Sod's Law

So 12.39pm finds me not in my class, as expected of a respectable College of (the) Law of England and Wales' student with classes from 12pm to half two, but in the library blogging away in reckless abandon.

The reason for this is not my purpoted(read; disgustingly shameless) laissez-faire attitude to the things I am uninterested in. The College of Law currently ranks in the ‘Supremely Unconcerned’ zone...with every suspicion of its languishing in this zone for the foreseeable future, what with the daily barrage of work they pile on my dainty coiffure. Honestly, for someone who works best….ok then, someone who works ‘okay’, right at the very end of the year by subsisting on cramming and sheer willpower, having to attend classes everyday and hand-in substantial amounts of work DAILY is not really my thing….*hears mother’s voice in head “Oho! So whose thing is it then?!”* Well, for one, it certainly is some other Law students’ thing, I assure you! If I hear one more solicitor-in-training excitedly chirp about the glorious joys of detangling Tax Law equations, or spot another raising hands, unprompted, to answer questions like his armpits have hedgehogs lodged in their depths, oh it will be on! *snaps finger in ‘Z’ formation*

I have never been a stickler for daily attendance at school largely because I honestly believe that the amount of money we pay as tuition fees can NOT possibly cover the amount of suffering each disturbingly boring class brings. (Sit down Mr Cameron! I don’t mean I agree with your hair-brained scheme to increase fees…we all know who will be the real victims of that; England’s Money Pigs a.k.a The International Students. The BNP always conveniently forgets this group of sacrificing youth, in its incessant lectures on immigration. And all their 'Nigger Get Like Me, I'm Ethnically British' swagger. Ok so that was a David Banner remix of what the BNP actually say not what they have said, well at least not what they have said in public. Yet. But one does hope.

One digresses.
 
So, supreme unconcern aside, I have long since the first term of my first year at university realised that law was not really my passion in life. *Hears daddy reasonably intone, “Its stability not passion that provides food for one’s table”. Regardless of this untimely realisation, I have gone on to complete a law degree from a renowned university, attained a masters from another prestigious institute, studying at the ‘UK’s best law school' and I’m looking to crown my scholarly pursuits with knowledge of the nefarious laws of my motherland. (So yes, I do believe I have successfully stolen the Great Pretender award from King Edward VI).

So attending classes and doing all those things that are necessary in the quest for the haloed grail of good grades is something I have gotten quite skilled at. Even when all i want to do is make like Little Britain's Vicky Pollard and ask the world "AM I BOVVERED THO'?" Now, after this long winded whine session, you may conclude that this general disinterest in my daily studying is the reason I am currently lounging in the library blogging away with nary a care in the world as my class goes on 3 doors away? Simple answer, Transport For London....To borrow a most Nigerian term; in short, LONDON as a whole!

Now, I must profer a disclaimer at this point to my accusing TFL when I am Nigerian. Mainly because the Nigerian traffic causes us to give at least a two hour grace period when scheduling appointments. I guess I shouldn't complain about slow trains and all. I will anyways.

As I was saying, from time to time it seems like the universe syncs with all its natural accomplices to frustrate the milk of human kindness out of a person’s spirit. Apparently this is called Sod's Law. The stated law is defined by the Urban Dictionary as "A humorous axiom stating that anything that can go wrong will go wrong." In London, 'time to time' appears to be every other day for most commuters.
 
Take for instance this ordinary day in the life of a regular London student.

Today you have an early, essential lecture. This is of course, the very day that the bustop in front of your house is ‘Not In Use’ as the bus has to be diverted due to an accident at dawn caused by rival gangs playing Stab-Da-Bredrin on your street. You finally decide to walk to  the next available bus stop 15 minutes away on this blisteringly cold morning. Halfway there the heavens open and blessings of the wet variety descend on your newly coiffured hair which you were rather eager to show off at this morning’s lecture.

You hurriedly sweep your fingers through your heavy bag, frantically searching as you still attempt to walk briskly along, stopping only once to remove your gloves for a more thorough search. Refusing to believe the obvious...that your umbrella is cushioned warmly between your wallet and housekeys, both still laying calmly forgotten on your dresser. Dearly wishing you were in a country littered with street hawkers with whom you would have conveniently picked a fight and vented your frustration, you instead Bolt to the bustop like a mature post-graduate student towards a ‘Free Food’ sign.

