Nigeria on A Geek's Life

Coming Up For Air

Sun, 27 Mar 2022 02:27:35 +0000

Photo by Max van den Oetelaar on Unsplash

It feels somewhat trite, given what is afoot in the world, to be riled up about life in my gilded prison corner of the world. The Ukraine and Russia conflict looms large of course, but for all the outpouring of support - and some might say posturing - it feels more like a cause célèbre, than anything else. As others have pointed out thousands more have lost their lives in Yemen,. The Iraq and Afghanistan wars were hardly less gruesome for ordinary civilians. Closer home, it seems like Nigeria teeters more on the edge of imploding, with power, security and the general hardship levels all running away in the wrong direction. Of course, concurrent occurrences of bad things does not make any of them less ‘bad’. One can only hope that the energies expended in mobilizing and blanketing the air waves with the plight of Ukrainians is also extended to other (blacker and browner) bodies.

Cautionary Tales...

Fri, 27 Aug 2021 05:47:16 +0000

Image Copyright Sky News

Hailing, as I do, from a corner of the world in which colonization has left its mark in more ways than one, I cannot help but see the stark similarities between the Afghanistan story and that of my other country. Two podcast episodes from the Rest is History podcast (a general one and one specifically focused on the First Anglo-Afghan War) provided some context to the history of the country, dotted as it has been with inter-tribal frictions and the burden of being prized as a gateway location. The similarities appear to be more than superficial: both countries have had borders drawn on the back of envelopes splitting tribes between countries, have fairly well established Islamic insurgencies and have significant deposits of natural resources. There is also the British (read East India Company / Royal Niger Company) connection too, the tip of the spear by which both regions were economically exploited.

COVID Days

Mon, 25 Jan 2021 18:23:00 +0000

The other country both enthrals and frustrates me in equal measure, which I’m sure is no news to most others who like me have a foot in both worlds. The events of the past few weeks have left that tension in sharp relief for me in the form of two members of my extended family coming to terms with COVID. That they were in two very different parts of the country only served to underscore how dire the situation could be, the influence and contacts with people of authority in the medical establishments - nay death traps - they spent most of their with time in counting for very little in the overall scheme of things. They are out of the woods now, for which we are all thankful, though the bitter after taste - and light pockets - lingers. One wonders how much hope the common man still has in the event of a medical emergency back there.

Fighting for the Light

Sun, 18 Oct 2020 14:01:00 +0000

There is not a lot to say this week except to say that the events in Nigeria with the #EndSARS protests have been particularly encouraging, not least because they prove that the trope about Nigerians being endlessly resilient and willing to accept broken systems is patently false. Beyond the willingness to hit the streets day in day out, the speed with which systems of support and organization have sprung up and have been deployed at scale has been a thing of fascination. Young Nigerians do have the tools, the desire and the nous to make a difference, long may it continue!

Stripping, (TV) Binges and Thinking About Thinking

Mon, 05 Aug 2019 19:53:03 +0000

By some unexpected twist of fate, I found myself heading into Central London on the hottest day of the year, a fairly tropical 37 degrees Celsius, and that for the first time since last December. The destination was the Nigeria High Commission on Northumberland Avenue, the plan to get my expired Nigerian passport renewed. To get here I had had to jump through several tortuous loops, not helped by the fact that my trips down to England are scheduled months in advance with impromptu trips being aggressively minimised due to the costs. My takeaway from my dealings with the appointment’s system was that the (re)scheduling system could be significantly improved - first, you sign up via a third party web service, pay the booking fees and then get randomly assigned a date, one you can only change to a more suitable one by emailing back and forth, no less than six in my case – which meant in addition to the heat I very much had my mind prepared for a terrible experience which could potentially take the whole day. It might have been my low expectations, but the experience was far less stressful than I expected, sans the slow pace at which things trundled along from picking a ticket to getting called for an initial review and then submitting my biometric details. If there was a silver lining, it was that the slow pace of things – and the very many other Nigerians there for similar purposes – increased the likelihood of running into people I had not seen in a long time; 20 plus years and two kids in one case. That the most unsettling thing from all of that was wondering what the scrawny lad I ended up sitting across from on the tube from Charing Cross to Waterloo was up - to whilst reading from 2nd Corinthians 1 in a huge bible - is a miracle of sorts (events at the High Commission didn’t leave me mentally drained as they have in the past) or perhaps only the symptom of my low expectations.

