On my life, for my children

Just like that (snaps fingers) November ended with me drooling over Men in Gray.
My watch says Monday December 2 but it could be wrong. Since when do watches give the date? Last I heard, they told time.
Then again with all these modernization, cashless policies and what's not going on in Nigeria it really shouldn't come as a surprise if watches now serve as POS machines after all, most atm's in PH don't work, I keep curbing the urge to throw confetti and drapes around them and call them my work of art. Hmm... Graffiti is an idea.
Speaking of cashless Nigeria. I'd tell a tale of how Nigeria's cashlessness did not save my life (or come close to resembling life saving).
This tale begun on sunday with me feeling peevish and missing check-in by 3minutes.
As it happened, there were about 20 of us in the same boat as well. (Kinda makes you wonder how many people were on the flight) while we stood in front of the ticketing office for the 5th hour appealing, pleading and seeking ways to make the next flight about 13 tickets appeared for the next flight and were magically disappearing beneath our noses.

The saga of the day is something that'd make for a classic movie with the end credits revealing "Alejandro" riding off towards the sunset on his stallion with the fingers of the alluring "Sophia" daintily fastened around his impressive waist. Sadly the script didn't end that way.
It continued...
The day after found more people, human beings to be precise kneeling down in front of the ticketing agent for the same airline company. One person that got me really troubled was a mother with her children. She knelt down while her children stood looking forlorn behind her. The flight was delayed by 30minutes, she was still up to one hour early, she had checked in online yet she was refused a boarding pass.
As I watched the tears trail down the lady's cheeks the rule that the customer is king flashed and burned in my minds eye.
Okay in my case I admit I was wrong. I should have left the house about 5 hours before the time (like I did today because I have nothing else to do with my life but to come and sit in the airport all day for a 45 minutes flight - add 2 hours to that and I'd be snugly in bed in Lagos if I traveled by road) but come on! To make grown men and women grovel and beg before they are given boarding pass for a flight they paid for with their hard earned cash?
"Me thinks something is seriously wrong".
Oh in that classic movie I was talking about, the twist would be from the people selling tickets for twice the price behind the ticketing office, people(human beings) with police escorts traipsing in 20 minutes after the boarding gate has been closed and the general bullying of the little people.

At this point, it is safe to wonder when the cashless story would begin.

Through The Looking Bowl

I decided that rather than gush, fuss and ‘meow’ over how my silly brain turns to mush at the sight of a youngish man in gray hair, I’d talk about the solar eclipse (or lack of it).

I refuse to ponder over what in particular makes these men strike me as drop dead gorgeous and incredibly sexy.
I could see a lowly midget with gray hair and boom!
He’d turn into a 6’4 inch man with a mickey blue gaze and great potentials.
Sha, thank G*d for 2nd, 3rd and 4th impressions.
The annoying thing about this fetish is that once the distraction of the gray hair has been eliminated, these mortals loose their awesomeness and make me go “hiss! Total waste of drool.”
I have been known to leave the company I am with, walk up to a complete stranger and go “hi my name is…” because I noticed a sprinkle of sugar on his head.

Oh my!!

That could be it, sugar!!

Gray hair is somewhat white, sugar is somewhat white and I have a sweet tooth so…

Oh my.

Now I have figured out the connection. I’m counting on the good news reaching my brain and disabling the hormone/sensor/nerve or whatever blah that sparks and jiggles on sight of it.

I received a broadcast message that the eclipse will ‘arrive’ by 13:03 in Port Harcourt be at the highest point by 14:43 and eventually depart around 16:00hrs.
Somewhere along the wait, I dozed off.
When I woke up, outside from my window was gray and windy like that point in a romantic flick when the guy runs after the girl and goes “I choose you Violetta! You are my sun, my moon my heartbeat. I want to be with you, I love you!”
Ok maybe not so dramatic but you get the picture.
Remembering what I was waiting for I scrambled off the bed, ran down the stairs and bolted out the door only to run back in almost immediately because of the heavy downpour that started abruptly.
Determined to see the ‘thing’ (thanks to bbm updates and whatsapp broadcast messages) but not wanting to get wet, I charged into my fathers room and hopped from one foot to the other pleading until he agreed to give me his precious umbrella with its seal unbroken.

Armed with an oversized umbrella, sunglasses and rubber shoes, I went outside threw my neck backwards and began to search for the sun...

I am much too distracted to go further.
It has been serious ages past since I licked a cube sugar but as I write, I can see this lump of sugar complete with droopy eyes, nose and a lopsided smile in my minds eye singing “lick me-lick me, lick meee” in a shrill tra-la-la scratchy voice.

Erm…

Bye?

To go

On Saturday the 26th of October (best month in the year FYI) I attended a wedding!
Snugly nestled between my father and mother dearest, I realized 2hrs into the event that had been asleep for about all of the first hour.
Problem was not that I was unhappy, unexcited or sent from ‘the village’ its just that hearing 20 people say "I yam am" and "I doom do" one at a time over and over again gets boring after the 3rd round of ‘consents’.
Coupled with the fact that most of the service was in a language I do not speak or understand it became extremely hard to say “No!" and "Get thee behind me.” to the evil spirit coaxing my eyes shut.
After the service, I went for the reception.

It was there I fell in love.

Not with the groom as someone like me might assume (or the bride either!) but with the family receiving the new bride. From where I sat, I could feel love, understanding and unity as the groom’s siblings and kin scurried around looking all bothered, anxious but happy. Welcoming guest, offering hugs/smiles and making people generally feel at home. I wanted to be a part of that family!

Watching them in action brought strength to the saying that getting married is easy but staying married is the big deal.

The thing with weddings is that no matter what your reason for getting hitched is, after the initial badaboom-badabing it becomes a "do you?” "I do" and swearing to stick to your spouse for better or for worse, seven heads and all affair.
The old difference between the East and Western cultures was that while the Western worlds accepted disagreement and seperation between couples when the reason for doing so was justifiable the Eastern culture frowned upon it.
The rule then was that "unna talk say na for better and for worse, you dey run the together show abi? As yawa don gas now, you wan check out? C'mon fall in!! Wetin you bin think say the ‘for worse’ part resemble?"

Then, divorces were not as common.

You come in freely, you make an agreement, and you sign a contract yeah?

You stick to it.

We have failed unions and then we have FG and ASUU.
The difference between these troubled couples is that for the latter, aside from the 'biological children' suffering from the bitter arguments and hurtful exchanges, there is the petty trader in the shopping complex on campus caught somewhere between the standoff that suffers as well.

Worried, her fear is that soon her eldest daughter would go into full-blown prostitution, as she cannot afford to take care of the younger children due to the strike action. The daughter calls these men that drop her off at unholy hours of the day her ‘friends’. They give her an amount of money that ‘she does not work for’. She knows she should stop her but Junior the baby of the house is on admission in the University Teaching Hospital which comprises striking/absent doctors and she is broke.
You see, their father is dead and his family shunned her.
She sold the rest of what she owned to acquire the shop and get it stocked. It became the source of their livelihood, security and all.

I have stopped obsessing over the knowledge that a huge chunk of taxpayer’s money is being wired across border to develop our neighboring sister countries like Chad, Benin, Cameroon and Niger. These nice people are offering our Nigerian children uninterrupted educational supply for a hefty sum, a sum which they use to upgrade their schools, communities and amenities. Who cares that Nigeria is loosing the money we say we do not have?

Finally, these series of nuptial celebrations have got me fantasizing about my dashing prince charming and our happily ever after.
Public service announcement; I’m getting married!!
Hehehe

Speckled Impression

There’s this song I grew up listening to in church, it goes somewhat like “I’m a millionaire-ah-ah-ah, I’m a millionaire. I’m a happy-happy-happy millionaire”.
It is on the top of my list of favorite Christian songs.
As ‘talented’ as I am, I have never pretended to or claimed to know how to carry a tune.
Sing?
Maybe I can, probably to save my life or that of someone I really care about but if I were to rate my singing ability on a scale of one to ten, I’d give my self a minus one with zero being “somebody-save-us-please!!!-Kindly-turnoff-that-rambling–contraception-before-we-gouge-out-our-ears-with-a-copper-file.Shoot-it-beat-it-squish-it-kill-it-whatever-just-make-it-stop!

So when I was younger, I would clutch my hymnbook anxiously, hold my breath and pray that ‘today’ would be the day they sing the song. Some days I got lucky, my prayer would be heard and the choir master would announce the hymn. I’d quickly flip to the page and hum slash recite the words along with the singing choir.
I always felt uplifted by their rendition and dreamed of happy days to come – having my very own castle complete with flying pony, perfect tea sets and cooperative playmates.
On other days, I was not so lucky.
It didn’t bother me much though. Rather I carefully put away my hymnbook and look forward to the next time. Maybe, I’d get lucky then.

I still love the song till date; problem is

I realize that now unlike before instead of attempting to sing along and get into the groove of the spirit, I’d be busy watching for those who are singing.
I’d then pick out the seemingly single men and keep an eye on them. When they get to the “ I’m a happy millionaire” part I’d notice my gaze traveling down to inspect their shoes, accessories, clothing and back to their face. Usually, I am able to stop there, regain composure and go back to the point of worship but on more occasions, I find myself waiting for the subject of my perusal to catch my gaze so I can give him a look that implies “you this wicked man, is it me you are trying to deceive?”
The clueless man’s reaction is best left to the imagination.

