I woke up in a stange bed. I slowly opened my eyes. Roger was snoring beside me and beside him, was Roland. Also snoring. Roland was right. His bed was huge enough for three people. There was a strange smell...the cat. It had slept beside me for a while as well. What a sight we must have made! Two men, a woman and a cat. I slowly made my way to the kitchen. The kitchen was...in a state. It was terrible. I don't remember contributing to the state of affairs in the kitchen. All I did, was drink "chai tea". I opened the window. Wow! What a view. The sea was right there...with boats and all. What a view! I slowly picked up my scattered belongs...jacket, shoe, bag...I had slept with my phone in the pocket of my jeans and it had dug deep into my flesh. It hurt.
I tried to see if I could get on the internet. For some reason, I could not figure out how his computer came on. I took a pain killer. I remembered to thank myself for being a genius and always having painkillers everywhere. I did not want to make more noise than necessary so I gave up on the computer. Aden was asleep on the sofa. He was making some sort of jerking kicks in his sleep. I wondered if he was having some sort of "mini seizures" in his sleep...
I wrote a note in the kitchen. "Thank you for the beautiful memories". I tried to close the door as softly as I could but it would not shut, so I had to close it with a bang! I had no idea what floor I was on, so I decided to take the lift, which was a good thing cos it seemed I had been on the 7th floor!
I walked by the sea. People were jogging, eating and doing other things. It was eleven already. I bought water at a store. An old lady allowed me to pay before her. She said she had so much time, so it was okay if I went before her. That was nice.
I got on the train and sat opposite an extremely spoilt little girl who was getting on her mother's last nerves. The old woman on the other side of the aisle gave me a knowing smile. The mother began to talk to us, in an apologetic way. "She is not usually like this, but the moment we are amongst other people, she always does this. There is nothing wrong with the pear, but she doesnt want to eat the skin on it". The old lady said "they probably peel it for them at the nursery. Ah! city children!"
When I got off the train, I got a hotdog. There was a man and his dog at the kiosk. He wanted two hot dogs. I wondered if it was for him and his dog or just for him. He wanted "curry ketchup" on them. They did not have curry ketchup.
The events of the night were still reeling like a movie in my head...Roger going back and forth from the bar and arriving always with buckets of ice and bottles in them...white wine, rose, white wine, rose...toilet...changing shoes...Rita leaving us cos she had to work the next day...somebody with the idea...Roland's apartment...party animals...music...city...2010...all kinds of stuff...then they left...to get more stuff...music...me sleeping...then they could not sleep...me laughing...serves you right! moderation is the key....then they went swimming...then they watched a movie...they were up all night...party animals...and didn't they all stand up and sing happy birthday to me???in that fancy bar? ha ha ha ha! what a night!
It was hot by the time I got home. My dustbin was stinking again. Why don't I ever remember to take it with me when I leave the apartment? I took off my clothes. I smelt of everything and everybody.
It had been a good night. But a decadent one.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Slightly depressing thoughts @ 32...
Some things are just "whatever" and some things are not.
I accept most things that come my way...with simplicity. Or at least, I try to.
I still have a lot of healing to do. I don't talk too often to people about my problems because I am always busy solving other peoples problems. I might need to change that.
I have way too many ideas in my head. I might need to sort some of them out.
It is OBVIOUS I am doomed with men.
My family and friends give me strength.
Sometimes I am so fucked up that I want to pull my hair out.
I am more confident at work.
I don't really like to do things that I don't like to do.
There is still one human being I would like to say "fuck you" to...
I need to listen to more music. I feel like I don't do that often enough.
I should continue jogging. It makes me feel a bit active in life.
I made up my own religion. Which is a mixture of everything. But I am quite happy with it. It makes me feel much better about what I am standing for in life.
It has occured to me that it might be the world that is fucked up and not me. Global warming has been on my mind lately. Human beings are as cruel as I have always suspected.
I don't eat meat so much anymore. Especially red meat. I often throw up after I eat meat these days...I am not sure what this means but my body does not accept it anymore.
I have the ability to be a loner. It is scary. I once went a whole week without talking to anybody.
I am inspired, creatively, which is so great. I am doing so many things and I love it.
I love babies and old people
Most people dont understand me, so I have learnt to keep away.
I am not sure what I am actually doing with my life but it feels like I am doing something.
Sometimes I get very lonely and the loneliness cuts through every layer of confidence that I have stacked up...it cuts deep and I am just bare...naked and empty.
I am not sure how I feel about turning 32.
Slightly depressing but I am accepting it.
I feel underachieved.
I feel life is passing me by. Shouldnt I be on a train somewhere? seeing things? Siberia? Mongolia?
Well, as long as I am still alive, I still got things to do. New chances, new opportunities, etc etc...I guess I better get on with it...this mundane business of trying to "live".
