In case of emergency

Hello boys and girls, children and parents and the rest of us who live in our shells.
Welcome to my class.
Today we’d be looking at Murphy’s Law (which happens to be very similar to “being worried from the village”) and how I dealt with it when it appeared the logical thing to do was give up and write to dear John.

According to the phrasing of Edward A. Murphy, “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong."
It could be interpreted in layman's terms as "When shit is bound to happen, it happens in the shittiest of ways."

It takes a typical female between 20 to 45 minutes to wake up, get up from bed, spend quality time in the bathroom (empty bowels, brush tooth, obsess over anatomical flaws and have a shower while pondering over outcomes of issues she cannot necessarily influence), get dressed and be ready for the day.
On average I am able to do all that (including blow a kiss at my reflection #self love before leaving the house) in about 15 minutes.
As a result of this I have time for life’s little pleasures like savoring a warm cup of something while munching on something else, scrolling through my phone and catching up with the news updates, social media and any text messages that might have wandered in while I was away.
Today was business as usual until my flat mate heard me switch on the heater and decided to scurry into the bathroom when my back was turned.

Initially I was like no problem, he’s a guy. Guys don’t have much to do in the bathroom.
In no time he’d be out.

*

*

*

I thought I could no longer tell time when I caught a glimpse of my wall clock and the hands were indicating 20 minutes had elapsed since I made a first attempt to have a bath.
To be sure I was reading correctly, I checked the time on my mobile phone and pc as well.
I marched to the bathroom door and twisted the handle.
It was locked.

What on earth is he doing in there?

I listened for sounds of distress, notes of a song, the whirr of a clipper... anything that would explain what he was doing in the bathroom for over 20 minutes.

Nothing.

I was not in a good mood.
I considered throwing on clean clothes, splashing on perfume and bouncing out like a boss but my toothbrush was being held captive in the bathroom along with my freedom to bath.

Not having a shower before leaving the house was a small thing but going out without cleaning my mouth is a crime.

He eventually came out and had the audacity to hum happily as he padded to his room.
I had an abbreviated routine and dashed out of the house in a bid to catch the bus.

I saw the bus!

I ran towards the bus stop and watched in horror as it pulled away.
The next one was due in 15 minutes.

I noticed further up the road, the lights had turned red. I figured if I ran like the wind, I would catch up with the bus at the next stop so run I did!
Just as I was getting close enough to signal for the bus to wait, the lights turned red and off it went.
When it happened a second time I gave up and let the bus go.

I was sweating, my ears were ringing and I was out of breath.

My phone beeped.
It was a reminder that I was late. This was turning out to be a very shitty day.
When I got off the bus I eventually caught, I was welcomed by downpour that began as drizzle.
I screamed in annoyance.
I was like “seriously? Really??” I realized then that if I let it, today was going to be a horrible – horrible day.

I stopped walking briskly and took to a leisurely stroll; noticing people, things and the life around me.
Like a sign, I spotted a friend I had not seen in ages. We chatted for a bit and parted ways.
Finally, I was at my destination.
Turned out I was not the only one late.

The high point of the day was going to the laboratory and finding out we were going to be running tests on samples of shit (faeces).
I laughed at the irony.

If I did not choose to dwell on positivity, the rest of my day could have been one misfortune after the other because I believed that because things were going wrong, it was only going to get worse.
This piece is basically a note to self that for every Murphy’s Law, there is a Charlie’s Law, which states; everything turns out right… when you let it.
It is a matter of choice.

Peace!

*ps:
Charlie's Law is from a book by Charles H. Ware titled Murphy's Law Repealed! it includes the following chapters
1. Murphy's Law Repealed!
2. If You Need Something, It Will Come to You
3. When Faced with a Difficult Task, Start
4. Just When You Think You've Run Out of Time, You're Done
5. If at First You Don't Succeed, Relax and You Will
6. You Are the Person You'd Like to Become
7. Everything You Do That Comes From Love, Works
8. When Life Seems Overwhelming, Do Less
9. If You Reach the End of Your Rope, Let Go and Fly
10. When You Choose Peace, You Get Peace
11. Live Each Day as If It Were Your First
12. When You Let Go, You Feel Joy

Throwback Thursday

I woke up feeling rather disoriented by the sound of a man singing “Ello Bae” and some other lines in a serious H-Factored voice. It took a while for me to realize I had accidentally set Falz’s Ello Bae as my alarm ringtone during my sleep induced battle with my mobile phone the night before.

I know I have admitted to having a H-Crush on Falz the Badt guy but when I begin to say things like “ Ello, I hate the bread you left over there, it tasted funny in my mat. His heat still good?” I take it as a sign to 'lean back' and draw the line.

Today’s throwback comes from a day in Two Thousand and Thirteen.

Myself, Amanda and Bumi got together and had one of the craziest, hilariously fun days of my one year sojourn in Ibadan, Oyo state.

The saga began some days earlier when during Community Development Service (CDS) we decided that since a grand tour of the state was not in the portfolio of the mandatory National Youth Service Corps (NYSC), we were going to go exploring on our own.

After choosing Trans Amusement Park as the venue, we started counting up to the D-day.

On getting to the location, I was a little disheartened when I saw the facility, which looked like it must have really been something in its heyday, was now a bit run down.

Not wanting to give in to disappointment, we made the best of what was functional.
By the time we were through exfoliating our butts on the ill maintained slides, willing the Ferris wheel to move and riding the carousel horses that wouldn’t neigh, we were all chuckles and shrieks.

As luck would have it, the rail trains were working so we paid for a turn.
Amanda’s antics (which included shouting “Ajegule! Ajegunle! Next stop “ at the top of her voice like a Lagos bus conductor got the operator in such a good mood that he gave us another ride for free!

We were initially going to end the day by having a go on the swing ride while hoping they didn’t disconnect and break when I noticed a canopy being set up.
We decided then that we were going to gate crash whatever activity it was that they were preparing for and were plotting our game plan when a sole male human dressed in white native attire and a black fila wandered into our midst.
The three of us began talking simultaneously. We spat so many incredible tales that I’m not quite sure which one we stuck to eventually.

In the end, it happened that it was a burial remembrance ceremony we succeeded in gatecrashing. (Free food, yeay!)

It was an upbeat party.
There was highlife music, assorted delicacies and Fayrouz!!
Every now and then, we stood up to embrace a "distant relative" and waved at clueless bystanders who looked a bit familiar.
After mingling with other 'invited guests', the celebrants, and posing for pictures, we opted for a change of scenery and relocated to a trending ice-cream parlor.
The nice team members ignored us while we jumped from seat to seat taking pictures and gorging on ice cream and wafers.
Finished with our sugar rush, we sat by the window and started “man watching”.

