pray for Allah to rest my soul

I don’t need nothing for my troubles now
To those who rejoice at my demise
Tell them this fate befalls all men
There is still time to change their ways
To tell the truth, to face the facts
To all my children I bid farewell

My time has come and I go in peace
I did my best with what I had

I don’t need nothing for my troubles now
I don’t need nothing for my troubles now.

The Power of Electricity and the Electricity of Power.

2010-03-21T08:46:00.004Z

The Power of Electricity.

Oh how sweet it is. Oh what wonderful feeling. Oh what a wonderful day. I am filled with good spirits. I woke up this morning and stretched and yawned like the cat that got the full fat cream with sugar on top. What has led to this state of delirium. A very simple thing. But profound no less. We have had electricity almost constantly for the past two days. You might say to yourself "and so?". Well considering that in the past year we have been mostly reliant on generators and you can understand my sense of euphoria. Oh yes we have had occasional glimpses of that thing called light. But that has always been a tease. Never full current but that bastard child called low current that destroys your electrical items, barely illuminates a light bulb far less carry fans or air conditioners and also tends to set your house on fire (which is what happened to us).

But for some perverse reason we have been blessed for the last two days with "light". Let's not go overboard here. It is not the full current one would expect in a civilised country but hey, here it is Sunday morning and I can actually make toast for my breakfast. Off the National grid. NEPA. PHCN. Whatever.

Oh I am giddy with joy at this simple thing that in other places are taken for granted. I feel strangely normal. I want to wear some new clothes knowing I wont have sweated through them by the time I stepped out of the bedroom. I can connect to the internet without having to pollute the environment to do so. I can have a shower without silently poisoning my neighbours. I can send to the village for another wife (pending the consent of Iyawo although terms and conditions will apply) on the basis that she can move into a house with almost full current. Tell her people she will never suffer in darkness. Oh I am giddy with excitement. The possibilities. Maybe I will open a manufacturing plant in the backyard. Not sure what we will produce but what does it matter with all this electricity flowing through the house. Oh this Nigeria is a funny country. You sack the Minister for Power and the power supply improves.

The Electricity of Power.

All over the land in direct contrast to my giddiness there will be people who will feel like someone has switched off the lights. They who once were so illuminated and incandescent will now be standing in somewhat duller environments. These people are the recently sacked Ministers who will find that all of a sudden they are also running on half current. Not fully abandoned by friends and acquaintances, in the event that there is a recall on the cards, but certainly not awash with current. This is the way of the world.

From the minute the sackings were announced the crowds will have diminished, the noise abated, the convoy disappears, phones becomes silent, they become (almost) human again. Now they will find out their real worth. For some of them there will be no way back (thank goodness and good riddance). For some it will be like all their "intelligence" had disappeared as where once all they had to do was open their mouth to hold their audience in thrall they will now find out that when they speak now it is like they have gum disease. So it is with the electricity of power. Enjoy it while it lasts. Once it is switched off it's good night and beddy byes.

Looking for clues..

2010-03-05T14:44:00.005Z

I was very touched last week by the story of the lady that was killed by the whale at Disneyland in Florida. I pondered on this tragedy for quite some time and wondered what could have been done to prevent it. I tried to look for some clues that would have given a hint as to the potential for this sort of tragedy. After much consideration I decided that I would have to put it down to the language we use and the way we use it to describe things.

So for example I tend to avoid vicious dogs. See how the language comes in handy there. Look at it again. Vicious dogs. Let's take another example - Serial killer. Another one to avoid at all costs. It's all there in the name. Oh how our forebears through the generations were so perceptive and accurate with these things. Ok another one. Extreme sports. See for me sport does not need to be extreme. I am more than happy with normal sports - like watching TV. If I want to be extreme about it then I get up to change the channels rather than using the remote -either the one with batteries or the ones that eat my food otherwise known as children.

So back to this poor lady and the killer whale. Spot the clues in that one. You spotted it straight away right? If you were meant to play and fondle the thing surely our forebears the Romans would have named it something like playful whale or tickle my tummy whale or such like. But killer whale? Which means they must have spotted something right? Maybe the first guy didn't but by the time the thing has eaten ten or twenty Romans someone would have stood up in the parliament and said something along the lines of "£$% this. I cannot take it anymore more. From this day forward that beast will no longer be referred to as Tinkerbell. I decree that henceforth it be referred to as a killer whale". Someone never told them at Disneyland.

Which brings me nicely to our Minister for Information who proudly and loudly announced last week that on a matter of national and even international importance - the status of the Yard man- she has no information. Nothing. Nada. So again I went back to the drawing board and banged my head on it. I took a long hard look at her title and pondered how it must feel to be a MOI without I. Is this the sort of thing you stand up in public to announce? Surely that would be reason enough to resign? Throw in the towel? How can you continue? Why not just keep quiet? Keep the lack of information to yourself? Unless you were grandstanding of course. Playing to the gallery. Sending the market women into raptures with your high moral standards and your superior intellect. Over and above the other members of the Cabinet. Meanwhile there are rumours of a major reshuffle in the Cabinet by the Acting President.

Anyone spot the clues there?

Oh ye of little faith......

2010-02-25T09:25:00.004Z

Oh you cynical blog readers. Coming here for your daily dose of cynicism and sarcasm in equal measures. Something I like to call cynisarcism as is the wont these days of using as few words as possible by joining two or even three words together. After all how else are we going to save the planet if we cannot even save on the amount of words we use?

Anyway, Yardy drops out of the sky into the arms of the Nigerian army and a specially fitted ambulance and is shipped off to Aso Rock to take his rightful place. In the specially built ICU. Meanwhile, you will recall that at exactly the same time as he was leaving Saudi a delegation of erstwhile Ministers were on their way to check on his progress, say hey to the King and do some shopping. All facilitated by the Nigerian Ambassador. So its obvious that nobody is actually being kept in the loop on this. Even Goodluck was in the dark apparently (well after all Yardy did land at 2.30am and I would expect JG to have been tucked up in bed with his Winnie the Pooh bear and the formidable Mrs JG).

Now this is the master stroke and for you aspiring politicos this is where you need to get your notebook out. Mrs Yard then issues a statement (let's not even fool ourselves that Mr Yard would have had enough breath to dictate that long thing) thanking all and sundry and making special mention especially of all those who had stabbed her/him in the back. For example - the Governors. Now let's imagine how many Governors slept peacefully in their girlfriends bed's overnight after that statement. Not many I would imagine. It was a declaration of war. Pure and simple. This Turai should be sent to the US to help Obama sort out those minor skirmishes in Iraq, Iran,Israel, Afghanistan etc. The woman is something else. I've heard of stand by your man but this is a whole new level. Stand for your man.

So we all wait with bated breath for the next chapter. Does JG cave in at the first opportunity and hand back the baton? Do the Governor's do a quick u -turn and say they were quoted out of context? Does Dora suddenly reveal that the memo was forged and somebody else had signed in her name? Does the AG fly back in from the Carnival in Brazil with a couple of beauties on his arm challenging his demotion? Oh the intrigue of it all!!

Meanwhile, back at the ICU our man lies quietly, oblivious to all the Africa Magic going on around him with a serene smile on his face and a slight dribble from his lips. Every once in a while he is heard to murmur "OBJ walahi". So now that he's back Turai's next move will be to gather all the Alfas together to create a powerful prayer to help bring her man back into a sitting position (at the FEC for example). If the Alfas fail then Chris Okotie, Benny Hinn and other such miracle workers are already setup on speed dial.

Oh ye of little faith. Believe o. This is Nigeria. Anything can happen.

The road to nowhere…….Desert Storm Pt2.

2010-02-23T15:36:00.001Z

My morning routine is very simple. Wake up. Do abolutions. Pray. Kids off to school. Watch Sky News. Settle down to work. I find this the easiest way to fend off insanity in Nigeria. Luckily I mostly work from home so I do not have to face any of the madness outside the gates…..traffic, noise pollution, aggression, fighting, death etc. No. At home I am sheltered in cosy comfort from the “Real World Lagos” – that never ending reality series – although one must not forget the lunatics called house help who do their best to bring the outside world in.

Typical exchange:
Guard – Oga diesel has finished
Me- finished finished or just finished?
Mallam – finished finish
Me- why didn’t you tell me it was finishing
Mallam- because I was waiting for it to finish and now it has finished finish. Walahi.

The other thing I also manage to avoid by hiding away at home is the newspapers and their various headlines. Unfortunately today I had an appointment which meant going out. Oh the gnashing of teeth, the sweaty palms, choking back of tears (and this was just my driver as I had decided to take the wheel. These incidents never end in a good way but a post on that later). After spending over 30minutes sitting very still on Admiralty Way (the traffic was so bad that people were actually coming out of their cars and sitting on the bonnet – as I understand often happens on the mainland and other deprived areas….. just a joke now. Cool down.)

And so it was that I had the misfortune to be trapped with nothing to do and hence fall easy prey to the newspaper boys. The headline in one read Ambassador : Doctors barring people from seeing Yar Adua. Ministerial team finally departs. Now see what is happening here. Read it again. To translate for you basically what this paper and several others are saying is that another team of Ministers will be spending your hard earned (cough) tax money to travel to Saudi Arabia not to see the ailing Presido - The Yard himself. As in no chance in Turai that they will get within a mile of the man. Not one jot. No way. No how. On this basis some smarter people than me, that can speak Latin and such, would say that this was therefore a travel in futility. Ipso Facto (that’s all the Latin I know) a waste of time and money. A road to nowhere. A journey into the known.

But you smarty pants are not as smart as these Ministers because it turns out that their tax payer funded shopping trip is not actually for the purpose of seeing Yardy at all. No, it is to go and say thank you to the King of Saudi for looking after him so well (I am therefore assuming the Saudis will be writing off the multi million dollar tab for his long stay hence the need for gratitude?) since his unfortunate illness. So there. Oh you people and your negative thinking. Get over yourselves. As if we did not know that we couldn't see Yardy. Of course we know that. We are going to see the King. Soon and very soon. Far be it for me to mention that we could have probably built a world class modern hospital with the amount of money spent shuttling back and forth to see a ghost.

How long this farce will continue God only knows. I mean this is not the first or second set of appointed delegates to make the journey out into the Saudi desert and come back with nothing but gold trinkets, lace and other banned goods. I suspect though that this is just the beginning. I envisage a day when all Nigerian citizens will be required to go out to Saudi Arabia to see for themselves (after all the Ministers and other despots obviously) the way things are going. We might even have to break into the hospital, force our way in past security, protocol and the most sophisticated defense mechanism we have ever seen –Turai the Tiger. It will be a case of Desert Storm 2. After all if Yardy won’t come to AIT then…….

HiTech. Low value. SOS

2010-02-19T17:40:00.003Z

So I live in Lekki. And to some the very word conjures up pictures of massive villas with swimming pools and tennis courts. These people have obviously never been there. Yes there might be a few such carbuncles but mostly it is full of middle class people trying to earn a daily crust. I can't say an "honest" daily crust of course because this is Nigeria and some people might be offended to be addressed in such a manner. But we are all trying to earn our daily crust.

Unfortunately in Nigeria no matter how much you try to earn your daily crust with as much dignity and honour as possible invariably some fools will step in and ruin it for you - be it PHCN, Tax collectors, Water company, Resident's association etc. When all you want is to wake up in the morning, go to work, do a good day's job (ok, ok - just go to work) and then come home and rest your weary head on your beloved's bosom (assuming your wife is not around) (it's just a joke..Please!!!) invariably you will be frustrated (no pun intended) in this simple routine of daily life.

For the past two and a half years the thorn in our well padded side has been a company called HiTech. It is funny how these companies always pick names that are a total opposite of what they really are. So anyway HiTech has been charged to build a road from law school in VI to somewhere way out into places that have no interest for me - that is beyond VGC. In corporate lingo they have won the bid for the concession to build the Lekki-Epe expressway. Whatever.

What interests me however is the bit of road between Lekki Phase 1 and ExxonMobil. (Yes I am Nigerian and yes I am selfish and parochial. And so?) A stretch of say one mile. Pardon me if I am wrong but geography was never my strong suit. All that stuff about north,south, east and west when really all you need to know is - is it close to Tantaliser? Which side is Zenith bank? Is there one yellow woman like this selling recharge cards on the corner? Based on these non scientific identifiers I have managed to survive to a rope old age but I digress.

Now having moved back to Nigeria two years ago I had thought that by now this small stretch of roadworks would be complete by now bearing in mind that they had started even before I moved back, but no, the torture continues. So daily life for us lucky ones in Lekki Phase 1 is like this. Wake up really early, sit in traffic for about one hour just to join the traffic on the main Lekki Expressway. Sit in Lekki Expressway traffic for another hour by this time irritable, irrational and prone to occasional bouts of fisticuffs and gesticulations to all and sundry. Arrive at destination emotionally ragged and raining curses on all those involved in building this god forsaken road. The trip I describe above is just the one my girls go through every morning to get to school. A fifteen minute drive turns into a two hour ordeal. They have a friend who lives in somewhere called Ajah who has to leave home at 530am to get to school. Then repeat the whole thing in the evening. This has been going on for TWO YEARS. Haba wetin?

So can someone explain to me the objective of this badly managed fiasco? Where is the Project plan? Who is the Project Manager? Every time the road is covered in tarmac and we take a deep breath we are invariably met a month later by tractors digging up the very same stretch again. Almost like someone wakes up one morning and says - guys, you know I think we forgot to put in the drains? Or guys remember all those black cables we dug up last month apparently they are for telecoms services and no one in Lekki has been able to make a call since. We better dig up the road and bury it back pronto. Or L arry did you ever find that Timex watch you lost? I have a funny feeling it is buried under the road. Let's have a looksie shall we?

To make things even worse the company then takes out an ad in the paper a couple of days ago putting the blame for the fiasco on everyone else but themselves. They blame Lagos State, the Police, LASTMA and everyone else for failing to hold up their end of the bargain. I may not be good at Geography but I do recall a saying I learned back at school that says only a crap tradesman blames his tools. O.r others. For a crap job

The heartache caused by this fiasco on a daily basis is almost too much to bear. Forget about making plans. For where? Fixed time appointments. No way. "Rushing out" to get something. Dream on. The worst part is that the fear of getting stuck in the traffic is so high now that we just prefer to stay at home. Which leaves us at the mercy of PHCN, the Water company, the tax collector and every other crackpot and shaman peddling their wares.

So welcome to the HiLife. HiTech? Indeed.

DORA THE EXPLORER.

2010-02-18T14:05:00.004Z

Above are two pictures. One is of a cartoon character with wild eyes, a crazed look, penchant for lecturing and a fervent zeal to educate the masses. The other is of course Dora the Explorer – a popular TV show for children.

I have been amazed over the past few weeks about the number of articles (planted??) in newspapers and magazines praising our erstwhile Minister for (Dis) (Un) (No) (Wrong) – take your pick – Information with regards the memo she wrote asking for support to oust Yardy and get Goodluck enshrined.

Apparently after a whole two months and more she woke up one morning with her conscience pricking her to make a stand. Hence her “inspired” memo. She has been called a voice a reason, a true citizen, an ambassador for truth and other such rubbish that we Nigerians are prone to throw at any elected person who actually does anything remotely connected to their job.

Well here is my view. I reckon that Aunty D. got inside info that Yardy would not be returning in exactly the same format in which he had left the country. He left the country in VHS format and will be returning in Beta. i.e. old, outdated, gone. Being Minister of Info I suspect she was actually given this info or tipped off in one way or another. This I feel was the fuel that ignited her conscience and fired her up to her act of unrivalled bravery.

For me the day she delivered the memo was the day I knew that Yardy was a goner from this mortal coil because you see there is no way Aunty D. would have dared step out of line if there was a chance in Sokoto that Yardy would return. Remember she has been on every single leaked list of Ministers for the chop whilst he was still of full cranial functions. So getting the news that he had ceased to be so Presidential in demeanour she quickly hatched her plan to get into Uncle Goodluck’s good books. She is obviously more than a pretty face our Aunty D.

My mole tells me that not long too long after the memo Aunty paid one of those courtesy visits, so beloved of the favour seeking, to Uncle G to commiserate with him on his time in limbo and to assure him that all would be well and the of course she would be standing shoulder to shoulder with him through thick and thin (and his first cabinet reshuffle) once he got himself in the driver’s seat. She also offered to make him a special stew from her part of the country. I understand he politely declined both offers. He has already won me over.

To top it all off she then had to deal with a jolt from the king of darkness himself - our former Attorney General who seemed to imply that all had not been tickidy boo at NAFDAC whist she was in charge. Ouch that must have hurt. To have someone with whom snakes and other belly crawling reptiles are loathe to be compared to cast aspersions on your name and character?

Well how low can you go? This game of politics is definitely not for toddlers. Is it Aunty?

Happy New Year.

2010-02-12T10:16:00.002Z

Yes you read right. Happy new year. What's the problem? So it is February. And so? What's your own? Are the Chinese not doing new year next week? So it's only Yardy that can "be away" for 80 days? Ah beg Happy New Year jo. From today. It's official. Go and check it. Not just in any almanac. Go and check the procrastinator's handbook for successful living. First Edition. (Second Edition has been delayed for some time). It is right there. Happy new year can be any day you want. Just not today. Tomorrow. Seriously. Go and check it. Obviously not straight away. Tomorrow or possibly the day after. What's the rush? Don't stress yourself.

So five months just passed like that and I was sitting there thinking " I really must update my blog". This country is leaderless. They need someone to guide this great ship away from the rocks of Akinyuli. Toks you must rise to the occassion. Anyday now. Aaaany minute. You really must. No. You must get to it straight away. Now, now. Immediately. Definitely. With urgency. Ok tomorrow then. Latest. Walahi.

So you see? And here I am. I did it. Happy New Year.

The good Lord helps those who........

2009-10-27T08:42:00.002Z

Arrived at MMIA last week with a friend from the UK. He was met in the arrivals hall by a protocol officer to help smooth his way through. As we were waiting for our luggage the chap asked him how many bags he had. "Four", he replied, "will this be a problem with the Customs people?". Without missing a beat the chap said "no, we will just tell them that you are a pastor returning from a crusade". Huh?

Sure enough after collecting the bags they made their way to the exit door where they were met by a stern looking Custom's official. He put his hand on the trolley and told them they had to step to one side for inspection. The protocol office then said to him "Oga, this man is a pastor with the Redeemed Church and he is just returning from a crusade abroad" all the while flashing my friend's Nigerian passport in the man's face. The Customs officer then took one look at my friend and waved them through.

Outside they burst out laughing. Why? Well if he had checked the Custom's man would have seen that my friend's name was Abdul Hammed XXXXXXX. Surely even in Nigeria this would have roused some suspicions? Or maybe not? Is there some law that I have missed that says members of the clergy (regardless of their faith) are immune from Customs checks? What if the bags were filled with guns, drugs, body parts? Na wa o.

The Enemy Within .....Epilogue

2009-10-18T12:45:00.002Z

The matter is sorted. Things have been "settled". We hold our breaths that there is no further comeback.

Yesterday my sister reeceives the following text from one of the settled - "Hi Madam, hw is family n work? Suppose wonderful. I want 2 say AM impressed d way u handled that ordeal with maturity n with high sense of understanding. I say well done. Keep it up. If we r having your kinds I don't dere (sic) will be problem in this country. Well done I do appreciate u. Do have a wonderful day." I am assuming that by "your kinds" he means the kind that come come up with half a year's salary at a moment's notice.

We learn that since the superiors have been settled it is now time for them to take action. The original instigator is to investigated about his role in our "ordeal". I assume there will be further "settlement" involved before the matter is fully em...settled. We also learn that the wound to his head was sewn up without benefit of any pain killer or anesthetic. It is hard to feel pity but how can you be human and not?

The mallam meanwhile is now doubly cautious before opening our gate. A lesson we have been trying to teach him for years. Life.

The Enemy within...

2009-10-15T18:25:00.003Z

My mum's driver was turning into the house a few days ago. Apparently he has his earpiece in for his phone and might have been on a call. As he was turning in a chap on a motorbike started banging on the side of the car asking "did you not see me?". The driver said "who are you?" and drove into the compound after the mallam had opened the gate assuming that this was another one of those 30 second Lagos dramas.

The mallam closed the gate and was in the process of locking it when there was a loud banging on the gate. He opened to to say "aha what is going on?" only to be met by a slap to the face and several blows followed. In defence he swung still with the padlock for the gate in his hand and hit the slapper on the head. The padlock made contact and drew blood. At no point as far as I am aware were they aware that the slapper was an Army officer.

Roll film forward ten to fifteen minutes and our compound is full of army men physically assaulting the mallam. Numerous attempts by family members to save him are rebuffed. The driver has to make a run for it in order to avoid the same treatment. The mallam is seriously assaulted and dragged off in an army vehicle. All hell breaks loose as my family desperately spend the rest of the day trying to find him. He is later located at a Barracks close to Yaba where he is found with his hands tied and and hanging from the ceiling.

The soldiers who have been recruited to escort my sister to the barracks (no policeman is prepared to take the risk) are given a dressing down and told never to show their faces there again with regards this matter. My family members are told it is too late to discuss the matter as the person in charge has gone for the evening and they are told to return in the morning.

This morning my sister decides to go to the family house early to make sure that our poor mother (father has travelled , thank God) has not faced any further harassment. There had been murmurings from the soldiers of coming back to burn the house down and to find the driver by all means. She is met by a group of Military Police who say they have come to arrest the mallam's employer. She is asked to step into a black maria type vehicle which she refuses as she is not a criminal and declares that she will travel in her own car to the barracks.

At the barracks she is asked to write a statement after which she is asked to pay N60k for the offense. She does not have that kind of money on her in cash and she is asked to bring it tomorrow. On the way out she is accosted by one of the officers "dealing" with the case and told that they would prefer a top of the range mobile phone rather than the money. She says she would rather pay the cash rather than try and choose a "top of the range" phone from the numerous models in the market.

The mallam is released and is sent home with my sister after she signs an undertaking.She is left in no doubt as to what could happen if she does not show up tomorrow morning with the money sharpish. I ask her if the mallam is seriously injured from the assault. She says that one of the Army men told her that we would not find any bruises on his body because they have been trained in a way that they can torture and cause internal damage without leaving any obvious signs. The mallam is on his way to hospital for a check up.

Ths has caused no end of suffering and anguish and distress to my mother. She is over 70 years old and would not hurt a fly. The past three days have taken months if not years off her life. All for a simple driving incident in which no one was hurt or property damaged.

This is not fiction. This is real. This is Lagos, Nigeria. October 15th 2009. 49 years after our independence. 49 years since we have been "free". Good people. Great nation. Indeed.

And justice for all?

2009-09-16T19:30:00.004Z

Is it really possible to get any sense of justice from these two? Who is the Attorney General there to protect? Who is the EFCC Chairman there to protect? Is there a citizen of Nigeria who really believes they are on his\her side despite their public posturings? Who believes that any of the sacked managers of the failed banks or their accomplices will ever see the inside of a cell again? Who believes that all the debtors were actually listed? Or that Ibori will be convicted of anything in our lifetime despite all the supporting evidence? Yes. Me neither. Which is a shame. Especially under a President who spouts rule of law as a mantra.

The things I take for granted......but shouldn't

2009-09-14T22:25:00.003Z

Waking up in the morning
Having food on the table
A roof over my head
A family that loves me
Parents that love me
Parents that are still alive and well
Healthy kids
My health
Access to money
A supportive loving wife
A forgiving God
My many many blessings
My life
My siblings love
My family's understanding
My accomplishments
My friends
The list goes on.

Shame these things are only brought to the forefront of our thoughts only when we think about losing them as I thought today after a health scare. All is well Insha Allah but I will be more careful with all the above in future. So should you.

Charles.......

2009-09-10T17:37:00.003Z

So I was standing in the car park outside an office complex in Accra a couple of days ago when I heard someone call my name. I turned to see a familiar face walking towards me. The digital photo library inside my head started shuffling through desperately looking for a match to the face even as the distance between us narrowed and I tried to retain a neutral but still welcoming look on my face.

"Long time no see" he said which helped as I immediately jettisoned all the faces from the last five years off the index and dug further back in time. It took two or three minutes for the penny to drop and I finally placed Charles as a chap I had worked with briefly 20 years ago. 20 years. Now that is what you call long time!!

So Charles. Once I had placed him, all the memories came flooding back. We had worked together for about three months but in those three I had got to know him well. Whist Ghanaians are generally humble compared to Nigerians (but then who isn't?) Charles had set for me new benchmarks in humility. He was one of those guys that really did tiptoe lightly through the tulips. I never saw him stressed, swear, or even shout. You hear people say "he wouldn't hurt a fly" and this was definitely apt for Charles.