I am 32 today and I am alive. Not bad, not bad at all.
PS: In case anybody is interested, here are my thoughts when I turned 30 and when I turned 31 .
I accept most things that come my way...with simplicity. Or at least, I try to.
I still have a lot of healing to do. I don't talk too often to people about my problems because I am always busy solving other peoples problems. I might need to change that.
I have way too many ideas in my head. I might need to sort some of them out.
It is OBVIOUS I am doomed with men.
My family and friends give me strength.
Sometimes I am so fucked up that I want to pull my hair out.
I am more confident at work.
I don't really like to do things that I don't like to do.
There is still one human being I would like to say "fuck you" to...
I need to listen to more music. I feel like I don't do that often enough.
I should continue jogging. It makes me feel a bit active in life.
I made up my own religion. Which is a mixture of everything. But I am quite happy with it. It makes me feel much better about what I am standing for in life.
It has occured to me that it might be the world that is fucked up and not me. Global warming has been on my mind lately. Human beings are as cruel as I have always suspected.
I don't eat meat so much anymore. Especially red meat. I often throw up after I eat meat these days...I am not sure what this means but my body does not accept it anymore.
I have the ability to be a loner. It is scary. I once went a whole week without talking to anybody.
I am inspired, creatively, which is so great. I am doing so many things and I love it.
I love babies and old people
Most people dont understand me, so I have learnt to keep away.
I am not sure what I am actually doing with my life but it feels like I am doing something.
Sometimes I get very lonely and the loneliness cuts through every layer of confidence that I have stacked up...it cuts deep and I am just bare...naked and empty.
I am not sure how I feel about turning 32.
Slightly depressing but I am accepting it.
I feel underachieved.
I feel life is passing me by. Shouldnt I be on a train somewhere? seeing things? Siberia? Mongolia?
Well, as long as I am still alive, I still got things to do. New chances, new opportunities, etc etc...I guess I better get on with it...this mundane business of trying to "live".
I am 32 today and I am alive. Not bad, not bad at all.
PS: In case anybody is interested, here are my thoughts when I turned 30 and when I turned 31 .
Thursday, July 22, 2010
He got me out...
I've been in some sort of "funk"...my mood has been very strange...not depressed but just sooooooooo unmotivated to do anything at all. Everything has been "blahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh". Was busy wallowing in my funk, when I got the cutest message from one of my colleagues at work (I took some days off this week). He wrote that he misses me at work and wanted to know when I was coming back cos he had so much gossip for me! Plus he was so happy and wanted to share some news (I think he is in love!)isn't that just the sweetest! Now I am actually looking forward to going to work and hearing the good news. I am out of the funk! Now lets see if I can do some cleaning here...
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Thinking...
I raise my hands to heaven of curiosity
I don't know what to ask for
What has it got for me?
The others say we're hiding
It's as forward as can be
Some things I do for money
Some things I do for free
I don't know what to ask for
What has it got for me?
The others say we're hiding
It's as forward as can be
Some things I do for money
Some things I do for free
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Insecure...
I know you would be lucky...
so lucky to have me
I am smart, funny and kind
and I like to laugh
I am so cute!
Thats what you said
I am so cute!
I saw myself in the window of the train..
You are right
I am so cute!
But why am I scared?
why am I so scared of rejection?
Deep in my heart, I feel the words
"Not good enough"
But I am so cute!
I am funny and smart
and I like to laugh...
But maybe, just maybe, I'll never be good enough...
so lucky to have me
I am smart, funny and kind
and I like to laugh
I am so cute!
Thats what you said
I am so cute!
I saw myself in the window of the train..
You are right
I am so cute!
But why am I scared?
why am I so scared of rejection?
Deep in my heart, I feel the words
"Not good enough"
But I am so cute!
I am funny and smart
and I like to laugh...
But maybe, just maybe, I'll never be good enough...
Monday, July 19, 2010
More train meetings...
A young man
"I am here" I wrote.
"I am almost there" he wrote.
I was still listening to my music, was it disrespectful to listen to music while you waited for someone? Would it be a bit too nonchalant? I was not sure how it would look, so I put away my Ipod. I was at the top of the stairs. Perhaps I should be downstairs? How would it look, me waiting for him to climb all the way up to meet me? I was not sure how it would look, so I went down. He was already there.
"Hi!" I said
I was not sure what to do...should I hug him or should I shake his hand? So I did nothing. I put my hands in my pockets and just smiled. He hugged me.
"Here you are" he said
"Yes, here I am".
The old man
The young man had left. I waved at him until I could not see the train anymore. I was in some kind of trance. Perhaps it was all that waving...everything seemed so hazy...or was it the sun?
"Is this the train you take to XXX?"
