I’ve always wondered about that whole question of nature versus nurture, are we shaped for who we are from when we are born, or does our environment shape us, or more importantly, does the name we are given determine the person we end up being?
I ask this question because well I was bored and started thinking, and this was the result.
As a person, I would like to believe I know who I am, in fact, when I look in the mirror; I generally see the same face I’ve had since I was 5 years old. My eyes are the same the mouth, nose, ears are all the same, in fact with my recent hair cut I look like I did when I was 12 years old (I saw the passport photograph recently, scary, of course it could also explain why a 22 year old dude is hitting on me thinking I’m 20, life can be so good sometimes……. But back to the point).
So the issue is not about knowing who I am, or if I’m happy with myself (I like to believe that I know who I am to about 75 % and I’m generally happy with my life to about 80% of the time which is pretty high when you consider that nobody is 100% happy with their life, and if they say they are, they are lying), but I’ve recently began to wonder if the name I was given was a result of what was seen in me, or have I become the name I was given me.
Let me explain what I mean, in the film Breakfast Club (you gotta watch it, the brat pack at its best), one of the characters asked another what her name was, she said she was Clare, and his response to that was that she had a ‘fat’ name. Supposedly even though she’s not fat, she has this humongous person living inside her and after her first kid, hello sista big bones, (obviously being young, skinny and vain she denied it, but you gotsa wonder).
I mean have you noticed that by and large (lol) Anne’s who just have Anne (not Annette, Aneka, Andrea or any other thing with their names) are very proper, fun, of course but they tend to be incredibly earnest. Or have you noticed how Wale’s all kinda seem wet but are only rescued by the Surname that they have? I mean really be honest with yourself, sometimes a surname can lift up a name.
For me and my names, I’ve always wondered if I was always me, or did my name shape me.
As a person, well as me, I generally use 3 names, Adunola Yewande and Wendy.
Yewande was my first name, (I say first like I’ve been reincarnated, but based on the name I was I guess). Yewande means literally ‘Mother comes back’, and the name was given to me by my parents, because it seemed I was born around the time one of my Great Grandmother’s died, so I was named Yewande. \
The problem is this, I have been told since childhood that I look like her, I sound like her, and people I don’t know have told me that I have an old soul. I’ve also been told that I tend to be maternal, always wanting to take care of people and can be nurturing (sound like a health food don’t I ).
The Wendy name, is a derivative of Yewande, and it was my parents way of not allowing my British nannies (in the good old days of being tiny and in England) to bastardise my name, they decided to call me Wendy, the problem if you could call it that is the meaning of the name.
Wendy according to those books that give you the meaning of English names, was created by the author of Peter Pan J.M. Barrie, from the name of his cousin Gwendolyn. She was according to previously said sources a ‘sweet, affectionate girl who was prone to taking care of people, and could have been described as maternal to her brothers and cousins’. Hence the character in Peter Pan is ‘a sweet loving etc, etc, etc’. The problem is I have been described as all the above (look at the description of Yewande), so what does that say?
Then came Adunola, this was a name I chose for myself when I was about 10 (I have about 9 middle names, so it was a bit of toss up as to which one I would pick, but I don’t know I like Adunola). In case you don’t know Adunola means the ‘Sweetness of Wealth’, and the name was given to me because supposedly the time of my birth was a time of wealth and sweetness for the person who named me (and to be honest, I do think I am the sweetness of anybody’s wealth, no I don’t have a big head I know this for a fact, I mean really, I am the cherry on top of any wealth you may have, I am …….. just read the note Sweetness of Wealth Vol 1 and 2)
Now looking back I have to ask the question that did the name given to me make me all of the above, or by some fluke of fate, the people who named me looked into my eyes and saw all of this in me as a ‘ikkle babby’. I don’t know, but I do wonder what this means for children who are named after celebrities, or given some odd name like Pax (really its the short hand name for tampax, and I don’t know why you would do that to someone, but hey each to their own).
I mean what happens if you name your child a Christina when she is actually a Britney (Christina’s a strong, prone to the unusual and slightly gothy, Britney’s pink, fluffy and kinda vague) , or you name you child Adeola when she should really be a Tolulope, what does that mean for your child.
What about the people who change their names, I mean while Dita Von Tease, changed her name from Heather Sweet to Dita, she is still a Heather Sweet underneath all that make up, corsetry and black hair. She’s loyal, demure, quite and a bit shy but to her she was always a grand burlesque queen so now she’s Dita on the outside but Heather on the inside.
And what of Agyness whatever supermodel who changed her name from Laura Hollins (need I say more) to the interesting name and spelling because of numerology. Will she forever be a Laura trying to disguise herself with the odd name, I don’t know, but back to the question are we shaped by the name we are given or do we become the name we are given or our, our birth names the truest reflection of who we are?
Monday, December 15, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Closure or Closer
So the last few weeks have been hectic, with work and life and most of all with the eternal crush to get over.
Since I’ve now made room in my mind to think as in opposed to blundering through on the idea that if I don’t think just act, things will work out fine (obviously evidence points to the negatoid) I’ve now decided to clear the space in my mind and focus on closure.
The word itself sounds like what it felt like when I closed the car door on my finger, painful, unnecessary and totally out of whack with the world, but focus on the important things, closure.
I’ve developed a totally untried and untested method to get over and move under and totally close the door on bad feelings that you have for someone and hopefully move on with your life a somewhat more mature, slightly less damaged human being. I say that, but the reality is that it would probably leave you feeling bitter for a few month, century, lifetimes, but at least you would learn how not to make the same mistake again. Of course I did hear that the only truth ever learnt is how to make the same mistakes again, nasty idea.
So the 7 point agenda (kinda like Yar’ adua, but this is way much more fun, or relevant maybe?)
1. Stay as far away from the person or thing you are trying to get closure from – I know its not rocket science, but seeing the person or thing, only allows you to continue obsessing and wanting and needing and dreaming (all of which are very dangerous) and you so need to get away from that mind frame. I did not do that when I needed to, hence my current understanding of KEEP AWAY, DANGEROUS TO YOUR HEALTH!!!!
2. Accept – Accept the fact that though you wanted things to end in a certain way, chances are they are not going to. In fact given current evidence, the opposite is usually the case. Accept the following facts that you will feel bad, you will hate all couples and the emo part of yourself will reveal itself full fledge.
3. Feel bad – I know what sort of advice is feel bad, but there are few times in your life you allow yourself to feel bad and get into your emotional hell hole without feeling guilty, take advantage of it, get all the repressed pain out, you have to, to move on
4. Cry – I have trouble crying, I always feel that with so much problems in the world, how can I cry over my stupid broken heart so maybe I squeeze a few drops out, then feel guilty (that’s the problem with wanting to be strong, sometimes you get so strong, you strongarm yourself out of your emotions). So if you cannot just open your mouth and bawl, get some Robb, onions, or a very sad film and make yourself cry. Of course if they don’t work……. I don’t know, pinch yourself.
5. Hang out with friends – Now when a relationship, crush or general emotional disconnection occurs in your life, it’s alright to hang with friends. I know you want to lock all the doors and shut out the world, but take one day to go out with friends, relax if you can and eat bad foods, (ice creams, chocolates, eba and efo riro does not count, neither does amala and gbegiri).
6. Do not send sly text, phone calls etc- I give you this from my limited advice pool, when I say cut all contact with the person/ thing I mean all contact. You cannot send text, letters, make phone calls or in anyway shape or form communicate with the person. It is dangerous to your health and psyche.
7. Finally, if all else fails write something on facebook./ blog/ twitter – Yes, as you may all have guessed it, all the above failed for me, so I decided to write something on facebook, who knows, this might be the heartbreak cure nobody ever thought to prescribe.
Since I’ve now made room in my mind to think as in opposed to blundering through on the idea that if I don’t think just act, things will work out fine (obviously evidence points to the negatoid) I’ve now decided to clear the space in my mind and focus on closure.
The word itself sounds like what it felt like when I closed the car door on my finger, painful, unnecessary and totally out of whack with the world, but focus on the important things, closure.
I’ve developed a totally untried and untested method to get over and move under and totally close the door on bad feelings that you have for someone and hopefully move on with your life a somewhat more mature, slightly less damaged human being. I say that, but the reality is that it would probably leave you feeling bitter for a few month, century, lifetimes, but at least you would learn how not to make the same mistake again. Of course I did hear that the only truth ever learnt is how to make the same mistakes again, nasty idea.
So the 7 point agenda (kinda like Yar’ adua, but this is way much more fun, or relevant maybe?)
1. Stay as far away from the person or thing you are trying to get closure from – I know its not rocket science, but seeing the person or thing, only allows you to continue obsessing and wanting and needing and dreaming (all of which are very dangerous) and you so need to get away from that mind frame. I did not do that when I needed to, hence my current understanding of KEEP AWAY, DANGEROUS TO YOUR HEALTH!!!!
2. Accept – Accept the fact that though you wanted things to end in a certain way, chances are they are not going to. In fact given current evidence, the opposite is usually the case. Accept the following facts that you will feel bad, you will hate all couples and the emo part of yourself will reveal itself full fledge.
3. Feel bad – I know what sort of advice is feel bad, but there are few times in your life you allow yourself to feel bad and get into your emotional hell hole without feeling guilty, take advantage of it, get all the repressed pain out, you have to, to move on
4. Cry – I have trouble crying, I always feel that with so much problems in the world, how can I cry over my stupid broken heart so maybe I squeeze a few drops out, then feel guilty (that’s the problem with wanting to be strong, sometimes you get so strong, you strongarm yourself out of your emotions). So if you cannot just open your mouth and bawl, get some Robb, onions, or a very sad film and make yourself cry. Of course if they don’t work……. I don’t know, pinch yourself.
5. Hang out with friends – Now when a relationship, crush or general emotional disconnection occurs in your life, it’s alright to hang with friends. I know you want to lock all the doors and shut out the world, but take one day to go out with friends, relax if you can and eat bad foods, (ice creams, chocolates, eba and efo riro does not count, neither does amala and gbegiri).
6. Do not send sly text, phone calls etc- I give you this from my limited advice pool, when I say cut all contact with the person/ thing I mean all contact. You cannot send text, letters, make phone calls or in anyway shape or form communicate with the person. It is dangerous to your health and psyche.
7. Finally, if all else fails write something on facebook./ blog/ twitter – Yes, as you may all have guessed it, all the above failed for me, so I decided to write something on facebook, who knows, this might be the heartbreak cure nobody ever thought to prescribe.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Catch me if you can/ Stuck in the middle………. Whatever !! Pt 3 final installment
After University for my BA then on to my MA, where I got the opportunity to go to New Zealand, and OH MY GOD!!! The men and yes they were MEN were foine. Beautiful, burnished brown skin (I was totally into the Maori men) and many tattooed with these beautiful scrollwork that sometimes started on their faces taking up half of it, then working its way down their bodies, their arms, torsos, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I was enamored, in love. I had to be particularly as when I landed and went through customs, one of the officials turned to me and said
‘What are you here for, business or pleasure’,
I replied ‘a bit of both I hope’, and he said
‘Well for pleasure, here’s my number’.
Now I know that was a line that he had probably used on a million women, but after getting down from a tin can that had been in the air for 22 hours and feeling just a bit rough, a man offering you pleasure would turn your head too!! I didn’t call him, but NZ was an experience in itself.
Prostitution being legal in NZ (you would wonder why it is that all the places I have visited have legal prostitution, I don’t know why, but I also have to wonder…………. I have also been to America, Seville, and South Korea so really not everywhere) I was faced with more than one offer as to my ‘willingness’.
One occasion that really freaked me out was on the second day I arrived and on my little walkabout getting to know Auckland I was literally accosted on the street by this ooooooollllllllllllllddddddddddd guy, who told me that he knew me (he did not!!!! I only arrived in the city the day before) that he wants to spend time with me (yeah like I would let that happen) and that I had to have his phone number (what for, dude was at least a hundred years with very bad teeth, and maybe I should have done an Anna Nicole, but while I do like older men, that would have been too insane but considering my current financial position, would it really have been a bad idea I now wonder).
When I refused, he practically dragged me (practical smactical, he dragged me) into this bank and got a pen and paper to give me his number then when he asked what I was doing next and I replied ‘shopping’. Dude followed me into the next shop I went into (it was a vintage clothes shop, NZ is fab for vintage clothes, you have to go check it out) and asked if he could stay with me while I browsed and shopped and maybe get me some lingerie (ewwwwwwwwwwww, maybe I should have said yes and then drained him of all his money, but I just arrived in town, I had to take a bit of time to get to that point, damn me for my eww factor) when I refused and blatantly ignored him he finally left.
Other than the odd experience here and there, NZ made me want to return, at least for one more visit (I have yet to make this trip so if you want to send me money for it, my account number will soon be posted). Not long afterwards, I made the pilgrimage back to Nigeria, except I guess if you return for good it’s not a pilgrimage it’s more like a jack!!
Now back to the issue, I never had to run to catch these guys, in fact, from the moment I took interest in guys, they have been the ones it seems looking to catch me, but my return to Nigeria threw me for a curve because while the men chased me (and boy do they chase) I also started to have crushes on these men ( I mean should I be getting crushes at my age, I am the grand old age of ……… what the hell, either way I’m crushing on one man in particular, now).
Now being a rational 21st Century woman (let me rephrase WOMAN) I took it in my stride, I had asked out men before, it followed the same principle, and it worked. Other times the men chased (both married and single), sometimes I ran, other times I let myself be caught, but I discovered a twist in the tale recently, I have a CRUSH.
Oh the humiliation, the pain the mind boggling stupidity of it all.
This man is fine, who to be honest in the future I will probably forget and be like WHO?!!! But for now he is haunting me, and due to some complicated, convoluted thingys (my life, my eff ups, and my fear because I’ve not liked someone like this before, its crazy), I cannot tell if he likes me, if he’s ambivalent or can’t stand me, I don’t know, but I have been subtle, I only told him I have a crush on him, and he said ‘HE WAS FLATTERED’ (this had to be capitalized because WTF?!!! Flattered, I laid my pride at the altar of his ego and all he could say was I’m flattered!!!!!) but it seems despite this obvious eff up on his part, I’ve regressed to 16 and I can’t get over this crush.
So the question now is, should I pursue, should I make myself unavailable, or should I just take a deep breath and forget about it (but what if he is the father of my unborn children, then I deprive the world of my obviously gorgeous kids) this is getting all too American high school and stupid, but I’m stuck in the middle alone, when I would obviously LOVE to be stuck in the middle with him!