Like play like play, today is Friday October 11 2013 and ASUU is still on strike, not only are Fayrouz, Cheese balls and color-blocking girls becoming scarce but non students are gradually beginning to get used to the idea of having jobless young adults restlessly sit home gazing at the living room ceilings (where applicable)from morning till night wondering whether his/her boyfriend/girlfriend is being faithful to them where ever they are.

In a bid to understand what is going on in my beloved country with respect to education and youth development I have stopped skipping to the next station when the news bulletin is on.
From what I have gleaned there is some sort of love triangle going on with one party looking for who to beat/kidnap/take to court, another party looking for who to bully/coerce/take to court and the 3rd party playing the helpless victim.

In other news; a couple of rams have been detained for violating sanitation laws, a kindly governor handed out galaxy tabs to school children who have no power supply in their places of refuge (pitiful homes), portable drinking water or good school uniforms and finally police encourage citizens to be more trusting and forthcoming. After all the police is your friend!

To end this, I’d pray for Nigeria and make a decree; there will be peace, progress and prosperity, if not today, then tomorrow or the next but it will happen some time in my day...

Do not pout people, smile!

E go better.

Guess the gadget

Thanks to my present ‘unemployed’ status, getting internet for my personal use has turned into something from a movie plot – think ‘James Bond meets Mary Poppins’.
Although it has occurred to me to look for a cheaper service provider and get peace of mind from honest dealings as compared to crouching huddled in a corner to use ‘borrowed goods’/perching in front of an archaic desktop computer that makes video cassettes look futuristic, I believe my hesitation now is caused by rumors about * communication blocking concrete walls that have got me thinking 'what's the worse that could happen?'.

I woke up this morning to realize I have a new ability.... Sleep writing!!

It appears I updated my blog at a time all indications prove I was asleep (Green, White and other colors <- ps: if the link I placed there does not appear and you are interested in surveying a manifestation of my alleged new ability kindly hit the home link and select the title). I went through the old and new Nigerian National anthems again this morning and I wonder… Once we were a 'rich' country, we were doing so well. Where did we miss our step, when did we loose focus - What went wrong Nigeria? After checking to ensure I did not mention onion, pepper or tomato portions (I have been told in severe cases of sleep deprivation, I become a tomato seller and start haggling over prices) I decided to keep the post - although I am still trying to figure out the relationship between the hibiscus flower, ASSU strike and Nigeria’s Independence Day. While looking for colored pens I may have stashed away in a cupboard I hardly ever use, I came across carefully warped objects labeled in my writing.

I starred at them for quite a while trying to figure out why they looked so familiar before enlightenment hit me.
They were diskettes!!!
I was curious about what information could be so precious that I went through such measures to keep the diskettes protected and hidden.
While holding my breathe, I searched for somewhere/thing to slot it in.
Surprise – surprise, the CPU of archaic computer had a floppy drive but sadly the disks could not be read (said to format diskettes).

Needing a reference letter as part of my application requirements for a job as a science graduate, I met a prospective referee and asked if he would assist me. In a heartbeat, he was like “sure! No problem” provided I write the letter, he would lend me his letter headed paper and signature.
He even suggested I meet my dad for a draft.
Taking his advice, I printed a copy of my CV and submitted to the Prof only for him to call my attention after 24hrs and tell me that from my CV, I should be looking for jobs in media, tourism and publication industries. Go figure!
Such is life I guess. Like the wise ones say “sdgfjcdmbcdhgfasgndk khona!”






*


* there is this belief that the bad telecommunications network prevalent in the area is as a result of the thick concrete used in erecting the buildings. So for a clear signal, one has to stand directly under the sun or beside an outdoor antenna.
Please, advise: is there logic to this theory?

Green, White and other colors

The idea was to switch to patriotic mode 1st thing in the morning and go on and on and on about how I love Nigeria and blah.
After doing that, the next was to celebrate the national day and spread love to those who couldn't find a reason to celebrate. After making efforts to get my cheer on, I sat in front of the computer to write and bam! NEPA struck, the power went out.
Taking with it the battery life of the desktop computer I was using and in the process leaving me deflated.
As I sat staring at the now black computer screen, trickles of the 1st Nigerian national anthem came to me. I struggled to remember the rest. With a little help from my ‘sister’ from a non-biological mother, I was able to get the whole thing.
Written by Lillian Jean Williams, composed by Frances Berda and trending from 1960 to 1978, it was as follows:

Nigeria we hail thee
Our own dear native land
Though tribe and tongue may differ
In brotherhood we stand
Nigerians all and proud to serve
Our sovereign motherland
Our flag shall be a symbol
That truth and justice reign
In peace or battle honor
And this we count as gain
To pass unto our children
A banner without stain
O God of all creation
Grant this our one request
Help us to build a nation
Where no man is oppressed
And so with peace and plenty
Nigeria may be blessed.

By a series of incredible events, I was privileged to experience education in two different settings both within the same school and state.
In the first, the lecturers relied on government funding, encouraged us to use our imagination to ‘connect the dots’, told us stories of how things ought to be and made education a ‘cram or fail’ affair.
In the second, the lecturers made use of their personal earnings, supplied us with aids to bring what they were teaching to life and encouraged us to ask and attempt questions no matter how silly we thought we’d end up seeming.

It is not hard to figure out which of the above had a higher examination success rate amongst its students.

With the president of the national students union threatening to place a bounty on not only the heads of my friends but the heads of people I love as well, I’ve been in a somewhat perplexed state.
Is he aware of what ASSU is fighting for?

Arise, O Compatriots,
Nigeria’s call obey
To serve our Fatherland
With love and strength and faith
The labor of our heroes past
Shall never be in vain,
To serve with heart and might
One nation bound in freedom,
Peace and unity.
Oh God of creation,
Direct our noble cause
Guide our leaders right
Help our youth the truth to know
In love and honesty to grow
And living just and true
Great lofty heights attain
To build a nation where peace
And justice shall reign.
Written by Sotu Omoigui, John A. Ikechukwu, Babatunde A. Ogunnaike, P. O. Aderogbu Eme and Etim Akpan and composed by Benedict Odiase. This anthem was adopted in 1978 and remains the same to this day.
Feeling rebellious, I wrapped myself in black clothes, shoes and makeup, took a tour of the city and was in for a surprise.
At the end of today, there’s so much I want to say that I’ve decided to say nothing.
Like it or not, this country is ours. It is our home, source of nurture and the bedrock that makes us who we are – Nigerians.
The date is 1st October 2013.
I know this because I am alive and thankful.
Have a blessed month.

Cheers to the ‘embers!

For a long time in my house and since I can remember, Christmas and New year (first week of January) holidays are spent in the village.
The only year we the Fanta-chapman drinking children of my folks rebelled against this unwritten commandment and decided to stay in the city, my mother dearest was involved in a freak accident.
She broke her hand.
Mother dear had to go around with her arm in a sling for close to two months.
Considering both hands are usually needed to whip, chop, roll, grate, stir and cut all the mouthwatering delicacies that accompany the season, you can imagine how devastated we the now compliant children were.

During one of such Christmases, being the ever-obliging niece that I am, without being asked, I offered to escort my uncle around the village as he ran his errands.
The trip was uneventful.
My uncle finished his errands in record time and soon, we were headed home.
Halfway through our homeward journey, he started humming a tune and urged me to sing along.
As I struggled to follow his lead (the song was in my native dialect which by some wicked trick of fate, I have failed to grasp) he began to tell a story.
He told three stories.
By the time he was through with the 3rd story, I had covered the exposed parts of my body, rolled up the glass of the car and checked to make sure my door was locked for the 50th time.

To my uncle, I was this enthralled little girl enjoying his scary stories while in reality, I was a scared teen on the verge of twenties very close to pissing my panties afraid to tell him to stop because the first story he told was about a child who did not listen to elders and do as she was told – by gorilla’s in the forest.
He was driving on a road bordered by thick forests with things some might claim to be birds randomly flying by.

Christmas is coming!

But before Christmas comes, we would witness September’s passing, celebrate Nigeria’s Independence Day and fall prey to the Christmas sales that will go on for most of November.

This year, Independence Day falls on Tuesday October 1st.

Independence Day is an annual celebration commemorating the anniversary of a nation's assumption of independent statehood.

This year, God willing, this great nation Nigeria will be 53 years old.

Hopefully, by the D-day, I’d have come up with something very enthusiastic to say about Nigeria’s independence from oppression, exploitation and predation.

Christmas is coming!!

An unforgiving god

I stood outside the house starring at nothing in particular with my hands akimbo.
There I was happily rocking my short-cropped hair and wondering if today will be the day I pass a comb through it or just do my usual finger brushing thingny after my morning shower when this young lady began inching towards me.
I had prepared my mind to think of the simplest and shortest possible route to give to her as I assumed that she was in need of directions – why else would a normal and sane looking person be going out of her way to approach someone gazing at noting in particular so early in the morning?
(when in a bank, I prepare to share my pen, give the date or help a little old lady fill her bank teller, when wearing ‘hundred’ inch heels I prepare to break a possible fall as a result of my erm... no idea and when walking alone after 9pm on an eerie road I set my legs to flight mode. Any strange entity come too close to me, I make like Usain St. Leo Bolt and…!!).

