......Life and her lessons!

There are many experiences in life which are said to be life changing, some are large events which everyone can see and point to, for me like the death of my father 20years ago, some other events seem so inconsequential that without deep thought it is lost in time, like a smile received from a stranger on a day when everything has indeed gone wrong…..  Well for me one of such events which can be lost in time was my visit to Abuja last weekend…..it was simply Fantastic…..going to Abuja on a weekend is cool, the city is asleep when you imagine that this is the same city where El Rufai rules and Rubadu is king, where tables are tossed and chairs are flung , when you imagine that GMG, isn’t a car , but the road to unimagined wealth…..hmm the city is simply asleep  and kai !, you can get a cozy room in some cozy hotel at 50% the price, if you know your way around, the room comes with added incentives, well forget that gist , but the visit to Abuja was kind of timely, my chinco boss imagined I needed training so off to Abuja I went , a whole weekend not bothered whether a site burnt, sank or the network simply went buhaha…..and trust me, I got a room at half price, along with the added incentives and close to a club….Please close your eyes and imagine the trill , training over and I  go  gaga, I had serious  issues on my mind , so this was  simply an opportunity to let myself lose, I threw myself into the chill winds of Abuja and grooved till the break of dawn, listened to wonderful high life  music at blakes …….hung out at the @#$%, let your imagination wonder , but funnily the high point of  my visit wasn’t the grove , the large cozy hotel room , the feeling of not being bothered about work , nope it was meeting an old friend that reminded me of what life meant and where one was coming from ….

When I knew her she was a  unmarried and past the 30yr old mark, she worked in some clinic where basically people with kidney problems were treated, the place was so close to metro park and Sandra’s bar in GRA Ikeja, My 1^st visit to this place marked the end of my visits to these joints, I never got over the fact that close to this places where I played my heart out ,people laid dying , if only I was older…anyway  I  visited  her there, her salary was meager, and she was also in a bad shape  herself, she had an ulcer and a bad back, product of a bad accident which almost claimed her life, ooh gees , she had  a wonderful voice, she sang alto, and of course at her age what did you expect she was mature and lacked the complexity , arrogance, etc associated with younger women, we often talkd about very many issues, ….that was one and half years ago….time passed and hmmm …..

So finally after all the night groves , the bad English from my chinco facilitators, I finally made it to see my dear old  friend , it was a funny meeting, I glance at her and gosh , she had put on some loads of  weight….I looked down at her......And looked at her closely, hey her stomach now larger than mine….oops, my friend has been busy I thought....and as usual I listened to her story. …the last time we talked must have been about a year and a half ago …I listened!!!!

She told her story of how a year ago, she didn’t know she was going to get a job with a multinational, and go on an all expense paid training to the united states, get married, and become an expectant mum, all in one year, prior to this her prayers was to get a teaching job, go for her PhD, and well marriage was so so ..but in one sweep God ordered her life, we went shopping together and my friend who previously had scare resource, could afford to buy all she wanted in that expensive shop in Abuja….hmmm , my people I watched her and her life , and life simply took on a new image,life it took me down memory  lane…20 years ago, some armed bandits walked into our home and wreaked their havoc , in cold blood , helpless my mum watched her husband die, that was all she had in life , she was one of those women who despite her parents antagonism, chose to love , after the death of my dad, all they had both worked for was taken from her, up to her panties!!…she started again from scratch, she picked up the broken pieces of her life and begun again…….I sat down listening to my friend as she spoke and saw my life and all that I have become flash before me….and quietly I said a prayer of thanksgiving to God,….we talked about the falls of Jesus on his way to cavalry, and tried to imagine how often and how much he had to struggle to get up after each fall, we talked about the fall of peter and how he also struggled and how he also picked up the pieces of his life again , when he fell so hard, we talked about God and the ways he interferes in the affairs of man, we talked about the woman with the issue of blood, and we both came to a compromise that the surest way to happiness is not to try play God with our lives, cos there is very little we all can do about our tomorrows !!....I listened and night fell, ….

