‘Every day is not Christmas’

How many times have you said those words to another person or heard them directed at you?

Simply put, these words mean ‘do not have the same expectations you normally would have if it was Christmas day’ In my experience, they usually precede or follow some sort of disappointing episode.

But why can’t everyday be Christmas?

Why can’t we approach and live every day like it was Christmas? At Christmas, most of us become more human, anyway. We love, share, give and give some more. At Christmas, we smile more, laugh more and sing more. Not because we have no worries or troubles, but we choose to be merry in spite of our situations.

A lot of wonderful things happen during Christmas, things that don’t happen to us every day.

We care for people that we normally do not care about.

We visit orphanages and make a lot of donations.

We buy our housemaids new clothes, even if they are second hand.

We visit our aged parents and give them more than the usual monthly stipends.

We actually get to know our neighbours and exchange more pleasantries other than, ‘please come and move your car’.  We spend more time with our children, family and friends.

We are more forgiving and tolerant.

On a lighter note, at Christmas, it seems as though the roads are freer, the drivers friendlier and the traffic a little more tolerable also. Or is it me?

Even NEPA is slightly better on Christmas day.

So why can’t every day be Christmas?

Why can’t we make every day Christmas?

Whoever legislated kindness, love, sharing, giving, to one particular day in a whole year?

Whoever said we shouldn’t be nice and tolerant every day?

Whoever said we couldn’t share humanity today or any other day for that matter?

Whoever said today is not Christmas?

MERRY CHRISTMAS Y’ALL

Loving and caring, that’s my wife.

Vibrant and productive, she’s a wellspring of life

A fertile ground for my seeds

The bearer of beautiful kids.

A lighthouse is what you are.

An anchor in troubled times

All day long I wait for your sweet embrace

On your bosom I lay and peace I find in your love rays.

You are strength, warmth, wisdom and beauty all in one

You are that rare melody that is a beautiful song.

And yes, you are my woman.  

And I will sing that song all night long.

Back in the days, greatness used to mean something.

Back in the days, greatness was not used so loosely.

No one was called great unless they did something that the World could not ignore.

No one was called great until they left something the World could explore.  

To be great meant you had influence.

You were great because you had presence.

Alexander the Great; Jesus Christ of Nazareth; The Prophet Mohammed; These are men whose influence the World felt long after they were gone. Their lives helped shape the World as we have come to know it.

History tells of many other great people whose influence and acts amongst other men could not be ignored. They may not have been perfect men and women but they stood to be counted.

Martin Luther King Jnr, El Hajj Malik El Shabbazz, Kwame Nkrumah,  Gani Fawehinmi but to mention a few etc

And we really do not have to look into the past to recognise greatness. We are fortunate to still have living amongst us today some great men and women whose lives generations unborn will celebrate.

These great people, whether living or dead, earned the right to be called great by the kind of lives they lived.

Some laid down their lives so that many might live; others laid down many lives so their ideologies and beliefs could live.

This is why I cannot understand why this generation has so belittled such a …great word

We seem accursed with a need to outdo one another in adjectives.

We no longer speak English; we converse in superlatives.

Now I do not know what words like ‘amazing’, ‘fantastic’ really mean anymore. 

Words like awesome which, when I heard for the first time, was used to describe how great GOD is, is now used to describe how yummy a hotdog feels

The other day, a friend of mine said she met this ‘great’ guy and she couldn’t stop talking about how he had a great smile, spoke in a great way, walked like a King, and how he did so many ‘mundane’ things, well, great . A few days after, this ‘great’ guy had become a ‘great jerk’. She realised that everything she called ‘great’ about him was all part of a routine aimed at tapping her ‘great ass’.

To hear the word great attached to words such as ass, breasts and sometimes even to a beautiful word such as smile, is an abuse of the word.

Greatness is what everyone should aspire to even if not everyone will achieve. Sometimes, greatness even lies in trying, I have come to see.

Greatness, I have also come to realize, is often about sacrifice; placing others needs before yours and making their lives better.

Mother Theresa and Mama Ekundayo, these women did not lead any troupe to battle, but they battled and won the fight for human dignity and with that touched generations yet unborn.