The young lady touched me ever so gently and questioned in a slow whisper “ sister, na your husband follow you go abi na your boyfriend?” I gasped and tried to prevent my jaw from dropping to the floor. Now that was one question I did not foresee.

After a brief exchange with me answering her questions and giving my candid advice, I bid her farewell and watched as she scurried out and away from my line of vision.
The young lady was from either kalabari kingdom, akwaibom or somewhere in the riverine parts of the south – south of Nigeria (I wasn't paying too much attention to what she said but remember saying "so you sabi swim wella abi?").
It turns out she has been nursing a craving to have her full head of unadulterated virgin hair cut but was not permitted to do so.
When she spotted me, she saw a kindred spirit and decided to share her plight.

In her village, a woman was only allowed to cut her hair if she was in mourning.
To do otherwise, she would need to tender either a husband or a boyfriend who will accompany her to the venue and proceed to tell the barber, cutter or hair stylist that he was aware of her said intentions, was in approval and had granted his permission. Or else, someone will face the consequence!

Isn’t tradition wonderful?!

Reflecting on this brought another possibly unrelated incidence to mind.

Sometime in the past, Uselu market in Benin City, Edo state experienced a fire accident.
During the commotion, there were a whole lot of looting, plundering and general misdemeanors.
In anger, one of the affected people, an African traditional worshiper cried to her god (small letter g) and placed a curse on peoples were in possession of stolen goods.
Immediately word of her deeds got around, people started returning goods, even goods not stolen from Uselu market!
The returned items amounted to a huge pile.
The pile was there for a long time as the real owners were afraid of accidentally taking an item that was not theirs and in the process end up with a raptured belly, rotten feet and something to do with the tongue (can’t recall the details of the curse again, it really was a while back).
I can’t remember what happened at the end of 'the day' or how the pile varnished but I know I was in awe for a very long time.
Maybe I still am, who knows?

‘Officially’ in Nigeria today, there are more Christians and Muslims than traditional worshippers and native doctors (juju priests) but there is less honesty, justice and fair play.
It is not only disturbing but unsettling as the holy books describe traditional worship as devilish and wicked yet most of these 'evil people' show more respect for human life, reward for labor and the laws of their land.
Are these robbers, extorters, murderers and kidnappers not either Christians or Muslims?
I hate to ask this, but I am quite confused so I'd ask anyway.
Our darling chairmen, senators, governors and leaders of the land. You who are responsible for the Progress, Safety, Security and Life of the citizens of this great nation?
Where lies your faith?

Seriously, Why?

The Good-book, the Rulebook and the exalted council of elders. Societies norms to ensure her precious children turn out all right.
“Keep your nose clean” they say, “and you will be rewarded with the pleasures of life”.

Temptation |tem(p)ˈtāSHən|
Noun
A desire to do something, esp. something wrong or unwise

Having desires is not a bad thing neither is doing something.
It is when either or both of the above are done in ways termed as wrong or unwise that it becomes a problem.
This will have been a simple and faultless idea but for the pause that comes afterwards.
I call it the “who pause”.
The last time I asked who determined what was right and wrong I was told it was “the society”. Lately, I seem to be having a problem with that answer because “the society” that determines:
• What is right and wrong
• Who gets punished and who gets saved
• How it should be done and how it should not be done keeps getting smaller and smaller.
I’m thinking along the lines of an L word but unfortunately, the word doesn’t spell out Lubricious, Lover or Lesbian.

My failure to find a crate of Fayrouz to buy because of the on going ASUU strike might have been a passing annoyance but it got me pondering…

The reason for saying “No!” to the advances of the man willing to exchange a huge chunk of his daughter’s college tuition for a chance to ‘wow’ me with a diamond studded bra (with matching panties of course) would have been because the society frowns upon such behavior but now I’m thinking; this is the 21st century, I am in Nigeria, updating this post via internet but last night, I had my shower by candlelight! So tell me dear society, what have you done for me lately?

TY Bello sang a song. It was a hit. African China also had a hit song in 2004.
Am I the only one that pays attention to the lyrics of these hits?

Some years back, my bank paid me twice the amount I paid in. I called their attention to this and returned their money to them. A few years later they sent me a ‘cockroach letter’ begging that the “incidence” of their carelessness, which led to the loss of my hard earned money from their facility, not affect my relationship with them.
They did not return my money back to me.

A certain immaterial but amazing thing happened to fall into my possession.
It does not belong to me.
Considering the 'good' example set by the people before me, wouldn’t doing the right thing be unwise?

Anónimo I

Miriam looked longingly at the wall socket beside her desk and returned a forlorn gaze to her mobile phone. The LED light was flashing yellow with her battery level showing 5% . In a few minutes, it would inform her that her battery was ‘too low for radio use’.
Why she switched from her trusty Nokia 3310 which could last for days without the constant necessary libation to the ‘recharge battery’ goddess to this useless landline in the body of a blackberry phone was a problem question best left unattempted. She dutifully turned off ‘all alerts’ in a bid to reduce the load on her phone but doubted it would stop her phone from going off.
There were only two wall sockets in the store both of which were thoroughly occupied.
The clock above the entrance to the store indicated the time was eleven forty-five too late to close for breakfast break too early for lunch. She stared at the bell above the door to the store and pouted. It had not jingled since she got in at 7:30am. She was alone in the store and did not think cousin Zogie would be quite pleased if she where to pop in unannounced and discover that she had closed her store midmorning so she could run home and charge her phone. As she caressed her phone lovingly using the last few minutes of its present battery life wisely (changing her personal message – pm to ‘battery low’ and sending a broadcast message) she decided that the designer of the store was a wicked store designer, planner, architect or whatever they called themselves.
Who designs a store with just 2 wall sockets?!
Or could it be she had missed the 3rd one? Was there another socket somewhere? Dropping the phone on the desk she walked around the table and stood in the middle of the store.
Well, almost the middle of the store, there was a partitioned section towards the back that functioned as a storage area. It was basically a gift store with additional odds and ends plus whatever was on sale in the country cousin Zogie found herself in.

Miriam had heard of compulsive liars, cheaters and thieves but for the first time in her life, she realized her cousin was a compulsive traveller.
Zogie could not stay in one place for too long.
If she did not have money to travel, she would sell the tissue of her spine, spleen and even kidney to raise enough money to travel to a place she ‘saw in her dream’.
The arrangement worked out for Miriam though because after about a year and a half of searching for the ‘dream job’, she had all but given up and decided to settle for a bank job or worse only for dear cousin Zogie to ‘reach out to her’.
Without a second thought, she packed up her few worldly possessions, kissed her stupefied but really cool parents goodbye, sent hurried text messages to her siblings and relocated to the garden city, Port Harcourt!

Now while she managed her cousin’s store, interviewed and searched for capable store assistants she was taking an online masters course and remaining focused in the plans to snag her dream job.

Pushing aside the blazers and jackets on display hanging from the rack parallel to the wall, she stuck her head through the gap and surveyed the area.
No socket.
She sighed, stood straight and looked at the clock again. Barely a minute had passed. Time had decided to lounge today of all days. She sighed again. Hopefully, this new girl she hired would be more dedicated than the last. Sadly, she was not due to resume until 2pm.
With the rate of unemployment in Nigeria, she was puzzled as to why more people where not responding to the ‘help wanted’ ads she had been posting on social networks. She padded to the section that housed her favorite things in the whole wide world – books!
She loved books.
Story books, picture books, any book. There was an array of books, magazines and catalogues for sale most of which she had read or was not interested in reading. She exhaled and made a final sweep of the aisle to ensure no book was out of place and stopped. Something towards the end of the shelf caught her attention. Squeezing her face into a frown she walked towards the object and bent into a squat to examine it.
It was a book, a very old book. Picking it up gently, she blew off the dust gathered in front and tried to make out the title.
She had worked in this store for close to three month and could confidently say she knew everything they stocked.
This mangy work of art or fiction was definitely NOT one of theirs.
Curious, she absently made her way back to her desk book in hand the search for wall sockets forgotten and settled into her chair. She flipped past the first page and let out a startled gasp.

For Miriam my love.
Wherever, whenever, I will find you.

- T

Thank You For Not Touching

House of Gold

Directed by Pascal Amanfo
Produced by Yvonne Nelson

Running Time: 1h 40m

Staring: Eddie Watson, Luckie Lawson, Majid Michel, Umar Krupp, Yvonne Nelson and Nigerian musicians Omawumi Megbele, Mercy Chinwo and Ice Prince Zamani

Plot summary:

House of Gold tells the story of Dab Ansah Williams. A high-flying entrepreneur, business mogul, polygamist and socialite, who is battling cancer and has six weeks left to live according to medical practitioners.
With the help of his long time associate and legal representative, he embarks on a mission to call all his children back home – most of whom were born out of wedlock and various illicit affairs.
The re-union proves a little more than everyone bargained for as each of his children return with an agenda setting the stage for the most hilarious and bizarre seven days.

Is it just me or do other people get “the itch” when they see signs like this -->
I would be happily skipping along the road minding my business when my attention would be caught by a brightly colored bill commanding me to do as it directed. At that instant, a little angel demon would wake up in my head and holler “or what?” menacingly at the sign. Then the eternal battle between good and evil would begin.
On occasion, I’d witness myself looking left, right then left again before leaning ever so slightly toward the goading sign to do the exact opposite of what was said.

