Which Bag Will You Put Your Money In?

First of all, I am not proud of this post. Actually that is only mostly true because the only reason why I wouldn't want to sound like this is the same reason why most Nigerians jump into politics. See I am scared that someone someday may do a background check on me just when I am about to get that life-changing government contract signed, and I would loose it because of my colorful pen. But I think I can live with that while there are other ways of hammering in Nigeria (There is still a chance that that background check might not happen in any case.) So I am taking a break from being a conscious and serious Nigerian who uses everything he's got in an optimistic philosophy of making his life Nigeria better. The long and short of this is that I just want to be real for one post. 

So as many as about 70 million people are going to sacrifice their time to have their voices heard through their votes and they will soon find out this meaning of Democracy:

"Democracy: "The state of affairs in which you consent to having your pocket picked, and elect the best man to do it". Benjamin Lichtenberg

My version of this thought is more positive than Benji's own. It goes:

"Democracy: The state of affairs in which you hand over your money to the best dancer and you let him manage control how he uses it".

Let me explain, the state has oil money resources and these are managed by individuals we elect. Even though we are all entitled to all these resources, for the sake of order, we elect a few to control manage it. It is a way of owning something without having control over it, just the way artistes sign their copyright to the label for their "own good".  So in essence, 'ballot in the box' = 'money in the bag' (just so we are clear, state resources).

I should really end here but I have not gotten to the fun part yet, that is the Nigerian situation. Somehow the choices of most Nigerians lie between two bags, so welcome to the fun part.

The Scumbag

Mstcheeeew! All these idiots be acting like my feelings don't matter. whether you like it or not, they do, even moreso since I have been in every other conversation these past few months. So I guess we both agree I am popular. Popular enough to tell you this: like your fathers before you, most of you are suffering. And like them you think it is people like me that cause it. Your Father! If not for people like me, you will not even have a country sef. Some people think because they are younger than me, or more educated, they can talk nonsense. They should continue and we'll see who they'll come begging for a slice of the national cake from, after this election. I have already told them to arrange themselves very well or they will continue in their poverty. Thankfully sha, some sharp guys have  tried and they are now wearing my colors. Other idiots are going for that douche bag. Do you even know what a douche bag is? Let me tell you. It means: a contemptible or despicable person. Do you know what voting for a douche makes you? You better vote for me, oh because you don't want to know the answer to that last question. I might be mean, but I am not as low serving as that douche you keep disturbing people about. Just so you know, I am not a magician, I can't cure NEPA's epilepsy (you no get babalawo for ya village?) And all these boys looking for job, no be all of una go get am oh (lazy people! See how your mates are hustling in Lagos and you are begging government to do something for you). But I can sha promise you this, I will have smarter excuses than your celebrated douche bag if you vote for me.

The Douche bag

Is it my fault that Nigeria is the way it is? Did I invent corruption? These nonsense Nigerians will hustle and manage to travel to yankee and when they see that America is better than Nigeria they will start yabbing me as if na me dey take light for NEPA. Upon all the insults they pile on me, I am still the GSOTNC (Grand Shearer Of The National Cake), what's left of it anyways. They will insult me on Newspaper and online then after I send one of my boys with a tiny piece of the cake, they will change topic and start talking about Autistic children. See, me I am not against my fellow Nigerians because I still need their votes to win this election. If I don't win, nobody will hire me because... well I owe you no explanations. The person I dey fear na that Scumbag that is eyeing my job. Bros, I know you have been waiting in line, but no be for my head you go hammer oh. Just go relax, if na the cake you want, I fit arrange am for you na. But you sef dey vex oh. See yab wey you yab me.... As if a Scumbag is more righteous than a Douchebag. Why people come dey campaign for you sef? make you learn from your mates na. You know any 70 year old looking for the most difficult Job in Africa? Make you pity your children na. E for dey easier make you even go school (or maybe not, because we both know why you didn't go in the first place, hehe). Oya slow down, I go settle you after Saturday. You know say I be your boy na. 

This Saturday, the majority of Nigerians will be left with two choices where they can drop the currency for their socio-economic development. If you are a Nigerian, will you put your money in a douche bag or a scumbag? If you are not Nigerian, who do you think is worth your suffering, the douche or the scum?

