Thursday, 4 June 2009

CASH OR CREDIT 4.......

The wait is OVERRR guys, and I promise you is
well worth it! Part 3 can be found here!!

ENJOY
12.35pm



Thursday morning in the domestic terminals of Murtala Mohammed airport Ikeja. The cement floor in the lobby seemed to echo every step made by every passenger and porter, the numerous overhead ceiling fans, whirring unfailing to keep up with the air conditioners and do their bit to cool. Disorganized queues of shoving Nigerians lay before colorful cardboard signs displaying Chanchangi Airlines, Bellview and Virgin Nigeria.
Jen observed, away from this measured madness, safely in the little bookstore located in the only quiet corner of the airport.

As both the international and domestic flights shared similar runways Jen mused on her brief visits home when she was studying abroad in Liverpool. Her friends and other Nigerians living in Diaspora complained bitterly through cold winters, windy autumns and pollen abused springs. Nostalgic for home they viewed Nigeria through rose tinted spectacles. On return, they welcomed the noise of the city and the nosiness of its inhabitants. The surly faces of shop attendants who did not indulge you in plastered smiles; and road rage of speeding motorists on the wide highways. Jen loved travelling in a car, pretending that she wasn’t glued to her bus pass just a few thousand miles away. However, since returning to Nigeria permanently, all the charming quirks had become frustrating. She had become impatient, demanding and a lot more inquisitive. The oyibo mentality of queuing and so on had left her completely and easily as she had abandoned her winter jackets. It took three months in the making but Jen had fallen in love with Lagos again. The real Lagos, with a searing and encompassing love just as you would a real person; and just as one occasionally fought with someone they loved, sometimes she and Lagos would disagree. There have been times when she would get frustrated and make the odd reference to England-compare and contrast- but these instances were few and far between. She loved the hustle and the bustle, the crowds and the pure nonsensical ability of her people to find humor in everything. Come what may, Jennifer was glad she had learnt to laugh at herself.

That humor was standing her in good stead now as she stood in the souvenir shop mulling over the novel Swallow Song by Sefi Atta. She caught her reflection in the shop window and took in the site of the over-sized yellow shirt she had on. Its stiff collar with the white buttons done up haphazardly and the sleeves going all the way down to her finger tips. She looked like a drowned sunflower. Her grey shift dress peeked out just a few hems later, and the look the shop keeper gave her said she thought Jen got dressed in the dark.
“I was cold” Jen said. She didn’t know why she felt the need to explain. Raising her arm up above her head, Jen stretched to reach the Romance Novels- she could complain about their location but she assumed they were kept out of reach to prevent teenagers from secretly purchasing them behind their parents’ backs. Jen didn’t understand, after all a sale is a sale. Struggling to avoid being choked with dust dispelled as she sifted through Harlequin novels, her nose rubbed up against the shirt and she fearfully looked down, hoping her foundation hadn’t soiled his shirt, Esosa’s shirt.

Her mind flashed back to this morning, when he had literally forced her arms through his shirt “for her own good” he had said. Jen was sat on her desk, swinging her legs back and forth. Her back was turned to the elevator and she heard massive thuds, loud but hurried footsteps. She turned to face him and smile good morning, but Esosa wore that speculative look again.
“You’re going to be cold” he said flatly
“Good morning to you too” Jen responded in kind
Esosa smiled at her tone, he really enjoyed winding her up, teasing out her frustrated tone and drawing out arguments. He stared at her on the table wearing that annoyed look on her face that made her brows crease together. Arms that had hung at her sides with the palms resting on her desk were now folded across her chest, fair feet in black heels crossed protectively. Esosa drank in all of her, allowed himself to stare at the face he dreamt of this morning, the body that was unfair for any woman to have perched exquisitely on dark wood. He stared at her slowly and when he had drunk enough to keep him satiated for the rest of the day, his fill for the morning, he got down to business. Placing his brown briefcase on her chair, he briskly slid the catch open lifting out a bulging file spilling over with receipts. He did not ask for coffee and Jen did not offer, lest he call her an air hostess again. “If I want coffee I know where to get it” he would always reply