Thanks to NEPA (I have refused to call it PHCN until the powers that be take to acting like the ‘grownups’ they claim to be and give us EPS – Light!), desperation and an awkward evening the night before, I decided that rather than go door to door with my charger and extension board in search of a pulsing port for my electricity powered devices I’d go see a movie (and charge my phone there).

I heard about Yvonne Nelson for the first time from Iyanya when he spent all of 4 minutes earnestly requesting for the waist of certain individuals in his 2012 hit track ‘Ur Waist’.
Faced with the choice of either waiting for an hour to see Wolverine (and charge my phone later) or seeing House of Gold and having a gander at Iyanya’s Yvonne Nelson (and charge my phone sooner) I opted for the ‘quick fix’.

The first thing that caught my attention was the beautiful man in a pilot suit (I’d get back to him later). Next was the conversation between a young wife and her friend plotting to sleep with her stepson. In my mind I went “sh*t!! It’s a Ghanaian movie!”
At that point, I had discovered that the wall socket I sat beside to was not working disappointed, I was about leaving the theater when my darling Omowumi came to view again.
That was how I stayed until the end.

Although the movie was no “Phone swap” <- my best ‘big screen’ Nigerian movie. It was way better than “The Meeting”, “Figurine” and “True citizen” *shivers at the memory of true citizen*. There was comedy, drama, romance and long- long- legs. It felt like watching tiny random interesting films inside a film. At the end of the movie there was music and I found myself getting up with the other moviegoers and shaking my tiny bum to Ice Prince’s ‘Aboki’. As I still needed to get my phone battery up, I sat in a corner at the mall until my phone was charged enough to come on then raced home with the sole purpose of finding out who the pilot in House of Gold was and my-my-my….

Have a beautiful weekend everyone!

The blues

For someone who loves to waddle, wriggle and splash the weather of late combined with my present location is dancing very close to the edge of being outright foul. I know it is Garden city – Rivers state and all that but come on!?
I am quite certain some figurative thoughts were at play when they named it so! I for one know that they do not go about passing random food hampers in Benue state – the food basket of the nation.

If I say the rain is wicked, the general agreement will be that “Oseyi has come again” (where I went to in the first instance? I do not know) but how else will I describe a thingy that falls in earnest for a bit, eases up and lets the sun come out to play, convinces you it is done with its theatrics and gets you to leave your umbrella/raincoat/boyfriend-slippers behind then jumps out from the clouds and douses you with its chilling presence?
It is bad enough that it was one of the deciding factors for my shocking liaison with the 'scissors of Bodija', now its acting like an obsessed monster, forcing you to bend to its will and failing to understand that NO MEANS NO (there is a not so flattering 4 letter word for this behavior. I even hear discusses about the legality and acceptance of related acts. (Something to do with old men, under developed little girls and VVF).
There’s just something about this so-called ‘weather for two’ that rubs me the wrong way. Then again, this 'rubbing' is a matter I’d like to table for discussion (not today though).

Saturday July 23, 2013
Like play like play, the month is sliding to a steady end.
This is a good thing, the whole hope characteristics of ‘man’ enables most people to look forward to tomorrow, the day after it and tolerate bull crap from the powers that be but before I hop on the trust wagon and chug-chug out of the month of July, I’d like answers to the few questions that manifested over the days gone by.
For ease of response, I have summed them into 4 categories. Please, feel free to supply answers where possible.

1. Of love

a. How does ‘ making a compromise’ differ from wanting the other party to change entirely to suit your lifestyle?
b. How do people walk away from the one they love and manage to live happily ever after with Mr./Miss. Suitable?
c. Love is a battlefield yeah? So after ‘Marriage’, what next?
Divorce?

2. Of living

a. I love my friends, relations and kinsmen. This I know. Where is it written that to prove this fact, I have one has to attend the ‘grand tribunal’ every Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays, sacrifice a purple Billy goat, dance around a silver lock and serenade each and every member of this ‘love circle’ with calls and updates of their every thought?
b. Where are all the butterflies?
c. Nigeria is above 50 years old today. What is democracy?

3. Of behaviors

a. What is the definition of ‘Normal’? Who is sane and who is insane?
b. The madmen and women that parade the streets; what are they looking for, who are they talking to and where do they get their change of clothes?
c. At “No strings attached/friends with benefits”: how does it work, when does it end and whose bright idea was it?
d. * Erased due to graphic nature*

4. Unclassified

a. Where do babies come from?
b. Will Nigerian roads ever be fixed to a good working condition?
c. Can I die for my president, will you?
d. Cashless Nigeria?

Thank you for your anticipated assistance (and shared wisdom – I truly appreciate), have a lovely weekend and do not ask me what question 3d was about.
Cheers!!

The fortieth

I watched with fascinating curiosity as this okada (motorbike) made its way towards me from a distance.
On the two wheeled vehicle was the rider of the bike (okada man), a youngish looking woman and two baskets.
One basket was positioned in front of the bike-man on top his engine at the helm. It was cradled between his outstretched hands and his spread thighs.
The woman carried the second basket.
The basket looked heavy but some how she managed to balance it on her left lap with one hand while using her other hand to hold on to a baby (presumably hers) snugly tied to her back with both a wrapper and receiving blanket. As the bike drew nearer, I noticed he was looking in my direction. His lips were moving. Realizing he caught me staring at him I decided to pay attention to what he was about. Without taking off his hands from the steering of the motorbike, he raised the index finger of his right hand and spoke to me again. This time, I heard him. He was saying “one chance” informing slash asking if I was interested in joining his moving party. I let out an incredulous gasp. Trying not to regard him with an open mouthed stare, I smiled sweetly and shook my head indicating I received his information but was not interested in signing up for his breakneck adventure on wheels. When he zoomed off disappointed at the loss of a potential ‘client’, I gave myself a well-deserved pat on the back for being able to ‘pin’ my lips together and not ask him if I was expected to seat on the ‘bicycle tires ’ or was he a learner?

Of love, stalkers and exotic emotions…

When they say to “follow who know road” I have serious reason to believe that they made love, lust and relationships exceptions to the above phrase.
From my experience, it turns out that the people most willing to give advise and tell you how to manage your ‘ships’ are the ones with the most problems – insecure, possessive, noncommittal, timid and obsessed human beings.
They ‘ginger’ you to live the life that they’d never in their wildest imaginations indulge in while perching on the fence like hungry vultures watching to see if you’d turn up _ _ _.
Kindda brings the book/movie – Dorian Gray to mind (Dorian Gray was this dude who was initially a good boy but got spoiled by ‘world people’. Along the way, he owned a painting which turned out to be ‘outer worldly ’ – possessing certain powers of sort that took the burnt for his trespasses. He remained clean, fresh and young while the picture got corrupted, decayed and old. The same ‘world people’ that robbed his of his innocence and encouraged him to stray now started to vex unto say im dey chop clean mouth and nothing dey do am so, they begun to seek a way to destroy him) in my opinion, when it comes to accounts and following; I am the one that gets hurt and destroyed by the 'actions' they encourage me to engage in (the picture) while they (Dorian Gray) remain intact and unaffected by their ‘wicked’ council.
At the end of the day they will say. “ I only gave an advise, I no say make you go do am!” – yeah right.

“And [the lawyer], trying to justify himself, said to Jesus, ‘who is my neighbor?" (Luke 10:29)

Story of the good Samaritan asides from confirming that LOVE IS THE GREATEST thing of all makes mention of two popular biblical locations:

a) Jerusalem – the holy city and

b) Jericho – the sin city.

The traveler was going from Jerusalem to Jericho.
The priest was going from Jerusalem to Jericho.
The Levite was going from Jerusalem to Jericho.
The Samaritan as well was going from Jerusalem to Jericho but unlike the aforementioned persons, the Samaritan had a running tab at an inn somewhere along the road that was able to cater for the injured and downtrodden. Giving the impression that this was not the first seek and recovery mission the Samaritan had partaken in along the Jerusalem – Jericho road.

“You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.” (Luke 10:28)

Yeay us!!

Hello, virtual family!
CC: people in my computer, blackberry, mobile phone and transistor radio.

It has been one hell of a week! One involving scissors, needles, ice-lolly and t-shirts with the second, third and fourth day of the week leaving me looking like the human version of ‘Kermit the frog’ from sesame the street.
On the 'Yeay' side of the meter, I’d admit that the week wasn’t all bad; I got to watch 'Flavors' new music video - Ada Ada, obsess over a ‘small matter’ and spend close to 72hours in and out of sleep having really weird dreams as I slumbered. Dreams I remember vividly but presently don’t feel quite comfortable sharing *shudders*.

Everyday, I began to write an entry but by the time it was decided I was heading somewhere, I’d become too drowsy to locate the keys on my keyboard.
I’d tell myself “baby girl chill and have a nap. Tomorrow is another day” well, this is the 7th day and tomorrow heralds a new week so if I don’t end this and publish, I’d be letting little things like needle shots, a swollen face and fatigue get the best of me.