We exchanged some quick pleasantries and contact details as he was dashing off and promised to catch up next time I was in Accra. In my taxi minutes later I got a call from a strange number. I answered it and it was Charles. "Toks, so sorry I was wondering if you needed a ride?. I know you are visiting Accra and it was rude of me to have left you there in the car park." I told him I was alright and that I already had a hire car.

The point of this is that despite what we see on Sky, CNN,Fox etc there are still some decent people in the world. People for whom doing good and being good is a big part of their DNA. For some strange reason Charles' actions immediately made me want to perform a random act of kindness for someone else (so I took myself out for an extensive meal. Aha am I not someone?). Between him and Gani it has surely been a great week for good people. It is nice to know they exist. It reminds me of the closing words from Desiderata. It is still a beautiful world. Strive to be happy.

It is important to remember that in these days of banking crises and other nonsense.

Good person. Great Loss.

2009-09-08T18:05:00.003Z

Gani Fawenhimi was on my mind sometime last year. I just could not shake his image out of my mind. I kept wondering how is it that one can dedicate their life to a cause where there does not seem much return. I mean can you imagine giving your heart and soul to trying to save Nigeria? I was puzzled. Did the man have a complex? Was he insane? How can you outmanoeuvre the so called “Maradonas” that dominate our every breath (I prefer to call them Muppets but to each his own). Could he really make any sort of dent, any impact at all on the rock of Aso?

To be honest, he did and still does make me feel worthless as I sit on the world wide wonder pontificating about this and that and that and this. Not for me the cold cells of kirikiri. No, coward that I am I prefer to “fight the power” from the calm, cool confines of Lekki.

I recall my mother cursing NEPA\PHCN not long ago and I wondered if this was our destiny. Despite all the vigour of the fight the bastards still had\have the upper hand. A whole generation passes away and nothing changes. I write this only through the benefit of a diesel burning, environment polluting, generator. What hope is there for my generation? We who made such loud revolutionary noises in university but who have greedily succumbed to the status quo – Chief, Senator, Minister, MD. We who have mortgaged our principles for the latest beemer, merc, hummer. It is these thoughts that always takes me back to thinking about Mr Fawenhimi.

If a man gives most of his adult life to fighting for the right of the common man up until his very last breath surely this is a life worth celebrating. And emulating. Maybe one day I too will find a cause that gives this life meaning. Till then. Mr Fawenhimi. I never met you but I salute you sir. Good Person. Great Loss. May your soul rest in peace. The bastards may have won the battle but they will not win the war.

Welcome to civilisation?

2009-08-13T14:14:00.003+01:00

Since arriving in the Uk on Monday night here are some of the headlines:

1. Man dies of gunshot wounds sustained on bus

2. Names of three people who tortured 17month old to death released

3. Biggest armed robbery jewelry heist in Uk history on New Bond St

4. Man kicked to death just yards from his home

5. Lady who disappeared some months ago could have been "involved" with as many as forty men

6.Drunk lady convicted for killing her equally drunk husband by driving over him

7. Baby's body found in car boot

8. A whole 40 tonne ship (trust me that's big) has disappeared feared captured by pirates

These are just some of the ones I can recall off the top of my head. Oh how I long to be back in the relative safety and (in)sanity of Lagos where one might occasionally be accosted by a tout with those immortal words "bros how far? something for the boys?".

Can't happen here???

2009-08-01T05:09:00.002+01:00

Always being right is a burden. It is one I carry wearily on my shoulders. O how Iyawo has suffered with her numerous attempts over the years to prove me wrong. An exercise in futility if ever there was one. The facts are the facts. I am always right. It is one of my traits. Like humility. Another one of my traits.

So to what does all this relate? Oh how I rolled with glee when reading Next newspaper a couple of weeks ago and the article about housing only designated for expatriates. See I have a bee in my bonnet at the moment. Actually I have had it for about a year. I have this feeling that Nigeria is steadily being colonised. By the Chinese, the Indians, the Lebanese. My friends scoff at my paranoia. They smirk at my naivety.

I tell them that I read a book called “Africa my black arse” in which the author described his travels through Africa. In Liberia he came across a Chinese hotel built exclusively for the use of the Chinese. No Liberians, or other Africans, were allowed entry. The irony being that the doormen and most of the other staff were Liberians!!

Every time I tell this story my friends say “aha Toks but that is Liberia. They are not as advanced as Nigeria. That kind of thing can never happen here in Nigeria”. When I pointed out Jeremy’s blog last year wherein he wrote about Abuja apartments only for rent to expatriates it became aha Toks it can neva happen in Lagos. Eko o ni baje (Lagos will not spoil). And now it has. What next? Aha Toks it can never happen in Lekki, Ikoyi, Yaba, Suru – Lere?” And then finally what? “Aha Toks it can neva happen on my street?” I beg please my friends it is happening here and now.

Look around you – generators you buy from Indians, food from Lebanese, groceries from South Africans ( we recently bought an iron from Shoprite that came with a South Africa plug. A “nice” request to “Customer Services” to change it was met with some difficulty until I switched into loud, noisy and aggressive Toks mode (not a pleasant sight to behold I can tell you), everything else the Chinese have sewn up (pardon the pun).

So what next for our “Good people, Great nation”? Well the way things are going maybe we will end up having to apply to a foreign embassy to get a visa to get into Nigeria. Far fetched and fantastical you might say? Well, ask the Liberians.

Five in one and one in five......

2009-06-28T20:26:00.005+01:00

No one gets out alive. - Jim Morrison & The Doors

The flight to London was relatively smooth and we were not even welcomed by the usual unsmiling Immigration officers and their fake-passport sniffing dogs. (Oh please you amateurs. If you really want to make me feel unwelcome you have a lot to learn. Just pop over the pond and you will see what it takes to really make one feel unwelcome and unwanted).

The hotel in the Bans is cheap but is close to our previous home and offers the girls the chance to see their old school friends. Having gathered them up without much ceremony and shipped them off to Naija my paternal guilt always makes me sacrifice comfort for their pleasure. As I sit typing I am using one hand to type whilst the other is busy alternating between swatting those small vicious bugs that accompany greenery and scratching the bumps on my body where they have already succeeded in leaving their mark. You see the hotel is bereft of AC so we have had to resort to open windows and table fans. Did I mention parental sacrifice?

Slaving away on the laptop really late on Thurday night (hint to employers) with Sky News on in the background I see their Breaking News banner come up and look over to see the headline that Micheal Jackson is dead. For some reason which has not fully hit me yet I am neither surprised nor disturbed. Just numb. My only emotion I would hazard to say was disappointment that he had allowed this to happen to him. Like a lot of people of a certain age I was brought up on MJ. We grew up together though he was older than me. Who in my group growing up experience did not want to be him at some stage in our lives? The jerry curls, the white suit, the dance moves (which unfortunately for Iyawo are still the only ones in my repertoire till today), the glove etc etc. Micheal, Micheal how could you let this happen to you? How could you do this to yourself?Cardiac arrest eh? Is that not what killed Elvis? Oh and yes a bucketful of drugs. Do we never learn? Madonna can't stop crying apparently. Yeah right. This is what it boils down to? Almost 45 years of greatness and Madonna can't stop crying?

The hotel informs us that there is a festival in town this weekend and as such they are fully booked and as such we must hit the road. After much internetting and phoning there is no local alternative to be found so we decide to make the most of it and hit Central London. This is how we find ourselves at the Hilton Park Lane. My memories of this hotel based on previous stays is of Nigerians in the lobby and elevators making the sort of noise only Nigerians can.

We duly arrive at the hotel to be met by Nigerians in the lobby making the sort of noises only Nigerians can. That is the good thing about Nigerians. They never disappoint. Except when they do.

Check in is a smooth process and we are soon whisked up to our floor by the most complicated elevator system known to mankind. You have to enter your floor number even before you get in and the computer then assigns you an elevator. Once you are in you cannot change or select a different floor!! Scary really. The view over London is scarier. (As is the news from my daughter that you have to dial 419 to reach reception. 419?? really?? These people really know how to make us feel welcome!!)

A clear blue sky beckons from the other side of the window and we can see it all, Big Ben, Centre Point, the Gherkin, the Eye etc etc. Height always brings a beauty to a city you cannot get at ground level. Check out Lagos from the top floor of the Eko Hotel and you will be gobsmacked. But we are not here to see the sights only. Teenage girls can do sight seeing for only so long before another urge beckons. Shopping.

I suggest we hit Oxford street on which I will allow them very limited access to my billions. They both give me a look. I'm used to it now. They then inform me that Oxford St on a Saturday is not a good idea. I say haba can it be any worse than Shoprite after the churches let out on Sunday? Trust me it is. Peeking inside Primark (a Mecca for teenage girls) we notice that there are more battles going on in there than Afghanistan. Being that shopping in an empty store is torture enough for me, not to talk about a store filled with half the tourists to London we beat a hasty retreat to Selfridges for lunch to calm our nerves and devise a strategy. It is agreed that the best approach for them (minus dad but with his hard earned moolah) is to be outside the store first thing in the morning when it opens.

So it is that at 11.30 this morning we all arrived (my plan to relax back at the hotel having been defeated again by parental guilt) at the doors to find a crowd strecthing down the road. What is wrong with these people? Is today not a day of worship in the Western world. I have an excuse in that I am a Muslim so am allowed to be out galavanting of a Sunday morning buying £5 button fly jeans and 98p sunglasses. What is your excuse? This time there is no turning back as our Central London sojourns ends today. So we brace ourselves and join the fray.

And this is how life is. A musical icon passes away and well..... Life goes on. RIP MJ! I will miss you.

Five in one and one in five

No one gets out alive.

It's hard to be a saint in DC.ity

2009-06-14T18:45:00.002+01:00

After a long, long flight what you want is a warm embrace, a smile, a big hug, an offer of a cold drink, a buxom blonde with shiny white teeth and a cold towel for your furrowed brow. What you get is:

"What brings you here?"

"How long are you staying?"

"Where are you staying?"

"How much luggage are you bringing in?"

""How much cash are you carrying?"

"Why are you frowning?"

It would be easy and tempting to say "yes I understand that there is a need for security because 8 years ago some Saudis who were trained in your country committed an act of terrorism and punched a big hole in your veil of invisibility. Now that was 8 years ago, millions more innocents have died since, some at your hands. so get over it. Dawg."

However these comments are about as welcome as a bible at a bar mitzvah so with a tightening of the sphincter one holds in one's view and maintains the rictus smile whilst the whole charade goes on. I am assured this is much the better option than getting said sphincter being forcibly examined by a brute called bud who grew up on a farm and misses the goold ole days of probing said region of small unsuspecting animals.

A good forty five minutes later we are comfortably settled in our ride and off to the hotel. I am sure gaining entrance to the pearly gates would be far easier , faster and there would be no fingerprinting involved.

The first thing we notice is how green the grass really is. The grass really is greener. And lush. And everywhere there are mammoth tress with even greener leaves. The drive to the hotel is a marvel of Georgian buildings, green grass and clean streets. No wonder they keep trying to keep the riff raff out. The problem being that unfortunately they are already in.

Welcome to Obamaland.

24 out of 100..... A fail mark in any book.

2009-05-29T09:07:00.005Z

For the past week I have been tortured by the screaming, shouting hysterical wailing of one Jack Bauer. Iyawo in her wisdom picked up the latest series of 24 on DVD and it has been hell. Not only is our friend Jack, for me, the worst secret service agent ever, what with being the magnet for all the world's evils but he surely must be living in some sort of groundhog day nightmare. I think this is series 7 and for me there was no difference between this and Series 2, 3, 4, 5 and er 6. See terrorists plan to destroy America, see Jack come to the rescue, see lots of people that have any connection with Jack whatsoever get killed, see Jack being in almost constant danger but he manages to walk through glass, survive bullets, bombs, chemical poisoning and all the other atrocities these "terrorists" throw his way.

I tell you this stuff was riveting in Series 1, mildly amusing in 2, interesting in 3 or whichever series had the black President (a definite precursor for Obama I feel as the actor carried off the role with such dignity and charisma) but by now I am actually on the terrorist's side. I keep hoping that the next explosion, bullet, radio chemical will put paid to Jack but no, like a bad coin he keeps turning up saying the same things, doing the same things, chasing the same ghosts. From the various snatches of this latest series I caught, between giving Iyawo filthy looks and what not, it seemed at one point that he had one day to live. Imagine my surprise when Iyawo came out of her coma after a marathon watching session to tell me that the prat had survived and not only that but the "terrorists" had also captured his daughter (who had made some of the episodes in the other series watchable, cough) so that there would definitely be another series. No Jack please no. You have failed. Go to the back of the class.

Speaking of losers, my condolences go to the supporters of Man U. Delusional as they are and filled with false pride by the Scotsman. The air was slowly, painfully and embarrassingly let out of their balloon over 90 minutes in Rome. As a former footballer and still avid and passionate follower of the sport I cannot begin to tell you how magical it was watching that game. It was like a film. Several times I muttered to myself - this is like a practice match. The sheer domination of the game by Barca was so absolute after the first ten minutes of Ronaldo that I assumed that there was some sub plot wherein Ferguson would do something and then they would go on and win. However, God, in his infinite wisdom saved me from having to suffer the smug Scots's git after match press conference wherein he would blow smoke up his own bottom (a difficult task but he manages to do it consistently). Be quiet Sir Alex. You too have failed miserably.

For me however, the key thing was, and is, the difference between Messi and Ronaldo. On the one hand we have a perma tanned prima donna (the crooked teeth and greasy spotty face are now a thing of the past) who swans around as if he is owed everything and on the other hand you have a small pale genius who glides about the pitch without much fuss doing serious and maximum damage. The second goal from Messi will be played over and over in sport's highlights for years and demonstrates that one can be just as effective in one's work, believe in one's ability and be confident in one's self without having to always shout it from the rooftops.

Someone please tell Mr Bauer as he prepares Season 8 or is it 80?

Smoking the green shoots of recovery.....

2009-05-22T10:00:00.004Z

House prices are up. No they are down. The price of land in Lekki has fallen. No it has gone through the roof. The worst is over. No there is still more to come. UK Ministers are claiming 40p chocolate bars on expenses. Nigerian ministers are sharing $60m amongst themselves (we always have to show off don't we?). BA suffers its greatest annual loss (serves them right). BT lays off another 10,000 people. Zain jettisons 300 in Nigeria.

All these headlines and still when I look around in Lagos I do not see a single sign of this so called Cadbury's crunch. Where is it? Or are we exempt from the words "Global credit crisis?". The number of new cars continues to grow. I have seen at least half a dozen of the new and even more ugly BMW X6 in the last week not to talk about new Merc 4x4s and the latest big boys toy - the Tundra - a car bigger than some places I have lived in. So where is it? Where are the signs of cutting back? Planes are still full. Parties a plenty. So what's going on? Are we fooling ourselves or the world? Are we thumbing our noses at them from the privacy of our beach front villas? Credit crunch? Oh please squire. How distasteful. Not a topic for polite company old chap.

My landlord is looking to sell one of his houses for N100m . He has not even finished building and the buyers are already jostling. And this is not a mansion o. Just a small, well built and finished four bed house on a small plot. He looks at me with some pity when I ask if he is not asking too much. He is probably thinking to himself. Look at this JJC. This didirin. N100m is weekend money for some big boys o. These guys have the credit crunch for supper and wash it down with Moet.

So is it me? Or are some people really smoking the green shoots of recovery?

Totally unrelated to the credit crunch (but in line with smoking green shoots ) is this photo of African first ladies. Cameroon must be a much livelier place than I had gleaned from my short visit there last year. As for our own first lady - kudos for decency and decorum.

Good people. Great nation. Lazy sod!

2009-05-20T02:30:00.003Z

Well its been a long time
sorry I've kept you
without the updates you're used to
without fabu and gisting
I just went awol and missing
I apologise for my absence
too much travel to make sense.

Wow. A day is a long time in blogsville. I can only imagine how long a month must feel like. There has been so much happening that I don't even know where to start. I am discombobulated. disoriented and just dis.

Where to start? Today is the best place I suppose ,and the clearest. At my age things start to disappear from the memory banks sooner rather than later. The birthdays and other important events I have forgotten this month alone!! Anyway.

There are things happening on our estate that give cause for concern. Firstly, earlier this year they fixed the main road by which I mean you can actually drive on it without requiring a new exhaust; shocks; tires or liver. Then out of the blue just yesterday I was informed that all the streetlights had been switched on and were working! All the way from the gate to the bottom end. It was like a promenade apparently. This is fantastic news as two days ago I almost ran over a cow that was lying in the middle of the road chewing it's cud. No seriously. It was just lying there like "bros, how's things?. Yes I know I am lying in the middle of the road, just chilling but besides that what's jumping?. Me? Get run over? In this Lagos? Na lie. I pity the 4X4".

I am concerned about these developments- the street repairs, light fixing, new gate and heightened security because in Nigeria they have a way of building you up to the highest high then just when you think you can see and smell heaven they drop you down without a parachute.

I am holding my breath. The minute clean water starts coming out of our taps and we get more that five to six hours of electricity I am out of here. I won't let these people kill me o.

Tomorrow - I think some people have been smoking the green shoots of recovery.

Hot Chocolate

2009-03-21T09:17:00.003Z

I sit and stare as your steam rises

I watch your foam trickle down

With fumbling fingers I trace its path

and bring your sweet taste to my mouth

I dip my thumb into your cream

I stir the froth and feel your heat

that bubbles like molten lava

from a volcano, underneath.

I bring your cup up to my lips

I run my tongue around your rim

I ease aside your creamy defenses

and dip my tongue into your warm embrace

I sip your nectar with slow precision

I marvel at your heavy richness

a connoisseur sampling a new found taste

finding it so much to my liking

I end with cream around my face.

Much later as you lay, exhausted,

your taste still lingers in my mouth

my tongue still throbbing from its exertions

tingling from your heated responses

I run it slowly around my lips

all the while wondering how long

I must wait to savour

(for you have now made me a junkie)

your sweet nectar and flavour.

Hot Chocolate.

I am so underwhelmed.......

2009-03-18T09:36:00.002Z

Last night when I was sitting there minding my own business jeje jeje and praying for Arsenal to beat Hull so we could meet them at Wembley (prefer Arsenal to Hull o. Those Hull boys are too goal hungry for my own liking) when my phone buzzed and I received the following text message. FGN - Nigeria . Good people, great nation. I immediately scanned my phonebook for any Man u supporter with those initials but to no avail. See I thought that since I had sent condolence texts to every Man U supporter I know over their weekend destruction by Liverpool it could have been one of them sending me a text back as a piss take. No luck there. And then I thought maybe it was one of my work colleagues in the UK who had received another one of those 419 mails they are so very happy to discuss with me in great detail every time I happen to be in our HQ. Again no luck. Oh well. Back to the game.

Call me slow sha but after some time it then occured to me that hold on a minute, you didirin, FGN stands for Federal Government of Nigeria. Of course you can understand my slowness after all I am not in the habit of getting mails from the highest levels of the Executive arm. After all I am only a lowly tax paying, law abiding citizen not seeking government contracts or political office. Why in the hell would they want to acknowledge my existence?

So the Minister of Communications and Information is erm communicating with me. She is announcing the winner of the re branding Nigeria exercise. And this is it. Good people. great nation. Wow. Great. But now to more important things. How many yards does William Gallas have to be offside for the linesman to notice him and disallow his goal? I mean how can you miss a six foot black man standing all by himself in front of goal? It is not obvious that he is offside and the goal should be disallowed?

So it was that I lay awake at night tossing and turning with my stomach churning about this turn of events. I mean can you Adam and Eve it (believe) it? How could this happen in this day and age. Great nation. Good people. This is the best that we could do? I mean is this the right time to be rebranding Nigeria anyway? Do you not rebrand when you have introduced a change of some sort (ideally positive) into the old brand. Lets check the facts:

Have any corrupt Governors been tried and jailed recently. No
Has the GDP of the country changed dramatically? No
Has the Naira gained in value? No
Has the living standard of the man on the street been improved? No
Has health care, education, communication, security improved? No
Has the new Minister really thought this through?. No
Has broadband penetration, which falls under the Ministry of Comms improved enough to allow a majority of Nigeria's citizen be able to join the Global village? No
Is this really the best place for the Ministry to be focused in light of a recent one month strike by Nitel that crippled all International comms services into Nigeria due to non payment of their wages for 8 months? No

Hmmm. So basically what we are saying is that things are still as they are but we will call them a new name? Like changing from NEPA to PHCN? We will slap new paint on a derelict house? We will put new seat covers on an abandoned car? And this rebranding exercise will only cost $150m to execute? Bargain (but there is no money ot pay Nitel workers?). For that sort of price we should do it every month.

As for Arsenal. Maybe we could rebrand them as Arse. Has a certain ring to it don't you think? Actually we could use that term for the Nigeria rebranding as well.

I'm so tired of fXXXing all morning and afternoon.

2009-02-04T18:07:00.002Z

Regular readers of this blog will know that I am not one to swear as I know my readers are a delicate sort and any sort of profanity will send them rushing for the smelling salts. The less frequent readers who read the title of this post and expected some treatise about my athletic sexual life will also be somewhat disappointed as this post is not about that at all (obviously that would require a book in itself. A small tome. Something along the lines of War and Peace.)

No dear reader this post is about the amount of fxxxing that has been going on on my TV over the past few days. I mean I had first noticed this last year but since I don't spend my time in front of the TV in the daytime it has sort of slipped my attention until now. Over the past few days, working from home and having the box on for background company has been a revelation. Actually too much was revealed.

There has been language that is normally only reserved for after the watershed (9pm) in the Uk and as a matter of fact is not allowed on mainstream commercial channels at all in the US. For good reason. It is called decency. One programme was being broadcast at the exact time as the youngest troublemakers were returning from school and I imagine if, as is their habit , they had settled themselves comfortably in front of the tube to unwind they would have had a few choice things to say to us that evening at story time. And even more awkward questions.

There was frequent use of the F word, the A word, the T word and even more graphic presentations of said words. All this in broad daylight. I mean do we not have a regulator in this country? What does the Minister for Info. & Comms. actually make of this? Should this sort of thing be allowed? What happens during the kids holidays when they are home all day and will probably stumble across these programmes? These are movie channels that one day are showing a children's film and the next an "adult" one. Should DSTV's licence not be reviewed with a view to setting some standards? I am not sure but are they allowed to show these programmes at these times in South Africa?

The most bizarre thing about all this is that whilst all this effing and blinding is going on freely, any mention of the word God is bleeped out! What kind of world are we living in?

Oh Please Mr Momodu.. Give me a break!!

2009-02-03T06:16:00.004Z

There are a few key words that immediately set my teeth on edge. Long time readers of my blog will know that these include but are not limited to Madonna, Tom Cruise, Lagos traffic and British Airways. This list is by no means exhaustive and as I get older and more crotchety I continually add to it. Today the honour falls to Mr Momodu – the publisher of Ovation Magazine.
For those not familiar with this glossy it is a celebration of everything shiny and bright in Nigeria (and now several other undeserving countries). Now despite the opening paragraph above I also adopt a live and let live attitude. (Wait now. Stop laughing). Don’t invade my space and I will surely stay out of yours. However over the past two weeks Mr Momodu via his column on the back pages of the This Day newspapers on Sunday has been pontificating about what is wrong with Nigeria and has therefore stepped into my space.

This week’s article was about the large number of VIPs we now have in our midst who go so far as to take their bodyguards everywhere with them. Even into Church where said bodyguard blocks the view of the regular, normal members of the congregation!! Mr Momodu questions why this is necessary when even the US President is often seen delivering speeches without some guard casting a shadow over him. Last week's article was no better.

So what’s my beef? Well, I refer back to said Ovation magazine as published by Mr Momodu which celebrated and continues to celebrate the “achievements” of some of the most dubious and odious characters in this country. As a matter of fact as far back as three years ago I started referring to the “Ovation lifestyle” meaning people who with no discernible means of income would be photographed in their huge mansions displaying the usual gold plated tat or lounging casually against a Rolls Royce or some other material indicator of their “arrival”.

I particularly remember the birthday party for a particular Anambra State godfather’s child whom I believe was turning two. If I recall correctly there was a full edition dedicated to this “celebration” including glitzy photos of the aforementioned mansion, Roller and other candied yams. Now as far as I am aware I have never read a single business journal here or abroad wherein the name of Mr Rivers State was mentioned as a great industrialist being that he invented this, manufactured that or produced the other. The fact that his elder brother was at that time sitting at the kitchen table with our then President speaks volumes.

So how can the publisher of a magazine who is happy to take money from all and sundry to appear in his rag then pontificate about said flotsam and jetsam if they start to believe the hype and act accordingly? Has he not himself legitimised their actions? Is he not sending the message that regardless of where and how you get your money that it does not matter? Is he not celebrating the very vices which he now denounces? Is this not what is called talking out of both sides of your mouth?

