Michael.

 

There are those posts that you’re never ever comfortable writing down. Sometimes, thoughts and feelings can be so strong that penning them on paper actually feels like carrying out serious manual labor. If not for the fact that it actually helps to lighten the load... eventually…. Omo…some events ehn..

That’s how on the 5^th of this month, I lost my best friend Michael.

We’ve all heard that one story of premonition of future events. Mine strangely enough happened on the  4^th of April when I had dozed off on our living room sofa in the evening of that day and had a weird dream/vision/flash of being in a hall, with lots of blurred figures and signing a big book which looked like a condolence register.

I woke up in a sweat and in true Naija fashion rebuked such dreams in a bid to ward off whatever it meant. I must be a pretty terrible warder because very early the next morning, I got a message from Mike’s wife that he had passed on that same morning of the 5^th.

To be very honest, I wasn’t very surprised because he had been sick for quite a while now…Yet…that news HURT like a motherfucker!!

I and Mike go way back to our early Uni days at Unical and to classify what we had as a friendship would be a great disservice.

 Mike was a brother. My brother Mikey was so easygoing, always happy, kind-hearted, and very very friendly to everyone. At some point, I was virtually living with him and my other good friend Saint in their one-room apartment at Etinyin Abasi off Mount Zion Road where we went through all the stress of Uni life, coupled with the joys, adventures, and fun of young men growing up to become men in Calabar. 

We graduated from school and doubled up on our friendship, helping each other professionally and working together at Visafone before he went on to work for MTN and later re-united at Nairabet where we worked together for years, He was Head of HR and I was heading Customer experience, before I resigned and relocated.

 Mike asked me to be his best man during his wedding which I gladly accepted and when Chioma and I were doing our court wedding during the COVID period, Mike reciprocated by being my best man at the court wedding as well.

 I recall him writing out letters of recommendation for me during the whole relocation process even though he was seriously battling for his life during that period.

Man…words truly can't express some hurt. Cancer, you fucking bitch!!

We lived together in the same building at Badore at some point and even when I got my own place and moved out, we were always going home from work together most of the time. It was during one of our trips back home when he mentioned feeling uncomfortable about a persistent pain in his leg and that was the start (at least to my own knowledge) of this nightmare.

He went to hospitals at least thrice to my knowledge and got admitted twice for monitoring. Despite all the tests carried out, the useless hospitals couldn’t detect what was actually wrong and kept referring him up and down. I know he had long been battling high blood pressure but this one was becoming something else. At some point, he had even gone the native way where some traditional doctor performed some weird native acupuncture thing and claimed it was bad blood clotting up in his system. Well, it wasn’t.

Turned out Mike had Cancer. That nasty illness that is so hard to beat. Cancer of the soft tissues was what the doctors at UCH finally diagnosed it as. The problem here was that Cancer treatments are so fucking expensive in Nigeria and funds were very limited in his case. What didn’t we try?!! Nairabet to their credit, helped a lot and continued paying him even when he was out of commission for months, we raised funds individually and I even set up a fund-raising page Here on Donate.ng, a sort of Gofundme back home.

God bless Bose, his wife who obviously bore the brunt of everything and stuck by to care for him throughout. My heart honestly goes out to her. It’s never easy to be in this situation so young and with a toddler son to care for as well. May God give her strength always.

Mike fought this thing so hard for so long but unfortunately lost the battle this month. I feel like some light just left this world with his passing. I had spoken with him just the week before and even though the situation was dire, we still hoped and prayed for some sort of miracle which wasn't to be.

Mako my man, words are so inadequate to truly describe what I felt with your death, but we all take solace that you’re finally resting in heaven. Look after your family from over there bro, Over here, I will try to make sure Bose and Fortune never lack as long as we are still here on earth.

 

Sleep well, my brother. We go still everly jam.

 

Hair of the matter, Barbershop blues..

 “In this world, nothing is certain except death, taxes, Uchenna Ibemere not picking up your call on first ring and Jamaican barbers testing your patience.”

                                                                   – Okechukwu Ibemere, 2023

 

So I was long overdue for a proper haircut. Chioma had complimented me the last time I went to a salon near school and returned with a changed style. Even though it was a bit radical in terms of what I usually do to my hair, I decided to go the whole hog and get a totally new hair outlook.

If you know me well, you’d guess that my penny-pinching, tight-fisted minion is one of the leaders of the tribe of neurons and that reflects in the fact that I haven’t been able to chalk up the will to spend 20 pounds on a haircut. On reflection, it’s a bit shameful on my part because….come on!!

