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

My 2012 Resolution

Its 2:00a.m in the morning, the date is the 1st of January 2012, I look at the bottom right corner of my laptop just to make sure it also registered as well. I just got home not too long ago from church, finished all the screaming and praying, sweating and dancing, hugging and greeting, wishing everyone including those I don’t know a happy new year. Everyone is thankful for the chance to experience yet another year, even though some where scared (okay maybe majorly me) because of the BH bomb treat, we still wore smiling faces to mask a blend of our joy and fear. Sounds of knock out fill the air, security men chasing boys throwing them causing an early morning comic relief.
Its amazing how one second can make a total difference, how one second can unite the whole world even though we’re on different time zones, we all share one common greeting; “happy new year”. (Still waiting for when we’ll embrace the American culture of kissing someone or anyone at the stroke of midnight).
For that brief moment all our worries are gone, life feels like its giving you a second chance, the last one second and the other 31535999 seconds that came before it, just don’t seem to matter, what matters now is the next 31536000seconds, next 525600mins, next 8760hours, 365days, 52weeks, 12months, the next 1year. Our mental clock starts ticking.
We are quick to make resolution, quick to try and kill off old habits, we make promises we hope and pray to keep. Some people see it as an opportunity to change/turn their whole life around.
Really! You think one second has the power to reverse a whole previous millions of seconds! It could try, but trust me, it’s only for the moment, and it’s only till the greeting “happy new year” runs dry. It may take a day, may take two, may even take weeks to try and live up to the resolution, but in time, we all fall. Fall to the demands of life; fall to the demands of our own greed, and selfish nature, fall to the will of our old habits. In truth, “old habits die hard”.
So why bother resolve when in the end you’ll just feel the fool, why make a promise you wont keep? Just like making babies, it takes 5mins to make one, but a life time to train it. It takes simple words to make a resolution but takes discipline, dedication, and hard work to live up to them. The one resolve I can advice to resolute is to resolve not to have a resolution. You want to make a change in life, don’t wait for the final second to start making that change, start when u know you mean it, start when you believe you can live up to it, start not because it has to be symbolic, like a new year change, but do it because you know in your heart of hearts it’s the right thing, and make sure you have help, cause on your own, you’re helpless, but with the help (man or God) you stand a chance.
I’m not saying New Year resolutions are bad, I’m just saying you’ll be back next year making the same resolution you did this year.
Happy New Year people

letter to santa

December 24th 2011,
Dear Santa,
It’s the eve of Christmas, the air is filled up with the joy and excitement, the smell of gun powder from knockouts is fused with the dusty smell of the dry season, families Christmas lights and music over shadowed by the blaring sound of generators, giving bliss and harmony only to surrounding keen ears. Sisters, mothers, aunties all in the kitchen prepping the food for the day to come, kids are excited for a chance to exceed the usual bed time deadline, taking the opportunity to brag about their expected Christmas gift. Fathers, men, older brother, uncles surround tables of snacks to nibble, washed down with drinks of preference, sharing talks and tales of the year past, while some are fixated on the television. Without a doubt the knowledge of the coming day, the reason and expectation is in the air and lingering behind everyone’s mind. Some thinking about the stress of making it fun from the kitchen, some about the strain it puts on their pockets just to see that smile on the faces of loved ones, and some without a care in the world, just waiting for the combination of the joy of the day.
But for some folks, they take that time to reflect on their present situation and compare to this same time last year, which is exactly what I’m doing right about now; writing your white fake *beep*. Last year was the end of me believing in you, this year I’ve taken things into my own hand, definitely not going to write you a list of what I want, cause its been proven that you’re the worst(and still the best) fraudster ever. Selling fake dreams to kids, telling them u leave in the North Pole, sliding down chimneys with you oversized tummy, talking about flying reindeers pulling sledges. Really!!! Don’t buy that story anymore. What I do believe in are the people around me that show me love, and are there for you when you want and need them.
People who are going to wake up tomorrow, enter the kitchen selflessly and prepare me roasted chicken with mushroom and herb stuffing, dipped in wine sauce to go with the all famous fried rice and barbeque sauces, green vegetable salad, and grilled pork chops. An aunty who has already delivered a self baked 3layer chocolate, strawberry and vanilla cake going down with creamy ice cream, there’s also minced pie or Christmas pudding just in case. Try sending that down my chimney you big fat *beep*.
You think you’re the only one who gives gifts? Well I have news for you; I’ve got my own personal Santa – ME! I got me a puppy for Christmas, friends suggested I name him after you, I said “not even if it was the last name in the world and my life depended on it”, my wardrobe is taking a new turn thanks to some lovely people, and for once I really didn’t bother to want anything for Christmas, and guess what? Its paying off because every gift I’ve gotten and would get would truly be appreciated.
You’ve taught me Christmas doesn’t evolve around red, white and green; it revolves around those you love and love you back, forming a chain and bond that ties us through till the next season. My point is we don’t really need you after all, you just a sick old psycho that feed on hopes and dreams. I also really do hope you took my advice from my last letter.
But just in case you do have a change of heart, you know where I leave. I’m not asking for anything, just surprise me, but just for tips a bold 5 or iphone 4OS would be lovely. Merry Christmas

