sometime in april

and so it happened, April,.....the month after March. The Easter month,.....lent over, we can laugh again, & be merry again. drink and get drunk,......eat and get full. yes,....we can be merry again.
going through my blackberry contacts, I see a picture on one of my friends' display window. the face is familiar,...."Obum,...who's this guy? wasnt he in your department in uni", to this Obum replied, "he was shot dead a few days ago by armed robbers & I just saw him 2weeks back. he always adviced me to remember to pray". Obum was crying on the other end of this chat.
it shocked me,......and everytime I saw Obum change his display picture to another one of his pics, with the personal message: 'RIP, I cant stop crying', it pricked me, like a little hungry child tugging on his father's shirt, I was trying to be reminded of the grim one,....but as most "tired" parents would, I did my best to brush it off, and stay focused. I did my best to ignore.....I was doing such a good job of it till,.....it hit closer to home. you know that little kid I just spoke about now, tugging on his father's shirt, & was ignored? Lets just say, this time he tore the shirt off my back on a chilly cold night. I couldnt ignore anymore,....death was realer this time, as it snatched an old friend of mine, that just lived 2 streets from my house in Lagos, he was my age,.....he just turned 28, a few days later he was gone. slumped, coma, life support, awake, dead.I didnt know when tears came to my eyes,.....like a pick pulling on guitar string, my tear ducts pinched my eyeballs. the cliche question kept swirling in my head like the pungent smoke from a rotten sacrifice. Polluting my head with questions,........rhetorical questions, that I can never answer. he was so young, so intelligent,.....so cheerful......WHY?!!!! My day was ruined, & my mood was absolutely shattered. I trudged hopelessly on my usual 15mins trek, past telegraph park, to new cross gate, where I board a bus to Uni..... all the time, thinking,....pondering,....and fighting the tears. School seemed useless. why am I going to school? I'm still going to die, innit? "Depression" hounded me non-stop and I wanted to be left alone. Class just seemed like a bad theater show I had to endure. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I couldn't cry......not now,....not here, but on my trek back home I did. ipod earphones plugged into my ears, I belted tracks from eminem (was his favorite artist). I could picture my friend's face, smiling widely and hoping around, as was his usual giddy character. He was indeed a character, a really cheerful lad. Tears streamed down my face, as I knew, this my friend would soon be placed in a box, and then buried in the ground, and covered with dug up sand. It cant be true,.........I'm sure he's still alive, if they try to bury him, he'll hop out of the casket,.......and if he doesn't wake up before they do,......they should leave the grave open cos he might wake up later, and then he'll be able to come out of the grave. Thinking about it now, it sounds crazy,.....but what am I to think? I just cant believe he's dead, it's hard to understand, and its hard to believe.
But I guess, I just have to believe what everyone says.......I have to believe he's dead and gone. I guess its about time, I faced my fears.
Thinking about it now,.........I see no reason to cry, actually I think it should be the other way round. Believing in life after death, and hoping they made it to heaven, I'm sure my friend, as well as the other people we have lost, would be having a laugh when they look at us, trudging on like zombies, besotted with daily challenges and sometimes seeming inextricable problems. Our lives, where we wake every morning, and march to work, to be able to pay mounting bills, and as we get more successful, our paranoia increases in direct proportion, almost always in fear of the unknown. Where we all seek something that seems so mundane, yet so hard to get, something so intangible, yet we want to hold on to forever. We seek happiness and peace so much, but yet we cry for those who have left us and found peace. I'm not saying we should laugh and celebrate losing a loved one, but rather we should mourn and then remember that, they have found happiness, and we are the ones searching. Looking at this from the other end, I'm not suggesting we should commit suicide, in a bid to find happiness, but being that we are still alive, we should make the best of our time here, and stop looking for happiness in the big things, and setting huge targets, but instead take out time, and be happy with the people we care about the most, put that smile on your mom's face, watch that sport's game with your dad, and enjoy the banter, spend time with your family, and build bridges that might have previously been destroyed. Life is too short for bearing grudges.
Drop the pills and drugs you take, to fight your depression, stop pushing the ones you love the most away from you, because your scared to face personal fears. Find happiness and hold on to it. In the words of Ghandi, the two things no one can take away from you without your permission are your will and your peace of mind. Find it and live happy.

