Sling-back hooves

A freak accident is an accident that is extremely unlikely and unusual.
It is kind of like breaking your wrist from tripping over a lizard while paying for fuel you brought 65 Naira per liter at a petrol station in Nigeria today.
Breaking it down further, I will go ahead and paint a picture.
Please follow me.

Imagine waking up at dawn to a bright and promising morning.
Imagine checking your calendar and preparing for an appointment that would herald your biggest break ever.
Imagine being careful with your wardrobe, accessories and (if you are female or Denrele) make up.

Note the absence of the need to get maimed or die in the sequence?
Good.
Now imagine being stuck in traffic for about an hour, lamenting on the loss of precious time and then having the bright idea to hop on an Okada
(motor bikes with the ability via the experience of the driver to meander through traffic at a daredevil pace) to get to your destination.

(featured above are bikes and samples of some of their uses)

Usually, this idea works out for the best and the day goes on as planned but on rare occasions, this turns out to be the stuff of nightmares.
It begins when while on the bike; a truck suddenly manifests from nowhere, the bike man reacts illogically and runs into something (most likely a car, tree or signpost) from there, things generally begin to go wrong.
When this happens, you develop amazing mutant abilities that keep you airborne for all of 3 seconds.
If after your “flight” you are able to land on your feet unscratched then, it is no big deal.
If you however land on parts of your body not adapted for flight, you will end up breaking joints, limbs and fleshy parts.

The thing with freak accidents is that we pray it never happens to us but unlike regular accidents where you can avoid (like not deliberately sticking wet fingers into an electric outlet, dating a Nollywood icon or consuming expired food and drink)
freak accidents happen when we least expect and are ill-equipped to handle.

This entry is supposed to be about the life and times of cattle and the men who attend to them.
From their conception, growth and sacrifice to the different forms in which they appear on food menu’s after they cease to be alive.

When I want beef, I look for an honest looking butcher and buy the needed quantity from him. I imagined the same would happen when I wanted an interview.
I was wrong.
It turns out there is a strong solid society of butchers which consists of a head, secretaries, other executives and loyal members.
If I were inspired, I would call it a cult of sorts where men are born to slaughter cows, rams and goats while defaulters are stripped of their knives.
On that faithful day, after being passed from one butcher to the other, I was finally brought to the public relations officer who spoke to me as he cut up chunks of beef into smaller pieces with a dangerously sharpened knife without missing a beat.
We began the interview but because of my timing, I was given a later date and time for its conclusion.

Thinking of the date I was given brings a sultry satisfied grin to my face.

It was for earlier this week, I missed it!

Given another chance and a choice to choose between the interview and *cough-cough* I bet you know which I would go for ;)

The dreams, life, destiny.

Therein lies our hope.

Today, I would share a story, about a woman who bore a tribe.
The tribe was rich, magnificent and grand. It flourished for a long while and then it begun to deteriorate. Slowly at first then drastically. Eventually, due to events that occurred, the mother of the tribe was forced to trade the freedom of the people for sustenance to a beast that fed on malice.

Some remembered a time before, a time where they had freedom, choice and will. A time before they were pompous and vain so confident in their glory that they began to forget.
The tribe forgot what it was that made them special; their essence, their pride, their roots.
Over time they became lost.
It was easy for the demons of plague, drought and misery to overpower and conquer them.

From the bondage of the beast, the tribe looked to their mother for salvation.
In response, she taught them a dance.
Outraged, they protested; had she lost her senses?

Why on earth should they be made to sing and dance when their futures remained uncertain?
How could she call herself their mother whilst her offspring perished at infancy?

The beast you see, was also her child.
They knew she had the power to stop it.
For they had decided: should she choose to free them, she could. She could end their tribulations; she only had to care.

In their history it was noted "We cried to her for help but for us, she did nothing".

In rebellion, they turned away from her.
To them she was heartless, to them she was a farce; they would have nothing to do with her.

In the midst of the tortured, there were a few who learned the dance in trust.
Through trials, starvation and death, they persisted, sang and danced.
Never ceasing, never failing.
This dance was taught to the little one’s, the children that survived.
One generation to the next.
When the time was right, the dance made sense.

Hidden in the lyrics, rhythm and beat was a means to kill the beast.