So excuse me if I do not bellow with excitement when you point out those ‘great legs’ or if I am mellow when you talk about ‘what a great party’ you had’, I am only mourning the death of greatness and several other words that used to mean something

I will not break

I will not suffocate

I will make lemonade!

I will meditate

I will create

I will participate

I will be great!

So keep throwing those lemons

And I will keep making lemonade

God came to visit.

No, he didn’t come in a flash of blinding white light.

I woke up in the middle of the night and knew immediately He had come to hang out.

I said, it’s been a while. He said, I never left you.

And so began what would turn out to be long night.

He said, let’s take a walk. Not knowing how that was going to be possible as I was still lying on my bed.

Obeyed I did, nonetheless.

Our walk started from the Garden of the Beginning and took us through the Mountains of the Prophets and the Kings until we got to a place called Revelation. 

As we began to reminisce about the beginning or when I thought everything started, he began to tell me how much he missed those times. I said I missed them too.

I wanted to start apologizing for the way I have been the past couple of years but He said He’s already forgiven me.

As we continued on our walk, the consciousness of His presence and greatness enveloped me and I asked,

Who am I that you are mindful of me? Who am I that you visit me?

He said, I love you my son. I have loved you with an everlasting love.

We walked on, hand in hand, God’s fingers intertwined with mine like a closed zipper.

 I felt whole again.

Then he began to remind of those words he spoke to me back in the days.

He reminded me of his promises. He said, ‘if it were not so, I would have told you’.

As I heard that, I felt something leap inside of me. The same way I used to feel back in the days whenever His word was being preached. I was coming alive; the entrance of His every word impacted life and lit up my being.

As we neared the place of the Revelation, I asked that he tells me my favorite story in his WORD. He started to smile as He began to narrate the story of the prodigal son.

When he came to my favorite portion of the story, the part when the father saw his son from afar off and started to run towards him, tears had welled up in my eyes and by the time He was through with the story, tear drops laid clinging kisses on my cheeks and all I felt was His arms around me and his voice telling me ‘He never stopped loving me’.

I woke up this morning with a strong sense of His presence and I am starting the day empowered by His grace.

I am so glad he visited.

Is it because they know they can do so without being caught? Or is it because they think such thoughts can only be expressed in a toilet?

Some might say it is because people get ‘creative’ when they are in the toilet but how come you only find this creativity expressed in public toilets? Are people not creative when they are in their homes or other people’s homes?

To be honest though, some of these toilet artists, poets and advertisers have cracked me up a few times.

Came across one hilarious line recently:

Some come here to sit and wonder; I came here to shit like thunder

Who writes such thoughts? Some thoughts, even when they cross one’s mind should never be ‘documented’.

Some job seekers think the toilet is the best place to submit their resume. They go like:

My name is Adamu Opeyemi Okoro, I am a graduate of XYZ University. I have been looking for a job for a loooooooooooooong time. Please help me. Call me on 08000000000.

This approach might have worked for someone in the past, although I doubt it, but I know companies and head hunters look in other places for prospects.

Some messages advertise the sexual prowess and endowments of their creators.

One guy [I am assuming it was a guy] actually wrote something like this:

If you want sweet loving and fancy a shag from someone who has the right tool and skill, please call this number 0800000000.

Can you imagine?

Some even go to the extent of doing a bit of social crusading; I have seen messages on the perils of HIV, some others warning people about the health hazards of smoking etc. So, not all of the messages are bad just that I wonder why they have to be on toilet doors! I mean, if you have something to say, start a blog, join facebook, tweet and share your thoughts on myspace or something. Why deface a public property? Why share a platform with people who do not value other people’s property?

Read two messages on a toilet door recently. The first, obviously by a ‘social crusader’ read:

DON’T DRINK AND DRIVE

The second, placed beside the first but much bigger, written by someone whose ‘eyes don doti’, read;

DRINK, THEN DRIVE

How does that help the message of our ‘social crusader’?

The message that really irked me and possibly inspired this post is one I saw right after reading a mail from my client in which he politely told me why he couldn’t approve a proposal my company had been pushing for a while.

It read; TOUGH TIMES NEVER LAST BUT TOUGH PEOPLE DO.  Apt yes, but not what I wanted to read at that point in time.

