Saturday, 22 December 2007
One of my short stories
“There is a wave of stupidity that crosses the regions in the tropics” he explained,
as he drew an invisible line in the air that demarcated the north temperate zones from the
tropics. His cheeks that usually looked bulbous, now had a flat appearance as he
enlightened the listeners on the backwardness of Africa, most especially Nigeria. “All
third world countries have the same brand of stupidity” he said with a grin on his face.
Josephine, whose new pride was being married to him, could not agree more. She placed
her arms that had the color of white chocolate over his shoulders, and for a moment, she
thanked Jesus that her white mother had insisted on leaving Jamaica. The thought of her
walking the streets of Kingston, because of her father’s love for his home gave her mixed
feelings. These mixed feelings bordered between victory in living the west and
amusement of what she would have turned out to be if she lived in Jamaica. She
loved his ebullience that sparked as he spoke of his homeland, Nigeria. He smiled as
Josephine winked at him. He knew what she was thinking in her head. He was convinced
that her adoration for him resonated in her head like a John Legend song. And that gave
him more drive to speak on, as he waved his arms and described to the listeners who were
all Canadian, of the corruptness of his people. He also did not forget to mention the
several cultures that were just evidence of his people’s foolishness.
The Canadians had enjoyed his rant. And one of them had remarked how
theatrical he looked, as he gestured and raised his voice. They were surprised to see him
speak so loudly and unrestrained. The Canadians had never seen so much passion in him,
except when he spoke about the new projects that had potentials for huge profit. May ,
the only female among the Canadians giggled flirtatiously as she commented on how he
spoke badly of his homeland. While, the males laughed loudly as they stood under a tent
peeking at him, the Nigerian and Josephine. May laughed harder almost spilling the
Alexander Keith’s beer on her denim pants, as she remarked on his trying to separate
himself from the stupidity he claimed his people had. One of the males, who was drunk
and had temporarily lost the Canadian politeness, stated that Africans were undoubtedly
primitive but the Nigerian man did not need to state to obvious to them. Their hysterical
laughter slowly dimmed as they all agreed to themselves that what the Nigerian man had
said only proved that guilty notion they had of Africa.
Soon he and Josephine walked up to the Canadians who were about to leave the
artificial palm-leaved tent that stood mismatched in between two tall buildings. He
looked up at the fourth floor of the building, with his eyes focused on the room where his
office was located. A smile was stamped on his face as he spoke to the Canadians.
“The sculpture is beautiful, and what remarkable detail it has” May said, trying to
conceal the guilt she felt on mocking the Nigerian and his homeland. He looked up to the
sculpture that was hung on the wall to give the tent a wild and more African look. He then
smiled briefly at May and turned again to see the sculpture ,which was a replica of a Yoruba
bronze head. The hollow eyes and metallic luster of the bronze head reminded him of his history
classes back in Nigeria. A black framed picture of him sitting in a class and listening to a
lecture on the lost wax-casting process, formed in his head. He could remember his
teacher describe this technique of creating bronze sculptures from wax, brass and clay.
These sculptures that were intricate in their structure and creation techniques that date back to
the 6th and 12th century had intrigued his teenage and impressionable mind. Slowly, the black
framed picture faded in his head. He turned away from the bronze sculpture and continued his
conversation with his Canadian friends.
Friday, 14 December 2007
Revamping....
Sunday, 28 October 2007
YAHOOZEE
The long awaited yahoozee video. This song is just a feel good song that makes u feel like u're worth a million bucks. The video's okay, still ama sere, jaiye,..eh yahoozee lol. Guys leave ur comments
Sunday, 7 October 2007
OJUJU IS COMING
Thursday, 27 September 2007
Porn Palaver II
Saturday, 22 September 2007
Friday, 14 September 2007
Fimisile- leave me alone....yay..I can speak yoruba
My classes have been just there. I feel bored in most of them, owing to the fact that it's like I'm learning stuff, I've heard before. Still. I know it's going be better, when we get deeper into the courses.
I'm presently listening to Sunny Neji's Prisoner of love. And, love songs definitely sound differently to me these days. I now understand what Ne yo meant when he said he was sick of love songs. Love, love, love, so many people(which I belong to) really use that word inappropriately. Is it just a physical attraction to someone? or just a deep connection to someone. Unarguably, infatuation can be mistaken for love. They're like cousins. Anyway, have to go now, my roomate just brought this crazy and hallucinatory alcohol drink ever (that didn't sound right. Right?). I'm not drinking though (there's a shot of irony in this sentence). Peace people!!!!!!