And the most galling bit of all is that having helped to create the monsters that regularly appear glossily in his glossy Mr Momodu sensibly decamped to the safety and relative calm of Ghana from whence he pontificates only popping into Nigeria to celebrate another occasion with another "big boy or girl".

KAKA. COOKOO!

2009-01-17T19:52:00.002Z

I have a very good sense of humour. People always say to me that I should have been a comedian (as they hand me my letter of termination). Some even call me a joker. I also love football. With a passion. I mean even the title of this blog suggests that. But even with these attributes I was still caught offside (see what I did there?) when my friend rang me to say that he had heard that Manchester City was prepared to pay £100m transfer fee for a player (one player) and on top of this they would make sure that he did not dig too deeply into his overdraft by dropping a cool quarter of a million pounds every week into his bank account. Oh how I laughed at my friend. Being an Arsenal supporter he is used to being laughed at but he is laughing last. And loudest. And longest.

It would appear that in these days of the credit crunch , the cookie crumbling, the cake down to crumbs that somewhere in this global village of ours there are still what can only be described as muppets. One hundred million pounds for a football player or any other athlete for that matter is a ridiculously staggering amount and the fact that it is for a player for Manchester City who not too long ago were looking into the abyss of the exit door of the Premiership (and maybe they still are) just beggars belief. This amount would keep the first division happy for at least two full seasons and yet they are prepared to spend it on one player?

The worst part of it is listening to Mark Hughes, the Manchester City manager, who one would have thought would be the voice of reason based on his background trying to justify it. With a straight face!! I mean how much did he spend on Robinho? £35m? And the impact he has had? Are they challenging the top 4? No. Are they vying to play in Europe? No. Are they playing like the same old Manchester City that we know and love. Oh yes. So let me get this straight. If a £35m player cannot make a difference then of course one should spend an even more ridiculous sum of money on another one. And if that fails then hmmmm let me think.

This bring to mind the story of NIGCOMSAT. The Nigerian Communications Satellite that was launched last year with help from our friends the Chinese for a ridiculous sum of money just over $250m. Said satellite after twisting in orbit for just over a year then gave up the ghost. Lost power. Failed. After much investigation into the cause and much soul searching and technical and financial auditing (not) the MD of NIGCOMSAT then rushed down to the National Assembly to ask for funds to replace the “parked” satellite with two. So instead of $250m could he please just have $500m so that he can have a spare. You know just in case. Maybe Mark Hughes should run for office in Nigeria.?

Having thought long and hard about it I can only surmise that this is some sort of money laundering scam by our friends from the desert. The Arabs of course not the Hausas of Northern Nigeria. I am talking about Kaka the player not the space satellite Kaka of course.

In my mind I see the negotiations thus between the buyer and the agent.:
Hello I am is Abdul from Abu Dhabi. I want Kaka.
Sir the toilet is that way.
Toilet? No toilet. I want Kaka and I want right here, right now.
Sir I am sorry but you cannot Kaka right here, right now.
I give you $50m.
Sir, we will bring the toilet to you for you to Kaka right here, right now. Is there anything else you would like?
No just Kaka and tomorrow he must be in Manchester.
Oh I see. You want Kaka the player, not Kaka the toilet.
Yes Kaka the player to go to Manchester, the toilet. I give you $100m.
Sir for that sort of money you can have Kaka and Kajagoogoo
No kajagoogoo. Just Kaka. I give you $150m. You take cheque? I only have $100m cash.
Sir we have just spoken to Kaka and he says that he is not interested in moving for money.
Not for money! For Manchester City. I give you $200m.
Sir without even speaking to Kaka I can assure you he will be in Manchester City by next season.
Next season? No tomorrow. I want Kaka now. Tell him I pay him $500,000 every week.
Sir Kaka is already on the plane and will be arriving in Manchester shortly. We will inform his family and team mates as soon as we have the chance (or the cheque clears, whichever comes first).

Pardon the flight of fantasy but how else can you explain this type of lunacy? Again I am of course referring to the football one. The Nigeria satellite one is easily explained is it not?

BULLETS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS - UPDATED

2009-01-08T15:21:00.002Z

Bullets speak louder than wordsI know,

I heard and saw it for myself

When the robbers came to the bank

For the first time the street fell silent

No car horns, no okadas buzzing

No shouting, fighting, raucous laughter

All fell silent as the guns blazed

With their own unique molten cadenza

My friends it’s the truth I tell you

Bullets speak louder than words

Just look at our friend Mugabe

A million dead due to poverty and hunger

And a million more to go through disease

Yet he sits there quietly mocking

Planning his Christmas fete for friends and family

Whilst the international community imposes

Their worthless and hypocritical sanctions

Because he knows that he controls the choir

And at the very first sign of real trouble

He will deliver them special Christmas carols

And will watch them fall silent once again

My friends it’s the truth I tell you

Because bullets speak louder than words

And to the terrorists of India

Who came to kill in the dead of night

Who knows how long they had been agitating

Asking for “constructive dialogue”

Where was Sky News, CNN, Al Jazeera

When their words fell on deaf ears

But armed and dangerous and full of swagger

Lost for words no longer “speaking”

They took to the streets to cause their carnage

Left us speechless with their message

My friends it’s the truth I tell you

Bullets speak louder than words

And while the streets of Lagos are littered

With the poor, the sick, the mad, the homeless

A Senator imports a floating hotel to the Marina

Says it will bring much needed tourists

Like what we need is more people in Lagos?

What will it do for us ask the trampled masses?

Will it feed, or clothe, or house or cure us?

But it’s hard to hear the masses crying

Above the sounds of clicking champagne glasses

But the man on the street will soon learn the secret

That if you scream and scream but no one hears you

My friends it’s the truth I tell you

Bullets speak louder than words

Lets not forget our leaders in Abuja

Where the rot is truly set

Where there is no room for true discussion

Where freedom of information is just an act

Where our trusted leader Yardy,

good a man as they say he is

Finds himself surrounded by Judas'

Out to only enrich themselves

Each of them with forty policemen

Not to protect them from the sniper’s bullet

But for the day when the masses open their eyes

And close their mouths

Because suddenly they have discovered that

My friends it’s the truth I tell you

Bullets speak louder than words

And now in Gaza they dance to shrapnel

Fire rains from earth and sky

Isreal says we have the right to

Claim 500 of them for one of ours

Using our shiny new US made armors

Jets, and Tanks, and Guns and rockets

We can pick them off as we wish and will and want

Mouthpieces smirk their way across my telly

Meanwhile the Bush man plans his leaving party

Whilst babies bodies decompose

The world suppresses its revulsion

And prays that soon a truce might come

Oh my friends its the truth I tell you

Bullets speak louder than words

How does this picture make you feel?

2008-12-31T15:14:00.004Z

I have been meaning to post this picture for months but in the course of my pre-New Year cleanup I came across the magazine in which it was originally printed- The Sunday Times Magazine of Feb. 10, 2008. In the spirit of not putting off what can be done today etc etc I decided to put it up straight away.

In my humble opinion if this chap really needs a bodyguard I am sure he can afford to get one. There are quite a few of the private security\bodyguard firms in existence. My issue is that not only is a member of the Nigerian Police Force - fully funded and trained by the Nigerian taxpayer - holding an umbrella over this chap's head but in the meantime somewhere in the Lagos metropolis said Nigerian taxpayer is getting robbed, brutalised, murdered for lack of a proper Police force.

It does not take long to be in Lagos for one to become used to the literally hundreds of private cars with a member of the Police Force in the front passenger seat. Meanwhile crime continues to ebb and flow and lives continue to be lost around them like so much debris.

If private citizens do want a personal service why does the force not create a private security unit which they can then charge handsomely for? Why take away the limited resources from the masses for the sake of a privileged few who can afford it?

There was recently a robbery at the bank across the road from us that took over an hour. Two bank staff were murdered and as far as I can determine the were not really challenged by any sort of Police response yet when you get to the Lekki roundabout about a mile up the road you will see all the RRS vehicles that Fashola has funded as well as an armored truck!! From what we gathered later the robbers numbered 8 in number. Even with their "sophisticated" weapons would they have been able to overcome a force of say 50 policemen? Yet you will find that in Lekki Phase 1, within a two mile radius of the crime, there must be over a hundred policemen guarding the private houses of expatriates and other big men.

Have we not truly lost the plot?

P.S- I was at the Civic Centre last week when Atiku arrived in a convoy amid a cacophony of sirens and at least 20 police officers. Surely if he is that afraid for his life and well being he should leave the country for safer climes? How about his multi million dollar mansion in Washington DC allegedly paid for by Siemens through his wife's account? I wonder if the Americans will provide him with a 20 policeman convoy?

Touch

2008-12-18T20:24:00.004Z

A hug tight
Embrace warm
Spark electric
Raising hair
Deep sighs
Warm thighs
Long gazing
Auburn eyes
Silky strands
Woven hair
Sniff nectar
Mingle and tingle
Moan and purr
Fingers trailing
Spine tingling
Lava burn
Brow sweaty
Toes curl
I awake ruffled
Floating and gasping
For a
TOUCH.

KEEPING UP THE ACT.

2008-12-06T21:21:00.001Z

And in the end
What are we
But actors in a play
On a stage where we are thrust
Into the blinding spotlight
Where we spout our lines unrehearsed
Surrounded by other actors
Most total strangers
With whom we try to sync together
This yarn called life

And how often do we have to change our roles
To fit the scenery that surrounds us
To match the tempo of the action
To be as one with the drama
To laugh on cue with the humour
To cry out loud with the tragic

And who wrote this absurdist play
In which I find myself
Trying not to look too lost
A great act in itself
As I wander aimlessly across the stage
Occasionally bumping into scenery and other actors
Oh pardon me, excuse me, sorry. Ouch

And those that wait for me to give them their cue
So they too can take centre stage
Well how would they feel if they knew
I make it up as I go along

And in the end
All that I ask for
As I take my very last bow
Is that somewhere out from the darkness
A voice will shout bravo
And whisper he was no Olivier
But by God he tried his best
Until then I’ll keep on posing and preening
Keeping up the act.

BULLETS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS.

2008-12-06T11:31:00.002Z

Bullets speak louder than words

I know, I heard and saw it for myself
When the robbers came to the bank
For the first time the street fell silent
No car horns, no okadas buzzing
No shouting, fighting, raucous laughter
All fell silent as the guns blazed
With their own unique molten cadenza
My friends it’s the truth I tell you
Bullets speak louder than words

Just look at our friend Mugabe
A million dead due to poverty and hunger
And a million more to go through disease
Yet he sits there quietly mocking
Planning his Christmas fete for friends and family
Whilst the international community imposes
Their worthless and hypocritical sanctions
Because he knows that he controls the choir
And at the very first sign of real trouble
He will deliver them special Christmas carols
And will watch them fall silent once again
My friends it’s the truth I tell you
Because bullets speak louder than words

And to the terrorists of India
Who came to kill in the dead of night
Who knows how long they had been agitating
Asking for “constructive dialogue”
Where was Sky News, CNN, Al Jazeera
When their words fell on deaf ears
But armed and dangerous and full of swagger
Lost for words no longer “speaking”
They took to the streets to cause their carnage
Left us speechless with their message
My friends it’s the truth I tell you
Bullets speak louder than words

And while the streets of Lagos are littered
With the poor, the sick, the mad, the homeless
A Senator imports a floating hotel to the Marina
Says it will bring much needed tourists
Like what we need is more people in Lagos?
What will it do for us ask the trampled masses?
Will it feed, or clothe, or house or cure us?
But it’s hard to hear the masses crying
Above the sounds of clicking champagne glasses
But the man on the street will soon learn the secret
That if you scream and scream but no one hears you
My friends it’s the truth I tell you
Bullets speak louder than words

Lets not forget our leaders in Abuja
Where the rot is truly set
Where there is no room for true discussion
Where freedom of information is just an act
Where our trusted leader Yardy, good a man as they say he is
Finds himself surrounded by Judas'
Out to only enrich themselves
Each of them with forty policemen
Not to protect them from the sniper’s bullet
But for the day when the masses open their eyes
And close their mouths
Because suddenly they have discovered that
My friends it’s the truth I tell you
Bullets speak louder than words

NUMB

2008-12-03T19:00:00.002Z

I AM NUMB

THERE IS A BLACK MAN
IN A HOUSE CALLED WHITE
SOME THEY SAY HE IS A MESSIAH
COME TO RENEW MANKIND’S HOPE
SEEMS THERE IS A NEED FOR CLEANSING
IN THIS WORLD OF OURS
I AM NUMB

THERE’S A GANG
WITH MACHINE GUNS
MURDER OF INNOCENTS ACROSS THE ROAD
I WATCH A SOLITARY POLICEMAN FIRING
TRY TO FIGHT THEM OFF, WHERE IS THE RSS?
I AM NUMB

RIBADU, A TRUE SERVANT OF THE STATE
IS BRANDED A SINNER, AND HUNG OUT TO DRY
THIS FISH HEAD IS ROTTEN, THROUGH AND THROUGH
WHAT THE HELL TO TELL THE CHILDREN
ABOUT THE NEED TO SERVE YOUR COUNTRY
I AM NUMB

LONDON,LAGOS,CAPE TOWN
JO BURG, LAGOS, DUBAI,
ABUJA, LAGOS, ABUJA, LAGOS
LONDON, LAGOS
LIFE IS A BLUR
JUST DOING MY JOB
DON’T CRY FOR ME ARGENTINA
I AM NUMB

THEY DRIVE A NAIL
INTO A CHILD’S HEAD
TO CURE HER OF WITCHCRAFT
HER PARENTS APPROVE
AND EVEN PAID THE HEALER
SOME ARE MADE TO BATHE IN ACID
I AM NUMB

THE END OF THE YEAR
APPROACHES AT BREAKNECK SPEED
START OF THE YEAR
SEEMS LIKE YESTERDAY
I AM NUMB

TO THOSE THAT “THINK”
THERE IS NO RESPITE
TO THOSE THAT “FEEL”
EVERY DAY IS TORTURE
THIS COUNTRY IS NO PLACE
FOR FAINT HEARTED
I AM NUMB

I CLOSE MY EYES
BUT STILL SEE CLEARLY
I CLOSE MY EARS
BUT THE SILENCE IS NOT GOLDEN
A WOMAN STRIPPED NAKED IN BROAD DAYLIGHT
AND STILL THE NAVY IS ALL OUT AT SEA
I AM NUMB

BUT AS DARKNESS
WRAPS ITS CLOAK AROUND ME THIS EVENING
AS THE SUN SLOPES OFF IN SILENT SHAME
AS THE DAWN TEASES FROM AFAR I COUNT THE HOURS
AND WILL THE DAWN FASTER
GASPING FOR THE MORNING DEW
I PRAY TOMORROW DELIVERS
ON ITS MANY PROMISES
I DON’T WANT TO BE NUMB.

Happy Indepedence Day.... wooohoooo

2008-10-02T13:06:00.003Z

From Fixing Nigeria group on Facebook.

For nearly five decades, the Nigerian experience has been a potpourri of events orchestrated by the actions and inactions of her citizenry. Within several narratives, the stories have been told from different perspectives, leading to the emergence of a crowd of voices, ideas, and initiatives proclaiming and advocating for the rebirth of a new order. However, in the midst of the mounting consensus for change, the prevailing paradox is a flurry of excitement about the dream of a new Nigeria, an overwhelming zeal without knowledge, activity without productivity, glamour devoid of substance - a mere dissipation of passion without action. The truth is, in this journey towards national greatness, talk is cheap and will never be enough.

So much has been said recently about what could be done to properly reward, honour and empower our national flag designer, Pa Taiwo Akinkunmi. His story has been told over and over again. Over the years, numerous promises have been made by government, a few corporate bodies and individuals about how the old man and his family can be given a befitting treatment with a lasting impact on his health, welfare and the essence of our national heritage which he and many others who have also added value represent. A few good men and women have kept their promises and this has been helpful to Pa Akinkunmi. But to what extent?

Hence, upon the realisation of the need to match words with action, a team of young Nigerians led by renowned IT expert and social entrepreneur ‘Gbenga Sesan, visited the Ibadan home of Pa Akinkunmi on the eve of the October 1st Independence Day celebration in a bid to set the tone for a constructive agenda that will put an end to the unpleasant tales of indigence currently surrounding the unsung national hero. The meeting with Pa Akinkunmi and his family was hinged on a two-fold agenda:

1. A Nigerian Flag Foundation that will promote patriotic values among Nigerians while ensuring that no national hero (regardless of how minute his/her contribution) is forgotten. The Foundation may also cater for health and other welfare matters affecting Pa Akinkunmi, his family and other “forgotten heroes”.

2. A book on the life and times of the national flag designer, the proceeds of which will go to the Foundation (Trust) managed by a proper Governing Council or Board of Trustees.

Although Pa Akinkunmi was unavoidably absent as he had to leave earlier than planned for Benin City on that day, his eldest son Akin Akinkunmi stood in his place. It was a deeply emotional meeting, which revealed how much help the family needed from well-meaning Nigerians who would be willing to assist. Akin, a 33-year old HND graduate of Building Technology is still unemployed and practically stays at home with Baba. He also recanted details of how early this year, his father was invited by the Governor of Oyo state, Otunba Alao Akala, on the premise that though he was an indigene of Ogun state residing in Oyo State, plans were being made to give him a deserving reward and honour soonest. Akin, his eldest son who accompanied him to the meeting was also promised a gainful employment by the governor. That was in February 2008. To date, several efforts by Akin Akinkunmi to reach the governor on behalf of his father have proved abortive.

He also spoke about how resources from a popular TV game show have helped them procure and renovate a property in Ibadan. As the meeting progressed, it became apparent that for any meaningful and sustained repositioning of the Akinkunmi family to occur, the first son of the family would need to be established on the pathway of responsibility and enterprise. Without probing further to get more information about why he hasn’t been able to apply his hands to work in a bid to help his dad and family, we knew it would be impossible to suggest anything constructive about empowering this young man – who can in turn build and sustain his family’s legacy. It was then with great relief and a unanimous bodily expression of ‘eureka!’ that we all jumped up the moment Akin revealed to us his passion. What was it about? He loves machines and would love to build capacity in the repair of generators, and has had plans to resume apprenticeship with a “generator house” but was held back by the need for funds to take care of his family while learning more about generators. We were happy that Akin opened up to us in a way that helped define what next needed to be done. At this point, we had spent about two (2) hours deliberating with him on the purpose of our visit to his family and the need to help him find purpose.

As the meeting drew to a close, the gathering resolved as follows:

1. That the “delegation”, working with others with interest in this cause, will commence work on the book project and, the Nigerian Flag Foundation initiative;

2. To help connect Akin with an employer (and mentor) who will provide him an environment where he can pursue his passion (generators);

3. That one thousand (1,000) letters be written and signed by one thousand (1,000) concerned Nigerians addressed to the Executive Governor of Oyo State, reminding him of his promises to assist Pa Taiwo Akinkunmi and his family. The letters should be sent on or before November 31st, 2008.

The following persons were in attendance at this historic meeting:
1. ‘Gbenga Sesan – Convener
2. Jide Adeyemi
3. Ohimai Godwin Amaize
4. Tayo Opatayo
5. Femi Giwa
6. Ferdinand Adimefe
7. Oreoluwa Ladokun
8. Akin Akinkunmi

END

Toks Boy - If a fool at 40 is a fool forever what does that make Nigeria? What does the future hold at 50? 60? 70?

If Nigeria is independent then what about its citizens? When do they break free of the shackles their "Government" continues to tie around their ankles, wrists and waists, imaginations, dreams and aspirations?

Yesterday morning a man woke up and drove to work as the manager of a small convenience shop in Suru- Lere specialising in every day items for the home as well as some frozen goods. He was not expecting it to be very busy as the area was very quiet. At some point in the afternoon some men walked in and took his life. And the contents of his cash drawer.

Just like that.
In the middle of the afternoon.
Just like that.
In the middle of the afternoon.
Just like that.
In the middle of the afternoon.

Yesterday night another family flung their screams into the dark . Futile really as it was mixed in with the millions of other screams crowding out the light. Will we ever see the dawn?

Happy Independence Day Nigeria. One day I hope you gain wisdom, maturity, compassion, understanding.

I hope it is not too late.

Life on Mars

2008-09-19T07:04:00.004Z

I arrived in the US as a naive, highly inquisitive, very excited 13 year old in my beige Rayon suit and nylon shirt with the psychedelic designs and my patent leather black shoes. I, along with the other transit passengers was whisked from JFK to LaGuardia (or was it vice versa?) via helicopter (no advance warning oh.) to catch my onward flight to Ohio. Everything was a blur, mad, unreal. A small taste of what was to come.

I started in the local high school almost immediately where I was one of maybe five black students but the only one from the "motherland". I scared them small with my accent and I think my reading of a page of literature in English class in that first month will probably stay with those lucky enough to be there for life. They probably still talk about it at the school reunions. Along with the very tight flares and unwieldy platforms that I once showed up in on the misguided basis that I looked "cool, man". One wrong move either way and it was either a broken ankle or give up any plans for having children.

Life after school revolved around homework, going to films, watching TV and taking long walks around the campus where we lived. It also revolved around finally having access to my one downfall in life. Cakes, cookies, candy, chocolate. See mum used to work at NTC on Marina and everyday after school we would "pop by" to visit her on the way home. This visit normally involved totally bypassing her floor (after all I can see her at home, abi?) and heading straight for the canteen which stocked all the finest delicacies and sweets and the latest comic books. If the place had a bed I would never have left.

Anyway, one day after school, in the US (please keep up) I went home, got my laundry and made my way to the laundry room which was in the basement of the block where we lived. I threw the washing in the machine, along with the soap powder, got it going and decided that after all this hard work and effort I deserved a treat. I made my way over to the machine and bought myself a Mars bar. I slowly unwrapped it looking forward to the sheer bliss of it and then my head exploded.

As I bit down and chewed on the sticky chocolate the room started to move and swirl. Everything turned rubbery. The colours became most vivid. The sounds much too clear. I slumped against the wall and dropped the bar. I traced my way to the elevator and pushed the button. I crawled in when it arrived and by this time I was in a cold sweat. I fumbled my way to my room where I collapsed into my bed after putting the aircon on full blast. My heart was palpitating, colours swirled around in my mind, I felt myself floating. My head was pulsing, my heart thumped in my chest. All I could see in my mind's eye were these swirling psychedelic colours and shapes. They were very intriguing, they way they kept moving around, changing shape and form and hues.

I lay like this for God knows how long before I finally came to. At first I wondered if it had all been a dream but the soaked sheets were evidence to the contrary. And so it was that I discovered life on Mars.

A Hard Rain is Gonna Fall....

2008-09-15T10:32:00.003Z

Talk is cheap. I know that. I was always the quietest one in my social circles. I was viewed as an oddity. An enigma. An old soul in a young man's body. I once went a month year barely uttering a sentence to the people I lived with.

I wrote a poem about words back then. I only remember these lines:

Some people throw words around

like left over currency

after a cheap foreign holiday

I guard my words like diamonds and gold

for they are the currency of my soul.

I am content to just be. To listen. And listen some more. But deep within me the emotions churn. The facade might be calm but the interior is aflame. So much so that sometimes I break out in a hot sweat.

So what is this all about? It is about the need for change. The need to do something. As the comments on my last post have revealed we are now getting to the stage where words are no longer enough. Enough words have been written and printed to flatten the Amazon rain forests and yet we are where we are. Or even backward. So now what? I also realise that whilst we sit here on our blogs postulating and agitating for change there is only a small minority of us. After all how many people in Nigeria even have access to the internet? Well, it is my field so let me tell you - less than 5% of the population. And that's being generous.

So what to do? How about a million (man) march? Would that make any difference? Could we even garner a million in this days of apathy? How about a strike by civil servants? Would that get support? How about a petition delivered to Aso Rock? Would it even get to the door? What do we have to do as citizens of this great country to get

- constant power?

- proper education for our kids that does not cost an arm and a leg?

- proper healthcare - ditto the above?

- transparency in government?

and that's just for starters. Another poem

Someday a hard rain is gonna fall

and strip us naked one and all

where will you run when its falling down?

where will you hide when it's raining all around?

Hard Rain, Hard Rain.

In my view we have run out of hiding places. We are exposed. It's raining all around. Hard Rain.

All that you have is your soul.

2008-08-30T09:59:00.003+01:00

Oh my mama told me
'Cause she say she learned the hard way
She say she wanna spare the children
She say don't give or sell your soul away
'Cause all that you have is your soul

Tracy Chapman- All that you have is your soul.

I have been silent over the past few weeks only because I have been silenced by my environment. My defences have been breached by the various news reports official and unofficial about the state of this once great nation. I still have not learned that one must not take it personally. But then again maybe I never will.

