Pictures In My Album

Sometime late this year, I started taking pictures of different parts of Lagos. Unfortunately there are no pictures of the nice looking parts (and there are a lot of nice looking places in Lagos). Thought I would share what I have with you. Unfortunately, I did not save all the pictures on my flash so I may have to share the rest with you some other time.

I was on my way to Surulere and made the mistake of going through Apongbon(?) bridge. Little did I know that a lot of construction work was going on in Lagos Island. I remained in the traffic for over an hour. I was the only one in the car so I spent some time taking pictures and rocking the Lionel Richie tape I bought for N100.00 on the bridge:)

A portion of the bridge was turned into a car park with Alaye Boys (Area Boys) controlling that particular business.

You can buy almost anything on the bridge. Hawkers abound.

Puff-Puff anyone?

Even an ironing board for your laundry..

I was on Eric Moore Street, Surulere when I saw these men fixing some electrical fault. Thy should win an award for best safety practice;)

Making a living under the bridge (Jibowu/Yaba)

The other side of the Jibowu/Yaba bridge

Fixing Bar-beach, Victoria Island (again!). It looks much better now. Will try and get new pictures.

So this is Christmas....

So, how was Christmas at your end? I spent the day at work and got back home at about 4p.m. Don't pity me o! I really don't mind especially as I do not ever have plans to do anything other than to spend the day in worship. This I can always do anywhere. For some years now, I have spent Christmas day and other public holidays at the office seeing as I am considered "essential staff". I get paid overtime so it's cool.

I did not drive to work on Xmas day and was a bit worried as to how I was going to go back home. You see, there were hardly any cabs on the road thanks to the extra looong queues at the petrol stations. You had to see it to believe it. I understand that a lot of people were unable to travel because of the fuel scarcity. Ikorodu road was littered with Area boys and other "business men" selling petrol at black market prices. 4 litres of petrol normally sells for N260 but was being sold for N2000. You buy at your peril as there is no way to tell on the spot if the fuel has not been adulterated with something other substance that may lead to a "knocked engine" or some other more damaging effect.

Then of course, the day after christmas, we were saddened by the news that there had been a pipeline explosion at Abule-Egba somewhere in the outskirts of Lagos. Some vandals had tapped into a pipeline. Others came along with basins, jerrycans and other containers and were scooping and carting away their goods when there was a spark and an explosion followed. At least 260 died. The injured ones did not go to hospital either because they could not afford it or because they wanted to avoid getting arrested on charges of vandalisation. I could do a whole post on what I think about this occurence, but I think not. There's too much to say and I hold a somewhat self-contradictory view that will be hard to express.

All in all, I still saw a lot of children and their parents, weighed down by their festive fineries, going to fast food restaurants and other places. I guess despite it all, some people still managed to have the Christmas of their dreams. After all, we are Nigerians, built with the ability to adjust to anything!

Ho! Ho! Ho!

Learning from my friends

I am a firm believer that there is something to learn from everyone and from every thing. Even from things that we may view as being negative, we learn what-not-to-do. Sometimes these lessons are not new to us but act as a reminder to us of what we should already know.

I have a lot of friends that I have learnt from and inspired by bloggers like Overwhelmed, Uzo and London Buki, I have decided to start a series called LEARNING FROM MY FRIENDS. I have started with my favourite story. The story of Bobo.

Enjoy.

BOBO


Bobo was a fine-boy-no-pimples and had da body to boot. He worked in one of the top Oil companies in Nigeria. I met him when I was attached there. He had exquisite taste in everything. He looked good, dressed well and had the nicest ride in town. Looking from the outside in, he looked like the average guy (no offence intended) that would spend his last dime to look good and basically live from check to check as a result.

Then I got to know him. We became fast friends after his birthday party which I (uncharacteristically, I admit) attended. We hung out several times after that and I quickly to the realization that apart from beauty and brawns (wo, the bobo was fyne!! forgive me if I say it a lot), he also had a brain. How? Well, let’s start with the fact that EVERYTHING he bought was bought under the condition that it would not come directly from his salary. It had to come from one of his various businesses or investments. All said investments were originally funded by his salary. In addition to a state of the art cyber-café (which I heard he got rid of when the cyber café business took a nose dive), he sold gold jewelry (he was a supplier to a few retailers in our little town of in South-South Nigeria). He also bought high quality furniture for people from Italy. From time to time, if the market was right, he would also bring in articles of clothing (that was something that was scarce where we lived and always sold like hot cake). He was also always on the look-out for any business deals that would bring in more money. Any expense he had was taken care of from the proceeds of his investments.

Let me give you an example of how he lived his life. His house was largely unfurnished when I met him. He could easily have bought furniture that he would make do with, but he was not in a hurry to cram his house with things he claimed would not make him unhappy or that he would have to throw away in due course. More expensive in the long run. Whenever he had an order to fill for furniture, he would buy use the profit to buy at least one item, e.g a table, a set of chairs, a sofa and that was how he was slowly and surely filling his house. With classic items that would be relevant at least 6 or more years down the line.

Also, he had the best car amongst his peers. Make no mistake, it was just a Tokunbo (second hand) car (he invested the rest of his car loan). His colleagues tried to counsel him against buying such an expensive car and a few even tried to talk him into buying a cheaper Tokunbo (second hand) car. Bobo stuck to his guns, rocked his car for 2years, had minimal visits to the mechanic garage and when the car started flooding the Nigerian market, sold it at close to the amount he got it for.

He sold the car to one of his colleagues. Ironically, it was one of those that had counseled him against getting such an expensive car. By the way, he took that money and bought an even nicer Toyota. It was so nice that it sparked a rumor that he had been promoted at work and given a car to boot. His plan was to slowly climb his way to a brand new car.

Okay, enough for long story. Here are the morals of the tale:

* Treat your salary like it’s your capital.
* Pay for nothing from your capital
* Invest, invest, invest.
* Put a part of your profit back into investment. Don’t spend it all.
* Buy what you are happy with. It’s cheaper in the long run.

The one about being married

...how can he do that, does he not know that I am a married woman?

I heard these words and allowed them segue in my head for a bit, willing myself to ignore them. I lost. Turning to my colleague, I asked her what the offence was. I had only heard the last few words but I was willing to wager that her indignation stemmed from something trivial.

‘What did he do?”

“He took a sip of my drink from my mug”

You could have knocked me down with a feather. Another battle to ignore this played out in my head. Again, I lost. Stop! I begged myself, but my mouth spoke the words of their own accord.

“So are you saying that as a single girl, it would be less insulting, unhygienic to have a guy sip from my cup?”