Jennifer had gotten used to Esosa; well she should as they had spent every single day together for the past month. He was the junior account manger at Etisalat and this was to be the huge launch. Jen was in charge of preparing the documentation regarding the account he was managing. The third person involved was the PR executive but he responded only via emails. PR brought ideas forward; Jen looked at potential profit margins on their implementation and Esosa provided the funds required to make it happen.
Jen was beginning to understand Esosa as well, she was acquainted with his workings at least. Jen had watched him work a thousand times now, he would go over the variable cost, mixed cost and sales mix in excruciating detail. The minute he got immersed he would sit over paper work completely still, like a statue or wax figure. He did not twirl his pen around his fingers like Jen or swivel on the chair like Meg. No calculator, no jottings on scarp paper, Esosa worked it all out in his head. His mental capability still astonished her; it was plain for all to see how intelligent Esosa was, which is probably why he got away with his horrible people skills. Mrs. Shaw could not speak highly enough of him and his attention to detail earned him a fan in even Mariya.

“In order to breakeven we need to have ascertained the behavior of both costs and revenues is linear throughout the relevant range of activity” Esosa started as he sat on Jen’s chair, adjusting its height. He had gotten comfortable already
“Are we implicitly assuming elementary discussions of costs and profits?” Jen replied still sitting on her desk, not fazed that just a minute ago he was staring at her like she was the reason he got out of bed. It was like this every morning, heavy hurried footsteps would announce his arrival; he would walk in and stare at Jen for a full minute, with unashamed awe and longing, taking in every aspect of her- be it a good clothes day or a bad hair one, then heave his shoulders and get straight to work. For the rest of the day, he would be nothing but professional- bent over paperwork, eat his lunch alone, exchange financial jargon with Mariya, eating Meg’s cookies- and when the day was done, he would leave with a hasty goodbye. Jen didn’t understand why he would not just ask her out so she could let him down easy, but instead the early morning stare continued for weeks.
Despite his lacking small talk ability and frank approach to sensitive issues Jen could not fault his number crunching. He was the most brilliant Strategic Economist Jen knew, and he took pride in his job which is an admirable trait. They sat together and dispelled figures, sharing a laugh when the PR man insisted on a fire work display “to incite excitement”
“Are u kidding me? Jen said
“You must be joking? Esosa replied at the same time
They laughed a bit longer and the atmosphere around them turned friendly
“You’re not so bad when you stop being grumpy” Jen stated
“You are not so bad when you are not being overly cheerful” Esosa replied. He looked away quickly because the sight of Jen laughing did things to his insides.
Esosa did not plan on liking Jen, he certainly found her beautiful right from the first day, even when she chirped in that false high pitched voice to him, but as the days wore on he was really growing fond of her. She had an obvious love for her job and she did it well, eager to apologize if she is the wrong and never made promises she could not keep. The deadlines were always met and even when they disagreed on expenditure, the very next morning she would have this huge smile on her face and greet him warmly. She was incapable of holding a grudge and Esosa found that compelling; her optimism exasperated him but he also envied it.
He was growing increasingly concerned for her well-being and now as he looked at her in her dress he knew she was going to shiver on the flight to Abuja. He did not want Jen to be cold, or too hot, he didn’t want her to be anything but content. Jen was someone who deserved to be happy if not for anything but the fact that she was a good person; Esosa had watched her interact with Musa, Sandra and the HR ladies. Jen had no airs about her and treated everyone she came across with respect.
They worked on till 11am when Jen got up to get packed for the airport. He walked her downstairs to the reception area and when she turned to thank him, Esosa placed his rough palms on her shoulders and said “You are going to be cold”
Jen looked down on the goose bumps forming on her arm and wish she’d brought a blazer. Esosa seemed to notice them too and he looked worried.
“They’re only goose bumps” Jen said smiling
“What are you going to do? Give me your shirt” she teased
Esosa unbuttoned his yellow shirt quickly and took it off, before Jen could protest he draped it around her shoulders “I don’t want you to be cold” he said again.

Jen stood in the little bookstore in the airport and stared down at the shirt, glad for its warmth. Esosa had the annoying habit of being right, about everything. Perhaps it was a Benin thing, they had joked during his first week about common Benin traits they shared. He tried to pin his know-it-all attitude on that, but Jen wasn’t buying. Jen bought the novel with the best picture, the leading man had no shirt on and she walked to her terminal to wait for her flight. She was to arrive in Abuja first to lay down some ground work, so she would miss the company of co-workers along the trip. This rendered the flight to Abuja boring and pretty soon she got tired of staring at clouds and opted to transport herself to the ship deck of the very hot pirate in her book. Why can’t I be taken prisoner by a rugged yet sensitive pirate? Jen wondered. She occasionally had to put it down because the intense scenes made her blush. She could only imagine what she looked like, the girl in the yellow shirt with the red face.