Anyway, ever since coming to the UK, the quest to cut my hair had taken me to a shop in Burnt Oak where one Ghanaian barber who came highly recommended, ended up performing below expectations, corralling my cousin Chijiudo to help with an impromptu haircut one day at his place and finally, in desperation, to a fancy nail salon/hair appointment place in Stratford where a very nice, white guy braved the elements and went out of his comfort zone to take on black man hair. This last guy didn’t do too badly and actually gave me a new look, (the aforementioned one Chioma liked). So I decided to keep it in mind to try new things.

One dreary, cold evening on my way back from the Library, I had spied with my roving eye, a lively looking barber shop close to the Maryland station where I went to take the Elizabeth train line to Paddington ..(Just felt like giving you the unnecessary info).. and I made a mental note to try it out sometime. That time came one Wednesday evening after a long class session, I decided, fuck it…I’m going in.

Even though I didn’t quite know what to expect, the loud Reggae music was the first clue that this black, handsome brother with the clipper was from that lovely Island country. There were some other dudes around, some seated casually and two others swaying to Master Marley’s Natural Mystic track. Bruh…na so the experience take start o..

I’ve never seen a more lively, chatty, all-over-the-place, constantly moving barber.

The guy was already cutting someone’s hair in front of him but was doing about 5 other things at the same time. He would run the clipper over the man’s hair for some seconds, turn to one of his compadres and launch into a whole new gist about God knows what, turn back to the unfortunate guy in the chair, spin him around to find where he stopped, continue with the haircut for a bit, stop completely, go to where his phone was charging and change the track to Marlon Asher’s famous Ganja farmer, shuffle up and down shaking his head as the song takes hold, suddenly remember his client and in the middle of going to pick up the clipper to continue, suddenly remembers he has to make a Whatsapp video call back home.

It’s absolutely chaotic.

I’m sitting there in mild shock as this guy proceeds with the video call and tries to fit in the client in the chair in between bursts of delighted Patois. We can all clearly see and hear as this dude goes on and on with his family back in Kingston as each different individual shows up on the screen and somehow, slowly, we all (including the guy still seated in the chair with the cape around his neck) become invested in this strange re-union call. The climax comes when his Grandma comes on and the dude almost bursts into tears of joy. He calls her a weird pet name, “mannany” or something like that, and kisses the phone screen at the same time… Lord!

I’m trying to make up my mind to leave but somehow, I’ve become a part of this drama and even when he takes a break from the call, he senses my resolve and turns to me and says “Big man…me soon get to ya bro, dun worry, ya turn coming next”. Sigh.

He eventually rounds up the call and finally gets back to his business with so much energy and still giving us the gist of all that happened in his family and town. Apparently, everyone was gathered for a funeral except him. I resign myself to fate and settle in for a long wait and late arrival home.

It all eventually turns out well because I believe I’ve found my permanent barber. Alex (his name which he volunteered freely) was fantastic and made it worth the wait. Came out looking, as they say it.. so fresh and clean. Best of all, he only took 15 pounds from me cos it was all the cash I had in my wallet. (Minion gives a satisfactory high five).

Judging by all the compliments I’ve been receiving on the new haircut, it’s very likely, I’ll become a part of whatever tribe lurks in that barbershop.

Sunny days ahead

 Yaaay…Springtime is here at last and at least the accursed cold weather has finally started to recede. It’s not as if the cold is gone…however, you can feel the difference.

While present even through the Winter, the Sun has now started giving more heat and it seems it's decided to work some overtime hours before heading home for the day. As a matter of fact, as at press time for this article, I am currently sitting shirtless and enjoying a warm sunny afternoon/evening brightness. Hope you didn’t miss that adjective.. let me repeat it again for emphasis..“SHIRTLESS”… Omo just a couple of days abi weeks ago, this would have been utterly unthinkable. But yes, it’s looking good on the weather front and there are surely more sunny days ahead.

This Spring weather subtly shows how beautiful this country would be during summer or similar seasons…. There are these lovely Cherry blossom trees that were the first to start budding and bringing out their leaves and I can't think of a better ambassador for the forthcoming beauty show. They are small, lovely trees that bloom in March or April, with brightly colored flowers that enhance the beauty of the environment by bunching up closely and showing off lovely colors (mostly pink)

Everywhere you go, you can see the change in attitude as well. People feel friendlier (if that’s even possible), and not to put too fine a pun on it, there’s a general spring in the step of many. Clothing items are gradually changing too…the shorts are being unearthed, skimpy clothing is being aired again in preparation and well…we’ll look forward to more stuff as the weather changes…In any case, I’m just glad the frigging cold is almost over.

Make we dey look.

 

 

Thoughts on Nuts

 Woke up thinking about nuts. Palm kernels in particular.

Isn't it weird that we never seem to see them anywhere again? It’s a bit baffling because when we were much younger, they seemed to be everywhere. Especially In the village, they used to be so common that we’d use them as snacks with Gari or just nibble them on their own.