Not satisfied with just staring, we tore off pieces of paper and decided to vote on which of the male patrons was the ‘fairest of them all’.
I am pretty sure one or more of the male patrons must have been a tad disconcerted by the scrutinizing looks we gave to them.

After much deliberation and giggling we came up with the 3 finalist and decided it was only fair to let these complete strangers who came out on their own to relax and have fun with their family and friends know that they had been judged and found acceptable.

We proceeded to relay this news.

Our finalist were all bewilderment, smiles and good sports (off course they'd be, cute guys are born that way!)

We took a couple of pictures with our winners, packed up our bits and bobs and called it a day.

I enjoyed my service year.
I ceased the opportunity to celebrate the cultural diversity of Nigeria.
I discovered food recipes, acquired new skills and dropped a few habits.
I had misadventures, epiphanies and made friends that I am still in contact with to date.
Every day of the initial 3 weeks at Iseyin camp brought something exciting different.
Considering the good, the bad and the what-happens-in-Ibadan-stays-in-Ibadan, I can boldly admit that my experience of NYSC was quite close to the original idea.
I believe there is A LOT of room for improvement but No I do not think that NYSC should be scrapped.

For Amanda and Bumi: hey you guys! Thanks for the memories!!

Like fine wine

I make mistakes, I learn from them
with each passing day, my knowledge expands.
Like fine wine I guess, with age I do get better.
Although I can't ever predict what happens tomorrow,
when I am an old woman, I will wear purple!

Technology has become a living being;
it consumes, it adapts it grows.
Working with the advertisement media,
new tech is now a fashion statement.
A need or want? It doesn’t matter you must Buy! Buy!! Buy!

The Earth is finite, its resources, ours to cherish.
Unlike me, it isn’t getting any better with age.
Such ungrateful tenants we are;
burning, reaping, drilling.
Exploiting and forgetting to ask What? Why? How?

Wine is sweet but good health is sweeter.
To live, to laugh and to love,
to look forward to friendship, accomplishments and aging.
To bother about constant indecisiveness over what to wear.
Well, when I’m an old woman I shall wear purple.

Toh bad

Nenye resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
She was on a call with Stacy her best friend whose life was so ‘perfect’ she wondered how they remained friends.

Looking up she noticed the queue for the bus about 400 meters away from her was getting thin she couldn’t wait for her bus to pull up so she could go to her apartment get rid of the many layers of clothes she had decided to wear today and relax with the last can of Gulder she had found in a Nigerian store during her house hunting phase.
She glanced at the bus again. There was something about the bus number that was familiar.
She stared at it for a while before it clicked.
That was her bus! “Stacy I’m going to miss my bus! Talk later, love ya.” Ending the call, she shoved her mobile phone into her handbag, searched blindly for her ticket while running to make it to the bus stop before the driver shut the doors of her ride home.
The last passenger got on. She was half crying half muttering “please don’t go, please don’t go” as she drew nearer. She was so close.
The next bus wasn’t due to come in another 30 minutes and right now she wanted to pee.

She made it! The last passenger smiled at her before going to his seat. He saw her running and deliberately stalled so she could make it. For a moment she was so enthralled by his smile that she forgot to show her ticket. The driver hit the call button to get her attention. Embarrassed, she flashed her ticket and made her way to an empty seat after mouthing thank you to the guy with the lovely smile.
He was handsome, she was in love.

She got to her apartment without incidence and sighed as she opened the door.
For the next 18 months this little space was going to be her home. She hadn't spent up to a month in the town but she was already homesick.
Dropping her bag on her reading table, she padded over to the kitchen in her small studio apartment and brought out the chilled drink from her fridge.
Deciding to make it last, she picked up a bucket of left over chicken from the fridge, emptied it on a plate and popped it into the microwave. When the timer beeped, she carefully picked the plate and placed it on a tray along with the can of Gulder. She slipped into her sandals tray in one hand and opened the back door of the apartment.
She was nibbling the last piece of chicken when she smelled something familiar.
It was menthol flavoured cigarette, it was a smell she associated with a lounge in her home country.
Feeling like a hound, she dropped her tray and started sniffing around for the source.
The trail came to a stop at the fence dividing the apartments. She turned over a bucket, climbed on it and peeped over. "Aha! I've got you!" It was a man with his back turned to her.
The series of events that followed happened so fast, she almost convinced her self it did not happen.

He turned, she gasped, lost her footing and fell from the bucket and landed on her butt.
She heard him walk towards the fence. “Are you okay over there?” His voice brought an image of John Legend serving her breakfast in bed to mind. She nodded, realising he couldn’t see her she managed a squeaked. “I am okay, nothing is broken just my pride.” She heard him laugh and walk away.
She didn’t know what hurt the most. Falling on her butt or finding out the really cute guy from the bus she was now convinced she was in love with lived next door and his first impression of her was a chicken bone carrying clumsy stalker.

Nenye was awake and out of her bed before her alarm went off. She was a girl on a mission.
Today, she decided she was going to ‘accidentally’ bump into her neighbour she had nicknamed Denzel on his way to town.
They were going to engage in a brilliant conversation, ride the bus together, fall in love, get married and have babies with super sexy smiles.

She had carefully picked out what to wear, had her bath and was dressed with her face flawlessly madeup in record time.
Stacy would be proud of her (if not jealous), she looked gorgeous!
On high alert, she had been listening for any sound from next door indicating someone was leaving the building.
Two hours later, no one had opened or closed any door.
Giving up hopes of bumping into today Denzel, she picked her handbag and made her way out of the apartment.
Looking over the low hedge separating their apartments, she noticed a pile of empty cans of bug spray beside the trash can.
She thought to herself "That does not look right." With a shrug, she continued walking and headed to the bus stop.

The day went by in a blur, she kept looking out for Denzel until she was sure her neck was going to break from craning over so many times. She looked and felt tired.
She couldn't wait to peel off her clothes and crawl into bed.
As she searched her bag for her apartment key, she noticed someone had put the empty cans from the morning into the too full refuse bin by the roadside.
There was a tin of what smelled like half empty turpentine and a turned over paint can among the peeping rubble. The mixture was trailing over the side of the bin and flowing down the road to the street. Someone walking by dropped a still lit cigarette on the floor and kept on walking.
It landed on the turpentine-paint trail, she saw a spark.
Without thinking she dropped her bag and grabbed a handful of damp earth.
She imagined the number of explosive items that might have been carelessly thrown in the bin and did not want to lose her house in the event of a fire.
Besides she hadn’t gotten a chance to meet Denzel and have his babies. Speeding over to the front of his apartment, she arrived in time to throw the dirt on the fast burning flame and push the bin away. Unfortunately, in her haste she didn't look at where she put her feet. She slipped on the greasy burnt paint, lost her footing and landed on the concrete floor.