On my way to Kaduna, to begin work in earnest, to beseech  my sites again, hear the complains of my clients , walk into my haven of lonesomeness ,I gazed up into the skies , stuck my head out of the window , allowed the wind blow my head , and said thank God , for I knew that despite all my short comings, the many troubles , the uncertainties, the fears , the weakness, the pain, the loneliness, the many battles, he was there watching me and begging me  to allow him  take control of my life….20years ago, it should have ended, last year , it should have ended, last month it should have ended, but here I am still telling my stories…why ?, because God has allowed it…and he sure has been faithful….many us have fallen, do fall and will fall often times and hard too, but believe me, he is there, that  voice in the wilderness of our worries, that gentle wind that blows across our rough seas of life , that angel that whispers peace, sweet peace  and calms all our nerves!!! My people in all this chaos he is there……  .

It’s me,

The Lagos traveler still

 *written in 2006

                                            My Best Mistake… ….

Examine the road over which the fault has passed…page 11 Les misracles by Victor Hugo

My best mistake……when asked to write this piece , I was quite confused, because I sat down and took a critical look at my life and said “ gosh this has been a life of many mistakes, never mind that this was supposed to be a talk on my best mistake in the course of my working experience, however i implore you to all remember that man is a whole being with many parts, his work , personal life, spirituality , social life all form a blend which eventually defines him…and man , whether he likes it or not learns from his mistakes,…..we are all like  children, when it comes to making mistakes, who having been burnt by fire once will never go near it again…by intuition we just learn, that is the sole reason why a person who has seen it, done it , being there, will appear sharper and more focused  than someone who is but experiencing it anew….so mistakes are not bad after all…hey how many of us are Christians and Catholics. .i am, well in the course of human history  according to the catholic doctrine, the worst mistake ever made was by  eve, that fantastic woman , who ate the fruit, well can you blame her, it was an error borne out of securing a career advancement , she wanted to be as wise, as knowledgeable  as God, her big boss…what other career move can be as grand as that ….well the rest is history….the point here however is that many thousands of years after that, the whole of the catholic church calls this mistake of hers that “sweet fall of Eve”…how appropriate, because they say without the fall of eve in the garden , the need for Jesus wouldn’t have been necessary , hey how many of us Christians would want to live without  Jesus. definitely not me……well am not here to preach or pontificate, no, neither am I here to tell you how not to make a mistake or tell you I have never made one, nope. .I am here to tell you about the many mistakes I have made and the lessons I have learnt from making them, and to ask myself and you guys  whether the lessons gained from making this mistake was worth it