#18. The Dangerous Wife Incongruity

Sat, 22 Apr 2017 15:19:22 +0000

In self defence, Ifeanyi chained his feisty wife Obiageli to his I-pass-my-neighbour overnight. Her strength did not however prevent him from beating her first.

#16. The Quintuplet Problem

Wed, 19 Apr 2017 18:41:08 +0000

The blessing of the Lord maketh rich and adds no sorrow.. Blessed out of the blue with quintuplets, Imudia and Kemi might beg to disagree.

#15. The Mighty Militant Annihilation

Tue, 18 Apr 2017 17:59:33 +0000

A lack of endurance drew Endurance Ominisan to his demise at the hands of the Nigerian Police. Eleven days away from his girlfriend his limit.

#14: The Spontaneous Combustion Anomaly

Mon, 17 Apr 2017 19:36:40 +0000

Fresh from an Easter retreat, 100 Deeper Lifers escaped death by fire by the skin of their teeth; fire not from above but from within.

#11: The Drunken Love Peculiarity

Fri, 14 Apr 2017 23:03:20 +0000

Francis’ love for Ogechi stays strong even after thirteen years and a ménage à trois of sorts. The proof of his passion being drunken beatings.

#5 - The Yari Conjecture

Sat, 08 Apr 2017 20:24:54 +0000

Governor Yari’s explanation for the recent outbreak of Meningitis C in Nigeria? God sent it. 200 people have already got to ask Him why in person.

#2 - The Chima Conundrum

Wed, 05 Apr 2017 19:54:26 +0000

For feisty bouts betwixt the sheets, Chima repays disdain. His heart, once broken by a buxom belle Still aches in pain for her delights.

– For Chima the six who wants a ten.

The Road Taken

Wed, 01 Mar 2017 21:02:53 +0000

Me, Benin City and an intense desire for fried chicken was how I ended up here; walking along Airport Road looking for a Chicken Republic. Having spotted it from the window of the speeding cab ferrying me from Ring Road to the neither-here-nor-there hotel I planned on sleeping over at on Ihama Road, I grossly underestimated the distance. That only became apparent once my cravings had gotten the better of me and I was back on the road, in the sweltering heat, plodding along whilst wondering what had gotten into my head.

Of Weddings, Cheesecake and Paper Planes

Tue, 10 May 2016 20:58:31 +0000

The somewhat impromptu trip to Lagos was designed around three main objectives; making an appearance at a (self-proclaimed) protege’s wedding, dinner with the Lagos based elements of my old work crew and appeasing my father, who as early as New Year’s Day had begun to sound his dissatisfaction at my conspiring to avoid making what used to be an annual trip to Nigeria last year. For the wedding, the plan was to arrive at 10.00 am, 9.00 am invitation notwithstanding. That decision was one I rationalised away by assuming that as with all things Nigerian, a certain element of tardiness was expected. By the time I arrived at 10.30 am - sweating profusely following my ill thought out attempt to walk till I found a yellow cab - I was as undressed as I could be, my tie slackened to let what precious little fresh air there was get to my skin and my suit dispensed with. That meant I had to find somewhere to cool off for a few extra minutes and get my outfit put together again before popping into the venue. In the end I had to settle for the wing mirror on a parked car, studiously avoiding the gaze of the soldiers sat on the bench only a few feet away. Once in the building proper, I managed to find a seat next to a rotating fan to ease my pain.

On Lagos

Tue, 26 Apr 2016 12:19:27 +0000

That my relationship with Nigeria is somewhere between strained and non-existent is something I have made no bones about time and time again. That sense of lostness rather than easing with time has only become stronger, the key events in my life over the last few years - Newcastle, the bookend to a horrendous year of work and the somewhat forced decision to not return to the bedlam and then H - all chipping away at what bonds are left, leaving them increasingly tenuous.

On Language, and Aspiration

Fri, 11 Sep 2015 12:30:00 +0000

In the opening chapter of his autobiography, Hunger of Memory, Richard Rodriguez explores his introduction to the English language, and the strain his commitment to mastering it places on his relationship with his parents. Being Mexican immigrants to America in the 1970’s, their primary language of intimacy and engagement is Spanish, their efforts in English being halting and deeply accented, even though his mother is an excellent speller of words. The emotion most stirred in those early days - when he as the up and coming scholarship boy gets to be out and about with them - is one of embarrassment and perhaps frustration at their limitations. For him, as with most people looking to escape the limitations of a certain kind of background, aspiration is a keen motivator, one that drives him to seek to immerse himself in knowledge and books, and take up the manners, airs and graces of the class and culture he looks up to.