Dear Santa 2......................AGAIN

Dear Santa,
Really don’t know why I bothered, really don’t, but I’m still pushed to write to you again. It wont feel right if I didn’t thank you, thank you for leaving up to my expectations of you, thank you for confirming my opinion, thank you for nothing, for crushing my expectations, for making me finally realize that you are a fat white potbellied racist. I really thought I stood a good chance of being on you list of people to visit. Even gave out my neighbourhoods secret to hunt out Rudolf, but being the back stabbing prick you are, you skipped my place. But hey, I don’t hold it against you. I really don’t, but so you know you’ve gone down in my book as a fraud and scam artist.
You actually thought you could wreck my Christmas by not showing up, didn’t you? well I’m sorry but my Christmas was still fun with out you stupid presents, I may not have gotten any gift from you, but I still got some from people who believe in me and know I’m worth something. Didn’t get the blackberry, zune, camera, PS3 or even the date, but I still got my new wardrobe and accessories, you hear that…….i got presents from my own personal Santa and they sure ain't white, fat, hairy and over weight. So with all inborn energy I say, YOU LOSE!
In the end I got to realise that Christmas doesn’t circle round you, matter of fact you are what you are because we give you that yard stick, but not anymore for me. For me my Christmas is about being with those that give a rats ass about me, that also believe that the best we can be is when we are together under one roof exchanging laughs, smiles and good times. This I guess would be my new message, and my aim for 2011, …..to put you out of business. Good luck to you trying slide down chimneys, you just might be landing in a snare or be charged for breaking in and entry. See how you’ll survive behind bars, you’ll be turned into someone’s white b***H. As for you reindeers, my target practise just increased. Next season we’ll be having roast deer for supper. You’ll go from HOHOHO to NONONONO.LOL
I’ll definitely have the last laugh and trust me it won’t sound like HOHOHOHOHOHO
Yours Truly
Your biggest fan

WHO AM I

WHO AM I?
When asked, “In one word describe yourself”, one never finds the one perfect word to describe self, not even two. Self description is like a bottomless pit.
Who am I?
A lucid question with infinite definition, judging from the fact that every human is everything including complex, that’s why till today we still study self to figure out why we are and who we are. How then would you be able to describe self when self itself is totally confusing?
Who am I?
Is “I” a creation of self or an accumulation of various factors? Definitely not a creation of self, for self in its true nature is dependent, dependent on others, how then can self be SELF when self never really is SELF but a reflection of probable self. If an accumulation then “I” can’t be defined by self but by the factors that determine “I”. No matter how “I” thinks, “I” is shaped and modeled not by self but life, substance, environment, peers, religion, friends, politics, institutions, states, countries and many more. So how then can I know who I am when I evolve with every given factor. If change is the only constant then “I” is a variable, if “I” can’t be an island, then “I” is a cosmopolitan city, “I” in its true nature is complex, irrational, unstable, unpredictable and above all confused. For what “I” is today wouldn’t be the same the next day. “I” hates rock today, tomorrow “I” is rocking Avril Lavigne, “I” prefers tall, slim dark and cute/handsome next day “I” is with average, fair, plus size and cute. “I” doesn’t like fish, next night “I” is in line at point-and-kill with cute/handsome, average and plus size. Movies are boring; over the weekend “I” is at the cinema. What is the big deal about the BB? Next month “I” has a numb finger from pinging. And it goes on.” I”, an insatiable evolving being with no defined face, moulded by its past, only sure of the present and elusive of the future. How then can I base my definition when the outcome of my tomorrow is unknown?
Who am I?
I am not what I am but what you make me to be, not by the totality of my choice but by the chances and circumstances that come my way, by the integration of different and other “I”s. I am only what I am by choice, choices made from what is given, which I have no control over, Thank God for choice. My true definition comes only with the present and similar circumstances, after which a pattern could be deduced but doesn’t mean irrational changes can’t be made when different variables create same situation. Example: “ I”, doesn’t cheat, but what happens when “I” is in a tight spot and passing means cheating? Would I still be “I”, or would I evolve to be a different “I”? Its clear and obvious that the characterizing factor determining “I” are the choice “I” makes, be it good or bad, wrong or right, slow or fast, positive or negative.
Who am I?
I could be one that makes the right choices, I could be one that makes wrong choices, or I could be the one that mixes both right and wrong choices to create a distinct “I”. Choices that make “I” feel in control and responsible, but in reality “I” is never in control, if it was, words like fate and destiny would be alien to the dictionary, but words like satisfaction, regret, fulfillment that gives “I” hope of control and responsibility. If “I”, a one word could be so complicated, what happens when “I” progresses to ME, WE, YOU, THEM, OTHERS and eventually EVERYBODY. I guess we could only find out if WE understand “I”, then WE can move on to YOU, OTHERS and eventually EVERYBODY…..God help WE.

