On childhood friendships and other matters....

I have many opinions about friendship and one of my most famous opinions that my friends cry about is the fact that I do not believe that the childhood friend can be considered as a "friend". Let me explain. Under my category of childhood friends are those neighbourhood kids you ran about with playing games and mischeif. Also, think about the kids you hung with at nursery school and perhaps primary school....sometimes secondary school friends can be under this category especially if you grew up in the same neighborhood and ended up all going to the same schools. Anyway, now, apart from if you all lived at home in the same neighbourhood with your parents until the age of thirty, chances are most people would leave home for different reasons. I know that I drifted quite early from my childhood friends because I was in boarding school in another city. Everytime I came home, new characters had formed from old ones, new identities emerged and I found myself meeting new philosophies, new ideologies...it was natural for me to know that my friends were growing up...just like I was.

I grew up far away, and none of them ever saw these transformations that had taken place. They never saw the books I read, the people I hung out with, the films I watched, the music I listened to.They never saw the things that made me angry or happy, or sad. They never heard me talk about my feelings about religion, life, the government...I grew up far away and they were not there.That is why they do not know that the waffy that used to climb trees with them does not go to church every single sunday. They do not know that the waffy that used to pluck every fruit in the neighbourhood does not care if Rukky is a lesbian....what I am try trying to say is that these people do not know me and I do not expect them to.

Therefore, I am always amazed when people think their childhood friends might know them best of all. How? In what manner? I totally agree that the connection and bond you form in childhood is not easily broken and yes, she/he would probably be the only one you can call in the middle of the night to help you out. Yes, I do agree with that. I know for sure that my childhood friends would never let me down. I can call any of them right now and they would not hesitate one second to bail me out of whatever situation I am in....but do they know me? do they really really know me?
Nope. Impossible.

I am not saying all the friends I formed in university or other places as an adult know me either....not at all....I can count maybe three people in all the different universities that I attended that even know my middle name.

All I am saying, is that very few people see us in our different phases...very few people would meet you in those phases and still think you are a friend. Very few people would see you grow into an adult and still think you are the coolest person on earth. Very few people...and a childhood friend you have not seen in a couple of years is not one of them.

Choices...

The world is out there...a fucking bowl of hot shit....choose your shit and thats about it...even person wey wan clean nyash, toilet paper dey, leaf self dey...abi na water? Even shit self get choice...talkless of you? Hissssssssss. It is not so complicated.Choose what you can live with and get on with it.....

I had a good song for this post but youtube is killing me at the moment.

Thirty years....

Yep...I am thirty today. I have always thought I 'd go out of my twenties with a big bang...a huge party, lots of alcohol to drown out the echos of past mistakes...but here I am...here I am. On an Island. There is nothing to see but the occasional boat passing by....the clear blue sky and water.... I write something every year, but this year, I am writing it on my blog, so it can stay forever and ever and ever and ever....hehehehehehehh

So what infinite wisdom do I have to pass on to my fellow womenfolk? What great advice can I give after these great years of youth and folly? I thought about this all morning....what should I write? Should I write about my catastrophic experiences with the opposite sex? The number of frogs and grasshoppers I kissed? Should I warn about that nasty ugly thing in between the legs of men? Should I write about that great pounding thing called heart...in the chests of men? What should I write about? I thought of all my favourite writers, my favorite philosophers, my favourite role models...what did they say when they turned thirty? Did they sit down and reflect over life? or did they embark on a road trip like my friend Atutu? Did they cry over past mistakes or did they dance for joy at the thought of the future? And so, I reached into my bag and read a book...my book of quotations...you see, I write down things I love to hear again...from movies, books, magazines, tv...even from conversations overheard...I write them down.

Anyway, so I look into this book...and I found a few things that I'd love to share....and perhaps by sharing them it would be easier to write down my own thoughts on my life...