Where do I start? Is it the apparent waste of N800m (yes million) by the Chairman of NDDC to a sorcerer to get rid of his rivals. He was alleged to have been ordered to burn N250m (yes million) as part of the ritual.

Is it the unofficial fund raising for Obama in Lagos that raised over N400m (yes million)? Does Obama need fundraisers from Nigeria? Is he not already the best funded Presidential candidate ever? Could the average man on the streets of Naija coping on less that N500 daily do with some of that money? Or does he have to run for US President to get access? Who are the big boy and girls who were prepared to make these donations whilst ensconced in the cosy confines of the Muson Centre. Did they drive through the streets of Lagos to get there? Did they notice the poverty along the way or is it the case that they were in their blacked out SUVs with the proverbial convoy and sirens.

Is it the total lack of visibility of our fearless leader. Yar Adua, Yar Adua. Wherefore art thou Yar Adua? My love for you at the time of the elections is quickly dissipating. Absence is not making my heart fonder. In the last year I have only had the opportunity to see you once on TV. All other times I have to rely on grainy photos in grainy papers as you meet and greet some contract seeking parasite or other. Where is the State of Emergency on the energy sector? The agricultural sector? The aviation section? The financial sector? The telecoms sector? The public sector?

Apparently we now have about $64bn (yes billion and yes dollars) in reserve due to the generous price of petrol. What are we reserving it for? A rainy day? Everyday I wake up and look outside my window and I see the thunderstorms. Can you not hear it from the deep seclusion of Aso rock? Do your advisors not tell you about all the people drowning out on the streets?

Is it the fact that my very own people continue to let me, and ultimately themselves, down on a daily basis? Where the me first mentality has overtaken everything? Where anything for the boys is now the byword to life? Where progress can only be measured in the size of the contract?

Is it the fact that we went to the Olympics and came back defeated? (Put the football to one side. We should have won the Gold. We beat those boys before and we could have done it again.) What happened to the funds for the athletes? How many athletes went to the Olympics? How many "officials" accompanied them? Why is no one asking questions? Why is no one doing the maths?

Is it the fact that I turn on the telly to see a formerly disgraced Governor being chased and surrounded by journalists who are seeking his views on National matters? Has the man even finished with his own case? Is he still not a criminal? And a thief? Yet he has the audacity to be seen out in public? He seems to have gained the weight back. the good life is evident in his face. I guess it was all a misunderstanding. I suspect he will run for Governor again at the next elections.

These are truly the times that try men's souls. They are certainly trying mine.

The Boys are back in town....and in business.

2008-08-18T10:27:00.003+01:00

CHELSEA 4- PORTMOUTH 0.

The first half was the best Chelsea display I have seen in 5 years. Even when I was at the Bridge every weekend. Even when Gullit was in charge. Even in the days of Mourinho.

And then of course Man U (who??) failed to beat the Geordies. The look on Fergie's face. Priceless. Squeaky bum time and its only the first game of the season?

Oh what a weekend!!

On behalf of all Chelsea fans.....

2008-08-11T13:39:00.003+01:00

It would appear that Wayne Rooney and some other members of the Man Utd team picked up a "virus" on their money grabbing, empire building "tour"of Nigeria (i.e. in and out of Abuja). Apparently the poor dear and his colleagues were sick to their stomachs (i assume this is the same way the spectators felt), laid low and were unable to train after getting back to the UK.

According to squeaky bum Fergie - "I doubt if we'll get Rooney fit for the start of the season with the virus he's had,'' Ferguson said. "It's a virus he picked up in Nigeria and it's not a nice one, but quite a few have had it. It's such a bad virus and he's got to be training to be fit.''

Whilst I did not realise that there were nice viruses that one could pick up, I would nevertheless just like to extend my sympathies to these guys (no sincerely). Really. Honestly. Trust me. I mean it.

Though next time I am confident that the Chelsea Abuja Supporters Club will ensure that the "mixture" is more powerful. Cough. cough.

I would also like to point out that no such fate seems to have befallen the mighty Portsmouth. Draw your own conclusions.

The Premiership Season starts this weekend. Bring it on.

Customer Service. Naija stylie.

2008-07-27T18:13:00.002+01:00

I phone a hotel nearby that prides itself as 3 star to make a booking for a guest. The receptionist that answers asks me for the guest's name which I duly giver her. She then asks me for how many nights which I again confirm. She then quotes me a price which is different from he brochure in my hand. She tells me that this is for a different type of room. I explain that this tyoe will suffice. And she promptly hangs up.

Thinking we have been accidentally disconnected as is common here I ring back. She answers again.

Me: I think we were cut off.

She: No. I hung up.

Me : But why now?

She : You told me the name of the Client, you confirmed the number of days required and you already knew the price. So what else?

Me : A thank you would be....

She had hung up. Charming.

I call a very local estate agent in Ajah from whom we are looking to rent a room. We have a discussion at which I manage to get him to lower his rates. We arrange to meet the next day. Before he hangs up he says: Thanks very much for your call. I really look forward to seeing you in our offices tomorrow and I look forward to serving you and doing business with you. I really value your custom.

And there you have it. Naija. You just never quite know what to expect.

A slow descent into hell...

2008-07-27T17:20:00.002+01:00

Over to my sister in law's house to say hello. My family complain that they used to see me more when I was travelling back and forth from the UK than now that I am based in Naija. I explain that the trip from the UK to Lagos was a lot easier than the trip from Lekki to Suru-Lere. Those who have experienced the Lekki traffic know what I mean.

Anyway after catching up with a few pleasantries I ask whether she has managed to find another job being as she is fed up with her current one and then she tells me this story. Apparently not too long ago at a Zenith bank branch the manager was upset that sales targets were not being met and therefore decided that punishment had to be meted out. The punishment took the form of asking all the staff to get on their knees. Like you know back in primary school. More astonishingly they all complied!! We are talking about adults here. Some were parents. Some had actually acquired their degrees through legal means. On their knees. Apparently afterwards one of them resigned and has now acquired a lawyer. My sis in law is not sure what the claim will be.

At another bank branch apparently the manager needs a walking stick for her mobility. Word has it that when she gets frustrated she uses this as a whip to get the staff to sit up and take notice. Imagine being flogged at work. In a bank. What do you tell your friends and family when they ask you how your day was? This is not counting the numerous stories of these bank marketeers that are prepared to drop more than their principle(s) in order to reach ever demanding targets. Or sleep with the boss. And his wife.

Yesterday we were on the Lekki expressway on the way to the beach. Out of nowhere appeared a white pickup that forced us into the inside lane towards the kerb where people scattered helter and then skelter to avoid certain you know what. The pickup was closely followed by a dark blue 4 x 4 carrying the usual rag tag boys in blue. As I watched open mouth the lead car forced a car against the outside kerb and another few inches and the driver would have hit the divide at speed leading to a front tyre explosion. And God knows what else. I asked my driver to try and catch up with the perpetrators but they were going at such a speed it would have been impossible to do without risking our lives and other innocent ones. So they got away with it.

In the lead car driven by a Nigerian was a white man. In the back of the truck was some black fibre as used in the deployment of telecoms services. And it struck me that my fellow countrymen are readily prepared to kill their fellow man, woman and child in order to help a white man get his fibre to site on time. What price communication?

How can we have any sense of self worth when we are being sold out so cheaply by our very own?

Goodnight Entebbe -Part 2

2008-07-26T20:33:00.004+01:00

I am writing this follow up under pressure from one of my favourite bloggers - Yar Mama whose blog Silent Screams is always a source of a smile. Sometimes a giggle. Sometimes just outright guffawing. There are times also when I am overwhelmed at the richness of her prose and the depth of her observations. Needless to say I feel under pressure to deliver the goods on this one. So here goes..

Step out the front door like a ghost
into the fog where no one notices
the contrast of white on white.
And in between the moon and you
the angels get a better view
of the crumbling difference between wrong and right.
Round Here by The Counting Crows.

He stepped out from behind the tree causing the three of us to stop dead in our tracks in shock and surprise. The visit so far had been littered with all sorts of weirdness and strangeness and we were already on edge. The piercing screams and howling in the night, that had been denied in the morning. The almost military vibe of the dormitories and surroundings. Having to use a bucket to do my number 1 business in our hut. Having to use a hole in the ground for my number 2 surrounded by all sorts of rodents and other non paying voyeurs. So please understand that the last thing we needed was him stepping out of the shadows like a ghost.

His first sentence will stay with me till the day I die. "I used to be a Muslim" he said and left it hanging there in the air for us to inhale, taste and digest. After what seemed like hours of silence from us which realistically was seconds he repeated it again still standing in the shadows of the tree for fear of being seen. I finally managed to get my words out. "Then what happened?" I asked. "They came to take me away from my family. Twice I ran back but each time they came to take me back. I miss my brother and sister. My parents are dead. It is only my grandparents left."

It turns out that the charity we were visiting which provides a home for children orphaned by the AIDS epidemic had picked him from his grandparents and then "converted" him into Christianity as a pre-condition of being looked after. Twice he had run back to the bosom of his family but each time they had come back to get him. He had initially refused to give up his faith but eventually they had disciplined it out of him (or at least he let them think so).....

Imagine his surprise therefore when having been told that all Muslims were evil and going to hell anyway to find himself seated across from two Muslims. Both of them married to Christians!! I mean come on. It was obvious he was in turmoil. And no wonder. His beliefs were being tested. Again. I had not noticed him earlier in the afternoon when we had had our meet and greet with some of the students. At first they had been welcoming and curious about this trio of visitors - one an Asian lady, one a lady of mixed racial identity and the third a large black man. The warmth had evaporated somewhat when they discovered that two of their visitors were Muslims. Some, including the teachers, visibly shrank away.

After many general questions about our identities one finally piped up with the question. How did we (the Muslims) feel about not going to heaven? Well what can you say to a group of children between 7 and 16 years old when asked this question. We took a deep breath and tried to explain that there was enough room in heaven for us all to much shaking of heads and mutterings of "no, its a lie". "Who told you this?" we asked as their teachers disappeared further into their seats. Accusing fingers were pointed and pretty sharpish the ceremony was ended and we each went back to our own realities somewhat unsure of how to deal with the exchange we had just had. And then he stepped out of the shadows.

We moved closer into the darkness to afford him the privacy that he so craved as he had refused to step into the light for fear of being seen talking to us. He told us how he missed his brother and sister so much with such a sadness and melancholy that still brings tears to my eyes even as I write this after all this time (this is why I had been delaying). He said he was now resigned to his fate (or faith?) like a man destined for the gallows who had put up a good fight but had exhausted his defences. We offered words of encouragement. Told him he still had his whole life ahead of him he would not be in the camp forever. There was a big world out there filled with Muslims, Christians, Jews etc. We used ourselves as examples of what was possible. Marriages between faiths. All faiths working together to make a better world.

Finally when there was no more we could say we bid him goodbye and he slouched back into the shadows. He had a serene smile on his face as he left us. Almost as if to say he had overcome a major hurdle. As if we had given him some kind of hope. We had helped him with the struggle that his young mind had been trying to cope with. To understand. To interprete. No doubt he would have had a few restless nights as he tossed and turned trying to digest all that had happened that day.

We made our way back to our huts and to a fitful sleep again interrupted by the now familiar but no less unsettling wailing. The next morning we bade farewell to the camp and made our way back to the city in silence. As we got on the plane to head back to London I could not help but wonder about the crumbling difference between wrong and right.

This surreal life....

2008-07-02T22:46:00.004+01:00

We sit in a bar listening to a group murder several rock tunes. The group on stage consists of five half dressed girls and three guys. The lead boy singer and a couple of the girls sport dreads. The lead singer throws his around in true rock star fashion as he murders song after song and massacres several rap tunes just for good measure. At one point a girl performs a song by Evernescence that makes my colleague double check his glasses in case they have cracked such is the screeching she produces. Behind me a man sits sipping a pint of beer whilst chatting to his mate who is sucking on a fag. When the band takes a break (whoopee) we are then bombarded with gospel music over the speakers. One particular singer has a lot of love for Jesus and is not afraid to let the world know. Three vacant girls with vacant eyes and matching smiles sit at the bar nursing diet cokes and swaying to the music.

No this is not a night out in London or Lagos. My colleague and I on a day trip to Bahrain which for you that are not clued in on these matters is a Muslim country. I notice that the man behind me who is dressed in the full jalabia has his beads wrapped around his wrist and keeps glancing at his watch. I wonder if he is keeping an eye out for the call to prayer. Or the wife.

I learn later that come the weekend the place is really jumping as the Saudis pile in from across the border. In Saudi there are no bars, no drinking, no girls with vacant eyes and vacant smiles. No half naked singers or singers pouring out their love for Jesus. But this is available 45 minutes across the bridge. In Bahrain. The trick is to get there and back half sober. If one were to cause or be in an accident and be accosted by the law well things get pretty hairy. So the guys pace themselves and leave before the tipping point. Or spend the night. For some strange reason I feel at peace and as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. The world is not a perfect place and we are not perfect people. Live your life to the best you can and be prepared to give your side of the story when the questioning begins.

At the airport in Bahrain we are surrounded by a sea of black widows. No they are not all widows as some of them have their husbands, and children, in tow. But to my mind they are dressed as such. In a shop in the duty free area there is a woman dressed from top to toe in black. She is selling these outfits. It is a strange sight to see a retail clothes outlet where everything is black. The only differentiator being the decorative beading on the sleeves or around the ankles. Otherwise black. I imagine the amount of time that Iyawo could save if only she adopted this way of dressing. No more hours waiting by the front door while she decides what to wear. Black again tonight darling? Lovely. No, no. The one with the red beading is fine. It matches my eyes.

Around the concourse at Dubai airport there are a large number of Indians and Pakistanis on both sides of the divide. There are just as many arriving as are departing. These are the worker ants for the numerous building sites in Dubai. Everywhere you turn there is a crane putting up another skyscraper. My colleague informs me that Dubai is now the proud home to 35% of the world's building cranes. It is hard to miss them. Skyscraper after skyscraper. Crane after crane. New block after new block. All trying to outdo themselves. Dubai should be the 8th wonder of the world. It has the world's tallest building. The only 7 star hotel. The only mall in the world with a ski slope. It is building an underwater hotel. It has built a replica of the world out of man made islands in the ocean. People have bought these islands. It is now building "The Universe" out in the ocean.

Around the hotel there are huge skyscraper apartments. Underneath are retail outlets. The usual suspects. Fast food, clothes etc. In these blocks at night you are lucky if you can count more than a dozen apartments with lights on. Out of maybe two hundred flats. You see there are no inhabitants. Most of them lie empty. They were bought as investments. The rent is unbelievable. Five thousand dollars per month for a three bed flat. The place is a ghost town. Yet still they build. Apparently the oil will run out in 10 years. And they are afraid that they will be forgotten. They do not want to be forgotten. So they do things to make sure they are not forgotten. Like recreating another Las Vegas in another desert.

I walk down to the beach behind the hotel to clear my head. It is practically deserted. Most locals have skipped the country. Outside temperature is hovering around 49 degrees. Who can blame them? The only people on the beach are a few Indians crouching in the sand and staring into the far distance. I wonder if they dream of home and the families left behind. They are not allowed to bring their families with them here until they earn above a certain amount monthly. Which the greater majority of them never do. Also a few elderly tourists. They look German. I notice towels on the deckchairs (sorry I could not resist).

After staring out to sea myself for some time I turn around and get the very strange feeling that I am on a film set. Like those sets they create in Hollywood for films like King Kong where everything is out of proportion. I feel like one of those plastic action heroes. Staring me in the face are rows of huge empty skyscrapers. All trying to outdo each other. They are immaculate. They are silent. They are surreal.

Outside its America.........

2008-06-06T17:04:00.005+01:00

In the howlin' wind

Comes a stingin' rain

See it drivin' nails

Into the souls on the tree of pain.

Bullet the Blue Sky - U2

The trip had started bizarrely. Having taken the BA flight from Lagos at midnight and arrived in London in the early hours of the morning only to jump on to the BA flight to DC you could excuse me for being confused and discombobulated. See what happened was that the plane started taxiing and seemed to continue taxiing for a very long time. I was keep tracking of the engine sounds as I always do and waiting for the nose to lift before I could let out my customary deep breath. But no. Not this time.The taxiing seemed to go on and on. And on. Surely we must have run out of runway by now I thought to myself expecting us to go careering into some poor sods semi in Feltham any minute. And still I waited. It was only after a good ten minutes that I twigged that we were already in the air having taken off so smoothly I had thought we were still on ground. This was a new one for me but as I say maybe it was because I was tired.

We landed with a bang in DC and proceeded into the main hall where the ever efficient, super diligent, ever so observant and welcoming Dept of Homeland Security welcomed us into God's own country. Look my philosophy of life is very simple. Any person that has a 45 Magnum strapped to their waist can talk to me anyway they like. For as long as they like. Anytime. Left index finger in, right index finger out do the hokey cokey and spin it all around. No problem.

An hour later I was sitting in a taxi on the way to the hotel. Two things struck me on the journey. Luckily one of them was not the central reservation. Let me explain. My driver spent a lot of the time sending and receiving texts, yes while driving, and so it was that one point we were headed with full force towards the motorway divider until my violent coughing and clearing of throat brought it to his attention. Experience has taught me that swearing at people in America is not to be recommended as any Tom, Dick or Dirty Harry can whip out said 45 and before you know it the Alfas have to be gathered if you get my drift. The second thing was the violent manner in which he used his horn. I had thought that American cars only had horns installed for decoration and to ensure that an unsightly hole was not left in the steering wheel but this chap certainly knew how to use it. He was a homie so maybe that explains it.

DC is one of the greenest places I have ever been to and looking down from the bridge into the Potomac brings a lump to the throat. After three days of conferencing and being stuck in a hotel I finally got the chance to take in the sights - the White House, the Pentagon, The War Memorial? Nope. Straight to the Pentagon Mall to indulge in that good old Naija custom. Shopping for necessities which you can also get at home if you are prepared to pay double. After all its not like those monuments are going anywhere but have you seen how much they sell muesli at Shoprite? And where does one get reading materials for those long nights trapped behind our burglar proof gates?. I beg priorities, priorities.

The weather was at times extreme with bright sunny days disappearing into sullen, dark thunderstorms. At one point there was talk of a tornado hitting the town (and I'm not talking about Hilary, of whom more later). I strolled along sidewalks so clean I wondered why I had bothered to book a hotel. The vibe was good. The air was clean. I walked for miles lost in my own reverie. Iyawo has been going on about quality of life for some time now and I see what she means. The simple act of being able to walk without fear of being run over, on the sidewalk, or molested by any number of miscreants, is that not one of the fundamental human rights? If not then it should be.

The rest of the time I spent cowering in my room engrossed in their Cable TV (67 channels and nothing on - Bruce Springsteen). It was dominated by the Obama\Clinton docu drama. Oh what riveting television. On the one hand you have the masculine, tough talking, dominant, aggresive, manipulative candidate. And on the other hand Obama. Oh Hillary go home. The game is over. Accept defeat graciously. Write a book. Sort out your finances. You are in big debt baby. After realising, but not accepting defeat Hillary asked her 18 million supporters to contact her via email at her website to tell her what to do. Huh? And oh by the way leave a little sumthing, sumthing donation to help feed Bill and Chelsea. Oh how I laughed. Is she implying that she needs 18 million people to tell her the obvious? Ok please allow me to get the ball rolling.

Hillary you fought a tough and dirty battle. You threw everything you had into the fight. You lost. Go home. Get a grip. Obama owes you nowt. The choice of his VP is his. Not yours. Not conceding is bad behaviour but typical and expected. If he has any sense he will steer well clear. Bill however needs you. Apparently he has been getting Monica'd by various "campaign supporters" across the nation according to Vanity Fair. He obviously needs you close by his side. Very close.

Anyway back to the outside world as I head to the airport I am struck by the silence, the serenity, the sense of order, decorum, decency. The cabbie tells me that things changed after the ousting of Mayor "I swear I did not snort that white powder. It was the devil." Berry. The place is more secure, the neighbourhoods cleaner, house prices through the roof, great restaurants, sense of community. All this is due to a change to "The Management"? Surely this is the way it should be. Could be. Will be? in Naija. Soon? Ever?

Through the alleys of a quiet city street.

Up the staircase to the first floor

We turn the key and slowly unlock the door

As a man breathes into his saxophone

And through the walls you hear the city groan.

Outside, is America

America.

Bullet the Blue Sky. U2

And so it goes...........

My mother swore.

2008-05-29T20:11:00.003Z

So apologies for the silence but the wheels have been spinning and rubber has been burning and life has been moving at the speed of light. What? Another week gone by? You don't say. So much has been happening, is happening, was happening.

However this post is all about my mother. It all started with the death of one of her best friends as detailed in my previous post. The fact that this lovely lady was younger did not help matters. Bad enough when you are at death's doorstep at 72 but when 68 year olds are leaving you behind well it preys on the mind. And it has been preying on hers. So much so that she has been quite poorly. However this is not a shout out for sympathy.

Last week after knowing her for some 40 odd years I heard my mother swear and cuss for the first time ever. The reason for this was understandable. It was that old foe NEPA. Having been deprived of electricity for weeks and with both generators having decided to give up the ghost together she found herself having to sit out on the balcony all day just to breathe. Maybe it was unfortunate that I chose this very time to call her to check on her wellbeing. It was then that she swore. The dam broke. The years of quiet middle class respectability went out the window.

To be frank it was quite scary. It was only one line but still it was like a blow to the solar plexus. It was like I was speaking to a stranger. As is my wont I have spent a long time deliberating about this outburst and to be honest with you I am scared. Not for her. She will be alright Insha Allah. But for me. For my children. It seems so long ago we would be sitting in front of NTA and then all would go dark. "Ahh NEPA" we would all scream as we scrambled around for candles and torches and made our way outside to play various games or tell scary tales. We would also catch crickets and roast them as a snack. This is all a good thrity years ago!! Thirty years and yet here we are with my mother sitting on the balcony sweating because NEPA has struck again? After thirty years? Nothing has changed?

So I pictured myself thirty years from now. In the twilight of my years. Is this the fate that awaits me? Will my children phone me only to hear me cussing out the bastards that run NEPA \ the Government whilst I sit sweltering and bloated from the heat on the verandah of my home sucking in fumes from slow moving traffic? I feel ashamed. I feel I should have done more. I feel I should do more.I must do more to make sure it does not happen.

But what can I do?

Goodbye Aunty

2008-05-05T08:02:00.002Z

My aunty, Mrs Jade Akande, passed away suddenly last week in her sleep. Her death hit me very hard but not as hard as my mother who is trying to be strong but we can tell that her emotions are boiling beneath the surface. What made my aunty special to me was not all that she accomplished but the humility and grace that she retained till the very end.

I now regret my procrastination in telling her something that I had wanted to tell her for some years. How proud I was of her. How she motivated me without knowing it. How I was in awe of her. How I became dumbstruck every time I was around her even though she was the most comfortable person to be around.

When I read about her organising the march for mothers following the Sosolido crash I was so proud but not surprised. She was one of those people that do rather than talk about doing. When planning my return to Nigeria one of the things I promised myself to do was to tell her to her face how proud I was when I heard about the March. But alas it was not meant to be.

I also wanted to ask her to be my mentor. To show me the way in making things better for others as she had done. Now I will have to find my own way. My own causes to fight. In her name. To honour her and to let her know it was not in vain. To let her know she left some torchbearers behind. I am sure I am not the only one.

Rest In Peace Aunty. May God be with you always.

Goodnight Entebbe.

2008-04-11T09:26:00.004Z

The last thing you want to see. The absolute last thing. Let me be quite clear on this. THE VERY LAST THING YOU WANT TO SEE when coming in to land at an airport is the wreckage of a plane crash. This unfortunately is what welcomed us to Entebbe Airport in Uganda. This was the first thing that haunted me on the trip but it was not to be the last.

Considering I was already freaked out by the plane and crew that BA had provided for the trip this sight did nothing to calm my nerves. I suspect both the BA plane and crew had been pulled out of retirement for the sole purpose of delivering us to Entebbe. I'm not saying they were old but some of them were using the trolleys like zimmer frames (the crew that is). As for the plane.... well Insha Allah we took off and landed. Nuff said.

We were in Uganda to visit a charity that was set up to provide education to orphans (of which there are a lot due to the ravages of AIDS. We went through village after village where we would see children running around but no parents or at best only their grandparents). The charity itself was setup way outside Entebbe in a different town so we had a fair bit if travelling to do. We spent the first night in a hotel to acclimatise and then set off on the long journey.... to Shoprite. Yup Shoprite, where we bought various supplies and gifts for the kids. I should have stocked up on water and loo paper but more on that later.

The journey to the site of the charity was long and tortuous. On the way out of town I was actually quite amused to see the amount of activity going on in Entebbe itself. When I enquired why, I was informed that it was in anticipation of the Queen's arrival the following week for the Commonwealth Conference. Funny how governments can always find the money to spruce up the environment when dignitaries and more importantly TV cameras are expected. The streets were swept clean, the street lights fixed, not a single pothole in sight, government buildings painted, the works.