She had no answer.

I hear this all the time. “Don’t you know that I am married?’’

I don’t know if you’ve heard, but apparently, there’s a respect that is to come automatically with being married. Once the ring is put on a chic's finger, there is a supposed to be some sign/stamp put on her that says "Hey! treat me with respect because I'm married". Maybe a halo around the head.

Am I less respectable because I am single?

To be truthful, our society is structured in such a way that a married woman is treated with more respect than a single one. A temper trauma by a married woman is explained away as “exertions of having to keep a home” whilst that of a single woman is sneered at and it is usually declared that the woman is frustrated because she is not married or she does not have a man.

Not too long ago, a friend of mine came to me with a bemused expression on her face. Apparently, she had witnessed a heated verbal war of words between two girls and when it appeared that no-one was winning, the married one said “ How dare you talk to me like that, don’t you know that I am married.” And that to Mrs Married was the ultimate rub-your-nose-in-the-dirt, I-have-won-this-battle move.Sheew. That means that women are not exempt from this give-me-respect move.

Recently, another colleague told me of an altercation that was supposed to have occured between her and some other female colleagues in another unit. I only half listened until she said " ...if they look for my trouble, I will give it back to them. After all, they are married and I am married. Yes, ke!"

My reaction to this state of affairs?

"Sorry, I did not see the halo around your head" I will treat everyone the same way.

What a cALAMity

Here's a podcast where Alams was interviewed. Trust me, you want to hear this. The nerve of the man!

Shortsightedness

I was watching the news yesterday when I saw him...He has lost most of his black hair to gray or perhaps he used to dye it and since jail does not exactly support that sort of vanity his true color is showing. He has lost some weight (although that is not immiediately obvious as he's a man of considerable weight- maybe as a consequence of chopping up). His face was not shown at first because he was lying across 4 or so cheap brown plastic seats. The first thing that crossed my mind was " That has to be uncomfortable!' At a point he was helped up from the seats and his face showed that he was under some sort of strain. Several people rushed to him to support him even in his sitting position.

It was Alamieyeseigha, often described now as the embattled former governor of Bayelsa state. The news reported that he was suffering from some cardiovascular disease. According to news reports, on about two occasions he slumped while trying to stand on his feet. He rested his head on the table throughout the period of the proceeding.

I tried to dredge up pity for him in my heart, but found that I could not quite manage it. You see, I had watched a report done on Bayelsa State. It was a story of promises unfulfilled, projects left unfinished, the ill gotten gains of politicians rubbed uncringly in the face of the common man. I was dismayed and thoroughly annoyed to find out that even water was not provided for the common man. Majority of the indigenes in the state do not have runnning water and have to spend at least N200 a day paying for water to be fetched for them. This in a country were the minimum wage is N7,500 a month. You try and do the Math. This was when Mr. A was still in the UK. Next thing you know, he appears and claims that it is a MIRACLE! Apparently he slept in the Uk and woke up in Nigeria. No apologies to his people for what stealing money that could have been used to better their lives.

My thinking on this Mr. A issue is that if he had had the foresight to use some of the billions he stole to build a state of the art hospital in his state, he may be flown there now. Instead, taxpayers money will have to be used to fly him abroad for the operation he needs to save his life. No pity because I asked myself what would happen to the average Bayelsan if he developed this condition. He definitley would not have access to taxpayer's money to foot the bill for his surgery. He may well not even be able to afford to register at a hospital. In fact, his fate would most likely be ...death.

Show me your papers!

If you are anything like me and like to get one over the moronic policemen that stand on the road harrasing innocent car drivers, here's some good news.

It has officially been stated on the police website, here, that these are the

PARTICULARS MOTORISTS NEED TO PRESENT AT POLICE CHECK POINT

Driving License
Insurance Certificate
Certificate of Road Worthiness (Commercial vehicles only)

You Don't need to present

Vehicle purchase documents
Proof ownership (except if the vehicle is unregistered)
Receipt of plate number
ECMR

You can print out several copies of the webpage that has the instructions and leave them in your car, in case the hasslers decide to stop you. It's end of the month now and they will create even more illegal checkpoints in the hope that they can "chop" out of your pay.

NEPA, mind yourself o!

I still call PHCN by its old name- NEPA

Nepa, Nepa, Nepa, your cup runneth over....We had almost constant elecricity in September. So much so that from time to time, my brother and I would actually wish that Nepa would strike and take their light away. You see, we have learned from experience to look a gift horse in the mouth. The normal trend is constant light for a month or two and then close to nothing for the following month or two. For this month of November, we have not had light for 24hrs straight. I pity our generator. I strongly believe that given the sort of work it has been made to do this month, if it had legs, it would scuttle away anytime we come close to turn it on.

And to make matters worse, it is HOT!! I called my friend just yesterday and she answered like she was dying. Alarmed, I asked her what was going on. Her answer: There was no light and she was lying down on her bed dripping with sweat because of the sweltering heat. Have a quick shower then. She had already had 3 and it was just 1 p.m. Put on your generator. It was overworked and was needed more at night. Besides, fuel isn't free.

Nepa, remember NITEL o! I remember when my cousin wanted to get a line. One of the requirements was that she submits a photograph of the house. Imagine!! That is in addition to all the plenty egunje (bribe) that she would have to pay to secure a line. She chased that around for almost a year, invested her time and quite a bit of un-official money but got no line. This was 1999/2000, not so far in the past.

Who remembers that NITEL now when all you have to do is spend 200bucks on a line that starts working immediately and even comes with free call credit. “All national trunks are busy" and waiting 30minutes for a dial tone has been forgotten. Who even remembers that Nitel owns and runs a GSM network? The average Nigerian will tell you that there are 3 GSM networks in Nigeria and not two. Nobody wants to tango with them because they bring bad memories of terrible or non-existent customer service.

A word is enough for the wise. Give us what you are supposed to

. In the words of Beyonce "Don't ever for a moment think you are irreplaceable".

Terrorist at Lagos Airport

Please read this.

PUNCH

I am not sure if I should believe it or its some sort of propaganda. Kindly let me know what you think.

Turning One

My daughter is turning one in a little less than a month.

I started getting THE QUESTION about 6 months ago-"So when is the party?'' For those who know me, I have an aversion to parties, weddings and all such socializing events and things so I decided to prepare their minds right from time. NO PARTY.

The reaction I generally get is disbelief and a loud “eh? No waay o!”

Their reasons for my need to celebrate?

Give thanks to the Lord for His Gift.
I am pretty certain that all the thanks I have given Him everyday for almost a year have been received. My Creator aint baal.