Nenye opened her eyes and grinned sheepishly at the worry lined face of Denzel.
Denzel!
She sat up with a start and yelped in pain. She had hit her head on something when she fell and it ached like crazy.
Denzel was squatted beside her.
He held he reached out to help her sit up. “Are you okay?” She mused. That voice again angry all of a sudden, she frowned and tried to yell as loudly as her aching head would let her which was rather calmly .
“Do I look okay? My head hurts like hell and I am living next door to fire prone people! Who puts ignitable substances in a trash can just like that? Have either you or the arsonist people you live with heard about waste separation and management before?!” The man had the audacity to hide a grin and look cute. “I am sorry about that, I’d speak with my flatmates.”
He handed her handbag and continued looking at her. She scowled. “What?!” “Erm this is going to sound awkward but I’ve been kind of hoping I’d bump into you again since we met on the bus. Do you mind if we go to the clinic to have you checked out and grab a bite or two afterwards?" Just like that all was forgiven. She smiled and muttered. “ Well, it is hard to hold a grudge when a guy offers you food after nearly burning down your house. Help me up.” He helped her to her feet. Within her, beneath the calm exterior she presented to him, she was swinging from vine to vine shouting alleluia at the top of her voice. She was going on a freaking date with Denzel, mission accomplished!

End

4th’s Super 8 Audio/Video Countdown (Nigerian Mix)

So I went on a journey *cue in temple music* okay seriously, not the figurative self-awareness type journey.
I’m talking about a sit on your butt-and-hold-your-pee-till-you-get-to-a-decent-gas-station/eatery 8/9-hour commute.
Having spent the previous days cheating sleep, I planned to pay my dues to mother nature and sleep the whole X miles.
There I was trying to find the best position to snuggle in a cozy corner with my pillow under head and facemask in the ready position when I accidentally hit the play button of a playbook forgotten under another pillow.
The 1st song that filtered through was enough to wake me from my haze of tiredness and move me to a level of nostalgic bliss making that journey a memorable one.
Heck, it could pass for a self-awareness journey of sorts after all because it confirmed my appreciation for Nigerian talent.
So without much ado, here’s my who, what and why Super 8 Audio/Video Countdown for the 1st week of October.



08. Toh Bad: Niyola

image courtesy channelo.dstv.com

Toh bad is in one sentence a love song.
It details the artists struggle with the emotions in her relationship and her steadfast affection for her love interest.
The song starts slow and continues in a harmonic stirring pace.
What I like about the video is that it portrays incidents I can relate to.
From the oftentimes unwanted inputs of over zealous friends who have their own opinions of how your relationship should go, to the trials and triumphs of being in healthy relationship but I think she overreacted though.
I mean it is very hard to find a man new to fame willing to gamble his popularity by admitting to the world that he is neck deep in love with the woman of his dreams.
She should have waited for him to come home, confront him before going all mad black woman.

I like that for this song, Niyola isn’t bathed in heavy makeup. She looks like the girl next door only sexier, confident with a rocking body and a lovely voice to boot.

07. Irionor: Blixxy (D Rapking)

image courtesy notjustok.com

Irionor is about the artist’s initial struggle for recognition and his career journey so far. He pays homage to his roots (which is incidentally my root as well) by rendering most of his lyrics in Esan an Edo dialect.
Irionor is Esan for ‘na so e be’ which is pidgin for ‘that is the way it is’.
The guy apparently has a lot on his mind so you would probably have to listen to the song (with an Esan speaking fellow on hand) to appreciate the depth of his talent.
Sadly BDR is yet to release a music video for this track so here I am waiting in anticipation to see what he comes in.
Meanwhile, thumbs up bro!

06. My Darlin’: Tiwa Savage

image courtesy theucloud.com

I think I should have added Ms. to her name but it would be more out of respect for how far she has come in her career than her present marital status.
My Darlin’ is the artists rendition of her devotion for her lover. She recognizes him as a vital part of her life and a source of inspiration. It is an engaging love song.
The music video is again set in a typical Nigerian wedding theme but this time it focuses more on the pre wedding preparations.
I can relate to the old lady's ‘ginger’ to grab that poor boy's plate of jollof rice.
Seriously what is it with traditional wedding and starving guests really?
The screens in this music video swing between the on going wedding preparations and old mother Tiwa’s memories of her married life and come to end with a solo dance number by present day Tiwa.
I like her acting!
She played the part of old mother Tiwa, young girl crushing on hot dude, newly wed, new mother and grieving wife flawlessly.
Erm I don’t get why she is in white apparel for most of her screens in the video though.
Thoughts anyone?


05. Eleda mi: Olamide

image courtesy tooxclusive.com

I can’t speak Yoruba to save my life but from what I’ve gleaned from the little English he threw in around the track, the song is about (correct me if I’m wrong) reaping the rewards of hard work.
The first thing that got to me in this track was the instrumentals.
I am quite happy to listen to just about any song with rubbish lyrics (I fondly refer to such songs as noisic) provided it has remarkable instrumentals.
I often try to guess how many classes of music instruments are present in a particular mix.
Take me to an orchestra and I’d be your loyal sidekick for months to come.

The music video follows Olamide and friends hanging out and fooling around then later decide to throw a party.
He invites everyone but me *sad face*
The song reminds me of a time way back when children actually had childhoods.
A time when I could throw a party without breaking bank, have fun without fear of malaise and communication was done via physical contact or letter writing.
I don’t get this “take me now stance” I have noticed him adopt in a couple of music videos though.
What is that about?

04. Marry me: Falz featuring Yemi Alade and Poe

image courtesy tooxclusive.com

Marry Me addresses The Problem Of Societal Expectations And The Female Ticking Biological Clock. Three amazing singers came together to create this piece.
Yemi Alade took time off in her search for “Johnny” to represent the ladies and the pressure put on them by society that they in turn put on any man bearing a slight resemblance to their prospective better halves. Falz (the man I know as the funny one with comical short video’s pertaining to his search for a valentine, wife, etc.) and Poe (who I’m just getting to meet) spoke on behalf of the men who are just a little bit confused as to what their relationship goals are *dodges flying shoe*.
The video gives tiny glimpses of what a typical Yoruba wedding is like and the goings on in the background of said weddings (or should I say the corners *wink*) including the dynamics of getting served in relation to where you are seated, using eye contact to pass and receive messages from a prospective "new catch", the accusatory glances from partners in a long relationship that doesn’t seem to be going anywhere and loads more!
I like the white and red wedding colors abi asoebi and Falz’s accent.
He makes the H factor sound sexy (OMG, did I admit that out loud?).
Okay, on to the next one!