We arrived at the site and were overwhelmed by the welcome of the children. It was truly heartwarming and it was obvious some of them had not been this close to two Oyinbo ladies (Iyawo and a friend) and an extremely good looking chap (lol) for some time, if ever. This was the highpoint of the trip for me. If only I had known that then.

We were treated to a lovely but basic meal of rice and stew and also shown around the sprawling site which had started off as one building and had grown through donations into a nice little camp. We were especially impressed with the meticulous neatness of the kid's dormitories that even though they had to accommodate four kids to a room were immaculate. I silently wondered what the secret was. At dinner we were treated to a more formal welcome by the whole camp and were made to feel like stars (what with being on stage under bright lights,video cameras etc). Then it was time to retire for the night as we had a full schedule for the next day. We made our way to our two room guest shack (with sanitary bucket!) to settle down for the night. Being in the middle of nowhere there was no electricity so at 10pm it was lights out as the generator had to rest.

You will notice that I mentioned water and loo roll in one of the earlier paragraphs and then mentioned that we were fed on our arrival at the camp - twice. I also mentioned that there was a bucket in the shack for number ones. So this leads me on to a brief discussion of my scatological history. See I am as regular as clockwork. Rolex or Timex ain't got nothing on me. After breakfast. I go. After lunch. I go. After dinner. See you. Sometimes I even manage squeeze in a visit between those three. I am one of the unrecognised wonders of the world in that regard. So imagine my surprise to find that the camp could only offer basic amenities. Basically a hole in the ground in a hut on the camp's perimeter with little to no ventilation and flies, rats and other vermin as tourists and guests of the intrepid visitor. I mention all this for a specific reason so please bear with me.

I am not sure who woke up first -Iyawo or I, but it was clear that all was not well. We were hearing the most blood curdling screaming and wailing I have ever heard or hope to hear. Combine this with bursting bowels, a loo that was miles away and the overwhelming gloom of the darkness and you could perhaps understand how this was the second thing to haunt me.

Unfortunately it was not to be the worst. Or last.

To be continued.

The National Treasure.

2008-03-21T15:47:00.003Z

So last weekend in my endless quest to give my kids the "Nigerian experience" (cue moaning and long sighs from back of car) I dragged them off to the National Theatre to show them around. We were lucky as there was nothing happening that day so it was deserted. We were even more lucky to come across one of the theatre's staff who gave us a guided tour of this spectacular but now crumbling edifice.

I was overwhelmed with nostalgia as I used to go and visit the theatre during my hols from school in the States and I vividly remember seeing Third World perform there. Coincidentally Iyawo was at the same show so it would appear she has been stalking me for some time.

As we wandered around this magnificent edifice it was heart breaking to see the state it had been allowed to fall into. The main hall where the shows were held was now a rotting carcass with so any holes in the roof that apparently when it rained outside it might as well have been raining inside. All the electrics had packed up, the electric moving stage was now totally incapacitated and the seats were either broken or the fabric had rotted off them. We had to tread carefully as some of the floorboards had rotted through and one wrong step......

In spite of this it was still breathtaking. Apparently it is spread over 7 floors!! and has several hundred restrooms. Iyawo was very taken (and was keen to take) with some of the beautiful and so solid carved wooden doors that were now literally hanging by a screw or a hinge.

As we went through the wide corridors, up and down the stairs and enjoyed the spectacular views of the neighbouring landscape through one of the balconies of the higher floors the guard continued to fill us in with the history of the place. Apparently it had been built by some Belgians in exchange for oil as we did not have the money to pay them in hard currency. It has its own Police station and Post Office and is located in the exact centre of Lagos to allow equal access from all corners of the state.

However due to a long running dispute between Lagos State and the Federal government over who owned it and who was responsible for maintainance it had been allowed to slowly fall into total disrepair. The good news is that a new administrator has been appointed to start reviving it and already there are some signs of work in progress. Some of the conference rooms are now being rented out for shows (the Vagina Monologues was staged there last week) , weddings and conferences and there apparently is a plan to bring the whole thing back to its previous glory. With its grounds, its vibe, the architecture and the feel of the place it could and should be one of the main tourist sites in Africa. I look forward to that day.

So if you ever have the chance I urge you to visit this piece of national treasure just to have a good look around. The architecture is still very stunning and some of the design effects are just spectacular.

Next week - The National Stadium. These kids will get the Nigerian Experience even if it kills me.

Oh there may be trouble ahead...

2008-03-09T22:55:00.002Z

Oh my people.The time has come. The truth has come home to roost. The bird has flown the coop and other such alarmist phrases. As usual it started with the words every father learns to dread . "Dad we need to talk!!" our Eldest Daughter said in a manner that made it clear we were going to exchange more than pleasantries. My first action is to drag Iyawo somewhere private so she can give me the low down so I can determine if my heart (and wallet) will be able to handle the upcoming conversation. This time both would be greatly affected.

She wants to go clubbing with her friends, Iyawo confided nonchalantly. Now you know I love the woman but her oyinbo upbringing has totally ruined her. Clubbing ke? But she is not 24-25 years old yet as we had previously discussed? You know, when she was born? I enquired weakly. I mean the girl is only 15. She still has a good 10 years and several degrees to go before she can start going clubbing. I absolutely refuse and that is the last I want to hear of it.Clubbing ko.Clubbing ni. Nonsense and ingredient. End of story. Finito. Don't try me oh. No more discussion about the matter. Full stop.

And so it was that I waved her goodbye last Saturday as she made her way out clubbing with her mates. A collection of expats and locals all with car and driver at their beck and call. I tried to tell her that in my day but ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. Not interested in the middle ages apparently. She already takes history at school.

So from me some final strict warnings:
Make sure you keep that phone on.
Make sure you text me every 15 minutes.
Make sure there is no smoking , drinking or bad behaviour.
Make sure you only go to one place and stay there.
Make sure if any man with a MOPOL escort tries to talk to you you shout "EFCC".

Actually maybe I should come with you I pleaded clinging on to her hem. She managed to brush me off after relieving me of several thousand Naira in the bargain.

Chei man dey suffer oh. I am outnumbered now. It is just me against these four women in the house. So what chance do I have? My son is not old enough yet to fight on my side and is prone to change allegiances at the mention of the word - doughnut.

So what is a father to do? Should I be letting her go clubbing in Lagos filled as it is with armed robbers, drink drivers, trigger happy cops and worst of all lecherous politicians? Or should I just do as she says and chillax (whatever that means).

Oh there may be trouble ahead..

Travelogue..............

2008-03-07T16:53:00.001Z

Things have been hectic the last few weeks with two trips to London and and three days in JoBurg. All work related. Trust me, those that have to go through it understand. It is not as glamorous as it all sounds. So sitting here in our office in Berkshire with my head spinning I try to make sense of it all. So much has happened and I am sure there is so much to follow.

In no particular order – armed robbers on our doorsteps (well four doors down) last night. This is the call from Iyawo I dread the most when I am away from home. Thank God they kept their activities short and sweet. I wonder though how this has happened. Anyone who has been to Lekki recently will notice the number of brand new Jeeps (donated by the Lagos Government to the Rapid Response Team) rolling around, especially by the entrance to the Phase 1 gate and yet these madmen, desperadoes, call them what you like managed to come in and get out. It seems that shooting in the air is all that is required to clear the streets, the town, the city. I know for a fact that the Governor has been very focussed on the security situation in Lagos and whilst it has improved there are still too many of this type stories.

As predicted MYA gets to retain the Presidency. Anything else would have been lunacy and would have seriously set us back. The fact of the matter is that there would have been no point in re-running the elections with the same processes and procedures in place. So whilst it might have not been a big step for democracy, it certainly was for common sense. Something that has been lacking in our country for some time. Abi no be so?

NEPA continues to be the bane of our lives. We are still using up a 160 litre tank over a three day period as we are lucky to get 12 hours in a stretch. Sometime we can lose electricity three to four times an hour. What absolute madness and chaos. Here we are in 2008. The President has apparently gone to China to discuss this issue with them specifically. So please don’t be surprised that coming soon to a transmitter near you will be a whole bunch of Chinese worker ants who will strip down the whole infrastructure and recreate a newer, better model in no time. All the while speaking loudly and spitting on the ground after every sentence. I assume such a project will gulp ( I love that word) billions.

We arrive in the comedy club in JoBurg just as the man on stage goes into a dialogue about Nigerians and their overwhelming influence on the South African landscape. You know that when we land, man mi, we LAND. Comedian after comedian lamented about life in a mini Nigerian society. Oh how we laughed (nervously at some points) as some of the crowd were not exactly enamoured of our “influence”. It seems the women of SA are no longer safe. They are being attacked every day by strangers in luxury cars having the audacity to wave wads (of notes) in their faces and offer all sorts of outrageous things. Like stays at luxurious hotels. Per hour.

A man coming off the plane at Heathrow is apoplectic that the Custom’s agent has the audacity to touch him and ask for his passport. He waves his British passport around said agent’s face reminding him that they are both British. The agent takes him aside and I am sure quietly explains to him that there is British and then there is ……. Oh well I am sure they will agree to disagree.

Meanwhile on the same flight a man is checking his text messages on take off and when I point out that whilst I am quite prepared for him to put his own life at risk mine is worth far more than the text message. He gives me a scowl and grudgingly “switches” it off and stores it in the overhead locker. Said phone then rings continuously immediately we enter British airspace. He refuses to meet my steady gaze.

Sorry if this seems random and listless. This is one of the side effects of constant travel. Meanwhile I just want to get him to my wife, my kids, my bed, my Lagos. I miss them all so. On that note a weary traveller bids you farewell.

Dancing in the Dark...

2008-03-01T08:46:00.002Z

I get up in the evening
and I ain't got nothing to say
I come home in the morning
I go to bed feeling the same way
I ain't nothing but tired
Man I'm just tired and bored with myself
Hey there baby, I could use just a little help

You can't start a fire
You can't start a fire without a spark
This gun's for hire even
if we're just dancing in the dark

Message keeps getting clearer
radio's on and I'm moving 'round the place
I check my look in the mirror
I wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face
Man I ain't getting nowhere
I'm just living in a dump like this
There's something happening somewhere
baby I just know that there is

You can't start a fire
you can't start a fire without a spark
This gun's for hire
even if we're just dancing in the dark

You sit around getting older
there's a joke here somewhere and it's on me
I'll shake this world off my shoulders
come on baby this laugh's on me

You can't start a fire
you can't start a fire without a spark
This gun's for hire
even if we're just dancing in the dark

Bruce Springsteen.

Putting out the pyre with Gasoline?

2008-02-25T07:41:00.002Z

In less than 48 hours we will reach a tipping point in the history of Nigeria. It is on Tuesday when a decision will be made as to whether our President was indeed Duly elected or unduly selected. My mole tells me they are sleepless not only in Seattle but in Abuja and throughout the nation where the convoys of five serving Governors are going to be asked to pull over to the kerb in the near future.

In the meantime the Senate President has been asked to vacate his seat due to the questions raised with regards his election. He has promised to appeal which should be interesting because I cannot recall any of the previous reversals having been reversed, if you get my meaning. My mole tells me that we are now at a stage where even Ghana must go has refused to go. Left, right and centre people (the Judiciary) are suddenly saying that they are no longer for sale to the highest bidder. Now when people say see you in court it is the second sign of the beginning of wisdom. Fear of the EFCC being the first. On the subject of the EFCC apparently all of us that were crying in our tea at the removal of Ribadu and those celebrating ain't seen nothing yet. It would appear his replacement is even more committed to the cause. So again no place to hide. I mean what fun is there left in being a Governor these days?

Apparently Baba himself is not going to escape, like scott and free. His cross is being put together in the background waiting to make its own appearance. Na wa oh.

What is one to make of all this? Is it really a sign that democracy is starting to gain traction? Are the area boys really going to start to see that there is only so far that thuggery and theft will get you? Does this mean that the right people (qualified candidates, with real ideas, programmes and policies) for the job will actually start to materialise safe in the knowledge that when the votes are counted they actually stand a fair chance? Of course this is Nigeria and it is far too early to get carried away but all the signs are good.

So on Tuesday the President of Nigeria will learn whether his position is valid or not. He could be asked to vacate the office and knowing him and his love of due process as well as his reluctance to take on the job in the first place I would not be surprised if he has already packed and booked a charter holiday to the Gambia. Seriously, does it make sense for the President to be asked to leave now? What does this mean for democracy? For Nigeria? For you and me? What happens next? Another election? What if someone else wins? Would he reverse all the decisions MYA has made since coming into office? How can Iwu continue in office if all these electoral irregularities keep surfacing and getting reversed?

Meanwhile, the pyre is already lit. In the coming hours we will find out if the flames will be doused with water safely or will it be further doused in gasoline (imported of course. Sorry I could not resist).

The Chinese takeway

2008-02-22T02:58:00.005Z

So it was on to London last week as the kids celebrated their school half term with their long missed friends and I carried on with the arduous task of earning a living. I normally do not get Sundays in London but this time I was lucky enough to be able to so. One of the great joys of Sundays in England for me has always been the opportunity to wake up, roll out of bed, pick up the Sunday Times and then dwell on it for the rest of day. Over breakfast, lunch,dinner, Monday, Tuesday....you get the drift.

Actually I remember back in the day when I would stop off at the corner of Marble Arch in front of the Cumberland Hotel at 3 or 4am, depending on how great the nightclub had been, to pick up the Times and the News of the World. Does anyone remember Gullivers, ThePark in Kensington, Roxys diner off Regent's Street where a group of us would pile into after a night on the tiles? I would get home just as dawn was breaking and would firstly delve into all the sleaze of the NOTW before finally drifitng off into a peaceful slumber from which I would wake and then take my time over the Times.

Anyway last week I bought the paper and the girls and I then headed over to Starbucks which is where I choked on my Chai Tea Latte. I usually read the Times magazine first and it was there that I saw a picture that troubled me to my very core. In an article about the Chinese invasion of Africa was a picture of a Chinaman who apparently owns the big Chinese restaurant in Ikoyi. He is shown standing in a sand filled area which looks like it is being prepared for new houses to be built. But this was not the cause of my high BP. Standing next to him was a member of the Nigerian Police Force in full uniform and carrying a rifle. He is also at the same time carrying an umbrella which he is holding over the head of the Chinaman protecting him from the sun. (Iyawo has just walked in and seen the magazine lying open next to me. WTF is he doing holding an umbrella over his head? she asks. So I am not the only one that feels offended by the picture.

On the opposite page is another photograph which depicts his wife entertaining members of the Senate in their restaurant. From the look on some of their faces they have never eaten Chinese food before. Wonder if they had to pay for their meal or did they just grant our friends from the East a few concessions? Wonder if a Chinese Police officer will hold an umbrella over their heads when they pay their next "diplomatic or fact finding mission" to China, via Dubai of course.

On the Lekki Expressway the Chinese Hotel is nearing completion. Apparently Nigeria is not the only country in Africa to benefit from the generosity of the Chinese. It seems that Africa as a whole has been targeted. Various Chinese dignitaries have done roadshows \campaigns where they have left behind billions of Yen in investments. Some say that this is a good thing for the continent. I am not so sure. In my admitedly limited experience the Chinese are one of the most racist people I have ever come across so I find it more than slightly uncomfortable with their "generosity" bearing in mind their growing population and need for Energy and other resources that are naturally found in "dark continent".

What do you think?

I'm for the high jump

2008-02-01T12:46:00.000Z

We lived on Adeniran Ogunsanya at the time. We lived directly across frpm the street that leads to Jalupon close which is where I used to go for my lessons every afternoon after school. As Jalupon of those days also had a huge grass island in the middle it also afforeded the opportunity for a quick kickabout before heading home.

On this streeet leading to Jalupon I would pass a house with a vicious dog (bear in mind that as a Yoruba man all dogs are vicious in my dictionary) which would snarl and bark and growl at everyone whether you were passing in front of the gate or on the other side of the street. As I knew that the gate of the house was locked I would sometimes have a little fun with the "nice doggie". I would saunter up to the gate (or as close to it as my nerves could stand ) and torment it by dragging my shoes on the street which would make it go insane. I could not see the dog but I could hear it clawing at the gate. I just imagined that it's eyes would be red and it would be foaming at the mouth. . Having exhasuted myself and alsomt wet myself with laughter at the dog's frustration I would then be on my way.

The day in question -"let's call it the day Toks would have qualified to do the high jump for any country in the world and also set a new world record"- I had played football to my heart's content as the lesson teacher had left early. There was no reason to rush home after all what my mum did not know would never hurt her (see I am considerate like that). I had washed the football down with a Gala and a nice slice of Walls Vanilla ice cream and was dragging my happy self home when I deicded that the perfect way to cap the day would be to visit my old friend.

So I crossed the road (see I actually had to make an effort) to reach the house and then started my foot dragging routine. This time, high on pork and whatever chemicals go into Walls Ice cream I even started to make growling noises to mimic the dog. I could hear it racing out from wherever it was kept and charging towards the gate. As it started barking people started to cross the street as it sounded so ferpcious. By this time I had my head in the air pretending to be a wolf and howling an echo to the dog's every bark. The dog ran upto the gate and slammed into it as it was running with such force. I could hear it clawing at the chain holding the gates together.

Shorlty thereafter, out of the corner of my left eye I saw the expression on people's faces start to change and then out of the corner of my right eye I saw the gates of the house seem to be opening a lot more than I remembered from previous occassions. As it opened fraction by fraction a switch somewhere in my brain clicked on and sent a message to my feet that "hey guys we need to get this idiot outof here and quick". And so it was like the cartoon as my feet took off whilst therest ofmy body was still registering what was happening. By now the gate was wide open enough for even my ice cream filled belly to register that the dog could get out. More importantly it would appear that the dog had come to the same conclusion.

As with all potential tragedies this was all happening in slow motion. Toks sees dog coming towards him. Tok's feet take off. Rest of Tok's body including his brain soon follow. See Toks fly down street. See Toks lose slippers. See Toks overtake cars. See Toks navigate Adeniran Ogunsanya - a busy road- even back then- without even stopping to look. See Toks place left foot on botton rung of bars on his gate. See Toks swing himself over top bar of gate narrowly avoiding injury which would have put end to the family line. See Toks land on other side of gate still with school bag over his shoulder but minus slippers or breath. See dog stand outside Toks gate growling for few minutes before returning to devour Toks slippers. See Toks armpits not only part of his outfit stained.

Five minutes later Tok's long suffering mother opens the door for her precious son:

Mums -Toks how was lesson today?

Toks: Just fine.

Mums- Why are you sweating so?

Toks: Oh no reason.

Mums- Where are your slippers?

Toks: A dog chased me and I lost them?

Mums- A dog chased you? What did you do?

Toks: (Looking innoicent as the day is long) Me? Do? Nothing oh, I was just walking home minding my own business. The dog must have been mental.

Mums - Pele oh my son. Come let me give you cake and fanta.

See how I protect that woman from worry and the harsh relaities of life?

The Yankee. The Doodle. The Dandy. Pt. 1

2008-01-23T05:11:00.000Z

Having lived there for 13 years it is always bitter sweet to return to the US of A. I remember all the good times I had there, growing up, my first job (dishwasher), my first real girlfriend (by that I mean genuine not as in plastic vs. real), endless clubbing with my friends, marathon drives from Tennessee to Houston Texas just to party etc. But there were also the downs - lack of funds, lack of family , loneliness etc.

We arrive at Newark to be met by the now accepted unwelcome frowns from our friends at Homeland Security. Ever since 9/11 these guys have lost any sense of humour or politeness that they had. Iyawo having travelled six hours from Nigeria to get on the flight was less than impressed and had to be coerced into not giving too much attitude to the chap behind the counter who was examining us like bacteria in a petri dish. Oga what’s my own? My papers are correct and if you don’t want me in ya country I am very happy to go back to mine. I heard your economy was in distress and Iyawo and I are just here to do our bit to prop it up. If ya don’t want my help just let me know and I will carry my wahala back to Shoprite jare. He must have read my mind as he graciously let us in.

By now it was 1am in the morning so it was straight to the hotel in Manhattan for some R&R to prepare for the work ahead. Being on the 21st floor of a 46 floor hotel you cannot help but be impressed with this town. All around you are surrounded by enormous skyscrapers both Commercial and Residential. What must it be like to work or live on the 60th floor or 100th floor of a building? Does it sway in the wind? Do you get vertigo? What happens if the lift fails? These questions filled my mind all throughout the night along with visions of waffles and pancakes the size of spaceships.

New York is the only place where I can walk for miles without even thinking about it. It is always a joy to be able to throw on the trainers and just go regardless of the time. It is such a safe place now (Manhattan anyway) that we were often to be found heading for Starbucks at 4 am in the morning to satisfy my addiction for Chai Tea Latte and Iyawo’s coffee. In Naija I struggles to walk half a block to the supermarket down the road for fear of okadas, area boys, but most importantly loose pavements. I have this paranoia that one will collapse under me and I will end up in the gutter sucking on green slime and wee.

For the next few days we wandered the streets of Manhattan boosting the economy as we went. However, we were not alone. The place was crawling with Brits and Irish as you can imagine. The exchange rate is just too good and the flight from London only cost £260 return!! In between shopping trips to Jersey and all corners of Manhattan we managed to fit in some culture by going to see The Colour Purple starring Chaka Khan. It was a great show and even more impressive to me was getting the tickets for $25 each for front row seats when I had been expecting to pay upwards of $100!!

I also managed to fulfil my other pastime in life of watching films although all three turned out to be huge disappointments. When I lived in the US I would sometimes watch between 6-10 films over a weekend if I was not working. I would simply enter the cinema complex in the morning and go from film to film over the two days. Those were the days.

First we saw I Am Boring (I mean I Am Legend). I can only assume that Iyawo wanted to see this just so she could watch the 10 second shot of Will Smith doing chin ups half naked. I could have bought myself one of those six pack costumes and done the same for free but there you go. I mean what was the point of this film? The next day - to make up for it - she then dragged me to see another film whose name I cannot even remember ( I think psychologically I am trying to block out the fact that there went another two hours of my life I will never recover). It was somehow akin to the Blair witch project and involved some alien creature taking over Manhattan and this group of people who just happened to have been videoing a birthday party capturing it all on tape. What a yawn. It was meant to be a horror story and trust me it was - a horror.

Finally it was my turn. I had been reading and seeing reviews of the Daniel Day Lewis film “There will be blood” which intimated that it was film of the year, his best performance etc etc. Nearly three hours later we both came out of the cinema saying WTF was that? I mean what was the point? Am I missing something? My recommendation would be to wait for the video if you have to see it at all. Besides some comic moments it was dire. IMHO.

I cannot fail to mention the food. Oh my goodness. It really is difficult to describe American food portions until you experience it yourself. They are just enormous. We mistakenly ordered a standard pizza ( we should have taken the hint as the menu also offered the option of ordering by the slice) and we ended up leaving most of it in the hotel fridge despite doing our best to demolish it. I could only manage two and a half slices despite ravenous hunger (must have been all the walking) which goes to show you how big the thing was. We went to one diner where they were serving ham sandwiches where they might as well have taken a pig, cooked it and then stuck it whole between two slices of bread.! Conversely every other advert on the TV is selling you some product or other telling you how to lose weight. What about cutting down on the portions?

In the meantime I was keeping an eye on the elections on TV. What drama. All the posing, the advisors, the commentators, the candidates, the confused voters. Now this is entertainment. I will blog on US politics and TV next.

And finally I got my hands on the ultimate boy’s toy - an iPhone. And yes it is working in Nigeria. It also worked in the UK and cost me half the price of the UK version and I did not have to sign up for 18 months ripoff subscription. And yes it is a beauty and capped off the trip nicely. And how was your week?

Good ole blighty.

2008-01-11T19:35:00.000Z

I arrive at the car rental desk to be greeted by a Polish lady who takes my booking and points me in the direction of the bus that will take me to the car park. The bus arrives and a burly Polish chap helps me with my cases and drives me to the park where another Polish chap, slightly younger, points out the bay where my car is parked. I head to the gate where an old wisened Polish chap checks my paperwork and sends me on my merry way.

I arrive at the hotel where the Polish girl in reception struggles to pronounce my name whilst I don't even attempt to pronounce hers. I did not realise it was possible to have so many Ks, Js and Cs in one name. The Polish concierge takes my bags to my room and seems genuinely happy with his tip. Feeling famished, I order room service where another Polish girl takes my order and the food is delivered by a slightly effeminate Polish boy. In the morning I make my way out of the room and stumble across the Polish cleaners who wish me a good day as I make my way to work.

God it's great to be back in London.