Tuesday, 4 September 2007
Fire On The Mountain - asa
Asa is back with this original video and good song. I'd love her to add those sweet yoruba melodies to her song though.
Saturday, 1 September 2007
History X
Back to the title History X, even if a huge number of us (which I am included in) don't have a deep understanding of our Nigerian history. it is still undeniable that we have a history of a whole lotta bad things. Even after our independence as a nation, legacies have being passed down from generation to another. Unarguably, these legacies are filled with the very infamous and sly corruption, bad leadership, poor and unproductive mentalities and so on. If you go down through our political, social and religious history, the legacies that have been passed down are just terrible. Change can not just occur, we have to enforce it and transfer it from one generation to another. My generation will provide leaders of our country, and imagine these same future leaders claiming that when they get to power, they are going to steal enough money. And these future leaders sugar coat their plans by saying they'll steal but still help. Yeah yeah!! we all know money is intoxicating, once they start, it's the end. The main reason why such mentality is in the minds of young people (which I belong to), is because we have inherited legacies our elders have given to us. We cannot blame our elders for all our problems, because we as individuals that belong to families, we as individuals that are brothers, sisters, cousins have the responsiblity to set examples for our young ones watching us closely and ever hungry to learn something from us. I used to think, that as an individual, I could do and say anything I wanted even with my siblings watching. But the truth is that they learn a lot from what I do. Though, I cannot be perfect, but at least, I could be responsible.
Saturday, 25 August 2007
If Anne Frank had a blog
Anne Frank's diary of her last years, helped and saved these teenagers from the anger they felt inside. Still I wonder what this young lass would write if she had a blog, like most people reading this now.
Saturday, 18 August 2007
Porn Palaver
My head right now is in a riot of issues to blog about. But, I'm going to take it slow, bringing out these issues slowly.
If you are very conversant with what's happening in Nigeria, you might have come across this news. It talks about an hausa movie star(you didn't know they made movies right?) who is been accused of being in a porn flick. While, her partner is really not featured in the news, he is rather named as witheld. Typical right? I don't like being tribalistic and generalizing, but most people from the north are plain sexist. Surprisingly, they are proud of it, and do not realize any depravity in this sexist culture. Sexism is present in every part of Nigeria. It is embedded in our culture, even if it differs in its gravity from one place to another. The overall fact is that most tribes in Nigeria put men and women into certain roles. Even if the Yoruba culture is one of the few cultures in Nigeria that is less sexist, as every gender is entitled to the same things, but we still subject each gender to certain roles. You can't really argue that it is bad, as men and women are different in many aspects, and it is only human for us to assign them into roles based on these differences. The west that we use as a yard stick for measuring what is fundamentally right also puts people into roles based on gneder. Even if they are at a certain level of gender equality, they still assign people to certain roles, based on gender
Back to the juicier issue on hausa porn. The women are always blamed in such cases by the Sharia system, while we never hear anything about the men. I have gotten to know a few hausa men, and the way they regard women in general is quite appalling. I remeber when we had a gateman, and he got into arguement with me on the way women caress men who are not their husbands all in the name of movies. As for me who even thought the romance and sex scenes in Nigerian movies are crap. I was surprised to see that he was offended by it. It was through him that I saw my first hausa movie (never trying it again). There were no sex or romance scenes. That didn't bother me, but the fact that if there was, this guy was going to be angry not at the couple but the woman. We have heard of various cases of women accused of adultery or fornication, and are to be stoned to death. And most northerners I have met are in support of it.
Well, guys that's Nigeria for you, it's so complex with many problems. Hopefully, there will be an end to all these nonsense we hear.
Monday, 30 July 2007
MOVE YOUR BODY
d banj's new video with the guys from mo ht records. Tight video for naija standards.
Friday, 20 July 2007
Me and the rest of them
There is always this constant battle between individualism and communalism. The former allows one to make choices based on his personal reasons and learn from those mistakes, while the latter usually does not give room for those mistakes, as you are expected the follow the laid out rules the community has set up. They both have their pros and cons. Although, individualism is often blamed for causing people to stick in their sometimes destructive shells thereby fostering anti-social behaviors(which is common in the west), while communalism puts pressure on people to place their society in high esteem, even more than themselves.
Still on the topic, and on Things fall apart, there is a part of the novel which I think depicts this topic.
Does anyone remember where Nwoye (Okonkwo's son) experiences an epiphany. On hearing the Christians preach, he embraces this new religion not for its teachings ,but the simple fact that it answers the personal and deep question plaguing him. He connects a hymn of two brothers who were in darkness, to his friendship with Ikemefuna. His personal choice to become christian and shun his community's beliefs enrages everyone, as he is seen as a traitor. Finally, I believe that a fusion of these two ideologies in moderation, can create a stable, free, and well knit society.