"Sorry?" Somehow, I had missed the entrance of the person speaking. I turned to look at him. He was very old and one of his fingers was bleeding...
"Is this the train you take to XXX?"
"Yes...are you okay?"
"I got lost" he said "At my age, you often get a bit confused...then I fell down the stairs...but I only hurt my hand...not my head" he smiled at me.
"Poor you!" I patted his back...."Poor you!"
I watched him try to wrap the cut finger in some toilet paper. To my amazement, he had wrapped the wrong finger! The cut finger was bleeding right beside the good finger he had wrapped...
"You know, I lost my way...but I always say, the world is round so sooner or later, I will always get back to where I am coming from"
"You wrapped the wrong finger"
"Oh...thank you"
He unwrapped the wrong finger and now wrapped another healthy finger on the other side of the cut finger...the cut finger was still bleeding...
"When you have celebrated being 50 twice, these things get confusing thats why I lost my way"
"Can I help you with that?"
"Yes please, you are kind"
I took off the toilet paper from the wrong finger and wrapped the cut finger...
"Now you have to hold it...like so...good"
"Thank you"
"How old are you?"
"92...you know the best age is from 30 to 35...then you fit right in society...at my age, I don't fit in anymore"
"I guess I fit right in then! I will be 32 soon! Where are you going to?"
"XXX...I live at the old people's home there...I haven't been around this area for so many years...that's why I got lost...you know, when you get to be 50, you keep looking forward to being a pensioner...but it not like you thought it would be...my wife is gone, all my friends...now, time has no meaning for me...is my finger bleeding a lot?"
"Well, there is some blood"
"Is it red?"
"At least its not blue"
We both laughed...
My train passed by...
"Oh shit! That was my train! ah! never mind..."
"Oh...its all my fault..."
"No, no, don't worry about it...the next one is in 6 minutes...I don't have anything to do anyway...better to make sure you get on the right train...and remember, you have to take it all the way to the end"
"All the way..."
"Yes, all the way to the very end...then you get off"
"You missed your train"
"Thats okay...never mind that"
"But this is what always happens...you try to be good to someone and then...always you miss out on something"
"Ah! that's life!"
"Do you like it here? in this country?"
"Its okay"
"You know, if you really get in the society, the people here are very kind...at least 90% of them...but then, there is that ten percent of people that are not...but they don't count anyway, so never mind them"
"No, evil people don't count"
His train arrived.
He got up and stood straight like a soldier in the army. He put out his hand..
"Thank you very much. You have been very kind. I wish more people were like you"
I gave him a hug.
"Take the train all the way"
"All the way"
As the doors closed behind him, He stood there, waving...standing so tall and straight...
I waved back...I would never see him again. His time was too short to even hope or dream that we would ever meet again...
So I waved until I could see him no more...
I did not cry.
"I am here" I wrote.
"I am almost there" he wrote.
I was still listening to my music, was it disrespectful to listen to music while you waited for someone? Would it be a bit too nonchalant? I was not sure how it would look, so I put away my Ipod. I was at the top of the stairs. Perhaps I should be downstairs? How would it look, me waiting for him to climb all the way up to meet me? I was not sure how it would look, so I went down. He was already there.
"Hi!" I said
I was not sure what to do...should I hug him or should I shake his hand? So I did nothing. I put my hands in my pockets and just smiled. He hugged me.
"Here you are" he said
"Yes, here I am".
The old man
The young man had left. I waved at him until I could not see the train anymore. I was in some kind of trance. Perhaps it was all that waving...everything seemed so hazy...or was it the sun?
"Is this the train you take to XXX?"
"Sorry?" Somehow, I had missed the entrance of the person speaking. I turned to look at him. He was very old and one of his fingers was bleeding...
"Is this the train you take to XXX?"
"Yes...are you okay?"
"I got lost" he said "At my age, you often get a bit confused...then I fell down the stairs...but I only hurt my hand...not my head" he smiled at me.
"Poor you!" I patted his back...."Poor you!"
I watched him try to wrap the cut finger in some toilet paper. To my amazement, he had wrapped the wrong finger! The cut finger was bleeding right beside the good finger he had wrapped...
"You know, I lost my way...but I always say, the world is round so sooner or later, I will always get back to where I am coming from"
"You wrapped the wrong finger"
"Oh...thank you"
He unwrapped the wrong finger and now wrapped another healthy finger on the other side of the cut finger...the cut finger was still bleeding...
"When you have celebrated being 50 twice, these things get confusing thats why I lost my way"
"Can I help you with that?"
"Yes please, you are kind"
I took off the toilet paper from the wrong finger and wrapped the cut finger...
"Now you have to hold it...like so...good"
"Thank you"
"How old are you?"