My brother and I used to play a deadly game while growing up. I am sure some of you will remember that game. I still can’t understand why we indulged in it at all because it was quite dangerous but as with most of the things young people did, I guess I may never fully understand. Perhaps it was the risk involved that gave us the kicks. Who knows? Maybe we thought we could always get away with it without getting hurt or caught. And we almost always escaped being caught and the few times we were hurt we accepted our fate but that never prevented us from participating in other dangerous endeavors. I guess you could call it ‘growing up’. Yeah, we were growing up.

‘Growing up’ came with its scars though, most I can share and show freely; a few too embarrassing to divulge except on the pages of a book or in a blog like this one. As I said at the beginning, my brother and I used to play a very deadly game. It involved holding up the sharp end of a pencil or a pen on the other person’s seat and withdrawing it just before the unsuspecting person sat down but ensuring that the person knew what your intentions were so they would appreciate that they had just escaped a great danger. How sick? Which sick mind invented that game anyway?

Well, one Friday evening, while we were having our ‘after school’ lessons at home, my brother decided to play this game while I was returning to my seat from the bathroom but unfortunately he couldn’t remove the pen fast enough. We tried to ‘contain’ the damage as much as we could. We decided not to tell our parents because we knew they were going to beat us silly and because as brothers we thought we needed to protect each other but eventually, my father found out because I began to walk like I had a volley ball between my legs after a few days. My brother got the beating of his life and I was taken to the hospital where I endured one of my most embarrassing medical moments. I was 8 years old and I was scarred for life. I still hate hospitals.

But that is not the story.

A few years after that I noticed my Dad would crack the door of our room open first thing in the morning and ‘spy’ at my groin area before closing the door back and I used to wonder why? Some other times, the man would open the bathroom door while I am about to have my morning bath, pretending he was looking for something and close it after a few moments but not before checking out my groin area. I didn’t understand why my father was acting weird until the day I overheard a conversation between him and my brother:

Dad: Segun, se oko aburo e ma n’le t’o ba ji laaro? [Does your brother have early morning erections?]

Segun:  Haba! Daddy, of course!!!

Dad: Since he got injured down there a few years ago, I have been pretty worried about him. This is why I come to your room in the mornings sometimes to see if he has morning erections.

Segun: He is fine. Stop worrying.

I couldn’t help but smile where I was hiding. It was then I understood what I thought was weird behavior from my Dad. I came out of where I was eaves-dropping and pretended I didn’t hear a thing. They also acted like they weren’t talking about me.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

This post is dedicated to my father. See it as a belated father’s day post.

Thank you Dad for all the love and care you showed us while we were growing up. If I could show my son half the love you showed us and people around you, then, I would have done well as a father.

Crayzee love!

By the way, this post was inspired by my son, your grandson, and his tiny morning erections.

It didn’t make sense to me then so I let it go

‘Why bother myself with that now’ was what I thought

The answer would be ‘yes’ anyway when the time comes

So I went back to playing with my friends;

Then I went to school;

Shortly after that I got married

People said I had become ‘responsible’

What for, they didn’t say.

Woke up this morning and didn’t feel like work

Something just didn’t seem right

Whatever happened to all the dreams I had growing up?

Whatever happened to all those lofty plans?

As I contemplated whether to go to work or not

I remembered that question I was asked all those years ago

It makes sense now and I can’t seem to let it go

I had thought the answer would be a straight Yea

But as I ask myself that question, I wasn’t quite sure

So I ask you the same question:

Would the boy you were yesterday be proud of the man you are today?

Our friendship could be said to have been ‘passed down’ because before we were, our fathers, were. Segun’s father [we call him Chief] and my Dad are best friends. We grew up listening to some of their escapades, many of which we never would have believed if we hadn’t heard it from both of them at different times. One such story was the one they told us about when my brother was born and they had to buy a ram for his christening. Neither of them had a car, so they took Chief’s motorcycle. After buying the ram, they decided it wasn’t necessary for my Dad to take the ram back home in a taxi, so what did they do? Chief rode the bike, my dad sat behind him holding one end of the rope that held the ram which had no choice but to run after them, bleating for dear life. Poor thing!

But this post is not about our fathers.
No.
It is about how Segun and I almost left this world to be with our fore fathers, on two separate occasions.

As I said earlier, Segun and I did everything together, well almost everything. We started dating together although I think I lost my virginity before him but if you asked him, he’d probably say he had sex months before me. That’s one of the few things we never could agree on.