Did your parents not celebrate your first birthday for you?
And by doing so, did I sign a contract that I would definitely do the same for my own child?

This is one of the most important and happiest days of her life.
Granted, that is why we are having cake and ice-cream. Besides, she will have many more important and happiest days in her life to rival this one.

She will need to see pictures when she is growing up.
My family members and I plus any friends that pop by for cake and ice-cream will gather around her and take pictures around the cake.

In fact, there is no reason I can think of why I absolutely MUST throw a party for her. I have taken my daughter to 2 parties and each time, she was uncharacteristically quiet and withdrawn as though could not quite believe the crowd around her. How will she then enjoy this carnival I have been asked to throw for her?

I am more inclined to throwing her a party when she turns 5. At least that way, she will actually get to enjoy her own bouncy castle, train ride and the food that is being served, even the presents that she receives. She will also have her own friends there rather than just the adults that want to eat out of my largesse by chopping and getting their children entertained for free at her first birthday party.

Anyway, this week, perhaps because the pressure had intensified, I asked a friend and colleague whose mother has a catering outfit how much she thinks it would cost to cater to about 50 guests. Her quote seemed rather reasonable so for 30 minutes after our conversation, all those that asked me the "oh so important question" of when the party was going to hold, I told that I was thinking of just doing rice salad, drinks. That just opened a can of worms as they started with:

“Ah, no party is complete without bouncy castle.”
“Train rides, nko?”
“What about party packs? I am going to the market tomorrow. Just give me the contract” …*wink* *wink*…

" Goat meat suya will be great"

So guess what? We are back to cake and ice-cream. Anyone who does not like it can choose a body of water to dive into. Lord knows that Lagos is about 40% water.

Hate your job?

I got this rather disturbing picture by e-mail today. Here's the text of the mail:

ONE SOLID REASON TO THANK GOD FOR YOUR JOB!

INTERCONTINENTAL BANK TEST SOME WEEKS BACK IN IKEJA

I actually saw them that day at Ikeja....... ..I was amazed!!

No, it’s not a political rally, neither is it a Refugee Camp nor did it happen in Rwanda .
It is very much a “Nigerian Thing”.

It's a picture of applicants scrambling to write an Employment Test @ Fototek Plaza, Opebi Ikeja, Lagos. Nigeria .

Police had to disperse the mammoth crowd with teargas!


What more can one say? I was feeling a little tired today when I got to work ( I worked from last week, straight through the weekend to today, Monday). But this perked me right up.

If we have so many people on the street struggling to get legitimate jobs, is it a wonder then that the crime rate is so high? That we are well known for our 419 skills?

We need prayers in this country.

Photo Op

Someone sent this photo to me. Guess what it is!
A plane? A bird?
No, Its a HAIRCUT!

Nyama!

Sex Does Not Equal Love

I had dinner in front of a televison and caught 5 minutes of a Nigerian home video on Africa Magic. I do not know what the title is. It got me thinking.

Scene one:

Village setting. Young girl and young boy strolling though the woods/forest. He is obviously from the city whilst she is from the village. He uses fly words like "baby" and "yeah" walks as though he has great sores under both feet (bouncing) and has a fake American accent.

He says to her “My heart is yours, baby”

She says in a very Igbotic accent “Heart, kwa?”

"Yeah, baby” he replies, looking as sincere as a new born babe.

She looks unsure, he coaxes her some more and the movie cuts to a new scene with young boy adjusting his belt and young girl adjusting her skirt. He thanks her, puts N500.00 in her hand " buy yourself something!" and they both walk away in opposite directions. As soon as she is out of earshot, he whoops and shouts “YES!” He has scored! As he leaves, the watchers know that this boy is either going to disappear forever or show up again when he has an itch he needs scratched. The girl meanwhile, goes off in the other direction and we can almost hear the mechanical whirring of a machine as we imagine her she daydreaming about how she is going to move to Lagos with her new boyfriend, have a society marriage, bear him at least 3 children and come back to show her village mates how she is living it up!


This is something that constantly happens. I last went to my village about 7years ago (much to my shame because I love the place). The first thing I noticed was that a lot of unmarried teenage girls had fallen pregnant. On enquiring on what the heck was going on, I was told that there had been a lot of construction work done and the girls had been in “relationships” with the laborers that had come from out of town. They had been wowed by the worldly men who had traveled around the country doing manual labor for a living. It was cool to be one of the chosen ones as the men had “money” and were so knowledgeable about things beyond their scope.

Even in the “city”, we have our young ‘uns and even older ones being wowed by the sophisticated and debonair attitude of guys and on that basis of alone, enter "relationships" with them. The outcome is hardly never good.

I am not saying that there are no other reasons why “relationships” go wrong. I am just saying that if we could adopt the "Not everything that Glitters is Gold attitude" we may save ourselves a lot of trouble.

Like a fellow blogger said in a letter to her young self, " Sex does not equal love".

I'll talk about scene two later!

On the safe side

I went for a mammogram today. I should be getting the results tomorrow. It's a really simple procedure and not in the least bit painful. It just might save your life so don't procrastinate!


You can fund mammograms for underprivileged women by clicking here. Just click. It's free and you may just be making a great difference in someone's life.

Stay safe!

Gated Music Festival

I was not at the LARGEST SHOW IN NIGERIA, but a friend of mine was and she took some pictures.

The ones I want to share are those of a rather disturbing gate that was used to demarcate those that had paid the premium ticket price of 100,000Naira from those that paid 30,000Naira to see the show for the two days it ran. The first picture is a close up of the "cage" whilst the second one shows properly the distance from the gate to where the premium payers were seated.

Through the gate, you can see the stage and also the big screen TV behind.

I had to re-work the 2nd picture to cut out the girl leaning on the gate (She's publicity shy). I just want y'all to see the distance to the stage.

When I saw these pictures, I was rather dismayed and thought to myself that this is just typical of Nigerians. Our need to prove that we are different from the masses just keeps finding new ways to humiliate those that have less than we do. Nouveau riche attitude really, something garish about it.

Well, trust my naija people, they eventually found their way into the VIP area on both days.

All that said sha, they obviously had FUN!!

Shine on!

Sometimes, you come across words that are deep and profound and have you nodding violently. They may be words that act as a reminder to you of what you should be. I watched Coach Carter some days ago, heard this recitation and was nodding so violently, my head almost fell off.

Anyways, here it is. Hope it touches you as much as it touched me.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
....Marianne Williamson

Driving In Lagos: A GUIDE

I got this funny mail (yes, it was a forward) and thought I should share. Its an interesting read and a guide of some sort to drivers on Lagos roads. Also, here is a write-up on public transportation in Lagos.