‘What are you here for, business or pleasure’,
I replied ‘a bit of both I hope’, and he said
‘Well for pleasure, here’s my number’.
Now I know that was a line that he had probably used on a million women, but after getting down from a tin can that had been in the air for 22 hours and feeling just a bit rough, a man offering you pleasure would turn your head too!! I didn’t call him, but NZ was an experience in itself.
Prostitution being legal in NZ (you would wonder why it is that all the places I have visited have legal prostitution, I don’t know why, but I also have to wonder…………. I have also been to America, Seville, and South Korea so really not everywhere) I was faced with more than one offer as to my ‘willingness’.
One occasion that really freaked me out was on the second day I arrived and on my little walkabout getting to know Auckland I was literally accosted on the street by this ooooooollllllllllllllddddddddddd guy, who told me that he knew me (he did not!!!! I only arrived in the city the day before) that he wants to spend time with me (yeah like I would let that happen) and that I had to have his phone number (what for, dude was at least a hundred years with very bad teeth, and maybe I should have done an Anna Nicole, but while I do like older men, that would have been too insane but considering my current financial position, would it really have been a bad idea I now wonder).
When I refused, he practically dragged me (practical smactical, he dragged me) into this bank and got a pen and paper to give me his number then when he asked what I was doing next and I replied ‘shopping’. Dude followed me into the next shop I went into (it was a vintage clothes shop, NZ is fab for vintage clothes, you have to go check it out) and asked if he could stay with me while I browsed and shopped and maybe get me some lingerie (ewwwwwwwwwwww, maybe I should have said yes and then drained him of all his money, but I just arrived in town, I had to take a bit of time to get to that point, damn me for my eww factor) when I refused and blatantly ignored him he finally left.
Other than the odd experience here and there, NZ made me want to return, at least for one more visit (I have yet to make this trip so if you want to send me money for it, my account number will soon be posted). Not long afterwards, I made the pilgrimage back to Nigeria, except I guess if you return for good it’s not a pilgrimage it’s more like a jack!!
Now back to the issue, I never had to run to catch these guys, in fact, from the moment I took interest in guys, they have been the ones it seems looking to catch me, but my return to Nigeria threw me for a curve because while the men chased me (and boy do they chase) I also started to have crushes on these men ( I mean should I be getting crushes at my age, I am the grand old age of ……… what the hell, either way I’m crushing on one man in particular, now).
Now being a rational 21st Century woman (let me rephrase WOMAN) I took it in my stride, I had asked out men before, it followed the same principle, and it worked. Other times the men chased (both married and single), sometimes I ran, other times I let myself be caught, but I discovered a twist in the tale recently, I have a CRUSH.
Oh the humiliation, the pain the mind boggling stupidity of it all.
This man is fine, who to be honest in the future I will probably forget and be like WHO?!!! But for now he is haunting me, and due to some complicated, convoluted thingys (my life, my eff ups, and my fear because I’ve not liked someone like this before, its crazy), I cannot tell if he likes me, if he’s ambivalent or can’t stand me, I don’t know, but I have been subtle, I only told him I have a crush on him, and he said ‘HE WAS FLATTERED’ (this had to be capitalized because WTF?!!! Flattered, I laid my pride at the altar of his ego and all he could say was I’m flattered!!!!!) but it seems despite this obvious eff up on his part, I’ve regressed to 16 and I can’t get over this crush.
So the question now is, should I pursue, should I make myself unavailable, or should I just take a deep breath and forget about it (but what if he is the father of my unborn children, then I deprive the world of my obviously gorgeous kids) this is getting all too American high school and stupid, but I’m stuck in the middle alone, when I would obviously LOVE to be stuck in the middle with him!
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Catch me if you can/ Stuck in the middle………. Whatever !! Pt 2
The great voyage was to England and on arrival, I was too busy surviving to pay any attention to boys, and I don’t think they did to me. Of course looking back they must have, but it was more important for me to pass than to be passed around.
While I was not prolific in secondary school, I did have friends who were, the ones that were sleeping with men twice their age, the ones who were sleeping with 2 boys at the same time and the ones who just went the easy route and got pregnant. Either way I was determined not to be one of those girls and kept my eyes on my books, (might explain why I now wear glasses).
After secondary school I made my way to college and then I started to take an active interests in guys, tall guys, short guys, white, black, purple, green suddenly it seemed like the world was full of guys I wanted to see. Even more suddenly (I think it’s sudden, but it might have been a few months) this wonderful French guy came into my life, he was sexy, thoughtful and I figured he was only in town for a while so, why not.
I enjoyed it, I lost the big V, and moved on with my life (we are still friends, we email often) and figured well it wasn’t like Mills and Boons (and other books I had read since those days, but it wasn’t bad, I certainly did not feel that I had crossed a bridge, maybe I hopped a creek!).
The rest of my college days, weeks, months, were followed by study, a few dates, some good and some bad, the good ones we laughed and played and remained friends, the bad ones were very bad. The guy who was so emotionally abusive, (I’m not a small girl, but sometimes words can really make you feel tiny), to the one that tried to hit me, (he ended up with a black eye my mama din’t raise no fool). I won’t say that I’ve had a lot of lovers, but I have been lucky, a lot of guys I went out with are my friends (going out does not imply sex by the way, so get your mucky minds out of the gutter) but no long term relationships.
I’ve often wondered why it is that I can’t sustain a long term relationship, or rather why a long term relationship cannot sustain me, I guess its simply an issue of trust. After your father messes you up with daddy issues it kinda get a bit difficult to trust (of course the main question is, is there woman who does not have daddy issues, if not, more power to you, as kid rock said, ‘it ain’t easy dating a woman with daddy issues’) Of course you cannot blame your parents for the mess up of your love life, but in this issue I think I can point a finger or two or ten.
Either way after college, off I went to University, and boy did they get it right, Uni is a lot of fun, you just have to prioritize when you will mess around. I would suggest your first year (if you are studying in England) cus that year doesn’t count. My first year was all about fun fun fun, I made new friends, I danced a lot, I laughed more and took my first trip to Amsterdam (it was a gas, I did not smoke or inhale, but I did shop for everything and the red light district is really very nice, honest!). Being the practical kinda girl that I am after my first year I spent the remaining 2 years studying very hard and in the interim, I learnt a lot about me and what I would and would not do (no I won’t tell, but there are things I would not do)
While I was not prolific in secondary school, I did have friends who were, the ones that were sleeping with men twice their age, the ones who were sleeping with 2 boys at the same time and the ones who just went the easy route and got pregnant. Either way I was determined not to be one of those girls and kept my eyes on my books, (might explain why I now wear glasses).
After secondary school I made my way to college and then I started to take an active interests in guys, tall guys, short guys, white, black, purple, green suddenly it seemed like the world was full of guys I wanted to see. Even more suddenly (I think it’s sudden, but it might have been a few months) this wonderful French guy came into my life, he was sexy, thoughtful and I figured he was only in town for a while so, why not.
I enjoyed it, I lost the big V, and moved on with my life (we are still friends, we email often) and figured well it wasn’t like Mills and Boons (and other books I had read since those days, but it wasn’t bad, I certainly did not feel that I had crossed a bridge, maybe I hopped a creek!).
The rest of my college days, weeks, months, were followed by study, a few dates, some good and some bad, the good ones we laughed and played and remained friends, the bad ones were very bad. The guy who was so emotionally abusive, (I’m not a small girl, but sometimes words can really make you feel tiny), to the one that tried to hit me, (he ended up with a black eye my mama din’t raise no fool). I won’t say that I’ve had a lot of lovers, but I have been lucky, a lot of guys I went out with are my friends (going out does not imply sex by the way, so get your mucky minds out of the gutter) but no long term relationships.
I’ve often wondered why it is that I can’t sustain a long term relationship, or rather why a long term relationship cannot sustain me, I guess its simply an issue of trust. After your father messes you up with daddy issues it kinda get a bit difficult to trust (of course the main question is, is there woman who does not have daddy issues, if not, more power to you, as kid rock said, ‘it ain’t easy dating a woman with daddy issues’) Of course you cannot blame your parents for the mess up of your love life, but in this issue I think I can point a finger or two or ten.
Either way after college, off I went to University, and boy did they get it right, Uni is a lot of fun, you just have to prioritize when you will mess around. I would suggest your first year (if you are studying in England) cus that year doesn’t count. My first year was all about fun fun fun, I made new friends, I danced a lot, I laughed more and took my first trip to Amsterdam (it was a gas, I did not smoke or inhale, but I did shop for everything and the red light district is really very nice, honest!). Being the practical kinda girl that I am after my first year I spent the remaining 2 years studying very hard and in the interim, I learnt a lot about me and what I would and would not do (no I won’t tell, but there are things I would not do)
Monday, December 1, 2008
Catch me if you can/ Stuck in the middle………. Whatever !! Pt 1
‘I have turned a corner and become a woman’ or was it …………. ‘It was like crossing a bridge’, either way when I watched that scene in Silk (book by Shirley Conran, film by I don’t know but it had Pheobe Cates playing weird vampish baby girl) I always wondered what the heck they were talking about. I was young then, but I later figured out that they were talking about sex. Bad analogy for what it feels like to have sex for the first time, but hey everybody is entitled to their own opinion.
For me, this is not about the first time I had sex, it has to do with what seems to be my overriding race (can you call it that?) to catch a bloke, one particular bloke, my bloke, the one that I’d know when I see, the one that ‘completes me’ (nerts to that, just one that I can stand for more than 5 seconds would do).
I can’t say that I remember much of my childhood, but I do remember the first time I did something so I could impress a guy, I think I was about 5.
At school that day I was sitting in class, talking to a friend of mine (he was male) and this girl (who I chose to see as a ‘ho in training) came up to us, sat down next to him and asked him if he wanted to see her pants. I remember being shocked not because she had asked the question, but by the quickness in which my ‘friend’ turned his head and said yes.
So ‘ho in training got up pulled up her dress and said ‘look at my pants, look at my pants’, not to be overshadowed, I promptly got up and did the same. What happened after this should have warned me of what my future with guys was going to be because at that exact moment the teacher walked in (I know she was standing just waiting for me to do the pants thing) and promptly gave me some sharp slaps on the exposed buttocks. After this, I reconsidered my friendship with the guy, but I did see him suddenly take an interest in ‘ho in training.
The next incident that comes to mind about my life and sex was when I discovered Mills and Boons at 7 or 8. I didn’t really understand some of the words (thank God for dictionaries) but I got the general idea of what sex was all about and the results it was meant to produce. So when at 10 a fellow parishioner (he must have been at least 20!!) in my pastors house pulled me onto his lap to play and as I was reading I felt something pushing at my butt and his hand found his way under my top I knew to stand up quickly and move very quickly away, before I could say anything, he jumped up and ran away, (I never saw him in church after that).
After that, my life became a series of studying and trying to pass exams and going off to boarding house. In boarding house, I saw a lot of my seniors sneaking off into corners with the senior boys, and heard rumors of pregnancies and abortions, but nothing that affected me (I was curiously immune to the crush bug, until recently it seems) I was just uninvolved and unconcerned.
This was until the day that one of the boys who lived with his mother on the school premises, Sidney I think his name was, started taking an unusual amount of interest in me, and started to call me duck, because he said I waddled. I didn’t think much of it, until one weekend we had gone for a walk with some friends and suddenly I was alone with him and he wanted me to touch him. Where I hear you ask, well it does not take a genius to figure out where in this story, I said no, he tried to force my hand on it and I screamed and ran I was 12. I kept away from him after that day; in fact I went out of my way to avoid him, luckily I was not in the school for long, a great voyage awaited me…….
For me, this is not about the first time I had sex, it has to do with what seems to be my overriding race (can you call it that?) to catch a bloke, one particular bloke, my bloke, the one that I’d know when I see, the one that ‘completes me’ (nerts to that, just one that I can stand for more than 5 seconds would do).
I can’t say that I remember much of my childhood, but I do remember the first time I did something so I could impress a guy, I think I was about 5.
At school that day I was sitting in class, talking to a friend of mine (he was male) and this girl (who I chose to see as a ‘ho in training) came up to us, sat down next to him and asked him if he wanted to see her pants. I remember being shocked not because she had asked the question, but by the quickness in which my ‘friend’ turned his head and said yes.
So ‘ho in training got up pulled up her dress and said ‘look at my pants, look at my pants’, not to be overshadowed, I promptly got up and did the same. What happened after this should have warned me of what my future with guys was going to be because at that exact moment the teacher walked in (I know she was standing just waiting for me to do the pants thing) and promptly gave me some sharp slaps on the exposed buttocks. After this, I reconsidered my friendship with the guy, but I did see him suddenly take an interest in ‘ho in training.
The next incident that comes to mind about my life and sex was when I discovered Mills and Boons at 7 or 8. I didn’t really understand some of the words (thank God for dictionaries) but I got the general idea of what sex was all about and the results it was meant to produce. So when at 10 a fellow parishioner (he must have been at least 20!!) in my pastors house pulled me onto his lap to play and as I was reading I felt something pushing at my butt and his hand found his way under my top I knew to stand up quickly and move very quickly away, before I could say anything, he jumped up and ran away, (I never saw him in church after that).
After that, my life became a series of studying and trying to pass exams and going off to boarding house. In boarding house, I saw a lot of my seniors sneaking off into corners with the senior boys, and heard rumors of pregnancies and abortions, but nothing that affected me (I was curiously immune to the crush bug, until recently it seems) I was just uninvolved and unconcerned.
This was until the day that one of the boys who lived with his mother on the school premises, Sidney I think his name was, started taking an unusual amount of interest in me, and started to call me duck, because he said I waddled. I didn’t think much of it, until one weekend we had gone for a walk with some friends and suddenly I was alone with him and he wanted me to touch him. Where I hear you ask, well it does not take a genius to figure out where in this story, I said no, he tried to force my hand on it and I screamed and ran I was 12. I kept away from him after that day; in fact I went out of my way to avoid him, luckily I was not in the school for long, a great voyage awaited me…….
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Forged in fire and Made of Steel
When you look at me, what do you see?
Do you see the girl with the twinkling smile?
Or the one with the burning ambition
When you look at me, what do you see?
Do you see the dumpy girl running from place to place?
Or the one with the thrilling voice making friends?
When you look at me, what do you see?
Do you see the girl forged in fire and made of steel?
Or the one who melted diamonds to be here
What do I see when I look at me?
