Valentine's Day

For the past five years, I have celebrated Valentine's day in a variety of ways, and looking back now, it's almost amusing. In 2007, I wrote an article posted in school, condemning the frivolity of the occasion partially because, I was in a pseudo-zealous mood then, all burning with 'the Fire' and uhm, also because I didn't know what to buy for my girlfriend..(Yes! I admit it now, was a kid then, sue me).
2008's Valentine's day, was blurry. The morning started with me going to class like every normal day. Everybody was in shades of red; I wore blue jeans and a black shirt. I was completely oblivious of the celebration. Somehow, the very knowledge that it was Feb 14 had escaped my mind, and like some Ogre or Grinch, I forgot the day of love. Ironically though, I got gifts from a couple of friends, something that wasn't to happen again for a really long time.
In 2009, it was different, I remembered well ahead of time; I actually organized a Christian Youth program to celebrate the occasion. It was a rainy day, and attendance wasn't really in the hundreds, but after the show, I remember walking home and thinking it was a success. Then, I called my girlfriend(a different one). Suffice to say, I got no gifts that day, not even a kiss or a peck, but then again..*shrugs*
In 2010, a good year, Valentine's day was very simple, and plenty fun. Yours truly was in the after-effects of a nasty break-up, and you can say, I was antagonistic of the very notion of love. In fact if Cupid had dared show his face around me, it would have been a gory sight: blood-spattered burnt wings(extra crispy), naked disemboweled babies, bloody smiling heads on a pike (with the halo stil intact, an arrow piercing through the ears) and so on. Such was my anger. Anyway, I went on a drinking binge with friends(not all male, in fact most were female), and we had some adventures. Till this day, we still remember that night when we sit and tell stories. The experiences drew us closer I guess.*wipes eyes*
In 2011, one of my most memorable years, Valentine's day was different, to say the least. Then, I was working as an IT student in a Brewery(do not ask). As you can imagine, there was going to be a party after work, right there, in the Brewery. So, I got ready, I had nobody to share the day with so I might as well, sit around with co-workers and swig illicit beer. Then, I got a call: would I be available to talk to a couple of teenagers on the issue of Valentine? It was like wafting a sausage under the nose of a mad dog. If there is one thing I love almost as much as writing, it is talking in front of people, "Oh the bliss..". So I accepted, and while the beer was being swigged at work, I was talking to kids. (P.S: never before had my pedophilic urges been so tested, but more on that another day).
This year, 2012, Valentine's day started out boring. I was alone at home, watching cheesy romance movies and flipping through annoying love songs. There I was, curled up on a sofa hugging a pink pillow and watching Richard Gere promise everlasting love, certain that I had reached the lowest of lows, when I received a text. It was from my Pastor, he invited me to a Valentine's day service in church. I have never been so enthusiastic to go to church. It was a sort of dinner, and as I went home, tummy full of 'church food' swimming around in gas and communion wine, I was almost bent double from the effort of keeping my tummy in. It is a miracle I didn't throw up somewhere. The service had been fun, the people more so, now perhaps, it was time to sleep. Then I got home and there was a dinner table set out in the middle of the compound, right there in semi-darkness, muted lights wafting down through the tree branches; dinner for five. There was some food and there was wine. They had been waiting for me, Mum, Ivie, my Uncle and Tati. While we sat and toasted, Mum and my Tati brought out gifts, it was like Christmas again, and I did feel loved.
Then, I called my girlfriend.

Oliver Twist...

