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?

Finding root

T’was the night before Christmas…

Yeah right, who am I kidding?

The year was twenty fourteen, the place was Lagos Nigeria and the player was me.
It was about a week to Christmas. I lay flat on my back, mouth open wide and my not so large head nestled snugly between his palm and a blue cushion.
The next lines could have been he looked at me with eyes the colour of rain kissed wood, held my gaze with a promise of passion and whispered sweet nothings in my ear but sadly, this was real life and I was quite peeved.

I had been about that position for over two hours and was fighting the temptation to stick the one finger he asked me to hold up if I was in pain into his eyeballs whenever he asked me to open my already open mouth.
I was beginning to feel like an out-of-luck Crocodile who's open mouth was so unimpressive that even the dumbest of preys had failed to fall captive. I had my mouth thrust wide open to the best of my ability and still he said to open.

Did my mouth suddenly resemble chicken wings to be broken in halves and divided among friends? Did he want to use my mouth to disprove Hooke's law of elasticity or was he simply trying to widen the conversation gap between us?

I would not classify the trip to said dentist as a last resort or an act of desperation.
It happened as a result of necessity streaming from ignorance of the saying ‘physician heal thyself’.

It is so easy to tell a sick person “chei ya, kpele”, “keep yourself hydrated oh”, “eat fruits”, “exercise more”, “eat vegetables” “drink medicine”, “drink Agbo ” and what have you but when it comes to you being the sick one and doing the things you so confidently urged a ‘stubborn’ sick person to do it becomes wahala.

Eight months ago during a routine check-up, my dentist noticed a cavity in my tooth and told me to have it looked at before I came for my next visit.
Five months later, without reading my case notes she noticed what was apparently the same cavity and told me to have it looked at. I feigned ignorance and acted like it was the 1st time I was informed of this anomaly.

Four weeks ago, I went for 'vackay' at a resort and was having the time of my life - 22 hour power supply, uninterrupted streams of cold drinking water, swimming pool, picnic grounds, a zoo with living animals, lake-view, fish-pond, even bicycles for 2 (not built for 2 though).

I was in my happy bubble until I was awoken one night by a sharp piercing pain.
It felt like a hand drill was boring through my ears with the intention of locating and destroying my third brain.
For an instant I thought I was having a serious nightmare (or spiritual attack maybe?) and attempted to pray it away until I realized I was wide awake and moaning out loud.

After manifesting and running around like a headless chicken (which included acts like trying to disconnect my head from my spine, waking everybody else that had the audacity to be sleeping while I died from pain and attempting to put my head in the freezer to chill the pain), I took a serious NSAID and passed out.
I had similar episodes for the rest of the trip until I returned home and was only able to sleep after consuming (possibly expired) drugs.
It was then with 'tail between my legs' I called my dentist and told her of my pain slash new addiction to painkillers. 
Feeling emphatic but unable to assist she told me to bear through the weekend, gave me the address of a dental clinic close to my home and warned me to reduce the amount of pills I was taking.

For the rest of the weekend my bed became my lover, I did not want to 'leave him', all the urging to gargle with salt and warm water or use a cold compress fell on deaf ears.
I wanted a fast relief and “I wanted it now!!”

Ensuing the addition of the ‘root canal therapy’ badge to my 'dental milestones' I often wonder what other 'party' could be held in this 'little mouth of mine'.

While I continued to focus on keeping my mouth open, after examining the fading x-ray for what appeared to be the millionth time, the nice doctor removed his face mask, sighed and said he was not happy about the third root (okay so I knew teeth are buried in sockets and ligaments so its possible that it could have roots but having more than one root for a single tooth is news).
At that point, he had located and was satisfied with two roots but the third one? Not so much. He then proceeded to ask if I would be happy to return for the next session on Christmas day.
At that point, I wondered if the good doctor had suddenly gone insane. Like leaving the 'good stuff' and fantasizing about drinking cold water in an air conditioned room on Christmas day was not bad enough, he expected me to actually use my mouth without duress and say “yes please”, come for surgery and afterwards spend the rest of my holiday smiling and waving away plates of rice, turkey, coleslaw and the works that I could look at but not touch?
"G*d forbid bad thing!!"
I bluntly told him "No thanks".
As soon as he was done with his shenanigans in my mouth, I grabbed my handbag and scurried out of the clinic without a backwards glance.
T’will be a little while before I am ‘opening wide’ for the nice doctor again.

*PS, Merry Christmas!!

hiatus

/haɪˈeɪtəs/
noun (pl) -tuses, -tus
1. (esp. in manuscripts) a break or gap where something is missing
2. a break or interruption in continuity
3. a break between adjacent vowels in the pronunciation of a word
4. (anatomy) a natural opening or aperture; foramen
5. (anatomy) a less common word for vulva

Derived Forms
hiatal, adjective
Word Origin
C16: from Latin: gap, cleft, aperture, from hiāre to gape, yawn

- Collins English Dictionary - Complete & Unabridged 2012 Digital Edition
© William Collins Sons & Co. Ltd. 1979, 1986 © HarperCollins
Publishers 1998, 2000, 2003, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2009, 2012


Now that’s over with…

In my opinion, I have always argued that “wetin concern agbero with overload" will be the price increase you will have to pay per extra kilogram he is being made to haul. That is if the agbero being referred to in the above quote is the one that chases you with wheelbarrow or ‘baco’ bags forcing/urging you to give him your groceries to carry for you for a “small” stipend. If it is otherwise, you don’t have to accept this argument. like I said, it is my opinion.

This was going to be a really cute story of how one mother of an infant tied her wee baby on her back and ran to knock on the door of another mother of an infant (who due to the combined effect of the heat and the baby's restlessness had already tied her baby on her back after stripping said baby to a tiny cotton chemise) and told her that NEPA people where out side cutting their shared power supply line.
The story halted at this point because mother 2 was confused. She remembered sitting with her husband a few days back, keeping him company while he paid the bill online. She stood rooted to the spot counting her fingers to make sure she got the days of the week right. By the time she came to and got her legs to function again, mother 1 was standing outside with her stamped NEPA bill trying to explain to the mule headed gentlemen (one on the pole disconnecting the line, one in the car looking like a sickly getaway driver for a heist and one looking into space while the mother spoke) that they were not owing any payment so did not warrant their actions.
Mother 2 watched the proceedings from a distance because she knew since they paid online there was no stamped NEPA bill to show.
She nodded encouragingly at mother 1 supporting her in her mission from afar.

The cuteness was actually imagining a horse and a donkey getting together. The particular word to describe rest of the story eludes me.

The questions:

1. Do they know it is unsafe to keep cutting and reconnecting power lines?
2. Do they see the connection between constant cutting of power lines and electrocution of innocent homeowners and bystanders?
3. What type of spirit will push them to go ahead to disconnect the line after proof of payment has been tendered? Tendered by a mother backing a heat-disturbed baby for that matter!
4. Do they sleep with both eyes closed at night or do they find someone else to lay the blame on… the devil maybe?

Will remain “for the gods to answer” as they say.

Where my candle sellers at?!

Thank You For Not Touching

House of Gold

Directed by Pascal Amanfo
Produced by Yvonne Nelson

Running Time: 1h 40m

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

Plot summary:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Have a beautiful weekend everyone!