In hindsight now I realize how terrible the effort–reward ratio with those bloody things were. You could spend the whole afternoon cracking these little fuckers with dangerous implements like hammers, stones or other similarly heavy objects, dodging shell splinters, putting your fingers and hand at risk and all for what? Only to end up with impossibly tough, mostly tasteless, fiber-rich kernels which provided very little by way of actual satisfaction.

I guess a lot of our efforts then were made just for the novelty of having something new and “fun” to do but it just struck me how a lot of the effort–reward ratio thing can be applied to so many aspects of our lives.

A lot of people I know just seem to be stuck in this plenty effort, low rewards rat race of a life and it gets me a bit philosophical.. Like, who determines these things? Who can say for sure why there is so much toil and stress in one person’s life with little or no material rewards to show for it while others get so much output from minimal efforts or input in the affairs of life. It is strange.

A recently jarring experience with an ex-classmate from secondary school is very fresh on my mind. I’m not a Facebook person at all but once in a while, I’ve resorted to logging in and casually surfing just for the sake of it and most recently to satisfy my penny-pinching minion by looking for cheap deals in the marketplace on the site. A message pops up as if it had just been waiting for me to come online and I see a message from this guy. He starts off reflecting on the past and making all the right noises about how long it has been and reminiscing on all things secondary school before he comes to the meat of the matter and starts begging for financial assistance as he claims to have just lost his job. Now, I’m the last person on earth to get scammed by anyone and my antenna goes on alert immediately. But this is obviously the real deal and the earlier conversation confirms that he is the real person doing the asking…. I make up my mind and send him some money to help out. Fast forward 2 months later and this same guy comes back with the same format but this time leaning heavily on the fact that his children have not eaten for days and I should please “heed the cry of the children”…

Sigh. Unless you're my wife, i don't like being guilt-tripped and additionally, I’m not in a position to help out, so after ignoring the request for a day or two, I let him know.

Till today, I’m not sure if this was a real experience or he was just scheming his way through conning acquaintances for money but anyway, that’s a story for another day

It just seems so strange sometimes that despite all the effort most people put in, Reward does not equal input and it’s just at the whims and vagaries of this bitch called life. I just close my thoughts and say a native prayer for family and friends, for us to achieve whatever aspect of life we all desire and regard as being successful.

May our palm nuts be cracked for us by the benevolent Gods and may the kernels be sweet and rich.

A big “amen” to that.

Nostalgia

Sometimes, It just hits you out of nowhere.

It could be on a Friday night when you’re trudging back home from work in the bitter cold and you’re suddenly overwhelmed with memories of being gathered around the tables at Bimz garden killing some cold bottles of beer after their awesome vegetable soup and fufu.

You could be on the Jubilee line train heading back to Wembley station from Stratford when you just get this crazy urge to enter a car and drive down to Chevron drive or Powerline or Gbagada to bask in the warmth of family

Sometimes, you could be grocery shopping at the beautiful ASDA superstore and suddenly realize you would give anything to see the joy and delight on the faces of your nephews and nieces when you take them as a treat to the humble Blenco or shoprite supermarket nearby.

It could hit you out of the blue, when an elderly white woman in your new apartment rushes out of her apartment to confront you on your presence in the building. You laugh it off and lightheartedly explain to her that you’re the new occupant of the number 7 flat upstairs. It’s amusing because you suddenly have flashbacks of the security guards at Silverpoint Estate springing to attention and saluting you as you drive past the gates.

Oh yes, you might just be tapping in with your Oyster card on the 83 bus to Golders green and feel the tug on your heart when you recall your frequent Ajah to Igbo-efon Korope route.

And as crazy as it seems, you catch yourself doing a double take at an elderly woman in the mall who looks eerily like your mum. You have to remind yourself of all the posters warning against staring and shake your head out of the reverie as you move on.

Honestly, it takes a lot to do this relocation thing.

Nobody adequately prepares you for the feeling of not being able to freely go about doing things you love and experiencing things you’ve taken for granted all your life. It’s a cautious, guarded lifestyle which takes much to get used to.

Sigh.

It’s not all gloom and doom though. On the flip side, it has taught me to embrace diversity, enjoy lots of crazy new cultures, look for beauty in differences, enjoy relative environmental and economic sanity and frankly speaking, I’m just grateful for all the lessons learned.

 

 

 

New Digs

 For some time now, the wife and I have been looking for a new place to live.

With fondness, I recall house hunting in Lagos as the absolute ghetto. The stress of having to contact and “settle” agents, the horribly overpriced houses, the endless viewing trips, buying recharge cards for agents, enduring tribal bullshit in some instances and all the overall stress that comes from living in Lagos.