I see the girl groomed from bitterness into light
I see the woman who makes mistakes and learns
I see the person who seeks the return of a lost lover
I see me as I was, and as I am
I see me as the holdable one
The one who was loved without borders or restrictions
I see it all; I see the soft and the hard
I see the calm and the tempestuous
I see the jealousy and the acceptance
I see the sorrow and the bitterness
Forged in Fire, Made of Steel
Always in emotion
Never in repose
Do you see the girl with the twinkling smile?
Or the one with the burning ambition
When you look at me, what do you see?
Do you see the dumpy girl running from place to place?
Or the one with the thrilling voice making friends?
When you look at me, what do you see?
Do you see the girl forged in fire and made of steel?
Or the one who melted diamonds to be here
What do I see when I look at me?
I see the girl groomed from bitterness into light
I see the woman who makes mistakes and learns
I see the person who seeks the return of a lost lover
I see me as I was, and as I am
I see me as the holdable one
The one who was loved without borders or restrictions
I see it all; I see the soft and the hard
I see the calm and the tempestuous
I see the jealousy and the acceptance
I see the sorrow and the bitterness
Forged in Fire, Made of Steel
Always in emotion
Never in repose
When sorry is not enough
You look like a student he said
I replied
‘Well I guess I’m still learning’
Yes I’m still learning,
Learning to break hearts
Learning to say sorry
Sorry for being wrong
Sorry for not considering another
When all is said and done
The manner of our behaviour
Will forever hunt us
So not to belabour the point
I look like a student
Because I’m still learning
Because I can never make it right
Because I hurt someone
Because I have yet to graduate
To being a mature human being.
I replied
‘Well I guess I’m still learning’
Yes I’m still learning,
Learning to break hearts
Learning to say sorry
Sorry for being wrong
Sorry for not considering another
When all is said and done
The manner of our behaviour
Will forever hunt us
So not to belabour the point
I look like a student
Because I’m still learning
Because I can never make it right
Because I hurt someone
Because I have yet to graduate
To being a mature human being.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
AdunOla
Sweetness of Wealth Vol 1
I am the sweetness of wealth
Not the cruddy bit at the bottom
But the cherry on the pie
The frosting on the cake
The chocolate fudge on the sundae
I am the source of great pleasure
And the peak of all mountains you strived to reach
I am the dream you have
The love you seek
The determinant in all decisions
The sweetness of wealth cannot be taken
It must be given
That is me
The sweetness of wealth
The source of supreme happiness
The one thing you were looking for
But could never grab hold of
So if I pass your way
You know what to do
Sweetness of Wealth Vol 2
The waters run,
And sometimes we lose the pleasure of the simple things
But the sweetness of wealth is eternal
The sweetness of wealth is the acceptance of all
The sweetness of wealth is the luck you get
The sweetness of wealth
Is in the joy of freedom
The sweetness of wealth
Is in the acceptance of fate
It’s easy to acquire money and wealth
It’s easy to forget the power it wields
But when the sweetness comes to you
All is clear
You cannot own the sweetness of wealth,
It can only be given to you willingly
But don’t forget, to really enjoy the sweetness of wealth
Accept that sweetness can only be enjoyed
When you have tasted some bitterness
Like dark chocolate the sweetness is intrinsic
The bitterness is part of the goodness, and
The goodness is overwhelming
The unique taste of the sweetness of wealth
Is what makes wealth worthwhile
So look out for the sweetness of wealth
Don’t let it pass you by
Once the sweetness of wealth goes by
There is no coming back
If you are lucky enough to get it
Even for a while
All the sweetness you could ever want
Is yours for the taking
I am the sweetness of wealth
Not the cruddy bit at the bottom
But the cherry on the pie
The frosting on the cake
The chocolate fudge on the sundae
I am the source of great pleasure
And the peak of all mountains you strived to reach
I am the dream you have
The love you seek
The determinant in all decisions
The sweetness of wealth cannot be taken
It must be given
That is me
The sweetness of wealth
The source of supreme happiness
The one thing you were looking for
But could never grab hold of
So if I pass your way
You know what to do
Sweetness of Wealth Vol 2
The waters run,
And sometimes we lose the pleasure of the simple things
But the sweetness of wealth is eternal
The sweetness of wealth is the acceptance of all
The sweetness of wealth is the luck you get
The sweetness of wealth
Is in the joy of freedom
The sweetness of wealth
Is in the acceptance of fate
It’s easy to acquire money and wealth
It’s easy to forget the power it wields
But when the sweetness comes to you
All is clear
You cannot own the sweetness of wealth,
It can only be given to you willingly
But don’t forget, to really enjoy the sweetness of wealth
Accept that sweetness can only be enjoyed
When you have tasted some bitterness
Like dark chocolate the sweetness is intrinsic
The bitterness is part of the goodness, and
The goodness is overwhelming
The unique taste of the sweetness of wealth
Is what makes wealth worthwhile
So look out for the sweetness of wealth
Don’t let it pass you by
Once the sweetness of wealth goes by
There is no coming back
If you are lucky enough to get it
Even for a while
All the sweetness you could ever want
Is yours for the taking
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Work day blues
We stumbled out with our hands in front of us
We were like Zombies feeling the world with our hands
The early morning light made us remember that the night before was just that
The moment our feet hit the ground
We fell but not sure why
The moment we realised what had happened
Our happy buzz became a death knell
The realisation came over us
It’s all over
The night of passion and enjoyment brought with it its own reward
The moment we opened out eyes reality shocked us
The Lagos skyline reminded us that no matter
Where we run
We still had to open our eyes and even on Sunday
Work is just around the corner
Adunola Ajuwon © 2008
We were like Zombies feeling the world with our hands
The early morning light made us remember that the night before was just that
The moment our feet hit the ground
We fell but not sure why
The moment we realised what had happened
Our happy buzz became a death knell
The realisation came over us
It’s all over
The night of passion and enjoyment brought with it its own reward
The moment we opened out eyes reality shocked us
The Lagos skyline reminded us that no matter
Where we run
We still had to open our eyes and even on Sunday
Work is just around the corner
Adunola Ajuwon © 2008
Monday, October 20, 2008
Pining after 6 month's!!! NOT!!!
He though I was pining for him after 6 months!!!!! I mean really!!!
Ok so the other day I got this text (SMS) asking me to call X (for the sake of anonymity lets leave it at this).
Now I didn’t recognise the number, but since the person knew my name and the text seemed kinda intimate i thought, let’s call, let me waste my credit and find out who this person is.
The first few minutes of the conversation went like this …..
Him - Hello? Who’s this?
Me - This is me, you sent me a text saying to call you, who are you?
Him - Oh I’m X don’t you remember me?
Me – Um, No
Me - Which X, I know a lot of X’s which one are you?
Him - You mean you don’t remember me?
Me - No, who are you?
So he started quoting dates, meetings and friends.
It was the name of a friend of mine that made the whole thing click and I was like,
Oh, it you, how are you?
Then he became angry, all how could I not remember him, how could I be so blasé, he was sure I was pretending I did not know him.
Now being a very practical person and knowing that my credit was running out swiftly, I stopped him mid stream and asked what he wanted, after all, based on the text, he wanted me to call I did, and no I was not pretending not to know him, 6 months is a long time, and I’ve had other things on my mind, thank you very much.
So being a typical male he went to the ego control department and came up with the mother of all stupid thing to say and made me wonder just how stupid men think women are?
He said - I know I’ve not called you in a while and you were hurt, but that’s no reason to be like that?
Me - Oh my God!! (laugh, laugh some more, uncontrollable laughter, interspersed with so sorry, really not really laughing at the situation, just laughing at you, laugh some more)
When I finally get a hold of myself all I could say was, ‘do you really imagine that I have nothing else to do with my life than to pine after you'?
You really thought that I’ve spent the last 6 months by the phone waiting for it to ring!!!!
(Laugh some more, totally uncontrollable laughter)
He - Get upset and hang up.
Me – Continue laughing for about 30 minutes afterwards
Looking back though, do men really think women are so desperate they will hang around a phone for 6 months just so they would call?
If guys think so, I will suggest they take a chill pill cus I have better things to do.
If you don’t call and I want to talk to you, I will call, if neither calls, let’s agree that we are both adults and can live quite comfortably without each other. Sheesh
Ok so the other day I got this text (SMS) asking me to call X (for the sake of anonymity lets leave it at this).
Now I didn’t recognise the number, but since the person knew my name and the text seemed kinda intimate i thought, let’s call, let me waste my credit and find out who this person is.
The first few minutes of the conversation went like this …..
Him - Hello? Who’s this?
Me - This is me, you sent me a text saying to call you, who are you?
Him - Oh I’m X don’t you remember me?
Me – Um, No
Me - Which X, I know a lot of X’s which one are you?
Him - You mean you don’t remember me?
Me - No, who are you?
So he started quoting dates, meetings and friends.
It was the name of a friend of mine that made the whole thing click and I was like,
Oh, it you, how are you?
Then he became angry, all how could I not remember him, how could I be so blasé, he was sure I was pretending I did not know him.
Now being a very practical person and knowing that my credit was running out swiftly, I stopped him mid stream and asked what he wanted, after all, based on the text, he wanted me to call I did, and no I was not pretending not to know him, 6 months is a long time, and I’ve had other things on my mind, thank you very much.
So being a typical male he went to the ego control department and came up with the mother of all stupid thing to say and made me wonder just how stupid men think women are?
He said - I know I’ve not called you in a while and you were hurt, but that’s no reason to be like that?
Me - Oh my God!! (laugh, laugh some more, uncontrollable laughter, interspersed with so sorry, really not really laughing at the situation, just laughing at you, laugh some more)
When I finally get a hold of myself all I could say was, ‘do you really imagine that I have nothing else to do with my life than to pine after you'?
You really thought that I’ve spent the last 6 months by the phone waiting for it to ring!!!!
(Laugh some more, totally uncontrollable laughter)
He - Get upset and hang up.
Me – Continue laughing for about 30 minutes afterwards
Looking back though, do men really think women are so desperate they will hang around a phone for 6 months just so they would call?
If guys think so, I will suggest they take a chill pill cus I have better things to do.
If you don’t call and I want to talk to you, I will call, if neither calls, let’s agree that we are both adults and can live quite comfortably without each other. Sheesh
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Stranger than Fiction
I don’t know about you, but over the last few weeks etc, I’ve started to really wonder if the world is run by movies and television show, let me explain.
You would have to be under a tree, rock or some other large immovable object not to know that elections are taking place in the ‘Americas’, yes I wrote it that way on purpose.
For those of you who did not watch West Wing, become a fan of President Bartlett, Leo Senator Santos, CJ etc, then, I’m really sorry you missed out on a great show, and missed the prediction of the current election; cus West Wing already predicted the current presidential election.
West Wing told us how this election is going to end, the national disaster, the way the different parties will handle it the reaction of people the marginal lead etc, except maybe without the bipartisan cooperation of the Republicans and Democrats but the whole thing has already been shown on TV, and really the tension is unwarranted, McCain should do the right thing and concede and let Obama get on with it. (I am not bipartisan, I love Obama, I’m proud to say that I am barmy for Obama, and I am a ‘Bama Babe, before you all start going bonkers about my political inclination, not that it makes a difference since I’m not American……… but that is a blog for another day)
So some of you might think I’m being overwrought by just how much it seems our lives are following the media, but I have proof (as to do most crazy people, but I know I’m right)
All I have to say is watch Wag the Dog.
Wag the Dog is a story about the president of the USA being involved in a sex scandal (Bill Clinton) and in a bid to dissuade people from thinking about it he ‘created’ a war in Albania (Bill Clinton scandal and the Bosnian War anybody).
This is a sad one to bring up, but September 11 and the list of films that showed the twin towers being blown up, Armageddon, Deep Impact etc.
The list is endless of comparisons that can be seen between the movies and the ‘real world’.
This now brings about the mother of all movies which talk about the infringement of the movies into our lives, The Matrix.
While evidence does not quite show that we are living in the Matrix (Matrix 1 obviously 2 and 3 were just crap), and I might on my saner days concede that we do not live in the Matrix, I do still wonder sometimes if we do.
Now if we did live in the Matrix, is this the way a ‘good’ machine is trying to warn us of the future of our world, is An Inconvenient Truth not so much about global warming, but the fact that our little tanks are over flowing, is Sex and the City not so much about Carrie Bradshaw and co’s obsession with marriage and sex, but more about the fact that the Matrix has been taken over by skinny, fashion deficient robots who lack emotional stability, and is the use of facebook the hardwire for them to read our minds more easily…………
Ummmmmmmmmm
Let us ponder on the pondering.
The cells of the world are filled with people who claim reading a book, watching a movie caused them to commit acts of unimaginable cruelty and evil.
If it is sometimes maybe true that the media predicts to some extent the way our world runs and tells us, should we be more aware, are we ignoring the fact that could it be that the movies are the predictors of the world future as a whole?
You would have to be under a tree, rock or some other large immovable object not to know that elections are taking place in the ‘Americas’, yes I wrote it that way on purpose.
For those of you who did not watch West Wing, become a fan of President Bartlett, Leo Senator Santos, CJ etc, then, I’m really sorry you missed out on a great show, and missed the prediction of the current election; cus West Wing already predicted the current presidential election.
West Wing told us how this election is going to end, the national disaster, the way the different parties will handle it the reaction of people the marginal lead etc, except maybe without the bipartisan cooperation of the Republicans and Democrats but the whole thing has already been shown on TV, and really the tension is unwarranted, McCain should do the right thing and concede and let Obama get on with it. (I am not bipartisan, I love Obama, I’m proud to say that I am barmy for Obama, and I am a ‘Bama Babe, before you all start going bonkers about my political inclination, not that it makes a difference since I’m not American……… but that is a blog for another day)
So some of you might think I’m being overwrought by just how much it seems our lives are following the media, but I have proof (as to do most crazy people, but I know I’m right)
All I have to say is watch Wag the Dog.
Wag the Dog is a story about the president of the USA being involved in a sex scandal (Bill Clinton) and in a bid to dissuade people from thinking about it he ‘created’ a war in Albania (Bill Clinton scandal and the Bosnian War anybody).
This is a sad one to bring up, but September 11 and the list of films that showed the twin towers being blown up, Armageddon, Deep Impact etc.
The list is endless of comparisons that can be seen between the movies and the ‘real world’.
This now brings about the mother of all movies which talk about the infringement of the movies into our lives, The Matrix.
While evidence does not quite show that we are living in the Matrix (Matrix 1 obviously 2 and 3 were just crap), and I might on my saner days concede that we do not live in the Matrix, I do still wonder sometimes if we do.