bare feet on the hot african sand

The ogene (local gong) is beating, the rhythm familiar, the dancer even more familiar,
everyone's been waiting for this day, its been on everyone's lips for the past four market weeks. Highly anticipated, & the fanfare that antecedes the occasion is tangible in the crowd that gathered, as the various recherché masquerades & local dancers gyrate rhythmically, cocooning the village square with the dust raised. The drum beats harder, the ojadike (local flutist) plays on, shaking his head from left to right with a smile on, as he acknowledges the cheers of the clearly appreciative crowd.
Hours pass on, and the various dance groups gradually end their performances. The sun is fully out, and as the dust settles, she appears. Though the foggy atmosphere, her silhouette is seen. Curvy & slim, she sashays slowly forward. The crowd is silent as the drummer starts to beat to the slow tune of the ojadike. She makes her way through the haze & she is fully visible in all her splendor. She is the beautiful Isioma, last daughter of the widower, ichie Emembolu. Barely 15, her full womanly features contrast her tender age. Its her ravishing beauty that caught the eye of the ageing king Igwe Ochiagha, who sits on the throne, in front of the gathering. He smiles pollyannaishly, because afterall, its his wedding introduction ceremony to the beautiful Isioma that is being celebrated today. At the end of today, she'll be his 5th wife, & his most beautiful so far.........so he smiles, he smiles gleefully.
............she cries, she cries regrettably. She cries when she remembers her heartrob, Obiekene. The young hunter, whom she first loved. Remembering all the times he came around to her family house, bearing gifts of antelopes & wild goats, as well as helping out with setting up her father's barn. He was a brave young man, who was dear to her family, as her father & elder sisters were very fond of him. It was his bravery that proved to be his final undoing. His bravery saw him stand up to refuse the king's request to marry his beautiful Isioma. Igwe Ochiagha is ruthless, even as a septuagenarian, his mercilessness hasn't waned. He saw Obiekene's refusal as an affront, & as he usually dealt with obstinate oppositions, he had obiekene ambushed during one of his hunting trips, & he was bludgeoned by 3 of his giant palace guards......Isioma might be young, but she wasnt blind. she knew the Igwe was behind Obiekene's death, & she knew he would stop at nothing to get her. The death threats to her family members, the times at the village river when she looked over her shoulder to find some palace guards hiddens in bushes (stalking her). She knew her life & those of her family members were at stake, so she had to take this bitter pill & marry a man, even older than her father, whom she loved NOT.
As the beats got louder, the dust settled down, & a cloud moved slowly across the sun, she started her traditional marriage dance, & no sooner had she started, that the clouds (as if in sympathy with her) burst into tears, as a slight drizzle of rain came down on this warm african afternoon. The beats were more intense, her dance steps more rigorous, as the king nodded appreciatively. She danced & she cried, as the rain camouflaged her tears. The longer she danced, the more vivid the memories, the harder she cried.........

if only she knew that the gods were watching & sympathetic to her plight. If only she knew that the bloodstained hands of ochiagha would never touch her virgin body, because Ochiagha was to die that very night.

.......................................she cried.

amazing grace

I was desolate, I despaired, I was confused. I turned round, & friends I trusted, threw me to the mercies of the elements. Even when I went out of my way to plead & explain the importance of my request, everyone turned their backs at me, some snickering, some giggling, some scornful, some indifferent. It was a rude shock, but a shock is always necessary. A shock is necessary at times, to jar one to consciousness. A shock makes you realize that what you considered your reality, is actually fantasy built on sentiments. With misfortunes or problems, your friends take of their masks, & you see them for who they are,.......(hmmm,....or is it that you take off your fuzzy glasses, & see who they've always been?)

But then again, hey,....you cant blame anyone. Its their prerogative to assist or not. I can only blame myself, for believing my friends can do for me, what I would have done for them if the tables were turned. I look around forlorn, & from the dark recesses steps forward my friend, who's been there all the while. My friend whom I failed to run to, who I trusted only by word of mouth. He comes to me at this late hour, when all hope is lost. I look to him, with that quizzical look, as if to ask, "can anything be salvaged?" "isnt it already late?" "can anything be done?" & all he says to me is: "trust me". Hmmmmm, what do I stand to lose? So I give it a shot. I trust fully, & take my mind off my issues totally. I've got a short time frame & a huge task, it seems impossible, but i trust. It seems insurmountable, but I trust, & just like the metamorphosis of a caterpillar, I can slowly but gradually see the beautiful butterfly, crack out of the cocoon. I can gradually see my problems, slowly being solved, mysteriously.........miraculously. An issue I have been battling for months, is solved within a few weeks of trusting my good friend. Not only do I get what I ask for, but truly I get even more than what I requested & I'm at a loss for words.

What a friend we have in Jesus. Carrying all our burdens, & making light work of it. Proving time and again, that indeed faith as little as a mustard seed can move the mountains and obstacles in our lives. Faith,........faith is all it takes. True faith, that even when the storm rages, you dont lose hope, you dont lose your cheer, your calm that you've handed over your burdens to the one who is in himself, "ALMIGHTY". He is bigger than what we give him credit for, he is an awesome God & a dear friend.

Amazing grace,.......indeed how sweet the sound.

Oba village, early 1800’s. (fictional excerpt)

It was very late in the night and all that could be heard was the intermittent thunder & the noise of the rain clattering on the dense vegetation & the muddy soil beneath. It had been raining for most of the day & the intensity of the rainfall hadnt reduced, as claypots (that are usually kept outside during rains, by the village women), were long over-flowing with the rain water.

The weather was cool & chilly & at this time of the night, most of the lamps in the huts had been put out, as everyone had gone to sleep (more-so, by the sleep inducing weather of the night). But one particular hut still had its lantern on, & in it was a woman sitting pensively on the edge of her bed. Aprehension was evident in her eyes and she was oblivious to the fact that the little child sleeping in her laps was precariously perched……& GBAM!!!, the child hit the floor, & both mother & child looked at each other (as both were suddenly awakened to consciousness), then slowly & gradually increasing in decibels, the child let out her cry. “Ndoo o….ndoo nwa m, ndoo” (sorry my child,…sorry); those were the words from the mother in an effort to placate the crying baby. The mother’s name is Enyidiya & the baby she was carrying, Adaora. Enyidiya was arguably the prettiest woman in the whole village of Oba. She was tall, dark & quite slim. She had a narrow waist & a curvy figure, and her eyes were like little cat eyes that lit up when she revealed her lovely dentition (her teeth were in line and her canine teeth only on the upper row, slightly longer than the rest). She was indeed beautiful. Were it not for the laws of the land that the Igwe (king) must have a daughter of royal blood as his first wife, he would have happily taken Enyidiya as his queen. But Enyidiya was far from Royal blood. She was the only daughter (& only child) of her mother Mgborie who was married to the late,Ikwu, (a village palm-wine tapper). Even though Mgborie was in no position to refuse the Igwe the hand of her daughter in marriage, she quietly wished her daughter to marry someone else, that wasn’t polygamous, for Enyidiya was all that she has, & she wanted for her to be loved & well catered for by her husband. She knew that  by the next new yam festival, the Igwe would most likely come for Enyidiya’s hand in marriage as his 2^nd wife & she also knew that the current “lolo” (queen of the land), would spite Enyidiya out of jealousy & envy for her ravishing beauty.

Enyidiya was a girl without any airs about her, very humble & dutiful (for it was how her mother raised her) & this furthermore strenghtened the resolve of the mother to find her a suitable husband before the next new yam festival (when the Igwe would choose another wife). She approached the (then) Ezemuo (high priest of the Oracle), explained her situation, made him the offer to marry her daughter & gave him the condition (that he wasn’t to marry another wife). The Ezemuo was a young robust man. He wasn’t anything to talk about in the looks department, but he had a good heart & was revered by the people. Of course he was aware of the beautiful Enyidiya & after hearing Mgborie out, he understood her worries & agreed to her conditions, in the next 9 market days the plans for the marriage were underway & by the 10^th market day, they were married, & so it became that Enyidiya & Ezemuo Okarammadu became man & wife.