3-5 go

Fri, 10 Jul 2015 11:30:39 +0000

Amara U, Flickr

It is perhaps indicative of just how activity-starved my life has been lately that all it takes is a week’s notice for me to drag myself across the 397 odd miles down south to join K, family and parents in celebrating 35 years of staying married. In fairness to her, Royal Mail had a hand in the late invitation; when she texted me frantically that Friday afternoon, it was with a mind to chide me for my legendary tardiness. Only my strenuous denials backed up by the fact that I had moved houses recently saved me in the end. Long story short, I ended up on Friday night in the comparatively upscale setting of South Harrow, the hub around which we all converged - from every nook and cranny of the world it seemed, Scotland ably represented by yours truly.

The Way The World Ends: On Loss, and Lostness

Wed, 13 Aug 2014 19:09:23 +0000

It is sometime after 5pm – between chomping down on a very meaty beef burger and swigging from a can of apple juice - that the call comes in. Up until then, I have been having the exact weekend I had in mind when I dragged myself away from work to catch the 727 to Aberdeen Dyce airport a few days earlier: go-karting and then a BBQ, with the prospect of Lakeside shopping with B. to come. The scene is one of self-indulgent relaxation; two grills fully stocked with burgers, chicken drumsticks and barbecue meat on the go, little children running about, wives and girlfriends munching on burgers and sharing intimate gossip moments, and men standing around the grill sipping from cans and surveying the scene - wife, 2.5 kids, picket fence and a few hundred quid to burn on a splurge in tow. It takes a while – probably the better part of ten minutes - before the gravity of the news begins to sink in. When I return to the three-way conversation I was having before the call, B senses there is something wrong. In response to her quizzical look, I motion for her to break out of the conversation and explain what has happened. All told, twenty minutes after hearing the news – give or take – my mood has morphed from indulged, self-congratulation to inner turmoil as I attempt to digest the news in the relative quiet of B’s.

Chaos and Nostalgia.. Postscript

Fri, 27 Dec 2013 20:14:21 +0000

In the end this trip - all ten days of it - was about absolution for sins yet to be committed. Unbeknownst to everyone I strove to meet up with, if I had my way, Nigeria would not feature on the holiday destination list for the next three years at least. So this was the last guilty splurge - the second time this year - where I sought to inhale as much of Nigeria and family as I could, like a free-diver does with oxygen before submerging.

In pictures.. Bits and Bobs...

Fri, 20 Dec 2013 22:14:30 +0000

Chaos and Nostalgia...5

Tue, 17 Dec 2013 20:49:52 +0000

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I get my sister’s old room back. I have been way for so long that I have to go back two house moves to the time I still had a room here, one that I shared with the kid brother in the house on 3rd Street.

I spend the bulk of the five days I spend in total in a haze of sorts - thanks to the ASUU strike, there’s precious little going on about town. NEPA does it’s very best to limit how much access to my devices I get, battery life being a significant issue of sorts.

Chaos and Nostalgia...4

Mon, 16 Dec 2013 21:37:47 +0000

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By 7.20am, I am in a cab, speeding towards the Yaba Motor Park. The plan is to grab a seat on an early bus to Benin, and then on to Ekpoma. Overnight my Mum has tried to call me several times. My gamble - forwarding my UK mobile to a Skype Out number- has failed spectacularly; no thanks to the dodgy internet I’ve got. The forwarded calls come in but I can’t answer them with any decent quality. :( That early on a Sunday morning, Lagos is already agog – blaring loud speakers, shrill cries of hawkers and bus conductors alike and a steady stream of pedestrians.

Chaos and Nostalgia...3

Sun, 15 Dec 2013 21:25:36 +0000

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I wake up to singing - slightly muffled but loud enough to filter through to that neither here nor there place between sleep and waking up, where ambient sounds meld into dreams, or whatever it is conscious people do with their brains. When I make my way downstairs, it turns out it is the hotel staff having morning prayers.

I am low on cash, I half start to prepare to go out before I am minded to ask my friend V, who confirms an ATM is my best bet. I end up walking a few kilometres to the nearest bank, a Zenith Bank, and empty my cash passport in the process; 20,000 naira should cover an extra day’s hotel costs and the transport fare by road from Lagos to Benin which is next on the agenda.

