I heard...

Article in The Punch newspaper 2 weeks ago:

“NIGERIA LOSING 419 FRANCHISE

It appears other nations are snatching our 419 franchise right before our eyes. You might say this is a good thing but a loss is a loss….”

Our forefathers say...

"Wetin you no go chop no use teeth divide am".

-Warri proverbs from Warri No Dey Carry Last

Tips On Driving In Lagos

In line with my new-found Lagos Love, I found this article I saved from a random blog ages ago. I thought it was really funny but I don't remember now who wrote it...or the blog it came from. I'm working on finding out though. *wears Sherlock shades*

TIPS ON DRIVING IN LAGOS:

1. When in doubt, accelerate!
2. Be prepared to ram anything stopping you wearing a uniform in Lagos (Police, Traffic Warden,FRSC, ‘Kai Brigade’, Fire Brigade, VIO, LASTMA, LASWA, even LAWMA sef)
3. If you get caught by any chance, DO NOT allow them to enter your car, if they happen to get in DO NOT drive from that spot (veer off traffic & settle somewhere quiet). And if they don’t agree, form calling your uncle who is in the army (believe me it always works), never follow them to ANY sort of office except you wanna pay x10
4. Never give police or VIO your original particulars (whether expired or up to date).
5. Danfo drivers believe they are immortal. NEVER yield to the temptation to teach them otherwise.
6. Okada riders have a pact with suicide, avoid them like a plague.
7. Avoid BRT buses in all ramifications, they have NO brakes.
8. Taxi cabs (oko asewo) should always have the right of way, all of them have been driving in Lagos for 25yrs.
9. Never, ever, stop for a pedestrian unless he flings himself under the wheels of your car.
10. The first parking space you see will be the last parking space you see. Grab it. Survival of the fittest you may say!
11. Learn to swerve abruptly. In Lagos, potholes (and sometimes car-holes) are put in key locations to test drivers’ reflexes and shock absorbers,( I saw one man fishing in one of the potholes last week).
12. There is no such thing as “one-way” in Lagos. Expect traffic from any direction at all times. The Okada riders are the experts in this area.
13. Never get in the way of a car that needs extensive bodywork, except you want to spend your entire Saturday @ the panel beater’s place.
14. Morning rush-hours are equivalent to Lagos grand prix (who gets to the junction first).
15. There is no such thing as a short-cut during rush-hour traffic in Lagos. Everybody might be inclined to take that ’short-cut’.
16. When asking for directions, always ask at least 3 people. Lagosians ALWAYS claim to know every inch of the city – even areas they’ve never been to.
17. Use extreme caution when pulling into service lanes. Service lanes are not for breaking down the traffic, but for speeding, especially during rush hour.
18. Never use directional signals, since they only confound and distract other Lagos drivers, who are not used to them.
19. Similarly, never attempt to give hand signals. Lagos drivers, unused to such courtesies, will think you are making obscene gestures to them. This could be very bad for you in Lagos.
20. Hazard lights (popularly called “double pointer”) is not, (as commonly supposed) used to indicate a hazard. It is a warning to you that he is a bona fide Lagos driver, he’s headed ’straight’ and as such, will not stop under any circumstance. Take him extremely seriously especially if he backs it up with a continuous blast from his “horn”.
21. At any given time, do not stand on the zebra crossing expecting traffic to yield to you, or else you will have to explain to the on coming traffic whether you look like a zebra.
22. Speed limits are arbitrary figures posted only to make you feel guilty.
23. Remember that the goal of every driver is to get there first by whatever means necessary.
24. In Las Gidi every spot is a potential bus stop. FRSC and LASTMA know that too. It is in their constitution.
25. Above all, keep moving. Even with a flat tire!!!