03. Irawo: Seyi Shay

image courtesy goldenicons.com

This is actually the song that set me off on my journey to #.
Ms. Seyi Shay put so much positive infectious energy into this song that it was impossible to sleep afterwards.
I kept replaying the track till I was sure one of my travelling companions would toss the music device out the window in frustration.

Irawo which means destiny in this sense became true to the word after the playbook which was buried under a pillow found a way to beat the odds and be in the right position at the right time to get turned on my me.

In honor of the message of the song I am picking this song as my party anthem for my birthday (October 4, 2015).

About the music video; I can’t give a definite take on my opinion because I am confused.
At first it seems like the music video begins with the end and recounts the adventure of a fair maiden chosen as an offering of sorts for a young dashing prince (the dude looks familiar, abeg the guy be?) she startles her captors and escapes by running into the ocean.
The difference in costume at the beginning and the end is what has led to my confusion.
Now would be a good time for uncle C. Peters to enlighten me on his idea behind the Video for Irawo.


02. Baby Mi Da (Baby Jo Wo) Remix: Dr Victor Olaiya featuring 2Face Idibia

image courtesy spinlet.com

This is a remix of an original highlife classic by Dr. Victor Olaiya.
Remember what I said about my feelings for instrumentals and rhythm?
Well, this song is rich in that and then more.

I was stuck between pledging allegiance to Dr. Olaiya and 2Face but past history with 2Face proved him as the winner.

Up until a few years ago, 2Face was going to be my fall back guy for when things did not work out as planned between the now late Michael Jackson and me.

2Face is one of the few musicians I know who can turn just about any piece of musical item into a classic by having his name on it. He is a standard and an icon, someone who has proved to have Nigeria’s best interest at heart.

Baby Jowo is a song dedicated to Dr. Olaiya’s love interest.
He apparently offended her, is afraid to loose her so he is trying to find a way back to her heart.

01.Gollibe: Flavour

image courtesy youtube.com

This is my number 1 song for this countdown and I believe it would remain on top of my list for a long time to come.

He is playing a piano for crying out loud!

The song is mostly in Igbo but he manages to pass the message across.

Gollibe is a love song but unlike other love songs, Flavor sings like the words are directed to me personally.

Between us, it was love at first sight.
He has been searching for me and he has finally found me.
I am his soulmate and he is mine.

The music video is in two plots.
The first is the story of the crown prince who has returned to the kingdom to take a bride in preparation for his ascent to the throne. He meets and falls in love with a common village girl whose charisma and virtue are the highest points of her beauty.
Like the epic beauty pageant held in the courts of the Persian King Ahasuerus to replace Queen Vashti in the biblical story of Esther, a pageant is held in King Edochie’s court to find a befitting wife for Flavour the crown Prince.
From all the fair maidens presented to him, he picks and presents Ebiere the village girl to be his bride and they live happily ever after!
The second plot is a reminder of where we came from.
A reminder and representation of a time Nigerian children were brought up to respect their elders, taught how to be responsible adults at an early age and to be proud of their heritage.
A time when social events consisted of coming together to listen to stories laden with admonitions, history lessons and proverbs, learning intricate dance moves and songs to be presented at the stipulated time and reveling in their identity.
A time when we were Nigerians without the foreign accents.

With that, I have come to the end of this countdown.
Phew! That was quite a ride.
Do you have an opinion? Share it!

Until next time, here is the link for Irawo by Seyi Shay.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KK1vi8Dtat8


cheers mates!

Sunday magic!

How do I love you?
Let me count the ways…

The first was in a black Nissan jeep. He rolled down his window and looked at her. She felt an excited shiver all the way to her little toe. He was perfection personified. His teeth were even, his palms looked strong, he had the carriage of a man that savored hard work both in work and “play”. Her mind wandered. She thought of boat cruises, passionate kisses and trysts on sun-warmed beaches.
A car honked behind her, she returned to reality.

Next was a stately looking man.
A man smiling foolishly and nodding as he drove caught her attention. She checked for a handsfree or any device to indicate he was on a call; it would mean he wasn’t a driving madman.
It was then she saw him.
Seated at the back seat was another man. He bore a look that would make the wealthiest sultan quake. His clothing was crisp, his skin looked like a chocolate bar, opened at the right temperature and his hair oh his hair. His hair was sprinkled with enough grays to tease her obsession. She realized she was staring. Both men had stopped talking the driver obviously did not appreciate his boss being stared at like food. Who could blame her? He did look delicious.
Ah well she popped a mint-flavored candy into her mouth their loss.

Temptation was the one now ahead of her at the cash register. Earlier, he had held open the door for her, complimented her outfit and you know, done things that would make the crudest waif feel like a lady. He smelled right, talked right and acted like he was valedictorian at his finishing school.
Decked in safari shorts with a polo shirt that did nothing to hide his masculinity. He took her hesitation as a challenge and set about dousing her with charm.

The mistake was in a Danfo.
Dressed in white with dark locks flapping in the wind. She had recently been studying pictures of ‘Marley Hair’ so when she taught she saw a live sample on a woman she strained for another look. It was then he turned. He caught her perusal and gave an encouraging nod. Startled, she looked away but doubted she was a he. Thinking it was safe she turned to the subject once more wanted to be certain he wasn't a she. He wore white pearls in his earlobes and a velvet cap on his head and was blowing her a kiss? Horrified she looked away.

The door was open she walked in. Lying down in his Pajama bottom with his fingers faithfully scratching his balls was the one she lived with. Multitasking for him was channel surfing while scratching his balls. He paused for a moment and looked at her. With a lopsided smile, he bounded up, caught her wrist and pulling her gently to himself, fell back on the sofa. he eased off her heels, stroked her cheek and planted a kiss on her forehead. With a sigh he whispered. You are beautiful.
She snuggled into his embrace reassured and content.