In my present location, when my conscience would allow, I count the number of beggars that line the streets.
If I were to give each of them 10 Naira going and coming, I would spend nothing less than about 2,040 Naira a day.
Amongst these caste the nursing mothers and gaily-dressed get to me.
Who is responsible for putting them in the family way? Is there a community of beggars or a union? Are they born to be beggars or is it something they grow up to be?
With one hand they hold their baby to their breast, with the other hand they reach for you.
Begging for some change, playing on your conscience, vying for your pity.
Once in another state, I decided to walk home and gave my supposed transport fare to a man who told me he had not eaten in days figuring a morsel would be better than nothing.
The man threw the money back at me, cursed me in his dialect asking if he begged to be insulted.
I did not walk home.

We pray for those we love, those we care about and for ourselves.
Some of us get involved in freak accidents, loose limbs, defy the odds and come out victorious, while some walk away unscratched but are convinced our lives would never be the same.

They say death is the summit of life, did they also say to appoint yourselves judge and executioner over the life of another man?

Each day is a battle, one of choice and will.

Today I would share a prayer for strength, to those who have lost beloved partners, relations and friends.

The dead are now free, from the bondage of hope.

May they rest in peace.

Potty Logic

If you went “What the hell?!” on seeing the picture, you can half imagine my elder brother’s reaction when after calling out my name for a couple of minutes and searching for me in my regular hiding holes, he came to my room and stopped short as I waltzed out of the toilet with said item on the really pretty saucer.
At first I wondered why he was looking at me like I had sprouted chicken feet, was airborne and using thousand Naira notes as chop sticks to eat goat poop.
Then, it clicked.
I laughed so hard that I came close to dropping the saucer along with the bewildering item on my freshly laundered sheets.
When I stopped shaking so hard from laughter, he cautiously came close to me, examined my bounty and left the room with an incredulous sigh.
After controlling the urge to give into another fit of laughter, I dropped the saucer on a stool and went on about my business.

A couple of people at the end of the year decide to take a break and leave the hustle and bustle of city living behind for a few days.
Some travel out of the county and go to either exotic or questionable locations, others go to their holiday houses within the country (a few people in this category have to hold a series of meetings to decide which “holiday home” they would retire to) while the rest return to the states from which they hail from; also referred to as their villages.
It is when you live in a city rich in smog, traffic jams and head splitting street noise from dusk to dawn that you can appreciate the peace and quiet of the last mentioned location.

The fresh unpolluted air, friendly well meaning greetings from neighbors and the magnificent starlit skies at night might shock you initially but after a day or two, it becomes something for the “happy moments”.
With the rate of indiscriminate industrialization going on in the country, unworthy road vehicles and the ability to change a “stop work” sign with a few Naira notes, I often fear that in Nigeria 10 years from now, children would have to refer to story books for pictures of open fields, fruit trees and butterflies.

At the moment, I still have a village.
I count myself lucky.

Among the things I look forward to in my village are the structures that defy time and stand till this day, the do’s and do not’s of the land (…when giving a gift of yams, you either give 3, 5, 7 and above never 2, 4 or 6) and the assorted traditional delicacies which include *Ikpekere, *Oka bi ize weh, *Oli



and the not so traditional roasted groundnuts in their shells
* I am very sure my ancestors have gone 360 degrees in their graves at the bastardization of my mother tongue; I hereby beg their forgiveness.
*Ps:
To the nice reader who asked me what happens when you fart in a swimming pool, I’d like to first start by saying Oseyi is not short for ask.com (notice the absence of the preceding A and dot com in the name?) and then go forward to reassure him that the pool water will not change color around him (to my knowledge, that only happens when you pee in the pool).
For the record, it is very wrong to pee/piss/take a leak/ pass out urine/make water in a swimming pool.
You should never do that.
Seriously!
What happens when you fart however is that the gas, travels around your swimming suit (like a warm caress on a mildly sunny day) and comes up to the surface of the water as air bubbles.
So, unless you have a logical explanation for having loads of air bubbles around you, I do not think it is also a good idea to fart in the pool.
I hope by my kind efforts, I have been able to satisfactorily answer your question.
Have a lovely weekend and do not think of monkeys
- Oseyi

Black Birds

I was seated in this guy’s car, he happens to be someone that often makes me go: “Oseyi, your brain dey touch so? See correct bush meat for front you dey carry torchlight look bush” (aka gaga) but not for long though because I know him and me will never happen.
He’s cool, cute and smart (perfect combination for a heart breaker if you ask me).
While we were trying to ignore the fact that we were alone in a dark place and “no one was watching” should we decide to try out “interesting stuff” his phone rang.
It was his girlfriend.
After it rang unanswered for about the hundredth and twenty first time, I begged him to pick and swore I’d be quieter than the progress the Nigerian government is making in improving living conditions of the common man.
Not trusting my solemn vow (I wonder why) he picked the call and told her he was driving presently, he could not talk.
He promised to call her as soon as he was parked and reminded her of how much he loved her (so much for our moment) and blah- blah.
Night came, morning came and it was another day.
This event would have faded out of my memory in its own good time if not for the mad déjà vu I got when barley 24hrs later, I called the love of my life (he isn’t aware of this status by the way) and he told me he was driving and could not talk…