Now if we did live in the Matrix, is this the way a ‘good’ machine is trying to warn us of the future of our world, is An Inconvenient Truth not so much about global warming, but the fact that our little tanks are over flowing, is Sex and the City not so much about Carrie Bradshaw and co’s obsession with marriage and sex, but more about the fact that the Matrix has been taken over by skinny, fashion deficient robots who lack emotional stability, and is the use of facebook the hardwire for them to read our minds more easily…………
Ummmmmmmmmm
Let us ponder on the pondering.
The cells of the world are filled with people who claim reading a book, watching a movie caused them to commit acts of unimaginable cruelty and evil.
If it is sometimes maybe true that the media predicts to some extent the way our world runs and tells us, should we be more aware, are we ignoring the fact that could it be that the movies are the predictors of the world future as a whole?
Monday, October 13, 2008
Charity and Me
No!! This is not a blog about girl on girl action, it about giving money…….. which for some might actually be worse.
It’s said that charity begins at home, and like most people I have always abided by the idea and believe that you should help those who cannot help themselves.
The problem, I have noticed on my part is that I am not the most charitable of people. I feel guilty when I see people on the road begging for money, looking ill, or children scratching at the car door asking for anything, but rarely does that translate to putting my hand into my pocket to bring out change and hand it over.
I’m also aware that my behaviour is not peculiar to me, many Nigerians are disinclined to give money to beggars in the street and even more see charity organisations as fraudulent enterprises.
Why is this? Why is it that in a country of 150 million people approximately, we see the act of charity as something abhorrent? After all our various churches, mosques and other religious text tells and promotes the idea of giving, and encourages us to do so whole heartedly.
The Bible talks about helping our fellow man in times of need by the giving of alms.
The Koran informs of the fact that as a rich man exists, so does a poor one, so the rich should give to the poor (I am paraphrasing so please forgive any irregularities in translation).
Other than this, basic human principle demands that we help each other in times of need, because you never know when you might need the help of others, but for many, charity begins and ends at home.
As usual, most of the thoughts that pass my mind, I discuss with a few friends, and on this occasion, the issue of charity, was the one being thrashed out.
During the discussion I realised that many of the prejudices I had heard in passing were obvious in my friends.
The first argument that always comes up is, why should I give money to someone who looks to have suffered a horrific burn, for all you know s/he got the burns from stealing and they threw a tyre over his head.
The next argument is, ‘s/he does not deserve my money’, after all I work all day and night to earn it, and they do nothing and ask for hand outs.
Another prejudice (there are a lot of them) that exists when talking about beggars and their needs is that there is an ‘influx’ of migrants who congregate in our cities. They are not from Nigeria, and as such, they must have been shipped in to beg for money so that it can be pooled for a ‘super beggar importer/ exporter’.
Whatever the person’s individual prejudice might be, be is one of the above, or all of them, or one not mentioned it helps in justifying the general lack of charity.
Now one would imagine that when looking at the role our conscience plays in regards to charity, it would tell us to give, instead it seems to do the opposite. When it comes to giving our conscience tells us that the reason the person with polio asks for money is because in their part of the country, they do not know better. Our conscience pricks us for this unjust and unfair development, but wouldn’t allow us to encourage such blatant lack of self improvement. Better they learn that not improving themselves and learning about vaccinations and general health care will leave them in this position.
Finally the sordid issue of the coin determines how much or if the average Nigerian can give. Most Nigerians do not have enough disposable income to give, this is glaringly obvious when one considers the fact that 90% of Nigerians are living on less than $1 a day. Also when it comes to money, the question of how much and if any should be given become the dilemma. The internal battle of if I give to everyone who begged for money, where would that leave me, and the not giving would ultimately make them better themselves, is never ending.
For me the issue of charity is a personal one, I would like to say that I give freely and without exception, but as I mentioned above this is not the case. My reason for not giving is two fold, the first part encompasses the above, and the second part is simply this.
For those who have all their limbs working and I would imagine a nominal amount of intelligence, it behoves me to give anything. They have the ability to go out and earn money by working, but are content it seems to ask for hand outs. I know that I could take the same position and beg for my day to day living, but my pride demands that I do better for myself and work, and I believe so should theirs.
Irrespective of our reasons for not giving, we should make the effort to find some charity in our heart. Maybe this can be done by finding a charity that uses money given to it wisely, or by doing something unexpected for someone.
An alternative to this could be doing something as simple as giving the child at the side of the road a packet of pure water to quench their thirst. Whatever is done, it should be done with a whole heart and with the knowledge that it is only by the grace of God we are not in a similar position.
It’s said that charity begins at home, and like most people I have always abided by the idea and believe that you should help those who cannot help themselves.
The problem, I have noticed on my part is that I am not the most charitable of people. I feel guilty when I see people on the road begging for money, looking ill, or children scratching at the car door asking for anything, but rarely does that translate to putting my hand into my pocket to bring out change and hand it over.
I’m also aware that my behaviour is not peculiar to me, many Nigerians are disinclined to give money to beggars in the street and even more see charity organisations as fraudulent enterprises.
Why is this? Why is it that in a country of 150 million people approximately, we see the act of charity as something abhorrent? After all our various churches, mosques and other religious text tells and promotes the idea of giving, and encourages us to do so whole heartedly.
The Bible talks about helping our fellow man in times of need by the giving of alms.
The Koran informs of the fact that as a rich man exists, so does a poor one, so the rich should give to the poor (I am paraphrasing so please forgive any irregularities in translation).
Other than this, basic human principle demands that we help each other in times of need, because you never know when you might need the help of others, but for many, charity begins and ends at home.
As usual, most of the thoughts that pass my mind, I discuss with a few friends, and on this occasion, the issue of charity, was the one being thrashed out.
During the discussion I realised that many of the prejudices I had heard in passing were obvious in my friends.
The first argument that always comes up is, why should I give money to someone who looks to have suffered a horrific burn, for all you know s/he got the burns from stealing and they threw a tyre over his head.
The next argument is, ‘s/he does not deserve my money’, after all I work all day and night to earn it, and they do nothing and ask for hand outs.
Another prejudice (there are a lot of them) that exists when talking about beggars and their needs is that there is an ‘influx’ of migrants who congregate in our cities. They are not from Nigeria, and as such, they must have been shipped in to beg for money so that it can be pooled for a ‘super beggar importer/ exporter’.
Whatever the person’s individual prejudice might be, be is one of the above, or all of them, or one not mentioned it helps in justifying the general lack of charity.
Now one would imagine that when looking at the role our conscience plays in regards to charity, it would tell us to give, instead it seems to do the opposite. When it comes to giving our conscience tells us that the reason the person with polio asks for money is because in their part of the country, they do not know better. Our conscience pricks us for this unjust and unfair development, but wouldn’t allow us to encourage such blatant lack of self improvement. Better they learn that not improving themselves and learning about vaccinations and general health care will leave them in this position.
Finally the sordid issue of the coin determines how much or if the average Nigerian can give. Most Nigerians do not have enough disposable income to give, this is glaringly obvious when one considers the fact that 90% of Nigerians are living on less than $1 a day. Also when it comes to money, the question of how much and if any should be given become the dilemma. The internal battle of if I give to everyone who begged for money, where would that leave me, and the not giving would ultimately make them better themselves, is never ending.
For me the issue of charity is a personal one, I would like to say that I give freely and without exception, but as I mentioned above this is not the case. My reason for not giving is two fold, the first part encompasses the above, and the second part is simply this.
For those who have all their limbs working and I would imagine a nominal amount of intelligence, it behoves me to give anything. They have the ability to go out and earn money by working, but are content it seems to ask for hand outs. I know that I could take the same position and beg for my day to day living, but my pride demands that I do better for myself and work, and I believe so should theirs.
Irrespective of our reasons for not giving, we should make the effort to find some charity in our heart. Maybe this can be done by finding a charity that uses money given to it wisely, or by doing something unexpected for someone.
An alternative to this could be doing something as simple as giving the child at the side of the road a packet of pure water to quench their thirst. Whatever is done, it should be done with a whole heart and with the knowledge that it is only by the grace of God we are not in a similar position.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Old Men, New Men, Nigerian Men
I have recently gotten into the habit of looking at Nigerian men and trying to decide if they fall into the category of Old Man or New Man.
For those of you who are wondering what I mean, I will look to give a simple explanation.
There is the belief that the Old Man, is the Neanderthal man, the man who thinks that courting is hitting a woman over the head with a stick, and dragging her into his cave.
This man of old has supposedly evolved to the New Man.
The New Man is a man who is in touch with his emotions, has no fear of getting a facial and can be afraid of a rat (the scurrying type).
The Nigerian men on the other hand seem to be a breed of their very own they embrace the mani’s and pedi culture, but also seem obsessed with the traditional idea of what a MAN is meant to be, they in fact make the perfect metrosexual.
What is a Metrosexual I hear you ask?
Well, a metrosexual is a person who is comfortable with their masculine and feminine side, and have no inhibitions about letting that out.
It would be easy and straight forward to end it here, but like most things involving men in Nigeria, things are not so simple. Nigerian men have always been very aware of their looks and take great pride in wearing the right clothes with matching accessories.
The problem comes in when you so much as suggest they moisturise their feet they rear back in disbelief, how could you suggest such a thing, only women do that.
I asked around my girlfriends to find out their thought to the idea of the Nigerian man being a metrosexual.
Now while they admitted that the Nigerian man has all the traits, they had issues of their own. To them the Nigerian man was the man who would cuddle you at home but keep you at a distance outside, he is the person who will take hours to get ready but should the woman take an extra 5 minutes to get their lipstick right he throws a tantrum.
Since their views were rather subjective, I felt it best to go in to the lair of the Nigerian Man, to find out what they thought about the idea.
When I first asked the question the answer was predictably Neanderthal, it began from what’s that? Is it like fag? Can I get some from you? I will metro your sexual? and followed the usual round of coarse words and thinly veiled innuendos.
After the predictable response, which denoted low level brain activity and nonsensical mutterings, the new man came out.
In defining themselves, Nigerian men saw themselves as incomparable to their western counterparts.
For them it is not enough to know Gucci from Prada, they must also know that the quality of the product bought will stand the test of time, and more importantly it all looks good on them.
They know the value of getting a manicure, but moisturising their feet will be a step too far, after all they wouldn’t want their feet to slip out of their shoes.
So what is the difference between the Old Man, the New Man and the Nigerian Man, well the simple answer is that the Nigerian man is all this and more, they are the strong, educated, and ambitious men that we want, but they are also the sensitive, sometimes unsure men that make us remember why we love them.
For those of you who are wondering what I mean, I will look to give a simple explanation.
There is the belief that the Old Man, is the Neanderthal man, the man who thinks that courting is hitting a woman over the head with a stick, and dragging her into his cave.
This man of old has supposedly evolved to the New Man.
The New Man is a man who is in touch with his emotions, has no fear of getting a facial and can be afraid of a rat (the scurrying type).
The Nigerian men on the other hand seem to be a breed of their very own they embrace the mani’s and pedi culture, but also seem obsessed with the traditional idea of what a MAN is meant to be, they in fact make the perfect metrosexual.
What is a Metrosexual I hear you ask?
Well, a metrosexual is a person who is comfortable with their masculine and feminine side, and have no inhibitions about letting that out.
It would be easy and straight forward to end it here, but like most things involving men in Nigeria, things are not so simple. Nigerian men have always been very aware of their looks and take great pride in wearing the right clothes with matching accessories.
The problem comes in when you so much as suggest they moisturise their feet they rear back in disbelief, how could you suggest such a thing, only women do that.
I asked around my girlfriends to find out their thought to the idea of the Nigerian man being a metrosexual.
Now while they admitted that the Nigerian man has all the traits, they had issues of their own. To them the Nigerian man was the man who would cuddle you at home but keep you at a distance outside, he is the person who will take hours to get ready but should the woman take an extra 5 minutes to get their lipstick right he throws a tantrum.
Since their views were rather subjective, I felt it best to go in to the lair of the Nigerian Man, to find out what they thought about the idea.
When I first asked the question the answer was predictably Neanderthal, it began from what’s that? Is it like fag? Can I get some from you? I will metro your sexual? and followed the usual round of coarse words and thinly veiled innuendos.
After the predictable response, which denoted low level brain activity and nonsensical mutterings, the new man came out.
In defining themselves, Nigerian men saw themselves as incomparable to their western counterparts.
For them it is not enough to know Gucci from Prada, they must also know that the quality of the product bought will stand the test of time, and more importantly it all looks good on them.
They know the value of getting a manicure, but moisturising their feet will be a step too far, after all they wouldn’t want their feet to slip out of their shoes.
So what is the difference between the Old Man, the New Man and the Nigerian Man, well the simple answer is that the Nigerian man is all this and more, they are the strong, educated, and ambitious men that we want, but they are also the sensitive, sometimes unsure men that make us remember why we love them.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
During the independence of 9jaria ask yourself this question, are Nigerian's literate?
Ok so I get it, reading book I’ve been told I bad for your eyes, after all that is why we have so many blind people in Nigeria, but let go with the theory that it doesn’t and wonder if Nigerians are Literate.
So if you ride on any bus in Lagos as I have had on occasion to do, you become aware of at least one person wherever the journey takes you reading a book.
The book can be about anything, from bodice ripper, to self help books, chick lit or business manuals, everybody seems inclined to love the written word and what it entails.
Now it does not take a genius to also realise that this love of the written word extends to the new crop of Nigerian writers who have flooded the national and international market with their work. Writers such as Chimamanda Adichi, Jude Dibia, Kaine Agary, Kemi Oyeyemi, Segun Adebayo and many more. Their words have infused a new generation of Nigerians with dreams of the future and memories of the past.
While the reading culture seems to be thriving in Nigeria, the level of literacy does not seem to match the amount of books being read.
This is what I mean, literacy as in the understanding and differentiation between a noun and a pronoun, a verb and an adverb, the present and the past and more simply the pronunciation of words. Now don’t look too far, but in Nigeria, that is kinda lacking.
Should you venture to speak to most of these bus readers, ask a question regarding the book/s they are reading, or to engage them in general conversation, you become aware of the lack of proficiency in their speech and the difficulty they seem to have with the pronunciation simple words.
The lack of cohesive reasoning, precise pronunciation, grammatical construct and basic word comprehension, is one which Kola Oladokun, Head of Administration for Reading For Development, believes is prevalent in Nigerian society. (I know I’m quoting experts, but I do that once in a while).
Now while Kola speaks primarily of children and the problems they face in clarification and general learning, it is plain to see that this extends to adults and their notion grammar.
The lack of literacy within young people between the ages of 20 – 30 is even more shocking when you consider the fact that a large proportion of these young Nigerians have left university without being able to string together a sentence without the aid of at least 3 people, one to write, one to provide the words and one to get it wrong.
Personally, I feel justified in saying the above because I have been on the other side of an interview where an English graduate (yes she graduated, she even showed me the certificate) told me that I should look at her resume which she pronounced reesum. This was not the only faux pas she made, she told me she had ‘travel a long distance to get here’, and that ‘people say I am very eloquent’ pronounced e-loquint.
Or the pronunciations that really blows me away, given to me no less by an esteemed member of the press who told me that one does not say ‘Forget’, no no no, they say ‘Forgit’ and that ‘Story’ as in telling a story is pronounced ‘Store-ry’. Now ask me, if such esteemed members of our press are making such mistakes, who is to blame?
Is it the government for not providing a basic curriculum for schools and following this with proper equipment, to better help educate our children from nursery to tertiary?
Is it the fault of the schools for looking at the bottom line and undermining our children’s education by putting 45 to a class?
Or is it the fault of the parents who no longer have time to sit down and discuss the nitty gritty of everyday life and homework with their children because they are after the almighty naira? I just don’t know.
On the other hand, the answer could lie simply in the explanation given to me by an ex colleague, who in a very blasé manner said ‘English is not our first language so we should not be so caught up in trying to speak it proper’.
Well with such a declaration, what else can I say……………………
Plenty!!!
I disagree with all the above reasoning’s.
I think it is the responsibility of the individual to educate themselves.
It is their choice as to whether they will accept bad teaching practices, it is their choice to go out and self educate when their schools forsake them, it is up to them to ask their parents for support in shaping their future, now if this is a small child then the parents need to shape up and take responsibility, but if they are 16 and above, SPEAK UP!!!!
Above all, it is up to individuals to see the book they are reading as a tool for betterment and not just an interesting pastime.
This issue is all important as we go into the 48th year of Nigeria’s independence, we should be able to take pride in our country, our Language and show the western world that this language that they have determined as the international is nothing to us, because we speak it better than they do, and we speak it in conjunction to our own national languages.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY NIGERIA!!!!
So if you ride on any bus in Lagos as I have had on occasion to do, you become aware of at least one person wherever the journey takes you reading a book.
The book can be about anything, from bodice ripper, to self help books, chick lit or business manuals, everybody seems inclined to love the written word and what it entails.
Now it does not take a genius to also realise that this love of the written word extends to the new crop of Nigerian writers who have flooded the national and international market with their work. Writers such as Chimamanda Adichi, Jude Dibia, Kaine Agary, Kemi Oyeyemi, Segun Adebayo and many more. Their words have infused a new generation of Nigerians with dreams of the future and memories of the past.
While the reading culture seems to be thriving in Nigeria, the level of literacy does not seem to match the amount of books being read.
This is what I mean, literacy as in the understanding and differentiation between a noun and a pronoun, a verb and an adverb, the present and the past and more simply the pronunciation of words. Now don’t look too far, but in Nigeria, that is kinda lacking.
Should you venture to speak to most of these bus readers, ask a question regarding the book/s they are reading, or to engage them in general conversation, you become aware of the lack of proficiency in their speech and the difficulty they seem to have with the pronunciation simple words.
The lack of cohesive reasoning, precise pronunciation, grammatical construct and basic word comprehension, is one which Kola Oladokun, Head of Administration for Reading For Development, believes is prevalent in Nigerian society. (I know I’m quoting experts, but I do that once in a while).
Now while Kola speaks primarily of children and the problems they face in clarification and general learning, it is plain to see that this extends to adults and their notion grammar.
The lack of literacy within young people between the ages of 20 – 30 is even more shocking when you consider the fact that a large proportion of these young Nigerians have left university without being able to string together a sentence without the aid of at least 3 people, one to write, one to provide the words and one to get it wrong.
Personally, I feel justified in saying the above because I have been on the other side of an interview where an English graduate (yes she graduated, she even showed me the certificate) told me that I should look at her resume which she pronounced reesum. This was not the only faux pas she made, she told me she had ‘travel a long distance to get here’, and that ‘people say I am very eloquent’ pronounced e-loquint.
Or the pronunciations that really blows me away, given to me no less by an esteemed member of the press who told me that one does not say ‘Forget’, no no no, they say ‘Forgit’ and that ‘Story’ as in telling a story is pronounced ‘Store-ry’. Now ask me, if such esteemed members of our press are making such mistakes, who is to blame?
Is it the government for not providing a basic curriculum for schools and following this with proper equipment, to better help educate our children from nursery to tertiary?
Is it the fault of the schools for looking at the bottom line and undermining our children’s education by putting 45 to a class?
Or is it the fault of the parents who no longer have time to sit down and discuss the nitty gritty of everyday life and homework with their children because they are after the almighty naira? I just don’t know.
On the other hand, the answer could lie simply in the explanation given to me by an ex colleague, who in a very blasé manner said ‘English is not our first language so we should not be so caught up in trying to speak it proper’.
Well with such a declaration, what else can I say……………………
Plenty!!!
I disagree with all the above reasoning’s.
I think it is the responsibility of the individual to educate themselves.
It is their choice as to whether they will accept bad teaching practices, it is their choice to go out and self educate when their schools forsake them, it is up to them to ask their parents for support in shaping their future, now if this is a small child then the parents need to shape up and take responsibility, but if they are 16 and above, SPEAK UP!!!!
Above all, it is up to individuals to see the book they are reading as a tool for betterment and not just an interesting pastime.
This issue is all important as we go into the 48th year of Nigeria’s independence, we should be able to take pride in our country, our Language and show the western world that this language that they have determined as the international is nothing to us, because we speak it better than they do, and we speak it in conjunction to our own national languages.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY NIGERIA!!!!
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Nip/ Tuck, Suck and Plump
The thorny issue of weight always seems to inadvertently lead to talk of cosmetic surgery, and the good, bad and ugly of said process. You would be hard pressed to find a magazine in Nigeria or the world over where there is no advert for cosmetic surgery, some new story about who has or who hasn’t had it, and why you should have it or alternatively why you should not have it. On many cable channels this trend is also seen from Extreme Makeover, The Swan, Beverly Hills Surgeon, and Desperate Housewives all have gone a long way in glamorising or vilifying cosmetic surgery. Whatever your personal opinion might be on the subject, cosmetic surgery is a growth industry. From liposuction to rhinoplasty, stomach stapling and breast enlargement, cosmetic surgery is making its rounds around the world, and Nigeria is not immune to its some might say dubious charms.
Nigerians do not need to look far to find evidence of the danger of cosmetic surgery, our very own previous first lady Stella Obasanjo, fell victim to its charms and unfortunately ended up dead. While this might be the case it would behove me not the mention that while there are negatives to cosmetic surgery, many a great things have been achieved from it. Many of the implements used in general surgery today owes its creation to the fact that cosmetic surgeons needed smaller needles, and more discrete forms of cutting to create that perfect façade.
At the same time, the use of cosmetic surgery to fix cleft pallets, and the ability of cosmetic surgery to reinvigorate and validate people’s view of themselves is a benefit many do not see. In this ever changing world where everybody is seeking clarification and confidence, people see cosmetic surgery as the perfect avenue to reshape, replump and generally change all that needs to be changed about themselves. All this so they can live happier lives which at one time due to a wonky nose they could not. Some people go for cosmetic surgery to repair the damage life has wrought on them, others just decide to go under the knife because they want a tighter body. Either way, cosmetic surgery is now a way of life which is seen and accepted in commercials, comedy and serious dramas.
On my end I am ambivalent to the growth of cosmetic surgery, like many people both men and women, there are thing I don’t like about my body, and things I do. Like most, I have considered the option of cutting, splicing and getting rid of the unwanted bits, but so far I have stalled, I am not a big one for pain. I have asked myself, debated with friends, put out unofficial polls as to the advantages and disadvantages, but there doesn’t seem to be a consensus as to what should be done.
I believe fervently that if cosmetic surgery is the one thing that would make your life complete, do it, but don’t complain and say somebody pushed you to it. On the other hand if you are violently opposed to even something as simple as the use of a face scrub, do not get cosmetic surgery. All I can say despite the above is that the same God, who created medical surgeons to treat the sick, also created cosmetic surgeons the fix the body. So when you get some time on your hands, do a little experiment, and look to see who has had something done and who hasn’t. I will give you a little clue, if someone cannot move their forehead and make an expression other than surprise, they have had either a face lift, or a face full of botox. As for me, I am still contemplating the move, you never know it might be just what I always wanted but never knew how to ask for.
Nigerians do not need to look far to find evidence of the danger of cosmetic surgery, our very own previous first lady Stella Obasanjo, fell victim to its charms and unfortunately ended up dead. While this might be the case it would behove me not the mention that while there are negatives to cosmetic surgery, many a great things have been achieved from it. Many of the implements used in general surgery today owes its creation to the fact that cosmetic surgeons needed smaller needles, and more discrete forms of cutting to create that perfect façade.
At the same time, the use of cosmetic surgery to fix cleft pallets, and the ability of cosmetic surgery to reinvigorate and validate people’s view of themselves is a benefit many do not see. In this ever changing world where everybody is seeking clarification and confidence, people see cosmetic surgery as the perfect avenue to reshape, replump and generally change all that needs to be changed about themselves. All this so they can live happier lives which at one time due to a wonky nose they could not. Some people go for cosmetic surgery to repair the damage life has wrought on them, others just decide to go under the knife because they want a tighter body. Either way, cosmetic surgery is now a way of life which is seen and accepted in commercials, comedy and serious dramas.
On my end I am ambivalent to the growth of cosmetic surgery, like many people both men and women, there are thing I don’t like about my body, and things I do. Like most, I have considered the option of cutting, splicing and getting rid of the unwanted bits, but so far I have stalled, I am not a big one for pain. I have asked myself, debated with friends, put out unofficial polls as to the advantages and disadvantages, but there doesn’t seem to be a consensus as to what should be done.
I believe fervently that if cosmetic surgery is the one thing that would make your life complete, do it, but don’t complain and say somebody pushed you to it. On the other hand if you are violently opposed to even something as simple as the use of a face scrub, do not get cosmetic surgery. All I can say despite the above is that the same God, who created medical surgeons to treat the sick, also created cosmetic surgeons the fix the body. So when you get some time on your hands, do a little experiment, and look to see who has had something done and who hasn’t. I will give you a little clue, if someone cannot move their forehead and make an expression other than surprise, they have had either a face lift, or a face full of botox. As for me, I am still contemplating the move, you never know it might be just what I always wanted but never knew how to ask for.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Copyright license thingy!!
She said... He Said... by Adunola Ajuwon is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at http//adunola.blogspot.com.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at htto://creativecommons.org.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
A Story in 2 Parts
Quite unexpectedly today, as I was reading online papers and magazines, I found 2 stories that fascinate me regarding Men and Women, and since I’m not one to pass up a good thing, tell me what you think about them. You can find the full story on http://adunola.blogspot.com
One is a guide that has been put together by Debretts (a chi chi etiquette and culture guide) described as the Guide for the Modern Gentleman…… does such a thing exist?
Debretts goes into the nitty gritty of what you should and should not do on a date, what you should and should not do to attract a woman etc. Check out below what they say and if you agree to it.
The second story is of a woman who has had the baby of her ex boyfriend, but has not let him know that he’s a father, and is worried about future repercussions, what advice would you give such a woman I wonder?
Debretts Guide for the Modern Gentleman
A new guide has been published giving an all-in-one guide to romance, from the first act of chivalry right through to the wedding day.
The Debrett's Guide for the Modern Gentleman gives you everything from what to say and how to say it, to making your move.
Never mind equal opportunities, old-fashioned chivalry is still alive and well and much appreciated by the fairer sex when making that all important first move.
Holding the door and being prepared to pay for the meal are a given. Giving up your seat isn't necessary for those looking for love - unless you are trying to attract a pregnant or elderly lady. Be warned though; be absolutely certain the woman is pregnant before shooting up out of your seat. These things can easily backfire.
Conversation should be a fine balance between talking and listening, and avoid talking about the three principal passions killers: money, illness or death.
First date rules include drinks or lunch, that way having to avoid wasting an evening if you hate each other. Try to compliment her and come the end, if all's gone well, try to kiss her. Don't try to get her into bed (unless that's what she wants).
For those dating with children, advanced warning that the little darlings are coming along is vital, and never ignore your kids or choose solely adult activities to impress your target.
Blind dates should be avoided, but if you find yourself set up, stick around for at least two drinks. An early departure is "humiliating and ungentlemanly".
If dating online, don't fall into the temptation of trying to be funny with your profile picture. Use a flattering one, but make sure it is realistic.
Remember, chat up lines are no substitute for eye contact and good humour.
Flowers make a splendid present, but there are pitfalls. Mixed bouquets can look cheap if not a decent size and well arranged, and bulk up the flowers with greenery. Never buy a cheap arrangement online or from a supermarket or garage, and avoid the "kiss of death" - a bunch of carnations or chrysanthemums.
As for underwear, ask for help and always, always buy what she likes and not your fantasy. Rubber and holes may be the stuff of your dreams, but it's also the quickest way to end a budding romance.
In the bedroom make sure your sheets are clean, underwear is removed from the floor and top-shelf magazines stashed away from view. Stick on some Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye. Relax (but not too much, you might nod off) and take your time.
So, all is going well and it's time to propose. Timing, location and confidence are all things you should prepare. Get down on one knee, she'll love it (and if a look of horror spreads over her face you can always pretend you're tying a shoelace).
And when it comes to choosing a diamond ring, remember the four Cs - carat, clarity, colour and cut.
If disaster strikes remember to keep your dignity and never grovel, lose your temper or try to change her mind.
Lifeclass: do fathers have the right to know about their children?
I think I am really making a mess of managing things for my baby boy. When I fell pregnant by an ex-boyfriend, I decided I was not going to tell the father, as I thought no good would come of it. He wouldn't have been pleased about the pregnancy, and he already has a daughter from a previous relationship.
But now I am not sure what to do. I could phone up my baby's father and come clean, but I wonder if this is necessary. Would my child have just as happy a childhood without a father in his life? He has so many people who love him already; does he even need a father?