"92...you know the best age is from 30 to 35...then you fit right in society...at my age, I don't fit in anymore"
"I guess I fit right in then! I will be 32 soon! Where are you going to?"
"XXX...I live at the old people's home there...I haven't been around this area for so many years...that's why I got lost...you know, when you get to be 50, you keep looking forward to being a pensioner...but it not like you thought it would be...my wife is gone, all my friends...now, time has no meaning for me...is my finger bleeding a lot?"
"Well, there is some blood"
"Is it red?"
"At least its not blue"
We both laughed...
My train passed by...
"Oh shit! That was my train! ah! never mind..."
"Oh...its all my fault..."
"No, no, don't worry about it...the next one is in 6 minutes...I don't have anything to do anyway...better to make sure you get on the right train...and remember, you have to take it all the way to the end"
"All the way..."
"Yes, all the way to the very end...then you get off"
"You missed your train"
"Thats okay...never mind that"
"But this is what always happens...you try to be good to someone and then...always you miss out on something"
"Ah! that's life!"
"Do you like it here? in this country?"
"Its okay"
"You know, if you really get in the society, the people here are very kind...at least 90% of them...but then, there is that ten percent of people that are not...but they don't count anyway, so never mind them"
"No, evil people don't count"
His train arrived.
He got up and stood straight like a soldier in the army. He put out his hand..
"Thank you very much. You have been very kind. I wish more people were like you"
I gave him a hug.
"Take the train all the way"
"All the way"
As the doors closed behind him, He stood there, waving...standing so tall and straight...
I waved back...I would never see him again. His time was too short to even hope or dream that we would ever meet again...
So I waved until I could see him no more...
I did not cry.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
The "Italiano"...
I smelt him before I saw him. His perfume hung heavily around him...I hoped he would not sit near me...my asthma is easily triggered by the mixture of heat and perfume...of course he sat next to me...
"When is the train going?" he asked, in an accent that if anything, was from the middle east. When one speaks a foriegn language, it is easier as a foriegner to recognise other foriegn accents than as a native speaker. If I had to give a rough guess, I would put my bet on Syria...
"Its up there" I said, pointing to the screen...
"Have the trains been cancelled today? he asked
"Not that I know of..."
"So how come the next one is in twenty minutes? Shouldnt there be one in about ten minutes?
"Today is saturday"
"You know, I don't normally take the train...I normally use my car"
"So you are going for a party?"
"Huh?"
"Perhaps you want to drink, thats why you are not using your car today, after all it is saturday"
"Oh no, my car is in service thats why"
He smiled at me and put out his hand...
"Karpri...Italiano"
I shook his hand...
"Waffy" I said.
"And you are from?"
"Nigeria, and you?"
"Italiano"
You fucking got to be kidding me! this is his player tactics! Mary, mother of Jesus! Nobody from Italy introduces himself as "Italiano"...and maybe he should have changed the music blasting from his phone if he really wanted anybody to believe he was Italian...dumbass...arabic music is not so hard to NOT recognise...
And...did his hand just snake over my shoulder??????????????????
The movement I made can hardly be called a "jerk", it was a mixture of "cringing" and a jerk...which could have turned into a blow...
The shock of my movement made him move almost with reflex. I could see that he must be a constant reciever of such movements...
"You know, I never take the train, so all this is new to me"
I took his appearance in...expensive leather slippers or something that was supposed to look expensive...gold watch, a white shirt, loosely left open at the top of the neck, some sort of slacks and his over powering perfume...
"So what do you do?" I asked
"Italiano" he said
I almost sniggered...what was his obsession with that fucking word?
"Italiano?"
"I am a cook. An Italian cook. I work in an Italian restaurant"
"I see...."
"Are you going to a party?"
Was this human being aware that his accent was not in anywhere near to any of the European language groups? Even I could do a more convincing "Italian accent"! My years of speaking with Italian Warri Ashawo returnees would have come in useful...
"No"
"Can I have your number?"
"Why don't you give me your number and maybe one day, I 'll come and visit you at your restaurant"
"Okay"
"So...it starts with ------ I paused. I opened my phone...
"Ehh...yes...G"
"G?
"Gabi"
"Right!"
He must have forgotten that he told me "Karpri"...maybe he normally uses both "player names" and now he forgot which one he used...
My train rolled into the station.
"Good bye then" I said.
He winked at me.
Asshole.
"When is the train going?" he asked, in an accent that if anything, was from the middle east. When one speaks a foriegn language, it is easier as a foriegner to recognise other foriegn accents than as a native speaker. If I had to give a rough guess, I would put my bet on Syria...
"Its up there" I said, pointing to the screen...
"Have the trains been cancelled today? he asked
"Not that I know of..."
"So how come the next one is in twenty minutes? Shouldnt there be one in about ten minutes?