If the most stupid question in the world is, "Is there GOD?", I heard the second most stupid question today. Someone actually asked me, "Why do you want the things you don't have?" What a moron.
But, he got me thinking. Not of the extent of his stupidity, just thinking of the fact that, that's what we always want; what we don't have. It's my final proof of the insatiability of man.
Rich men don't pass through needle eyes, (or was it camels?), spouses never stay faithful, and Oliver keeps wanting more. That's the state of our world, as it has always been since the beginning of time. And someone says that even the Bible allows us this insatiation, in the book of Proverbs, "..in all thy Getting, Get understanding..".
Now we ask ourselves, with the words from the Holy Book still ringing in our ears, is it therefore a vice to want more?
Too much of everything is bad. That's an adage or admonishment as old as any, and true too. I can remember, very clearly, the last time I went against that sacroscant law. It was beginning of this year, and this story involves me and a 4litre jar of ice-cream. Now, I loooove ice-cream, and half of the angels of Heaven would be needed to stop me if I get to that ecclesiastical place and there is no ice-cream!, and on that fateful day, here was I with a 4litre jar.
At nature, I'm very conservative, a tad of a miser sometimes, but that day, I just wanted mooore! This was something I had! 4litres of vanilla cream all for me, but I just kept wanting another taste., just one more. I finished the jar that day, and my tummy told the story, very badly. (Don't blame me, even Eve couldn't say no to an ordinary fruit, and she had the frigging Garden Of Eden). It doesn't hurt that, the bakery I bought the ice-cream from is called "Wan' more" either, but that is another story.
We always desire more. It's a part of our genetic make-up, it is only after subjecting those hormones and desires that we impose control(keyword being 'impose'). That's why we have sex-offenders, obese people, murderers, thieves and so on, people who were unable to say no to the desire for more. In the world today, however, this 'More syndrome' is actually welcomed. Corporate boardrooms, bank floors, marital bedrooms, concert stages. Encore!
And the man said to his wife;
Man: More?
Wife: Yes! Yes! Yes!*moan*
But that again, is another issue.
How does a man improve if he does not want to?
I think, this is the question the Creator was addressing when he integrated the 'More factor' into our genomic sequence. The desire for more is the very basis of Competition, and like any kid would know, Competition begets success.
So therefore, I'll say it proudly, I'm an Oliver Twist, and I always want more! Desire, Get-to-work, Achieve, then you Desire again. Never forget the 'Get-to-work' step though and who knows, we may achieve whatever we want, Babel-style.
Encore!(Read again).

For better, for worse...

This line scares me more than anything else whenever I think of marriage, and believe me, the very idea of wedding rings, confetti or bouquets sets me on panic alert. Now, naturally, I'm a bit of a traditional; I believe in the sanctity of marriage, fidelity and all that jazz. I'm anti-divorce and pro-family planning, so yeah, you can say I've given the topic quite some thought. But the phrase, "For better, for worse.." scares the socks off me.
By nature, again, I am a fleeting personality. I hardly ever get completely committed to anything. I may get absorbed by a notion for a while, but as soon as it gets boring, my mind shifts. Some say it's my artistic temperament, those people make me smile, I think though, that it's just a bit of a psychological deficiency; 'committophobia' [hahaha], but really though, I have a bad track record and looking back at it, I wonder how I'll manage to keep up with my professed traditional values of fidelity in marriage.
And for the record, I am most definitely not considering marriage anytime soon. That said...
I had a dream, some weeks ago, maybe if I was Wilde, I'ld have written some really bizzare poem about it. Anyways, the dream was some sort of a Christmas Story spoof, with my present and past girlfriends meeting at a table for lunch while I eavesdropped frm behind a curtain. Naturally, table talk was centred on yours truly. After some, [entirely flattering] comments on my 'bedside manner', and romanticisms, they naturally diverted to my flaws and mirthlessly thrashed out the foolish reasons I had given for breaking-up with each of them. The girlfriends of the Present laughed as they heard and then realised that already, I had began to lay ground for creating more such excuses. At the end of the lunch, (or was it my dream), the concensus was that, I am fleeting, childish and shallow. This would have hurt me deeply, even in the dream, if they had not been sending me surreptitious texts and iMs proclaiming love through the lunch. But that is another story.
I wonder and ask myself whenever I can; what am I going to do about my case of 'infideliousness'?
I've tried prayers. It's either I don't have enough faith, or I didn't pray properly or perhaps, this is the divine plan. I tried 'Infidelity Anonymous' once,[lol], the organiser was a hack! B**ch tried to screw me, literally! I've had a spell of psychology sessions and I'm not really going very far there, but considering that I'm examining myself from a bunch of textbooks, I'm not surprised.
Years ago, when I was a wee lad, I did say I would never marry. Unfortunately, (or is it fortunately), the resolve was not because I was certain of a life of infidelity, but because as a product of some foolish childhood eccentricity, I just wanted to be a bachelor till I died. I forget I'm my mother's first son, the destined one to carry the family name [rolling my eyes].
But anyways, I remember a cartoon I watched as a kid in primary school. "For better, for worse" was the name and it was about a family and the trials that each member went through as they grew older and wiser; Emo-issues, finance issues, marriage issues etc. Maybe that's what I need to do; find a dvd of that cartoon, getting a bag of popcorn and watching the whole thing. Who knows, I might learn something. But whichever way, "For better or worse, things would turn out right".

Learning from Obee..