I am not sure that my ex would want to know anything about it, so would my son one day feel crushed because he had been rejected? He is five months old, by the way. I really don't want to make that telephone call. I'm afraid that the fallout would take months to settle down. What should I do?
One is a guide that has been put together by Debretts (a chi chi etiquette and culture guide) described as the Guide for the Modern Gentleman…… does such a thing exist?
Debretts goes into the nitty gritty of what you should and should not do on a date, what you should and should not do to attract a woman etc. Check out below what they say and if you agree to it.
The second story is of a woman who has had the baby of her ex boyfriend, but has not let him know that he’s a father, and is worried about future repercussions, what advice would you give such a woman I wonder?
Debretts Guide for the Modern Gentleman
A new guide has been published giving an all-in-one guide to romance, from the first act of chivalry right through to the wedding day.
The Debrett's Guide for the Modern Gentleman gives you everything from what to say and how to say it, to making your move.
Never mind equal opportunities, old-fashioned chivalry is still alive and well and much appreciated by the fairer sex when making that all important first move.
Holding the door and being prepared to pay for the meal are a given. Giving up your seat isn't necessary for those looking for love - unless you are trying to attract a pregnant or elderly lady. Be warned though; be absolutely certain the woman is pregnant before shooting up out of your seat. These things can easily backfire.
Conversation should be a fine balance between talking and listening, and avoid talking about the three principal passions killers: money, illness or death.
First date rules include drinks or lunch, that way having to avoid wasting an evening if you hate each other. Try to compliment her and come the end, if all's gone well, try to kiss her. Don't try to get her into bed (unless that's what she wants).
For those dating with children, advanced warning that the little darlings are coming along is vital, and never ignore your kids or choose solely adult activities to impress your target.
Blind dates should be avoided, but if you find yourself set up, stick around for at least two drinks. An early departure is "humiliating and ungentlemanly".
If dating online, don't fall into the temptation of trying to be funny with your profile picture. Use a flattering one, but make sure it is realistic.
Remember, chat up lines are no substitute for eye contact and good humour.
Flowers make a splendid present, but there are pitfalls. Mixed bouquets can look cheap if not a decent size and well arranged, and bulk up the flowers with greenery. Never buy a cheap arrangement online or from a supermarket or garage, and avoid the "kiss of death" - a bunch of carnations or chrysanthemums.
As for underwear, ask for help and always, always buy what she likes and not your fantasy. Rubber and holes may be the stuff of your dreams, but it's also the quickest way to end a budding romance.
In the bedroom make sure your sheets are clean, underwear is removed from the floor and top-shelf magazines stashed away from view. Stick on some Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye. Relax (but not too much, you might nod off) and take your time.
So, all is going well and it's time to propose. Timing, location and confidence are all things you should prepare. Get down on one knee, she'll love it (and if a look of horror spreads over her face you can always pretend you're tying a shoelace).
And when it comes to choosing a diamond ring, remember the four Cs - carat, clarity, colour and cut.
If disaster strikes remember to keep your dignity and never grovel, lose your temper or try to change her mind.
Lifeclass: do fathers have the right to know about their children?
I think I am really making a mess of managing things for my baby boy. When I fell pregnant by an ex-boyfriend, I decided I was not going to tell the father, as I thought no good would come of it. He wouldn't have been pleased about the pregnancy, and he already has a daughter from a previous relationship.
But now I am not sure what to do. I could phone up my baby's father and come clean, but I wonder if this is necessary. Would my child have just as happy a childhood without a father in his life? He has so many people who love him already; does he even need a father?
I am not sure that my ex would want to know anything about it, so would my son one day feel crushed because he had been rejected? He is five months old, by the way. I really don't want to make that telephone call. I'm afraid that the fallout would take months to settle down. What should I do?
Monday, September 22, 2008
Men and Sex
Do you know that scientific fact has shown that men are losing their libidos at a younger age. Supposedly men become less interested in sex and are more likely to be the ones to plead headaches as they reach their late 20's.
The question then is if more men are losing interest in sex by their late 20's why do 40 and above men insist on hitting on girls half or a quarter of their age, is it an ego thing, or does the science just have it wrong?
The question then is if more men are losing interest in sex by their late 20's why do 40 and above men insist on hitting on girls half or a quarter of their age, is it an ego thing, or does the science just have it wrong?
Can a woman live alone in Nigeria?
An odd thing happened to me this morning at about 3 am, I burst out of sleep, sweat dripping from me with a scream half on my lips, and a sense of disturbance in the air, I knew, I felt……. (Ok so was not at 3am, it was at about 6.30 when my alarm went off, I was dripping with sweat cus PHCN took light like that’s new, and the scream was real as well cus I realised it was morning) Either way my awakening brought with it a thought that had been in my mind for a while.
Why must women in Nigeria even at a 100 still live with their parents or ‘responsible married relative’ if they themselves are unmarried?
This is not the usual thought I have when I wake up in the morning, but since I was looking for an excuse not to leave my bed, I continued in thought.
I’ve found and still find the whole thing appalling (I say as I live in the BQ of my parents house….. at least I moved out of the main house and cook my meal, do my laundry etc) but the notion that as a ‘young unmarried woman’ you must be protected by the family to preserve your ‘propriety’, has always seemed a bit prehistoric to me. After all I have lived by myself for many years before my return to Nigeria, but to my parents the idea of living by myself is tantamount to running down the street naked.
When I was returning to Nigeria, other than the 2 week decision and dash to the airport to escape cold, black and grey and my friends who had gotten sick and tired of me trying to make my mind up, I had told my parents that I was not living with them. Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents, but the idea of being in the same house with my parents, with them doing the nosy parents thing, was more than I could bear, in fact that brings on the shiver in a way snow, sleet and hale can never do. But life being life and circumstance being as it is, the decision was made for me (money no dey), and the 4 months I spent in the main house nearly ruined our relationship. They were their usual overbearing self, and I turned into an annoying, stroppy 14 year old (yes I have to admit I regressed, I don’t know how they do it, they just do), seeing that I love my parents and they love me, I thought it would be better to move to the BQ and get some form of my indepencence back.
You might wonder what this has to do with She Said…. He Said…., but I’m getting to it. Since my move out of the ‘big house’, I’ve been asking my friends (male and female) how they feel living with their parents, and their answers vary from alright to its stifling but I don’t have a choice, on the women’s side, to I would only marry a woman who comes from her parents house and women who live by themselves are loose from the men.
For women the convenience of having someone do their cleaning, cooking and the saving they make on rent is worth the small discomfort of having no privacy. For others they believe that they would have their ‘bride price’ reduced if they live by themselves, and for a third it’s the lesser of 2 evils, and nothing wards of unwanted and in some cases wanted attention like. ‘My parents are home’, ‘We have a really big gate/dog/gateman’, or the forever great, ‘I can’t go out after 10pm cus my parents would go mad’. The shame and embarrassment of it all.
For men, there seems to be a consensus that ‘men are dangerous’ and that women should be protected from them, so any woman who can ‘handle’ men must be a woman used to such dangers and not worthy of being wifey, but not missy.
What do you think?
Why must women in Nigeria even at a 100 still live with their parents or ‘responsible married relative’ if they themselves are unmarried?
This is not the usual thought I have when I wake up in the morning, but since I was looking for an excuse not to leave my bed, I continued in thought.
I’ve found and still find the whole thing appalling (I say as I live in the BQ of my parents house….. at least I moved out of the main house and cook my meal, do my laundry etc) but the notion that as a ‘young unmarried woman’ you must be protected by the family to preserve your ‘propriety’, has always seemed a bit prehistoric to me. After all I have lived by myself for many years before my return to Nigeria, but to my parents the idea of living by myself is tantamount to running down the street naked.
When I was returning to Nigeria, other than the 2 week decision and dash to the airport to escape cold, black and grey and my friends who had gotten sick and tired of me trying to make my mind up, I had told my parents that I was not living with them. Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents, but the idea of being in the same house with my parents, with them doing the nosy parents thing, was more than I could bear, in fact that brings on the shiver in a way snow, sleet and hale can never do. But life being life and circumstance being as it is, the decision was made for me (money no dey), and the 4 months I spent in the main house nearly ruined our relationship. They were their usual overbearing self, and I turned into an annoying, stroppy 14 year old (yes I have to admit I regressed, I don’t know how they do it, they just do), seeing that I love my parents and they love me, I thought it would be better to move to the BQ and get some form of my indepencence back.
You might wonder what this has to do with She Said…. He Said…., but I’m getting to it. Since my move out of the ‘big house’, I’ve been asking my friends (male and female) how they feel living with their parents, and their answers vary from alright to its stifling but I don’t have a choice, on the women’s side, to I would only marry a woman who comes from her parents house and women who live by themselves are loose from the men.
For women the convenience of having someone do their cleaning, cooking and the saving they make on rent is worth the small discomfort of having no privacy. For others they believe that they would have their ‘bride price’ reduced if they live by themselves, and for a third it’s the lesser of 2 evils, and nothing wards of unwanted and in some cases wanted attention like. ‘My parents are home’, ‘We have a really big gate/dog/gateman’, or the forever great, ‘I can’t go out after 10pm cus my parents would go mad’. The shame and embarrassment of it all.
For men, there seems to be a consensus that ‘men are dangerous’ and that women should be protected from them, so any woman who can ‘handle’ men must be a woman used to such dangers and not worthy of being wifey, but not missy.
What do you think?
The Pregnant Man
When I heard on that Oprah had a pregnant man on her show, I was ecstatic, now, now, now, men can experience the backache, headaches, swollen ankles and nine months of carrying something about 8 pounds on your bladder, and not least, actually having to give birth. Damn a woman’s life ain’t easy (I’ve never been pregnant, but I’ve heard stories). So imagine my dismay when I read the story that it wasn’t quite as kosher as I thought.
The story it seems is that a transgender man (was a woman now is a man), decided to be impregnated because his wife had a hysterectomy and could not carry a child. He it seems when he was changing sex decided not to remove his female sexual organ and reproductive tract.
Don’t get me wrong, I see nothing wrong with being transgender, hey whatever works for you (I personally have no wish to be a guy, I mean 24 hours a day grabbing your crotch does not seem like fun to me. Besides we get better shoes), but I was so disappointed because I thought I could be saved the hell of child birth pain and stretch marks (I know I’ve not had kids, but I’ve heard from good sources that it bites the big one).
So imagine how excited, ecstatic and absolutely off the wall I was when I found out that men could be impregnated, without becoming women. Yes it seems that a fertilsed egg can be put in the stomach lining of the man, then and for an umbilical cord attach a hose/ pipe to the stomach, of course hormones need to be taken, but what is a little bit of body altering chemistry between friends/ or partners. (They tried it on chimps and they got preggers).
Now I would never force man to get pregnant, but if the option was there that they would be preggers, men might be less inclined to say ‘No baby lets let the rubber go tonight’. If they had to carry the baby, and deal with painful and rubbery nipples maybe they will not be so eager for sex 2 weeks after birthing. On the off chance that your man wants to try the getting pregnant thing, a few things to bear in mind:
He would probably make a whole deal of fuss as the ‘first man to ever carry a child’. Ignore it, women have been doing it forever and we are still around. Suck it up
He would want to have a 24 months maternity leave to recover from the traumatic process, and want you at home to take care of him. Say no, if women can survive on 6 weeks maternity so can he
Should he complain that he can’t see his feet, pat him on the back and say….. you don’t look at all like a whale to me baby, just a little oil tanker
The story it seems is that a transgender man (was a woman now is a man), decided to be impregnated because his wife had a hysterectomy and could not carry a child. He it seems when he was changing sex decided not to remove his female sexual organ and reproductive tract.
Don’t get me wrong, I see nothing wrong with being transgender, hey whatever works for you (I personally have no wish to be a guy, I mean 24 hours a day grabbing your crotch does not seem like fun to me. Besides we get better shoes), but I was so disappointed because I thought I could be saved the hell of child birth pain and stretch marks (I know I’ve not had kids, but I’ve heard from good sources that it bites the big one).
So imagine how excited, ecstatic and absolutely off the wall I was when I found out that men could be impregnated, without becoming women. Yes it seems that a fertilsed egg can be put in the stomach lining of the man, then and for an umbilical cord attach a hose/ pipe to the stomach, of course hormones need to be taken, but what is a little bit of body altering chemistry between friends/ or partners. (They tried it on chimps and they got preggers).
Now I would never force man to get pregnant, but if the option was there that they would be preggers, men might be less inclined to say ‘No baby lets let the rubber go tonight’. If they had to carry the baby, and deal with painful and rubbery nipples maybe they will not be so eager for sex 2 weeks after birthing. On the off chance that your man wants to try the getting pregnant thing, a few things to bear in mind:
He would probably make a whole deal of fuss as the ‘first man to ever carry a child’. Ignore it, women have been doing it forever and we are still around. Suck it up
He would want to have a 24 months maternity leave to recover from the traumatic process, and want you at home to take care of him. Say no, if women can survive on 6 weeks maternity so can he
Should he complain that he can’t see his feet, pat him on the back and say….. you don’t look at all like a whale to me baby, just a little oil tanker
Code Names of Boyfriends Past
mR Loverman
Crash and Burn
Heartbreak Kid
MR COOL
not a hope in hell
Sweetie Darling
quick balm
Swede
Sin
Avalanche
love no more
love lots more
Leanback
Snakeback
Snake
Crash and Burn
Heartbreak Kid
MR COOL
not a hope in hell
Sweetie Darling
quick balm
Swede
Sin
Avalanche
love no more
love lots more
Leanback
Snakeback
Snake
Seeking Lust over Love
This is such a template response for most dudes. And its simple…guys want the easy route out of relationships. That way they don’t get to commit so much. It’s a typical example of eating your cake n having it. Basically its about sitting on the fence undecided, while enjoying the benefit and safety of neither being here nor there.
People are different, we are all cut from different fabrics. We all go thru the motions of heartbreaks and disappointments. Everyone has lost a cherished relationship at one point or the other in life. I ve never believed in transferred aggressions. I ve always approached my relationships with a certain state of mind…..she is DIFFERENT and that’s the only reason why we are considering a relationship.. Just cos yr last chic left the way she did don’t mean the next one will. Its all in the mind. We need to understand that we control how we get over emotional pain to a large extent.
Sweet memories linger, and hurt like hell after break ups. Recalling all the stuff you had in common, the music, the food, the movies u saw together, the little gifts exchanged, pictures, mails, your engaged /relationship status on facebook?, common friends, etc . it all culminates into pain and loneliness when its over. But may I ask? Whut is really permanent in life?