She got an odd look from an older lady, who thought it inappropriate that Jen brandished her steamy novel so openly. Jen would never get the hypocrisy, she wasn’t going to disguise the front cover of her novel, so it will be deemed fit to read in public. What was she? 16? Jen thought about telling her so, but decided against it. Esosa was rubbing off on her; to simply say as you thought must be liberating she had to admit.

As the Virgin Nigeria air hostess called out in false fone “landing sweets” Jen had to fight back a smile, there is no way she sounded like that? Esosa was being stupid, comparing her courtesy to that of a flight attendant, but still she laughed.

At the Nnamdi Azikiwe airport, Jen identified the company driver a short light-skinned man named Akpan. He held up the placard displaying her name very high, and Jen wondered how long he had been standing like that-his arms must hurt. The black marker managed to misspell her name; his placard read out Gen- Prada & Co. How could he think she was named after a generator? Walking up to him, she shook his extended hand and handed him her luggage, he introduced himself and Jen greeted him politely. She climbed into the back of the black Mercedes, the leather seats were cool to the touch, the air conditioner blared silently and Jen settled back with her book in her lap to watch the scenery. Jen had been Abuja just once, a long time ago for a cousins wedding. She hardly saw any of it, as her and her fellow bridesmaids ran around preparing everything for the ceremony. It was an exhausted Jen that got back on the plane to Lagos.

The radio was tuned to cool fm, and Jen got a tour of Abuja with the accompaniment of Tuface. Akpan had been chauffeuring for 12 years, as he watched Jen relaxed posture, her eyes fixated on the roads, he decided to take the long route. Give her a chance to really enjoy Abuja. Jen looked through polished windows as they drove by landscaped parks with families sitting on the long grass, pass a submerged fish joint situated beside a river. All major companies had moved their headquarters to the Abuja and the structural magnificence took your breath away. Domineering office complexes and gleaming sky scrapers kissed the clouds in the bright sky. Banks resembled museums and hospitals resembled hotels. The street lights stood guarding each wide road, every driver they passed had his seatbelt fastened, and most importantly there was absolutely no traffic. That was a breath of fresh air to this Lagosian. Oh perhaps she spoke too soon, as the car crawled by Independence Avenue and was met by a see of people clad in abayas, hijabs, jellabiyas, burqas and kaftans and niqabs. In explanation Akpan caught her eye in the rearview mirror simply stating “Its Friday”.

The golden globe of the National Mosque shimmered in the light of sun as if diamonds were buried in the orifices of its calligraphy. The four high minarets dominated each cardinal point and it looked magical and inviting just like a place of worship should. The speakers blared out Qur’an verses in Arabic as recited by the Ustaz and Jen listened in wonderment at a language she did not understand but was fascinated by. As a dark tall figure in a soft blue kaftan passed the car, Jen suddenly thought of Kabir, her fingers lightly traced the keys of her blackberry, wanting to re-read the text messages of apologetic longing he had sent to her phone continuously over the past month. Her logical side told her it was a pre-emptive strike deleting as soon as she received. Jen’s heart knew that she needed answers but she was not as yet certain that she could trust herself around Kabir long enough to listen to the explanations he begged her to spare time for. Jen was positive that she no longer desired him, the trust was gone and it is impossible to love without trust. On the other hand, she longed for that connection with someone else. To feel like you met in a previous life time, and it had been agreed that you will be true to one another. Jen had lost her faith and she resented Kabir for that.