"Today is saturday"
"You know, I don't normally take the train...I normally use my car"
"So you are going for a party?"
"Huh?"
"Perhaps you want to drink, thats why you are not using your car today, after all it is saturday"
"Oh no, my car is in service thats why"
He smiled at me and put out his hand...
"Karpri...Italiano"
I shook his hand...
"Waffy" I said.
"And you are from?"
"Nigeria, and you?"
"Italiano"
You fucking got to be kidding me! this is his player tactics! Mary, mother of Jesus! Nobody from Italy introduces himself as "Italiano"...and maybe he should have changed the music blasting from his phone if he really wanted anybody to believe he was Italian...dumbass...arabic music is not so hard to NOT recognise...
And...did his hand just snake over my shoulder??????????????????
The movement I made can hardly be called a "jerk", it was a mixture of "cringing" and a jerk...which could have turned into a blow...
The shock of my movement made him move almost with reflex. I could see that he must be a constant reciever of such movements...
"You know, I never take the train, so all this is new to me"
I took his appearance in...expensive leather slippers or something that was supposed to look expensive...gold watch, a white shirt, loosely left open at the top of the neck, some sort of slacks and his over powering perfume...
"So what do you do?" I asked
"Italiano" he said
I almost sniggered...what was his obsession with that fucking word?
"Italiano?"
"I am a cook. An Italian cook. I work in an Italian restaurant"
"I see...."
"Are you going to a party?"
Was this human being aware that his accent was not in anywhere near to any of the European language groups? Even I could do a more convincing "Italian accent"! My years of speaking with Italian Warri Ashawo returnees would have come in useful...
"No"
"Can I have your number?"
"Why don't you give me your number and maybe one day, I 'll come and visit you at your restaurant"
"Okay"
"So...it starts with ------ I paused. I opened my phone...
"Ehh...yes...G"
"G?
"Gabi"
"Right!"
He must have forgotten that he told me "Karpri"...maybe he normally uses both "player names" and now he forgot which one he used...
My train rolled into the station.
"Good bye then" I said.
He winked at me.
Asshole.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
I dont want to...
I don't want to give love a chance anymore...
Was it in "precious" when the character said "love only hurt me?" That's how I feel about men. Loving them have only hurt me. What good has ever come out of me being in love? Mostly people using me for their own selfish reasons. I never met any man that completely loved me for who I am....
I know I should give you a chance. But I don't want to. I don't want love anymore. I don't want all these feelings, hoping and then disappointment. I don't want all these expectations and then...disappointment. I don't want all these dreams and then...disappointment.
I don't want it anymore.
Loving men never did me any good. All it did was chew me up and spit me out.
So now, I don't really care what your plan is. Why you call or don't call. Why you write or don't write. I am not waiting for what it is you want to give...I see it already...all these signs hanging around...all these signs hanging around my dreams ...I see them already...
Disappointment.
No. I am not waiting for you...
I don't want to...
Was it in "precious" when the character said "love only hurt me?" That's how I feel about men. Loving them have only hurt me. What good has ever come out of me being in love? Mostly people using me for their own selfish reasons. I never met any man that completely loved me for who I am....
I know I should give you a chance. But I don't want to. I don't want love anymore. I don't want all these feelings, hoping and then disappointment. I don't want all these expectations and then...disappointment. I don't want all these dreams and then...disappointment.
I don't want it anymore.
Loving men never did me any good. All it did was chew me up and spit me out.
So now, I don't really care what your plan is. Why you call or don't call. Why you write or don't write. I am not waiting for what it is you want to give...I see it already...all these signs hanging around...all these signs hanging around my dreams ...I see them already...
Disappointment.
No. I am not waiting for you...
I don't want to...
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
For my friend...
I was going to write something special for you, but these lyrics reminded me so much of you today...everything I ever wanted to say, its all here. Happy Birthday. You know me. I know you. May all of your dreams come true. I wish this, with all of my heart and soul...
You are my sister, we were born
So innocent, so full of need
There were times we were friends but times I was so cruel
Each night I'd ask for you to watch me as I sleep
I was so afraid of the night
You seemed to move through the places that I feared
You lived inside my world so softly
Protected only by the kindness of your nature
You are my sister
And I love you
May all of your dreams come true
We felt so differently then
So similar over the years
The way we laugh the way we experience pain
So many memories
But theres nothing left to gain from remembering
Faces and worlds that no one else will ever know
You are my sister
And I love you
May all of your dreams come true
I want this for you
They're gonna come true...