Chaos and Nostalgia... 2

Sat, 14 Dec 2013 17:08:42 +0000

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Source

Nightfall….It is very nearly half past seven when we begin our final descent into Lagos. From the window, all that is visible is a thick, dense darkness, interrupted by clusters of lights here and there.

I’m surprised it’s not totally dark out there, my seat mate ventures. I shrug. Maybe generators I say. He seems unconvinced. Over the course of the last 6 hours, and some, he and I have conversed intermittently – first about the busyness that engulfs travel hubs like Schiphol and Heathrow, and La Guardia where the first leg of his flight originated. Then a moan about the delays in the cabin crew delivering head phones to use – from which it transpires that on his La Guardia – Schiphol leg he had to ask for them before he got them. The antics of our dear Bini granny also provide fodder for our intermittent, light hearted chatting. Descending into Lagos changes the bent of our conversation into something decidedly more Nigeria focused – mainly how in a few short minutes our motley of people who queued almost impeccably at Schiphol would disintegrate into a seething, boiling mass of one-uppers and corner cutters.

Chaos and Nostalgia...

Fri, 13 Dec 2013 13:32:03 +0000

I

Wheeling my suitcase – out of breath and breaking a small sweat – I arrive at the check- in counter a mere ten minutes before boarding is scheduled to commence. I am Lagos bound, via Amsterdam, thanks to a few extra holidays earned from being stuck in the middle of nowhere by the vagaries of the weather in October. Even though I have had over a month to plan, and pack, I have ended up facing the very real conundrum of having to decide between a pair of blue Levi’s jeans and blue Lee Cooper’s- difficult choice mind, and pondering if a phone and tablet might meet my computing needs this trip; enabling me to dispense with a laptop for the next ten days..

African shop...

Tue, 22 Oct 2013 19:24:06 +0000

I am carefully arranging the items in my shopping basket to make room for the 1800g tin of milk I have just taken off the shelf when someone to my left blurts out - Brossss.. Your Nidoooo milk no get part 2 o!

So engaged in that most banal of tasks have I been that I have not noticed him until he has spoken, pretty much directly into my left ear, I might add. When I look up, his face has a vague familiarity to it. I give it a few seconds before I give up trying to place the face, and assume he is someone I have run into at church, or one of the multiplied baby birthdays I have been forced to attend this year. I smile and explain my thinking behind grabbing the big tin - I come to this African shop on the corner of George and Fraser’s only so often, and for what it’s worth I try to make it worth my while.

Lostness

Mon, 06 May 2013 13:12:08 +0000

It was meant to be a quick year off work- away from what had quickly degenerated into a morale sapping, five-year-plan derailing slog complete with over-paid and over-pampered expat bosses more keen to leave a boot in to demonstrate their continuing relevance than develop fresh graduates. That year’s appraisal was the final straw - the spiel about the ranking process being an assessment of the best and the brightest and the slowest driver in a Formula 1 race being a darned good driver somehow put the lie to being ranked firmly in the middle percentile AND yet being offered a position of greater authority.

Pimping Mrs P

Tue, 05 Mar 2013 14:00:30 +0000

The woman clutched my arm. The first wave of feeling that hit me - when my mind frozen for an instant by the brazen grab - was fear, and then confusion, as she peered intently into my face with not even the faintest hint of recollection bouncing about in my head. She wasn’t wearing the flowing robes of an aladura prophetess, thus ruling out a smash-and-grab prophesy as the reason for her intrusion. Something about the deeply lined face, the light grey hair peeking out from underneath her tight head wrap and her uber thick lenses left me positively unsettled.

Between Two Worlds...

Tue, 01 Jan 2013 17:21:15 +0000

It will have been five years this year since I made the decision to up sticks, pack in the life I had lived up till that time and head out in the great unknown that was grad school, and what it would ultimately lead to a hiatus from Nigeria.

On paper I had a good life. A job that left me squarely ensconced in the safe, settledness of middle class Nigerian life, the prospect of a final salary pension with the option of cashing out at age 45 if I so wished, and the almost cast iron guarantee of an average 20% pay rise every two years thanks to an aggressive union.

6. The Return

Sat, 30 Jun 2012 16:55:49 +0000

MMA International

On a clear, cloudless day, Amsterdam from above looks like a patch work quilt, its greenery criss-crossed by a network of canals, an endlessly repeating pattern; broken only by the shore line, and a little further out the silhouettes of oil rigs, an enduring monument to the Dutch pride of place in the scavenging of North Sea Oil.