The Benz pulled into the hotel grounds and Jen got out gracefully, taking time to stare at the huge water fountain in the center of the roundabout. She bid Akpan farewell, watched her luggage change hands as the porter led her to her room. Jen strolled in and surveyed it appreciatively; she loved the glass wardrobes and purple damask curtains. The shell lamps had been switched on and the TV remote control had been placed on the work surface desk but Jen ignored it and instead connected her iPod into the supplied docking station, turning up the volume of Sweetest Taboo by Sade. She hurriedly unpacked, hoping to squeeze in a shower before her first briefing, maybe even perhaps a chapter from her novel while lounging on the balcony. Walking to her sliding windows Jen pushed aside the gossamer curtains to reveal a beautiful view of the hotel swimming pool. Surprisingly, bile did not rise in her throat, there was no anger, no hurt; she merely stared at the ripples for a long time watching as children in bright trunks frolicked in the clear water. As Jen changed into the wonderfully soft bathrobe, her blackberry buzzed with an email from Shaw… Lobby in thirty minutes… sigh Jen thought. There goes my nice relaxing soak, turning off the taps in her adjoining bathroom Jen decided instead to call her parents and let them know she arrived safely.

Three hours later Jen stood beside the fountain of the hotel, getting lightly sprayed by the water.
“This is a nice end to the day” Esosa said causing Jen to jump
“I thought you could always hear me coming” he said laughing, as Jen put her hands over her mouth in an attempt to control her laughter
“The fountain is the only thing louder than your footsteps” Jen replied
“So” Esosa continued standing beside Jen within spraying distance “how was the briefing”
“More like a lecture” Jen complained “Spent the past couple of weeks working on this account that I started thinking I owned more of a stake in it than I actually do. All I do is prepare documentation, its not my baby and yet im experiencing withdrawal symptoms.”
Esosa stared at Jen’s saddened expression and held her hand, squeezing it tightly. He had worked on enough accounts to understand the attachment especially if work was used as a form of escape, which appeared to be the case with Jennifer. She poured herself into it, her mark was distinct but at the end it was for the big bosses to decide what needed to be done.
“Im treating myself to pashminas” Jen voice rang with determined optimism “at Wuse market”
“I’ll walk with you” Esosa said
“The company car isn’t here yet”
“Its not far, I’ll walk with you” Esosa repeated
“I’m sure you can’t wait” Jen said dryly
“It can’t be that bad, I mean, U’ll be there” Esosa said sincerely and Jen blushed
“The best time to go to the market is early in the morning or just before closing” Esosa said. With that Jen was sold and they began the trek to Wuse market.

Esosa nudged Jen playfully beside him as he slipped into the role of tour guide. Esosa had been to Abuja countless times and he explained how most of the town extended towards the south of Aso rock, the culture of the now displaced Asokoro people who lived in Abuja prior to 1980s when it became a planned city and infrastructure was brought in. Esosa answered Jen questions expertly explaining the division of Phase 1 into five districts and upon Jen’s insistence promised to guide her through the Three Arms Zone which housed the administrative offices of the executive, legislative and judicial arms of the Federal Government.

They spoke about work and letting go of “their baby”, Esosa mused on missing Meg’s cookies and Mrs. Shaw’s alert distraction. His admiration for her boss was evident, and Jen wondered about his.
“Mr. Adebayo does not give chances like Shaw does. He has the nasty habit of taking credit for what he did not do” Esosa said with minimal annoyance, shrugging his shoulders like it was a fact of life. Jen could not imagine facing the firing squad in the conference room this afternoon without Shaw continuously praising her initiative. She really did have a great boss.
The two strolled in easy company and Jen took this rare window of opportunity with Esosa in a talkative mood. She asked about his siblings, how many? Where were they? Parents? So he schooled where? How did he find that? Did he always want to work in telecommunications?
“Whoa Jen” Esosa put up his hands in surrender; he stared at her incredibly fascinated.
“I never took you as the curious type”
“Well that’s because you’re never in a talkative mood” Jen said as she kicked a stone with the toe of her shoe
“Ok u can pick one topic” Esosa said. “Only one”
“What are you trying to be, mysterious?” Jen raised an eyebrow
“No, I don’t want you to get bored of me” Esosa replied honestly. Jen looked at him and saw he was being serious. His honesty couldn’t have come at a worse time, a time where trust eluded her.