People change. People fall out of love and explore new directions. It takes the Divine and a lot of creativity to stay growing, so keep working on both you heard?
Dudes need to get real and skip all the excuses. Chics as well. There are no guarantees so learn to give it your best when its on…
Marriage is bliss afterall
People are different, we are all cut from different fabrics. We all go thru the motions of heartbreaks and disappointments. Everyone has lost a cherished relationship at one point or the other in life. I ve never believed in transferred aggressions. I ve always approached my relationships with a certain state of mind…..she is DIFFERENT and that’s the only reason why we are considering a relationship.. Just cos yr last chic left the way she did don’t mean the next one will. Its all in the mind. We need to understand that we control how we get over emotional pain to a large extent.
Sweet memories linger, and hurt like hell after break ups. Recalling all the stuff you had in common, the music, the food, the movies u saw together, the little gifts exchanged, pictures, mails, your engaged /relationship status on facebook?, common friends, etc . it all culminates into pain and loneliness when its over. But may I ask? Whut is really permanent in life?
People change. People fall out of love and explore new directions. It takes the Divine and a lot of creativity to stay growing, so keep working on both you heard?
Dudes need to get real and skip all the excuses. Chics as well. There are no guarantees so learn to give it your best when its on…
Marriage is bliss afterall
The Broken Hearted Man
I am officially according to my mother about to be left on the shelf. To her at 26 I should not only be married but also continuing the family line. While as a rule when conversations with my mother relating to marriage comes up, I suddenly remember I have something else to do, recent changes relationship wise in my family has prompted me to if not seek marriage, at least have some poor guy on lockdown.
Unfortunately that is where my trouble begins, because I have found in Nigeria a new breed, a species that I only heard about in the western world. One I suspect is only in Nigeria as a new tactic in getting something other than a relationship,…… it’s the broken hearted man.
Yes I said it, men do get broken hearted, but while I have always known this to be the case, this is the first time, I ever heard of one who was so hurt by the breakdown of a relationship, they cannot phantom being in another one. Now, I’m a sensible type of girl, I understand that romance is key in many relationships, but don’t get over reliant on it and base your relationship on it. I know relationships break and sometime there is nothing either party can do about it, but the idea that one heartbreak destroys the prospect of getting into another relationship forever, that I am not sensible about.
As a rule, these are not issues I would mention, after all one instance is not the norm, but in this case, it seems to be. The particular man that I speak about is the third in as many men I have spoken to about relationships (No, I’m not stalking or hunting them down, yet) that it seems has been so scarred by the pangs of love they cannot see themselves ever getting married. One in fact told me that the scars love has left on him, has made him not seek love, instead seek lust. Ummm.
A likely excuse to get up to no good I say, but while one might mock, this new found sensitivity in men, I do have to ask the question have women’s power gotten to be so great that men cannot recover from our presence, or are men just finding a new way to get the milk without buying the cow? After all what is more alluring than a man who is so sensitive he can truly falls so deeply in love.
Unfortunately that is where my trouble begins, because I have found in Nigeria a new breed, a species that I only heard about in the western world. One I suspect is only in Nigeria as a new tactic in getting something other than a relationship,…… it’s the broken hearted man.
Yes I said it, men do get broken hearted, but while I have always known this to be the case, this is the first time, I ever heard of one who was so hurt by the breakdown of a relationship, they cannot phantom being in another one. Now, I’m a sensible type of girl, I understand that romance is key in many relationships, but don’t get over reliant on it and base your relationship on it. I know relationships break and sometime there is nothing either party can do about it, but the idea that one heartbreak destroys the prospect of getting into another relationship forever, that I am not sensible about.
As a rule, these are not issues I would mention, after all one instance is not the norm, but in this case, it seems to be. The particular man that I speak about is the third in as many men I have spoken to about relationships (No, I’m not stalking or hunting them down, yet) that it seems has been so scarred by the pangs of love they cannot see themselves ever getting married. One in fact told me that the scars love has left on him, has made him not seek love, instead seek lust. Ummm.
A likely excuse to get up to no good I say, but while one might mock, this new found sensitivity in men, I do have to ask the question have women’s power gotten to be so great that men cannot recover from our presence, or are men just finding a new way to get the milk without buying the cow? After all what is more alluring than a man who is so sensitive he can truly falls so deeply in love.
Without Colour
So I have feelings for you
So what
I’m a mass of feelings
Bubbling over in all direction
A mass of screaming and retractions
Forever knowing but elusive
So I have feelings for you
Did I make you responsible for my feelings?
Did I ask you to find out if you were needed?
Was I the one billing and cooing over the phone to
Ronke, Tope, Cynthia, Amina and a few others thrown in
No I was the one who walked in hearing it
The one who walked in on you
With Sarah, Kike and Folashade
Oh the horror
I don’t think I will ever see colour again
I mean really my doctor calls it post traumatic disorder
I call it see your fat arse in motion.
So I have feelings for you
Don’t worry I’ll deal with them
Just as I dealt with you.
So what
I’m a mass of feelings
Bubbling over in all direction
A mass of screaming and retractions
Forever knowing but elusive
So I have feelings for you
Did I make you responsible for my feelings?
Did I ask you to find out if you were needed?
Was I the one billing and cooing over the phone to
Ronke, Tope, Cynthia, Amina and a few others thrown in
No I was the one who walked in hearing it
The one who walked in on you
With Sarah, Kike and Folashade
Oh the horror
I don’t think I will ever see colour again
I mean really my doctor calls it post traumatic disorder
I call it see your fat arse in motion.
So I have feelings for you
Don’t worry I’ll deal with them
Just as I dealt with you.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Rubutu
I have always been plump, as a baby, I had the soft roundness all babies tend to have, my sister likened me to a ball. Supposedly, she could sometimes barely resist the urge to roll me on the floor. My plumpness as a baby lead my parents to give me the nickname ‘rubutu’ which if my interpretation is correct means, ‘round’.
As I grew up, I went through the usual skinny, fat, skinny, fat stage, until I stopped growing and ended on the ‘fat’ phase. I have not lost the excess weight I have on my frame which some see as puppy fat, but since I stopped being a puppy some time ago we might as well call it ‘dog’ fat.
The reason I start with this story is that it’s similar to the passage of many young Nigerian girls and women. I have a problem with my weight, or rather, others have a problem with my weight and they try to make it my problem. As young women, we are either too fat or too skinny, our faces would be prettier if we lost some weight from it, or added some fat to it, but what has brought about this overriding concern for weight in the Nigerian subconscious.
At one time, the sight of some extra weight on a Nigerian woman was seen as a good thing, she was a woman who knew how to cook, and most probably came from a background of stature (in more ways than one). After all only a woman whose family can afford it can produce a well fed woman. As time has gone by and certain ideologies have changed, a well fleshed woman for the longest time was still seen as a positive, but in recent history, a change has occurred. The sight of Naomi Campbell, Liya Kebede and many others has brought about a change in what we call weight and this change has introduced scales into our bathrooms. Scales that at one time were used only as a tool to make sure you were not carrying more than your travel luggage allowance, now rule how we view ourselves and what we eat.
Some would mention the health risks that being heavier causes, and others the reluctance of men to have relationships with heavier women, but this has its loop holes. For instance, I am a young woman in her mid twenties, I am fit, have no indications of high blood pressure, joint aches, or high cholesterol, in fact I am as fit as a fiddle and healthy as a horse, (doctor terms for certification), I just carry a bit extra. In regards to the arguments on men and their likes and dislikes, I have found in personal encounters that men, who are interested in me, are interested in me, regardless of my weight, and those who are not, will never be even if I were a size 00.
The issue of size and weight is also fascinatingly a female problem, men get fat, with little or large pot bellies, 3 chins and swollen ankles, but such images and ideas are not acceptable for women. While both men and women can be critical about weight, women seem more likely to have a personal vendetta against it in other women. Men would say, I don’t have a problem with it or simply state their preference; women will continually pick on the issue, and make an event of it. The weighty subject of weight is one which Nigerians have issues with, on one hand the western ideology of skinny is good (you can never be too thin or too rich) is in contradiction to the Nigerian idea that if you are slim you are a Lepa or if you are big, you should not be caught with anything food like near your mouth.
As I grew up, I went through the usual skinny, fat, skinny, fat stage, until I stopped growing and ended on the ‘fat’ phase. I have not lost the excess weight I have on my frame which some see as puppy fat, but since I stopped being a puppy some time ago we might as well call it ‘dog’ fat.
The reason I start with this story is that it’s similar to the passage of many young Nigerian girls and women. I have a problem with my weight, or rather, others have a problem with my weight and they try to make it my problem. As young women, we are either too fat or too skinny, our faces would be prettier if we lost some weight from it, or added some fat to it, but what has brought about this overriding concern for weight in the Nigerian subconscious.
At one time, the sight of some extra weight on a Nigerian woman was seen as a good thing, she was a woman who knew how to cook, and most probably came from a background of stature (in more ways than one). After all only a woman whose family can afford it can produce a well fed woman. As time has gone by and certain ideologies have changed, a well fleshed woman for the longest time was still seen as a positive, but in recent history, a change has occurred. The sight of Naomi Campbell, Liya Kebede and many others has brought about a change in what we call weight and this change has introduced scales into our bathrooms. Scales that at one time were used only as a tool to make sure you were not carrying more than your travel luggage allowance, now rule how we view ourselves and what we eat.
Some would mention the health risks that being heavier causes, and others the reluctance of men to have relationships with heavier women, but this has its loop holes. For instance, I am a young woman in her mid twenties, I am fit, have no indications of high blood pressure, joint aches, or high cholesterol, in fact I am as fit as a fiddle and healthy as a horse, (doctor terms for certification), I just carry a bit extra. In regards to the arguments on men and their likes and dislikes, I have found in personal encounters that men, who are interested in me, are interested in me, regardless of my weight, and those who are not, will never be even if I were a size 00.
The issue of size and weight is also fascinatingly a female problem, men get fat, with little or large pot bellies, 3 chins and swollen ankles, but such images and ideas are not acceptable for women. While both men and women can be critical about weight, women seem more likely to have a personal vendetta against it in other women. Men would say, I don’t have a problem with it or simply state their preference; women will continually pick on the issue, and make an event of it. The weighty subject of weight is one which Nigerians have issues with, on one hand the western ideology of skinny is good (you can never be too thin or too rich) is in contradiction to the Nigerian idea that if you are slim you are a Lepa or if you are big, you should not be caught with anything food like near your mouth.
Monday, September 8, 2008
HO MUSINGS
Low tops, short skirts
Tripping in my high heels
Short shorts, tank tops
Boobs falling everywhere
Though the clothes were bought by ma
It is seen as scandalous
Even when I wonder how
Style and fashion are the fight
Never to marry in Nigeria
Because I love my low cut tops
And can’t live without my FM heels
So I guess I’ll move away
So I can marry someplace elsewhere,
Shame
If I move away
To find my love and life
At least I can let my arse hang out
And let my bountiful breast jiggle delightfully
But at least I would be saved
From all’s double standards
And can continue with my scandalous ways.
Adunola Ajuwon © 2008
Tripping in my high heels
Short shorts, tank tops
Boobs falling everywhere
Though the clothes were bought by ma
It is seen as scandalous
Even when I wonder how
Style and fashion are the fight
Never to marry in Nigeria
Because I love my low cut tops
And can’t live without my FM heels
So I guess I’ll move away
So I can marry someplace elsewhere,
Shame
If I move away
To find my love and life
At least I can let my arse hang out
And let my bountiful breast jiggle delightfully
But at least I would be saved
From all’s double standards
And can continue with my scandalous ways.
Adunola Ajuwon © 2008
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Cover up or bare all
Recently, a friend and I went to the Palms in Lekki, having just watched a film, we decided to wander around the centre, because we were both reluctant to go home, to bad TV and mediocre conversations. As we got off the staircase, our eyes were confronted with what I can only describe as a girl, who couldn’t be more than 17 displayed in an extremely low cut and short dress.
I’m not one to automatically see the display of flesh as a thing of shock, but girlfriend, was showing all for the world to see. Her dress was so short that should she even have thought of bending down to pick anything up, the world would have become her gynecologist. When my friend and I saw this, we stifled our giggle and walked away quickly, but as the visit continued I became aware of the general state of people’s clothing in the mall. The women both young and old where wearing, tight, short and revealing clothing, the boys and men seemed obsessed with showing off their boxers and letting everybody in on the brand they had chosen for the day.
There seems to be a renaissance in the air; young and old Nigerian generations apart seem to have discovered the value of crop tops, tight jeans, backless dresses and low slung pants during the day. It’s no longer a taboo to stride along the roads of Lagos in any of the above flashing all for the world to see. What is even more surprising is that parents rarely ask their children to change or ban them from leaving the house when they see them in what could be considered inappropriate clothing. For the older generation, being seen in something better suited for their children does not faze them, instead it confirm they are ‘down with the kids’. But where did the acceptance of such attires come from and is there any value in it, particularly as Nigerian dress culture is one of covering, from head to toe in some instances.
In the North, women are dressed in Kaftans, Jilbabs, Hijabs, and men are in Dahsikis, and long trousers. In the south south, womens traditional wear includes a blouse and a wrapper, two wrappers in fact and men in buba’s and wrappers. In the south west, women wear Iro’s and Buba’s and men Agbada’s and trousers. All of these clothes while enhancing the body still cover you up from neck to toe.
So why is it that Nigerians have now become obsessed with the idea of revealing all, why is it that even when making our own traditional wear we are going for the shorter, tighter version of what there is. There are many explanations for this, some see it as the western influence permeating the Nigerian one, and corrupting our young and old and making them believe that they are not good enough until they are half naked. Others see it as a reflection of change, after all fashion is forever changing and the fashion of the time is short and tight. For those who choose to remember, some of our parents who are now complaining at one time wore mini iro’s, and our fathers wore chest revealing buba’s, so why should the new fashion be seen as a negative?
Either way this fashion of low and high seems to be making headway, though it should be noted that the Island and mainland of Lagos, have key ideas as to the way Nigerians, particularly women should dress. On the island, wearing short short’s and low tops, is so natural, it doesn’t make an impression, but go onto the mainland in the same outfit and you get a different reception altogether.. On the mainland, wearing the same will label you as a ‘woman of easy virtue’, or alternatively ‘an ill taught child’. I had always seen myself as a ‘freedom of expression in how you dress’, kind of a person, but the ‘incident at the Palms’ as the event is now known as has shown me that in some cases I am not. I have reservations about overly exposed body part. I am not against spaghetti straps, and short short’s, but in the proper setting, not when I am walking around in a mall. This proves even more distressing for me particularly if I am confronted with gynecological shots that should be kept between you and your doctor. As the adage says, ‘cut your cloth to suit you, do not insist on trying to fit your body into a too small piece or cloth’, even if it is spandex.