You obviously miss your bus. Wait 10 minutes in the vicious, sleeting and perpetual English rain, finally smiling as you see another bus approaching your bus stop. As you look into your bag to find your Oyster, Oga Driver just take style scale pass you, leave you dey gawk!! In English, the one second you put your head down to withdraw your Oyster card, the bus driver assumes you are not waiting for his bus and it sails past on its merry way.

You finally get on a bus, and there is no place to seat. Of course. So you stand there creating your own puddle as little children in bright wellies look longingly at the water pooling at your feet even as their mothers give them that 'Step Into That Water And Feel My Wrath' look that must be a compulsory elective at Mummy College. You stand for the short ride to the tube station and quickly rush to your platform on your arrival....then watch your train go chugging past IMMEDIATELY you arrive at the platform. Just like your train was waiting for that ‘monkey-sucking-a-lemon' look you now have on your face as you stare at its cheerfully retreating backside.
 
The next train of course will be delayed because today is the day someone decided to end their life AND inconvenience the world at the same time, by jumping in front of a train. Not to make light of suicide, but it seems a rather selfish thing to do. Furthermore, jumping in front of a train seems the very height of selfishness. Think about the driver who will now live with a guilty conscience forever. And how about the other commuters who might be scarred by the experience. Although admittedly many Londoners will unremorselessly think ‘good riddance’. But still!

So, the train is delayed and when you do get on a train(FINALLY!), it moves so slowly that you immediately believe that what you have  always suspected is indeed true, “Little midgets move trains”. Yes indeed, the train proceeds to move like it is being slowly pushed by a group of elderly midgets. Is this train-crawling limited to the Northern Line only?? Oh BORIS!!!!!
 
Anyways, you finally get to your destination, in my case School, so late that barging into the class at this point is tantamount to slapping your teacher Leona Lewis style (Is it too soon?... For someone to be so angry at her lack of personality that he slaps her is NOT funny. Well, not THAT funny.) So, you find yourself quietly seated in the library blogging away. Pretending you are not beyond elated to be given a reprieve from the mindless boredom that is an Accounting Law class.

I heard.....

"Everyday millions of people suffer from Monogomy. There is no known cure."- Carrie Bradshaw, Sex & The City.

I heard.....

"On the wedding day, the groom is smiling because he believes he is achieving something great by marrying this woman. The bride is smiling because she has been able to convince him that he is achieving something great." -Julie Garwood, No1 historical romance Author. In my book anyway.

Photographic Pornography

So Monday afternoon finds me actively procrastinating, BookFacing away while my Legal Ethics book stares accusingly at me, and I come across an interesting picture(the one above). At first, I did not actually know that the picture was of a Congolese man fleeing his home after devastation from war so imagine my slight surprise at the comments that followed what appeared to be an ordinary picture of an African man in the rain....

1. “OMG!”
2. “I actually have tears in my eyes”
3. “....The raw determination in that man's eyes is humbling. For them survival is the only alternative. There is a profound sense of duty and sacrifice. Very Emotive. Thank you for sharing. x”

My first thought: *Blank stare*

Me, secondly: *Er.....Why can’t he just be a man walking home in the rain and thinking “Stupid rain caught me two damn blocks from my house!...Shoot!...Umbrella-less as well....of all the bloody days....!”*

I know that’s exactly what would have had MY face in that mean-mug!


On seeing the picture and comments, I started to think of the relationship between the African as an individual and our depiction in the ‘Western’ media. Not Africa as a whole continent, just us as individual people. The media has done a great job of making all 900+ million Africans(yes, we breed...this is what we do. Get over it) into one big caricature. One suffering-disease-ridden-corrupt-AIDS-wielding-yet-stupidly-smiling-and-suffering stereotype. This attitude of stereotyping Africans and especially sensationalising our suffering trivialises the experience for those concerned. Someone once called it Photographic Pornography (thats neither here nor there, I just always wanted to use those words in a sentence).



And then I thought, do they know who we are?? Do they realise that our history as Africans is littered with Sages, Kings, Warriors, DIVAS, Amazons and Prophetesses amongst others? In Nigeria for instance, long before we were conveniently ‘discovered’, before the English ‘taught’ us representative democracy, we had our ‘Ohia-cracy’ (government of, for and by the people) in the East, the well structured Oyomesis and Bashoruns in the West and the scholarly Emirs in the North. Long before Mr. Mungo Park conveniently ‘found’ the Niger for us, we fished, bathed, washed...for goodness sake we ‘chillaxed’ on its muddy banks daily! Chinua Achebe and the other greats have detailed tales of warriors that drank from the skulls of slain enemies and women that led whole tribes to war. Where are they today? Where are the spirits of our ancestors?