Saturday, 14 July 2007
Your side of the bar
I had this random memory of when I was writing my exams in high school. I peered at my friend's work (malpractice) to see what he was doing. What I saw made me laugh my ass off, that I was lucky, I wasn't caught.
Here is his answer to this question
Ways of controlling vector insects
Use of insecticides----good
Use of sleeping nets----good
Clapping with hands-----ahhh
Sunday, 8 July 2007
SNEAK PREVIEW 5(I think)..
I opened the newspaper and to my surprise I see a column saying a 3 year old british girl had been kidnapped in Port harcourt while she was being taken to school. WHAT!!! I couldn't believe that she was kidnapped by militants while the car was in a traffic jam. The fact that PH city(where I live) is this unsafe scares the shit out of me. Last year my dad called to tell me that parts of shell camp (where I hung out sometimes) was bombed by militants. The question of how a little girl could be kidnapped in broad day light, and ransom is being requested, bothers me. Well, its Nigeria and we have a way of surviving this things. Yes, God protect my family,when they are in PH.
Wednesday, 4 July 2007
Banky--Ebute Metta- Umbrella Naija Remix
I heard this and I think it sounds good and funny...ebute metta metta...lol..sampling rihanna's umbrella
K....NOW I'M STUCK
Saturday, 30 June 2007
BEST NAIJA MUSIC VIDEOS
Fight to win
Femi kuti the undisputed speaker of the people(hmmmn) and the flag bearer of nigerian music has fought to win the spot of no 1 video. It's a classic video which I can show to anyone
cRY by Modenine
This video tells the saddening story of the song. It's well put together and has an international appeal
Weird MC - Ijoya
Wierd MC makes animation lool cool and hip in this video. Ijoya awan lan ni joya lol
Why me - Dbanj
What will a video chart be without the very enigmatic d banj. The Koko master and his crew did a good job in this video.
olori oko - infinity
I remember when I was about to leave Naija, and this video came out. It's not a very sharp or cutting edge video. But, the sound and the ethnicity of the video makes it smashing
Friday, 29 June 2007
Never Far Away
This video is on point. The location Abeokuta is jaw dropping with the vivid colours. The vocals from Ego matches with sharpness of this video. It's a clear example of fusing Nigerian culture with western culture.
p-square temptation
This video is a cool video,that personifies p square and their sampling antics. Still, it's cool to watch.
STYL PLUS- OLUFUNMI (Nigerian Music)
When I saw this video and heard the song, I felt naija music was changing for the better. And it's videos like this took the bar higher for the Naija music scene.
2FACE : African Queen
This video which is quite unrecent and not so technologically advanced looks crisp and will meet any standard whether mtv or soundcity. And not forgetting, its african queen awesome song (mtv music video award...tired of hearing this though)
Monday, 25 June 2007
When Abiku met Zeus
When Abiku met Zeus
The brown grass shriveled in fear as her feet thumped on it
It has lost its essence. Its greenness is now hidden in the dry and grey pelt of pain
Her eyes roll in pride as she is oblivious to the curse she leaves behind
Even the cold and skin sucking wind becomes a storm on trying to caress her legs
Legs longer and straighter than the stream that meanders through our homeland, move in unison to the clump of her hair bundled like compressed black wool.
The sounds of the bronze anklets precariously tied to her ankles and the sobs of the children
Serve as music that inspire her rhythmic moves
Yes, her hips sway moving to the strands of coral beads
Picked from the shores of the sea, where childrens’ tears flow
Yet, her eyes do not loose focus of staring at her reflection on the scarlet sea
Taking glances at the tear impregnated eyes of the children
Leaving a quick impression of captivity in their heads.
"This is our chance" won’t even trickle out from the splintered lips of the children
Their mothers will stand helpless behind the mahogany tree
Even their fathers will be held still, as their spears get blunted by Abiku’s palms
Their gun powder will not burn to propel the wooden sticks that mere mortals dread
They should have known better.
The trees were wiser as they let their branches sway to Abiku’s call
The sea had foresight, as to pour libations at the feet of Abiku
The sea even cast its harvest of fingerlings
Abiku dances casting pain at the enlarged belly’s of the mothers
Waiting patiently for their unborn,
The mothers tighten their hands to their talismans, reciting their prayers
Still dreading the inevitable.
The sound echoes through the dark walls of the chambers
Pillars that hold the slate roof tremble
The foundation lying majestically on the smoky and fluffy clouds
shake as it tries to call out Zeus’s name.