You bear God within you, poor wretch and know it not- Epictetus

Many people asked me what I wished for today...and my wish was as complicated as it was simple. I wish to become a better person than I was yesterday. All I want in life, is to develope as a human being and I guess be the best I can be...as "armylike" as that sounds. I wish this, because I know for sure that the only person I can ever change is me. The only person I can ever affect to do anything good in life, is me...and so...thats about it.

"In desperate love, its always like this isn't it? In desperate love, we always invent the characters of our partners demanding that they be what we need of them and then feeling devasted when they refuse to perform the role we created in the first place"

Yes, sometimes we all wish for people to love us just as much as we love them...we hang on to false hopes and most of the time, we hang on to pure bullshit. As desperate as we are to love them, and make them happy, it just does not work that way. Many times, the kind of love we want does not exist in the world of the other person...so while you are giving a 100% of your soul, even 5% of that person's soul might never get to you. A very tough lesson to learn, but once learnt, I promise living and loving is so much easier.

"Fate always gives you two choices, the one you should take and the one you do"

So what do I really know for sure? Well the one thing I am sure of, is you can only know yourself. At nights, when you are all alone, in your head, no one can ever get in there...no one ever knows your fears or worries...your past that fades in and out of dreams...no one can ever get in there...so at the end of the day...you are all alone with who you are. That is why, you can only be accountable for your actions in life. Your choices are the ones you shall live with...and you owe no man for them. You can never apologise for who you are or choose to be. People will love you, hate you, or manage you, but thats just the way it is. Quit apologising for your choices...you alone will have to live with them and not Mama Sikira from across the street. As a woman, I have been faced with too many choices in life and none that will ever satisfy everybody I know.

"It is better to live your own destiny imperfectly than live an imitation of somebody's life with perfection"

And so, this is my prayer for myself today: Please God help me be strong in the direction I have chosen. Let me persevere, let me go through what I have to go through, but let me get there....let me get there...

I am thirty today.

The damn intensity!

Yeah...I am one of those people...the "intense" kind...I guess my biggest flaw in my character. My friends and family know it as "being Waffy", they know me. I never have to apologise for sudden hugs, sudden laughter, sudden affection...I can phone a friend in the middle of the night and say how much I love the person...or the opposite. I send christmas cards to friends I have not seen in six years, I remember little moments and cry, I get happy meal cos I wanna get the toys for my little friends...I send post cards just cos I like the way they look. I buy gifts for people that I want myself, I read too many books, my eyes are always aching....I think and worry about my family and friends...I wish I could tell them how much they mean to me all the time...

Yeah, I am "intense"...so punish me for that. Punish me because I overwhelm you with my emotions and love...punish me because I dare to be me. Now you want me to be real...live in reality? Heheheheh, yeah, I can do that, how are you? how do you do?

Yeah, I can live in the real world, be cool, calm, collected. I can do that...its the easiest thing to do baby, so easy. Living in the real world is the simplest thing. Just look around you...we can all be the same, wear the same clothes, listen to the same music, have the same ideas, yeah...thats right, I can do this.

But I am not gonna cos your world sucks!
and yeah, fuck you too.

and while I am in the real world, this will be my summer song...

but this is how I feel

The mystery of the Nigerian divorce

Chances are, if you are a single woman, you have come across the divorced Nigerian man. Chances are, if you are one of those stubborn women, you finally asked to see the "papers" and chances are, this is what he said:

a) Actually, there are no papers saying he is "divorced" because they were actually never married legally. Actually, it was a traditional marraige, therefore, since there were no "papers" from the very begining, there are no "papers" at the end.

b) Actually, they are not divorced "legally", more like they are seperated and even though he still pays for her upkeep, and she still bears his name, they hardly see, hence, it is more like a "divorce".

The truth is probably that you are dating a married man who likes to eat his cake and have it. He has his ever faithful wife kept away in a nice little home with his children somewhere while he is living the life of a bachelor or "divorced single guy" in the city. This is where the mystery lies. Are there any men in Nigeria that are actually divorced?

Ladies, lets hear your opinions on this matter.

Saturday music- Ladies, you all know you got freaky then...

My teenage years....damn.

A shadow of a thought....