Courtesy of aunty Ngozi’s connects, we had been fortunate to get a small studio apartment almost immediately we arrived in London. Our landlord, very nice guy, was one of the very wealthy, early set of Nigerians who had established themselves here and had a string of houses all over London which I’m guessing is a major source of income for him. So, like the true Nigerian landlord he is, bros decided that he could make more money in this inflated London housing market by reconverting the studio apartment into a one bedroom and jacking up the rent by almost 600 pounds.

Of course, this clearly didn’t fall within our financial plans and the man, to give him credit, actually advised against us staying there, seeing as the property is situated in very prime location and he’s currently undervaluing it… He was also magnanimous enough to offer us enough time to look for a new place and also provide whatever references we might need.

London house hunting?? Somewhat similar process BUT waay more efficient and different.

The stress involved in house hunting over here is what I call “Over-efficiency” stress.

Omo. Them go scrutinize your life tire

Na so we begin look for house.

The thing with organized societies is that, everything has strict processes and procedures which have to be adhered to and don’t even bother wasting your time if you fall short.

London has surplus rental agencies both on and offline and there was no shortage of available apartments. Asides the exorbitant rental prices in this city, the second major problem was the fact that landlords here are extraordinarily picky about who they let into their houses. You start seeing things like: Must provide 6 month financial reference, must obtain former landlord consent, no kids, no pets, no smokers, no guests, bla bla and bla.

You can’t help but marvel at the efficiency with which things are done here. The agency we used carried out online reference checks on both of us from workplaces and former landlord which I’m happy to say we passed successfully.

Thank God (AGAIN) for Chioma’s job which is doing the heavy lifting rent wise and Mama Calabar, we were able to afford and provide financial reference for a very nice one-bedroom apartment in Wembley for a small increase in what we already pay.

It’s a lovely apartment. Situated on the second floor of an apartment block, it’s the standard mind-your-business London type of residence. The environment is neat and very well planned, green areas, parking space, good utilities and despite the residential nature of the immediate environment, it has close proximity to commercial hubs in Wembley. There’s a Tesco express supermarket (which is unsuccessfully trying to usurp ASDA for Chioma and i), pizza parlors, grocery stores, a church, nearby bus stations and best of all a train station (North Wembley) all within walking distance.

So all in all, a very good place to continue life in London. (As evidenced by the surprised exclamations and general disbelief from fam and friends that we’ve managed to crack this in so short a time..lol)

The time of the Corn and all things shambolic

 Hi guys..

 

Yeah…so, since my last rant about the situation of things back home, 2023 Presidential elections have come and gone.

Like the late hip-hop poet and sage, Amaru once said, “Some things will never change”.

My dear people of God, I am absolutely disheartened to let you know that every terrible thing that we thought would happen, did indeed happen and even added its own brand of jara.

The rigging and manipulation was absolutely insane. It wasn’t just enough that everyone on all sides of the divide agreed that there was rigging involved, the question now became who perpetuated more of it. Even though it was blatantly obvious that APC were the overwhelming culprit, they have come out to claim that all parties also participated. Absolute balderdash.

In all this, I personally blame INEC. I mean, after all the money spent and invested in technological advancements which the fuckers promised us would eliminate any scenario of cheating, to see the deliberate incompetence and manipulation of the same thing happening real time was just a crushing blow to everyone. BVAS was not present in so many polling stations…Polling unit officials couldn’t upload results because “Server was down” …IRev portal suddenly developed cold and couldn’t display even the few uploaded results….INEC officials were counting paper collations and writing down and cancelling irreconcilable figures as election results on OFFICIAL result sheets….

Ladies and Gentlemen, beloved people of God, that’s how they’ve gone ahead to announce the same Bola Tinubu as our next president.

This is a guy who is so clearly unfit to hold that position being aided to steal the collective destiny of this country and everyone is watching in real time as it is happening?? Of course, the thief has quickly extended his trembling hand of fellowship to other contestants to accept fraudulent results because he clearly knows the entire thing was an absolute travesty of everything fair and transparent. The major parties have rightfully gone to court to challenge the whole sham and that is the current state of things at press time.

HOW DO WE KEEP GETTING THINGS WRONG?? Ehn…HOWWW??????

Why do I feel like we are in this ever-deepening spiral of chaos and Nigerians will soon pay a crazy price as never seen before..

It’s been very surprising and I’m amazed at how invested i’ve become in all things Nigeria ever since I’ve left. Of course, you don’t need to be a psychologist to understand why but at the same time, the emotional, physical and mental turmoil which I’ve gone through since the 25^th of February has been enormous and very draining.

It’s the hope that kills you quickest, they say. Make we dey look dey go.