As I write this, I’m being distracted by a pirated movie I am trying not to watch. The movie is interesting but it’s the activities between the 'pirate' and the rest of the people in the movie theater that has gotten me hooked.
The person with the camera is sitting behind a little girl and her father (or big brother/uncle?) and she keeps getting up to do things. Since the movie begun, she’s gone to pee 3 times, been fed something from a bottle while standing and now, she’s standing with her little hands on her waist blocking most of the ‘pirate’s’ camera lens oh and my view!
So, although this entry is going to be lacking the usual ‘salt’ and ‘lime’ -ish, it will have an ending… or something like it (I don't know).

At this point, I’d write a special thank you to everyone who checked in on me from Monday till 5am today (*cough – cough* a later time say 9am or 12pm will be appreciated in future).
Here’s to letting you know that I’m doing great, the swelling’s gone and I am no longer ‘high’ on pain meds.
God bless you, keep you and protect those you care about.

See you next week!

Ms. O

Mazi Must (NOT) Die!

That awkward moment when you wake up at first light (to go discretely dispose of accumulated garbage) and can’t seem to find your ‘mischief bra’ anywhere.


Yesterday, I sat in front of my computer for quite a bit.
I just sat staring.
After a while, I started playing “*FLAMES1 ” with my name and a particular gentleman’s name. After being “Admirers”, “Friends” for life and eventually “Married” I realized what I was doing and moved on to face important things like worrying about my braces and IF they'd ever come off.

The story of ‘My braces and I’ is something that begun early 2009 and depending on how I count it, our relationship has lasted for 4 going on 40 years.
I think we deserve an anniversary of sorts.

The magical story of how we begun is a page in the memory book that will leave readers with a lesson of ‘what not to do’ when faced with an unexpected load of free time.

I remember the day like it was a 3D movie with larger than life characters jumping at me from off the screen.
If only it were…

I wore a white shirt with my blue jeans petty coat, had fire(red) and blonde shoulder length loose braids (pick and drop) falling from my head, bouncing around my face and playing down my back in a mass of curls, waves and torrents. I carried my blue and white leather bag big cousin A got me (sigh I really loved that bag. I carried it everywhere! If only color blocking started in 2009) and wore sandals (*clear heels2).
In my 4 years of schooling, the then dentistry department beside Hall 5 was a place I had never gone near because for one department of dentistry was around there; I was registered in a posh dental clinic in Port Harcourt (they never really bothered with looking inside my mouth, had a fish tank in their reception with pretty fish swimming within, served assorted candy/sweets to visitors and sent really lovely cards to patients on their birthday – they somehow managed to always forget mine but remember my sisters though. Oh and I went for my appointments with either a jacket or cardigan because “their air conditioner na die”) and secondly, I stayed on the other side of campus.
Going for lectures, I’d either walk through Engineering, past Sciences and land at Basement or wait at my junction for a cab to Main-gate, stop there, take another cab going to Hall 1 and get off at Basement. On occasion, when the deciding planets met and the stars were aligned in my favor my very interesting hot ‘Yello’ neighbor gave me a ride in her baby (code name for her beloved car) and we’d chat about the guys next door while avoiding to discuss the secret craving we both had to kill their mangy terror of a dog.

On that faithful day, the three things which should never be mixed close to me – time, curiosity and a handsome man – came together, ganged up and left me with minus 4 and a half teeth, special needs and a future governed by dental appointments, limited mouth activities and the inability to crack bones.

If I were to go back in time, here is what I'd do:
1. I’d take proper care of my white and blue leather bag.
2. Eat less kpekere (plantain chips) and yes!
3. Go straight home and not let my little legs carry me to unexplored locations when ASUU calls members of staff for an emergency meeting canceling all lectures and practical classes for the day.
In a way, the Federal Government is to be held responsible for my present status. Curse you Government!!

While I'm at it, I believe that everyone deserves a great looking and healthy smile. Follow the link below to learn more

http://www.dentalprices.com.au/quality-assurance/ (*if the link doesn't open at 1st click, kindly copy the address and paste in the address bar of your browser)

Back to the present

The sun is out! Bearing down on me with its splendor and glory. Although there is this chill about the weathers edge, the sun doesn’t look like it’d be taking sometime off. The light of day has banished my plan to work in the darkness. I guess the new plan will be to live to die try another day! For now, I am left with a pile of not so attractive junk in my trunk place.
Urgh!
Waste collection, management and disposal is an issue that has to be properly addressed by the powers that be in Nigeria (seriously) as indiscriminate dumping and disposal of waste has a way of coming back to haunt slash bite in the butt. If not by poisoning ground water and making plants and people sick it could be by serving as a beacon of hope for rats, roaches and other unfriendly rodents that have this nasty habit of being carriers/vectors for certain unattractive diseases.



So, tell me. What’s on your mind?











*1. FLAMES: predication game that says if you and the object of your affection are a match. Each letter of the word represents a category or zone if you'd call it that.
*2. Clear heels: no be from my mouth you go hear that one!

The thing with NEP – daz All

Coming and going these several seasons,
Do stay out on the baobab tree,
Follow where you please your kindred spirits
If indoors is not enough for you.
Abiku, J. P. Clark.



“The Central Bank of Nigeria remains positive that by December 2013 all traces of the polymer Naira notes will be pulled out of circulation. The increasing cost of printing on polymer and the rate at which the inscriptions on the polymer notes faded where part of what led to this decision. However, the cashless policy still holds.”
- Oluyole fm, Ibadan.


My thoughts on the above wise decision by the Central Bank of Nigeria?

“ You don’t say?!” *sarcastically shocked face*

Considering this development, I’m guessing my nephew will have to break his piggy turtle bank I spent love, valuable time and energy making for him way before Christmas.

Question:
What is the point of teaching an impressionable young child how to save with money that does not serve as a store of value?

There I was thinking since Airtel (nee Zain, nee Vmobile, nee Econet, nee *Buddie1?) had seemingly decided on a name that worked, our policy makers will follow suit and divert their attention from making our “legal tender” look pretty and decide to face more important issues like say: constant power supply in Nigeria, vehicle worthy Roads and standardized living for her citizens.
How can I honestly tell a child to “think about the repercussions of your decisions before you act” when the oga at the top; my beloved President and his dear members of Cabinet "okay" decisions to spend tax payers money on lousy whims – flowery number plates, tokunbo airplanes, government proceedings that resemble play dates from hell and my fear slash distrust of uniformed men? Or, could it be possible that my democratic leader is not aware of these occurrences we lament about?

How about that promised breath of fresh air?

I seriously need a whiff!

Speaking of fresh air and promises, it is with great pleasure that I announce to no one in particular that with respect to putting my money where my mouth is, I am keeping one of mine!
I finally decided to dash-dash-dash-dash *dramatic pause* dash! So, I went to see dash-dash-dash and was told dash-dashdash-dash. So now, with my fingers crossed (while rooting for Melvin Oduah in BBA the Chase on the side – although sadly I haven’t seen any episode of the movement) I await the decision of dash.

Yeay me!

Today is Friday, June 21, 2013 the last day of the regular working week. A time to unwind – put up your feet and let down your hair (for those who still have hair).
The mood is perfect for music, love, *magic2 and all other things that fall between!
My dear Prince Charming, have you come or will you come again? How do I know it is you? What markings do you wear?



*1. The Buddie name sounds familiar but I have doubts based on its authenticity.
*2. Magic could also cover that drunken moment when believing you are Whitney Houston or James Brown, you climb up the stage/table top/chair and belt out a tuneless love song to the object of your desire certain that he or she was bound to fall in love.

Pressing desire

The weather was wickedly cold!

The initial plan was to take a leisurely stroll on one of the muddy pothole infested roads which usually run through the streets and freeways of Nigeria but it soon turned to a game of "hopscotch" as I commenced hopping from one foot to the other playing virtual hopscotch with the “ankle twisters” aka potholes while trying to dodge dirty splashes from tire’s hastily meeting puddles as mobile road users meandered blindly through imaginary traffic in a bid to get… home?
Like though some invincible trainer slash coach was not impressed by my sudden athletic prowess as displayed in the impromptu workout session I was having, he decided to intensify my session. I was next presented with the curious task of finding “proper” sites to direct my gaze to as first one then another car parked in front of me to let out frantic male occupants who were in quite a rush to answer “natures call”.
It seemed like every twelve steps I took summoned both car and driver from nowhere, compelled them to divert from their initial destination and pee at my feet.
When the third car repeated this routine and presented not two but four occupants (all male), I had to stop, look about and survey my surroundings in case there was a sign or banner of sorts I failed to notice earlier.

Where I was coming from or going to on that wickedly cold day in June is something I hope to discuss some other day but for now, it is a hush-hush affair *wink*.

Before I keep mum, I’d ask no one in particular the following question:
Why it is okay for a man to whip out his “willy” when the urge rises and take a piss anywhere in public and not be judged whereas a woman discovered in a compromising position (say standing in a squat with legs apart – one slightly ahead of the other, skirts raised to a decent height with the fingers of her right and left hands lost somewhere between the folds of her dress) going about her business is frowned upon and in some places called dirty? Why cant what holds true for "Peter" not be applied for "Paul" (or Pauline in this case)?

Word of the day:

Toi·let!

pronounced /ˈtoilit/
Noun
A large bowl for urinating or defecating into, typically plumbed into a sewage system and with a flushing mechanism.

Get it?