I do remember my very 1^st day at work , in my former establishment, work hours was between 8 am and 6 pm daily, and work hours were quite hectic, not like here where with a little wit you could plan your time and day, and not be too stressed when the day ends, nope , there I could  not control the variables,, the phones rang every time and I was obliged to pick it up, people keeping you on the phone for hours asking for clarifications , asking for information, you had an email every 20secs, and you had to reply ,SLAs  had to be met ,well along with these I was to send in a report  at 6pm every day, well it so happened that on this day , my charming boss walks up to me at 6 pm of this said day , and ask me to go out with him for a drink ,I haven’t sent in my report  but  I oblige, he is my boss, we talk and laugh, I feel good at the end of the day, I have impressed my boss, I think , and well am sure he  will understand, I was with him, following day I get into the office early 6am, sent in my report and went about the business of the day, at 10am, I get my 1^st query , “please note that you have not been employed to do things at your own time, 6pm is 6pm”..it reads, my 1^st mistake, but my 1^st lesson in the corporate world, work is work and pleasure is pleasure…..fantastic!.....life is a potpourri of mistakes and lessons , and can one really say there is a best one , I think not, but it is my belief that depending on the lessons  learnt every mistake made becomes our best mistake , because the lessons learnt are kind off  unique, it is like falling for the wrong guy before prince charming comes along or before we finally accept the prince charming that has always been there, each time we say , never again, but  sometimes, many of us still find ourselves in the same boat again, but  we all know that no 2 relationships are alike, no 2 mistakes are alike……and just like man/woman relationship one doesn’t  walk into it, without having thought things through, without having weighed all the odds.. No, you walk into these relationships with your head and heart both reasoning….same thing with life in general, we live it with our heads, and heart , we think it through and think about our every move well, we check all  the variables , and then after doing this and in the course of time we realize that we have been wrong in judgment for some actions taken , we realize we  have made a mistake, we are not too hard on ourselves….because the errors were a function of the information available to us at the given time, moreover it is in this falls, these mistakes that we learn, every time I tried and erred , I learnt something new, I developed so to speak, however  a lot of us also for fear not making these  “mistakes”, become too careful , I think another word for that in this case is cowardly,  but remember nothing ventured, nothing gained…and I think for people like this if asked to write about my best mistake . they will write that their best mistake was having not tried at all….they are the ones who in a meeting , with all the power brokers of their organization around , are so timid to contribute, so consumed by fear that when they have all the answers in their heads, sit still in their chairs, scribbling nothing on the note pads in front of them, thinking “should I talk, should I talk”, when even asked, “hello miss kemi, you have something to say”, the fear of not making a mistake drives them into saying “nothing Sir”…waoh opportunity lost…can never be regained…..hmm, well so far if I still haven’t made a point , then I reckon that giving this talk is another mistake, well the error is  mine but the lessons will be mine eventually too  ……..  my best mistake, now my best mistakes( for they are so many ) have been all the time when I really wanted something and fear held me back, it has been all those times when I could have added value and I did not, it has been those times when I met with a challenge and rather than rise up to it, I cowed in submission, my best mistake has been all the opportunities I did not seize, for the results of these actions are forever lost in time…in simple words : my best mistakes were my inactions. For in time I have indeed realized that if I had summoned the courage to carry out all these acts I indeed will have been light years ahead of where I presently stand.

Thank you

 Lagos Traveller

A letter to my step sister Hassana....our father's house burns!

Dear Hassana ,

Its been a long while I wrote to you or heard from you , but it is my firm belief that despite the mutual silence, in the last 2 yrs  somewhere in your heart you kept memories of me safe; like I did yours

The events of the last couple of months though have made it necessary that I write to you to clear a few misconceptions , misconceptions I fear haven’t been caused by myself but by those who have taken it upon themselves to speak on my behalf, these persons have gagged me and beaten my already frail body to submission, a loud silence now exist at home, everyday I am compelled to sit at table with these ‘brothers” of mine who I have come to see as they really are –empty, uncultured, tribalistic, narrow-minded and self seeking, and listen  to them twist stories about a relationship our parents shared, they speak like our parents never shared a laugh, a meal or never had a common vision, they speak as men consumed by distrust and hate, their words are tainted with bias, and with their words they grovel at  the meal at the table, dipping  both hands into the pot, and trying to put same into a mouth and belly that can only take so much, once in a while I hear them pat each other on the back in jest saying “eat your fill, Hassana ,her kith and kin  may  soon be back’ and tears fill my eyes, once in a while , when am bold enough I ask “what has Hassana done” oh , but they bellow “ we don’t care , let her pay for her mothers sins ‘  and I am moved  to more tears , for I recall our last journeys across the lands of your mother, the vast rich and beautiful savannas , the dry winds of potiskum and damaturu,the chill of the plateau, the water fall in zonkwa, the dongoyaro trees in sokoto, onions in kebbi,the highlands of jalingo and yola, how we traverse all these lands and saw many children calling out for help, in scantily clad clothing, torn and dirty ,limps like toothpicks imported from china, faces charred by the mid day sun, carrying bowls-empty; a figurative representation of what their necks carried, robbed of  any vision or zeal to live save for the longing for the next moments meal, I do recall how we walked these lands hoping that the prayers of our forbearers  would be answered, that someday whether from the south ,east, west or north, the heavens might raise for us men capable of seeing beyond their stomachs to the travails of these young ones, I recall how watching the sun set , we came to agree that all our fathers’ wives who wore the starched khaki uniforms of the white man,, carrying whips and batons , calling us “ fellow countrymen” from the lands of the rising and setting of  the sun, the savannas and the creeks only came to impoverish our home further, feeding fat and serving their concubines across the seas.