Lagos is often acclaimed as the most exciting city in Nigeria in which to drive. Who would argue? For those of you who think that driving inEngland is stressful, herewith, for newcomers and visitors, here are a few basic rules of the road for driving in Las Gidi:

First of all, know which battalion to which you belong. There is an unending and vicious road war in Lagos.

In the first battalion, are motorcyclists popularly called Okada.They have a pact with suicide - avoid them at all costs.

In the second battalion are commercial bus drivers. Their buses areknown by various names including -Danfo, Molue (literally means "I go beat you"),Bolekaja (means "Come down, make we fight),Kabu-kabu, etc.As these names imply, they are not the smartest specie onthe face of the planet. Avoid them.

In the third battalion are the "guys of the siren" escortriders, bullion vans, trailers, etc. They have immunity against death.Besides, they get a medal for every scratch, and a certificate of bravery for every bash.

In the fourth battalion are private guys like me. All we have at our disposal are big talk and empty threats - we have no rights. Sometimes we employ what is called "Ogboju"(bravado) to get by.

Further rules:

- Danfo drivers believe they are immortal. Don't yield to the temptation to teach them otherwise.

- Get used to "Okada" drivers saying things like:"Commot that scrap for road", "Mr. I go drive myself". It is normal, just ignore them.

- The first parking space you see will be the last parking space yousee. Grab it.

- Learn to swerve abruptly. In Lagos, potholes (and sometimes car-holes) are put in key locations to test drivers' reflexes and keep them on their toes.

- There is no such thing as "one-way" in Lagos. Expect traffic from any direction at all times.

- Never get in the way of a car that needs extensive bodywork.

- It is traditional in Lagos to honk your horn at cars that don't move the instant their bumpers are not touching the next car.

- When asking for directions, always ask at least 3 people. Lagosians claim to know every inch of the city - even newcomers.

- Never use directional signals, since they only confound and distract other Lagos drivers, who are not used to them.

- Similarly, never attempt to give hand signals. Lagos drivers,unused to such courtesies, will think you are making obscene gestures to them. This could be very bad for you in Lagos.

- Hazard lights (popularly called "double pointer") is not, (as commonly supposed) used to indicate a hazard. It is a warning to you that he is a bonafide Lagos driver, and as such, will not stop under any circumstance.Take him extremely seriously especially if he backs it up with a continuous blast from his "horn".

- At any given time , do not stand on the zebra crossing expecting traffic to yield to you, else you will have to explain to the oncoming traffic that you look like a zebra.

- Speed limits are arbitrary figures posted only to make you feel guilty.

-Remember that the goal of every driver is to get there first by whatever means necessary.

- Above all, keep moving.

Clean up your act!

British Council in Lagos, na wa for una o!! In case you don't know which one I am talking about, its at Thompson in Ikoyi. I have had to go to the council quite frequently in the recent past as my M.Sc exams hold there. On the first day I went (sometime in April), I wrote my exam and left. No drama. Day 2, I was with a classmate so after the exam I decided to wait for him in the reception area. Nature called, so I asked the only customer care staff on duty to direct me to the bathroom to ease my self.

Me: Hi! I would like to ease myself. Can you please direct me to the ladies?
She: (Long Pause as she looks at me up and down, up and down)
Me: (Slightly amused)
She: (Deigning to speak to me) Why did you come to the British council?
Me: I beg your pardon?
She: What did you come to the British council for?
Me: (Slightly upset at this point) I came to write an exam.
She: O.k, its down the hall to your right.

I went off thinking that "this has got to be a joke".

After doing my business, I went back to her and asked her why she had to look at me that way and then ask me that question before she could point me to the right direction. She then went on about the way people just come in for the sole purpose of using the loo and then messing it up and leaving. How they (customer care personnel) get into trouble with management as a result.

Me, I kept quiet and listened, thinking about the procedure for entry into the compound. First of all, a guard standing outside has to ask one sitting inside to "Open gate 1". You come into a cage of sorts and you are screened/wanded. Then your bag is thoroughly searched by a second guard, you are given a tag, asked to sign in and only then will the guard say "Open gate 2!" to let you into the premises.

As madam attitude spoke, I thought to myself, yeah, right!!! People go through that just to take a leak! She then went on to say, "O! I hope I did not embarrass you". I assured her in a quiet voice that she did not, but that I was suprised and midly upset at her rudeness and that there would have been a better way of handling the situation even if I had lied my way in to take a leak. Having said my piece, I walked away.

Fast forward to August 23rd. I had another exam to write and since you are asked to call at least 3 days ahead to confirm, I did just that and asked for the contact person on my letter. The lady that picked up the phone told me that he was on a lunch break. Fine. I asked to pass on a message about my confirmation for the exam. she agreed to and then I asked her when he would be back so that I could call back. Next thing, I can't hear a thing, just background noise. I kept saying "Hello", no reply. I passed the phone to a friend who was next to me and she said that she could hear people talking in the background. apparently madam was done with the call and just took off. Mistake? I don't know, but it was not nice. Especially as I was calling from my GSM phone. That's premium rate for a landline call. Not funny

August 25th: I land there for my exam and the guy at the desk is on the phone. I stand in front of him waiting to be granted audience. I realise about 10 seconds into the call that its a personal one. He's going on in his local dialect which I understand. He was nice enough to motion to me to give him sometime. 1 minute... 2 minutes...3 minutes...I was rescued by the invigilator who had come looking for me. My guy was still on the phone as I walked away. Hmmm.

Less than a week later, I was back and my chic from the first episode was there. A man who had a form to fill was right in front of me and asked if he could use her pen. In a rather brusque manner she said " No, you can't, because I am going to use it soon". I cringed visibly and without saying a word started rifling in my bag for a pen for the bobo. After that, I went for my exam.

I have to say that I am sorely disappointed in their behaviour. It costs absolutely nothing to be courteous. Like I pointed out to my sister when I told her about it, the very reason why these people are employed is so as to deal with enquiries and assist customers. If there were no customers, there would be no work for them and hence no salary. I pay £65 for each exam and I believe that if you can not be courteous naturally, then you should be because my money pays for it. I was actually going to complain to "management" the following day, but ended up not going.

Celebrating disasters

I will not take a single thing away from the way people feel about the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. Indeed that day and those that followed have been marked indelibly in our minds.