By my count, today is the 11th day of Christmas.
I have always known the song 12 days of Christmas but I assumed it was just something made up to give more children important roles like “gold rings”, “calling birds” and “turtle doves” to play.
It turns out the 12 days of Christmas does exist or a controversy surrounding the days anyway.
Since there is no concrete evidence to prove or disprove each school of thought, I’d follow the lead of theological scholars and leave you to decide for yourself.
With all the assorted birds flying around, leaping lords and milking maids, it would be easier to believe that the song is really about two lovers, a man showering his love with gifts and finally after she accepts his proposal, a wedding huge wedding (see: pipers playing).
The “calling birds” which turn out to be collie birds aka crows, seem to have been a delicacy at that time (they appeared in pies as well)

also the gold rings ( The five gold rings of the song were originally five ring-necked pheasants, not jewelry).
With so much reference to fertility and merry making, the link with paganism might not be too far fetched (apples represented females and pear’s: well endowed males).
Remember how GEJ used D’banj as part of his campaign strategy to make himself more popular with the erm… kokolets?
The Christians did something like that as well (not with D’banj though) they took the traditional pagan festivals and replaced them with Christian one’s.
It is told that in the 16th century, Christians where persecuted for teaching, speaking or even thinking Christianity so a couple of families together with Jesuits (smart people by the way) encoded the Christian doctrine in a seemingly innocent children’s song which they could sing openly without fear of arrest.

A partridge in a pear tree: Jesus (Luke 13:34)

Two turtle doves: The Old and New Testaments (which together bear witness to God's self-revelation in history and the creation of a people to tell the Story of God to the world).

Three French hens: The three Biblical magi and/or The Three Theological Virtues: Faith, Hope, and Love (1 Corinthians 13:13)

Four calling birds: The four Gospels Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, which proclaim the Good News of God's reconciliation of the world to Himself in Jesus Christ.

Five gold rings: The Torah or Pentateuch, the first five books of the Old Testament

Six geese a-laying: The six days of Creation

Seven swans a-swimming: Seven gifts of the Holy Spirit (Romans 12:6-8; cf. 1 Corinthians 12:8-11)

Eight maids a-milking: The eight Beatitudes (Matthew 5:3-10)

Nine ladies dancing: Nine fruits of the Holy Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23)

Ten lords a-leaping: The Ten Commandments. (Exodus 20:1-17)
Eleven pipers piping: The eleven faithful Apostles (Luke 6:14-16).

Twelve drummers drumming: The twelve points of the Apostles' Creed

No matter the myth, legend or source, it remains that as the Easter season begins on Easter Sunday and goes on for 50 days so also does the Christmas season which starts on Christmas Day, December 25th (the birth of Jesus) and ends at the Epiphany, January 6th *the day Christians celebrate the arrival of the Magi (Wise Men) and the revelation of Christ as the light of the world.
Twelfth Night is defined by the Oxford English Dictionary as "the evening of the fifth of January, preceding Twelfth Day, the eve of the Epiphany, formerly the last day of the Christmas festivities and observed as a time of merrymaking."

In the spirit of Christmas, I bring you my top Santa sightings in the year 2012.

I am guessing Rudolph et al were too drunk to fly

What happened afterwards is best left to the imagination

Santa and his not so little helpers

Introducing... Mrs Claus (his Nigerian secret wife)!!

Santa always delivers!

...and then this little girl became overwhelmed by Santa's allure (note the tears of joy)

Santa, always a helping hand!

Seriously, whats not to love about this Santa?!

* For enquires to the criteria for rating, leave a comment!

Thanks to the now more secular society, the hunt for the next money making venture, shows and awesome discounts to lure "holiday shoppers", Christmas of late begins in November (and sometimes as early as October) and goes on all through early December so by the time December 25th (Christmas day) really does come, most of us have forgotten the true Christmas message and the spirit that goes along with it.

Tomorrow is the last day of Christmas, 2012 was a year of growth heralding great expectations for 2013.
My final toast is to the people who will get tired of the Nigerian "suffering and smiling" mentality and do something about it.

Merry Christmas every one and Happy New Year!