Perhaps in the sultans that rule large villages and command the respect and admiration of their people? The revered herbalists with their alternative medicines? The 28 year old mothers working 10 hour days whilst caring for 2 toddlers plus one 32 year old kid? Or the African boys and girls sleeping in the library daily, working and dreaming of channeling their inner Barack in about a decade? These are todays africans, descendants of warrior tribes and Amazonian kingdoms. But, why don’t we see them on the news about Africa you ask? 

Well, they are the exact same people shown on your TV. But they are unrecognisable when they are reduced to one dimensional characters in the evening news or captured by the lens of modern day Mungo Parks on their gap year prior to university, intent on exploring Africa without attempting to understand the depth of its story. It’s little wonder that the stories and pictures produced therefore inspire “OMG’s!!” and “Tears in Eyes!” comments. The image of the african in the foreign media seems to be threefold only; Stealing & Smiling, Suffering & Smiling, or just Suffering.

Somewhere between the pictures of the African children clamouring hungrily around the foreign photographer’s camera and the last scene of the ‘Indepth Special on Africa’ on one of the popular foreign news channels, the humanity of the African is diluted. The simple joys found in the uninhibited celebration of small mercies, the contentment found in the life without the excessive trappings of wealth does not make it to the final footage shown on our t.v screens. The only thing that is apparent to the viewer at the end of these ‘specials’ is the idea that these people need your pity because they do not have your opportunity, your resources, your life. They do not tell you though, that some of these people don not in fact want any of the trappings of this ‘great’ life. They just want life as it is best lived; simple, unhindered and free.



Just remember the next time you are tempted to sensationalise a picture of an African that these are people like you. People living real lives, worthy of respect not just pity, fun loving, ordinary, happy and PROUD people. Just like you. I wish the media could learn to leave Africa to dance to the beat of its own drum or maybe tell our stories from our own eyes. Or just stop speaking for us and for goodness sake STOP translating when we are speaking English! The Texan accent is arguably as heavy as the Ghanaian yet they insist on using the 'invisible subtitles' for the Texans when they are interviewed on CNN. Lol! Ridamdiculous!

So, leave Africans to find OUR bliss if we choose not to pursue yours, after all who defines poverty? Who determines what suffering is? Maybe dancing in the rain (whilst watching the backdoor for signs of your mum’s arrival) is the new swing set? Or lying on a mat in the moonlight listening to grandma's stories is as good as a GossipGirl Fest? Who knows? Happiness is individual, like Africans. Our way of life is not less important or valuable or good. It might be simpler, easier, and freer....but never less.

In the immortal words of the Queen that is Kanye West “Let me be great, WHY WONT Y’ALL LET ME GREAT?????”...lol....I ask, “WHY WONT THEY LET AFRICA BE GREAT Y’ALL!?!!!!!!!?!”

*steps off soapbox and returns to studying*

I heard.....

"The fight for a pure mind is not a days job so don't give up when it doesn't appear overnight. It's a fight that might take days, weeks or months. Appreciate every small step you take forward and when it feels you have fallen, don't give up! Just get up and continue the fight. This is a fight you are guaranteed to win because God is on your side."

-2nd Corinthians 14:4

Reason number 9,556,663,436 iLOVE the Bible.