On this night though, it wasn’t her history that was heavy on the mind of Adaora, (nor was it her unrelenting rain), but another fear pinched silently at her heart.

tribute or parody?

hello readers,

i ran across a write up on www.jaguda.com , & I felt the need to share it -

happy reading:

Written By Onyeka Nwelue

On the 5th of October, 2012, four young men were beaten up, disgraced, shamed, kicked, machete, wall-eyed, abused, spat at, cursed, tyres sneaked around them and finally burnt in a certain place called Aluu in Rivers State.

They watched themselves die and people also watched them die. They were called thieves. They were killed. Those of us who were not there in Aluu heard different things. We believed almost all the different stories we heard.

This is November. And a movie is made about this gruesome incident that tore hearts apart, shook homes and emotionally enraged Nigerians and the world at large. Many media freaks and junkies, like FabMagazineOnline termed it a ‘tribute’ to the Aluu4, ‘hoping’ the movie ‘isn’t just another money-making ventures for them but first, to truly pay tribute to the ones who lost their lives in that horrendous incident.’

To insist that making a film on such incident is a ‘tribute’ is at once, foolish and ridiculously stupid, because the motive with which the film is being made is not genuine. Before I go on, I will demand that the film idea be completely banned and that the Nigerian Censors Board never allow this particular movie be released anywhere in this country or elsewhere. My fear is that since this is not going to be a true representation of what happened in Aluu, as many people will see the movie as a True Story, the world will only take One Side of the story. Yet, that is not completely my fear.

A very hardworking Nigerian rapper, DaGrin died. A new scam introduced within Nigerian musicians in the name of ‘tribute.’ I refused to see the movie done on him. Many musicians were busy, cashing on the misfortune of his family. Every single artiste who had recorded a song with him in the past saw an opportunity, a very big one at that, to make themselves popular and famous. There was a total misrepresentation of who DaGrin was. In one of his songs, he had pleaded with people, ‘If I die, make you no cry for me.’ There was no single friend of his or fellow musician who respected his wish. People cried in every angle. They could have controlled the crocodile tears, at least, respecting the honest wish of the young artiste who, obviously, felt he would not stay for long, as there are many people who already know when they would die.

Whether or not it’s a tribute, there is something remarkable about Flavour’s Iwe, for Mc Loph who died in a car accident too. There is a story behind the tribute. Flavour would not have made it without Mc Loph. They both knew themselves very well. Flavour had a couch to crash in whenever he visited Lagos. That was in Mc Loph’s house. Mc Loph had where to sleep and eat at in Enugu and that was in Flavour’s house. There was synergy. There was a deep connection to the song and the emotions could be felt from Flavour’s voice in this song. There is genuineness. He did that song because he lost a friend and brother. There was no other intention. If it is not the Truth, I would not find myself listening to the song over 80 times for a week. At a time, it became the only song I felt. Yet, this was not the case for Dagrin and I am very much afraid that this won’t be the case for Aluu4. For how fast they could come up with a deeply emotional tale about the deaths of four young men who were brutally sent to the great beyond, the entire film crew should be questioned!

Those who paid tribute to Dagrin almost played on our emotional feelings. We were deceived, mocked and completely ridiculed. Many of those artistes didn’t even know who Dagrin was until he died. Many of us, just like me, didn’t know Dagrin until we started hearing different voices singing, forcing us to know about this genius who rapped so well that death took him away. I felt that was very disrespectful and if the dead could rise again, Dagrin will be uttermostly disgusted by the fact that no one respected his wish which was that no one should cry for him. Those who rushed to the studios to record songs in memory of Dagrin, to pay ‘tribute’ to him only did so for their selfish interests. There is completely nothing genuine about their tears they are seen shedding in their music videos and wearing black shirts, singing. This is for commercial reasons. For exploiting Dagrin, a huge scam has just happened.