The MANAGEMENT (hence the picture)

2008-01-11T19:27:00.000Z

Iyawo wakes me up from a restless slumber with the dreaded words no one wants to hear when they are several thousand miles away “ there is a leak coming from the wall outside the kitchen”. Those who know me know that minor irritations or house stuff like this is not my forte. (I sleep through potential armed robberies remember?) .

Immediately my mind springs into action despite lack of sleep ( I am currently in the hottest hotel in the western universe. Even with the window open I swelter through the night.). So you will please excuse the first question that springs out of my mouth. “Has it been raining?”. Silence. Duh. Of course if it had been raining the whole wall would be wet abi no be so? Look I said I was tired and half asleep when she rang and I am smart in other ways otherwise she would leave me.

We then went through a more sensible list of possibilities and ended up deciding that we needed to get the plumber in. Yesterday it was the gate that refused to open or close hence voiding the whole security thing (note to readers – I do not feel great to be abroad knowing that the only defence between my family and danger is MOE.) The day before that it was the generator.

This leads me on to the real subject of today’s blog. Daily life in Naija is hard oh (note to Anonymous – this is an observation rather than a complaint so down your pen jo). Day after day is filled with MANAGEMENT. Here is a short list of the things that you need to watch and manage just inside your house. There is a whole other list for outside:

Power surges which make your light bulbs go ping and sometimes set fire to your house.
Low current – which makes everything dull, drives your stabiliser wild and eventually fries your Plasma screen and melts all the ice cream in the fridge (screw the goat meat darling just save the Ben & Jerrys).
Generator issues – when you are using something that is built for casual use and backup almost on a constant basis you should expect problems. Every few days.
Diesel – to go and buy or get it delivered? If delivered how do you know the meeting is working? Who keeps an eye on the delivery? What if they just pump air into the tank? When it was empty the first time they came to fill it and it took 160 litres. I recently received a bill showing fillings of 185 and 190 litres. I wonder where they put the extra?
Water issues – ours comes out a lovely brown from the tap – if it comes at all. Lovely for the skin if you don’t mind the smell.
Aircons – it is so bloody hot they have to be left on all the time- end result constant service or replacement. Or swelter. Again great for the skin if you don’t mind the migraines.
Security – who is keeping an eye on things whilst the boys are asleep? Wait a minute, where are the boys?
Staff – I am sure that I left N10k on the dressing table but now there is only N9k or am I just going mad?
Driver – someone has moved this seat? Is he using the car for kabu kabu when he is on is own? Why is the petrol tank empty again?
Iyawo – why is she phoning me at 8am in London to tell me there is a leak in the house in Lagos?

It is damned exhausting keeping up I tell you. I have more mechanics, engineers and workmen on my phone list than friends. Day after day they arrive to fix this, sort that, replace this, manage manage that. With each visit Naira flows.

I remember the good old days in blighty of direct debits to pay for it all and comprehensive maintenance cover. British Gas ? It would appear the boiler is not working. Tomorrow?. My good man I fear that is not good enough. I am not prepared to let my children freeze. You will come today or else. Or else what? Or else I will have to wait till tomorrow innit?

When is someone going to start this in Naija.? We need it oh.

And we are off....

2008-01-03T10:23:00.000Z

As a blogger I generally tend to shy away from political commentary as there are so many who do it so much better. I learned very early in life that politics is a dirty game and you must be prepared to sacrifice all -even your life (RIP Benazir Bhutto). It is also not a game I understand too well as I still dwell in that plush estate called "naivity and ignorance" - head for VI, make a left and you can't miss it. However, there are some things that pierce my consciousness that just cannot be ignored as they refuse to let the mind settle and be at rest and here we are only in the third day of the new year. Damn these politicos.

First up - Mr Ribadu is sent on a course. As we all know by now the Chairman of the EFCC is being sent on a course just when the EFCC was making great srtrides in tracking down and arresting the thieves with benefits we call governors. It is whispered that this is all a plan to ensure that Mr Ibori (one of the said governors) does not have to face the ignomy of being tried for the looting of state funds. Mr Ribadu is felt to be unreasonable in his continued quest for justice and the recovery of stolen monies. After all most government ministries survive on PR without really having to do anything but he seems quite determined to actually do his job. This is totally unacceptable and goes against all the principles of the game. So he has to go.

Apparently a "cabal" got together in London to plot his downfall. Imagine the conversation:

This Ribadu sef na wa oh. What kind of man is this? We send am Ghana must go he no gree. We send am Gucci. Na lie. Louix Vuitton. Ditto. What are we going to do?

Can you imagine I spoke to one Governor that was just about to transfer $100m to his HSBC account and the man was actually shaking in his shoes? I mean what is the point of being Governor if you cannot freely make these sorts of decisions without worrying about this Ribadu man?

Maybe we should arrange an accident for him? Or set him up with one of those Ashewo girls. We just need him out of the way sha as he is really blocking progress. That man needs to be taught a lesson. Wait a minute. That's it. Teach him a lesson. We'll send him on a course.

Much popping a Cristal champagne follows.

The whole ridiculousness of this action seems to have bypassed the Presidency. I mean the man was just re-elected in April\May for another four year term. Why send him on a course now unless something huge is about to happen i.e - prosecution and maybe conviction of Ibori?

As always we await news from the President as to how he will handle this brewing crisis although I do not hold out much hope. I was discussing with some friends last night and it then occurred to us that since his swearing in we had not seen Yar Adua make any speeches on TV or radio (as far as I am aware). Which is rather worrying in itself.

And on to the second farce.

The daughter of ex-President Obasanjo flies to Austria under an assumed name, false passport and visa to sign a contract with an Austrian company under an assumed name from which she will benefit under her real name. At the signing ceremony photos are taken. She then returns to Nigeria safe in the knowledge that nobody will ever be able to connect her, or her father, to this contract . This woman is the daughter of the ex-President, she is a serving Senator. What are the chances of the Austrians stumbling across her photo in the papers and saying to themselves "mmm Hansel and Gretel, this looks very much like strange lady that signed our contract. Surely can't be two people with a face like that". She claims that it was not a fraudulent act. She is absolutely right. It was a criminal act.

The EFCC is investigating. Ribadu is going on a course. I am going back to my safe enclave where things make sense.

A Century later....

2008-01-01T09:51:00.000Z

This is one long post but please bear with me....

This is my hundredth post in bloggerland. I have subconsciously been saving it for today as I am very much into symmetry and I quite liked the thought of a hundredth post on the first day of the new year.

This post is all about reminiscing and gratitude for the long journey that the Almighty Allah has taken me on. Sometimes I say to myself Toks, you have not done badly for a boy from the backstreets of Lagos (or Bode Thomas). So where to start with giving thanks?

I have to start with Allah without whom nothing is possible.
I then thank my maternal grandparents whom I lived with for some time when I was growing up (this was during the phase when my mum thought I was getting out of hand and needed a change of environment - especially after the firecracker incident).
I thank my paternal grandmother who every day and every night would regale me with the family "rap" that served as a constant reminder of who I was\am. Omo olowon la, omo tatan bulu, omo olowon la ton shi lekun fole. This is the only part that I can remember and translates loosely to the son of a rich man, brave and strong, son of a man so rich he opens the door for robbers (of course this was in the day sof the gentlemen robbers!)
I thank my parents who have done their best for me through everything. They have never turned their back on me, I have never wanted for nought and I can never repay them a fraction of the blood , sweat and tears that they have shed on my well being and that of my siblings.
I thank my friends with whom I grew up on Bode Thomas. I especially remember my friend Igbo leg, so known because no matter where he was positioned during our regular games of football the ball would invariably end up in the bushes. At one point we even recruited younger members of the neighbourhood to keep vigilance in the bushes whenever he played just to ensure a swift return of the ball. That boy was a legend on the street and I wonder where he and so many others are now?
I thank Mrs Omolulu and Mrs Branco who nurtured me at Adrao International School.
I thank the boys of Igbobi college (UP IC) who were in my set and were my friends - the dearly departed Adefusikas, the Ibrus, the Majekodunmins and all the rest.
I thank all the friends that have guided my life through my 13 year sojourn in the US and my 20 year adventure in the Queen's realm (ps I was a just a child when I left Naija oh).
I thank Iyawo for bringing a different dimension, colour and perspective to my life. I mean I can now eat, mushrooms, sushi and lasagne without wanting to puke. I can actually visit a museum and get some enjoyment out of it. I can wear my white loafers and she will still stick with me (albeit from a distance).
I thank my wonderful kids for their love and understanding during the past hectic and mad two years. I thank them for the trust that they have put in me and only pray that I can give them twice the life that my parents gave me.
I thank Jeremy for turning me on to blogging and allowing me to have an outlet for all my musings and madness
Finally, I thank you all for sharing the ride (even you Anonymous). Here is to another year and another hundred posts.

To end (I did say that this was going to be long) I leave you with one of my favourite poems ever)- Desiderata. Enjoy. Happy New year.

-- written by Max Ehrmann in the 1920s

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
as far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Twas the night before XMAS.....

2007-12-28T10:04:00.000Z

and all through the house, Iyawo was pacing like a cat on a hot tin roof. What could be the cause of this behaviour? Was she worried about Santa not delivering her presents? Was she now worried that not getting me a present - "after all what can you get for a man who has everything?" would come back to haunt her in less than 24 hours. Note to Iyawo - you can never go wrong with Halle Berry. Even for the men who have everything.

It turns out that she is fretting about the number of guests who will be descending on our humble abode for XMAS. See as a Muslim, XMAS for me is all about eating orishrishi, yanfu yanfu and the same goes for my family as we celebrate with our Xtian friends. So Iyawo has proposed that we get a few close friends and family round for some nourishment and good times. I had accidentally mentioned this to my sister and this is when the palaver started.

Ring, ring. Hello.

Sister :Toks you know that your second cousin's, sister's brother's aunt that you have not seen in years?.

Me: erm yesss????

Sister: Well she is coming to your house on XMAS.

Me: okayyyyy. But it is just her right? She will not be bringing her husband and children and that her cousin that always causes trouble?

Sister: Of course not. Don't be silly. She will not bring the cousin that causes the trouble. ...its the other one. Bye

Me: Hello?? hello??

Ring. Ring.

Me: Hello

Stranger (but related in some way or other): Uncle T. How show? So what time should we be there tomorrow? Aunty K said like in the afternoon but I wanted to be sure sha.

Me: We who? Is it not just you? (whoever you are)

Stranger (but related in some way or other): Uncle T. Very funny. See you tomorrow.

So it was that I started to sensitise Iyawo to the possibility that just maybe there might be more than ten people coming over. Then I dropped hints about twenty. Dark mutterings about thirty. Coughed out fifty just to over exaggerate. Needless to say after having planned a meal for a dozen. Iyawo was a bit stressed about the imminent arrival of four. This necessitated several emergency trips to Shoprite. I can honestly say that what I was seeing in her eyes that evening was definitely not love. I have seen thatlook before. On CSI. On Crime & Investigations. On Sky News. But definitely not on XMAS eve.

Naturally yours truly slept like a baby that night. Peaceful are the innocent. Abi no be so?

Come XMAS day the place was like Grand Central station or Cele bus stop at closing time. At one point I banned the guards from ringing the bell any further. Just bring them in. Oh Iyawo was in such a state. Counting left over chicken pieces and cornering me at every opportunity to ask exactly how many branches there were in the Toksie family tree. Food was evaporating off the table like no man's business. (Note to anonymous - we had rice, fish, lasagne, chicken, beef, small chops etc. - Naija stylie). Me I just took the serene view that when food finishes, it finishes. How for do? But Iyawo likes her organisation oh. Things have to be just so. She even stressed the chap doing the cooking so much that when she told him that he could have a drink she came back later to six empty bottles of Star beer (and a much more relaxed chef).

And still they kept coming. From the main cooking we then moved on to throwing the sausages that were left in the freezer on to the barbeque. Another pot of rice hit the stove. Another glass of wine hit the back of Iyawo's throat. Another dagger in my heart (thanks God it was only metaphorical). This was a good time to escape outside with awon boys. These are the Muslims who drink and smoke (but out of sight of Mama Toks obviously). Champagne was uncorked and gist began. This is where we were till 11.30 when the last guests finally departed. Forcefully. If I might say so myself.

By this stage I was well over the limit having consumed a small glass of champagne and a drop of Baileys on the same day. Talk about living dangerously.For me this was really pushing the boat out. My yearly alcohol intake in one go. Iyawo looked at me with a new found respect (at least one of the four Iyawos that I was seeing at this stage anyway) My eyes were not the only thing that were rolling. I was lilting from side to side. It had been a great night.

Iyawo was adamant the next day that she would prefer XMAS abroad next year. Or at a friend's house. Any friend. As a matter of fact they could be perfect strangers as far as she was concerned.

Merry XMAS to all....

2007-12-26T09:19:00.000Z

We had friends and family around yesterday and it was fab. Our first XMAS in Naija in our own home and it was just so nice. The chefs made some food that was just off the scales. The lasagne was truly historic. I have put a CCTV camera on the fridge to keep an eye on the leftover just to make sure no one gets their grubby mitts on it! You know how these children are oh.

Have a great break.

A week in the life.

2007-12-16T20:23:00.000Z

So yesterday over to VGC for the Kids XMAS party. I love kids. ReallyI do. But just my own :->. Not 200 of them. Screaming, shouting, fighting. Being kids. I mean grow up! Actually it was quite good with all the bouncy castles although they could have had more things due to the large number of kids. Anyway, I ended up in the queue for popcorn. Now when I say queue I mean there was a main queue and then several tributaries. The good thing was that the two guys serving the popcorn were strictly serving the people in the main queue. But it did not stop the chancers from trying their luck. Kids and adults (mostly their nannies).

Now being a big guy it is not very difficult for me to oppress. I mean when I frown face even grown men fear. But you think these kids gave me face? For where? I mean one kid even moved my leg back so that he could insert himself in front of me despite all my grumbling and clearing of throat! He was like- yea whatever.

After about 30 minutes of queueing -note to organisers - two oldish popcorn machines to serve 2009 kids is not a good idea- I was just about to reach the front of the queue when this "lady" came over, saw her son on the side of the queue and started asking why he had not been served. One of the nannies in front of me had the "nerve" to tell her that it was because he was not in the queue. Cue (pardon the pun) explosion. How dare you tell him he cannot be served because he is not in the queue? Is it not only popcorn? What is the big deal? I was going to explain the big deal to her and point out that she was setting him the wrong example but thought ah what the hell. Save the ammo for bigger battles so I let her continue to hiss and cuss and prattle on whilst her son remained unserved.

Over to the girls school to watch the XMAS play. Arrive to find two leather chairs at the front of the hall behind which the standard folding chairs were lined up. What are the folding chairs for I asked? VIPs my daughter responded. For a school play? Am I not a VIP with the amount of cash I am forking out to the yeye school? A memo is winging its way to the Headmaster tomorrow. What message is this sending to the kids?

Over to my parent for a visit. My father says my son has been telling him all about me. What did he say I ask? He said you had not been feeling well, he replied and when I asked him why he said "don't you know he is an old man and he makes funny noises when he walks "and then proceeded to demonstrate my funny walk. So what are we going to do my father asked him? "Oh he is okay now we have given him medicine!"

And so it goes.

Proud to be Nigerian!!

2007-12-07T18:42:00.000Z

Even here in chilly London I cannot get it, or him, out of my head. It just keeps popping up like that leftover in the toilet bowl that lacks the substance to get sucked down the drain. I mean how dare he? At the time I was apoplectic. I could have bust a blood vessel. Since then I have calmed down but not enough to forget.

So here's the deal. You grow up in Nigeria before the oil hit big time and the train went off the tracks. You have a great family and social life. You go down to the beach on the weekends. You go for drives with your dad in his convertible. Lagos is light. Life is great. It stays in your mind.

Fast forward several decades and you now have kids of your own and you say to yourself - I must give them a sense, a taste of what it is like to be a Nigerian. Regardless of where they eventually settle in the world they must have a sense of their Nigerian identity. And so you all end up in Lagos. And every day you are trying to show them this , tell them that and the other so that they get it. So that they understand. So that they are Proud to be Nigerian.

In the meantime, everyday you turn on your radio and local TV to be greeted by a barrage of false American and British and God knows what other accent. However, there is one that truly stands out. This chap on Grilla FM. Is he for real? Iyawo reckons he might just be doing it to take the mick. I don't think so. I think he sees himself as the bees knees. I think he wakes up in the morning and looks in the mirror and taps himself on the chin.

This guy has the most strangulated, over reaching "upper class" British accent I have ever had the misfortune to come across. Morning after morning on the drive to school we tune in hoping against hope that at some point he will come out and say - just kidding oh my people. How ya body? But no. He continues to murder the English language at every turn.

And then the final straw. He is interviewing some chap and he has the audacity, the alacrity, the bloody nerve to ask the chap if he is proud to be Nigerian???? He then claims that he himself is very proud to be Nigerian!! All the while continuing to speak in his awful !£%£$^$&% accent. Whaaat?? How can you be proud to be a Nigerian when it is quite obvious that you detest being a Nigerian if you cannot even be bothered to speak naturally? To communicate in your own tongue?

His is not the only example of the dissing of our culture, our values, our heritage. It seems more and more is disappearing every day. We are dying a slow death. How sad. For me, for my children, for their children. Will there be anything left?

Buyer Beware.

2007-12-03T06:17:00.000Z

One of the things we did not bring back to Nigeria with us was a car. There was just nowhere to fit it even if we had stood it on it's head. So we had to buy one here. My cousin recommended a dealer (D1) who proceeded to deliver a fleet of different models for our consideration. My father in- law also recommended a dealer (D2) from whom he had purchased various cars over the past 15 years.

Once we had settled on a car - with the dealer recommended by my cousin, my father in law insisted that we must at least visit the other dealer for comparison and we did so. It was a most impressive showroom and as a matter of fact there were several of them - all impressive.

We decided to go for a test drive in one of their cars which apparently was the same year as the model and year we had settled on. On first inspection it was clear that there were differences between the two cars even though it was claimed that both were of the same year. I then decided to do something I am not sure a lot of people are aware of. I decided to check the VIN on both cars.

The VIN or Vehicle Identification Number can be found in several places on a car -on a plaque under the windscreen and on labels on the driver side door and in the engine bay. Once you plug this number into google it will direct you to a variety of sites where you can get the history of the car. Some of these will give you basic information for free and ask you to pay for the full history of the car including if it is registered as stolen, damaged, write off etc. Some even have maintenance details of the car and details of the previous owners.

A cursory check on the two cars on our list revealed one (from D2) to be a 1999 model and the other (from D1)to be the 2002-3 model as claimed. A call back to the dealer who had advertised the 1999 car as 2002 elicited a surprised response and a promise to get to the bottom of this "mystery".

Yesterday my father in law rang me in a panic. He had just bought a car from this dealer (D1)and suspected that all was not well - hmm. It turns out that exactly the same thing had happened. He had been told the car he was buying was 2002-3 when in fact it was a 1999 model!! He is returning the car today.

You have been warned.

I can't quite put my finger on it.

2007-12-01T05:35:00.000Z

There's just something about this lady that is reaching out to me. I can't quite put my finger on it (for Iyawo and legal reasons) :->. Thanks to Funmi for the link. http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dgXfqhNtM-o/R07fay1yjFI/AAAAAAAAAd8/w7qNDXf9L3M/s1600-h/Zanele.jpg

Just like riding a bike..... ish

2007-11-25T17:12:00.000Z

I am in pain. Severe pain. The sort of pain women complain about during childbirth. Only I do not have access to an epidural. Or a doctor. no. It's just me and good ole Paracetamol. See this is what happens when vanity and ego overtake common sense. Some weeks ago we had the pleasure of having Laspapi round for dinner during which he casually mentioned that he played five - a- side football every Friday. He looked fit and well and I took this as a good sign that the Friday kickabout was doing him good.

Since then we have exchanged emails and I have made enquiries about the game stating categorically that:

- I have not played in at least five years

- My current fitness leaves something to be desired

- Constant travelling does not help

- My advancing years could be an issue etc etc.

I feel that I gave him enough clues for him to be able to say. Toksie you are absolutely right. You continue to stay at home of a Saturday evening eating spring rolls and sipping on fruit cocktails. Sure, make the occasional trip to LaCasa to "work out" and all will be well. But no. The mails came thick and fast. Oh everything will be alright. We are all old men. None of us is fully fit. You will fit right in. We will play at the right pace.

And so it was that I donned my trainers (white of course) and headed off to the Astro turf pitch last night. The first clue that all was not well was that there was no sign of my "mentor". Maybe he is running late I thought to myself as I watched a bunch of fit Arabs\ Lebanese blast the ball about the pitch. Thank God I am not playing with these guys. He'll be here any minute now with the rest of the geriatrics, I try to convince myself, and we can get on with it. It wil be more about skill than speed.

Seconds turn into minutes and thirty of those later I found myself being fitted into an orange jersey and lining up with nine other players - none of whom was a day past 30. Some of them looked fit and muscular enough to play in the Premiership. Unfortunately there was no hiding place. This was five a side. There were nine of them and well you don't have to be a scientist.

For those of you not familiar with this brutal sport here is how it works. Unlike regular football, there are only five players per side, normally there are plenty of subs to allow players to rest, it is played on a smaller pitch than the standard which is normally Astro Turf. Oh and the game tends to move very quickly indeed. Especially if you are forty something and your knees are shot and your groin muscles are em tight. (Bill Cosby to David Letterman. I pulled a groin muscle last night. Dave to Bill. Was it yours? Classic). Anyways.

I look over and notice there are no subs, and no Laspapi, on the bench. I am run ragged. My breath, when it comes, is coming from somewhere near my ankles. I can tell because I am bent over double on my knees and can feel and hear the blood pumping through my veins. From my toes. We are three minutes into the game. I have already dispatched a bottle of water and now realise the foolishness of quaffing that bowl of jollof rice and efo stew earlier in the afternoon to "beef" up my energies.

I rain curses on my tor"mentor"'s head as the ball continues to whizz past me like the okada men on the Lekki Expressway. I eye the referee so ferociously urging him to blow his whistle for half time he must think I am trying to pick him up. Eventually there is only one thing for it. My turn to be the keeper. I wheeze as I stumble towards the post, my vision blurred from sweat and light headedness.

The keeper is none too pleased as he later confides that he is suffering from the excesses of the previous night. Too many drinks, too many women, dusk turns into dawn etc. Damn those were the days I think to myself... as the ball whizzes past me into the net. Note to self. Concentrate. And er stand up. I use the post to leverage myself into a standing position and then miraculously feel my second, or is it fourth wind, appearing. I decide to go for it and call back the fairly grateful keeper and I make my way on to the wings where I give a display of left sided play those young whipper snappers will propably not see again for some time ( I reckon it will take at least two weeks for me to feel my knees and toes again).

Much to my relief the referee finally blows. I muster all my strength to run to the drinks cabinet, give high fives to one and all and make for my departure until I am told it is only halftime. We still have another half to go. Has it just been fifteen minutes?

From the look on their faces I am pretty sure those guys had never seen a grown man cry like that before. Wait till I get my hands on that Laspapi who never did show up. He won't even be able to whisper to the girls when I finish with him.

Oh and by the way we lost. By one point. And I saved four goals. Let in three. Scored none. Came close though. Twice. So there.

I'm off to rest.

Moments with Moe

2007-11-25T16:43:00.000Z

I arrive home to find Moe wandering around the garden. In his hand is a two way radio. Finally it has arrived after two months of waiting. Finally they can communicate with their HQ and their armed patrols if we ever come under attack. But why is he wandering around the garden? " Moe, which one you dey do? Why the wandering?" Moe tells me he is looking for a signal for the radio. Say what? Moe believes the radio to be like a mobile phone and that he needs to find a sweet spot from which he can make his emergency transmissions should the unexpected ever happen. So you plan to be running around the garden looking for a signal if we are ever attacked? "Oga, it is for the best." I break it to him gently that a good radio in working order should be able to pick up a signal from any part of the compound. He does not seem convinced. I leave him to it and only pray that should anything happen they will at least grant him the courtesy of time for him to run to the magic spot in order to make the distress call.

As we are finishing off our discussion there is a high pitched wailing on the radio. It is a female voice and is clearly in some distress. We both stare at the device in his hands waiting for the next transmission. It is not long in coming. The next thing we hear is the chorus to the Rihanna song, Umbrella. It turns out that the damsel in distress was actually singing (or screeching). On a two way security radio. I wonder how the armed response responded to that?

Scene 2. Moe approaches me in his usual manner which is from the side. Regardless of which way I turn he meanders around to try and stay out of my line of vision even though he is trying to engage me in conversation. It is like something out of Miami Vice (the TV series not the film). Those old enough will remember that Castillo (the Head of the Dept.) would always be facing the wall, the door, or gazing into the far distance as he had conversations with Crockett and Stubbs. Anyway, finally we get ourselves into a position where I am staring off into the far distance (damn if only I had been prepared and had put on my linen suit and white shoes)and he begins to talk.