The end

The blood you are sharing

Once upon a time…

After a couple of years of not knowing what my HIV status was, I took it upon myself on a bright and sunny day (spent running errands for everyone in my house but me) to stop at the next diagnostics lab slash hospital I saw along the road and find out.
Almost immediately I came to the decision I happened along a sign for a hospital that boasted pregnancy test, ultrasound, fertility booster and blood screening amongst it services.
Curious, I followed the path beneath the sign and came up to a somewhat abandoned building. I took it as a sign that maybe today wasn't a good day to get poked.
As I was about to turn around and go home, a youngish looking lady in a nurse’s outfit materialized from thin air and steered me in. I told her what I wanted to do, she confirmed the service was available and told me the doctor was on seat to counsel me.
Initially I thought counsel me for what now? Were all their patients positive? But gave myself a mental shrug and sat down. Since I was there, I might as well go the whole 9 yards.

A few minutes later I was ushered into the doctors office and came face to face with *Junior!

Junior used to follow me around when he was younger; he had crush on me about the size and feel of a hungry cheetah. The last time I saw him, he was in secondary school uniform.
I held unto the doorknob considering the wisdom of my next move.
I stole a glance at him. He looked older, more matured and crush free maybe he wouldn’t remember me? I wore a blank expression stepped into the office and greeted the ‘kind doctor’ it was the near smile on his face when he responded to my greeting that gave him away.

To add excitement to the ordeal he drew blood from me trice, declared me pregnant and HIV positive 1 and 3 times before finally deciding I was not.
I asked him to run the test twice again because by that time I had lost faith in his accuracy ( I repeated the test in another place months later still).
It was the act of drawing blood that drew my attention to another practice I hadn't done in a while; blood donation.

Present day…

June 14 is world Blood Donor Day.

During my undergraduate days, we got malt and meat pie after being successfully screened and donating blood. Compared to paying to have Junior play ‘touch and go’ with my emotions, those days were fun.

I don’t know if the malt and meat pie still follow, because blood donation these days isn’t popular in my present society. Maybe it is because people are scared of needles, afraid their blood will be used for 'ritual purposes', don't trust the storage facilities in the country or are just not aware.
Whatever reason there is, the simple truth is that you should because it’s a nice thing to do.

Aside from providing blood for accident victims, pregnant women in labour, cancer patients, sick anaemia patients and all other people in dire need of blood transfusions (minus vampires obviously) you could unwittingly be saving yourself because before blood donors are accepted, the donors are screened first – verbally and physically (via blood screening et al) thereby exposing any hidden disease you might be harboring.

Donating may actually help you control your blood pressure, reduce the number of circulating bad cells, and remove excessive immunoglobulins.
Then there’s that feel good aura you get knowing you have played a part in saving a life.

There are several types of blood donation (Whole blood, Platelets, Plasma and Double red cells) with Whole blood being the most common.

To qualify as a blood donor, you must be aged 18 to 65, weigh 50kg and above, have a normal blood pressure and acceptable PVC level.
Before a donor's blood is taken, a test is carried to determine if he/she has enough to sustain him after donation. However, pregnant and lactating women are not accepted for homologous blood donation as well as;
i. Anyone who has ever used injection drugs not prescribed by a physician, such as illegal injection drugs or steroids not prescribed by a physician
ii. Anyone who has ever received clotting factor concentrates
iii. Men who have had sexual contact with other men since 1977
iv. Anyone with a positive test for HIV (AIDS virus)
v. Anyone who has had hepatitis after his or her 11th birthday
vi. Men and women who have engaged in sex for money ( ashawo/runs people) or drugs
vii. Anyone who has had babesiosis or Chagas' disease

viii. Anyone who has taken etretinate (Tegison) for psoriasis
ix. Anyone who has risk factors for Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease (CJD) or who has a blood relative with CJD
x. And people with tattoo’s

Male donors can give blood every 12 weeks. That's approximately every 3 months or 4 times in a 12-month period. Female donors can give every 16 weeks or approximately every 4 months.
It is advisable to get plenty of sleep the night before you plan to donate, eat a healthy meal being careful to avoid fatty foods, such as hamburgers, fries or ice cream (tests for infections done on all donated blood can be affected by fats that appear in your blood for several hours after eating fatty foods) and drink an extra 16 ounces (473 milliliters) of water and other fluids before the donation.

In response to the saying “voluntary blood donation is good but na when person even chop belleful im go remember that one” have it in mind that if you're a healthy adult, you can usually donate a pint of blood without endangering your health. Within 24 hours of a blood donation, your body replaces the lost fluids. After about 21 days your body replaces the lost red blood cells with fresh and more vibrant cells, so you not only loose old and weak cells by donating, but you gain stronger and fresher cells.
So next the next time you are in the mood to go for a blood drive and actually see it through have it in mind that the blood you are sharing could and would save a life.


End




* Junior is not his real name

Talitha kum – ANNIE PART 1

She groggily opened first one eyelid then the other and blinked. Her throat felt hoarse and her eyes heavy. Awareness of her surroundings hit her with it memories of the events that led to the moment.
A pained moan escaped her throat, squeezing her eyes shut she pulled the tails of her shirt closer to her body and rolled up into a ball.
She was on her bed fully clothed complete with shoes and gold-chained purse now hanging across her chest. The bottle of sleep pills she considered emptying into her mouth earlier lay forgotten on the floor she ended up taking just enough to help her sleep. Albeit briefly.
She felt dirty, very dirty. She did not think a bath was enough to clean her but it was a start. She winced as she got up from her tiny student bed the memory of the ordeal intensifying her pains. she hobbled to the kitchen reached for her electric kettle and filled it from the tap while ignoring the telltale marks on her wrists.
She placed the kettle on its hub.
Changing her mind, she got out the ring boiler from the lower kitchen cabinet filled up a 25 liter bucket, placed the ring boiler in the bucket and connected it to the power supply. While waiting for the water to boil, she drifted towards the bathroom, reached for the light switch and shielded her eyes from the intensity of the fluorescence bulb. moving to stand in front of the mirror hanging above the bathroom sink she dared to look at her reflection.

The eyes staring back at her didn't seem like hers.
Hers were vibrant, these were empty. The ever-present spark of good-natured mischief that danced within her gaze had burnt out.
She was in pain both physical and emotional.

She felt a chill trickle down her spine but did not move. She continued to stare. With a pained sigh, she let her mind wander to earlier that day.

The day it all went wrong.