Making a movie on the Aluu4 is like recreating history; it is like charcoaling the Truth. If there is ever Truth, it will be completely diluted and erased. Only one side of the story will be told. Only a perspective will matter. And those who can’t be heard will be made to be Evil. The point is that such movie will not shed light on anything, but pick remnants of everything pummeled by the media. It is like listening to a blind man describe how his face looks. Would you believe him? Wouldn’t you think he is a joker?

The boys who were killed in Aluu have parents. Have you spoken to them? Have you figured out if you are not going to lampoon on their emotions? Have you done enough to be able to write about each character? How long does it take to shoot a movie, talk more of script? Observing characterization? And working towards a true representation of ideas? Does it matter if it was well balanced? Through whose perspective? Those who believe that making a movie on such sensitive issue is a tribute to the dead, are people with no hearts. They are people who would have burnt those young men themselves. They want to see a remake of how it would have been, had they been there. They are vampires.

I am not suggesting that the story of Aluu can not be represented by fiction. My concern is that the media has decided to term it a ‘tribute’ to the Aluu4. Could this be the foolishness of the media? Or that one of the producers of the film was actually there in Aluu when this thing happened and therefore, has decided to tell us about it? Is he not supposed to be with the court, telling of his own side of the story? If finally this movie is made, the producers should be meant to answer some questions, for whatever is transferred onto the screen serves as evidence to the case in question. Whatever is shown to the world as a true story about that incident, will remain TRUE in the hearts of every Nigerian, therefore, it is risky to play with sentiments and the emotions of people who have close ties with the young men murdered.

If nothing is done about this, more scams will be invented in the name of Aluu, more activists will spring up, seeking for ways to make money out of Aluu. Creativity will be bastardised if there is no true or almost exact representation of what happened in Aluu is not shown to the world through this powerful form of art, cinema.

Or do we want to create Gallows of Scammers?

handling disappointments

Disappointment: -

Adj: Feeling of being disappointed; Noun:person or
thing that disappoints.

This is a feeling we all experience every once in a while. Some people resort to heavy drinking & drugs
to try and get over that feeling of disappointment. Depending on the degree, some fall into depression.
I often find myself depressed when faced with disappointment. I go deeper and deeper, blaming the
person behind this feeling & then eventually,…..blaming me (I eventually become an enemy of myself).

Example:

I meet this girl, we fall in love & then start dating. All the while, I try to behave myself (keyword: - “try
to” – LOL), & I encouraged her to do same. I believe her stories and trust her wholly. Eventually, I find
out she’s been lying, & has been feeding me with a completely flase story about herself (past,present
and future).

I found out & was hurt,& after the phone convo with her,I dropped the phone,(& picked up an instant
feeling of disappointment).I fell back down to the bed & started to ponder: “ Damn! I am disappointed
@ her. How could she do this? How could she lie this much? How wrong & callous of her?

Next you start to remember the different incidents & stuff that happened during the relationship &
you start to draw your own conclusions:
“Oh, the other time she told me she was @ so-so n so’s place she wasn’t,…or when she told me she
needed this for that, actually she didn’t, when she told me she had this,…she actually didn’t,n rather she
must have had that……& all THIS she did because of THAT (n not LOVE). I AM DISAPPOINTED IN HER!”

Next you start to feel a different level of disppointment. You become disappointed in the relationship:
“This relationship was a huge mistake…..it was a farce,….I was living a lie,all through the relationship.
THIS RELATIONSHIP WAS A HUGE DISAPPOINTMENT.”

Then lastly, you become disappointed in you. How foolish was I to believe her,…..I should have seen the
signs,….I was ignorant,….I have been taken for a fool,….I shouldn’t have done this/that….I should have
been a whole lot smarter,….I was weak,……I AM DISAPPOINTED IN MYSELF.”
You mentally beat yourself up & blame yourself for it all. That’s where the depression sets in, (n lets not
pretend here, if there’s any alcohol lying about in the house @ the time, you’ll find yourself having this
incredible urge, to knock back a glass/2,….or 5 or more – LOL) & this is where you find yourself looking
for a quick way out of this all.