Segun and I used to visit our girlfriends together. When either of us met a new girl and wanted to go see her for the first time, we went together. So when Segun told me he had met a new girl and wanted us to go see her together, the natural response was yes.

The girl, Bose, lived in the Eredua area of Makoko, a predominantly Ilaje community. If you knew the Ilajes then you would know they love living in ‘riverine’ areas; they are good swimmers and they also love to fish- not on a grand scale but they do a fantastic job using simple tools- nets, spears and their bare hands.

When Segun and I got to Bose’s street, as is our practice, especially when we are visiting a girl for the first time whose parents we know are very strict, we did what we always do- we walked up and down the street, on a reconnaissance mission, plotting how best to get the girl out of her house without arousing any suspicions from her parents. Eventually we settled on sending a little boy we saw playing on the street, who said he knew Bose, to go and tell her we were waiting outside her house. A few minutes passed and neither Bose nor the little boy showed up. I remember us joking about the boy going to tell Bose’s father that some people were waiting for her outside. But Segun said the boy wouldn’t do that after collecting his =N=20.00. He said there was honor amongst thieves.

Unfortunately, that was what happened exactly. The next thing we saw was this boy coming out of the house accompanied by four grown men all carrying fishermen spears or gaga as they call it. Then the boy pointed in our direction and said something to the men which we both couldn’t hear but immediately he finished what he was saying, we saw the men running towards our direction. We assumed they weren’t coming in to invite us in so we took to our heels and let our legs do the thinking for us. Both of us escaped unharmed but Segun ensured Bose paid the ‘price’ a few weeks later.

The second experience was even more dramatic. Segun and I had stolen his Mum’s car to attend a party that fateful day. We knew we were already in trouble for taking the car without permission, so, after the party, we decided to put the car to more fruitful use by visiting one girl Segun had been checking out at Otto Police Barracks, in Ebute Metta. We thought we might as well get good value for the punishment we were sure was waiting for us at home.

When we got inside the barracks, I stayed back in the car while Segun went to look for his girl, Scholastica. Thirty minutes on, Segun hadn’t returned to the car with Scholastica. The plan was for him to bring Scholastica, and one of her friends back to the car. I was getting pissed at him because I was sure he had forgotten about his promise of hooking me up with one of Scholastica’s friend. Fifteen minutes later, I decided to go in search of my friend. When I got to Scholastica’s block, I saw a crowd gathered around my friend. Had I known that the man holding Segun was Scholastica’s father, perhaps, I would have gone back quietly into the car. But I thought someone was trying to harass my friend so I ran to the spot to ‘rescue’ him. The following ensued when I got there.

Me: Segun, Whats happening?

Segun: I don’t know

Scholastica’s Father: You don’t know? You will know very soon. By the time I lock you up for a week, you will begin to know.

Then the man looked at me and asked, ‘are you together?’

Me: Yes, he is my friend. What did he do?

SF: ehn, so you came to destroy my daughter’s life together abi? This is how you Yoruba boys do. You go gi’am belle run abi? God don catch two of you.

Before I knew what was happening, he had asked one other man, a police officer, to hold me too.
Minutes later, after begging profusely, the man asked one of his officers to escort us out of the barracks. He warned us that the next time he catches us in the barracks, we wouldn’t be that lucky. He said he would shoot us ‘where we wouldn’t die’ so we would live with the consequences of our philandering for the rest of our lives.

The officer escorted us to Iddo Terminal [about half a kilometer from Otto] before he went back to the barracks. Segun and I stayed at Iddo for about an hour before going back to retrieve his Mom’s car. We had survived another ‘shave’ with death. We lived to die another day.

 ‘Can you come over?’

‘Yeah’,

He ‘flew’ over.

‘Take me’…she said.

He wanted to take her but not in a hurry. That’s not how he had played it out in his mind. He had planned to take his time. He had hoped to take her on a journey of ectasy, step by step.

‘Take me’, she ordered.

He obeyed.

‘Take me faster’

He obeyed again.

‘Take me from the back’.

He did.

Afterwards…

‘Wow! that was not bad at all’, she said.

I hope so. He said.

‘You were in such a hurry’ ; No foreplay, no touching, you just got down straight to business, she said.

What? he exclaimed! 