JARA*:
HORNING IN LAGOS
- ‘Horn’ when someone executes a dangerous manoeuvre.
- ‘Horn’ when you’re about to move off.
- ‘Horn’ when you’re about to overtake.
- ‘Horn’ when someone is about to overtake you.
- ‘Horn’ when turning into a road.
- ‘Horn’ when emerging from a road.
- ‘Horn’ back when someone horns at you. It’s considered good etiquette.
- ‘Horn’ when you hear a chorus of horns. Don’t worry if you don’t know what all the ‘horning’ is about.
- ‘Horn’ when you’re happy.
- ‘Horn’ to the beat when you’re playing music in your car.
Good luck, as you expeditiously navigate through Lagos and hustle and bustle!

*Extra

With Love From Lagos

A
After living in 3 countries and visiting several others in over two decades, I solemnly declare that Nigerians are potentially the most insane primates on God’s grey earth. (***Mad cows included in research).

I was not a fan of the foolery that was Big Brother Allstars (Africa) 2010, but I found myself somehow distracted into watching the South Africa located finale on telly. Seeing Uti, the Nigerian winner, dancing ‘Alanta’ as he hip-hopped his way out of the house only to find the (Nigerian) presenter joining him mid-stage in the notorious finger-wiggling, leg jiggling dance caused me pause. How does the territorial jurisdiction that is Nigeria manage to exist without imploding on itself with so many larger than life personalities crammed into the admittedly small space that is my nation state?!? Amazing. Scientists better leave stem cells and get to researching questions that truly matter! I wouldn’t blame a foreigner for wondering; “What is the point of being African if you’re not Nigerian?”

The soliloquy above was a discussion I had with the villagers and elves at the town hall of the Village D’Incroyables, (population:1), located in the deeper recesses of my medulla in the wee hours of the morning. The vitality of the Nigerian forms a substantial portion of my daily intellectual ponderings at the dawn of each new morning (yes, really). I think Nigeria, with its teeming humanity, concentrated chaos and intensified mayhem is VH1’s dream reality show. Lagos in particular with its unique mesh of eccentrics, posers, loonies, deluded, cool cats, gold-digging hustlers and comics amongst others, would be the perfect setting. The show would be a brutally honest expose on life. (Emphasis on ‘brutally’). I can already see it now! It would be titled ‘TIN’; a salute to that oft given answer to every frustrated question on why things don’t work in Nigeria ; “…This. Is. Nigeria!!” (T.I.N). And a subtle dig at many Nigerians' mis-pronounciations of words like the the ‘TH’ in THing. Birds 2. Stone 1.


The show would make for great reality TV simply because there would be no need for the fake acting and simulated scripts propagated by pretend ‘reality’ shows. Yes Kardashians, shots fired at you. The drama will not need to be created, the life of the average Nigerian has some modicum of drama attached to it automatically. It’s the default position in a country where basic amenities are considered luxury provisions. It's no wonder that Nigerians as individuals are one-man riot bands! In some ways Nigeria is Life….Exaggerated. Nigerians are a breathing exaggeration of every action; we laugh loud and hard, we wave our hands and whip our weaves in self expression, we cry long and heavy. It seems like a generalization but watch a group of young Nigerians interact and you’ll see what I mean.

Maybe this is why Nigeria has the awesome power to regularize so many things; things that would formerly seem totally out of place to me, somehow aren't anymore after a few months of living here. I know that lawns are made to be walked (sorry, MARCHED) on and queuing is only for the incredibly foolish, shouting over and bullying your way o the front is always advised. I also know now, of course, that caucasian foreigners are ALWAYS expatriates, NEVER immigrants...jobless or otherwise. Somehow you get used to never actually seeing women who have full front hair, thanks to the abrasive yet exotic-looking effect of tight yet terribly tidy braids. And normal is attending events where you are surrounded by a veritable sea of women with 100% authentic hair.… only every strand a home-grown production from the skull of one Sheeva Patel in Bombay or a Maria santa Monica in Peru. (I will say this trend is worrying for even me; the official face of Women Addicted to Weaves (WAW)). How about the Grief-Free Celebration-Only Zones that funerals in Nigeria are? Add to this mix, tales of daylight armed robbery attacks, head hunters (literally) for voodoo sacrifices, or churches where pastors claim to be able to give women children *pause and medititate on the swindle*. It’s an extraordinary place, this Nigeria is.