I have so many drafts on my blog, I write everyday but most just end up as drafts cos I use this account as a sort of diary... thats why they are drafts...anyway...so today, I decided to look through them just like you would do if you had a diary...and I came across this...the same thought but three different versions... I don't know what I was gonna use it for..no fucking clue...

Version one

Your sweet lips
and muscular arms
your bare chest
and strong buttocks
your loving hands
and hard....

"I have missed you so", he said, gathering me into his arms and planting a kiss on my inviting lips, "where have you been?", no where...I have been here, waiting for you....

And all this is nothing but the pleasure of a shadow of a thought.


Version two

"I have missed you so", he said, gathering me into his arms and planting a kiss on my inviting lips, "where have you been?", nowhere...I have been here, waiting for you....

"waffy? you okay?"

"Yes I am, why?"

"why are you smiling?"

"Oh, it was the pleasure of a thought"

"A thought?"

"No it wasn't...it was the shadow of a thought, yes, thats what it was, just a
shadow"

Version three

In what seemed to be a moment
I wrote words from depths
that knew no depths
and every word had but a moment
to describe feelings
to describe reasons
why all this must be said at this moment
and when all was said, it took just a moment
for me to realise it was all a shadow of a thought.

I love you at three o'clock in the afternoon

You see, he was not that kind of man. He was not the kind that said "I love you", he was the kind that said "I miss you". That is why when Udoh said "I love you" at three o'clock on a saturday afternoon, Sade knew something was wrong. You see, Sade was not the kind of woman that asked "what is wrong?", instead, Sade asked "where are you? Now, Udoh could have lied and said something else, but you see, Udoh was not that kind of man. So Udoh told Sade the truth. He was out with friends and yes, she was there. The truth sank in like a bitter pill and Sade's mouth twisted into her own mother's mouth. However, she did not do what her mother would have done, which is to shout on Udoh like a woman in labour, instead, she did what her father would have done. She gave a little laugh and told him to have fun. Udoh was not a man who did not know his wife and that is why when his wife appeared an hour later in high heels and red lipstick, he was not suprised. He whispered "I missed you" into the ears of his wife and everything was exactly as it was before he said "I love you" at three o'clock in the afternoon.

Happy Birthday to a dear friend

No worry, we go still go Egypt, plus Jordan...just wait small...make I hammer first...until then...enjoy...

SHIRELLES - Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow

Just cos I have nothing better to do on a saturday than listen to music...

and this is what you listen to when you have a hangover....

Fuck it...

So what if I get nasty drunk? Yeah...I think I will...Fuck it.

The spy

“Can you meet me after the seminar?” That’s what the folded note said. The one that landed on my lap in the middle of a seminar. What is this? Primary school? I looked at the note-thrower, it was George. I had noticed him walk in the hall, all sweaty and nervous. I knew him but not well enough to get notes thrown at me at my old age in the middle of a seminar. “Why?” I wrote at the back of the paper and tried as discreetly as I could to throw it. I was still good; it landed perfectly, in the middle of his legs. “I have to meet someone” the returned note said. Aha!The day has finally come. I had waited for this day for as long as I could remember. The day when accidentally, I would be drawn into the underworld of spies. They still existed I knew and now finally, I would be made an accomplice. There would be no way out once I got in. I took a deep breath and made the decision. “Okay” I wrote back. I waited patiently for the seminar to be over and threw glances from time to time at George whose mouth was now twitching uncontrollably. I wondered who we were going to meet, a fellow spy I suppose…and only I would notice his stained teeth… from drinking tea with sugar stuck between his teeth…his boots worn out from the snows of Siberia…his slight Russian accent…I will notice all these…

“So, what is this all about?”

“Oh, I am meeting Johan for coffee, just thought you might like to come along”

The sweetest thing....