Surprise – surprise! We are in the month of June, 6 months down the chute.

By this time in December (last year) the trending topic was “new year resolutions”, attitude and mantras for “twenty taa-teen” (2013).

Question:

a) Did you make resolutions last year?
b) Do you remember your resolutions?
c) How many have you accomplished and
d) What is holding you back from the rest?

I remember my TO DO LIST

I’d like to believe I’ve done 2 out of 4 *clears throat* which is quite fair based on the fact that I still have 6 months to get to the remaining 2 but then again, who am I deceiving?

Earlier this evening, I hurried past a man and his ram out for walk in the market in a bid to get a handsome bunch of plantain for myself before the “night shoppers” got to it.
The first thought that occurred to me was “is this the same man that had the goat from last week” the next thought was “is he happy?” I did not stop to deliberate on these musings, I had a mission to accomplish.

As I made my way home victoriously swinging my cute fingers of plantain snugly settled in the nylon bag the nice lady had sold them in, I thought of my resolutions for 2013 and wondered…

Breath of life

After spending over 6 months in this particular state in Nigeria, I am yet to adapt to the sight of apparent females draped from head to toe in black satin (cotton and or silk) veils with tiny peepholes towards the head region in front for them to look through. Living next door to a market, I have a personal rule of not buying items from people whose faces I cannot see no matter how badly I need said “stuff”.
Tolerance and understanding is a good thing but trust for a “service provider” is important as well.
Although I would like to talk about how cute I think it is when I happen across a man and his goat taking a leisurely stroll in the street, I restrain myself because this post is about something else, it is about a date gone bad thanks to…

Halitosis

Halitosis aka bad breath, morning breath and breath odor are terms used to describe a noticeably unpleasant odor exhaled on the breath.
It is something people (take for example me) are not usually comfortable talking about which individuals may never notice on their own.
Many people have bad breath. It could be only for a short period for some or persistent for others.

How to find out if you have bad breath: 
Lick the inside of your wrist and wait for the saliva to dry. If the area you licked smells really unpleasant, it is likely that your breath does too (test should be done preferably when you are alone as dogs and cats are the only mammals presently allowed to publicly lick themselves).

The different factors that affect breath include:
1. Negligent brush to mouth relationship: the gums and tongue and not the teeth cause bad breath so when these areas are left out in the daily routine, bad things are bound to brew.
2. Xerostomia: (big word for dry mouth *wink*) When the mouth is dry, saliva production decreases leaving the mouth’s natural ability to clean itself impaired. Saliva acts the mouth’s natural mouthwash, neutralizing acids produced by plaque and washing away dead cells that accumulate on the tongue, gums, and cheeks. If not removed, these cells decompose and can cause bad breath.
Dry mouth may be caused by alcohol consumption, side effects of certain medications, salivary gland problems, or continuous breathing through the mouth instead of the nose.

3. Diet: from basic biology, we know that digestion begins in the mouth. As foods are digested and absorbed into the blood stream, they are eventually carried to the lungs and given off in the breath (worse is when someone burps close to my face!) Foods with strong odors such as onion and garlic will not go away (even after brushing and using mouthwash) until digestion is complete. Smoking or chewing tobacco-based products can also cause bad breathe, stain teeth, reduce the ability to taste foods and irritate the gums (Moral? Quit smoking).
4. Health: bad breath can be sign of an underlying medical condition of the stomach, lungs and bloodstream.

How to treat halitosis:

1. Brush at least twice a day — after breakfast and before bedtime. Brushing the teeth before going to bed drastically reduces the early morning “smelly mouth”. After every meal, rinse the mouth thoroughly to remove food particles from the mouth and if possible, brush the teeth as well.
When brushing your teeth, do not forget the tongue and gums.
Teeth: brush all teeth, not just the front ones. Be sure to brush along the sides and in the back.

Tongue: use toothbrush, the edge of a spoon, or a tongue cleaner to "scrape" your tongue.

Gums: brush the gums lightly with or without toothpaste in small circles with the bristles pointing up towards the gum line at a 45 degree angle for the top, and down at the same angle for the bottom.

As a couple of my friends still do not get why often times they end up being dragged along with me as I scurry through the aisle from one supermarket to the other in search of “my toothbrush”, I’d post a little essay I copied off “ToothbrushSubscriptions.com” about toothbrush bristles and their uses.
There are basically 4 types of (natural or synthetic) toothbrush bristles:

Hard Bristles: The hard bristle toothbrush is typically meant for a mouth containing large, sturdier gums and teeth. The reason many people choose hard-bristle toothbrushes is because they think it will do a better job of cleaning. That, of course, isn’t necessarily true. While it can help those with significant dental issues, hard bristles can lead to bleeding or sore gums and the deterioration of tooth enamel. Furthermore, the damage hard bristles can cause can be very painful. Those who use hard bristle toothbrushes should avoid brushing too hard and should exercise caution.

Medium Bristles: Medium bristles aren’t for everyone. Those with a healthy mouth and teeth that are in good condition may prefer these types of bristles. Medium bristles have some flexibility and can thoroughly clean a patient’s mouth if good brushing techniques are used. However, a patient with sensitive teeth and gums or with mouth sores should avoid these bristles. Like hard bristles, medium bristles can cause bleeding, swelling of the gums, deterioration of tooth enamel and other types of dental pain.

Soft Bristles: Most dentists, as well as the ADA, recommend using a toothbrush with soft bristles. This type of toothbrush has flexible bristles and is easier on the enamel and gums. When you use a toothbrush with soft, flexible bristles, you are able to reach the little nooks and crannies easier than some of its harder counterparts.

Extra-Soft Bristles: These types of bristles are best-suited for patients with extremely sensitive gums and teeth. Elderly patients and children typically use extra-soft bristles. These bristles help children maintain healthy teeth while learning good oral hygiene practices. Soft bristles also help elderly patients who have extremely sensitive teeth.
To prevent bacterial from growing on the bristles, you should always rinse off excess residue after using your toothbrush.

When it comes to storage, your toothbrush should be placed in an upright position and allowed to air-dry. If there is more than one toothbrush, you should store the toothbrushes separately so that they are not touching. Additionally, you should avoid storing your toothbrush in an enclosed case, as bacteria can grow in moist spaces.

To further promote the health of a toothbrush, you can disinfect the toothbrush by soaking it in mouthwash or other types of solutions. If you buy a solution, make sure that it sanitizes the toothbrush and prevents bacteria from growing.


2. If your mouth is dry, drink plenty of water. This will keep your mouth moist - try swooshing it around in your mouth for at least twenty seconds to loosen any food particles bacteria can feed upon. Quit smoking. Tar and nicotine can build up on the surface of the teeth, tongue and cheeks. It can also dry the mouth and inhibit saliva flow. Avoid breath mints and mouthwashes that contain alcohol. They temporarily cover the smell of bad breath but tend to dry the mouth. Rather, go for "alcohol free" products. Chew sugarless gum or suck on sugarless lozenges to increase the flow of saliva. Opt for gums with cinnamon and sweetened with xylitol. While xylitol is a sugar substitute that actually works to prevent bacteria from replicating in the mouth cinnamon flavored gum seems to be especially effective in reducing bacteria counts.

3. Most mouth odors comes from food particles trapped in our mouths. When food remains in the mouth for long, it becomes a breeding ground for bacteria causing bad breath. Avoid eating foods that can affect the breath just before going out (erm... garlic?)
Chlorophyll (think green plants) is a natural breath freshener and is found in leafy green vegetables like lettuce, bell peppers, spinach and parsley among others (I wonder if goats have bad breath).

Snacking on vegetables such as carrots or raw celery or can keep plaque from forming.

Quit smoking.

People on low carbohydrate diet usually have “ketone breath” as the body breaks down fats instead of carbohydrate for energy, it creates ketones, some of which are released in the mouth. Unfortunately, ketones smell bad, and so will the breath. Persons on a strict carb-restricting diet, or any diet that forces them to burn fat instead of carbohydrates should consider throwing healthy carb-rich snacks into the mix, like apples or bananas. Fasting and anorexia also result in ketone breath.

4. Other dental causes of bad breath include poorly fitting dental appliances, yeast infections of the mouth, and dental caries. If a better oral hygiene and diet does not improve breath status, it could be an indication of an underlying medical issue that needs to be treated. Please see a doctor.

Jangolova (Part V)

October 4, 2013

She bolted out of her seat and hastened towards her as she stepped away from the stage.
When she was within reach, she cut through the crowd of admirer’s, pressmen and colleagues that had begun to gather around her, dragged her to the side and flung her arms around her. “That was a beautiful reading sweetie! Although I assumed when you sent me that ‘everything is going to be alright’ text last night you had removed the bit about the lady’s parents. They seem too much like your father and I and you know people, they like to talk.” She hugged her back and giggled. “Mother you worry too much. You are nothing like the bitter evil woman in my book, you and father settled your differences a long time ago and are a happily married couple!” She looked over her mothers shoulder at the man seated by himself away from the crowd, pulled her lips into a pout and batted her lashes. “Mother dearest, please could you go seat with Jason for a bit? He looks so lonely.” Her mother turned her head and looked to his direction. She made a face and spoke snootily. “I do not understand what you see in that man though, he doesn’t deserve you. Isn’t twenty-eight years and above too old to be playing boyfriend and girlfriend? I have told him several times that my daughter is a big photographer that travels around the world. If he does not want to marry you-.” Ivie raised her left hand halting her mothers nagging.
There was a huge engagement ring on her finger.
Her mother let out a squeak and grabbed her hand, inspecting the ring and surveying her with skepticism. “When?” Ivie giggled. “This morning, before my reading.” Her mother dropped her hand, straightened the folds of her dress and turned in Jason’s direction.
With a smile on her face, she tut-tutted in disapproval and she lamented loud enough for passers by to hear. “Look at my poor son in-law, sitting all by himself.”