What I find fascinating is that in the consistent frenzy of activity and the concentrated mass of humanity, there is a warmth present here that is distinctly African and incomparable to any other place in the world. The disadvantage of many busy cities is the isolation that capitalism, industrialisation and technology bring. Yet somehow Nigerian cities, like Lagos, have somehow managed to remain fast-paced and exciting yet the real citizen of Lagos state (not the fronting newly repatriated 'foreign' Nigerian), is friendly, boisterous and funny. And probably looking for the fastest way to divest you of your best bits. Lol. …story for another day.




I like the spirit in this country. A special brand of welcoming, warm friendliness that manages to straddle that fine line between cool and crazy. Its like visiting that kooky, jolly aunty in the village that always hugs you too tightly and smells of mothballs; she’s a little too loud, often obnoxious but never ever boring.


Nigeria, and Lagos in particular, has worked its magic on me. After almost a month of living like a working-class Island Girl (whooop for finishing my internship in Lagos!), I find Lagos quite enchanting (in a non-cinderella-storyesque way). As I stare from my vantage point at the back of the car in traffic and watch others who, like me, are hurriedly applying a Mac counter full of war paint to camouflage baggy eyes and distract from birdnest hair as we all prepare to face another day in the jungle that is Lagos, Im surprised to feel that in the midst of the madness, I can see myself settling here.

I can almost smell the mothballs.

Because I Love It

The best thing about having a blog, and I've waxed lyrical about this previously, is being able to share 100% authentic Sweet Nothings with no one, yet maybe everyone in the world. Not the sweet nothings deluded lovers whisper under the dying embers of an autumn dusk, the real foolish and silly things of life that still somehow manage to be sweet. *Made sense in my head*

One of these things are Norman Rockwell paintings. They are a little vintage without being dated as the themes remain fresh, but I think the real appeal to me is the throwback to a simpler time or just to baser emotions that unite all humans race, status, continent wide.

This one always makes me smile, maybe because in so many ways, as a veteran (twice honoured), board approved Mischief Maker, I can identify with The Nuttiest Girl In school. *giggles*.

Favourite Things...

This is one of my favourite poems...and I seriously suspect I've put it up on the blog before but I'll put it again because hell, its my party and I'll cry if I want to!...Well, it is in line with the 21st century pentecostal self-helpism I'm preaching and feeling these days TBH!


WHO UNDERSTANDS ME BUT ME


They turn the water off, so I live without water,
they build walls higher, so I live without treetops,
they paint the windows black, so I live without sunshine,
they lock my cage, so I live without going anywhere,
they take each last tear I have, I live without tears,
they take my heart and rip it open, I live without heart,
they take my life and crush it, so I live without a future,
they say I am beastly and fiendish, so I have no friends,
they stop up each hope, so I have no passage out of hell,
they give me pain, so I live with pain,
they give me hate, so I live with my hate,
they have changed me, and I am not the same man,
they give me no shower, so I live with my smell,
they separate me from my brothers, so I live without brothers,
who understands me when I say this is beautiful?
who understands me when I say I have found other freedoms?