Hassanna, recall how you wept when you saw the vision of the creeks and our children there in, having oil for breakfast and blood for dinner, how education for them meant the ‘rat ta tat’ songs of AK47s and paradise was the white man passing through, how pipes not only sucked from the lands but from the minds too, how values were pilfered away  with our material treasures with the aid of whip; guns and marshal music; recall how we both with our graze towards our individual Gods  prayed that from the ashes of poverty, neglect and corruption, a man of education ,grace, empathy will arise.

Hassana, now I look at our home and how my brothers , our  cousins have carried on, I regret for have written to you  2 year ago when our uncle was asked to sit at head of table to say “our prayers have been answered” I, like every other ,was indeed carried away by the words and sounds of the time ; if only we had listened to the voice of reason, that he who does not have  cannot  give , but we were carried away by his talk of  being  without or in our  shoes , his talk of a  shared past, the other day from the stool where I sat In  the darkened room, I watched as some other uncles spoke In  low tones about how deplorable things have become , the uncouth nature we ate at table, the total disregard for value and respect and the need to call an elders meeting and I but wondered, what has words got to do with this, action is what is needed, after all we have talked for so long , each shouting at the top of his voice , trying hard to shout down the other , with no one apparently listening , irony is while we talked some fed fat at the table; and those eating always seemed to know what to do or say to keep these uncles of ours at their long  idealistic discuss, discussions  which has now proved dangerous as some now insinuate that you and yours brought this drought upon us, short of saying you are no longer welcomed at home , a home bequeathed to us all by our forbearers, it is this misconception I need to clear , they speak ,but not our words, they act ,   but not on  our behalf, for now we can see, it is not love for the home of our forbearers that drives them , but the love of their voices, they speak while those with the urge to exclusively enjoy our collective meal and heritage , smack and lick their lips, they who should propel us to action continue  to “hold talks”, even our bearded uncle who loves red hats, says until a elders meeting is conveyed , we the weaker ones in this home must  carry our burdens , however let me not fool you , all I want , weak and cripple as I am , is to be able to sit at table , eat what is my due, without fear of intimidation, without the need to remind my “brothers “ that we are scion of the same stock, it is my wish that regardless of your creed, belief , size or njhab  or my own limitations and disability , we all will have equal opportunity in  this house of our forbearers, we had no choice about  how this house came to be, neither do I think we have a choice but to make it work, for I know that the bonds of poverty , insecurity, corrupt leaders, value decay that has bond us together all these years  is far greater than what they claim separates us , over time they have ensured that we do not act with one vision , so as to safe guard their positions, they have peddled all kinds of stories about our past, a past we know not, while they mortgaged our future, our silence has been misconstrued for cowardice and weakness, but I know inside of us lies enough strength to make the sun set for those who have held us in captivity .

I finish this note with borrowed words : “Let’s say there are prospects for a new Nigeria, but I don’t think we have a new Nigeria yet.” – Wole Soyinka

Lets get to work.

Your dearest aburo

Aiye gbeje

Hope died in August

Jos is 3hrs from kaduna, well 3 weeks  ago, no thanks to my chinco oga , i had to go to jos  with a client, she was not  as beautiful or as busty as my specification demands, so no shaking, but waoh, due to the nature of the assignment, i had to travel a journey which would take me 6hrs... ..trust me, I never miss an opportunity to test my sugar coated tongue , the journey began and i tried myself  and got the lady in question talking , was i in for a shock or was it me....life is such a great teacher !