My quarrel with this date has to do with Nigerians. We remember to celebrate other people’s tragedies and make a lot of noise about it, but I do not recall anyone every saying anything about the carnage that took place in our very own Lagos, Nigeria on the 27th of January 2002.
To read a brief account of what happened that day, please read here and here. Pictures are available here. My own account is that I was home when the ground started shaking…tremors? an earthquake? Planes throwing down bombs? We had absolutely no idea what was going on. Bear in mind that I live at least 20 minutes drive away from where this was occurring and yet, we could feel a lot of what was going on. My mom was already reaching for the bags of salt that she keeps in case of war times (a throwback from her experience in the Biafran war).

We closely monitored the news channels for any clue as to what was going on. Finally, Channels TV came through and explained that for an unknown reason, high grade munitions and explosives stored at the army cantonment in Ikeja had somehow started exploding. I am not sure the root cause was ever communicated.

Obasanjo who happened to be in Lagos at the time, turned up and in the face of an angry mob demanding answers, said something along the lines of " You should be lucky that I am even here". Yes siree! Your charisma was really came shining through and you showed how much of a people's person you are. (in case you missed it, this was dripping with sacarsm)

At least 3,000 people were displaced or died. Loads of people drowned in a canal at Isolo. A situation that occured because of the lack of knowledge about what was going on. People just wanted to escape and ended up drowning instead. A lot of them were children.

Till date, children are missing. Families are hopping from house to house seeking shelter as they attempt to rebuild their lives. Families are no longer whole. They have been ripped apart and have had no chance of being put together again. They cannot even end up in therapy. Our society simply does not condone such tomfoolery. And you can trust that the displaced people have not all received compensation. Those that received something got a pittance. The saddest thing is that no visible lessons have been learnt. Till date, Lagos lacks any sort of emergency response to disasters.

So, my people, that is the story of how our very own Lagos scattered not long after Sept. 11. Not even in Lagos is it really mentioned. Certainly I have never read any blog that remembered this day.

Why did I go through all this trouble? To raise awareness and also so that we can "celebrate" our own tragedies as well. This is important so that lessons can be learned from the disaster and mitigating factors put in place to avoid re-occurence. If no-one is talking about it, the government and other bodies that are involved will feel no pressure to ensure that it does not occur again. I am sure no-one wants a situation where there will be no Nigeria to come back to.

Sister speak

For those of us that love magazines, this is a Nigerian webgazine that appears to have some promise. Nice presentation and all. Enjoy!

Yanga na pain o!...just rambling

"There are no ugly women, only lazy ones." -Helena Rubenstein

It rained this morning. Actually, no. It rained all the way from last night till this morning. A constant flow that it didn't let up for a second. I was worried about the floods that would surely come about and how they would affect my ability to get to work, so bright and early (earlier than usual) this morning I left my house so that I could beat the mad rush for a cab. I was wearing my black heels which are fast becoming my knock-about. I love them because they give easy glamour to whatever I am wearing. I walked to the major road in search of a cab, stood for a few minutes but there were absolutely no cabs so I decided to walk down the road, a bus-stop away. Chei, mistake... The shoes chose just that time to show me pepper. Every step was pain.

I hobbled and hobbled for over 10 minutes. I can usually make the trip in 5 minutes, but I had to count every step. Lookers-on would have seen a girl walking elegantly (heels tend to do that for you). It was excruciating though. I saw an okada pass by and actually allowed myself to contemplate it then shrugged off the thought as quickly as it came. Abeg, life isn't that bad. Not that i have never ridden on bikes o! When I lived in Eket there was no other means of transport. But I digress.

Anyways, I started thinking about the pain and work that goes hand in hand with looking even passably good. I had gone to the salon last week to do my hair. Normally I have braids on because I can not afford the hours it takes to groom my hair to every week. Anyways, there was this chic there. I came in as she had fixed false nails on her hands and toes. She then had her hair done and at the time I was leaving, she was having false eyelashes attached. Lots of work, but man, she looked beautiful. I had to compliment her on my way out. She probably does that every week-spending a minimum of 4 hours at the salon. Then probably go gyming to maintain her figure. Eat only protein for weeks to stay slim. Wax to get rid of unwanted hair. Spend unmentionable sums of money on clothes. And at the end of the day, some one will say: She's effortlessly beautiful. Hmmm. Or even worse some guy will ask her why she does not more of an effort. Double hmmm.

This post is fast not becoming what I had in my mind, so I'll stop. See y'all.

Music, Food for the Soul

For a long time now, I stopped listening to music at work. You know, the sort of I-have-earphones-in-my-ears-leave-me-alone listening. Well, I did it today and man, what a buzz! Music is really food for the soul. I was so productive!! I sorted out all my outstanding projects, a policy I had written and basically sat on for 2 months got whisked out of my drawer and worked on, all you-have-to-think-and-type-related things were finished and I was just there twiddling my thumbs looking for more work that would keep me on my seat and listening to the songs and perpertuating the high I was getting from it.

I have always loved music and even have an eclectic taste in the thingy,. I listen to classical, rock, r&b, hip-hop, pop, new age...name it I am there. However, I have found myself giving excuses about listening to music. No time. No light/power. I have to read. I need to concentrate. No more. This is too good not to do!

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Politics

38 Governorship Aspirants Apply for Police Protection.

This was the headline for a daily newspaper today. I really don't want to discuss politics on my blog, so I will just leave it at this.

through his eyes

I came upon this site recently. I love the pictures because I was able to see Lagos through the eyes of a stranger. I mean the picture of a street with the no park sign right in an obviously non-parking zone was one I have passed a lot of times and never noticed.

Most of the photos were taken in Victoria Island, which is fast becoming more and more of a business area and less of a residential one.

Well, enough talk.

Enjoy!!

No posts

I haven't fashied my blog o! I have been on leave and my connection at home is questionable at best. Since I don't do cyber-cafes...too many people minding your business with you... I have decided to wait until I get back to work next week.

See you then!!

DRIVE-BY SHOOTING

I was being driven past this INEC office and I thought that I would just take a shot. They must be gearing up for next year's elections.

ARE YOU A NIGGER?

Surely you have heard the one about the unemployed Nigerian graduate who goes out one day in search of a job. He’s listening to his Japanese made radio and checking out the time on his Swiss made watch and hops into his German made car. This is only after he had donned his TM Lewin Jand sewn shirt and his Italian leather shoes.

He roams the streets of Lagos, gets nothing and is frustrated at the economic state of Nigeria!

My sister bought this book,Capitalist Nigger, recently, and she has been raving about it. Thought you might like to have a look. It’s supposed to be a really great book for those that are interested in ushering in a new economic dawn.
Those who need to have a financial epiphany or like me are really just not as into Nigerian stuff as we should be can also apply. Lastly, since there has been some talk about finances in so many blogs here and here, I thought I should chip in my own bit.