Isioma opened her eyes and found herself looking into the eyes of a familiar little girl watching her with concern.
She blinked and sat up.
She was on a king-sized bed.
The girl moved closer, stretched out her little hand and touched her forehead with the back of her right palm. “Mummy are you okay?” She jerked her head back and stared at the girl. “Mummy?” The girl laughed. “Why are you copying me?” There was a slight knock at the door before it swung open.
A man with a little boy straddled on his shoulders with arms wrapped around his neck entered the room.
Isioma cocked her head to the side, squeezed her eyebrows in concentration and stuttered. “Se– Sesan?” He chuckled threw the boy on the bed beside her and sat down ruffling her hair as he did so. “Who were you expecting? Santa Claus? Its your birthday not Christmas sleepyhead. I don’t know how you manage to balance going up and down ladders in peoples houses with taking care of these little demons.” He caught the two children in each of his hands and wrestled with them. They squealed in delight. She ignored them and mumbled inaudibly. “Up and down ladders, mummy, Sesan?” She questioned tentatively. “Sesan, are we married?” He stopped playing with the kids, sat down and looked at her quizzically. “Are you okay honey?” he touched her forehead to check if she had a temperature. “That’s it, no more experimenting with different drinks for you. Yes my dear, we are married and have been so for close to nine years. This is our beautiful baby girl Yinka who thinks I don’t know she wants the new Wii for her ninth birthday in December and our little rascal” He grabbed the boy’s leg as he tried to crawl out of reach. “Junior.” He wiggled out of his hold and bounced up and down the bed. “My name is Izu! Mummy calls me Izu!” Sesan rolled his eyes in mock disgust. “Because your mummy named you after her boyfriend doesn’t mean I have to accept it,” he caught Izu mid bounce and lifted him off the bed. “Come lets leave the ladies alone and go and do manly things.” Izu chuckled. “I am only four daddy, I am not a man!” He stopped at the door and looked at her, concern lining his brows. “Are you sure you are okay dear? Your sister is coming to take the kids by 3pm and our flight is for six.” She reached for Yinka who crawled obediently towards her and rested her head on her laps. The last memory she had was of her in braids, wearing a pink tank top with matching sneakers and newly bereft of her nokia 3310. She was fresh faced from crying over her decision to walk out on Sesan and trying to stop an ‘okada’. Now she was in a bed, had beautifully manicured nails (they caught her attention when she reached for Yinka) with two beautiful children and apparently happily married to Sesan. She smiled at him. “I’m okay dear. Where are we going?” He responded slowly trying to gauge if she was really okay or pretending to be. “That wildlife photographer; Ivie Aghede wrote a book. She is doing a public reading and launch today. She invited us for a private reception in Edo state. I thought it was weird but you said to accept. If you’ve changed your mind, I’d be only too happy to call your sis and cancel.” She shook her head. “No don’t cancel I’m fine.” She tapped Yinka. “Baby go help your brother get ready okay?” Yinka got up sluggishly from the bed and padded towards her father.

The flight surprisingly kept to schedule and in less than 2hrs they were being ushered into the hotel by Ivie’s aids. When she spotted them, she excused herself from the group around her and ran to meet them. She threw her hands around Isioma and enveloped her in a bear hug. “You came!” Isioma tentatively hugged her back while Sesan did his best not to looked disturbed by the complete stranger attempting to squeeze the life out of his dear wife. Isioma patted her back. “Yes, we came.” Ivie released Isioma and let out an embarrassed laugh. “It’s been so long since we saw, that’s my fiancé over there.” She pointed and continued without stopping. “This might sound weird but there is somewhere I’d like to take you to. We’d be gone only a little while, I’d tell you about it on the way.” Isioma and Sesan exchanged puzzled glances. When Sesan nodded Isioma spoke. “Okay, shall we?” Ivie wove to the man she called her fiancé signaling she would be back in a little while then led them out of the building to a waiting vehicle. While they rode, she told them a crazy story of how they had met before in an alternate life on their birthday 10 years ago, saved a gypsy woman and were quite miserable until 2 days ago (a different one) when she (the gypsy) reunited them and gave them a choice for another chance. She was so caught up with making a difference and positive change that did not pay much attention to their new lives. She missed Isioma’s passing out ceremony because she went to the states the next year for a certificate course. When she got back, she learned they were married and Isioma was creating a name for herself in interior decoration. She had tried to get hold of her on several occasions but she was either in one part of the country working on a project or the whole family had gone overseas for some holiday or the other. With her own career and stabs at novel writing, she too was busy until she met Jason (her fiancé) the second time and realized she was beginning to forget their story. Last year, she began writing what she remembered of their story (the book she launched today) and decided to wait until the anniversary of the change to bring them all together again! When she finished talking she looked at both Sesan and Isioma. They were staring at her as if she had sprouted horns, spat fire and claimed she was a fairy. She pursed her lips realized what she had asked them to believe then covered her face in embarrassment. “You two think I am insane right?” Sesan cleared his throat and snaked his arm protectively around Isioma. The car stopped moving. Isioma threw up her hands in relief and rolled down the window. “We are here!” Then added doubtfully. “Where ever here is.” The car had stopped in front of a gate. There were chains around the bars and a huge padlock in front. Ivie got out and walked briskly to the gate. “It is locked.” She sounded disappointed. Isioma came down from the car and Sesan followed suit mumbling something under his breath that sounded like “that’s a surprise.” Ivie shook her head in amazement. “You two will really think I am mad now. Dragging you across the country, telling you an incredible tale and bringing you to a rundown- locked shanty.” Sesan used his body to shield Isioma and looked through the gate. She placed her left thumb in her mouth, nibbled her fingernail and snapped the fingers of her right hand trying to bring back a memory. Sesan spoke first. “I remember this place. ” He turned slightly and looked down at Isioma. “I came here looking for you but was told you had left. Your roommate was frantic because she said she tried calling you from several payphones but your number was unavailable. I searched all over town for you in places I recalled you usually favored. That was the scariest day of my life. When I finally found you,” he rolled his eyes. “You were sleeping in the reading room in Hall 1! I made you promise never to leave me like that again.” He covered her elbows with his hands and rubbed them, smiling at her as he continued. “So far so good, you have kept that promise.” He leaned down and covered her mouth in a sensual kiss.
An old lady walked up to the gate from the other side.
Using her walking cane as a tool, she banged at the gate getting their attention.
Isioma and Sesan jumped apart like two children caught in the act.
The old woman eyed the three of them with suspicion. “Yes? ‘I fit help unna’?” Isioma cleared her throat. “We are erm asking about the joint that was here, an open bar with a building behind.” The woman placed her cane in front of her, balanced her weight on it, leaned forward and responded haughtily. “Na me get this dormot. It is under new management, when e open again, unna go know.” Isioma surveyed her with a piercing look. As she turned to leave, she noticed a familiar twinkle in her eyes. She called out. “Wait! You seem like someone I know. Have we met before?” The woman smiled, muttered something under her breathe and shuffled into the darkness.

Ivie kept repeating what the woman said, trying to make sense of it. Sesan pieced the words together and repeated it aloud. “The eyes see only what they want to see?” Ivie turned sharply to him. “What did you say?” he shrugged his shoulders and threw his hands open. “I only repeated what the woman said.” Ivie pumped her fist in the air, ran to the car and got out a copy of her book. She flipped open a page, threw it at him and did a jig. “ I knew I wasn’t going insane.” While Sesan read, she linked her hands in Isioma’s own and chattered lively. “You might not remember this but me and you were best of friends. Now that we are speaking again, I intend to remain in your life for a long-long time.” She called over her shoulder. “Hey book worm! Get into the car. We have a party to attend. One that’s been in the making for the past ten years.” Sesan closed the book, and got into the car behind the two ladies. The driver started the engine and turned to Ivie. “Where to madam?” She leaned back in her seat and smiled. “To beautiful tomorrows and more.” She looked at Isioma and Sesan, they were happy. She was happy.

The End!