Favourite Things

I've Learned

I've learned that you cannot make someone love you. All you can do is be someone who can be loved. The rest is up to them.
I've learned that no matter how much I care, some people just don't care back.
I've learned that it takes years to build up trust, and only seconds to destroy it.
I've learned that it's not what you have in your life, but who you have in your life that counts.
I've learned that you can do something in an instant that will give you a heartache for life.
I've learned that no matter how thin you slice it, there are always two sides.
I've learned that you should always leave loved ones with loving words.
I've learned that we are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel.
I've learned that there are people who love you dearly, but just don't know how to show it.
I've learned that true friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance. Same goes for true love.
I've learned that just because someone doesnt love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.
I've learned that maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you've had and what you've learned from them and less to do with how many birthdays you've celebrated.
I've learned that no matter how good a friend someone is, they're going to hurt you every once in a while and you must forgive them for that.
I've learned that no matter how bad your heart is broken the world doesn't stop for your grief.
I've learned that just because two people argue, it doesn't mean they don't love each other. And just because they don't argue, it doesn't mean they do.
I've learned that we don't have to change friends if we understand that friends change.
I've learned that you shouldn't be so eager to find out a secret. It could change your life forever.
I've learned that there are many ways of falling and staying in love.
I've learned that no matter how many friends you have, if you are their pillar, you will feel lonely and lost at the times you need them most.
I've learned that the people you care most about in life are taken from you too soon.
I've learned that although the word "love" can have many different meanings, it loses value when overly used.
I've learned that love is not for me to keep, but to pass on to the next person I see.
I've learned that even when I have pains, I don't have to be one.
I've learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love that human touch - holding hands, a warm hug.

I've learned that either you control your attitude or it controls you.
I've learned that it's not what happens to people that's important. It's what they do about it.
I've learned that it's a lot easier to react than it is to think.
I've learned that sometimes when I'm angry I have the right to be angry, but that doesn't give me the right to be cruel.
I've learned that our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are, but we are responsible for ourselves.
I've learned that you shouldn't compare yourself to the best others can do, but to the best you can do.
I've learned that you can keep going long after you think you can't.
I've learned that sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you're down will be the ones to help you get back up.
I've learned that regardless of how hot and steamy a relationship is at first, the passion fades and there had better be something else to take its place.
I've learned that heroes are the people who do what has to be done when it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences.
I've learned that learning to forgive takes practice.
I've learned that it isn't always enough to be forgiven by someone else. Sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself.
I've learned that money is a lousy way of keeping score.
I've learned that making a living is not the same as making a life.
I've learned that my best friend and I can do anything or nothing and have the best time.
I've learned that if you want to cheer yourself up, you should try cheering someone else up.
I've learned that you can make someone's day by simply sending them a little card.
I've learned that your life can be changed in a matter of minutes by people who don't even know you.
I've learned that it's taking me a long time to become the person I want to be.
I've learned that mental stimulation is the way to a person's heart.
I've learned that just because your not together now doesn't mean it wasn't meant to be. Now is just not your time
I've learned that I still have a lot to learn.

*Many thanks to my friend 'Batty Katty' for sending me this poem

I heard.....

"Chief Gani Fawehinmi was simply inimitable, puritanically committed, inscrutably remonstrative, ideologically transcendental, quixotically cosmopolitan and a ready conveyor-belt of legal tomahawks which he intrepidly ...deployed in his cascading fulminations against our philistine military and political class. His transition is not just the fall of an Iroko but indeed the grand initiation of an iconic legal salamander. We only hope that we didactically learn herefrom that it’s not so much our sybaritic life styles that matters more than the quality of service we render whilst we sojourn on this earth plane".
-Comments by Nigerian Senator, Hon. Patrick Obahiagbon

EPIC. FAIL.

Lady.

LIFE. There is never a break. Every mountain you conquer, every pinnacle you reach is the beginning of a new struggle. You surmount your 19,331 feet Kilimanjaro only to confront your 29,002 feet Chomolungma patiently waiting for you to attempt its treacherous heights. Relaxation periods seem minimal and far between in this rat race that all mankind seem to be perpetually running. Like the imprisoned hampsters we amusedly watch on endless ferris wheels, humans are also on the ferris wheel of life. Amusment, minimal. Hobbes has arguably, come the closest to describing the true state of life; Nasty, Brutish and Short.

Arguably.

At age seven, life’s greatest conundrum revolved around the monumental decision; ‘Sky Dancers OR Jem & The Holograms?!?!?!’ When K-TV and Cartoon Netwrok dared to show both at the exact same time! Throwing little girls into fits of pure panic and apoplexy.





By ten, getting detention at school for something as criminal and dangerous to the morality of the youth as forgetting my slippers under my bed (one never forgets one's first encounter with a disturbingly over-zealous prefect,) was the death-knoll signifying the end of life as I knew it. How I wept and wept on thinking about the mark that first detention would make on my afore this time, Tabula Rasa of a record. Oh if only I knew how ‘graffitied’ that very slate would become, and how quickly I would morph into the African version of Miss Blyton’s Elizabeth Allen that I did eventually became in that local jail for children cleverly disguised as a boarding school (a ruse many a parent fell for), I would not have wasted my carefully rationed crocodile tears.