Moe -Oga, em I just want tell you say there was shooting in the area four days ago.
Me- oh really?
Moe- Yes as a matter of fact it was very close by. Even sef the other security man wanted to run to the back of the house.
Me - the back of the house?
Moe- yes, you know that place on the other side of the front of the house wey you been tell us about? (okay I deserved that.)
Me - oh yes. That back of the house. Why would he run there?
Moe - Because he dey afraid.
Me - but if persons enter the house will they not also go to the back of the house?
Moe - na so I tell him before he come calm down. Then I pushed the panic button and the armed response came.
Me- ok. How long did it take?
Moe - about 20 mins. They then said that they would charge me, that is you, for false alarm.
Me - but why if there was shooting? I beg please press the alarm anytime something like that dey happen close to the house. You have it with you now?
Moe- No it is in the security shed on the shelf.
Me - How do you plan to press it from there if something happens?
Moe -I will run to get it.
Me- Before or after you run to the garden to radio for help?

It goes right over his head of course.He looks at me , once , twice and then shuffles away.
And so it goes.

And yes I am taking my prayers more seriously.

History repeating itself??

2007-11-03T05:16:00.000Z

Have just returned from a week in Abuja (after a week in Uganda which I will blog about later) where I continue to notice a decline in what was once a very beatific and civilised part of Nigeria. I cannot recall the total number of near misses I saw but do recall seeing some very serious accidents one of them which looked particularly nasty. It would seem that the bad driving habits in Lagos are now making their presence felt in Abuja. When I first visited Abuja about 6 years ago I was gobsmacked that such a contrast existed to Lagos within Nigeria. Over the years I have started to notice the deterioration in the public facilities (what has happened to the street lights and traffic lights?) as well as a rise in the type of crude, rude, aggressive behaviours one had learned to associate only with Lagos. Even something as simple as entering the gates of the Transcorp Hilton is now laden with threats, swearing, aggression and fisticuffs as traffic from three or four different directions all want to squeeze into the single lane entrance. Some of these cars are bearing the elected "leaders" of our great society who continue to set a great example for one and all.

Speaking of which my spirit has been high and my morale boosted after weeks in the doldrums. Promised myself I would not comment until it was over but never expected to have to wait this long. The stress was unimaginable. I called it a cancer on the soul and Iyawo labelled it a darkness of the heart. I of course refer to the case of the vile Etteh(gate). Every morning I would wake up and rush to the TV to see if she had resigned or been sacked or something just to show the world that there was a modicum of sanity in this country. I found it absurd that the dispute was around due process rather than the fact that someone was prepared to spend between N500 -N650m to"refurbish" a couple of houses. F*** due process. Charge her with obscenity. Charge her with idiocy. Charge her with greed and stupidity. Insolence and alacrity. Whatever.

In the meantime it is repeated to me several times by different people that her pursuers are not doing it for moral reasons but more for the fact that they were either not cut in on the action or that they want to send a message to someone. Apparently the money issue is nether here nor there. After all, they say, what is N500m? £2m?? Oh please. A lot of them would not get out of their beds for that sort of loose change. If that is the case I plan to start my campaign for election very shortly. Watch this space. I already have a slogan - Toksie for Speaker of the House. He promises to only spend a miserly N100m refurbishing his house. (and then in small print - "every three months"). He will also not waste your money on a body massage machine as he already has one called Iyawo. Instead that N98m will therefore be spent responsibly on something that will benefit all members if his constituency - a bullet proof Range Rover with Tinted Winders and 23 inch spinning alloys, with satellite navigation and a 10 CD changer. To be used for Official business only. Catchy eh?

To cap it all I had a meeting with a mole. Let's call him deep throat. He tells me that all is not well with our democracy. Gee, really? Go figure. Apparently the powers that were still feel that they are the powers that are and the powers that are, are much too reserved to take full control and unless something happens shortly then it could all fall apart and we could end up where we always end up historically if you get my meaning. He tells me however that all is not lost yet and there are moves underway to re-balance the situation and blow me down with a feather if I did not see a headline the next morning confirming one of those moves.

Will history repeat itself? I hope not but this is Nigeria.

Please do not forget to cast your vote for the next Speaker of the House of Representa Thieves.

Youth entertainment in Nigeria

2007-10-15T11:08:00.000Z

Oh these kids of today. They do not realise how well they have it. 24 hours TV, fifty + channels, cinemas, shopping malls etc. Back in my day (hey you at the back don't start nodding off!) .... Anyway I am amazed at the choices available to the kids today. With the access to all this media and stimulation one hopes they pick up on the positive messages rather than get sucked into the more questionable stuff on offer. Trust me it is all out there.

My inspiration for this blog was a chance meeting with a chap called Denrele (pictured above with you know who - for more photos go to her blog) who hosts a lot of programmes for an outfit called Soundcity. These programmes are then aired across the local channels in Nigeria - AIT, NTA,MITV, Silverbird (I tell you again these kids are enjoying oh). The last week spent in the company of Denrele has been a real eye opener. The guy is a whirlwind of activity and nervous energy but in a very positive and nice middle class sort of way.

Oh how I wish my parents had allowed me to pursue my dreams of becoming a musikshan so that I too could get to dress like him.

Speaking of choices the elder daughters had a little outing with their chums from school at the weekend. First they went to Silverbird to watch a film and hangout and then they went to Cactus for lunch. Imagine. An outing for me back in the day involved being dressed up in some outfit that glowed in the dark and being taken to some aunty\ uncles party where the only entertainment would involve kicking bottle caps around the chairs whilst trying to stay out of my mother's range of vision knowing full well that if I caught her eye it was truly game over.

What do you think of today's feast of entertainment for kids in Naija today?

Ahh. Domestic bliss.

2007-10-10T13:35:00.000Z

So we were very lucky to find our house in Lekki. Much praise to the Almighty Allah for his guidance to this place. As is usual the minute I walked into the house for the initial viewing I knew it would be our home. I have this knack, vibe, feel,gift, call it what you like, for this sort of thing. My job is to find the place. Iyawo's job is to pimp the place out and she has done a mighty fine job on this one.

So after all the palaver with our shipment from the UK we finally moved and and got into the Lagos life. I was saying to the kids yesterday I cannot believe that people actually waste time and money going to the cinema when there is so much free entertainment to be had. For us this starts at home.

At the front of the house are the Hot fuzz or Halogen Security to be more precise. We have three of them. Let's call them Larry, Curly and Moe. I only pray that we never get attacked and find that this is our first line defense otherwise our asses would be grasses. L,C, M believe that their objective on taking the job was to get as much sleep as possible. Last time I was in London I got a call from Iyawo in the night to say that she was worried that she could not see any of the two on night duty. Turns out they were in the security hut -securing the perimeter with both eyes closed. Let me give you an example of what we go through.

One day I said to Moe,
-when was the last time you actually patrolled the compound?
He looked at me blankly.
Oga, you mean walking about?.
Okay, no point getting technical and spouting military lingo.
- Yes, walking about.
- Oga we walk around all the time.
Me- Okay, when was the last time you walked about to the let's see now, the back of the house?
Furrowed brow.
- Back of the house?
-yes, you know the place on the other side of the front of the house.
Oga you mean to go around the side and then around the back?
- Yep and if you are feeling really adventurous you can also go around the other side of the house and back to the front again.

I can see all this registering and a cloud forming in his mind. I guessed he was thinking to himself "chai, this job is tougher than I expected oh!"

I asked Larry one day what he would do if we were attacked. Did he have any direct connections to his office? Could he summon an armed patrol? Did he even have a mobile? He replied that he planned to ring the doorbell to let us know we were under attack. I slept much better that night for sure.

All this harassment has paid off dividends as they have now been issued with trenchcoats and batons.All they need now is a whistle and I can go to sleep and even leave the front door open knowing that the Halo boys are out in force.

Inside the house things are just as amusing. We have two Togolese ladies. Well one lady and one crackpot. The elder is a professional cook. She gets up at 6.30 every morning and is still cooking at 7 pm at night. All sorts of things are always bubbling away on the fire. Sometimes I wonder exactly how many people we are feeding as it is not unusual to have three pots of stew on the go. If not for my strict discipline and rigorous exercise routines (up and down to the fridge- works wonders I tell you) I am sure I would have gained so much weight. She goes around singing or humming gospel songs and is happiest just pottering around in the kitchen.

The other one is a different kettle of fish altogether. As a matter of fact I cannot actually guarantee that she is altogether. She laughs like an hyena, sings like she is being strangled and causes more trouble than our youngest ones. As a matter of fact she probably encourages more bad behaviour than good. She only (badly) knows one nursery rhyme in English which we have had to ban as it was driving everyone round the bend what with the wailing tone, the mispronounced words, the made up words and the never ending crescendo. It was just too much to bear.

All this reminds me of the summers I used to spend with my cousin when they lived in Bourdillon in Ikoyi back in the days when Ikoyi was still a proper suburb. Everything ticking along very nicely. A steady hummmm vibe. Our two young ones spoiled rotten with all the attention they are getting, food on demand, play on demand, noise galore. Ahh Domestic bliss indeed.

Complicity. Another in the lecture series.....

2007-10-08T06:53:00.000Z

So this morning on the way to drop the kids off at school we are as usual greeted with the long queues of traffic down Admiralty Way. As we meander our way through we are not surprised to see the usual lawless drivers switch lanes into oncoming traffic and bulldoze their way down to the gate and on to the roundabout. Oh never mind they must be in a hurry.

All of a sudden to our right we see that an okada with an Oyinbo male passenger is speeding down the sidewalk horns blaring. Other okadas are making their way through traffic easily enough but this particular one is on the sidewalk. Two chaps are walking on the sidewalk when the okada comes speeding up to them and blaring his horn for them to move out of the way. They refuse and he makes a show of going around them on the grass and then flinging abuse over his shoulder. They respond and he then pulls up, jumps off the bike and attacks them physically. Meanwhile, the oyinbo passenger sits quietly with a fixed smile, grimace, on his face. I wind down the window and a couple of cars start blaring our horn in support of the poor pedestrians. The okada on realising the strength of support for them beats a hasty retreat but not before I can ask the oyinbo man if I would be allowed to ride on the pavement and attack pedestrians in his country. Naturally there is no response.

Two days ago I had a meeting at the Eko Hotel. Those familiar with the hotel will know that access is now restricted to one gate whilst they put in a paid parking system at the main gate. This work had naturally led to a queue of cars snaking their way in through the one gate. After about 10 minutes in the queue I am less than amused to see a 4x4 whizz around in the outside lane and then try to squeeze his way into the entrance just ahead of my car. Naturally I am giving him the evil look which normally makes people consider their choices in life but he is not getting the message. I then notice that it is one of those private security vehicles they is used to shepherd scared oyinbos from the airport to the hotel and in the back of this one was said scared oyinbo.

I got out to have a word with both driver, escort and passenger. I asked a few questions which I thought were particularly apt such as:

- Is it because you are carrying oyinbo that you think you have the right to drive like this?
- Does this mean that he has more pressing things to do than us that have been waiting patiently in the queue?
- Do you think they would let you drive like this in his country?
- Mr Oyinbo, would you allow him to drive like this in your country?
- Mr Oyinbo when you get back home are you not going to regale them with tales of the reckless driving and horrid traffic conditions you encountered on your extremely lucrative first class, money making business trip to Lagos?
- Mr Oyinbo are you going to mention by any chance the part you played in it?

As with the man on the okada he again displayed the frozen grimace of a deer trapped in the headlights.

I reckon this must be the look of those guilty of complicity. Or shame. Or both.

This is why people turn to drugs....

2007-10-04T06:34:00.001Z

Last weekend the car is looking filthy and we are on our way out to a function. I had noticed that the petrol station next to Shoprite offered a car wash service. I had also noticed a place on Admiralty Way where they were also washing cars. So I set off to wash the car. All was well with the world. The sun was shining. The AC was blasting along with the music. "We are the world, we are the people.." Classic. I love it. No, just kidding.

Anyways, I decide to try the place on Admiralty before making the long tortuous journey to Shoprite. The follwoing then occurs:

Me driving up and immediately being approached by one of the five men sitting at the gate.

Me: Oga is this a car wash?

Man: This place? Indicating the area where I am parked which is wet, has a hose connecterd to an external tap and some washcloths.

Me: Yes.

Man: Oga we don't wash cars here oh.

Me: But I saw a car being washed when I drove past half an hour ago.

Man: Oga oh yes. But we only wash our own cars.

Me: Oh okay. Do you know anywhere near here or do I have to go to Shoprite.

Man: Shakes head. No place around here oh. Oga, you want to wash your car?

Me: Thinking no I came here to seek intelligent life forms. Yes I want to wash my car.

Man: Oga we only wash our own cars here.

Me reversing. Then tap tap on the window.

Man: Oga don't you want us to wash your car?

Me: Look my friend you said you only wash your own cars????

Man: Oga we can wash your car oh.

He then proceeds to explain to the other guys that the man sitting in the dirty car wants to get his car washed. After much nodding of heads he is joined by another man and they proceed to give the car a mighty good clean.

Till now I still cannot work out the logic. Maybe drugs would help.

One good deed.....

2007-10-01T17:19:00.000Z

Having grown up around policemen I am very much of the follow the rules, zero tolerance, no rubbish mentality. It has therefore not been easy for me to settle back in Lagos. I wanted to say us but Iyawo seems to be taking a more philosophical view of things that I am (at least she was).

My number one bug bear is the way people drive in Lagos. Numerous times over the past month I have found myself on the road directing traffic to clear jams caused by one moron or another driving the wrong way, blocking a major junction, buying stuff whilst parked in the middle lane or just being a total jackass. Iyawo has watched with alarm as the Igbobi College, Yaba boy (Up IC) within me has resurfaced with some vigour. She keeps warning me about my BP (blood pressure) which I can assure you at some points over the last month must have gone stratospheric whilst arguing with some muppet in a 4x4 who thinks this gives him the right to rule the road.

By the way, to the idiot in the Hummer H2 that tried to climb over the central reservation on the Lekki express yesterday and duly got stuck, it was only Iyawo's intervention and the fact that we were late for a function that stopped me from delivering what would have been a fine sermon on the fact that at some point any sense you might have had been overtaken by daddy's money as you looked far too young to have bought that car yourself - legally. There must have come a tipping point in your young unformed mind where you thought "mmm, too much traffic on the road. Obviously all these other fools do not have access to this two ton jeep disguised as a "sports utility vehicle" and its superior handling skills. After all is this not what the Americans use to conquer in Iraq, Afghanistan and all those other rough terrains? I beg let me just climb over this pavement into oncoming traffic jare and really impress this my 16 year old chicko". I was somewhat saddened that on my return trip three hours later your car was nowhere to be seen as it would seem that you had finally managed to get some traction (or area boys) to get you out of the .....

Two weeks ago I almost killed a man whilst trying to do my duties as a good citizen. On this particular day my blood was boiling as mayhem and anarchy was ruling on the Lekki expressway (on two occasions it has taken over three hours to get from our house to Shoprite, a distance of less than 2 miles). We decided to take a short cut rather than face the long drive all the way down to Exxon just to turn around to get to VI. The first argument was with a chap in a 4x4 who having overtaken the traffic waiting to turn then cut in from the outside lane into oncoming traffic and tried to insert himself between the 2 inch gap between the rear bumper of our car and the front bumper of the car behind which was determined not to let him in. After much revving of engine he then proceeded to slam into us at which point I ejected myself from the car to have a few choice words. To my amazement he then turned around and started abusing the other driver for not letting him in and having the audacity to block him off. After much wasting of spittle and some very strong language we all proceeded on our merry way. Throughout all this Iyawo was in the car reading a magazine and telling me afterwards to calm down as I was breathing hele hele by this point.

Less than a few hundred yards later a danfo zoomed past us facing oncoming traffic, finally met his match in view of the fact that a huge lorry was heading towards him with no apparent intention of stopping (or no brakes as it is sometimes hard to tell which is which). Realising the error of his ways he then proceeded to literally jam himself into our front. First I wound down the window to warn him to no avail. So I decided to take drastic action. I opened the door to go face him mano to mano only for an okada driver to slam at speed into the open door catapulting driver and passenger over the handlebars into the (thank God) soft grass on the other side of the verge. The driver lay motionless whilst the passenger had somehow landed on his feet and was still holding on (and listening) to his Sony discman. I swear this can only happen in Lagos.

At this point even the danfo driver had stopped as a crowd quickly gathered (mostly other okada drivers). The following scen then unfolded:

Me: Sorry oh my friend. Are you okay?
Okada driver : no response, but slowly moving about gingerly.
Other Okda drivers : Oga wetin now? You want to kill him?
Me: Were you even there? Did you see what happened?
Other Okada to Okada driver : Oboy , how are you feeling? Oya move your legs. Oya check your ankle? Ya neck unko? You break ribs? You see well? Any blood? Crack ya wrists. Having ascertained that it was most likely the okada man would live they then turned their attention to his prostrate bike.

The steering bend? E dey leak petrol? How about the exhaust? Any sand don enter? The clutch still day? I bed check am well, well oh?

Once the roadside MOT had been passed they then reunited driver and motorbike. I made a contribution towards his speedy recovery, bid the still grooving passenger a fond farewell and so we departed. But not before the danfo, which immediately it looked like there were no casualties to gawp at jumped in front of us and sped off.

The moral of this story? Damn I wish I knew. Welcome to Lagos. Y'all drive safely now.

Its been seven hours and fifteen days.

2007-09-15T06:51:00.000Z

Things are settling down. We are getting into our groove. The nightly gun fire has disappeared to be replaced by the banging of drums. Empty oil drums that is. There are OPC providing unofficial security in the area and apparently this is how they communicate with themselves. At 2.30 this morning Iyawo literally flew out of bed when the drumming began. As I say it is a lot more defined now that the guns are silent. Yours truly being the man of the house, defender of the weak and protector of the brood muttered platitudes from deep in slumberland whilst she canvassed the place to make sure it was still secure, the kids were still asleep and the guards were awake. Of course if there had been any real drama I would have been all over it like white on rice. For sure.

We are now starting to fall into the rhythm of life in Lagos. Most of the handymen have now taken their ounce of flesh and gone. At one point we were like the home for motherless handymen what with a carpenter, electrician, plumber, generator repair, pool man, mesh man, painter, brick layer, welder etc all over the place. Finally, Iyawo gave the green light that the place is fit for habitation so large sums of money have exchanged hands and all have departed. Some with tears in their eyes. Some will take early retirement. Oga are you sure there is nothing else? Yes there is. It's called bankruptcy and let's not go there.

Things are not going well on the school front. Firstly, the rah rah international school for the big girls has no school uniforms. We have been trying to obtain these for weeks but they still have not arrived. So the kids are having to do with a mixture of second hand stuff or attire that is either too small or too big. Interestingly, the school apparently threatened all students that they only had two days grace for not wearing the full uniform before severe sanctions would be imposed. See the logic? Also despite the heat they are banned from carrying\ drinking water during the school periods. Refreshments only allowed at lunch and after PE. Needless to say I will be popping into the school next week to have a word. Or two.

Things are even more of a disaster for the younger ones. Firstly the promised "special eds" unit that led us to register our daughter at the school over the summer has not materialised. The person who was to set it up has been relieved of his duties and is now back in the UK. On the first day of school Iyawo asked her new teacher (the one we met a few months before who was "specially trained" had also left) where all the teaching materials were being that the classroom was totally bereft of anything including, er books. Apparently these things were held in a special unit. I assume they are only brought out for photo opportunities? Further alarm bells start ringing when in casual conversation our son mentions that his new teacher (less than a week remember) told him that unless he prays his mummy and daddy would die!! Now I had only recently noticed that the school has a strong Christian slant but I did not expect this. When Iyawo arrived at the school one morning she found the classrooms empty as apparently all the teachers were in a prayer session. Is a school the right place for this?

So the kids start at their new schools next week. We checked it out on Thursday to be met with such activity filled classrooms that our heads were spinning. Iyawo was almost in tears such was the stuff on offer. Books galore, activity sets, games. The whole place was filled to bursting and as they are Montessori they seem to have a very clear idea of how to look after and develop the children. We took the kids there for an initial assessment yesterday and after one day the Head had more of an insight into the kids than the other school had given all week. Not that they had given us any feedback whatsoever. So the message for future returnees is be careful.

Meanwhile my cousin has just arrived with her son who is going to start boarding at Greensprings. She herself is coming back in October. More and more Nigerians are returning home. There is a light flickering at the end of the tunnel. Jeremy posts pictures of the new local airport and my heart soars to the heavens. This is what we can do wen we put our minds to it. I hope they maintain it. The Lagos state government is finally clearing off the rest of Bar beach. One day I stopped there to buy fruit and veg and the next day all the stalls were gone. There are more policemen on the street than ever. We have had electricity and running water for 95 % of the time. The only fly in the ointment has been the traffic on the inappropriately named Lekki Expressway.

Overall things have been much better than we expected (or is that because we had already prepared for the worst). To top it all of Iyawo is performing tonight at the Muson. Her first show in Nigeria in a long time. I will post some pics as soon as they are available.

More on our Niaja move to follow.

A six gun salute welcome to Lekki

2007-09-01T08:02:00.000Z

I sit here in the Virgin lounge at MMI airport waiting for my flight to London and reflecting on our first week in Lekki. I won't bore you with the palaver of retrieving our goods from the shipping company not only because it is tedious and predicatable but also because it might lead me to tears. Again. And no one wants to see a large black man crying in public. Especially I suspect the Virgin lounge staff.

I jokingly told Iyawo that I had to make this trip just to get internet access. It is not like I have not tried but the shuttle between Cool FM internet cafe, Eko Hotel "Business centre" and the Protea "Business centre" had become a bit tiresome. So it was that I set out to acquire a Starcomms line for internet access. This is where I ran into my first barrier. The lady in the shop in the Palms was serving three of us at the same time and as such was unable to give me her undivided attention to explain the various plans, phones, devices etc that was on offer. Besides which she needed a utility bill from me showing my address. Having lived in the house for precisely 24 hours I explained that this might prove difficult. I gave up in frustration and rang Jeremy who put me in touch with Direct on PC.

A few calls later and there is a chap in my house with a wireless device connected to my PC and forty thousand naira changes hands (why does it never change hands into mine?) and off he goes. This was four days ago. Since then I have probably had two hours where I have not had to reconnect and reboot the PC. Yesterday when it rained I actually just left it running a loop where it was trying to connect for several hours. The kids are not amused that they are being denied Messenger which was one of the terms of their agreeing to the relocation. (They are also less than amused having picked up the schedule to arrive at the Palms to watch a film only to be told it was not showing!) It looks like it is back to Starcomms and their dial up service.

So the goods were finally delivered at about 6pm in the evening. Obviously there is no more discreet way to move into a neighbourhood than for a forty foot container to arrive at your doorstep at that time of the day. Needless to say sleep was at a premium that first evening. What really surprised me though was the warmnt of the welcome from the people in Lekki. I mean the gunshots rang out all night (and to be honest every night since). Now I am pleased that they are so pleased to see us but I feel it might be time to put a cap on it (pardon the pun). Sometimes the shots sound like they are coming from right outside our gate which was a bit worrying before we had the security boys in place. Actually it is no less worrying as all the security boys are armed with is their mobile phones.

My uncle had arranged for the police patrols in the area to pay a courtesy visit on a daily basis but I feel they have given up now. See they were supposed to come over whist on their patrol and sign in to prove they had been. On the first day I was therefore pleased to see the boys in black carrying their trusty rusty rifles at the gate. I went out to meet them and the conversation went thus.

Senior officer - who might you be?

Me - Introducing myself

SO - we understand that we are to sign here daily?

Me - yes that is my understanding

SO - that would mean driving here daily?

Me- i follow your logic and i like it

SO - this requires petrol for the car

Me - staring blankly

Junior officer - as a matter of fact it requires more than petrol. For example I have just had to pay the vulcaniser to fix the tyres.

Me - is there no central depot where you can get petrol and fix tyres?

SO & JO both stare at me as if I have dropped from the sky wearing an aluminium thong

SN - oga let me make it simple for you. If you take care of us then we can take care of you otherwise if there is any problem and you call us well we might not be able to make it ........

I have not seen them since I assume on the basis that I have not been home all the other times they have been round and they have taken this as a sign that I am avoiding them. As if.

On the other hand I accidentally pushed the button on the Alarm Centre remote and they are outside the gate in two minutes asking if there is any problem. Result.

The other thing we have all noticed is the Nepa situation. Touch wood my people but in the last week we have not been deprived of electricity for more than 5 -6 hours max. And four of those were on a single day. Funnily enough I had read on laspapi's blog something to the effect that there was now a huge improvement in electricity in Lagos but this only made the residents more nervous. I fully buy into this mentality as Iyawo and I keep thinking that at some point they will just take light for 6 months to compensate.

