Three, South American looking guys...

Three, South American looking guys, all dressed in black trousers and smart shirts, wearing raincoats, each holding an identical tub of Pringles barbeque flavour crisp, munching like crazy at the bus stop. The bus came; they dusted the crumbs of their clothes, replaced the lids and got on.

Sometimes we just can’t make it on our own….

Is bad luck coincidence or can it be traced back to one of those ‘ you must forward to at least five people emails’, or a lost dream catcher bracelet, walking over drains and so on? Microcosim – Macrocosim, there’s a part in Shakesphere’s Macbeth after he kills Duncan the King, Act II Scene 4 where Ross and the old man converse about the turning of nature

Old Man
‘Tis unnatural,
Even like the deed that’s done.
On Tuesday last,
A falcon, towering in her pride of place,
Was by a mousing owl hawked and killed

Ross
And Duncan’s horses – a thing most strange and certain
Beautious and swift, the minions of their race,
Turned wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out,
Contending ‘gainst obedience, as the would make war with mankind

Old Man
‘Tis said they did eat each other.

So the last few days have been strange – I walked into a fight between three teenage boys at a bus terminal 2 against 1. The boy’s legs couldn’t hold him standing afterwards. Girl gets a serious bout of food poisoning and strangest of all I get an SOS from an old friend who’s been sectioned – that last… I don’t know – it’s just tough. I called, we talked, I felt useless - I said I’d call back – I did – and the phone went unanswered, which to be honest was a relief. How can I say that….

i guess today we all seem to forget that, sometimes we just can’t make it on our own.

Article for Janded

I started writting this article a while back - previous blog 'Why can’t Hausa marry Yoruba, Ibo marry Yoruba, Yoruba marry Oyinbo...and L marry a blond Japanese guy named Han?

So it follows....

‘Will you marry me? Would you marry me regardless – just for me, just for love – just for us?’ I’ll openly admit that the topic of marriage is a painful subject for me, but that’s my history, and a very clouded one at that. However, more and more recently I’m finding myself plagued by the guilt of desertion. I’ll freely admit that I’m in the midst of my first ‘real’ relationship with a fellow country-woman. But as my sister duly notes, ‘This guy you never like to do anything straight sha…’ The girl is not Yoruba.

‘Sha’ is like a colloquial term, for ‘you unknowing, non-natives’; like ‘jo’, ‘I beg’, ‘how far’, etc – they’re expressions used to give emphasis to points. In our own version of the famous British grammar best seller, ‘Eats, Shoots and Leaves’, (namely ‘Pigeon Pigeon: D’ Correct Broken’) you’ll probably find it in the glossary of terms. You’re straying… but I’m on a pothole ridden yellow thinly tarmac road, so I shall continue.

Don’t get me wrong; I’ve fallen lustfully head over heels with a bite size proportion of the population. But apart from a 2 week telephone relationship at age 16/17, a sweet, complicated and seemingly doomed holiday romance (a little more recently – though still mentally pre-pubescent, on my part), not to mention a heavy dose of the unrequited variety, I’d still say that I was a relative novice in dealing with women from my own ‘cape of good hope.’
But if I could make a list of the differences between Yoruba, Hausa or Ibo women (note, I rarely make lists. Oh I make cd lists, and in my youth I was known to make lists of all the women I intended on making out with before my 16th birthday – Sam Fox was right on top and that chick who did that song ‘Boys, Boys, Boys….oooh Sabrina, you made the boy’s dorm a fun place on many a rainy night. And despite what people say, Sam you have more than two things going for you). The list would probably have only one line...... –

I promised a friend i'll give it to her to put on her webzine so check out janded a sort of new age magazine for young nigerians living abroad. i think the site is in the middle of a face lift, but keep an eye on it. It's gonna be pretty cool. Plus i've got to thank a really good friend of mine, N - she's my Eats, Shoots and Leaves mentor.

Cold porridge, a bloody nose and a HOT young mammy;

Everybody likes to rub a little salt in the wounds.
Out of the Champions League – gutted. But I guess there’s consolation in winning the Premiership title and the Carling Cup. In Steve’s words, we were a team that were lucky to get to the semi-finals. Whatever!

So the night ended – the morning begins, I get a bloody nose in the shower, in a rush eat my porridge cold and almost walk into a lamppost glaring at a HOT mammy dropping of her little sprog at a local prep school near me. I walk past the school every morning, money buys you a lot of things if it fails to bring you love. Then you should consol yourself with a range rover, a good education and nice pretty yellow and blue uniforms for your kids, a recent trip to Barbados, a spray on all over body tan, work at 11.00am and a football team to have fun with. (same story fellas – kinda getting boring, don’t you think?)