With this example, we have seen the different stages of disappointment that can be experienced. We
all know that the term disappointment cannot be restricted to just this case, but as earlier stated,
this is just an example, to show an incidence of a disappointing experience. There are various types of
disappointments & several degrees of pain inflicted by them.

So the next question becomes: “how do you overcome a disappointing situation/event, or a
disappointment altogether.

For me: I do 1 thing 1st. I let it run its course. I try to stay away from alcohol (@ this time – n not that I
avoid it altogether, cos I still take my occasional beer once in a while, but when depressed from
disappointment, I avoid it totally. It’s a sign of weakness (trying to stay away frm the facts by getting
drunk, instead of facing them squarely) & it NEVER (keyword: “NEVER”) solves a problem, it only
deceieves you (in your “blurred” state) into believing that it’s solved, but when you’re sober again, the
problem’s still there.
This explains why alcoholics cant seem to stop drinking when depressed , cos they drink(problem
solved), get sober (realise the problem isnt solved), drink(problem solved), get sober (problem unsolved)
…..etc & it becomes a vicious cycle.

So like I said earlier, I let it run its normal course, & I talk to some “GOOD” friends about it. Once I
notice I’m slightly out of the rut, I trace the root of the problem in the 1 st place. In this case it is LOVE
(In some others, it could be trust,…friendship,business etc). I loved her, & when in love you expect
some things from your partner, one of which is HONESTY. I ask my self, was I honest? (YES) & was
she? (NO), then that’s it. I am not to blame for this, she was the one that did wrong n not me.So
once I absolve myself from the blame,then that’s it. But “if”,…you are actually the one 2 blame,…then
talk 2 urslf, n understand that you have really let someone important to you, down. Try and open
communication,…beg and apologise n make up your mind to avoid EVER hurting the person or any1
else that means an ything to you in such a manner…n once all this is done, the most important thing is
to “FORGIVE YOURSELF!”.

15 mins @ the chapel

i foot slogged tiredly under the extremely scorching sun. "wow, is today hot or what?" I kept searching around for someone i was meant to see. he was nowhere to be found,.....well, as his shop was directly opposite the church, & putting everything I've been going through into consideration, I decided to make a quick visit to the church chapel.
got in,.......put my mobile phones on silent,.....& knelt down, eyes looking straight at the Blessed Sacrament exposed at the altar.
then i go into my "chat with God" mode:

i start by praying over things & plans I have for the rest of the month & then, predictably.......I start complaining about how rough things have been so far for me. I complain about all the disappointments, all the heartbreaks, the deals that fell though.........as i complain, i look up at a painted picture of Jesus, & put my self in check. So I make it clear, "dear lord, even all through all this, my faith in you hasn't wavered. I still believe totally in you. but all this is making me doubt myself", & he says to me, "that's the point. i want you to see that by yourself, you cant do it. i want you to believe & depend wholly on me. I want to break you & keep you open to me. I want to mold you, & turn you into something holy & pure. "I then think to myself, hmm,.....we easily say "I believe in God", "I have faith in God", "I put my trust in God", but how many times do we "truly" believe in God? How many times do we leave everything to him & say "you know what, even though its looking entirely bleak, I KNOW that everything'll be perfect tomorrow cos God is TOTALLY in charge."

But yet, I still have some more questions. so I ask, "but why let me go through all this? Isn't it a bit too much?"............"why WATCH me go through all this?". He says again to me "that's the point. I am WATCHING you"......."I watch you when you walk away wearily from a failed business meeting, I watch you when you sit at home, worrying your head till you develop a migraine, I have watched you surprised at friends & people you trusted when they back-stab you, I have watched you shed tears on your pillow in the solitude of the night.......but what's most important is I have been WATCHING you". "I never turned my back on you........ I watch you because I LOVE you. A kid could be playing with his pet dog, while the father stands aside & watches. But if the dog starts trying to get outta hand, the father steps in to save his child. I LOVE YOU, & as such, my eyes are always on YOU. So just have faith & believe."