His roar conquers all ears that fail to be covered
His horses pace swiftly, trying to lessen the pain from Zeus’s whip
The steel wheels held to the chariots sculptured by Persian gods
Move over huge clumps of cloud that pass for rocks
His voice startles the eagles that have come to revere him
Thunder bolts tear through the clouds as he roars in anger
All who have failed him are now stemmed to ground as they are lifeless
Like the rocky facade they now possess
Yet, she failed him, The thought intesifies his anger
His eyes gleam in red as he hurries to the traitor who dare defies his wife
His hay-like silver hair shines through the paths that have been darkened
By the ashes from the thunder bolts
The sun starved roses that now creep around Mount Olympus,
Twirl in pity for the traitor
But, Zeus rides ahead, with revenge in his eyes
Soon the wrath of his anger shall befall he that deserves it,
The smell of the traitor clings his nose.
The deed shall soon be done
Suddenly, the rattling of the anklet
The clapping of flesh and singing of beads draw his ears.
He halts, bringing the horses to a rest
He peers through the shrubs on the mahagony tree
Surprise sculpts the face anger had tampered with
Her coal black skin that glimmered, stole his eyes
Beauty like this had eluded him through out his timeless existence
He leaps off his chariot still not seizing her attention
He held her hands and she turned to him, not even venerating his presence
She breaks loose from his hands, and disappears into the woods
He chases her leaving all behind
Finally, he grabbed her and she submits to his powers
A union they formed as they vanished from all of existence
I was watching videos on youtube and came across these short films. I guess they were shown on mnet, and I found them quite interesting and real.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=2LlrHpiPZn4
http://youtube.com/watch?v=lYa2PS1itIo
Thursday, 21 June 2007
Sneak preview 4
Monday, 18 June 2007
Sneak Preview
Tuesday, 12 June 2007
SNEAK PREVIEW 2
Saturday, 9 June 2007
My night with David
Friday, 1 June 2007
Sneak Preview
Wednesday, 30 May 2007
In a 100 years
Monday, 28 May 2007
IDOLS WEST AFRICA: Inspiring
Friday, 25 May 2007
FIGHT THE POWER
He is one of the few activist in Nigeria that I was familiar with, since I was a kid when he was in active duty. Since, I lived in Port harcourt, his name resounded during the Abacha era and in my house. He was an environmentalist, television producer, and author who was against the destruction and deprivation of the Ogoni land due to the oil exploration. He was executed under the Abacha government.
Chief Obafemi Awolowo who I must mention is from Ikenne Ogun State( where I am from), lead the action group. He believed in Nigeria's independence and nationalism.
Not forgetting greats like Nnamdi Azikiwe, Dele Giwa and so on who opened their voices, so that things could change positivelhy for the Nigerian society. The one way we can repay these people is continue their legacy.
Monday, 21 May 2007
The voyeurs in our midst
Oju
I could swear someone was behind that wall, piercing me with his eyes. The wind isn’t blowing
the way it is supposed to. Someone is interfering with it. I know that I am not seeing things, when
I see a silhouette cast on the steel ceilings. It is fleeting and acting like a shy bride that is meeting
her groom for the first time. But, don’t be fooled by that calm face and subdued eyes, those
talons strike like hunger.
“When will you stop staring at that cameras” Tolu burst out. I knew she was
disgusted by my loss of focus. She was whispering to me on her ravings on the
government. She spoke in a manner that I only heard her. No one certainly wanted those
venomous chameleons to hear us. Yet, Tolu told me, how she wished she could see a
butterfly again. She holds me close to her, tears trapped in her in sullen eyes. I knew what
she was thinking. She wished she could see our father again. I close my eyes; I sure did
not want everyone to see me cry. Not here! Certainly not in this ravenous gathering.
Those beasties are still staring at me, watching my every move. I certainly will not give
them the pleasure of seeing me cry. “We are on our own now” Tolu says. I nod my head
in agreement. It is funny how time can be so cruel. One minute I am sitting in the park
playing catch with my father and sister, the next two years I am here in this camp with
my sister. It never was really good anyway. But, it was far better than this. At least, I
could go anywhere, without being chased by these voyeuristic chameleons. My father
would open the newspapers, and rave all he wanted, but now, Tolu can’t rave openly
from newspapers. There are no newspapers, those things are constitutions. There’s no
freedom here, neither is there west. They came like wind and we all danced to their tune
like branches sway to spring breeze. “How did all these happen?” Tolu whispers
covering her mouth. I look at her with an empty face. She isn’t surprised either, she just
pats my head. I know we were all too greedy to see. That life was too perfect to refuse, at
least by our standards. No work, no struggle, we all lay on our backs. We were fed like
dogs owned by the elites. We were all blind to see what would befall us. Those
chameleons placed fear in our food. By this time it was too late, they were masters, and
we were slaves.