As they turned into the market square, Esosa seemed to lead the way, holding onto Jen’s elbow he carefully navigated her through the crowds and throng of people stopping in front of a large cement store that hung colorful pashminas. The bright colours hung from wire hangers on the ceilings, behind clear bags protecting them from the dust haze that hung around the market like a sheer orange scarf. The store owner sat on a three-legged wooden stool chewing sugar cane. He spat the chaff into a black polyester bag and beckoned them to enter.
He brandished the pashminas from their clear nylon prisons, dazzling Jen in every spectrum of colour. On realizing Jen had no clear idea of what she wanted he shifted into high sales pitch. The store owner had a silver tongue and talked her into the 70% pashmina/ 30% silk combination. Jen realized she had not thought her purchase through too late. Jen’s head began spinning as she watched the store owner climb up ladders into his attic to get her fuchsia pink, then candy pink, then baby pink. His patience was the stuff of Bibles, Esosa merely stood back and watched, ooh and gasping at the right time, he left Jen to model the scarves in front of a full length mirror; never once attempting to save her from herself as she bought lilac, then violet then indigo hues. After 20 mins of intense sales pitch Jen owned a pashmina scarf, wrap and shawl in every colour of the rainbow. Esosa made no attempt to pay her bill, he sensed Jen would have been outraged if he had tried to, this was her retail therapy. As the market closed down, the sea of people became easier to navigate and Jen was lost in conversation with Esosa, justifying her extravagant purchase.
“Its not a waste of money” she said
“Uh huh” Esosa answered distracted
“The wraps had an elegant sheen, draped nicely and were soft and light.” Jen pleaded
“Plus you just footed the man’s light bill for the next month” Esosa teased
Jen wrinkled her nose and hugged the bag containing the beautiful fabrics close to her chest ignoring the liposuction she had just performed to her bank balance. Jen thought about her weird shopping techniques, she could go months only paying for groceries and bills, then all of sudden she goes mental and “treats” herself.
Jen heard Esosa’s warning to watch where she was going too late and tripped on the Bagco supersack cement bag used to disguise the pothole and tripped badly spraining her ankle. Her foot settled awkwardly in the black heels she had not thought to change while waiting for the company car. Esosa gently helped Jen get to her feet, purchased brown slim sandals from a nearby stall, and kneeling on the dirt road, put them on her feet himself. Jen leaned on him, limping painfully till they got to a clearing where Esosa hailed a cab for the short journey to the hotel. The entirety of their journey Esosa continued chatting as if nothing had happened; mindless facts about the market to keep Jen minds off the stabbing pain in her now very swollen ankle.

As they reached the hotel, and limped into the elevator Esosa hit his floor number and Jen leaned against a mirrored wall panting through the pain.
“Do you know this is the first time I’ve been in an elevator in three months” Jen said
“I noticed” Esosa replied “I thought it was an exercise thing”
Jen scoffed at the word exercise. Esosa swiped his room key, settled Jen on his bed and dropped her shopping bags on the reading chair, he moved around the room as quickly and as noisily as he walked, drawers were shut and faucets were turned on, within minutes Jen’s foot was soaking in a bowl of hot water and dissolved menthol from the Vicks on his bedside table. He coached Jen on slowly rotating her ankle in the heat of the water and rubbed her back murmuring random things in the hope of distracting her. Jen didn’t know why but at that moment she thought of Kabir and what he might have done; he certainly would have insisted they take the company car; conversed fluently in Hausa with the store owner as opposed to the complete idiots Jen and Esosa made of themselves; ignored her protests and paid for the scarves tipping heavily, probably enough to send the store owner’s son to school; carried her back to the car; and now as she sat on this bed he would lay her head on his chest, allowing Jen to inhale all of him and whisper sweet nothings in her ear till she fell asleep.

Jen glanced back at Esosa as he paced the room worriedly staring at her ankle. Esosa didn’t believe in flowers and soft romantic gestures, was a practical guy. When she was cold, he gave her his shirt, she wanted to go shopping he walked with her, he did not attempt to take over the show, or offer to pay, he let her do her be. Jen had never met anyone so quietly confident, so sure of himself, his voice didn’t need to be the loudest in the room to get Esosa noticed. He answered her stupid questions about Abuja even agreeing to be her tour guide later on. Jen appreciated him more than ever.