I wish I could tell you more about it, but I can’t as I am busy reading for my exams. However, just a few pages in, I was ready to declare that I am a Nigger.


P.S: If you did not understand the story above, then you definitely need this book. You can listen to the author’s radio interview here. Alternatively, you can just read the transcript of the interview.

Angst

NOTE: I am not rich, I am not from a rich home and I did not write this becasue I think that I am better than others. I just need to voice out my frustrations. These have grown in the months since I have become a mother and I am filled with, you guessed it...angst!


I am sick of all the poverty around. Snot faced kids, begging for a buck, cleaning windscreens like their life depends on it. I look at their faces and try to imagine them in a different situation. With parents that have money. Primary school education at Corona or Grange, clean clothes, less despair in their lives and in their eyes. A warm nice bed to sleep on. If only they were that, people would not cringe when they come near. I see some of these children in the rain, begging so that their mothers, fathers and siblings will have a meal. (yes, sometimes, if you look around you'll spy their parents somewhere around).

I fear for the girls the most. They lead the blind and sometimes push the lame. I wonder what other services they are made to render. I am not thinking in extremes, I understand that a lot of the men they help around have their "wicked" way with them. Girls that don't even have an inkling what puberty is because their bodies are still years away from that particular development.

Some times I feel like screaming: Lord, why do some have nothing at all? I would love to make a difference, touch lives. No matter what I do, it seems so inadequate as though I am just tossing drops of water in a bottomless bucket in a bid to fill it up. I'm not rich or anything, but I make enough.

I have a hard time collecting clothes for the needy because people are afraid that they will get jazzed by ne'er do gooders. So I have fashied and I just do my thing myself. I give my old clothes to refugees; send my baby's clothes to motherless babies, give money to beggars when I can. Yet, it seems I have done nothing. I look at pictures like these and I am saddened. I know they are far away, but I know that if I dedicate myself, I can still reach them. I know because if someone tells me that a million pounds awaits me under a malnourished baby’s crib in Niger, I will get there (hell, I will get there if its just £2,000).

The difference in standards of living in Lagos is so great, that the poor hardly get to cross the gulf. I read this story and was filled with wonder, I had never seen things that way before. Figures, as I am neither a brie eating chic nor am I a beggar on the street. I am just plain middle class. For the record, I have nothing against people spending their hard earned money the way they want, Lord knows I do. I read Gbemi's story on the Motherless baby's home and my heart sunk to my feet. I visualised that boy hitting his head continuallly on his crib, yeeech!! My friend went to a motherless baby home and saw a baby that had been found in a gutter. Apparently, she was a few hours old when her mother threw her in there. Before she was rescued, maggots had started eating her body. Her little body tells the story. Her skin looks really pockmarked. Just 2 months old, she will grow up with the tell-tale marks of her parent's abandonment. In fact, I was made to understand that visitors generally do not like to touch her, as they find her repulsive.

Enough ramblings, what to do? what to do? Any ideas?

I RISE!!

I saw the movie “something new” on Friday night and I was going to blog about how I loved it…the heroine who was black fell in love with a white man. She ran away from it for a long time because it wasn’t cool and showed that she was not “down”. Like she said in the movie, “Its not prejudice, it’s just a preference”. In the end, she shook off what society said and walked into the cotillion ballroom (akin to walking off into the sunset) with her man. Awwww…

Well, the post about how pleasant and nice the movie was has turned into a post about how I get nothing but prejudice. I get it at work, on the street and especially when I have to deal with artisans, junior staff and my fellow sisters.

I had to go to work on saturday and an issue involving the drivers was brought to my notice. True, I am not exactly their contact person, but since the issue was reported to me, I had to handle it.

I left my desk to seek out the driver in question. Made sure I heard him out, played out the empathy bit and then pleaded with him to continue to perform the particular function he was to perform until Monday comes…a week day which will bring with it official e-mails that will either relieve him of this duty he so badly did not want to do or ensure that he carries it out to the tiniest detail.

He agreed and asked me to call some one else who his company actually liaises with to talk to him and confirm that he should continue carrying out the function. “O.k”., said I, “I will get X to call you and confirm” With that, I left on what I thought was a good note. About 30minutes later, I go outside when he is supposed to leave the office. His fellow drivers are there, and he has started being stubborn about it again. In fact he even raises his voice when I approach him. Said that there was no way he was going to perfornm the task we had alread agreed on.I ask if X has called him. No. I call X to remind him and a few seconds the driver’s phone rings and he starts talking to “Oga X”. Oga??? Oga X and I happen to be on the very same level in the office. Hell, we were even in the same university together and matriculated and graduated in the same respective years. I say nothing. After speaking to “Oga” X, he turns to me and says that he will do as he was told. That’s when I got upset. And asked him if what X asked him to do was different from what I asked him to do. Of course he could not answer. And this is what I have to deal with a lot of times. Normally, I would just let it slide because I feel that drawing attention to it just makes it worse but I was so pissed off!

This might not seem like much of a case, so let me take you down my memory lane. I started noticing this sort of behavior when I moved to Port-Harcourt to work. I spent about 8 months there and I was self-conscious half the time. I had a really nice car to drive down there and I somehow tuned in to the fact that a lot of people tend to look at your wedding finger when you are driving. Hmmm, I thought it was just my imagination the first few times I noticed it. My doubt cleared when it was constantly repeated, especially when I was driving that car. I mean, for a young girl like me to drive that sort of car, a man had to have settled me big time for services rendered. And they did not stop there, a few times I had to drive into the university and the security guards would regard me with derision. Not that I am even a funky dresser. They jut feel threatened when they see a relatively young girl rolling in what they perceive to be a ride that is too nice. And this was a tokunbo!

When my husband-who-never-was (story for never) and I were setting up house, the work-men that came to fix up the place were so guilty of this behavior. Whenever I ask them to ask about something or I am talking to them, they would turn to him to either reply (hello, I thought I was the one that spoke to you) or even seek his approval to carry out my instructions. this happened so may times that I had to draw his attention to it. He thought I was imagining things until he took time out to actually notice these things. Haba!! Or was it at the beginning when we were looking for a place for him to move into? The estate agent showed ME the kitchen and said that since that would be my ???office??? I should be the one to look at it. That would have been really nice and courteous behavior if it had been that I was moving into the house or the man was not so ernest about it. And he knew that the house was for the bobo only o!