By thirteen, getting a result that boldly declared me ‘an average student’ to the consternation of my father meant that my quintessential purpose in life revolved around destroying any suspicion of mediocrity in my erythrocytes. So with the fear of Dear Daddy’s wrath weighing heavily upon my 13 year old shoulders, my life’s blood went into proving that mediocrity was indeed my kryptonite. That achieved, 16 found me trying to explain why the Government AND Literature-IN-English awards did not come home with me at the end of the year....in addition to the History award sitting in its honourary place in our family’s home.

So you see, with one problem comes another. Life goes on, for every problem there is a solution. AND an additional problem. Often the new problem is an inherent part of the solution that once provided much relief. For instance, there I was thinking if I did well enough I would have solved my problems. But ‘well enough’ opens your eyes to the realisation that there is MORE to achieve. 'More' quickly leads to 'Much More', then to 'Too Much' and Beverly Feldman wisely tells us that “Too Much Is Not Enough.”

From a sixteen year old girl to a 23 year old woman, I am beginning to understand that “...To Whom Much Is Given, Much Is Expected.” Luke 12:48. Leave what you heard, the Bible continues to spew forth relevant and surprisingly accurate advice that goes to the centre of today’s dliemnas. But I digress. The universe does not owe any of us a singular thing, in fact it is the most dubious of creditors, a veritable Shylock who will demand that ounce and a half of flesh, whether you are Ready or Not. Fugee la la la. I always thought this 12:48 referred to wealth but it can apply to any and everything you have. Be afraid. Be verrrrry afraid.

At 23 (as a barely 2 weeks old 23 year old, see how I brandish the number about. Eyes still gleaming with the joy and pride of registering another year on my life’s calender...not yet dimmed with the realisation that I am aging. Quickly. Benjamin Button style) I realise that the more years you hoard in your Basket of Life, the more, hell, the MUCH more is expected of you!

In the most basic of examples for instance, a 23 year old woman walks into the room and what people see is a young WOMAN. A young LADY. Not a young GIRL. Not just “The daughter of...” or “The friend of...” but she is seen first as a person in her own right. One whose actions will be attributed to herself alone. Rude words wont be easily chucked into the ‘Bad Home Training & Blame The Parents’ basket as easily as they once would have. Reactions to rudeness are quickly directed straight to the source, the rude woman. She very quickly deteriorates from ‘The young woman...’ to ‘ That young woman that can not carry herself in public’. As a young woman, you are now fully responsible for your words and actions in a different manner than you were as a young girl.

Long gone are the days when men look at a you and think ‘She’s a little girl, she will grow into a beauty.’ The time has come when much more is conveyed in received looks and first thoughts are not necessarily of the ‘Duckling to Swine conversion’ variety. (So woe betide you in this image-driven world if you have not shaped into the promised beauty!).

Rambunctiousness is no longer considered the ‘...excessiveness of youth’...smilingly said with a nostalgic sparkle in the speaker's eye. Boisterousness is often equated with loudness which seems to be indirectly proportional to a womans age and attractiveness. All of a sudden, carriage becomes the watch-word.

So at 23, at this new junction in my life, I am carefully consolidating all the information I have learnt in 23 largely pleasant years on God's Grey Earth. I’m observing the subtle nuances each additional year brings to the world’s expectation of me. Everyday, reveals more of myself as I interprete my role as an actor in the stage of life and my contribution to that niche in the world where my placeholder stands, with my name engraved waiting patiently as I find my place and fulfil my purpose.

I am learning that childlike charm like beauty, has its place. A 23 year old of the female specie is expected to be a woman. It’s like as soon as St. Peter italises that ‘21’ next to your name in The World’s Registry, He sends an internal memo to everyone you will meet and the expectation of ‘Woman NOT Girl’ is there from the start of the conversation to its very end. At 21 or even 22, you may still be forgiven for slacking and regressing (not too far back though) to your glorious teens. But by 23, the world staunchly ignores that Little Girl Inside Every Woman. And if she is not careful...or listens too carefully to the world.... the woman will neglect rather than tame her inner child, until the child's spirit is broken. And the Lady loses her Little Girl.

I heard.....

"My idea of housework is to sweep the room with a glance."