You are my sister, we were born
So innocent, so full of need
There were times we were friends but times I was so cruel
Each night I'd ask for you to watch me as I sleep
I was so afraid of the night
You seemed to move through the places that I feared
You lived inside my world so softly
Protected only by the kindness of your nature
You are my sister
And I love you
May all of your dreams come true
We felt so differently then
So similar over the years
The way we laugh the way we experience pain
So many memories
But theres nothing left to gain from remembering
Faces and worlds that no one else will ever know
You are my sister
And I love you
May all of your dreams come true
I want this for you
They're gonna come true...
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Fat white woman, Black African man.
Finally! I have time to write this down! A topic that has been on my mind for ages, and no matter what I do, I am composing this blog post in my head. It is 12:24 and I can't sleep so now, I write on this topic that has been bothering me. Do I hear a man somewhere shouting in a shrill voice, "how dare she?" Yes, I dare.
How many people here live in Europe? There are many, I am sure... and I know, if we are all honest, every single woman here will say "To say the truth, I have noticed it shaaaaaaaa"...so lets begin. Strip yourself of pride and dignity and lets investigate together, this topic.
Now, this anthropological study of mine began many years ago. When I first arrived on this continent, I was nineteen years old and somebody invited me to a club. "What kind of club is it?" I asked. The person replied "A hip hop club" which was quite different because at that time, the only places you could go were "discos". They only played techno, house, or popular music. I mean, now, there are all sorts of clubs, reggae, salsa, etc . Anyway, so, if you wanted to hear something familiar, a hip hop club did not sound bad.
I went there with a couple of friends and I recognised many of the guys there. Nigerian guys and other Africans as well. The club was bouncing. I even recognised the D.J, one Nigerian guy from the technical university. Everybody was having fun, dancing, when all of a sudden, I noticed something. As the night progressed, I began to notice that every white woman that entered the club was fatter than the one before her...I thought this rather odd...why was the club being invaded by fat white women? Did I miss something?
At that time, I was too naive and too young to digest the implications of this observation. I merely danced the night away and forgot about the topic with a shrug of my shoulders...
Years passed, and this first observation would continue to haunt me. In every European city I have been to, there is a club, a place to meet for fat white women and African men. (It would be wrong for me to put this burden solely on the shoulders of the African man. No. This burden must be shared with many other foriegners in Europe. However, I am using the African man as my main example because this is my experience)
Many times this topic would creep up, unintentionally. Consider these examples,
Example number 1
I was talking to a friend of mine whose past relationships have comprised of only foriegners. Mostly, Africans. She describes herself as being plump. In many circles, she would be described as "overweight". In this discussion, she said quite plainly, that the reason she has only been with foriegners is because she was "plump" and African men like "plump" women. Mind you, she came up with this topic herself without any influence from my side. To all this, I just smiled and shrugged.
Example number 2
I was sitting on the train, reading my book, minding my own business. A very cute bi racial little girl sat opposite me with her mum. She is one of those kids that just radiates happiness and in no time, the whole cabin was captivated by her beauty and innocence. Including the enormously huge woman sitting on the other side. The only time I had seen such huge people have been on documentaries about the obesity epidemic in the States. Anyway, this really huge woman began to talk to the little girl's mum(that whole conversation is a post on its own but here, it will just be a summary).She said she had threee kids herself and that their "fathers" were from West Africa...well, two were from W.A and the last one from Bangladesh. You can imagine my eyes were wide at this point.I am never one to judge a person's body...but this woman, it was impossible not to be amazed. And then, lo and behold, she says "I can only go out with foriegners, they are the only ones that will have me. NOBODY WANTS ME". I am not making this up. She actually said that, and other stuff as well.
Example number 3
I was invited quite recently to go to a reggae club with workmates.I had not been in one for ages and so a night of only reggae music sounded quite lovely. We arrived at the club around 12 or so, and still, it seemed we had arrived quite early. The dance floor was empty and there were just three or four men at the bar. The music however, was on full blast. Let me cut to the chase. I can not be bothered with the details at this point. Lets just say, in a matter of an hour, the club looked like a meeting center for female sumo wrestlers.
So, for some reason, word must have spread that African men like fat women. But...is this true? Is this really the reason why so many fat white women end up with African men?
There are many aspects here to consider. Take for instance, the issue of "PAPERS". Many immigrants are desperate enough to fake love (quite sad, but true) to a citizen for the sole purpose of acquiring their "papers". Is it easier for papers to be acquired from a fat white woman than a thin one? In my opinion, the answer is YES. I have met a couple of these women and it amazed me how easily they accepted love. They were hungry for love. And who can blame them? Who does not want to be made love to? Who does not want a man to look at you and say "you are beautiful"?
They are quick to accept the fantasy world of "I love you more than my mother", and other romantic lines that I thought had been extinct years ago. However, do I really blame them for accepting love where they find it? Even if it is in the arms of a man who might leave them one day? No, I do not blame them. We must all do what we can to get through our days. It is better to have loved than not to have loved at all, they say...