This Neveruary

This was published last February before the election but it somehow disappeared. I wonder why.

The scientist looks harder into the telescope, he is bored of the problems here. He wants to create new ones out there. Are they out there staring back at him or are they already in the neighborhood? He knows the truth, but he has traded the freedom that comes with telling it for the power he was promised for keeping it. Can we have both power and truth at the same time or will we never know the truth about aliens? A few gods own the truth and they keep the power and they are not willing to share either with the rest of us. They want us to think that we can only get one or the other but their true intention is to make sure that we are only left with a delusion in our hands. They leave us wondering whether we should pay the price for truth and give up our power or pray that we never find out the truth that will haunt us. This Neveruary, he is going to find out whether to pay or pray and he will take the advantage of the power of truth from the self acclaimed gods of capitalism and share it with the rest of us.

Politicians fighting for power. An aging ruler vs a struggling simpleton. Who will win the race? With a vicious run for it, they find smart thinkers, and planted their seeds of reasoning. Some called it change others transformation. Some watered it with money, others placed a higher value for their conscience-more money. They added fertilizer on the seeds- all colors of religious and tribal sentiments, some good intentions (the kind that pave the way to hell) and the promise of a few big interests. The hungry streets grew with the seeds and the fruits of opinions were formed. The fruits fell on the ground and littered the floor. They rot and filled the whole air with their smell- this is the food of the streets. Soon, all you will ever know about those streets will be the fruits of the opinions. Except that the innocent children who are crying out for their future beg that they are not a part of the argument for the more appealing mediocrity. They do not want Goodluck to be their valentine and they do not want to see this Febuhari come to past. All they beg for is that politics be based on patriotism, fair judgement, and the right values. The politicians both backed down and said, you know what? They are right. Since we can't give them what they need, we will back down and find someone that can this Neveruary.

A lonely boy got popular. But it didn't help his loneliness. He has been lonely for so long that the few times he makes love with his right hand, he feels less human. Loneliness seemed to be his destiny until he fooled a girl to be a part of his loneliness. And they started sharing that loneliness together. He is not sure how long he can keep her there or how long he will want her to stay. But he spent valentine's day with her, unlike one of his friends who broke up with his girl for farting on a date two days before valentine's day. He even bought her a precious gift from a land too far away unlike his other friend who emailed his girlfriend a pdf novel she had been looking to read. All these he did knowing that he needed something for the future. So he gets proactive as he plans the next 10 steps. He wastes no time in finding ways to fill his future loneliness with friends he could replace his hand with or better yet friends he could fool to make a lifelong commitment to share and enjoy his loneliness. The only problem is that it is not the future yet, but he has started living it. He stops himself halfway into completely escaping into what he is enjoying and brings himself to the present where the innocent girl he fooled was waiting to share his loneliness. He will get rid of his projected happiness and be faithful to this girl and he will turn his loneliness into togetherness and have friends for the sake of friendship only, this Neveruary.

Life Hack- How to Rule the Friendzone Like a Champ

1. First, drink in the rude awakening: Accept that you are not being desired the way you want. This is actually hard until you let go of your sense of self entitlement, that feeling that you are supposed to be wanted, you are supposed to be needed, you deserve her/him. Fact is that you are not loosing out by letting go, you are simply accepting the fact that that person does not see you the way you see them. Admitting to that will help you keep a healthy dose of self-esteem.

2. Feel Bad About It: I know exactly how this sounds on the surface, it is not a real advice. But I have noticed that the reason why we undergo prolonged suffering is because we are in denial of what we are truly feeling. You already feel bad about it, but you try to remind yourself of little victories that negotiate that feeling. Bad news is, you will only draw yourself into a stream of uneasy battles, first with yourself then with the other person to overcome those feelings. Feeling bad about it is the right reaction, and the right reaction is a step away from the right next action.