Pumping an excited fist in the air she spoke loudly so she could be heard over the music. “Udeme, I’m having so much fun!” Annie wondered why her elder brother Murray had warned her off him, he seemed like such a cool guy. She checked her wristwatch. It was a few minutes to seven. Emptying her glass of chapman, she reached for her purse and made to stand while talking “Udeme, its getting late. I have to start going back to campus, my bestie’s group is presenting tomorrow, I want to give her emotional support.” She giggled. He reached for her. “Come on girl, relax, you just got here. We haven’t seen in like 2 years. Relax.” He nudged her back into a sitting position. “You know what? Come up with me to my room, I want to show you something. Do me a favor and I’d have my cab guy drop you at your doorstep.” She raised an eyebrow and gave him a cynic stare. “Yeah right, Udeme I’m not that type of girl biko, let me be on my way and FYI if it’s the same cab guy that brought me here, I chatted with him while coming he told me he was closing for the day.” He finished his drink. Signaled for the bartender to bring the bill and hopped off his stool. “Come on Annie, don’t be like that. Your brother is my very good friend. Do you think I’d do anything to hurt his little sister? I am checking out of the room today I want to pack my stuff and move to GRA please, please come with me?” he pouted and batted his lashes at her. She laughed. “okay, lets go.” “great!” he dropped some Naira notes on the table shook his head at the bartender to forget about the change and lead her towards the rooms. Reaching his apartment, he used the keycard and stepped back to let her pass. He swirled around in the middle of the room and spread his arms above his head in an eagle like fashion. “nice?” she clutched the strap of her bag tighter and spoke in a whisper. She was anxious. “Udeme pack up your things quickly please. Its getting late.” He picked up his phone. “I’m calling the cab guy okay?” “okay.” She let out a sigh of relief while he spoke to the cab guy. “oya talk to my friend, she no believe say you dey come.” He handed her the phone. The cab guy assured her he’d be with them shortly and was going to drop her on campus then disconnected the call. She handed his phone back to him. Not liking her pensive mood he stepped back and pouted. “oya smile na.” she chuckled. “That’s better.” He put a parcel aside as he packed. When he was done he zipped his duffel bag closed, picked up the parcel and walked towards her. “This is the favor I want from you.” He pushed the parcel into her hand. “This is the first on my designs, I want you to try it on.” She unwrapped the parcel and was amazed by the sight before her. “wow, its –its beautiful, wow.” She traced her fingers along the pattern. He smiled. “go, on, try it on.” She blinked. “here?” “the bathroom is through that door.” She hesitated. “Erm Udeme?” “Annie please now?” she shrugged. “Oh okay.” She padded to the bathroom making sure to bolt the door behind her. Putting on the dress, she let out an amazed gasp. It was beautiful. The design was like something an Egyptian queen would wear, it enhanced her figure and the finishing was flawless. The back of the dress was something else though the cut was too deep, she could almost see her panties. Udeme knocked on the door. “Annie, the cab is here”. Come out. “Okay, let me change back into my clothes.” “No time for that, put your clothes in the parcel you’d change when you get to your room and give him the dress to bring for me.” “Uh okay.” Grabbing her clothes, she unlocked the door, purse and parcel in hand and hurried to catch up. Udeme’s jaw dropped open. “Annie f*ck you are beautiful.” She blushed. “Thank you. Oya lets be going.”

... to be continued

WHO IS NORMAL?

Foreword:
After spending most of the day conversing with the personified NEPA; striking deals and talking to myself. I considered the mad people roaming the streets and wondered if to them we were 'the insane'.
These musings brought to mind one of my favorite lectures from my 1st teacher. 
It’s a bit lengthy (approximately 1800 words) so if you are not one with the zeal for knowledge, kindly tune out, turn off and go play with your dollies. 

Congratulations! You are among the elite. Make an effort to read to the end. It promises to be worth the effort so sit back, relax and be educated…


Question 1: Who are you? Are you a normal person?
Question 2:**
Question 3: **

This brief lecture will share some ideas with us all. We shall in Part I look at the concepts of Restiveness and Youth restiveness, then we shall examine the word “normal” and discuss the problems associated with trying to establish who a normal person is and its implications for education. 
In Part II we shall look at “why children fail?” and conclude.

PART I

WHAT IS NORMAL?

The question what is normal is not so easily answered as you might think. The social sciences and psychiatry have never come up with a definition of “normal” which is satisfactory to everyone and at the same time allows clear – cut specification of normal behaviors. Indeed, we know much more about abnormal behavior, even if sometimes we have a difficult task in trying to separate the one from the other.
The word “normal” is derived from the Latin word “normalis” which means “made according to rule”. Hence, the English word “norm”… a rule or guideline. At least four definitions of normality have been proposed at various times by various people. Often, two or more of these definitions are combined in an informal way, thus compounding the confusion over the meaning of the term “normal”. The four definitions of normality are listed below.

1. Normality as health.
2. Normality as the ideal.
3. Normality as average.
4. Normality as ethnic or natural.
Let us take a brief look at each of these in turn

1. Normality as Health
One of the most popular models of normality is derived from the field of medicine. From this model comes such terms as “mental health” as its converse, “mental illness”.
Traditionally, this model has defined mental health (normality) as the absence of disease or illness. This is a negative definition. i.e. one is healthy if one is not sick. The 19th and early 20th century medicine saw health as a qualitatively different state from illness. The healthy body was qualitatively different form the diseased body. The analogy was carried over to “disease of the mind”, so that the mentally ill persons were seen as qualitatively different from mentally healthy persons. Advances in medical science in the 21st century have led to a more sophisticated view of health and disease, such that health is viewed as a relative rather than an absolute state. In other words, one is healthy if one is reasonably free of undue pain, discomfort of disability. This newer conception has been transferred to the field of mental health, thus increasing sophistication but decreasing clarity.

2. Normality as the ideal
The conception of the normal person as the ideal person was first promulgated by the psychologists, although now it is a notion held by sizeable proportion of social scientists and psychiatrists like Carl Rogers, Erich Fromm to name a few.
In this view, the normal person is seen as the optimally functioning individual. The normal person is one who is maximizing all the potentialities within himself (a notion Carl Rogers calls “self actualization”.
The conception of the normal person as the ideal person is rarely held alone. Rather, it is often combined with one of the other models of normality.

3. Normality as average
In this view, the normal person is one whose behavior is similar to that of the majority of his fellows. Strictly speaking, a deviation in either direction from the average or majority is defined as abnormal. In practice however, some kinds of “deviation” or “abnormality” are highly desirable. For example, the majority of people have an I. Q hovering around 100, a deviation of 40 points from this average should strictly speaking, be seen as abnormal. However, it is clear that most people do not view an I. Q of 140 in the same way they view an I. Q of say 60.
Thus, this model is rarely held in its purest form, but rather is contaminated by criteria outside of it, for example, social desirability even so, it is probably one of the most widely(if unconsciously) held models of normality.

4. Normality as ethnic or natural
In psychology and psychiatry this is a relatively recent conception; however, it has been held in one form or another since the beginning of recorded history, in this view the normal person is the individual who does the right thing or lives in accordance with human nature. One modern day proponent of this view is Herbert Mowrer, a prominent psychologist, whose point of view is that the normal person conforms to the current social morality (as internalized by his conscience) or he shows open nonconformity with social mores and is prepared to accept the consequences of his nonconformity.
A psychiatrist who holds a similar view is C. Jung who believes the abnormal person is one who has “problems in living”. The normal person on the other hand, knows the rules of the game of life and plays accordingly. He is aware of what it takes to lead the good life and is capable of following up this knowledge with action.

SOME DIFFICULTIES WITH THE MODELS OF NORMALITY

Even in the sketch presentation outline above, it should be clear that these models are not carefully thought out and represent only the barest prototypes of a good theory. Each model taken alone appears to be inadequate to account for the phenomena it attempts to explain. Thus, most people implicitly combine two or more of the models without clearly understanding what they are doing. It becomes extremely important then, for persons engaged in conversations where the word “normal” appears in reference to human beings, that the meaning of the term be specified as clearly as possible by all of the parties concerned. Chances are very good each of them is using the word “normal” in a different fashion from the others.
One of the primary reasons there is so much difficulty in this area is that there have been a few attempts to specify the observable behaviors which denote normality or its lack. For example, what does a “mentally healthy individual” do or not do, that is different form a “mentally ill” person? What types of behaviors does a “self – actualizing” person manifest?
The ambiguities inherent in all the models lead to numerous problems in the practical order, especially in the classroom. The ambiguities can be seen in the following illustrations:

Case I: Adeolu, a primary four pupil enjoys being alone, he is never aware of the feelings of the other children in the class. He has no friends; he is fond of spinning objects while outdoors and watching television silently indoors. Although very poor in speech behavior and communication, he is very good in music and mathematics. Is Adeolu a “normal” child?

Case II: Jambo a primary four pupil is always active and restless in the classroom. He could never be seated to listen; he always disturbs other children and made too much noise. In the class, he is the most difficult to control. Jambo’s concentration is low as his attention span is very short. As a result, his academic performance is poor. Is Jambo a “normal” child?

Case III: Mrs. Okoro, the primary six teacher scheduled a Mock First School Leaving Certificate examination for Friday morning, shortly after the examination was over, Ngozi, one of her bright pupils who was absent from the examination presents herself with the following explanation; she told her teacher Mrs. Okoro that she did not come for the examination because she becomes too anxious and panics stricken when taking examinations. She lamented that on the night before (Thursday), while revising her notes, she had several bouts of vomiting and dysentery. On her way to the examination hall, she broke into a cold sweat and her hands were trembling so much so that she was forced to go hide herself in the ladies. Kneeling before Mrs. Okoro, Ngozi is all in tears because she sees her aspiration to earn a First School Leaving Certificate seriously jeopardized by her fear of examinations. She begs Mrs. Okoro for “any help”. Is Ngozi a “normal” child?

Think about the above three cases for a bit.

Just who is normal anyway?


IMPLICATIONS FOR EDUCATION

As can be seen from the above three cases, the teacher is constantly faced with the problem of defining for herself who is the “normal” child.
Is the fear of examination alone sufficient for the teacher to brand Ngozi, in Case III, a” non – normal” child? While the example of Adeolu (Case I) is a clear – cut case of autism, how many teachers are familiar with the typical symptoms of autistic behavior in children? In the case of Jambo, (Case II), many teachers are often tempted to dismiss Jambo as being “lazy” and “mischievous”. Is this a true characterization of this type of behavior?
Until there is a more acceptable definition of “normal”, the classroom teacher needs to be very conversant with disorders of childhood and adolescence before she can categorize a child as “normal” or “non – normal”. In the second part of this work, we shall argue that many children fail because the teachers fail to understand and properly address many behavioral abnormalities that impede and frustrate the “development” of the young, especially during the early stage of life...




Culled from YOUTH RESTIVENESS AND THE PROBLEM OF WHO IS NORMAL: IMPLICATIONS FOR EDUCATION a lecture given by Prof J. D. Okoh. February, 2012

Prof. Joseph Donatus Okoh is a professor of Education and Fellow of Philosophy of Education Association of Nigeria (PEAN). His qualifications include:  

B. A., Philosophy of Religious Studies (Rome), B.SC., Psychology ( De- Pere, USA), M.A., Guidance and Counselling ( Rome). His M.Ed and Ph.D were obtained in Philosophy of Education at the University of Alberta, Edmonton, Canada.

The Cockroach Letter

A cockroach letter is a standard bulls**t letter sent by a company/service provider to a customer in response to a letter of complaint/evidently dissatisfied customer when the body of said letter meets certain criteria.

Today I was reminded of an incidence from 2009 between me and my bank when I got a mail that didn't concern me (or so I thought) from them.

I had often heard people talk about cockroach letter and did not think much of it until (and to my surprise) when for all my effort and after the stress they put me through, the bank sent me said letter and (would you believe it?) a complimentary pen! Like I was supposed to write away my hurt.

I was too weak with disbelief to do anything then; I mean who gets a pen after being defrauded?

So today, when I got the unnecessary email from them and saw their reply I looked up Cockroach letter and discovered a funny story which I'd share next.

"

This guy on an aeroplane noticed a cockroach in the aisle. On arriving at his destination, he fires off a letter to the president of the airline, pointing out that roaches thrive where there’s filth, and that he expected better things of the airline company.

Within a few days (this is in the days when one posted letters) he got a letter in response, deploring the roach incident, saying that they had never heard of such an incident before and that if he produced the letter he could get an upgrade to first class next time. In addition the plane and its hangar had been fumigated and that the maintenance crew had been disciplined, and in closing, Thanked him for bringing this nasty situation to their attention!

For months he told his colleagues and friends about this fantastic service, attention to detail and how the passengers of this airline meant so much to them. 

Then one day he hauled out the letter to show a friend, and a post-it note that had been stuck to the inside of the envelope drifted to the floor. He picked it up and read in absolute shock - it said: Grecian - send this idiot the standard cockroach letter

."

My bank asked me to send the transaction date and my account number which thanks to my penchant for taking pictures every other day I was able to provide. I am quite curious as to how this will play out...
a). Would they refund my money after 5 years?
b). Will they still insist I arranged to have myself robbed?
c). Will they send me another Cockroach letter?

Have you ever received a Cockroach letter from a service provider?
How did you react?

As you like it

That awkward moment when the sugar rush from eating milk wafers is lacking after going through the whole mouth pleasing pack.
Torn between fighting the urge to spit out the last bit while checking to make sure the product isn’t expired makes quite an amusing picture.
Eventually the realization that wafers are not a good remedy for eye-blinding hunger comes to mind.

A funny thing happened last week…

February 14 was St. Valentine’s Day.
A day which appears to have been ‘from a summary of past accounts and history’ originally a celebration of love between lovers but now is an occasion to give alms to the poor, visit orphanage homes, go to church, bankrupt selves in the name of impressing a beau, have meaningless sex (possibly after receiving a gift of white handkerchief, singlet and boxers) and/or feel sorry for yourself for not being in a relationship/in love/ involved.
From past accounts and recent times, it seems to be a day when people not only choose to wear red and white looking like members of the Ayelala secret society in Edo state but also generally pair up and have fun with one or a multitude of friends/strangers.
Somehow this definition was lost to me because I ended up spending the fun part of the day being continuously dunked in water and it was not because I was smoking hot.
I was supposed to be a quite observer at a pool party; drink in hand, beau at hand all was well with me until a girl who even I had difficulty keeping eye contact with (she had water filled balloons for boobs that threatened to fall out of their barely there ‘enclosure’ every time she moved) decided to pick up the ice filled champagne bucket, ignore the lot of people wearing swimsuits and boxers and empty the contents on a fully clothed me in the name of ice bucket challenge.

I mean, what the hell was that?!

Shocked and freezing, I scurried off and went to change to dry clothes taking time to towel dry my hair and apply lip-gloss on my kisser.

location: Hôtel Bimyns, Porto Novo.

I barely reached the landing of the party grounds when suddenly I was airborne, twisting my neck in a bid to identify my pilot, the arrival destination came to view: the pool.
Screaming, I tried to explain that I wasn’t dressed to swim/I had just changed out of wet clothes. The final bit of my protest came out as a gurgle as I had been unceremoniously dumped into the pool.
This happened about two more times until it occurred to me that changing out of my wet clothes seemed to be a subliminal invitation.
The highpoint part of this account happened the next day when a young man who spoke in amazement about a guest who had an unbelievably ample behind for her tiny frame was cut short by another man telling him the buttocks was fake, that the lady took them off when she went to use the bathroom. The look of hurt that lined his face at the deception was so sad it was hilarious.

I did not find anything wrong or right with what she did though. It is her body after all and she is allowed to do whatever pleases her with it.

Shout out to NEPA for giving me a few seconds of power to write this.

For your views and comments on body magic, wonder bras and the likes (aka fake hips, nyansh and boobs), use the comment box below.

Ciao!

With Brooms, Umbrellas, Crops and Livestock.

Twenty fifteen elections are around the corner with different candidates from different political parties vying for a mark beneath my thumb.
Although they are different, they are united by a common goal.

To effect positive change and growth.

They say this in earnest and with palms across their chest, they make this pledge. They seem believable, they seem true yet I find it a little difficult to trust their word.
How can you give me change when you permit irrational acts to be done in your name?
Since when does cutting away the roots of a tree strengthen the plant?
Aside from intimidation, name-calling and image bashing, all over town, promotional posters are splattered indiscriminately defacing buildings, fences and road dividers to name a few.

I am thinking to myself, “who will clean up this mess?”

Over the months, I've come across jingles, adverts in publications and really pretty billboards (plus or minus Photoshop).
Nice words, catchy phrases; I got the message.

Ten-eleven years ago, I went to watch a theater presentation with my mum in the evening. It ran longer than the usual 2hrs but was worth it. We made our way home and were surprised to see lots of cars parked in front of and about our residence.
At that time, it was a tradition for members of staff and office holders to personally visit family members of recently bereaved.
My dad had gone for an official errand and was due home that evening.
I scanned the lot of cars looking for my father’s vehicle.
It was not there.
I looked at my mother she looked at me; neither of us uttered a word. We knew what the other was thinking but were afraid that if we spoke it might come to pass.
Our silence was a prayer.
In trepidation we got out of the vehicle and walked into the house.
I saw someone.
He looked like my father, he sounded like my father but I hesitated to admit he was my father.
The man looked heartbroken. He was pale, shaken and in tears. Words I have never associated with my father in all my years.
His clothes were blood stained, glasses askew and his lips trembled whenever he tried to speak.
He was a wreck.
It turned out he was involved in an accident and his driver died.
Not from the accident but from lack of… I really can’t say.

They were flung off the road by a trailer avoiding a pothole without functioning breaks.
The car fell into a ditch and they passed out momentarily.
My dad was the first to come to.
He called his driver. When he realized the driver wasn’t responding to his name, he urged the gathering onlookers to assist him.
As luck would have it, there was a government hospital about 20 minutes away. He gave a man some money to use an okada to bring help. The man returned alone saying the staff on duty said there was no fuel in the ambulance. Without thinking, he gave him money to give to them to buy fuel.
When the ambulance came, they loaded the driver into the vehicle and drove straight into a bottleneck. The road was bad so only one side of it was pliable. In addition, they had to drive slowly because one of the back tires of the ambulance had a fault.
After about an hour or more, they got to the hospital.
First they would not let them sit till they confirmed my dad could afford the registration fee and ensuing bills. After that, the generator would not come on and there was no waiting for NEPA because the transformer was blown.
Almost frantic, he gave them money to do what ever it took to get light in the hospital.
After taking the driver to the waiting room. The nurse on duty said they would have to wait a while because the doctor on duty was in his private hospital. My dad sat on the bed with his driver cradled in his arms.
He kept talking to him and urging him to hold on a little while longer, ‘help was on the way’.
It was when the nurse was reprimanding the cleaning lady for not preparing the bed like she asked her to that the driver tapped my father and said “oga, you don try for me. I don taya. Make I go.”

About four hours after surviving a ghastly motor accident, the driver *Mr. X Y Z gave up and died in my father’s arms.

3 presidents and 10 years later, similar incidents are still occurring.
People are still dying from neglect, disintegration and misplaced priorities.

Twenty fifteen elections are around the corner with different candidates from different political parties vying for a mark beneath my thumb.

Before I accept your promise of positive change and growth, do you know who the people are?
Are you abreast with the needs of said people?
What makes what you are saying now different from what you said in the past?
How do you intend to add quality to my life?