Who knows where I can get a lion cub? I am sure you are wondering what I need such an animal for? Well, God blessed my family with a beautiful baby girl on the 2nd of Jan 2009 and I thought to myself; is there a better companion to give a gorgeous baby girl than a lion cub? Some other animals came to mind though.

1. Dogs…loyal animals but easily distracted. A chicken wing can always do the trick

2. Cats…not so dependable for my purposes

You see, I need a companion I can trust to keep all those boys away from my daughter and if I buy a cub now, the two of them can grow up together and get to know each other well before the ‘wolves’ start coming to look for her. I am pretty certain not one wolf will make it pass the lion. And if they do, they will have me to contend with. I will be fiercer than 10 lions put together. And let them be forewarned; there is no tricks they can try that I havent used before. Yes, from one ex-’gbomogbomo’ and ‘oshomo’-extraordinaire, my advice to all u bloggers out there is to warn your sons not to come anywhere near my house. And they shouldn’t think they can use facebook or any other cyber contraption that would be invented to get pass the lion and me. I intend to take lessons in cyber-intelligence and I can assure you that I will install the baddest ‘detective’ softwares [re- eagle eye]on my computers and nothing shall escape me. I will have CCTV cameras installed on my street and every young man that comes into the street will be interrogated, yes interrogated, before they are allowed into the street.

And for those who think they can come in through my son, let them be forewarned too. I intend to start giving him lessons in ‘Sister Protection’ from age 3. Even though that course does not exist now, be sure that I will write the course module and get accreditation for it from the ‘Concerned Fathers Association’.

They shouldn’t even think of buying their way into my heart. I cannot and will not be bought. But I may allow them one date with her if they can prove that their parents are in the Forbes Richest People’s List. But even that date will be at a location picked by me. Needless to say that a chaperone will be in attendance and it will be a location I can see from my office window.

 I kid…but I am really grateful to God for this child and I pray he gives me the wisdom to bring her up the right way. I have never felt a stronger sense of responsibility than now.

Please help me welcome my daughter, Oyinni Oluwajomiloju Kofoworola Blackjamesbond into this beautiful world.

I will remember him because he was great, eccentric and weird. He was great because he was a fantastic principal- he brought order to Eko Boys High School and banished the spirit of Equatorial Boys High School[ a rogue and rebellious movement within Eko Boys High School] away from our school- a feat many thought was impossible.

He was eccentric for using all means necessary to ensure teachers attended their classes instead of gossiping in the staff room during class hours. There were times he chased them out of the staff room with his trade mark cane. That used to make us laugh. The teachers didn’t find it funny though and they ensured we didn’t laugh for long either.

I thought him weird because he had some sayings and practices which my young mind couldn’t understand back then. He would say “Mondays and Thursdays are for Jesus, Tuesdays and Fridays for Mohammed but Wednesdays are for Benjamin Anyaeji”. Thus we had Christian Devotion on Mondays and Thursdays and Moslem Devotion on Tuesdays and Fridays. Wednesdays, we had Benjamin Anyaeji. He spoke on several topics but I really can’t remember any of them save for this one day when he brought a pair of sun-glasses to the assembly ground and used them to speak on perspectives. I remember him saying that how we view life generally depends on what we view it through.

If you met him in those days, you were likely to remember three things about him:

The first was his voice. He had a commanding deep baritone voice.

The second was his accent- rich Igbo accent. I still mimic him till today.

The third thing was his trade-mark cane. He never went anywhere within the school compound without a cane. And by cane I do not mean a walking cane or stick. No. I am talking about those 6ft long devils that kiss you at that point on your back you could never reach even if you were the most flexible person on earth.

Benjamin Anyaeji was a disciplinarian. He didn’t suffer fools. If you got on his wrong side, he had just three words for you- “On the floor”- followed immediately by six strokes of his cane. If you made him say more than three words, then you got more strokes. I should have remembered this the day he caught me in some foolishness.

Let me tell you the story.

Do you remember WWF’s Wrestlemania? If you were like me, in those days, you would have been nuts about WWF’s Wrestlemania too. Most kids my age were. We were crazy about Hulk Hogan, Randy Savage, Ultimate Warrior; The Hart Foundation… the list goes on. However, while many left their love for wrestling at home, I took mine with me to school. I was Hulk Hogan. I wanted to be Hulk Hogan. I walked like him, moved like him and even fought like him whenever Hassan [my classmate] and I role-played during break time. And I was always beating Hassan, irrespective of whom he chose to play and that felt good until Hulk Hogan lost to Ultmate Warrior in Wrestlemania VI.