In one word “WHO AM I?” COMPLEX

My Birthday

Its almost 4.00pm as I pull close to my house, I know this because the beautiful voice on radio just announced that immediately after One Republic’s Secrets the 4 O’clock news would be read. I really wasn’t feeling happy, to think about it, really couldn’t remember why I was feeling grumpy, one thing I do remember was the date, the date was 14th January, my birthday. So far all I know is the time, date and how I felt, not a good way and time to be feeling the way I felt.

I get to my gate, hoot me horn and wait for my sister to open, two minutes passed before I remembered my sister was off at school. Damn! With my foul mood I descend and let my self in, dogs wagging its tail awaiting the usual ruffle greeting, but my mood’s a killer the poor things’ senses pick it up, its tail shrivel between it hind legs. Mum’s cars parked, why didn’t she come help me with the gate? Didn’t really care, I let myself in, walked into my room, stripped to my boxers, got me a bottle of water and walked into the sitting room………………….SURPRISE!!!!!!! I almost wet my pants, actually I did, I spilled the bottle of water on me and down to my pants.

What I saw was beyond my wildest imagination, my mum, brother, sisters, couple of friends and even my dream girlfriend all in front of me surprising me with a birthday party. Like a quick flash back in movies, I had a quick flood of emotions, from grumpy, to shock, rush of embarrassment and finally an elation of joy, happiness and love. They threw me a birthday party and I was surrounded by people close to me. There was food drinks. Music and then there was cake. My mum came in with a candle lit cake that lit up the whole room and was singing the all famous happy birthday song. For some reason everyone’s lips where moving but I could only hear my mum’s voice, then in the middle of the song she asked “are you still sleeping?” Odd! Why would she ask that when I was standing right in front of her. Her next move shocked me; she freed her right hand and tapped me on the shoulder saying “wake up, birthday boy wake up”. I soon realized why everything was too good to be true, I was asleep, I finally woke up. The birthday song was real, my mum was singing it, the candle light also was real, but it sat on a candle stand not on a cake. It was 6.30am, 14th January and PHCN was holding power.

The time is 6.35am and the date is 14th January. Today is my birthday, not yesterday, not tomorrow, but today. What was, was all just a dream, its 6.35am I’m psychic because today’s the one day my phone would actually ring more than twice. Text messages would pour in, my facebook page would be a side attraction. I might be home alone with my mum but nothing stops my dream from coming true. I have breakfast and head out; unconsciously I’m dressed the same way I was in my dream, cant call that coincidence, more like me walking in the direction of my dream becoming a reality. Like expected my facebook page’s bleeding out wishes, my phones constantly ringing, some friends are kept on call waiting, I even got a message from my pastors. Time check now is 3.30pm and still I’m all smiles. Seen a couple of friends, had a couple of drinks, still don’t see why my mood would turn grumpy. 3.45pm I stop to buy a bottle of wine, I select a bottle head for the counter to pay; that would be N700 the cute cashier said. That’s when it turned south, I couldn’t find my wallet. Damn it! I think I left it at the bar. There goes my ATM, drivers’ license, cash. I called my guys but none of them had seen it. Feeling all grumpy and mad I drive home. Then I hear a familiar voice on the radio saying something about the news at 4.00pm. That’s when it hit me, I’ve been waiting for my sister to come open the gate but she wasn’t home, she was back in school. It hit me immediately that this was me leaving my déjà vu. My dream was coming true. Grumpy mood – check! Voice on the radio – check! Waiting at the gate – check! Alright man. Try not to jinx this, stay grumpy, but I couldn’t. I drove into the compound, mum’s car packed - double check! Dog wagging tail waiting for usual greeting – triple check. I couldn’t believe my streak of faith. With all composure I let myself into the house didn’t bother changing, headed straight for the sitting room, calculating how surprised I should be, I entered and BAM! I was greeted by an empty house, No surprise, no brother, sisters, mum friends or even my dream girlfriend. Just like in the dream, I had a quick flood of emotions, but different, my excitement turned to shock, then disappointment and finally sadness. Dreams, that’s what it was all, mare dreams. So I picked my sulking self, went to my room and slept.

The time is 6.30pm and I hear my mum singing the birthday anthem, I see a candle light coming close to my bed………not again, not another dream? Wake up son, come make a wish. I open my eyes only to see the candles sitting on a cake, my mum alone, with a wine in hand. This was no dream; my mum got me a cake and gave me my wallet. Told me a friend dropped it off while I was sleeping, apparently I left it in his room when I dropped him off and picked up his MI2 CD. My lips with quick reflex carve out a big clown smile, this wasn’t my dream exactly, but it just had to do. I did get my surprise and my cake, with a card addressed from my brother, sisters and friends….no dream girlfriends.

We sat down at the candle lit dining table sipping wine and nibbling on cake and Tobleron, with MI2 playing “nobody” at the background. I’m all smiles, it couldn’t have ended any better, or so I thought.

My phone rings,

Unknown number;

“Happy birthday dear” the voice said;

HORSE S**T!!!!

It was my dream girlfriend.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME