Showing posts with label NYSC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NYSC. Show all posts

Thursday, November 5, 2015

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!!

Thursday, May 23, 2013

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

Friday, March 8, 2013

The Tortoise, The Hare and Mr. Nancy


Honestly speaking, with the earth as my witness, I did not set out to be naughty yesterday evening. I was minding my business, steadfastly making my way home when the incident occurred.
Truth be told, I was the victim!
After a long day spent in service to the fatherland and at the same time in repression of thoughts of the extra spicy chicken lounging in the pot of stew in my kitchen, I decided to take the scenic route home.
The journey would have been quiet and uneventful but for the interruption of my line of vision by a man who’s bald head reflected the setting sun.
On seeing him, I stopped walking and gaped at the sight before me. To be sure I was not imagining things, using my eyes, I traced the position of the sun and followed it down to its reflection on his head.
My forays would have gone unnoticed by the dear man if only my traitorous eyes did not decide to on their own check out his profile, conclude he was quite young then again look at him as if to ask what the secret of his shiny bald spot was.
I believe by some stroke of unfortunate luck, he heard the unasked question because he changed his direction and made to come to me.
I did not stand to see what he had in mind.
I “stoned” my face, looked in the other direction and scurried away as fast as my little feet would carry me!


(reward for hard work!)



Where are they now?


Do you remember the creature?
Wise and solemn, he often outwitted the boastful adversary
Slow and steady, he extolled patience
On darker days he was foolish and greedy, ending up with a broken back.

How about this one?
With speed and wit the accomplished feats
He followed the captives to a foreign land
With ears so long, he wormed his way
To their hearts, tradition and immortality till now.

I refused to believe the trickster is gone
Once in time he gave us stories
Hailing from West Africa he outsmarted his father
A being of skill, his web connects us all.


Thanks to the death of the tales by moonlight, fun educative programs on local TV stations and their relations, hopefully, most of us will know this creature as

A Tortoise.
Member of the family Testudinidae a family of land-dwelling reptiles in the order Testudines.
They are usually daytime creatures (diurnal) with tendencies to participate in twilight affairs (I did not just think of glow in the light vampires).
Tortoises generally have lifespans comparable with those of human beings, and some individuals are known to have lived longer than 150 years
(Grand Master Oogway (also known as Master Oogway or more simply Oogway) was an elderly tortoise and the previous senior master of the Jade Palace. He is credited as the founder of the Valley of Peace, the creator of Kung Fu, and the developer of the Dragon Warrior legend).

This next one on the other hand might be a little hard to follow.

As his close relation seems to have stolen his thunder.

Hares and rabbits (Leporidae) together form a group of Lagomorphs that includes about 50 species of hares, jackrabbits, cottontails and rabbits.
While huge differences exist between the two, hares and rabbits have short bushy tails, long hind legs, long ears and share similar position in folkloreStories of the hare started out as lessons to African children on the values of humility and wisdom. Overtime, as the stories made their way across the boarders of Africa, more of the responsibly was given to the rabbit.
In time, the hare was hardly mentioned.

Arachnophobia or arachnephobia is the fear of spiders and other arachnids.

Given Name: Kweku Anansi
Father: Nyame, (sky god)
Mother: Asase Ya (fertility/ earth goddess)
Gender: Male
Date of Birth: Unknown (around the time when animals and humans spoke to each other).
Day of Birth: Wednesday
Height: Little. Weight: Light.
Address (es): Kumasi, Ghana / Kingston and the counties of Jamaica and other Caribbean territories / The Sea Islands and South Carolina (Gullah), USA / the island of Haiti / Paramaribo and other districts within Suriname, South America / Garifuna Communities, Belize, Central America.
Country of Origin: Ashanti, Ghana
M.O. (Modus Operandi): Trickery; Quick-change-artist; Uses his brains; Hustler; Outsmarts persons larger than himself; Known to travel with immigrants; Often gets in trouble for a misdemeanor.
Main Enemy: Osebo the Leopard, A.K.A: "Bre'r Tiger", "Bra Tiger", "Bro Tiger", Tiger.
Spiders are air breathing, eight-legged predatory arachnids with a body consisting of a fused head and thorax and a rounded abdomen. They are arthropods with fangs that inject venom. They are the largest order of arachnids and rank seventh in total species diversity among all other groups of organisms.
Spiders are found worldwide on every continent except for Antarctica, and have become established in nearly every habitat with the exception of air and sea colonization.