The chimes moan, as we all sit, expecting supper. We are all having soup. I know
that. In fact, that is what we have the days the chime rings thrice. The older people are
resting their backs to the walls. Their eye bags impregnated with grief. One would expect
that their skins would have gotten stuck to the walls. They stayed there all day. Even after
Tolu had come back from tilling the field with other adolescents, she still saw them there.
When I come back from the concentration schools, I still met them there. I guess that is
why they are tagged “reliant”, while Tolu and the rest “tiller”. Tolu hated to till the fields.
She would whisper to me, on how there is so much from the fields, but little for us to eat.
We all queued as soup was served.. I really didn’t know if it was tomato or mushroom
soup, it was just soup. I sipped the soup, not expecting my tongue to wallow in sinful
pleasures. This days,my stomach is of higher priority than my tongue. Tolu didn’t look
up, she kept gulping the soup. One of the older men stared into my eyes, while sipping
his soup. He didn’t look at his hands. He really didn’t need to look to steer his spoon, the
soup was cold. He looked at me and then stared at the cameras. “Oju” he blurted. He
looked down into his soup, like he was expecting a chunk of meat. He raised his head to
me and said “the eyes have ears”. After lunch, the chameleons took him. The executioner was sure to have a thrill tonight
Friday, 18 May 2007
DID YOU KNOW!!!
OMO
The night was drawing near. Its arms were soon going to embrace mother earth. Even the sun was no where to be seen. "This is our chance" she kept whispering to her baby. The faith she had was too strong that she spoke to a baby who was not only deaf from his inexperience with words, but also from the horrific sounds of war. Her legs kept swaying but her head had no idea of its destination. The baby fastened to her back was a burden. But, she cared less. After all, she was running for him. She was tired of that place. It wasn’t home any longer. The thought of her choice kept ringing in her ears. The thoughts clogged her ears, that she failed to hear the voice of the incoming mob. They were furious, each with eyes stinging with hate. They held their batons and spiked edged clubs ready to devour. She stood under the frangipani tree, watching the scarred chested men. Her face had no expression, it was vague. Even her eyes were lax in unconcern. She wasn’t moved my their masked expressions of hate. She had seen it all before. They yelled at her swinging their clubs and batons near her. She didn’t utter any word. Then, a man walked out amidst the crowd. He was stern looking with a tribal marked that traveled from the ridge of his nose to his jaws. He walked towards her with his face focused on her baby. She saw this and turned her back, so her baby wouldn’t see his face. He sensed this and smiled briefly. He surveyed her body like she was a map work. He walked around her mimicking the oblivious mosquito that spun around her baby’s head. She wasn’t a beauty, certainly, if he was to judge from now. But, he had so much experience with women as to see that she once possessed a striking beauty. Her sullen eyes and ridged lips could already tell her story. "Woman, where are you coming from and where’s your husband"he asked. She didn’t utter any word, neither did she look at him. She just kept staring at the red ground. The mobsters wondered what sort of woman wouldn’t reply their leader. "Aren’t you afraid" one of them yelled. She still didn’t answer. Her silence was too piercing for him to bear. She made him look too stupid for a man. Suddenly, he raged at her, grabbing her baby by his neck. She yelled and pushed herself from his grasp. The wrapper she used in fastening her baby to herself, flew off her dead breast.Her eyes were suddenly filled with tear soaked rage. She threw herself into red ground with her arms wrapped around her baby. The man stood watching her with shock and a masked pity. He swallowed very discreetly a lump of saliva . He didn’t utter any word but wondered what pain would befall a woman, for her to act in such a manner. The background noise from the mobsters rioted with the pity he had for this woman. He turned to them and yelled for them to be quiet. They suddenly stopped barking. He held his hands towards her. She didn’t move. He smiled at her in a peaceful way, revealing a set of tainted white and chipped teeth. She took his hands and he raised her up. The baby cried as the man tried to hold his arms. He was used to weeping at the sight of men. This was no different.
As she sat facing the burning and chattering fire wood, she wondered who the mobsters were. They were probably the freedom fighters who fought against the chameleons. The night had finally come. Its scintillating yet conniving arms swept through her skin, as she shielded it from her baby. It reminded her that she couldn’t stay in the same spot. The chameleons would get her. She had to keep on running.