Disappointments rarely, if ever, present themselves as stepping stones, on the contrary, they come across as large blocks of ice which hem us in, cutting us off from our hopes and dreams, driving us deeper and deeper into ourselves, until after a while we're a simple shell of what we once were.
In truth though, disappointments are not a terrible thing, if anything, you could describe them as a necessary part of one's existence. But like death, or sickness, we all strive to avoid disappointments. And like death or sickness, it catches up with us every time. And as with every thing in life, there are stages, so also with disappointment.
First, you have the ........... This stage differs among various people. For some, you have crying, for some you have silence and quiet, but whichever it is, it doesn't last very long, and it is a prelude for what comes next.
Then you have the Outrage, when you just want to lash out, hit back at a target: yourself, the messenger of such bad news, a loved one, etc. This stage is often quite violent, especially if your ....... stage was filled with crying, in which case we'll probably have a tantrum on our hands.
Then, after that, you go into another stage, which involves withdrawal. I'll call this the Brooding stage. A lot of thinking is involved at this stage. You go back every detail, you re-examine the sequence of events, you try in every way you can to figure out what could have gone wrong, and once again, you lay blame. And then, u make the Decision.
This is the fourth phase of facing disappointments. Most of the time, the decision made at this point holds no substance, as it is rash and sooner or later, you forget all about it. But for that moment, that thought is supreme and inviolate in ur sub-concious. And most of the time, it's the wrong call.
It is immediately after this point that you go into a form of Denial. In your mind, you've re-examined the sequence of events, and you have discovered the obvious: it was meant to be. There is no way your plan would have worked anyway. Whether it was a business investment, a job application or a relationship, you weren't smart enough, you weren't good enough and he/she just didn't love you enough.
Disappointments are like funny infectious diseases. When you catch one, it runs its course but how it's handled determines whether it's going to leave behind scars, a (worse and debilitating) opportunistic illness (ignore the lingo, I am a microbiologist after all) or an immunity to further disappointments of that kind. The Denial phase determines which line your disappointment is going to toe.
And now, you Determine. This is the final stage of handling your disappointment. In a true illness, we'll call this convalescence (yes, I did go to school). What you determine is a consequence of what effect Denial had on you. And that effect like I did say, would go a long way in determining the sort of person you turn out to be. But, unlike the other phases, this one actually relies on outside influence. The presence or absence of people, friends or family joining you to cope with this goes a long way in determining the final outcome. If they encourage you, sometimes, you're pushed to surpass what limits were there before and pulsating heatedly within that block of ice in which you were trapped by the disappointment, you reach out, arms stretched and grab that which you sought, and with the faith of your friend lending wings to your feet, you fly above all impossibility and achieve even more than what you originally set out for.
But then again, things could go differently...
Just saying.

Appreciations!

The Shire
1:35pm
15th Jan, 2012.

I am writing again with emotions churning in my heart and a large lump in my throat.
Now, I haven't written anything in a while, and maybe it's because my thoughts have not been clear or my emotions have been in a constant state of flux. Nevertheless, today, I was in church, (Boko be damned!), and I heard the little voice, and it said, "Appreciations!"
In everything I have written for a very long time, I have tried my utmost to be objective, un-biased, and not let my work be subject to any religion, ethnic code or whatnot. I have tried to represent all I can, while talking about Human Nature and upholding Morality(a little). But today, I may shift a little, today I would subscribe to religion, scream I am a Christian and say, Appreciations!
We live our lives, our very day-to-day existence in a world compounded at all ends with different forms of danger. The ability to survive a minute is testament to resilience. At every single moment, we are so engrossed in the need to survive that we forget to sit back, remember and thank GOD for the small mercies.
It's the third week of the year, time is flying on winged steeds, and already we have experienced enough troubles to last an eon. Hairs have added gray, faces have added lines and my previously smooth face has a very prickly stubble. And upon our hearts are burdens, heavy and great. But there are still the small mercies.
There are many nations which have experienced less than a quarter of what we have seen this year and become embroiled in bloody war and revolution. I admit that I stay in relatively calm Benin city and most of the violence has occured in places far from me, and the accounts that I have heard are probably watered-down stories with almost no significance, but still, Appreciations!
I solemnly sympathize with those who have lost family and friends since the beginning of this violence. I would not claim to understand, but I can empathize a little as I have lost close family members too, but never in such an eruption of avoidable violence. I can imagine the heart-wrenching pain and grief in your hearts. I can imagine the anger directed at those perpetrators of evil and at no one in particular. I can imagine the urge to strike back at faceless evil and Death itself. I can imagine hurt and pain and sadness. Tears well up in my eyes even as I write, but nevertheless, Appreciations!
The man would say, it is only in retrospect that we would know if things could have been worse or better whether by one way or another, I would not claim any understanding of these things, just, Appreciations!
Now, I subscribe to Christianity. I believe in GOD, Creator of Heavens and the Earth, Father of All, and I know that all things that happen are decreed by him. I know that whatever may occur, and at whatever time, has been foreseen of him and happens for his purpose. I cannot claim to know the purpose for which we have seen these evil times, neither can I say what the future holds, but I know that in all this chaos, is purpose, and reason.
Hearts of Kings, and the Gears by which the affairs of this world are controlled lie in the hand of GOD and despite their 'unreasonability', He has His reasons. So for the simple mercies of the breath of life, the scent of dew in the morning, the feel of the sun on our face or the light caress of wind on our skin, the fact that the country still stands and with the knowledge that all would be clear at fruition, I thank the LORD.
Someone said, the crisis of the nation has brought together the Christian and Muslim family, especially those in the North, speaking in one voice and uniting. I wonder, in a strange illustration of "Calamity creating the strangest of bedfellows", would hurt and pain be the panacea for our nation? The thoughts trouble me, my mind races and tries to find answers and reason, but in it all, I am certain of order, and purpose, all for our good, by the name of Jesus Christ.
Appreciations!