I cannot fly or make something appear in my hand,
I cannot make the heavens open or the earth tremble,
I can live with myself, and I am amazed at myself, my love, my beauty,
I am taken by my failures, astounded by my fears,
I am stubborn and childish,
in the midst of this wreckage of life they incurred,
I practice being myself,
and I have found parts of myself never dreamed of by me,
they were goaded out from under rocks in my heart
when the walls were built higher,
when the water was turned off and the windows painted black.
I followed these signs
like an old tracker and followed the tracks deep into myself
followed the blood-spotted path,
deeper into dangerous regions, and found so many parts of myself,
who taught me water is not everything,
and gave me new eyes to see through walls,
and when they spoke, sunlight came out of their mouths,
and I was laughing at me with them,
we laughed like children and made pacts to always be loyal,
who understands me when I say this is beautiful

-Jimmy Santiaga Baca

If You Let Yourself Learn

The older you grow, the more likely to come to pass your fears become. Your silly ones like never disabusing yourself of the need to suck your thumb when you sleep. Or serious like losing someone you love. In essence, life happens. I’ve really hated the darker times in my largely sun-filled life. But I’ve also learnt a lot about myself and life in general in those times. In fact far more than I’ve learnt at any other time in my life…it’s like being on an intense, condensed course in Sadness with electives in Toughening Up and In-depth Self Reflection as side options. Things that took me 20 fairly odd years to learn about myself and others, I learnt in a few weeks of sorrow and mild depression.

One of the things I hate most about Sorrow is her bald, acrylic-taloned, flat chested (i imagine) companion; Fear. That instant, pervading and permanent fear that engulfs you, from the moment one of your hidden fears becomes a reality. Your heart stops, your head spins, the air in your lungs escape your lips in a hurry, your hands shake…your tear ducts squeeze but nothing comes out...as if your watermen aren't keen to release any fluid, like they are too despondent to produce the tears they are supposed to. Your whole body, mind and soul wilts in defeat as you think of 101 things left unsaid or said or couldadonebetters or oughtnottohaves. You’re hurting but you’re too shocked to cry or link the building blocks of alphabets into words to share your pain, to express your rage, your eyes are glazed and your heart actually feels like a paper weight; heavy and hollow. Sigh, I hate going through that painful process. The only thing comparable is that first moment where your soul suspects that sorrow is probable and imminent, the trepidation you live with right before the full extent of your upcoming hurt is unveiled is horrible. To me.

But day by day, after the realization hits, when it has settled and fits you snugly like that LBD that’s your best friend for one season you slowly begin to look behind you; not with horror, confusion or sorrow but with a better perspective, a new understanding of yourself, others, situations. The process is hard but the lessons you learn are invaluable.

I’ll share what I’ve learnt in recent times; I can only control my own actions. I am responsible for no one else’s.

Manipulation, fervent hoping, cold wars, mind games, wild expectations, will get you nowhere fast. Follow Your Bliss. Expect a 100% from yourself all the time. Do your best ONLY because that is what you want from yourself; being the best version of yourself you know how to be. Ultimately, you can only control and are only accountable for your own actions. When people say things like if "I was more like *insert perceived favourable trait*, this wouldn't have happened..."I quietly ask them to take a seat in the corner and face the wall, they seldom agree but that's neither here nor there. Holding yourself responsible for another's actions is the invite to the Guilt & Self-Pity Lounge. Thank Great Jehovah for helping me realise this mid-self evaluation. If you know you've done your best please don't blame yourself if things don't work out the way they ought, you've done your bit now leave it to the Finisher of Our Faith to work things out. God impresses me time and time again with His uncanny ability to steadily work things out in a way that benefits me in the end; the secret is to ask consistently through the pain "...show me the lesson here! Please!" Otherwise all of that anguish is actually your own time wasted if you GAIN nothing at all! *Shakes head vehemently* I MUST learn something if only so I can feel like I defeated the situation. A little. I'm competitive like that.


The entire point of this article, was to get to this final point...What I Like Best About Pain.

The education it brings and the empowerment that follows heartbreak is invaluable. It's like your body develops an immunity, the possibility of your Self being attacked again of course always remains, but you’re more knowledgeable in self-preservation. More than that if you listen to the still, small voice inside, you realize that you have a new-found confidence, not in things or people but solely in yourself, your abilities to survive time and time again. Suddenly you feel invincible, and I think that’s what every human has at their core; a strength and resilience that will always let you survive… if you Let Yourself Learn.