I know that a lot of people are moving back to Naija or thinking about it so I will focus this blog now on what life is like for new arrivals like us trying to settle down in this strange place called home.

Meanwhile my congealed omellete and nuclear hot meat pie beckons. Ciao.

p.s Some numbers please.

2007-08-17T06:00:00.000Z

Does anyone have a number and address for Halogen security and also the same for the companies that sell and install the 1000 litre diesel drums? Thanks

Soon come I beg oh.

2007-08-17T05:35:00.000Z

It all started about a month ago with a funny burning smell and then a strange grinding noise and then nothing. Reboot after reboot failed to solve the problem. And that was it. The end of our fantastic journey on the super highway. Gone. All mails, docs, files. Gone. Sitting on 10mb of broadband and nothing to do. So we all sat around looking at the real possibility that we might have to, gulp, talk to one another rather than spend all hours on the computer, on the internet. Oh dear. Thank God for television:->.

So anyway. The computer packed up. The new one was already loaded on the boat and so we were IT less. We are now in Lagos but the load is still at the port and trying to do stuff from Business centres and Internet Cafes where the definition of broadband seems to be anything above 64k has proved to be a challenge but not for much longer. News reaches us from the "agent" that further to the mobilisation that was mobilised out last week our goods will indeed be mobilised to our still empty house next week. Oh goody. It has only been sitting at the port for three weeks so not bad eh?

Anyway, on behalf of Iyawo and myself apologies for the long silence and soon come oh. With gist galore.

Also on my part thanks to everyone for all their suggestions on where to get various bits and pieces and how to do various bits and pieces in Lagos. All the advise has proven invaluable.

I could not end however without saying. Man who? Chelsea rules. Ok?

2007-07-07T15:39:00.000Z

This post is titled Poles Apart. But blogger refuses to let me type a title!

Ah the big day has finally arrived. The boys have shown up on the doorstep ready to deprive of us of all detritus of 30 years of international wanderings. And my shoes. It is very easy to work out the Alpha Male, the leader of the as he struts into the house asking questions, pointing hither and tither. I am however drawn to the silent blond boy at the back. He has the look of the newbie. Not confident enough to speak his mind or voice an opinion. But it is easy to see that he is confident within himself. It takes Iyawo all of five minutes to work out that he is Polish ( another talent she has which I lack).

Let me demonstrate my grasp of humanity. In the lift at the Eko a month ago with Iyawo and the little one and in walked in about four Air Stewardesses on their way back to the airport. The little one got started on his rolling his eyes and acting cute business which all women seem to love (I beg he did not get it from me oh). They soon start oohign and aahing and asking him all sorts of questions. Time for Dad to step in and show son how it is done. "So where are you guys from, Ghana?". Iyawo replies before they do. "No South Africa." Imagine African man that cannot tell difference between Ghana accent and SA accent. Things got a bit silent in the lift after that.

Anyway back to the move. So on day one things go swimmingly. I was amazed how fast our things were disappearing into the lorry. I wondered how come we were told it would take 5 days to move when half the house was gone in one day. Things slowed a bit on the second day but we were still getting closer to the bare bones. It was the third day that things took a turn.

As soon as alpha male stepped off the lorry I knew he was unhappy. As he was an Arsenal fan I thought he might be concerned about their upcoming relegation battle this season what with Thierry va va vooming off to greener pastures. But no. It turns out that the tables had turned so to speak. Whereas the last few days it had been two Brits and one Pole. Today due to a scheduling catastrophe we had two Poles and one Brit. One very unhappy Brit. He promptly dispatched the Poles upstairs whilst he stayed downstairs and regaled us over and over with how unhappy he was with them. Their greatest offence being that they did not speak English. Actually they did, but not in the Essex way. Now these guys were not illegals. They had actually been transferred from the Polish arm of the moving company.

Less than an hour later another van pulled into the drive and we were greeted by another chap who had apparently been summoned by Alpha Male to help him out. So there you have it. A rebalancing of life's forces. We then endured hour after hour of grumbling, mumbling verbiage about how the suits in the office were idiots and how could they have made such an error and thank God that Alpha male 2 had shown up otherwise Alpha male 1 would have had to have lunch alone and surely the world would have come to an end. Meanwhile upstairs the Poles worked their way through several bedrooms all they while communicating in a very guttural, under breath sort of way. I hate to imagine what they were muttering.

The next morning things were back to normal. This time there were no Poles to be seen. So what happened? "They've been sent on another job." So what do you have against them I enquired?" "I just don't like them" came the reply. "They come over here, they take our jobs and they do it at a lower rate making life harder for us". So ever the advocate of the dark side I put forth the following for discussion. "Imagine your office in the US, running short of manpower, put out a call to the UK office for some hardy men like yourselves. In return they were prepared to pay you less than they would pay the home grown staff but for you it was still double what you currently earned and of course there was the bonus of being in the US of A? What would you do?" Silence. Then alpha Male 1 replies "well once you put it like that I guess I can see it from their point of view." Alpha male 2 nodded vigorously (obviously overcome at the depth of my reasoning).

So there you have it. I have single handedly built a bridge across Europe. Now for the Middle East........

No one said it would be easy!!

2007-06-29T19:28:00.001Z

So let me start by saying that even a rose needs fertiliser to grow right? Horse manure in the ground. Beautiful rose in the summer. (I assume that in between you need to sprinkle rose seeds or something like that otherwise it would be just like horse manure for ever right?) Life is like that. Right now we are in the smelling horse manure but no rose in sight phase of our move.

Firstly, the shippers. They have given us varying timescales for the move ranging from 3 to 8 weeks from London to Lagos. Eight weeks? Were you planning on driving? So now they have said it only takes three weeks by sea. So what happened to the other 5 weeks. Admin. apparently. Hmm. Due to company policy I have to use them so no way out. Then they say that we will need a 40 footer and a 20 footer for our load. Now I am the first to admit that I have a lot of shoes but damn. So I ring around friends that have moved back in the past year to check it out and it turns out that most of them struggled to fill a 40 footer. Some of them even had cars in theirs which we are not. So again back to the shippers who say that it is because the rates to ship to Nigeria are high. Wth??? However, if I wanted it shipped to NY it would be much cheaper and probably faster. Now my geography is a bit rusty but I am damn sure NY is on a different continent and whilst it would be quite nice to ship the stuff to NY I would find the commute a tad difficult every morning just to change clothes for work. Either these people need to get off whatever medication they are taking or I need to up my dosage but somehow we are not on the same flight plan.

We now move on to the issue of the clearing agent. Apparently if I have lived in Nigeria for more than 90 days over the past two years I cannot bring in any new stuff as this would mean I was going to become resident\ or am already resident? or was it President? (the agent in Lagos is French and we were on a GSM line so I could only make out half of what he was saying and of that half I could only make out a third due to this accent). Considering that I have spent at least two weeks a month in Naija over the last year then I have definitely blown the 90 day rule whatever it is. He wants to know if I will be bringing any new furniture or flat screens. Apparently I am not allowed leather? I guess this means I will have to leave the chaps behind? And the vest?

I should point out at this stage that details are not my strong point. I am a big picture kind of guy. I want to move to Naija. I give you a call. Some men show up and take my stuff, we shake hands and when I arrive in Naija in 4 weeks - presto bingo, my plasma screen is on the wall and Chelsea are on to their next Premiership cup. This is the way my mind works so all this detail is sucking the very life out of me. Aba kilode?

All is not well on the Naija end either. Landlord has not received his funds. Said funds were transferred by my company two weeks ago. Only one slight problem. The person who did the transfer henceforth referred to as Ode, didirin, olodo etc forgot to put ladlords name on the transfer. So a bank in London is sitting pretty and gaining interest on said funds whilst landlord is keeping the recharge boys in Lekki very happy with international calls to your truly. "Toks I've just been to the bank............"

Let me not even start on the "agents" as one of them is a "lawyer" and I would hate to start life in Naija in front of the beak answering to a defamation and libel charge. Is it actually possible to do that to estate agents?

Meanwhile Iyawo is out shopping for even more stuff that we won't be able to fit into the container. I hope you can understand my thinking maybe I should just plant myself in the manure instead?

Under normal circumstances.

2007-06-21T19:28:00.000Z

Yesterday and today have been a bit surreal what with driving through the near empty streets of Lagos. At once happy at the lack of the usual traffic stresses and strains but tinted by the sadness of the fact that it had to come to this.

Today I made the fatal error of going to Lekki second roundabout to pick up something only to get stuck in the mother of all traffic jams. It was caused by the poor souls queuing for petrol who having queued in the usual Naija style i.e. not in a line but side by side not only blocked off the three lanes on their side of the expressway but then meandered across the sandy central divide and proceeded to block all three lanes of the incoming expressway as well. Oh what fun we had sitting in the sweltering heat. These sort of thing gives one time to ponder -what planet are these people from? Is there a logical reason or anywhere in the world where you would decide without a second thought that it was okay to block oncoming traffic, on an expressway,just because you could not be arsed to queue properly?

We were eventually saved by the might of the highly unpopular boys of the Nigerian Police Force. I say boys because when I first saw them marching purposefully towards the head of the traffic I thought to myself - these chaps look very young. However they soon made swift work of totally clearing at least a single lane on either side. and we were on our way. r not quite. I was surprised bit not shocked to see a transport lorry drive past into which they all scrambled and headed off leaving those still stuck behind to their own devices. Under normal circumstances you would have expected them to hang around to ensure that all the traffic was cleared. No?

Yesterday feeling famished I stopped off at a local fast food place in Lekki Phase 1 to grab a bite to eat. I queued about a foot behind the chap in front of me and waited for his order to be dispenses. Behind me walked in two ladies. One walked around the chap to the edge of the counter and tried to get the attention of the lady serving. The other first stood to his side and then somehow inserted herself between him and me- literally and figuratively stepping on my toes. I did not say a word and waited for the chap in front to finish getting served.

The lady who has inserted herself then moved up to the counter and started to order. The waitress then pointed out that I was next in line (good girl). The lady then turned around and eyed me like she was seeing me for the first time. "Him?" she asked. "Yes me" I responded. "Was I invisible to you before?". Her response "why are you disgracing yourself?" "aren't I allowing you to order?" See me see trouble oh. What I wanted to say was "you better step back before I bxxxx slap you into next Wednesday" but being the English gentleman that I am I just headbutted her instead (just kidding). I actually said "Madam there is no need for us to argue. Have a lovely evening". God the restriant however the resettlement might not go as smoothly as I had imagined. It is one thing to get aggro from area boys but aggro from area girls?

Standing at the counter at the Virgin desk at the Hilton on Monday checking on flights back to Lagos as I did not want to get stuck in Abuja should the threatened strike commence on Tuesday. I had arrived that morning meaning to stay for two days but was nervous about that extending into a long weekend - in hindsight it was a good move on my part. Anyway I asked to be booked on the last flight that would be leaving at 7.45pm that evening. After a few minutes I could sense that the agent was flustered. "I cannot close the booking" she told her friend. Is it the last flight? another agent asked. "If it is then it has been cancelled." Why cancelled?" I asked. We don't think there will be enough fuel to get it back to Lagos he replied. So I got on my soapbox and made the following speech " Are you telling me that due to an imminent strike that has not yet even been confirmed you are saying that Virgin Airlines is already running short of fuel? Under normal circumstances (see it all started on Monday with that phrase) I would expect a reputable "world class" airline like Virgin to have a fuel dump\depot storage where you would have at least a week\month's supply of fuel in case of emergencies and in times like this". One of the girls looks up at me with pity in her eyes and says do you not know you are in Nigeria? There are no normal circumstances here. I had to settle for a Tuesday flight.

Virgin got their revenge by putting me on a plane I am sure was piloted by a trainee. I have always wondered why the following announcements are never made on board airlines. "Welcome on board ladies and gentlemen. Relax and enjoy the services of XXX Air. My name is Bob, your Pilot. This is my first flight since graduating from flight school. Do not let the fact that I am a trainee or that I was bottom of my class disturb you in any way as I am ably assisted by co-Pilot Jim who has vast experience of flying having repeated the course four times. So sit back and relax and I will be hopefully speaking to you again after hopefully taking off safely".

We were thrown all over the sky and once almost out of the sky. The plane danced around with such force that it was as if it was actually being manipulated by a hidden puppet master. It got so bad that we had the usual holding of breath, screaming and the strong silent ones who just kept checking their watches and calculating how much of the 55 minutes was left. Under normal circumstances you would expect an announcement after the drama was over but .....ah well you know the drill by now.

Monday morning I was at a meeting with a Telco in Abuja which as usual was in half darkness and littered with the ex civil servants who are still employed there in various states of slumber. Some had gone past the state of slumber, given up any pretense of work and were in deep sleep. I was walking towards the room of one of the Directors when I heard someone trying to get my attention. Adjusting my eyes to the gloom I managed to make out a man approaching me. "Sir, I hope I do not embarrass you with what I have to say as I mean no offence and under normal circumstances I would not be in this position. However my wife is currently in hospital and I do not even have the transport money to go and see her let alone pay for her treatment. Is there any way you can help me?" I fished out some money from my pocket all the while wondering how a nation with such a wide abundance of natural resources could not provide any relief for the common man. A common man who had to sacrifice his dignity at the feet of strangers.

Oil has been discovered off the coast of Ghana. I mean big oil. Huge reserves. Their President has said he looks forward to the economic changes that the revenues from this discovery will bring. Somehow this makes me very sad. I like Ghana and Ghanaians. They are nice, happy, humble people. They drive on the proper side of the road. They queue. they very rarely pay social visits in the middle of the night armed with guns. I dread what is to come. How long before the first Hummers hit the streets?

I also wonder what the impact of this find will be for Nigeria. I was speaking to a contact at Shell following the announcement that Shell is cutting their workforce in Nigeria. Why the cuts? He tells me that three years ago Shell was pumping 1 million barrels but now they are lucky to pump 200,000. So I imagine that if all the oil companies continue to have problems in the Delta I wonder how long before they decide that it is just not worth it anymore. What is the tipping point? When do you decide to make do with less but constant and safe in Ghana versus more but dangerous and deadly in Nigeria? Does Nigeria have a plan for when the oil runs out? Under normal circumstances you would think so. But then.............

I would like to end with a joke. When I arrived in Abuja I saw a sign that Nigeria was bidding to host the Commonwealth Games. Here's the joke. Imagine the headlines on CNN. Nigeria bids to host Commonwealth Games. Denies rumours that winners of all key competitions have already been decided and notified. Boom and Boom.

Off to London tomorrow and under normal circumstances how was your week?

I READ THE NEWS TODAY OH BOY!

2007-06-16T16:33:00.000Z

I have never felt as elated about the future of this country as I did yesterday when the Supreme Court ruled that Andy Uba did not have a right to be Governor of Anambra State due to one small itsy bitsy technicality which both himself, Obasanjo and INEC had somehow managed to overlook. Anambra State already had a Governor. His term does not run out till 2010 and so the elections in the state were a farce.

To add even more joy, Andy Uba then called a Press conference in Abuja ( I wonder whether he first went to see Yar Adua for special dispensation and was told "no show") in which he handed in his resignation with immediate effect and bowed to the Supreme Court ruling. I mean is this a new Nigeria or what? Would the same thing have happened at the last election or would Uba not have hired some area boys to burn down the Supreme Court?

I know I continue to bang the drum but slowly and surely it will stop to be business as usual and this thing called democracy will start to spread it's wings and exert itself. I can feel it.

On a separate note Lagos itself is pumping with adrenaline. Maybe it is still the honeymoon period for the new Governor but there are so many projects going on and so much activity that I cannot wait to see the comparison in 4 years time. There is just this whiff of change in the air. Of optimism. Of hope.Don't get me wrong it is not all rosy but somehow it is not all doom either. I hope it does not end in disappointment.

On a final note. Watch out for Yar Adua. Something tells me all the kings horses have underestimated his resolve. I see something behind those steely eyes that gives me a feeling that there are going to be many surprises from this man along the way.

Now back to my palaver with my prospective Landlord and his "agent".

Decisions. Decisions.

2007-06-09T22:01:00.000Z

1. Which internet service provider to use? SWIFT or STARCOMMS
2. Which phone provider to use?
3. Where is the best place in Lekki to buy diesel to stockpile?
4. Which security outfit is the best? ( I would prefer the ones that sleep during the day not through the night)
5. Where does one buy DSTV? ( I need to watch Chelsea win the Premier League. Again.)
6. Is there a place where you can hire a car ( and driver)? and I don't mean by the hour.
7. Best place to buy electronics (TV, stereo etc)?

That's it for now but I am sure there will be more.

Signed. Sealed. Delivered. I'm gone.

2007-06-07T06:17:00.000Z

So the letter finally arrived in the post. We are off to Nigeria for at least a year. No more Virgin flights every month. No more 'chilling' in the lounges. No more microwave foods. No more tears down the phone (from me obviously. You think those people miss me when I am gone?).

We are off to Lagos. The home of the brave and the land of the er braver. Everything had been going so well. Iyawo and the smaller kids had come around last week to have a look at the school and I had shown them around the house that we will be living in, in Lekki, etc etc. We were very nicely getting into the groove of "living in Lagos" whilst safely ensconced in the Eko Hotel(lol). Then yesterday I had a meeting with a lovely lady whose child has autism to enquire about care for our daughter (more on autism care in Lagos later) and she not only bust my bubble she practically blew it apart.

This is how it goes. I meet up with her in her very swish place in Lekki and we are gabbing away about autism and the facilities available in Lagos etc etc when she casually mentions that they are selling their house and moving to VGC as the husband is prepared to spend every penny available for the treatment of his son. She had recently come back from a treatment centre in SA and that whole trip had cost over N2m (ouch). Anyway I then mentioned that we had found a home just a few streets down from her and there was this silence (which for her was unusual) followed by "are you sure you want to live in Lekki?" I explained that it was based on
the fact that the kids would all be in schools within a mile radius of the house. She was then glancing back and forth at her sister -in-law like should I tell him or should I leave him in peace.

Finally, she blurts out, "what about the armed robbers?". I tell her that I am not sure where they go to school. She does not see the humour in this (but I hope you do dear reader). She then proceeds to give me a litany of the things she has been through including but not limited to:

- snatching of her brand new X5 at gunpoint at her gate after she came back from collecting her child's birthday cake (they did not even have the courtesy to let her take the cake out of the car first)
-attempted snatching of her Jeep at gunpoint as she drove to church with her kids in the car
-attempted break in to her property
-several attempted robberies on her street
-robbery of UBA bank on Admiralty way etc etc
- lack of police presence during any of the above although the alarm centre (private security firm) could mostly be counted on to respond

This was all very sobering and brought me back down to earth with a bang. reading about armed robberies in the paper and actually sitting a foot away from a victim are two totally different things. So I asked her for the name of her agent to go and see some places inVGC! I rang the agent and had a long chat about the pros and cons of living in VGC. Yes it is a beautiful tranquil and safe environment. Yes they have their own transformer so NEPA is not an issue. Yes there is a park and a sports centre and the kids can ride their bikes on the roads. All good and dandy. Then the kicker. Casually she says "of course you will have to leave home at 6am to get your kids to school on time!"

So it looks like it will be yours truly and the armed robbers fighting it out for supremacy in Lekki where you can sleep till 7am and still get your kids to school on time.

How I invented COOL TV.

2007-05-23T17:39:00.000Z

After my time, or term, at the Police College in Ikeja, it was still felt that my attitude was not quite right. Coming from a conk middle class Yoruba family there was not much in the way of flexibility in the attitude department. Any slight change in attitude was met with concern, suspicion, alarm and of course the trusty belt\whip\shoe routine. Having exhausted herself on the belt\whip\shoe agenda my poor mother had resorted to hiring the junior alfas from the mosque to do the whipping on her behalf. These very same people who were teaching me about the love that Allah had for me would arrive at my home to beat the hell out of me and then have the audacity to sit down to a hearty well prepared meal, bid me adieu and be on their way back to the mosque in time for the evening prayers. Now I cannot read or speak Arabic but I am damn sure in those prayers is stuff about loving your fellow man, treating him like a brother, do onto him etc etc. For sure.

So anyway, after a rash of non acceptable behaviour comprising playing football with my mates after school, coming home late and allowing my grades to drop to C level (or is that sea level) it was decided that the best option for me was to change my environment. Now by this I imagined that I would move from the rough and tumble of Igbobi College (up IC) to the more genteel and slightly camp confines of Kings College. They of the white uniforms and jackets and slightly snobby attitudes. But no way. My mother had a more drastic change in mind and so it was that I found myself trussed up in a polyester safari suit, nylon shirt, rayon socks and patent leather shoes on board a flight to the USA (I was an early starter in the fashion stakes). Looking at myself in the mirror before I left I was just thinking how hot I looked with my bad self. Looking back now I realise that I was actually more than hot. I was flammable. This was in the days when they still allowed smoking on planes. One stray spark from a cigarette and home boy would be telling another story today. If at all.

Ah Cincinnati Ohio. What a lovely place. All rolling hills and cool fresh breezes. My aunt that I was going to stay with had registered me at a local high school. I was so nervous on my first day but was lucky to meet one of the nicest people I have ever come across in my life. One of those teacher\mentors that basically save your life. He looked after me for the two years that I was enrolled and I must say that it is probably very hard to find teachers like that today. His care was absolute. I cannot count the number of times I would hide out in his office, chatting, gossiping whilst he hand wrote thank you letters to all the donors to the school of which there were hundreds. Every single one of them got a thank you note. Handwritten. Every year. Respect.

I graduated with very good SAT scores and was then shipped off to Nashville for University to live with my uncle - the disciplinary dentist. And his wife - the disciplinary dentist. Needless to say I had the best teeth in college. I am sure even some horses would have traded gnashers with me. However, there was a fly in my ointment. My uncle and aunt were from the old school. TV was strictly a no no during the school week and only for a few hours on the weekend. Radio was okay and it was whilst listening to radio shows nightly that my already overactive imagination really shot into the stratosphere. In those days they would do dramas, comedies. musicals on varying nights on the radio and I really do think that not being fed the visuals via TV allowed me to build up quite a treasure chest of images, plots etc.

Regardless of this however my addiction was to television and being denied it only made me hunger for it more. What was I to do? The minute I go back from college it would be staring at me - calling my name, teasing me, testing me and after a while I came up with a plan. The way my relatives checked to see if I had been watching TV when they got back home in the evenings was to touch it, feel it, see if it was warm\hot. So I had to find my way around that. Oh the nights I spent in my room, working on formulas, hypothesis, etc - even Einstein would
have been proud of my dedication to cracking this conundrum.

Toks minus TV does not compute
therefore Toks must = TV
therefore Toks must find way to watch TV
however TV must remain cool.

Hmmm. The answer came to me in a flash. It was a moment of divine inspiration and goes to show that one must always pay attention to adults as there is so much that one can learn from them. One Sunday my aunt cooked a pot of stew. As it was a very hot day and we were going out she decided it was best that she stick it in the freezer before we left. Suddenly it all made sense. I could not wait for the following day to try out my plan.

As soon as I got back the next day I emptied out the fridge and stuck the TV in there. It was only a small portable so no problem. I then monitored the temperature on the TV over the next few hours. Over the next of days I then calculated exactly how long the TV had to be in the fridge in relation to the arrival time of my aunt and uncle. Within a week I had got it down to an art wherein I could come back from school, watch TV for say an hour, freeze it for a time and then place it back on its stand with enough time for it to return to "room temperature" within a few minutes of their arrival. Voila. The advent of cool TV.

There was one downside. My aunt could never work out why her food kept going off all of a sudden and I do feel guilty at the number of times they had to call out the Fridge repair guy who funnily enough could never find a problem with the appliance. Ode. Didirin. Did he not know there was an evil genius in the house?

Next up I am put in a dormitory on campus to prepare me for the "real world". With real girls. My own TV. My own bank account with actual money. Oh yes, Allah Akbar. God is indeed great.

Naija Bloggers meeting in Lagos

2007-05-14T19:44:00.000Z

Jeremy and I are organising a gathering of Nigerian bloggers in Lagos (venue/date tba). All Naija bloggers (bloggers in Nigeria, Nigerian or otherwise) are invited to the first ever meeting of bloggers in Nigeria.

This event will allow you to meet other bloggers, talk about your blog (if you wish), read some of your pieces (if you wish), or learn what the blogging craze is all about (there will be free tuition provided on setting up your blog).

Special guests - announced shortly. Anonymity will be provided for those who wish to remain so.

Those who wish to particpate vitually (via IM or webcam), please let us know.Soft drinks and nibbles provided.

If you want to come, please email: jeremy@bakareweate.com (if you are an anonymous blogger, we will not reveal your identity)