I’m not one to automatically see the display of flesh as a thing of shock, but girlfriend, was showing all for the world to see. Her dress was so short that should she even have thought of bending down to pick anything up, the world would have become her gynecologist. When my friend and I saw this, we stifled our giggle and walked away quickly, but as the visit continued I became aware of the general state of people’s clothing in the mall. The women both young and old where wearing, tight, short and revealing clothing, the boys and men seemed obsessed with showing off their boxers and letting everybody in on the brand they had chosen for the day.
There seems to be a renaissance in the air; young and old Nigerian generations apart seem to have discovered the value of crop tops, tight jeans, backless dresses and low slung pants during the day. It’s no longer a taboo to stride along the roads of Lagos in any of the above flashing all for the world to see. What is even more surprising is that parents rarely ask their children to change or ban them from leaving the house when they see them in what could be considered inappropriate clothing. For the older generation, being seen in something better suited for their children does not faze them, instead it confirm they are ‘down with the kids’. But where did the acceptance of such attires come from and is there any value in it, particularly as Nigerian dress culture is one of covering, from head to toe in some instances.
In the North, women are dressed in Kaftans, Jilbabs, Hijabs, and men are in Dahsikis, and long trousers. In the south south, womens traditional wear includes a blouse and a wrapper, two wrappers in fact and men in buba’s and wrappers. In the south west, women wear Iro’s and Buba’s and men Agbada’s and trousers. All of these clothes while enhancing the body still cover you up from neck to toe.
So why is it that Nigerians have now become obsessed with the idea of revealing all, why is it that even when making our own traditional wear we are going for the shorter, tighter version of what there is. There are many explanations for this, some see it as the western influence permeating the Nigerian one, and corrupting our young and old and making them believe that they are not good enough until they are half naked. Others see it as a reflection of change, after all fashion is forever changing and the fashion of the time is short and tight. For those who choose to remember, some of our parents who are now complaining at one time wore mini iro’s, and our fathers wore chest revealing buba’s, so why should the new fashion be seen as a negative?
Either way this fashion of low and high seems to be making headway, though it should be noted that the Island and mainland of Lagos, have key ideas as to the way Nigerians, particularly women should dress. On the island, wearing short short’s and low tops, is so natural, it doesn’t make an impression, but go onto the mainland in the same outfit and you get a different reception altogether.. On the mainland, wearing the same will label you as a ‘woman of easy virtue’, or alternatively ‘an ill taught child’. I had always seen myself as a ‘freedom of expression in how you dress’, kind of a person, but the ‘incident at the Palms’ as the event is now known as has shown me that in some cases I am not. I have reservations about overly exposed body part. I am not against spaghetti straps, and short short’s, but in the proper setting, not when I am walking around in a mall. This proves even more distressing for me particularly if I am confronted with gynecological shots that should be kept between you and your doctor. As the adage says, ‘cut your cloth to suit you, do not insist on trying to fit your body into a too small piece or cloth’, even if it is spandex.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
He believed in me fully
He believed in me fully
It wasn’t that I couldn’t do it
It was that I was not ready to do it
It wasn’t that I wasn’t good enough
It was that it was wrong for me
He followed me when I left him behind
He acknowledged me when I needed validation
I was never alone
Because he would talk to me regardless of the time
He needed me
The way I need him
When I had to leave he supported me
He never said it was too little
He never said it was too grand
My dreams were an extension of his
I COULD BE ANYTHING I WANTED TO BE
In his eyes, I was Boudecia
Cleopatra and Oshun all in one
I will miss him
I always thought I would be there when he left
But I wasn’t
I was not there when he needed me the most
I lost our talk to my selfishness
I did not forget
But did not take the time to remember
I did not find out for 8 months
8 months of postponed phone calls
8 months of email sent and returned
8 months of searches I did not put my heart in
8 months of not going back
I miss my friend
I miss him so much
He thought I could do it all
I could travel the world
Be the greatest actress that ever lived
Write the book that will redefine a generation
Make documentaries that will reveal all
Run for president and win
Make my mark in a world with so many
I was never less to him
I was more
I was loved
I was wanted
I was queen
I was
I was
I was
I was
I was
I was
I was
Oh why, why did you not wait for me
Why did you not let me know
Why did you leave me
Oh I’ll miss you
With my every breath
I miss you
My tears are not really of sadness
They just tears to help me remember
All that you meant to me
And all that I meant to you
We Found Paradise
And made it into a tourist documentary
I will go back
I will go to all the places I didn’t go then
I will record it
I will air it
I will try to be all you saw me to be
I WILL be all you saw me to be
I will never forget
My friend
Never
For Philip
It wasn’t that I couldn’t do it
It was that I was not ready to do it
It wasn’t that I wasn’t good enough
It was that it was wrong for me
He followed me when I left him behind
He acknowledged me when I needed validation
I was never alone
Because he would talk to me regardless of the time
He needed me
The way I need him
When I had to leave he supported me
He never said it was too little
He never said it was too grand
My dreams were an extension of his
I COULD BE ANYTHING I WANTED TO BE
In his eyes, I was Boudecia
Cleopatra and Oshun all in one
I will miss him
I always thought I would be there when he left
But I wasn’t
I was not there when he needed me the most
I lost our talk to my selfishness
I did not forget
But did not take the time to remember
I did not find out for 8 months
8 months of postponed phone calls
8 months of email sent and returned
8 months of searches I did not put my heart in
8 months of not going back
I miss my friend
I miss him so much
He thought I could do it all
I could travel the world
Be the greatest actress that ever lived
Write the book that will redefine a generation
Make documentaries that will reveal all
Run for president and win
Make my mark in a world with so many
I was never less to him
I was more
I was loved
I was wanted
I was queen
I was
I was
I was
I was
I was
I was
I was
Oh why, why did you not wait for me
Why did you not let me know
Why did you leave me
Oh I’ll miss you
With my every breath
I miss you
My tears are not really of sadness
They just tears to help me remember
All that you meant to me
And all that I meant to you
We Found Paradise
And made it into a tourist documentary
I will go back
I will go to all the places I didn’t go then
I will record it
I will air it
I will try to be all you saw me to be
I WILL be all you saw me to be
I will never forget
My friend
Never
For Philip
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Seeking Equality: If you want me to pick up half the slack at home bring in the same wage
Having returned from the United Kingdom with what my mother calls ‘Oyinbo’ mentality, this idea according to her follows that I don’t think like a 9ja chick, instead I’m trying to imbued Nigeria with ideas I learnt in England.
The impetus for this particular move by my mother was when I commented that I am struck by how Nigerian women view themselves and their role both at home and at work. Don’t get me wrong I am not an advocate for burning bras, (I spend a lot of money buying my bras), but I am very much for equality in and out of the home, and the necessity of seeing work as more than a forum for finding a husband. But it strikes me as unfair that women who work as many hours as men for less pay, ends up also going home to keep house and children?
This is my opinion and prejudice, but if you ask my mother, who takes gains great joy and satisfaction from being a housewife, she would tell you that it’s a woman’s role to look after her husband and home. More importantly, my mother believes that the juggling of home and work should be a source of joy and evidence of the woman’s ability to multitask. On the other hand, if you ask a female Oyinbo returnee they might say ‘fight the power of male misogyny, unchain yourself from the kitchen sink, live for the present and not the past’. The average young Nigerian woman of today on the other hand, might be more inclined to dissuade such talk as it would limit the chances of getting a husband.
What it seems that always presents a problem in Nigeria is that even though men would say that they respect the woman’s role both at home and at work, there is the slight whiff of misogyny in the way men view women. Ultimately most men would rather see women as mothers and whore instead of a whole being. But is this really the case? Do man have such narrow views of women?
To find out this and better understanding of the role of Nigerian women, I decided to ask the only demographic which always seems to be left out of the discussion regarding traditional roles of women, Men.
When discussing women and tradition, men take the brunt of the blame, ‘they subjugated us’, ‘they are keeping us down’, ‘they have made life unbearable because of their demands’, so much blame so little clarification. In a recent discussion with the male of the species, I discovered a few very interesting things, men do not want powerless women in their lives. They see it as ‘too much like hard work’ having to prop up a woman with insecurities and dependence issues. What most of the men I have spoken with say about traditional roles of women is that it is bunkum, that women have always had power.
Women they say are the only ones who know what to do to either annoy or lift their men and family, they are the support mechanism in any home, they determine the mood of the house. Having said this, a lesser percentage determined that they see the woman’s role as that of a wife and mother, and want a woman like their mother.
The traditional ideas of what a woman’s role in Nigeria is, is changing. More women are relying on the familial and paid support they have and are spending more time at work. While many more are delaying having children till they are older, and some think wiser. In extreme cases they are just choosing not to have children or get married or alternately have children and not get married. Whichever role they choose to take, most women will juggle the demands of home and work while many men will decide to go to their club to relax after a hard days work.
Looking back on my life, I have always been very aware of how I see my life progressing. I have had the dreams of wedding, marriage and baby carriage, but as I grow older I have become aware of the strictures this would place on me. As a woman I am aware of the sacrifices I must make for others to be comfortable and happy, but being selfish I believe that until I make myself comfortable others should not expect me to make them comfortable. At the end of the day, what I see the traditional roles of women in Nigeria to be is whatever they want; the only way to keep tradition alive is to perpetuate it. Maybe the answer is in what a male friend of mine told me during a passionate discussion on the issue, ‘if you want equality at home, bring in the same amount of money, and I will pick up half the slack at home’. Unfortunately this has caused the break up of many marriages; after all, the green eyed monster in a man is likely to feel threatened by what he sees as competition in his home.
The impetus for this particular move by my mother was when I commented that I am struck by how Nigerian women view themselves and their role both at home and at work. Don’t get me wrong I am not an advocate for burning bras, (I spend a lot of money buying my bras), but I am very much for equality in and out of the home, and the necessity of seeing work as more than a forum for finding a husband. But it strikes me as unfair that women who work as many hours as men for less pay, ends up also going home to keep house and children?
This is my opinion and prejudice, but if you ask my mother, who takes gains great joy and satisfaction from being a housewife, she would tell you that it’s a woman’s role to look after her husband and home. More importantly, my mother believes that the juggling of home and work should be a source of joy and evidence of the woman’s ability to multitask. On the other hand, if you ask a female Oyinbo returnee they might say ‘fight the power of male misogyny, unchain yourself from the kitchen sink, live for the present and not the past’. The average young Nigerian woman of today on the other hand, might be more inclined to dissuade such talk as it would limit the chances of getting a husband.
What it seems that always presents a problem in Nigeria is that even though men would say that they respect the woman’s role both at home and at work, there is the slight whiff of misogyny in the way men view women. Ultimately most men would rather see women as mothers and whore instead of a whole being. But is this really the case? Do man have such narrow views of women?
To find out this and better understanding of the role of Nigerian women, I decided to ask the only demographic which always seems to be left out of the discussion regarding traditional roles of women, Men.
When discussing women and tradition, men take the brunt of the blame, ‘they subjugated us’, ‘they are keeping us down’, ‘they have made life unbearable because of their demands’, so much blame so little clarification. In a recent discussion with the male of the species, I discovered a few very interesting things, men do not want powerless women in their lives. They see it as ‘too much like hard work’ having to prop up a woman with insecurities and dependence issues. What most of the men I have spoken with say about traditional roles of women is that it is bunkum, that women have always had power.
Women they say are the only ones who know what to do to either annoy or lift their men and family, they are the support mechanism in any home, they determine the mood of the house. Having said this, a lesser percentage determined that they see the woman’s role as that of a wife and mother, and want a woman like their mother.
The traditional ideas of what a woman’s role in Nigeria is, is changing. More women are relying on the familial and paid support they have and are spending more time at work. While many more are delaying having children till they are older, and some think wiser. In extreme cases they are just choosing not to have children or get married or alternately have children and not get married. Whichever role they choose to take, most women will juggle the demands of home and work while many men will decide to go to their club to relax after a hard days work.
Looking back on my life, I have always been very aware of how I see my life progressing. I have had the dreams of wedding, marriage and baby carriage, but as I grow older I have become aware of the strictures this would place on me. As a woman I am aware of the sacrifices I must make for others to be comfortable and happy, but being selfish I believe that until I make myself comfortable others should not expect me to make them comfortable. At the end of the day, what I see the traditional roles of women in Nigeria to be is whatever they want; the only way to keep tradition alive is to perpetuate it. Maybe the answer is in what a male friend of mine told me during a passionate discussion on the issue, ‘if you want equality at home, bring in the same amount of money, and I will pick up half the slack at home’. Unfortunately this has caused the break up of many marriages; after all, the green eyed monster in a man is likely to feel threatened by what he sees as competition in his home.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Son or Husband
Which hurts the most, losing your son or you husband, which tells about who you love the most. They both died on the same day in the same room minutes apart. I remember looking through the glass asking myself who would I live without him, the thought of every second without him filled me with a dread that knocked me off my feet, a dread that I had never experienced.
They died, not by any fault of their own, it was just a freakish occurrence of sand in their eyes, the storm, the lashing pain against the legs, the wrong foot in the gutter, that is how their lives ended.
I remember the smiles, the hugs and the smells, the special meals and the family games. I cannot forget the day we spent in the green grass, playing monsters and hero’s, then eating until our distended stomachs looked like hillocks ready for ants to nest.
I am forced to continue living my life and I am not sure how I can without them. I miss him, more than him, but am I right to, should I not miss each equally, am I bad in wanting him back more than him. How do I justify my role, how do I beg for forgiveness for not loving one as much as the other, which should hurt more, losing my son or my husband.
They died, not by any fault of their own, it was just a freakish occurrence of sand in their eyes, the storm, the lashing pain against the legs, the wrong foot in the gutter, that is how their lives ended.
I remember the smiles, the hugs and the smells, the special meals and the family games. I cannot forget the day we spent in the green grass, playing monsters and hero’s, then eating until our distended stomachs looked like hillocks ready for ants to nest.
I am forced to continue living my life and I am not sure how I can without them. I miss him, more than him, but am I right to, should I not miss each equally, am I bad in wanting him back more than him. How do I justify my role, how do I beg for forgiveness for not loving one as much as the other, which should hurt more, losing my son or my husband.
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