One of my future posts will be on how a LASTMA official did the obirin ni thing. Silly people driving me crazy.

Sad thing is that I get this from women as well. I had a neighbor in P/H who had 2 kids under the age of 3. Her philandering husband left one day on the pretext of traveling to a nearby town to collect on a cheque. Claiming it would be faster there. I mean this is the sort of guy who probably used the age old excuse of the dog ate my homework. She KNEW where he really went, especially as he was a no show that night. She even told me as much. And imagine, he left her about N100 and almost no food in the house. This was a man who worked in a company that people aspire to. And it was not his first time. Few days later she was talking to me about a woman that lived in the same neighborhood and said to me that she was a really difficult woman and that it was clear she was frustrated because “she isn’t married”. How I kept the laughter that was bubbling under the surface back, I don’t know. I mean, if they ask married women to stand up and form a queue, this girl would hustle her way to the front. This was her general view of unmarried women…and she was not alone at all. Loads of girls (married and unmarried do this).

A friend told me that she a girl in her class was rumored to have gotten married and she (my friend) immediately started viewing the girl with new found respect. In her words “it was as though a halo appeared around the girl's head”. I laughed long and hard at that. Then she went on to say that she had later learned that the rumor was spurious. In her words again “the halo immediately disappeared, scheeew(loud and long hiss) ” My friend is still currently unmarried. And she is not a bad person at all. Just someone that has let societal pressure get to her.

I refuse, I refuse, I refuse to feel like less of a person because I am female and /or unmarried. Why? because, I rise!!

On the move again

I have always had a Vmobile line. I was with them when they were called ECONET. I passed through the worst sort of ribbing when they changed their name twice in quick succession. My friend would call me the girl that had the Econet, erm…vodacom…oops Vmobile line and ask me why I did not leave the confused network. Why? Because I love their service: especially their customer service.

Well, I have to don my armor to bounce off all the ribbing I am going to get again because they are about to become known as CELTEL. Yep, I am going to get it again!!
Signed

The girl with an Econet, erm…vodacom…oops Vmobile…no, Celtel line.
A.k.a the girl with a phone line formerly known as Econet.

Light hunting

For the purpose of this mail permit me to refer to "power" or “electricity” as light". That is what I am used to.

You've probably heard the jokes:

There was a neighborhood which had not had light for 4 years. Somehow, the god of NEPA smiled at them, men came in a van, tinkered with the wires and hey pronto!!- the light came on. Children that had been born in the last 4 years and had never seen a bulb come on, much less a television ran and hid in fright, crying that "ojuju" (masquerade) had come.


So I was on my way back home from work yesterday. A colleague was seated in the vehicle next to me. As we approached the area, we both automatically started doing something that a lot of people in Lagos and I imagine other parts of Nigeria do. It’s called "light hunting". For those that are not privy to this rather interesting and subtle sport let me explain the aim of the game:

* To tell from 5 or more streets away from home if NEPA (now known as PHCN) has provided you with light (electricity).

There are rules to this game. The highly skilled in this game can

* tell you the houses that have their light bulbs on night and day. These are most prized.

* tell you which ones have recently bought generators and as such are not eligible to be used as criteria to judge as to whether there is light.

Anyways so I was on my way home and just as we turned a corner, I started to say "there's..." and he said "...light!" We looked at each other and smiled. The smile of "ah, so you too even sabi!" Apparently, the guy even sabi more than me. He said “thank goodness, I will go and iron my clothes because we are off tomorrow.” Off? I asked what he meant. Apparently, there is some sort of load shedding going on on his street where they have light for 3days on, one day off. On the day off, there will never be light. At the same time, on the “on” days, there might not be light for a few hours. Not surprising.

What started this post? We just received our NEPA bill and surprise! Surprise!! It was less than N1,000. In a house were the light bulbs are constantly blazing and were we have an assortments electronic implements to make life just a bit easier? Hmmm. goes to show you how often we have had light in the last month.

Now I got to go. Typing this post is exacerbating my headache. That’s because I am in the middle of appraising some people at work and I thought that this would relax me. It didn’t. Back to the grind.

The deadline for submission is soon. I will write more after it’s over.

Its Over!!

Its over, its over thank goodness it over.... Now maybe life can go back to normal until the next big foot ball tournament.

Hips don't lie

I have added another entry to my C.V. Up until yesterday, I was a single mum, full-time worker, part-time masters student (no, not UNILAG or LASU- I don't believe in pissing my money off getting a Nigerian Masters, story for another day), part time omo-odo / housegirl because we do not have one, full-time friend to Miss A (that is a valid entry believe me). O.k., I think that's it.

Now, I have added Cuban salsa dancer to the list. Cuban salsa, Cuban salsa, Cuban salsa...I love the way it rolls off my tongue. It sounds so exotic. I started my classes yesterday. Why? Because, sadly, I do not have rhythm. Or so my siblings claim. They say that if a gun was held to my head and someone said “dance or die!” they would have to arrange for a burial. *fume*

So, for 15hrs this month, I am going to be learning the skills that will wow my cynical siblings and perhaps the world. Look out shakira!! I will soon be launching HIPS DON”T LIE Part two in no time. Don’t worry, I will still remember you all when my dancing brings me fame and glory.

And no, my tutor does not look that hot.

A tire, the rim and a wheel cover.

I had an accident yesterday.
I was on the third mainland bridge, going from Victoria Island to the Adekunle exit that leads to Ebute-Metta. My daughter was in the back in her car seat so of course I was doing je-je on the road. I was just going btw 80-100 km/h and the next thing I saw, a second too late, was a hole on the road. I hit it with a bit of force and heard a big thwack! I was like, “what the heck?”...Next thing I know, the car is wobbling a bit and I realize that I have a flat tire. I tried slowing down, no way. It was going wobble wobble wobble in the meanest of way so I just put it in park. It finally shuddered to a stop.

I could not even really get off the road properly. I was on the slow lane yeah, but anyone that knows 3rd mainland can attest to the fact that there are no slow lanes. At this point, my heart was thumping. It was 6.00p.m and I was alone with my daughter on this dangerous bridge...eek! Talk about being a sitting duck!! I got down and ran to the passenger side to see assess the damage. I just glanced at it and ran back in (I was wearing 3” heels and did not feel good about standing there with that ferocious wind whipping around me). Have I ever mentioned that I have a bad case of vertigo? I hate heights with a passion. I always have this sensation that I am about to fall. And then I feel uncomfortable around large bodies of water. If there is a deep bowl of water, it’s almost impossible to get me to dip my hand in it. I was more or less facing the ocean and I was on this bridge that was vibrating at a constant frequency. Men, I felt like vomiting. My heart was still thumping. Luckily my phone battery hadn’t given out (my charger has issues) so I called my classmate (I was just coming from his Hotel). I figured that if I called my dad, it would take him a lot longer to get there. Besides, the man is pushing 70. The last thing he needs is coming to change my tire. No, there’s absolutely no-one else in my house that can do it. No brothers around and the me-guard hurt his hand recently. My classmate said he was coming so I just sat there.