But what about the fact that it is quite impossible for these women to go to the normal discos? I mean, lets face it. The normal club today is filled with size zero skinny girls in tight outfits. Who wouldnt feel self conscious in such places? that would be like committing suicide.Clubs are not friendly places for fat people. Thats the truth. Its very environment exudes slenderness and sexiness. When you think about it that way, well, they too have a right to enjoy themselves. Reggae clubs and African clubs are quite relaxed about clothes and so on...nobody cares, as far as you are ready to have a good time. In that sense, then we should be proud of these clubs since everybody of every size is welcome. Thats a good thing. The acceptance of all people.
Then we have another very obvious fact. The fact that there is also some sort of general knowledge that African men like ass and boobs. Now, the slender white woman will not have ass. Not any fault of theirs, just genetics. The white women that have ass are fat. Therefore, it might be quite logical for the African man to prefer a woman with ass (even though this ass is a result of being "overweight" and not genetics) than a woman without ass. Hence, he might actually really be attracted to a fat white woman than a thin white woman. If ass and boobs were his priority...
But now, let us look at one aspect that bothers me....
What is the number one reason why Nigerian men leave their wives for younger women?
The most common answer would be "she let herself go". In more coarse termes "ehnn, she is fat". This is always the answer. It's the woman's fault of course. So, Nigerian men like their wives looking nice and trim. Failure to do so, gives a free invite to the mistress/girlfriend/secondwife/baby mama. And everybody would blame the wife. After all, is that how he married her? When he married her, she was young and fit and now...just look at her! African men keep going younger and younger. They have wives, girlfriends, mistresses, every one younger than the one before them. What is it they are always looking for? Youth? but what is it that youth comes with? A fit body. One free from stretch marks and layers of fat...
In my opinion, fat white women have got it all wrong. African men, do not necessarily prefer a fat white woman over the average white woman. However, due to circumstances, they are forced to take the fat woman over many others for all sorts of reasons....
The end.
P.S: Feel free to fill in any gaps you think I might have missed.
How many people here live in Europe? There are many, I am sure... and I know, if we are all honest, every single woman here will say "To say the truth, I have noticed it shaaaaaaaa"...so lets begin. Strip yourself of pride and dignity and lets investigate together, this topic.
Now, this anthropological study of mine began many years ago. When I first arrived on this continent, I was nineteen years old and somebody invited me to a club. "What kind of club is it?" I asked. The person replied "A hip hop club" which was quite different because at that time, the only places you could go were "discos". They only played techno, house, or popular music. I mean, now, there are all sorts of clubs, reggae, salsa, etc . Anyway, so, if you wanted to hear something familiar, a hip hop club did not sound bad.
I went there with a couple of friends and I recognised many of the guys there. Nigerian guys and other Africans as well. The club was bouncing. I even recognised the D.J, one Nigerian guy from the technical university. Everybody was having fun, dancing, when all of a sudden, I noticed something. As the night progressed, I began to notice that every white woman that entered the club was fatter than the one before her...I thought this rather odd...why was the club being invaded by fat white women? Did I miss something?
At that time, I was too naive and too young to digest the implications of this observation. I merely danced the night away and forgot about the topic with a shrug of my shoulders...
Years passed, and this first observation would continue to haunt me. In every European city I have been to, there is a club, a place to meet for fat white women and African men. (It would be wrong for me to put this burden solely on the shoulders of the African man. No. This burden must be shared with many other foriegners in Europe. However, I am using the African man as my main example because this is my experience)
Many times this topic would creep up, unintentionally. Consider these examples,
Example number 1
I was talking to a friend of mine whose past relationships have comprised of only foriegners. Mostly, Africans. She describes herself as being plump. In many circles, she would be described as "overweight". In this discussion, she said quite plainly, that the reason she has only been with foriegners is because she was "plump" and African men like "plump" women. Mind you, she came up with this topic herself without any influence from my side. To all this, I just smiled and shrugged.
Example number 2
I was sitting on the train, reading my book, minding my own business. A very cute bi racial little girl sat opposite me with her mum. She is one of those kids that just radiates happiness and in no time, the whole cabin was captivated by her beauty and innocence. Including the enormously huge woman sitting on the other side. The only time I had seen such huge people have been on documentaries about the obesity epidemic in the States. Anyway, this really huge woman began to talk to the little girl's mum(that whole conversation is a post on its own but here, it will just be a summary).She said she had threee kids herself and that their "fathers" were from West Africa...well, two were from W.A and the last one from Bangladesh. You can imagine my eyes were wide at this point.I am never one to judge a person's body...but this woman, it was impossible not to be amazed. And then, lo and behold, she says "I can only go out with foriegners, they are the only ones that will have me. NOBODY WANTS ME". I am not making this up. She actually said that, and other stuff as well.