3. Call it a bad idea: You like her/him, she/he doesn't like you the same way. The implication of this is that you two cannot have something special because you do not like each other the same way. If that was the picture of a relationship, you will not be happy, because you will outspend your energy in an unbalanced relationship. A status is not worth your happiness. Make it clear that your happiness too matters, and that is hinged on being desired in a special way. If this person is not willing to give you that, well then it means you have to find another that will willingly give you what you want. So in a nutshell, withdraw your desire and save it for another.

4. Be a friend: Duh! If she says she just wants to be friends, you realize that is all that you can get. My advice, take it. It might be very hard going back to being friends as normal, but journeying back to where you started is one way you can recover. Learn to appreciate the person as a friend and get rid of any extra expectations you have. This is what it means to be a genuine friend. This step is actually telling you to be selfless. What will you gain from this? There are no guarantees, but you would have done well in handling things the best possible way and if the friend does not appreciate you for that, I promise to give you a medal if you ever meet me.

5. Wear a cape, or at least a t-shirt:  I mean, be the bigger man, the matured party, climb the emotional high ground and operate from that level. The feeling of disappointing another might not go well with him/her, so put that into consideration and help the other party realize that you can actually be happy (if not happier) being friends. This will not only make the other person respect you, it will boost your self esteem and help both of you deal with the friendzone well.

6. Move on: This cliche is necessary, but you have to move on in the right direction and only after you have gotten over the negative feelings that welled up from the friendzone experience. Technically there is no such thing as a rebound from a friendzone, but watch that you are going for what you want, not running from what you cannot get.

This is all I've got on this. Remember you have to communicate all these steps, so be sensitive to know when to apply which step as they may not work out in any particular order.

History Makers and Wind Breakers

How would you feel when you are trying so hard to hold in a fart in a stuffed up bus then someone else decides to relieve themselves on you? I bet you will find your resolve weaken consistently until you yourself mix the air with a mess of your own making. That is exactly how corruption is in Nigeria. There are people that are trying so hard to avoid the temptation of looting public funds, so they can deliver quality public service. But along comes someone whose value system starts and ends in their stomach, that just lets out the ooze of their corruption and what do you think happens to the guy that is holding in his fart? The usual way of things is that the most honorable of them all usually lets out their gas slowly and hope that the intensity of the stench they offer stays a layer just beneath that of the guy that has spearheaded our collective suffering.

And therein lies the impact that fosters a breakdown of good intentions, the kind that pave the way to hell. The examples that we have been left to follow allow us to let out our less lethal farts in a place where the air is poisoned with the farts of our leaders past. 

I bet there are a bunch of guys that are running for office in 2015 thinking that well, I am going to make a difference. I will be accountable and transparent. I will be a revolutionary leader and Nigeria will remember me as a history maker. I believe that is possible, but you have to know what you are up against when you roll with that line of thought. You are going against a culture of corruption that has been established since 1960. And I realize that you imagine you will walk in there without even a fart up your ass. But know that the farts of the majority might just poison your stomach and if you choose to hold that fart in and be a history maker not a wind breaker, remember that the difference may not be clear if the whole air is poisoned. Clear the air and you can breath fresh air (not the one they sold us the last time), and ensure that you yourself are not poisoned by it. 

Freedom or writing, same thing...

I was going to start by asking how I got here. But I know very well how I got here, so there is no point bullshitting anyone. That's another thing, I swear a lot, most times in my head. I am very violent too, in my head that is. There a lot of things that go on in my head and that may shed some light as to how I got here, being a writer I mean. See, in my head I can easily travel the full spectrum of human and well maybe some immortal personalities, but how are you gonna fit all that into social interactions? No, conventional wisdom (that fucker) dictates that we be as consistent as we can be with such things that can be used to identify us as personality. It helps the observer (pretty much anyone with an opinion about you) to place us in the portion of the spectrum they are familiar with and perhaps predict the most salient and expected outcomes. See, it provides some sense of security (mostly emotional) for them. And you on the other hand want to be accepted, and people you threaten natural do not accept you. Seems like a bad bargain for me, but that's just me, I have no urgent need to be accepted. I am fine being the lonely exception, one more evidence that makes me look upon conventional wisdom with contempt. 