P.S: I wrote this on Sunday, before the Presidential broadcast or the labour announcement.
P.S.S: Appreciation doesn't really have a plural term, does it??

Clarion call..

These are sacred words I am about to put down. Words from my soul, words of my heart.
It pains me to the very fabric of my being to write this, so soon, so early into the year. But everyone is having a say, and I had better before it is too late, before there is no more time for speech.
In this country today, everyone is talking about protests and revolutions. Illustrations are being drawn and analogies compared to North African students who set themselves on fire and the fate of Nigeria is at the forefront of discussions and when we should celebrate and be happy at our 'crossover' into the new year, we rue and cry and scream and bicker.
The issue of fuel subsidy, Boko Haram and related matters cannot be over emphasized, but it would do us all a lot of good if some downplaying went into the narration of our tale of woes. Nobody is happy about the problems or hurdles the country us passing through right now, but they are hurdles and they are being passed or would be eventually. Like Nelson said, we should "Wait and see". It is imperative that we all keep our calm, and reason to resolve.
Analysts, wizened old men with potbellies the size of Banquo's cauldron and pockets full of thick wads of cash, sit behind their desks and cry murder. They scream that only a bloody revolution would restore this country, a revolution in which we, the youths would have to fight.
Old men don't war. Old men don't care.
They have decided to use us, to bring the impertinence of the youth to bear and press upon him the urge to instigate war. Various messages have been flying across the media, carrying various purported tales about the need to fight and all of them are targeted at the youth! They want to push us to war! Do we know what a revolution is? Basically, we are talking about a war between the people and...the people! And at the end, what do we have? What do we get out of it? Looking at South Sudan, just a few months old and an incessant bickering has started among the people and d flickers of another hatred threaten to ignite the nation in another war! Look at Libya and the jostle for power among the Party members. Taking leaves from the books of history and the French and the Russians, and we ask ourselves, oh Nigeria, is this what we want?
Freedom is won by the blood and sweat of enemies and patriots, but not unity. Unity is won by dialogue and companionship and brotherhood. Freedom is what we have, already. Unity is what we need.
Let us assume we have a revolution. Alongst what lines shall we settle our differences? Socio-economic?[With the poor fighting the rich? As it was in Russia about a century ago] Ethnic lines? Religious differences? We are so diverse in this nation, but unlike the pessimistic antagonists would prefer to think, in our diversity lies our strength.
I am a young person. I am a Nigerian. I was born in this country, and I have since childhood stood at assembly with my classmates and peers, and before the flag, swore, (under democracy and in junta), that I will be, "...Faithful, Loyal and Honest..." that I will, "...serve Nigeria with all my Strength..." and most of all, I would, "...defend her Unity and uphold her Honour..."
I will always believe in my country, that is my Faith. I will speak true and Honestly. I will be Loyal to her, not being ready to spring up and betray her at the first sign of trouble. I will serve her to my utmost capacity, defending her Unity against those who would seek to split her in two. And I would uphold her Honour; she would not be become a war-torn state, not on my watch.
That is the charge; a Clarion call for us as Nigerians. Set aside insane thoughts of revolution my brothers and sisters. We would sit and discuss and plan the future of our nation.
God help us..