Jangolova (Part IV)

Isioma looked away and focused her gaze on nothing in particular. She reflected on her life; she thought about her husband Martin and her inability to love him no matter how hard she tried, the child she hardly acknowledged and the hole inside her soul that threatened to swallow her up. Doctor Kasim was right, she was depressed.
Still looking away, she closed her eyes in a bid to halt the surge of memories crowding her head and spoke in a pained undertone. “I made three wishes. The first was for anything that would or could remind of Sesan, lead me to him or make our paths collide to be wiped from existence. The second was to meet a man who will cherish, love and respect me the way I deserved and the third was for - ” She stopped speaking.
Opening her eyes, she darted a glance at Sesan and declared with venom. “ The third was for you to not have children by any other woman but me. Which meant never.” Ivie sat up and snapped her fingers in recollection. “You kept calling her mami! She was a young girl, about fifteen or sixteen. She gave you something, a broom or twig.” She made an impatient gesture and continued. “It was tiny. I remember her telling you to make four wishes.” She stopped talking and began counting her fingers while murmuring under her breath when she was done, she arched an eyebrow and looked quizzically at her. “It is three. You only made three wishes. Why?” Isioma blinked and used the back of her left palm to rub at the tears that had been slowly rolling down her cheeks. She wailed defensively. “I was distraught, I felt betrayed, I wasn’t thinking. I had forgotten about the stick until the day I lost my baby. I returned from the hospital alone and hurting. It took a while for me to find it, I honestly didn’t think it would work. I just needed something, something to believe in.” It occurred to her that she was rambling. She stopped talking and made an attempt to gather her thoughts. Wiping away more tears from her eyes, she linked her fingers together and rose her elbows to rest on the tabletop. Leaning her forehead on the ball of her hands, she cleared her throat and spoke mechanically. “Ninth June 2004, I went to Sesan’s house to tell him about the baby. I had kept it a secret for close to three months and figured it was time to come clean. NYSC coordinators from head office decided to pay a surprise visit to my place of primary assignment so I couldn’t leave early. After work, I went to a store and got a bottle of wine. We usually didn’t see during the week but since I knew he was home, I decided I’d go to his place without calling first.” Ivie interrupted her. “Isioma you swore to me you were through with Sesan!” She winced at her stricken tone and dropped her hands. She turned to her. “I lied to you about breaking up with him, I am sorry. You were preoccupied with your visa application and plans for school, it was easy to hide the relationship from you. I knew he was seeing someone else but I refused to believe he did not love me.” She blinked away the tears gathering in her eyes, determined to hold them at bay and resumed her drone. “On getting to Sesan’s place, I tried to open the door with my spare key but it was locked from within which was unusual. Alarmed, I banged at the door in apprehension. After a while, he came to the door. I watched the blood drain from his face when he realized it was me. Confused, I was about to ask what was wrong when a lady wearing my shorts and nothing else came out of his bedroom with a feather in her hand. I remember the sound of the breaking glass ringing in my ears as the bottle of wine I was holding slipped from my hand and fell to the floor. I ran blindly away from him and the house stifling the urge to pull at my hair and break down in tears. I knew the lady with the feather. She wasn’t his girlfriend but the bank manager who helped him with the loan he used to start his haulage and transport company. He always went on about how good she was to him, rushed to pick her calls and even suggested I send my CV to her.” She chuckled wryly. “ It never occurred to me he meant otherwise. I kept running until I was stopped. Stopped by a man struggling to choose between driving headfirst into a terrible porthole and hitting a careless ‘okada’ rider. He decided that hitting a girl who ran into the road without first checking was the lesser evil. When I came to, my right arm was in a cast and my baby gone. Something died inside me. It turned out Sesan was considerate enough to leave the ‘nice lady’ behind and rush me to the hospital. They didn’t tell him about the baby. I didn’t either. He wanted to take me home but I didn’t want him near. Safe at home, I let myself weep. It was then I remembered the Joss stick.”

Ivie shifted closer to Isioma and wrapped her arms protectively around her. “My poor baby.” She patted her back in consolation, aching for her and the loss she felt. “ Isioma you were my best friend, how could I forget you? I remember now. My parents were having issues, one Susana lady was trying to break them apart but the two of us were working together to get to the bottom of the issue and settle it. After gaining admission for my postgraduate certificate, I was denied visa. You advised me to defer my admission to fall semester and apply again. You were going to get your elder sister to assist me with some documents as well and we were working towards mid June. One morning, I woke up and did not remember why I needed to try. I did not seem to care about anything again. I sat back and watched while my father left my mother for Susana, mother change from the loving boisterous person I knew to a bitter mean spirited woman. I blamed myself for her loss and let her tell me what I could be and what I could not be.” She squeezed her shoulders and rubbed it in understanding. “ I could have reminded you of him.” She pointed at Sesan. “So everything from the morning of the day we met till the day you made that wish became a blur.”
Sesan was a changed man.
Pushing himself up, he walked around the table and stood in front of Isioma. “Isi, can you ever forgive me?” He regarded her with a pained expression.
When she did not return his stare, he moved away from the booth and walked towards their lodgings.
Ivie and Isioma remained in the booth for a little while longer.
Crying, hugging and trying to catch up on lost memories.

Towards evening, they returned to the lodge and retired to their separate rooms.
Someone was knocking at the door.
Ivie went to see who it was.
It was Mami.
Shaking her head in denial and disbelief she accosted her. “It is you isn’t it? You don’t look anything like the girl we rescued.” Mami smiled mysteriously and cautioned. “The eyes see what they want to see.” She padded to the door to Sesan’s room and knocked. When he came out, she did the same for Isioma and led them all through the kitchen to the back porch and ushered them into the swings.
Ivie took Isioma's hand, together they moved to stand opposite the swing Sesan took.
After they were seated, she passed around tiny sticks similar to the one the girl had given Isioma ten years ago. “You saved a young girl from certain harm giving her a second chance at life. A chance to experience life and do good things. She promised you a second chance as well a chance to right your wrongs. That promise will be fulfilled. Before you go to bed tonight think of what you did wrong and how you can right it. Each of you will be given a chance to return to the day you were together ten years ago and change the way your lives turned. You have two choices. You can choose to change your actions, forget this time and embrace the alternate future or change it and remember both futures.” She smiled at each of them. “Think real hard and choose wisely.” With that she gave a bow, turned around slowly and appeared to glide away.
Sesan looked at Isioma and made to speak. She held up her hand stopping him. “I remember all your sweet poison words Sesan, I forgot about them for a long time but I do now and I don’t want to hear them anyway. I am going to bed.” Clenching her fist around the stick, she walked into the house and made her way to her room.
Her phone was glowing, a call from Martin.
She did not pick.
She sat down on the bed and considered her options. Her life with Martin was not real. He was a good man that deserved someone better than her. Her son was precious but he needed a mother. If she could go back in time, she would throw her phone into the toilet and leave the state.
The Sesan she knew liked to be chased and adored. He would not bother to look for her until it was too late. Ivie was the best friend she did not have as a child and came to love dearly. Her friendship with her had caused her more harm than good.
She took a deep breath, reached for the lighter on the table beside the bed and lit the Joss stick.
As she let out the breath she was holding, she blew out the flames and whispered. “I want to be happy, I choose to forget the past and embrace the new future.” She dropped the now smoking stick in the ash tray on the stool beside the bed, took of her shoes and snuggled under the bed sheets.
She felt a heavy load being lifted off her chest.
She smiled radiantly and relaxed, everything was going to be alright.

Ivie looked at him with venom in her gaze. “Why did you hurt her?” he chuckled and shook his head in amazement. “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t mean to?” he placed his right thumb under his chin and smiled sadly. “ I loved Isi, heck, now I remember, I still do. I didn’t get married until five years ago because I was searching.” He looked at his left hand and rubbed at the mark his newly vacated wedding band left behind. “I am still searching. I’d always be searching because I found the person I was looking for years ago but was too vain to admit it.” Ivie got off the swing and stood in his face. “ You made me lose my best friend, I should hate you for that but funny enough, I don’t.” She squeezed his shoulders reassuringly. “You have a chance to make it right, fix it.” she smiled slyly and sashayed into the house.
Sesan relaxed on the swing and looked at the stick. Shaking his head doubtfully, he did not know what to think.
He was a rational thirty eight year old man and did not believe in voodoo, magic or witchcraft. However if it was possible that he could forget about Isioma the love of his life for all these years then anything was possible. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and brought out his lighter. He had resumed smoking when he realized Rukky was serious about the divorce and was planning on leaving him penniless. If this was going to work, he did not have to think too much. He knew what had to do, lighting the stick and blowing out the flames, he muttered. “If this works, I want my wife and do not want to remember how much of a bastard I have been.” He dropped the incense on the floor beside his sandals and stretched on the swing.
He was spending the night outside.
When dawn came, he was either going to wake up with an aching back or in the arms of his dear wife.

Ivie leaned with her back to the door and laughed out loud.
She got out her phone and sent a text to her mother. She read what she wrote out loud. “I love you mother, everything is going to be fine”.
She began to hum happily.
A part of her that was lost was found.
She felt alive.
She searched the drawers and found a box of complementary matches. Lighting a stick, she held it close to the Joss stick until it burned brightly. Blowing out the flames, she closed her eyes and inhaled. It smelled like citrus. She clicked her tongue in approval. "Not bad. She giggled in excitement and danced around the room spreading the scent of citrus as she did. She came to a stop in front of the mirror and spoke aloud. “I am ‘soooo’ going to be famous!” She giggled again and swung her hips in a boogie. “I want to remember! I want to remember everything, the past, the future, and the present. The food I ate last night, the clothes those two wore, Isioma’s kids name, Martin, the accident, everything!” She dropped the stick in an empty glass cup, padded to the bathroom to shower and brush her teeth. When she was done, she bounced into the bed and drew the duvet over her head, giggling like a little girl she stole a glance at the Joss stick still smoking in the glass cup.
She smiled dreamily and winked at the glass. “I am so looking forward to tomorrow.”

... to be continued