The lady in  question is dark skinned and has a perpetual smile on her face , she giggles at the slightest opportunity and is so amiable...i asked the right questions and she began talking, 6hrs on he road and she talked the whole distance...... she told me basically about herself and her journey of life so far.....

As she spoke i wondered and counted my blessings ... i looked outside and her words brought tears into my eyes, she said her stories with smiles  and  chuckles,she told me about her mother,her mum is on a wheel chair , she has both legs amputated, hm mm it was the case of diabetes going bad , a small wound that just would not heal, it ate her up slowly, she told me the stories of the agony and pain, the moments when all appeared blink and one wondered whether there was indeed a God , in her words... i listen to all the graphic details, ...she told me also of the story of Hope , a girl she met in one of the hospital wards her mother was admitted in, Hope was a breast Cancer patient , light skinned and beautiful ,i hear she was soo busty....people like me would scream yeeepaaa ,but my friend says Hope had lost one boob , when she met her , she says she watched Hope gradually disappear, 1st the 2nd boob went, then her ovaries, then she lost the use of her legs, Hope she says despite all this had a perpetual smile on her face, and laughed and chuckled whenever she could afford it, i guess that was between the cries of agony and pain... well my friend's mum soon left the hospital and she(my friend )  went back visiting like a good friend and she was told ,Hope DIED IN AUGUST.....that was last year !

 

 2days ago I went into jos again, alone this time the journey was somewhat lonely , but that was was perfect, i looked at the vast savanna, and it brought memories, i was going at a time when all was getting to me, i was getting tired, tomorrow 15th June , makes it 3 months exactly, when this journeys began...Obalende is no longer a place to find solace, even benue state guest house( which reminds you of water front in ilorin ), which is so quite and windy,  a new joint my new found guide takes me too couldn't do the magic, i had started buying Tuesday guardian again...i was gradually walking into the zone of depression.....but 2days ago as i journeyed into what used to be Nigeria's most beautiful city,the beauty still abounds , but you need an inner eye to see it,you need to see beyond the  green, the rocks, the water falls, the people, to see Jos  in her beauty, this  reminded me of Hope, and realized that for so many of usHope has died, for many of us jobless,many of us in terrible emotional situations, for many of us working at jobs which we dis test, for many of us with sick siblings, parents and loved ones, for many of us with crisis ridden homes, Hopehas died, for many of us sinners like you  and i, Hope that we can ever find solace in God has died in august , now we go through life with bag gages of worries ,anxieties and doubt, we lack the strenght the knowledge that tomorrow all would be well gives to us ..we are bloody hopeless....Hope indeed died in August.....well for those who know , i do hope that a reflection on  tomorrow 15th as it affects my life,  will help you find the strength that Hope , that girl who was losing it all had to smile, laugh and giggle, that you see the truth of the statement that " alone you can do nothing; that we learn to keep our head in times of crisis, that indeed despite the fact that Hope died in august we constantly keep her dreams, visions and aspirations alive , for if Hope dies in us all ........what else is left!!

The journeys continue...

take care

Lots of Love

The Lagos Traveler 

Zaria: A bucket full of trick!!

Well believe me it has been a long month, I didnt know how long and how tired I was until my nights began to be a long  nightmare, the nights became characterized with tossing from one end of my very large hotel bed( any ideas) to the other......I was looking forward to a break, i needed to rest my head, rest my body and cool off , well May 1st , workers day .... i looked forward to it with lots of anxiety ...but trust the chinese.. some chap had a brain wave and stuck in the North I was, but by jove i was tired of the lonely nights in the hotel, I was beginning to talk to myself and seeing people who were not there ...to keep my sanity , i offered to go to Zaria, to handle the Jobs there for the weekend......my aunt stays there!