It is considered bad luck to kill a spider



Happy birthday Izy!

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Head. On a silver platter



I doubt I can burst into spontaneous tears like the beautiful Oge Okoye (I was lucky to be in same venue with her and a group of them “Nollynians” when a colleague asked her to “cry for the camera”. Just like that, the dams of her tear ducts went “pop!” and out poured the torrent. I was awestruck and was like; how did she do that?!)
I am very confident however that, when it comes to displaying vengeful and earth scorching anger, I am a pro.
All that is needed to trigger this emotion is to picture any or all of the present lower denominations of the Nigerian currency.
Talking of 5, 10, 20 and 50 naira notes!
I mean whose bright idea was it to replace the trusty paper money with “waterproof” and nylon?

Did the clerics at the “Aso court” foresee a flood?

It is bad enough that I wasted precious time in school during my formative years learning about the characteristics of the Nigerian currency (...legal tender, store of value, etc) which does not apply to the Naira now I have to deal with money melting in my pocket, getting broken, becoming suddenly shy and transparent.
I can just picture the teenage airheaded girlfriend of the person in charge of “currency design” rubbing his head and saying “honey, if you really love me, for my 18th birthday, I would like money that can be used to make boyfriend slippers” and him belting out “Yes my darling! Yes my lady!! Yes my love!!” like a randy he-goat.
See me happy today thinking I had managed to avoid the embarrassment and insults that ensue when you give a “red-eyed” bus conductor a thousand Naira note for a 30 Naira trip only to be pulled out from my state of bliss by my brand new 20 Naira note which became a living thing before my eyes, underwent mitosis and lost its twin to the wind.
My poor keyboard is taking a beating for my annoyance.

Keyboard I am sorry.

So, days back, a lady friend of mine wrote in bewilderment “do these people think youth corps members are goats?” when I asked her why she was lamenting, she spoke of how they usually took away the good chairs and left the broken and useless one’s for the corps members.
They could either seat on said chairs at the risk of loosing/harming body parts or…
I sent my condolences and proceeded to speak about the weather.
Today I went to the southwest secretariat and saw a herd of corps members.
They were clustered together, trying to force themselves through a tiny doorway while begging for attention.
Some were lying on top of the other, sweating, looking tormented and forlorn. While others turned savage, forgot why they were there in the first place and took to exchanging words and occasional blows.
The image of a Fulani herdsman gently guiding his cattle to greener pastures came to mind but unlike these people, the cattle’s are usually clam, well spaced and taken care of.
For someone like me that experiences claustrophobia on occasion, playing hooky became my light at the end of the tunnel herd.
Thinking back, that lady was wrong in asking if they thought the Nigerian Corps Members were goats I believe the idea is somewhere between intelligent monkey’s and cows.

In other news:
Nawti by Olu Maintain still gets me swaying my pseudo hips to his flute beckons. While the burst of color in the Fotojenik (remix) and Sisi Eko (Remix) videos by Wizboy ft Ikechukwu and Dare ft. Flavour makes me happy, I still have giggling fits when the image of Kate Henshaw dancing “Etighi” in the video of African Skank by JJC comes to mind.
I’ve seen the videos over and over and still it is not enough, something in the lyrics, symphony and fluid movement makes me proud these artists are who they are as well as Nigerians.

And then prince charming threw Oseyi over his shoulder, straddled his kpekpeye and rode off into the sunset.
*PS: they lived happily ever after (minus the fowl)