Hassan had ‘challenged’ me before break time that fateful day but I was a bit reluctant to fight him because he wanted to be Ultimate Warrior that day and since Hulk Hogan had just lost to the Ultimate Warrior in real life, and because I knew the class would not expect anything different and I wasn’t ready to lose just yet. When eventually I agreed to fight, I told myself I was going to delay the ‘defeat’ as long as I could.

The fight started during break time with the usual pomp and pageantry of a typical Wrestlemania match. The ‘announcer’ first introduced the challenger and then the champion-me. Naturally, I took my time to come out, acting like the Hulkster, with my hand to my ears when the people were shouting Hulk Hogan’s theme song- the Real American.

Ten minutes into the match, Hassan and I had exhausted all our moves and everybody was now waiting for the final move that would end the match. But I wasn’t ready to give in just yet. Hassan [Ultimate Warrior] made his trademark winning move and the referee started the count out but before he got to three, I started the usual Hulk Hogan come back move. Hassan started to hit me but like the Hulkster used to act whenever he was about to change the mood of a match, I started to act like I couldn’t feel the impact of the punches. At that point the class went crazy. Break time was over but nobody seemed to mind. The noise attracted people from other classes but it also attracted Ben Anyaeji.

Hassan and I didn’t know when Ben Anyaeji got to our class room window but we knew something was wrong when the classroom went deadly quiet all of a sudden.

Ben Anyaeji: On the floor

Me: Sorry Sir

Ben Anyaeji: [With very rich Igbo accent] Am not your father o. Your mates are married in the village and you are here wasting time. On the floor!

That day, I landed on the floor and stayed there longer than I should. For the countless number of strokes I got that day, I would never ever forget Benjamin Anyaeji.

But you lived in an apartment with Sliding doors

Yours were the first sliding doors I ever saw

You would come out of your apartment everyday at 4p.m

You would be quiet at first but once you started talking, you didn’t stop till 10p.m

We had so much fun together

Our time interrupted only so I could eat my ewa.

My Mum said the legume would make me grow taller

In the end, it only made my visits to the loo longer

As I grew older, the bond between us grew stronger

You taught me so much.

You took me places and through you I met different faces

How can I ever forget Sesame Street?

There, learning was a treat

That’s where you took me so I could learn to speak English,

Far beyond the level of Araromi Street.

You also took me places I shouldn’t have gone to

But thinking about it now, I wonder, who would I have turned to

When the girl next door came calling

For this reason and more, some called you evil

But to me, you were simply magical.

You showed me the world in a different light

Through you I met many cool role models and super heroes;

Spotting abilities that made others look like minnows

With the exception of my Daddy of course. My Daddy could take them all.

Or so I thought

My father wanted me to be a doctor, but the more time I spent with you,

The more I knew the only thing I wanted to be was Spiderman.

But that didn’t last for long coz after that I wanted to be a fireman,

Then a policeman, until I realized I was no Superman

Who would have thought I would end up behind a desk

Life happens! I said

These days our time together have become scheduled

But still you never fail to excite me

Last night you told me about a man throwing shoes at another man

It was funny. But it was also sad.

It made me contemplate how quickly relationships can change

How quickly one can fall from grace to grass

But that’s not the only relationship I am contemplating this morning

Ours is one that has changed so much over the years too

Whilst I have moved from my house with painted floors to one with gated doors

You have also moved from behind sliding doors to painted walls

Back in the days, stay a few more hours, I used to pray

These days you are always ready to play.

Now we hardly spend time together,

if it’s not Work,

Then it’s NEPA,

And whenever I put on my generator, so we could spend some quality time together,

Your newest friend in my house starts to SCREAM:

I want to watch Barney!

You seem to enjoy spending more time with him than me,

But I don’t mind.

I ape you not

I know what wonderful adventures lay ahead of him

But I am afraid even that relationship will not be rosy forever

Girls, Parents, School, Work and later, Life, will come between you and him

But you will survive

And so will he.