Example number 3
I was invited quite recently to go to a reggae club with workmates.I had not been in one for ages and so a night of only reggae music sounded quite lovely. We arrived at the club around 12 or so, and still, it seemed we had arrived quite early. The dance floor was empty and there were just three or four men at the bar. The music however, was on full blast. Let me cut to the chase. I can not be bothered with the details at this point. Lets just say, in a matter of an hour, the club looked like a meeting center for female sumo wrestlers.
So, for some reason, word must have spread that African men like fat women. But...is this true? Is this really the reason why so many fat white women end up with African men?
There are many aspects here to consider. Take for instance, the issue of "PAPERS". Many immigrants are desperate enough to fake love (quite sad, but true) to a citizen for the sole purpose of acquiring their "papers". Is it easier for papers to be acquired from a fat white woman than a thin one? In my opinion, the answer is YES. I have met a couple of these women and it amazed me how easily they accepted love. They were hungry for love. And who can blame them? Who does not want to be made love to? Who does not want a man to look at you and say "you are beautiful"?
They are quick to accept the fantasy world of "I love you more than my mother", and other romantic lines that I thought had been extinct years ago. However, do I really blame them for accepting love where they find it? Even if it is in the arms of a man who might leave them one day? No, I do not blame them. We must all do what we can to get through our days. It is better to have loved than not to have loved at all, they say...
But what about the fact that it is quite impossible for these women to go to the normal discos? I mean, lets face it. The normal club today is filled with size zero skinny girls in tight outfits. Who wouldnt feel self conscious in such places? that would be like committing suicide.Clubs are not friendly places for fat people. Thats the truth. Its very environment exudes slenderness and sexiness. When you think about it that way, well, they too have a right to enjoy themselves. Reggae clubs and African clubs are quite relaxed about clothes and so on...nobody cares, as far as you are ready to have a good time. In that sense, then we should be proud of these clubs since everybody of every size is welcome. Thats a good thing. The acceptance of all people.
Then we have another very obvious fact. The fact that there is also some sort of general knowledge that African men like ass and boobs. Now, the slender white woman will not have ass. Not any fault of theirs, just genetics. The white women that have ass are fat. Therefore, it might be quite logical for the African man to prefer a woman with ass (even though this ass is a result of being "overweight" and not genetics) than a woman without ass. Hence, he might actually really be attracted to a fat white woman than a thin white woman. If ass and boobs were his priority...
But now, let us look at one aspect that bothers me....
What is the number one reason why Nigerian men leave their wives for younger women?
The most common answer would be "she let herself go". In more coarse termes "ehnn, she is fat". This is always the answer. It's the woman's fault of course. So, Nigerian men like their wives looking nice and trim. Failure to do so, gives a free invite to the mistress/girlfriend/secondwife/baby mama. And everybody would blame the wife. After all, is that how he married her? When he married her, she was young and fit and now...just look at her! African men keep going younger and younger. They have wives, girlfriends, mistresses, every one younger than the one before them. What is it they are always looking for? Youth? but what is it that youth comes with? A fit body. One free from stretch marks and layers of fat...
In my opinion, fat white women have got it all wrong. African men, do not necessarily prefer a fat white woman over the average white woman. However, due to circumstances, they are forced to take the fat woman over many others for all sorts of reasons....
The end.
P.S: Feel free to fill in any gaps you think I might have missed.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Nice...
I am going to have such a nice day! I am free today. First, I am going to jog then I am going to buy some fruits and head to the swimming pool. Then, I 'll go off to the city to buy some CDs with songs that have been in my head all weekend.
You should all know that I am doing so well.
Everything is just okay. I don't think I will ever forget this summer. Summer when my body and mind finally got in balance!
I am just on another level...
I guess its true what they say. Just see those intense moments of struggle as "growth" and perhaps things will not look so negative when we are in our personal struggles...but gosh! I have to admit, its been one hell of a ride!
Creatively...oh Lord! I think I am a genius or something....hehehehehehe nobody has just discovered it yet...hehehehe...joking!
But I am not too bothered. Life is not only about art. Life is for living as well. Where would one get inspiration for art if you don't live?
Peace, people.
You should all know that I am doing so well.
Everything is just okay. I don't think I will ever forget this summer. Summer when my body and mind finally got in balance!
I am just on another level...
I guess its true what they say. Just see those intense moments of struggle as "growth" and perhaps things will not look so negative when we are in our personal struggles...but gosh! I have to admit, its been one hell of a ride!
Creatively...oh Lord! I think I am a genius or something....hehehehehehe nobody has just discovered it yet...hehehehe...joking!
But I am not too bothered. Life is not only about art. Life is for living as well. Where would one get inspiration for art if you don't live?
Peace, people.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
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