This Christmas

As it is with everything ever written, it begins with a story. The tale of a child and how by following a sphere of light billions of miles away, men who claimed wisdom bestowed upon him the title; King. It is the story of Jesus, but since we know it already I’ll just move on.
Years ago, let’s say 2030 years ago, ‘Christmas’ would probably have been a Jewish birthday celebration of some carpenter's kid. Maybe there would have been toys, small wooden figures, horses or camels made in his father’s workshop. A fat uncle here and there, one or two scribes or rabbis, some guys from the Carpenters Association, friends from the neighbourhood synagogue, wine and water and the general spirit of cheer.
Nowadays, it’s an international celebration of feasts with chicken and turkeys and fireworks and parties and worshippers lighting candles and singing “Come all ye faithful”. In this country,[Nigeria], the tradition of holly weaving and sipping eggnog by the fireplace have not really caught on, though I spot a mistletoe twig here and there (especially around my bedroom) and we do sing carols and drink beer.
I have at best celebrated fourteen Christmases with a sane mind and I have enjoyed just about every single one of them. For years, the season was my favorite and the gifts just made it all the sweeter. The taste of éclairs and chocolate bonbons on my tongue and the scratchy Jim Reeves vocals on the gramophone while Mum and Dad danced to “Christmas polka” are among my fondest memories.
Now I am older, I have just graduated from the University and I am accountable. The sounds of “Christmas polka” have faded into the dark of my mind and the onus is upon me to create new memories, so I ask myself; what is happening this Christmas?
In Calabar, and in Lagos, Port-Harcourt and Abuja, the streets are agog with merriment and both literally and figuratively, the carnival is in town. I write from Benin City, the Ancient Kingdom, and one could say, the closest thing to a carnival that this city knows is a couple of local talents screaming out their lungs to an audience already inebriated with alcohol. But there in is fun nonetheless.
Outside my window, in the streets by my house (my mother’s house actually), the people are awake, the sidewalks are crowded and lit brightly. Young and old people sit and tell jokes, even at this time (it is 10:22pm, 24th December), the sound of jubilation is in the air and the merriment is palpable. Firecrackers scream into the heavens giving yours truly a start every now and then, and with them, ‘real’ fireworks light up the sky in an amazing display of colours, making everything beautiful. And I smile and imagine tomorrow.
Tomorrow would be sunny, the air would be bright and in the wind, a sparkle so beautiful. Magical tones would tinkle upon the leaves, and wafting out of every house, the sweet, sweet sounds of carols. Joy would resonate in every heart and ‘jingle bells’ chime in our spirits. In my city, the worshippers would sing praises as the fatted turkeys and chickens would come to rest in our bellies, chased down by healthy quantities of the proper brews. Night would come quickly, and as the dark comes upon us, the streets in my area would light up in sparkles of red and green and Christmas lights. And the carnivals would blaze in brighter colours and the people would be happy and everyone would say “Merry Christmas”, and all tribe and religion shall be one.
But I was wrong.
This Christmas did not dawn sunny. I woke with a sore throat to find a dull morning. The sky was overcast in gray clouds and the air was hazy with the thread of dryness and a hint of smog. The smell of cordite and gunpowder was in the air and the firecrackers continued to explode and startle me half to death. And then the bad news came. In the early hours of the morning, while worshippers prayed and sang, Evil struck and bombs blew up churches in Jos and Yobe. And the day which should have been joyous took on a solemn turn. And the power company refused to restore full power and the generators went on in every compound and soaked the atmosphere with smoke and soot.
But what is Christmas? Is it dependent upon circumstances or travails?
Like it has always been and most probably always will, the Spirit of kindness and love prevailed and the clouds parted and the veil of darkness was rolled away, and rays of sunshine penetrated the gloom and as though at a sign from the gods, everything became warm and I could hear the magical tinkles. From afar a neighbour shouted, “Merry Christmas!” and from every house up and down the street came back the chorus, and the air was filled with joy again.
Later in the evening, as I sat on the floor with family and friends, opening gifts, a holiday movie playing on TV, I could feel a stinging in my eyes as the tears threatened to fall. Whether because of the jet of Champagne that had splashed on my face as I opened the bottle or the joy I felt at that moment I cannot tell. One thing was certain nevertheless, this Christmas was wonderful. It did not hurt that ‘Santa’ had provided most of all that was on my wish list, [“World peace” would have to wait for next year], and it was a nice feeling when, as I was about to propose a toast, I heard a child scream from somewhere on the street, “Up NEPA!”
Merry Christmas!