As usual, I start off like I've got a subject matter then I watch myself fly into every direction possible. Hey, try and change me! Cos this is what I called freedom. That I can fully dish out a thought and communicate crystals of intellect that my mind harbors. I'll stay on conventional wisdom for a bit so that I can find myself the much overrated closure. See conventional wisdom is some trick by immortals to suppress the rest of us (I have to identify with you guys yo!). They throw a net over us and suggest clearly that we can't venture past the boundaries. A few people go past the boundaries but only a handful get more than the foreplay. Those guys are facing the greatest oppression from those immortals they look better than. I'll like to drop this here and get back to my original thing cos my thoughts are starting to train on immortals.

That is another thing. How exactly is it that I can say some of these things I do with some measure of conviction, I know that my expressions may take away their essence (they are purer in my head). And I do not even have any reference or facts to back them up. I'll just wait for them to materialize in this reality or a parallel one. Maybe knowledge might just be a continuum. The bible clearly states that there is nothing new under the sun, so I guess we are all in a circle of knowledge. What seems newly discovered is simply a deeper search into something that was already there.

I will hold my pen here. But just so we are clear, I was just writing for writing sakes, you know, to get my writing juices flowing once again, freedom it is called, I believe!

Silence

I hear silence

I hear the streams of nothingness bounce off the walls of my mind

This stillness plays a familiar tone I have come to know

It beats the dud rhythms that I identify with more often than not

But I have to defy the articles of the law to do some justice to it

The true laws of grammar and the way of words

Permit me also to scale the walls of conventional literature

Do not be offended by my rebellion of everything conventional

I just don’t buy that shit

Now with words of a king I am here to proclaim silence my queen

She waits for me as I draw away from the world and mankind

She is always patient to make sure that we are both alone

I remember when I first met her

It was a long time ago, about my earliest memories

It was when I was first plagued by consciousness

When I first realized I had feet and teeth

Silence was my first love

Always there to embrace me when the world declared itself my enemy

She saved me when I was drowning in all the bullshit around me

She kissed me with the deepest passion when loneliness made mockery of me

Yes, silence is my first love

And we’ve both had a long thing going for a long time coming

One time, we had our unusual lovers’ spat and I turned to my brother for help

He rained my praises everywhere I went

And she got jealous, I couldn’t understand why

She was always jealous of people that posed no threat to her

So she made enemies with everyone and everything

My brother, my family, my friends, school, I mean everything that you can put together in words

I didn’t realize she had left me until one time when I needed her

When everyone around me seemed to fornicate with foolishness

And dwelt only on the surface of things

I have to admit that I floated to the surface too

Maybe that was why we had the problem

I took out my weight and just left her in the deep and went my way

Their way, the way of the world

Until I found that I couldn’t do without her

That my whole essence depended on her

That with her I could find the completeness that I sought

Then I started to seek her

I started to crave her voice

And all those conversations we had with no words

I remembered once again, all the peace she offered

And her selfless love, the kind I was counting on to help me find her now.

 And that memory did serve a good purpose

Slowly I started to ebb down that familiar road to her house

I closed up the books, turned off my friends

Made my way to the gate and boarded a cab home

I rushed through the door like I always did

The sound of automobiles receding behind me

I flung my bag to the floor, it’s usual place-anywhere on the floor that is

Slumping to my bed, I started to tune off the loudest noises

I made it down to the smaller details eventually

The distant voice of a radio from the next compound

The blue birds chirping away their time on the branches

The occasional tips and taps of random sounds

Could she be behind those drapes that seem to be hiding more than the view?