On the morning of my return to cold, wet and windy Aberdeen, I find myself half asleep, mentally pulling myself up by my very own bootstraps to remain awake as my City Hopper makes the hour forty five minute hop from Amsterdam to Aberdeen. Ever since an ever so slight snore embarrassed me a few years ago, I have tried to minimise future risks by limiting how often I fall asleep in public places. There were mitigating circumstances then - EJ might be best placed to tell if I indeed snore as a matter of course - I had stayed up all night studying just before a class test and I was very very knackered.

5. In Which I return to old haunts

Sat, 30 Jun 2012 16:50:53 +0000

My return to Benin was less about closure than reacquainting myself with the past all over again. As feared, there was an immediate fall out from the wedding – the next morning, Mother was at the door of the room I was sharing with the kid bro wanting to chat, and there could be no uncertainty about what her primary objective was. It was thus expedient to engineer a move away to the relatively low pressure of Aunt G’s back in Benin. I had an official reason for upping sticks and bailing - chasing up transcripts for the Welding Engineering PhD I may or may not require after all. The other unofficial reason was to catch up with Cousin E and her baby, Dara, the fifth and final member of the clan born since the last time I was out here.

Nigeria Bound...

Thu, 07 Jun 2012 13:07:49 +0000

A few weeks ago when I sat down to identify the five or six things that would make 2012 the perfect year, one of the things that eventually came to the fore was carrying over zero holidays in to next year. That by itself shouldn’t have been significant, but between hoarding my holidays for what I thought would be quarterly jaunts westward and my eventual withdrawal into my time honoured silo, I ended up needing a flurry of trips late in the year to claw back what was a huge holiday backlog. Even that was not enough, I ended up losing four days having carried over the maximum seven days into the new year.

In which I recall my memories of being a new hire...

Thu, 26 Apr 2012 11:15:44 +0000

Recovered from an old computer…. The joys of spring cleaning, I guess… Apologies for any one who finds the pidgin English excessively ‘conc’

Not too long ago I resumed at one of the much vilified companies in Nige… No complaints from me though, as long as them roger me my small thing at the end of the month and dem no kidnap me - No long thing.. I went to complete my in-processing a few weeks ago. Over serious naijaboy like me go organize better trouser and korrect shirt, come tuck-in with my glasses and fresh hair cut. Mehn.. Me sef trip na, as I look myself for mirror o.. Note to self – Next time take a photograph for posterity’s sake!

Links: 07 Oct 2011

Fri, 07 Oct 2011 18:07:27 +0000

Nigeria turns 51, bloggers go on the charm offensive with 419 reasons to love the country. My moan from 2009 still stands regardless.
The 216th Mersey side derby is ‘ruined by the referee’. The inevitable comments about ‘foreigners’ follow.
More from The Good Men Project - traditional gender roles
Amanda Knox walks free - justice or a travesty?
For better, for worse, until two years doth us part?
In her b(rea)st interest? The $1m dollar insured boobs
Shell complicit in military excesses in the Niger Delta?
What’s in a number? Nothing, says the Good men Project.
How the discipline of blogging is a stepping stone to become a good writer.
Giving women the visibility they deserve?
Steve Jobs passes - TIME’s official obituary.

On tribal stereotypes

Thu, 15 Sep 2011 17:26:44 +0000

Being born on the campus of a Federal University in the ’80s, I grew up in what was a cultural multi-verse. On my street alone, one was as likely to run into a Pakistani anthropologist as a Cameroonian linguist, or a Scottish librarian for that matter. Over the course of growing up, these seemingly distinct cultures all bled into each other, till there was almost a multi-cultural sweet spot at the centre of it all.

Six degrees

Tue, 30 Aug 2011 12:31:24 +0000

Walking into the phone store in the bowels of the big sprawling mall that sits right next to the hell-hole I currently work at, my eyes are drawn to one of the lads at the till. My first impression is that he is Nigerian - what with his thick lips and his quick and easy smile. I am in-store to activate the 6 month’s free internet that should have come with the phone I bought. After much haranguing from my cousin about my being notoriously difficult to catch, I agreed to buy a blackberry - even though I am well aware of the madness being pinged at odd hours can cause.