Jen looked at Esosa properly, as a man and not a colleague for the first time since she’d met him. He was about four inches taller than she was- roughly her height in heels, his head sat on a thick neck and his shoulders squared out beneath, his muscles stood out against his casual white t-shirt and dark blue jeans, very large feet moved so fast Jen could barely make them out. His forehead was square, his ears stuck out a bit, his lips brown…. Jen searched Esosa’s features for something remarkable, and then she saw it as Esosa’s eyelashes fanned out from slightly drooped eyes. Jen had never seen lashes so long and thick, she watched them blink anxiously whenever they glanced her way. Esosa continued to pace, Jen knew it was hurting him that he couldn’t just fix her ankle and make it better
“Esosa…” Jen called to him. He was beginning to wear down the carpet. Esosa rushed to her side, sitting a few feet away from her.
“You promised to tell me everything I needed to know about one aspect of your life”
“So what will u like to know?” Esosa asked as he slowly lifted Jen’s foot from the now lukewarm water placing it gently on a white hotel towel. Pleased to note the swelling had gone down.
“Tell me about school” Jen said adjusting so she lay with her back against the bed headboard facing him.
“Which one?” Esosa asked hiding a smile
“Ah u drive a hard bargain” Jen thought for a bit, “University” she concluded
“I went to Uni in Ghana and studied Strategic Economics” Esosa began. Drying Jen’s foot gently, he slowly massaged aloe vera into her ankle, working his fingers around the sprain but enforcing enough pressure around her lower calves to increase the blood flow.
“Mmm that’s nice” Jen looked at her fair feet in his large calloused palms “If I have only have one option I’m not going to lead you on with questions”
“Fair enough” Esosa looked up and winked at her, “I loved Ghana, every moment I spent there was amazing. The classes were good and my lecturers loved me, my classmates not so much because I was a bit of a know-it-all plus I worked nights in a grocery store and never had time to socialize. They thought I was a snob”
Hi voice sounded far away as he continued “I tried at first, to be both- cool and smart but I did not have the luxury of laziness. My uncle paid my school fees and accommodation but I had to support my allowance. I realized early that I had to make a choice and I choose to be the geek. The only person that I really got along with was Dotse. Her dad owned the store and she helped out on weekends. We became really good friends.”
Esosa looked up and answered Jen’s unspoken question “Yes, we did end up dating, but that was towards the end of my degree. Looking back now it was a very bad idea; nobody ever told me about the perils of dating a friend, especially one whose father is your boss. She thinks I abandoned her, I left her hating me. I got a job offer- three actually- before I’d even graduated. Two from oil companies with offices situated in Ghana”
Jen sensed Esosa’s hesitation as he proceeded in a deep voice “I didn’t accept because I hate the oil industry and everything it stands for. When I was younger, my father worked in Mobil Benin, when the time came to give out his pension; they sent him from pillar to post. The little that came was inconsistent and invaluable to a household of 7 children. Also, I saw what greed had done to my people, farms were abandoned and menial jobs looked down upon; u were nobody if you did not work in oil and gas, I did not want to be a part of the madness. It didn’t matter how good the money was, the guilt that I had become part of the problem would stay with me always. Dotse couldn’t understand that, I returned home and applied instead for a job in telecommunications, and the rest they say is history.
“Your father..” Jen started
“That’s a story for another day” Esosa said patting Jen’s foot, you should rest now.
“I’m not sleepy” Jen protested.

