THIS IS A LIE

My mum always said “the truth would set me free, especially when she knew I was the culprit. Past experience has made me realize that the truth only got my mum’s belt excited and the neighborhood drowning in the loud orchestrated sound of me wailing in agony. So NO! I don’t really believe the truth sets one free.

 

Ask yourself, did the truth set you free when made known? Or make the listening party pleased or distraught? Before speaking the truth I believe some important questions, bases, and possible outcome need to be considered. You need to always assess situations before acknowledging the truth. The person you’re telling the truth, can he deal/handle it? What happens when the truth leads to further despair, when a little lie could go a long way in making things work out fine? Whoever said let sleeping dogs lie I’m definitely sure said so after regretting telling the truth. Don’t get me wrong lying isn’t good, but wouldn’t you prefer not knowing the truth, than hate the person who tells you the truth? Would you prefer your boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, wife tell you he/she cheated on you? Or would you for the sake of the relationship not know at all?

My one perfect example is Jesus Christ, dude told the truth all His life, even when His life depended on it and what did He get for it? Public humiliation, mockery from kids, men and women, the screaming crowd spitting cursing and stoning (can imagine His reaction when they die and get to the Gate: payback’s a B***H) and finally one of the worst possible ways to be killed, He was nailed and hung from a cross to bleed to death, all these because of the truth. Don’t tell me, I know; the end result supersedes everything but to go through the torment all because of the truth? HELL FREAKING NO! Good thing His reward for that was worth the price He paid.

It doesn’t always have a direct effect though. What happens when spouses cheat and they own up, all because of some bright light they saw? They open their big mouth and tell the truth; end result they split, leaving the kids to suffer all because daddy or mummy couldn’t shut up until they turned 18. If that ever was me, I’ll burn whoever is at faults throat with hot boiling tar. Maybe the parents found peace in the separation setting them free, but the destruction of the truth is borne by the poor kids left in bondage and despair. It’s just like having parents with AS blood group giving birth to a Sickle cell kid. Poor kid is left to leave out his life suffering. Don’t be surprised if the girl sleeps around just because she’s searching for her father or the guy just never knows how to treat a woman. Tell the truth my a**.

Do you know how many lives you’ll be saving by shutting up? Do yourself a favor when you want to go all holy and righteous; when you want to open your trap and spill the beans, when you want to put up your skeletons out for exhibition, or when your bloody conscience tells you to be the bigger person: take a freaking minute and ask yourself “how and who would my telling the truth affect?”. I mean, you think by telling the person you’d be redeemed of the wrong doing? A brother going to tell his other brother he slept with his wife, an employee confessing to misuse of company funds, a kid owning up to breaking a neighbors’ windscreen, owning up to violation of traffic laws; do you really think they’d be redeemed for their wrong doing and be given a medal for honesty and for being truthful?

I know men are born liars, but I feel it’s based on my theory of “why get into so much drama and trouble when one harmless lie can solve the whole problem. They, and by “they” I mean we men, we might not always analyze the end result of the lie, but we still believe the lie would sell more than the truth. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t support all lies men tell especially when it has to do with innocent emotions but if you’re going to lie, you best be good at it. Like everything in life, there’s a rule governing everything, same goes for lies. Don’t go ahead lying if you’re not good at it, or if you haven’t covered all the bases. Here’s a little guide line if you’re going to lie:

Rule 1: Don’t start what you can’t finish. Be prepared to see the lie to the end, don’t tell a lie and after a while you come out clean and say the truth. Why start in the first place? Sissy!

Rule 2: Before you lie, make sure it’s worth the trouble of lying. A lot of brain power goes into lying, which means you’d be wasting valuable time on a lie if it’s worthless.

Rule 3: Remember, all lies need a backup and most times a follow up lie, meaning you have to cover all possible options of questions that may be asked. A true artist spells the lie out in one sentence avoiding questions. Keep it plain and simple.

Rule 4: Every lie needs to be verifiable, so if you going to involve someone in lie make sure the person knows. If you’re going to use a place or thing, make sure you have accurate details of the place or thing and time. Better still, always and I mean always incorporate a bit of the truth into a lie. A lie sells best when you have a bit of reality attached to it. This leads to the final rule.

Rule 5: Once you decide to lie you have an obligation never to forget that lie, because you need to sell it and convince the other party, even after the dust might have settled. Lies always have a way of resurfacing, and anything different from what was said sends everything crumbling. That’s why a bit of the truth added to a lie would serve as a reminder so you never forget.

I’d say this again, I don’t support lies, but I feel it could go a long way in making some of our problems less worrisome and saves a lot of grief. What truth you don’t know wouldn’t kill you. So feel free to lie so long as you know you’re good at it and the lie is beyond reasonable doubt. If and when you’re caught lying please don’t quote me, because I’d lie my a** off denying any knowledge of ever writing this.