Decisions, again

Thu, 18 Aug 2011 21:37:14 +0000

I turned down another job offer, opting to stay with the safer option (yet again). The first time it was to a competitor in my city, this time it was back to Nigeria, and a return to UX5 where I cut my teeth and learned the bulk of everything I know. There were a number of issues - a few powerful interests stacked up against me courtesy of toes I’d stepped on in the past, and the fact that I’d seen all that and done that before. The key sticking point was that the pay on offer was ridiculous - clearly designed to price me out of accepting (plus rumour has it that on of the lead engineers on the project had a candidate)..

Enhanced functionality

Fri, 08 Jul 2011 18:03:18 +0000

Got this in my email today.. Talk about inventive proselytising.. I am actually tempted to call the numbers on the car..

Of Nigerian Wives

Thu, 26 May 2011 18:06:27 +0000

Based on data extracted from this Nairaland thread.

I was bored at work so I took the liberty of trying to create an infographic from the pros and cons (for women) on the list. I shrunk the pros and cons into twenty one categories and gave each ethnicity a ‘+1’ where it was a pro, a ‘0’ where they were not assessed and a ‘-1’ where that category was marked as a con. The ‘pros’ have been condensed into a fraction measuring the potential returns on investing in a Nigerian woman, whilst the ‘cons’ have similarly been aggregated to give a measure of how ‘high maintenance’ a Nigerian woman can be. The size of the bubble is a measure of the chikability (how likely it is that a bloke’s toastings will gell).

It depends...

Wed, 02 Mar 2011 22:48:14 +0000

Huddled around broken tables in the decrepit drawing office that served as a lecture theatre back in the day, a lesson in thinking on one’s feet was forced into our heads. At that time it was impossible to know the importance of that moment, or even remotely suspect that it could be a lifesaver in the distant future. There were no flashing light bulbs, no pressmen, no stenographers capturing the moment, no markers denoting the time and space where a life altering truth was uttered.

Nigeria: What We searched for..

Fri, 10 Dec 2010 13:34:07 +0000

Google’s 2010 Zeitgeist makes for interesting read.. The summary from Google:

In the year of Nigeria’s 50th independence celebration, it was unsurprising that terms like “Nigeria” and “Goodluck Jonathan” ranked highly in the search trends. But the nation’s imagination was certainly captured by social networking, with “2go” topping the fastest rising list, and “Facebook” being the second most popular search by volume. Nigerian musicians “Terry G” and “Dagrin” also attracted significant online interest.

A blast of Nostalgia..

Sun, 09 May 2010 05:20:17 +0000

I miss the old days. Growing up on a University campus in Nigeria, books were my salvation and the BBC World Service was the information source. We didn’t have decent television (it was an archaic black and white National television set with aerials that never worked), didn’t have the internet, was the weird kid on the block, and generally stuck out like a sore thumb. I got my nose in books, the bulk of which were boring, ponderous, academic reads.

Weekend Randoms...

Sun, 21 Feb 2010 07:53:19 +0000

And I am learning to say no I let out in the night A bitter or a hopeful voice

- Montserrat Abello

I’m currently reading “Dance the Guns to Silence” a collection of one hundred poems in memory of Ken Saro Wiwa and the Ogoni 8. So far so good, but the poem I like the most is ‘And I am Learning to Say No’ (from which the above quote comes) by Montserrat Abello - its short, simple, resigned and dare I say quietly defiant - which is how I like poems :). I found, thanks to google, some other works by her here. Perhaps I am drawn to it because in many ways toughening up, learning to say no to people, is one of the major failings I think I have had in my life.

Its complicated..

Sun, 13 Dec 2009 15:41:40 +0000

This provides some background to this and this (number five)

She still wore her hair in a ‘fro… still wore only lip gloss… still wore a yellow shirt and black pants….still followed Liverpool… still had the dimple on her left cheek…. still wrote with her left hand… still kept a big jar of peanut butter in her fridge….still laughed at my inane jokes…still hummed whilst making her mean stew!

I could be forgiven for thinking that time had stood still…. and it was the first day again….. only she was more grown up… More alluring.. more woman less girl…

From the archives.....

Mon, 10 Nov 2008 23:47:00 +0000

A poem I wrote many years ago – when i was still a beardless teenager way back in Nigeria.. Enjoy…

Waiting for forever.

We had our hopes, we had our dreams, We somehow believed,in words and swords, We somehow believed, that one more coup, That some more troops, Would consign to the past, the pains we felt forever.

Somehow we believed, in sugar coated tongues, In “fellow country men”,In “khaki covered men” To wipe away the past, like a bad night’s dream forever..