Then my daughter started crying because she was tired of being in her car seat. I had to let her out and she came and crawled all over the front. I kept all my windows locked and the a/c on so that she would be comfortable and had made up my mind that absolutely nothing short of death was going to get me out of that car. My classmate called and said that he was at Falomo Bridge. “Hurry!” I thought desperately. Just then, a boy walking on the road started gesturing and asking me a question that I did not hear. I was not even interested as I was scared of him turning out to be an area boy who viewed me as his weekend meal ticket. The guy was stocky and well built (you won’t blame me). He walked off without looking back.

I was still there O!! It was SCARY because I just had my hazard lights on and no caution lights. Like I said I was not going to get down from the car. I just sat there praying that a speeding car did not come and ram into me, pushing me into the water. Luckily the barriers were there sha. There was a guy in a sky blue Camry who slowed down and then took off again. (If you are reading this, I am not angry; it’s the condition of the world that does not give us an enabling environment to be good Samaritans. I would do the exact same thing to you and not out of any malice.)

Then a cab stopped ahead of me and started reversing. “Maybe he thinks I will leave the car and go with him”. I thought. “Not a chance!” He alighted and came round to the passenger side. He looked like a kindly old man so I wound down the window.

“What is the problem” he said. I told him and he asked me if I had a spare tire. “Yes.” Okay, open the boot. I did, hoping that he would not be a monster that would steal my tools & spare tire and run. (I still would not have come out). He took what he needed, went back to get a tool that I was missing, jacked the car up, changed the tire, replaced my tools, put the bad tire in the boot and then came to tell me he was done and that I could drive off. All this time, I was still in my safe place. I wound down again, thanked him profusely. Told him that The Lord would bless him and gave him a little money which he accepted but DID NOT ask for. There are still good people in the world who are not afraid to put themselves at risk to help a fellow human being. For all he knew, it was a trap.

I then started on the journey home, less a wheel cover. Shaking but very grateful to God for sending me help and for answering my prayer.

On a final note, I would like to call on the government to please! please!! please!!! Fix the road. As much as it sounds like a plea, it is actually my right to have the road fixed. I have paid my taxes duly. You even tax my bonuses and overtime pay!! Is it too much for me to ask not to pay for repairs that wouldn’t have come about if you had done your work? If my baby and I had died, my blood would have been on your head and hands… Take that to bed with you (if you can be moved). There are holes all over that bridge.

5 things I am grateful for

• My girl and I are alive and well to tell the tale.
• I was not pushed off the bridge.
• I had my faith in mankind challenged.
• I have money for the tire repairs, purchase of a new rim and wheel cover (thank you for that surprise bonus at work).
• Ich bin nicht allein
  
  
  
  

My 2nd Welcome message

I have finally been seduced into starting my own blog. After months of reading those that belonged to others, it made sense to start my own. If there are other blog surfers like me, then I should be able to get quite an audience.

As a blog surfer, I have noticed that a lot of 9ja bloggers live abroad. I am firmly in Lagos and have no immediate plan of leaving so I will be giving nostalgic stories about what is going on here in Lagos. Living here gives one an array of ready topics to discuss. You know, now!

If I do not submit anything for a few days, forgive me because that will largely be the fault of PHCN/NEPA for not providing me with the requisite power for my laptop.

If my writing is not coherent, it will be because I drove on pot-holed roads and this disturbed my equilibrium to such an extent that it affected my thinking and consequently my writing.

Typos? Blame that on the fact that water has not run for days and I am trembling from having carried so many buckets of water.

If I seem hurried…, alright, I will stop here and just stop being the typical Nigerian that blames everything on the government and everyone else but myself.

Get me right, I do blame the government for a lot that goes on, but I am also smart enough to realize that somehow, I am also to blame. How? I am a Nigerian that is why. Well, for one thing, I would probably cheat the government in a second I given the opportunity. I don’t mean anything terrible, just withhold my taxes or some’n. Although thinking about it rationally, that may well be because I do not believe that my tax is treated with the respect it deserves.

O.k, so much for a welcome message. It started being about something and then I just branched out and suddenly branched out and became about something else. Just typing as I think. See y’all later.

My 1st Meme

My 1st Meme

I have discovered memes. They are a great and easy way to get to know people. You can tell a lot about a person by reading between the lines and also by seeing what a person's views are.

This one asks that you stipulate your favourite:

1. person: My daughter, Miss B. Followed closely by my mother. (I just had to be an oliver twist with this one, can't give just one answer)
2. movie: Splash ( Tom Hanks and Daryl Hannah), because it was about love. I have always figured that love had to be unconditional. Theirs was.
3. book : Really cannot say. I READ!! I mean what category? I have one for any you want to mention.
4. pastime: Reading
5. season: Harmattan or rain is all we've got. I will swing with the former despite the cracked lips.
6. tv show: I don't do TV anymore. I have too much taking up my time and some things had to go.
7. color: Blue, blue, glorious blue!
8. item of clothing: My green A-line corduroy skirt. I always feel feminine when I wear it.
9. childhood memory: Christmas
10. food: don't have any, just make sure the food is well cooked.

Welcome

I have had the funniest experiences in my life in buses. Yes, the ubiquitous yellow and black buses that are positively a nightmare for anyone who has a nice car, a jalopy, come to think of it even for the very passengers and pedestrians.

I went to school at LASU and this was an hour bus ride from my house and 2 hours back. For the whole of my 1st year, I had 7 o’clock lectures every week day and so I formed the habit of waking up early and getting out by 6 a.m. In the beginning, it was an adventure because prior to that time, I had never had cause to go so far on my own. My world rotated around my home and once a week, I went with my parents to worship about 40 minutes away from the house.

I will be speaking about my adventures in the yellow and black buses shortly, because so much stuff goes on in there that really should be documented.I was thinking about a TV series at some time, but that was just a thought, not one that I could be bothered with trying to execute. Also, spending 3 hours a day for 5 days every week for about 3 years ( I got dropped off when they saw that my suffering had become plenty) has to be talked about.

Well, welcome to my site, this is my first post and as I am a newbie at this, please give me a few days to take off properly!