Ibadan's White and Blue

Ibadan, oldest city down this side of Nigeria, the one state believed to still spend coins, having the largest land spread of red zinc roofs, a social life that shuts down by 8pm, a sanitation that has finally improved and finally the all famous “it was white and blue” buses. Now that my friends is the 8th wonder of the world, the holy grail of road transport in Nigeria. If you were looking for Charon the ferry man for Hades, an Ibadan bus would do just fine i.e. once you’re in it; it’s safe to say you have a death wish, better yet, signing your own death sentence. I choose to believe praying in buses before travelling originated from commuters in Ibadan buses, one look at the outside and then the inside, fills your mouth with bile, and the only resolve you have is to turn spiritual because that’s your saving grace, your judge, advocate and jury. I for one have reasons to spit this evil dangerous motorized scrap metal on wheels, two incidents, with the latter still fresh on my memory have transpired, the first happened eight years ago.

 I stepped into a bus heading for work, sat at the back; would you believe the driver used cow rope to tie the rear end side of the bus to the boot; meaning if he untied the rope the whole back would come off, I looked down and saw a big hole in the floor, I was literally staring at the axial of the bus with oil spilling out. The man beside me reading my mind shook his head and made a comment to the driver in Yoruba in a tone that sounded like he was mocking the driver. Next thing I heard was a loud bang, the bus lost control, I looked down to see the axial had broken, so also did the rear wheels which sent the bus door flying off like some action movie. Immediately this happened everyone started screaming “blood of Jesus” and saying last prayers (like the first one they said before entering was not enough).

 Now under these circumstances, you would think I’d join in and say a few words too, but noooo, I was looking around and sipping in people’s reactions. One really caught my eye, after the bus door fell off, the lady sitting by the door probably had an epiphany; “why stay and wait for the bus to collide with another bus when the door is wide open jumping would be a really good idea” and so she jumped out of a moving bus going at about 80km/hr downhill I couldn’t help but turn around to watch this woman rolling down the hot coal tar road. Luckily for us and her I might add no vehicle was ahead of us nor behind so she was not run over. In the end only Lucy Liu who jumped out of a moving bus got hurt. It’s only in Ibadan buses that you see drivers using a 5 litre gallon as fuel tank, where the exhaust shares a spot with you in the back seat. Long before Renault, Honda, or even Ford thought about push to start cars, they already had invented the door bell push to start means of starting cars. The inside is like staring at a skinned human beings’ skeletal structure, all you see is decaying rusty scrap metal that has some funny blended smell of dried blood, goat, tomatoes and damp clothes. Some even have artificial sunscreen roof; you’d hate yourself if it were to rain and you where caught inside, you’d rather the rain drenched you than the annoying continuous dripping water that keeps tapping your head and probably staining your dress from the washed up rust. A friend of mind once joked that the holes you find in the floor of the buses were wide enough for drivers to stick their legs through and use as an emergency brake, I like to believe it’s possible.

It’s only in Ibadan buses seat belts are deem hazardous, they don’t recoil back into their compartments. So if an accident should happen you stand a chance of being strangled by the rope, well that is if the exhaust doesn’t kill you first. A guy was involved in an accident and was rushed to the hospital. On getting to a hospital he died, after an autopsy cause of death was not from accident complications but from carbon poisoning, was later confirmed that the buses that rushed him to the hospital had its exhaust pipe at the back seat.

 I still don’t think I’ve ever seen bus with a complete dash board, or with an odometer or a complete set of windows, it’s usually a mixture of glass, plastic and nylon. Most windows are either permanently up or down because they all don’t have a winder. Some bus door locks come with bolts to secure them or a bent metal rod, and in most cases its only the driver or conductor that can shut and open the doors unless you have years of experience with the pull lift and slam mechanism. The window wipers look like a starved Somalian, no wiper just the metal. During most heavy rains the driver parks and waits for the rain to cool off, or attaches a rag to the wiper handle to serve as a wiper. The seats are natural recliners because they are not fastened to the floor, take my advice do not wear a bright colour outfit into an Ibadan bus, Hypo would not do the trick for you trust me.

  My second experience in an Ibadan bus happened October 8th 2012, I was travelling from Ibadan to Lagos, and the bus was speeding as if the driver’s girlfriend told him her parents just left the house for a bit so he should hurry over. 30 minutes into the journey the bus drops down like it had been amputated. The driver lost control and bus went somersaulting for about 5 to 6 times. I tell you this; it was really really extremely scary. Action movies accident scenes with the passenger screaming are the only way I can describe it. People turned spiritual, so did I. I didn’t have any Lucy Liu to look out for because I had my life flashing in front of my eyes, and not the life I had lived but the life I’d be missing if I ended 6 feet under. As quick as it started, it ended. The bus skid to a halt at the side of the road upside down and with all the adrenaline pumping in my veins I jumped out from the side, not wanting the car to go kaboom. I started running, then suddenly remembering my blackberry and laptop I ran back (yeah yeah, I did it). In the end, bus did not explode. How the crowd gathered and from where I don’t know. I came out with only a finger wound; five people were seriously hurt, including some chick I was eyeing. What happened to the driver you might ask? Disappeared, without a trace; no one saw the dude. Now to what caused the accident, the freak used a rope to tie the propeller (that long rod under the car that holds the front and back wheels). Who does that? ONLY IBADAN'S WHITE AND BLUE