I didn’t wait for the answer to that question

I peeled back the curtains and made my way to her

I followed the sun, and everything beautiful it had to show me

And I got to the clearest of waters, so true I could only think of one thing

I dove in and went as deep as I could

So deep that not even the sound of my thoughts could venture

I made it to hers

And she stood as she opened the door, just before I knocked

Clearly she was waiting for me

The delight in her face paralyzed me when I realized I didn’t bring her anything

I was not only paralyzed, I was lost

I couldn’t find the words I had rehearsed in the mirror

Yet she figured me out and swallowed all my doubts in one embrace

Then came the release

The usual letting go of things that only the two of us were used to

But you couldn't rule out the awkwardness as we made an effort to adjust 

Afro Kungfu

[This is one day I wish I was Ofilispeaks.com so I can get those cool graphics on my blog...]
I don't even know why I picked that title, it makes me think of a Chinese man with an afro haircut. When did you ever see that in the Chinese movies you've seen in your days? This may be overstating it, but I think almost everyone has seen a Chinese movie. And maybe 3 out of 5 of those have seen the ones with terrible synchronization. I won't complain about those ones if I were you, because there are still the ones that had the terrible translation in subtitles only, and in the worst cases they transcribe the wrong movie which makes it equivalent to the base level of watching Chinese movies, the ones with no translation.
If you have filtered down that funnel of Chinese movies, congratulations, you are now a certified movie junkie. Now that I have found my kind, let me announce the one commonality in this group, we don't care about their dialog. We are just waiting to see the Kung Fu moves. If the fighting moves were good enough, the movie was good enough. The fluttering kicks and the dazzling twisting and turning stunts, oh boy, who needed to hear what they were saying? The good guy would always kick everyone's ass, sometimes up to a hundred guys at a time. I often wondered why they all wait around and take turns to make a move at him, but the second he throws one foot to meet a flying kick and mid air he does a roundhouse kick to swat another guy swinging his sword at him in the opposite direction, I give up scrutinizing the logic and on he goes. This keeps happening until he meets the bad guy toward the end of the movie and pulls the magic move on him to send everyone to a happy ending.
While that is the typical narrative of the average Chinese Kung Fu movie, not all Kung Fu stories go that way. In Afro Kung Fu, an angry mother or father would smack their kid at the speed of light, leaving the poor kid disoriented until he makes sense of the pain inflicted and he fills the air with the sound of his cry. There was always that awkward silence after the first round of beating when the child is trying to figure out the appropriate response to the situation-they were torn between utter admiration of the fluency of the moves and the accurate response that will ensure that a second round was not on its  way. Either that or  the children are slow like the bad guys in the Chinese movies, not knowing when the wrath of Afro Kung Fu was going to descend on them or even when it has descended on them. The pain is usually the element of reasoning when this has happened. And in Afro Kung Fu, you will find the dialog as intriguing as the fighting beating moves. The angry parent will always start with an impossible question, like what were you thinking when you lost the pen? I mean, how do you really answer that kind of question well enough to avoid a beating? Like seriously, let us attempt it. I lost my pen in school, should it not occur to you that if I was conscious of the situation, I wouldn't loose it in the first place? The only real answer to that question is 'I was thinking of loosing it, then I had to figure out how to answer this question all at the same time, and prepare my mind for your next move, then it happened'.
I have to give it to the parents though, in the event that it is not the anger talking, their real goal in the dialog is to ensure the annihilation of stupidity while the kid's goal is to make sure that dialog continues long enough for the parent's phone to ring or a neighbor to come knocking on the door, anything that could save the situation. And therein lies his weakness, the hope that the beating will not come. They all seem to have that type of hope. That hope is similar to the hope that once the pain settles in, the ridiculous tribal cry they give out will save them. I often wonder if the parents were pouring all their frustrations in that violent release as well. I think of how and when they learned all those moves. What I'll love to see is their moves against those in the real Kung Fu movies, it seems only fair.
I did not grow up on the receiving end of those moves. And I am doing okay, as far as I can tell. I wonder if African parents can find an alternative to the Afro Kung Fu. But I strongly recommend Afro Kung Fu as a sport, not to be tried at home! Somehow I thought to write this because of my neighbor, that's right, I am ratting her out! She is always angry every time she talks to her son. He is simply a defenseless opponent whose only move is to ensure that his words and actions align with his mom's mood. The second he goes off, she goes off like a loose canon. I think of confronting her mildly sometime at my own risk, just so I understand why she deems it necessary to give the young boy a beating all the time. I can hear her voice pierce through the wall, sometimes about the mundane things that are best hashed out with a gentle instruction. Until then, I do not know if parents still need this form of discipline and if they do, then I beg that we balance the equation with an alternative to the main bad guy the Kung Fu movie stars face at the end of the movie. That should seem fair.