The last time i was in Zaria was ten years ago , I do recall that my 1st visit was made during the hamattan period, i got into Zaria at about 5am of that day, it was so cold, and the fog was so thick that one couldnt see beyond a arms length, this time i got into zaria at about 8pm after a hard day's work, i wasn't   too happy this was the last friday of the month, in lagos , my people for don dey call, where we go hang out , i for dey with my padis and we for dey catch our small small grove till maybe 1am ,for morning before all go thier papa and mama house....here i was alone, no beer , no friend, just my bag and my phone as companions.....

 

But in life we never can tell categorically , what lies ahead!

 

Zaria turn out to be the idle get away....My aunt with her 9 children live in a small bungalow, on a vast field , the set up is a perfect picture of the farm houses we read about in books ( for the imaginative minds) ,she rears goats , chickens and  ducks , the area is quiet and you can hear the trees talk, the wind whistles at night and the birds sing in the mornings... my cousins, love me, not that they have much of a choice in the matter though!!!.....I got into the house that night and gees , i felt like some star , they screamed my name and i am sure in lands far away some old man  and woman enjoying the cool soothing breeze of the night must have heard !!!, food was made and served , my bed was laid , my cloths were washed and it felt so good cos i didnt have to pay for all this like i had been doing  in the last 6weeks , it was free without strings attached..can life get better.....

In 3 days i got so used to the stench of goat shit in the air and let me shock you , there was something very sensual about that aroma!!!!, Fura, the local yoghurt, became a delicacy !, and for you guys ....it does work wonders, ....there wasnt the large hotel bed, here i slept on this 4 X 4 bed and i slept well , i had fanastic dreams of  "you know Who"....and was it bliss or bliss!!, I awoke each morning to hear my aunt and 6 female cousins asking what i wanted to eat and when  and how....all i did was ...NOTHING!!!.... the  mornings rolled by and after visiting the sites which i had to go to , I always walked into the BAR( wetin i for do ) which my self appointed escort.( a gaurd at one of the sites) found for me, it is located in an area called PZ.. in Zaria city and una no go beleive ohhh the place tap, e tap pass KURAMO !

and there like a typical omo boy I drank the local brew: wilfore dark ale, and tiger Rock ( kemi na small I drink OH)....but I was glad to see people unwind , at night it looks like any nice joint in lagos where you can take good girls to, ironically here like obalende in kaduna , you hear the very OLD SKOOL ,.... the different kinds of P soup very available.......Again Zaria the supposed sharia zone shocks me.....true here unlike other states  there is the a strong influence of the islamic faith , but the people are still normal , i saw a few agberos , collecting there thing, the kind plank with nails wey these guys dey hold , u no  go argue, I saw poverty in the many almajiries walking the streets , I saw beauty in the fair ,innocent looking fulani girls and women , with there bodies adorned with all the gold in the world..I saw young people struggling to make a living, picking animal bones to make plates and glass utensils,I saw  the fulani herd man with his cattle, the care and affection which he has and shows his cattle only rivalled by that of mother and child, during this season of low rainfall , you can see him , picking friuts and giving to his cattle like any good mother would do !!, the sights of Zaria still blurr my Vision!!!

Something  also happen in Zaria, i went to church!!!!....Our lady of peace Catholic Church,ABU......this is something that had eluded me for a couple of weeks now and you can't imagine the peace i experienced when I walked into that Church, it reminded me of the catheral in ilorin and the church in UI, I felt like a lost sheep coming home and the priest...oh boy , na music or nollywood for be in vocation,anyway  finally the lagos traveller found God in a strange land......on a passing note , the girls in ABU have learnt to do wonderful things with the ankara material ,  for those who wish to know more  ?????????, please see me in person for details

I was back in Kaduna on the 1st of may, back to my hotel room, the large unused bed, the hotel helps who i have to pay for everything , and my Chinco OGA, telling me "how to do ", "what to do"....and again the boredom settles in.......Life and its many travails!!!

hope to see you guys soon !

stay in touch

the Lagos Traveller