Am I actually giggling? Well, this is not giggling...I swear I am laughing out loud! I can be so silly...so this is what it means to be in euphoria? hehehehhe, well this euphoria thing is quite good...now lets see if I can jump and catch that leaf...Oh dear! heheheheh yeah...well, let's try the next one....there! and its a good leaf too! Nice whole shape...now if only I could find a good stick...so what was it about the brown envelope that got me into giggles? Got me so happy...I laughed out loud tearing the envelope...and all the time thinking..."he is so useless"....I looked at them one by one...and still the giggles...perhaps it was the memories that overwhelmed me with each item...perhaps it was the thought of it all...perhaps it was the giggles...perhaps it was him...I kept walking as I thought of the brown envelope, placed gently underneath my clothes...in my favourite drawer...with my favourite clothes...

Did he really send me pacesetters?

We and "dem"

There is really no solution with these our African leaders oh. I don think the matter finish. We have to meet them on their level...all these English yarns...we can all write as much as we can... it is not getting anywhere..they just don't get it. Time to get local. Lets take it there.

Na juju be the answer. Anybody knows some serious Babalawo/Marabou that can make things happen? and...I am not joking...please contact me. Thanks.

P.S: The juju should be able to fly to other African countries...I will be willing to pay for "express delivery".

The phone call

My heart is beating wildly….no, I cannot do it. I turn to my right and enter the nearest building. What is wrong with me? Is this how an adult is supposed to behave? This is no life to live…dodging from people…dodging from friends just because I have no explanation. I look around in the building I am now in; it is some sort of reception. I sit down and pretend I am waiting for someone. I start flipping through a magazine as if I really have a mission there. Nobody seems to take any notice of me, which is all good because how do I explain to people that the only reason I am in a strange building is because I am dodging a friend? I do not know if I can even call her that anymore, three months have passed since I last heard from her, she must hate me by now. I might be her number one enemy. The friend that is not worth being called a friend. How did I get myself in this embarrassing position? I will tell you, but you will not believe me, but I will tell you anyway.

It all started one night three months ago. I was tired, very tired. I saw her number on my phone and I did not pick up my phone. I just could not be bothered with a conversation at that moment. It is not as if I do not like my friend, Mary. It is just that sometimes, my brain refuses to cooperate with me. My brain decides that enough is enough and it would not matter if it was the president on the phone. Anyway, so I decided to ignore the intrusive sound coming from my phone. I did not switch off my phone but I put it under my pillow, then I put two blankets on the pillow and pretended my phone was nonexistent underneath it all. Now the next day, I could have called and made up a story about how I was sick or in the bathroom or I could have just said the truth…that I was extremely tired but I never called. Then a week passed and I still did not have any good reason for not returning her call. Then two weeks passed and I felt so horrible and ashamed of myself that I definitely could not call. By the time a month passed, I felt like the most useless friend on earth…how could I do this? Why don’t I just call her and apologize profusely for my stupidity? Or better still, I could make up the greatest lie of all time…that I was sick in a hospital bed without any means of communication whatsoever…or even better…I had amnesia…I could make up the biggest story ever, and my friend would forgive me. She would hug me and tell me how much she missed me, how she was so wrong to judge me so fast…I could do all that but I do not.

Instead, I am hiding in a strange building pretending to be waiting for someone all because I cannot face my friend Mary whose phone call I never returned….I am hopeless.

Just thinking....

Do you sometimes get tired of reacting to things around you and for the very purpose of sanity choose to be numb? I do that sometimes...I do that often...I sometimes think I could easily sleep half my life away...just cos I hate the very process that comes with reacting. You see, every reaction requires a thought process...you have to think did I react properly? why did I react this way? etc etc...or at least its a fucking pain for me...analyse, scrutinise etc....was it right? was it wrong? its just a fucking pain...so sometimes I choose "no reaction"...pretend nothing ever happened and then, viola! you don't have to think about it....right? Wrong. Now I am thinking, why am I so "numb"? is this really healthy, to choose a path of no reaction just cos you are lazy with the whole thinking process? After all, thats what I love to do best....think. I sometimes feel thats the only true gift I have been given...without that...what else is there to do in life? No, really? anything else more gratifying than the process of your thoughts?