Writing

Last week was about thinking about the underlying reasons for writing, this week was starting off on the journey towards sharpening our powers of observation, the idea being to hone our ability to find stories in the quotidian. A city-centre eatery late one night was my muse. \\\* It is a little after 8.30pm when the smell of French fries wafting in through the door draws me in. The first thing that strikes me as I stride through the door is how empty it looks, the bulk of the two-storied structure being cordoned off, with only the small section to the right of the counter open for use. I find the emptiness surprising given it is next to a major bus station and right in the centre of town. As I wait for the chance to order, I find myself behind three people, all decked out in the garb of people dressed to brace the cold, with the brightly coloured logo of a food delivery service gracing the insulated bags they hold. ...

Photo by Hannah Olinger on Unsplash --- One of my earliest memories of doing stuff with my mother is of a newspaper cutout, sheets of paper and her sitting beside me encouraging me to apply whatever iota of critical thinking I could summon to whatever was the task of the day, usually some Close Up essay competition or the other. I don’t recall us ever submitting any of those, the discipline of wrestling thoughts into semi-coherent arguments perhaps being the point of the entire exercise. That sense of writing as a vehicle for thinking aloud about a subject is one that has stayed with me over the years. ...

The quietness of Old haunts, to which one returns. Wash, Rinse, Repeat. Life

…Neither saint nor Tzadik nor prophet standing at the gate; he’s just another sinner who has somewhat sharper awareness and uses slightly more precise language to describe inconceivable reality of our world. He doesn’t invent a single feeling or thought – all of them existed long before him… He’s here, at our side, buried up to his neck in mud and filth. The Seven Good Years: A Memoir, Etgar Keret

I first heard the word Quotidian used in every day parlance in 2010 by one of my favourite authors, the British-Nigerian Poet and Novelist, Chris Abani in his TED 2008 talk On Humanity. The context within which he uses the word is the retelling of a story from his childhood, growing up as a young Ibo boy in Nigeria, having to kill a goat, but finding himself too sensitive to do so. In the end, Emmanuel an older boy who has been a boy soldier in the Biafran (Nigerian Civil) war comes to his rescue, putting his hands over the goat’s mouth and covering its eyes so he doesn’t have to see them whilst he kills the goat. In the story, Chris is moved by the duty of care the older, hardened ex-soldier exercises over him concerning the simple matter of killing a goat, given that he has been involved in fighting a war widely recognised as having led to the deaths of over a million people. That deeply emotive context seems to have left an indelible mark on me, and driven me to associate a double meaning with the word. Whilst normal, everyday things are quotidian, context often colours them in shades and nuances far more complicated than they seem or should be - hence the title of my blog Quotidian Things. ...

For the umpteenth time I am attempting to begin again. As to triggers for each prior iteration of these beginnings, I can blame various cataclysmic events – a delayed quarter life crisis which ended up with me starting over on a new continent, a short lived romance, and the sense of endlessly treading water being prime examples of some of these. On this occasion however, I cannot pinpoint a singular reason why; such has been the sort of year I have had – between the end of a good year of sorts with G and the significant uncertainties brought about by an unstable oil price regime. ...

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.

Out of the blue, Lorraine Hansberry’s A Raisin in the Sun came to mind this morning. I did a bit of googling and managed to find the full text of the Langston Hughes poem that inspired the title: A Dream Deferred. What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore– And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over– like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Or does it explode?

So John Terry lost the England football captaincy - strange to me considering the quite public exploits of Sven Goran Ericksson and Mark Pallios back in the day; the recent activities of Avram Grant and the fact that none of the names being touted as Terry replacements have covered themselves in glory in the past. He should simply have listened to the Vera show - and stayed off the friend’s ex… The bloke in the pod next to mine at work says footballers count money in millions of pounds and sense in pence.. Haterade maybe.. But this list of top ten gaffes makes an intriguing read.. ...