Jen woke up in a dark hotel room with the moon straying through a gap in the cream curtains, the blue duvet had been pulled up to her shoulders and the pillow placed under her head. She twisted her sore foot and felt very little pain, sitting upright slowly and adjusting her vision Jen spied Esosa on the reading table illuminated only by the table lamp bent statue-still over paperwork.
“Mr. Adebayo?” she croaked
“He has a flaw in his master plan and I have to fix it” Esosa looked up smiling
“Dinner” they both said in unison.
Jen rolled off the bed and grabbing her shopping bags agreed to meet Esosa downstairs in 10minutes. Jen got to her room and happily changed out of her grey shift dress that she’d worn all day, a quick shower and she tugged on a strapless blue print maxi dress, slid her feet into the brown sandals Esosa bought her-her only flat shoes, ran a brush through her hair, Vaseline on her lips, grabbed her purse and a red pashmina in case it got chilly and was out the door in record time. Esosa nudged her when they met in the brightly lit hotel lobby and suggested the Lobby Bar for finger food and delicious cocktails or the Obudu Grill if she meant business.
“I mean business” was Jen’s response
As they sat down, at the table nearest the pool, Jen wondered at the half-empty restaurant and glancing at Esosa’s Swatch watch saw that it was quarter to eleven. Jen was about to remark on her hibernation when her mouth dropped open. Esosa turned around to see the reason for her comical look and glanced up at Kabir.
Kabir was still dressed in his work suit and his red neck tie hung in his left hand, he looked exhausted with large bags under his eyes but he greeted Esosa politely and asked Jen how her day had been. Jen nodded her head once and bent her head down staring intently at her menu. The men made small talk on the barrage of meetings they had planned, Jen’s ear pricked up when she heard Kabir invite himself to dinner. Esosa looked questioningly at Jen but Jen said nothing, Kabir made himself comfortable by pulling out a chair beside Jen just as the waiter arrived to take their orders. The night progressed awkwardly and it took Jen a moment to realize why. Kabir acted like Esosa was not even at the table; he occasionally tried to take her hand, asked her about his text messages and made countless offers for a moment of her time so they could talk privately. Jen felt very uncomfortable, plus her body had started to react to his close proximity and his scent was all up in her head. Jen tried to take his intense gaze away from her by including Esosa in the conversation every opportunity she got: Esosa feels the same way about the Christmas bonuses, Esosa said the same thing to me just yesterday, Esosa hates the idea of temps working with confidential files….and on and on it went
Jen told the story of her shopping spree and how she twisted her ankle, praising Esosa’s heroic deeds of getting her back to the hotel in one piece. Kabir turned then facing Esosa squarely for the first since their starters arrived
“Thank you” he said with deep gratitude
“You’re …..err…welcome” Esosa replied raising an eyebrow
“I know your boss, Adebayo” Kabir said
“Really?” Esosa chimed
“Yes, my team designed his Port-Harcourt house”
Esosa didn’t even know his boss had a house in Port but he responded with “Of course”
“Where did u study your Masters?” Kabir asked
“I don’t have a Masters” Esosa replied honestly
Kabir looked stunned and his face took a while to register
“Forgive my ignorance, I hear great things about your work, so I just assumed” Kabir apologized
“Where did you school? Perhaps we know the same people” Kabir tried again
“I schooled in Ghana” Esosa continued straight-faced
“Perhaps not” Kabir concluded

Jen wanted to floor to open up and swallow her and wished she could kick Kabir underneath the table so he could shut-up but feared hurting her foot again. After the tedious meal both her boys walked Jen to her hotel room as both men stood side by side staring at Jen, Kabir with intensity and Esosa with a blank expression Jen swore that she would laugh about this someday. “Thank you” she said to no-one in particular and disappeared behind the door without waiting for an answer.

6am Saturday morning room 376 Sheraton Hotel and Towers. Jen did not sleep too well partly because she’d slept so much earlier in Esosa’s room and partly because she could not help wondering what Esosa must think of her now after Kabir’s open declaration of interest at dinner. Why did he have to be there at that time? She was just getting to know Esosa and now Jen wasn’t sure anymore. Jen thought about room service and picked up her phone to dial when she heard a light knock at her door. Jen slowly got up and draping a robe over her nightgown, pulled the door open. Kabir. He stood in her doorway in sweat pants and a Cambridge University shirt. His black iPod peeked out from his left pocket and as usual he looked to good to be true.
“Im sorry to wake you Jennifer, but I just had to talk to you” he said quietly
“I don’t want you to come in” Jen answered
“I understand. I’ll be quick.” Kabir took a deep breath “Its becoming clear to me that you may never speak to me again and it breaks my heart.” Jennifer snorted.
“Yes, I am engaged to be married, I have been for a while and I thought I was happy. That was all before I met you.” Jennifer shifted uneasily at the door.
“You need to understand that I’ve known Halima all my life. I met her when I was in SS3, she is my best friend. Every emotion I’ve ever experienced has been with her and a result of her. Anger, jealousy, lust, happiness….she is all I know.” Kabir looked at Jen honestly and went on
“The day I met you, was the first time I was uninhibited, I felt this passion rise up and all the emotions turned into one overpowering force that I couldn’t and didn’t want to control. I feel like a new person with you and that night by the po-”
“Don’t” Jen stopped him
Kabir made to touch her but shoved his hands in his trousers at the last minute. “that day in HR, I…..
Jennifer could see stare waver, sense as he picked out the right words to say. She wished for frank honesty and said so
Kabir’s words came out in a rush “I went to Halima to see if I felt the same, if what I believed we shared would hold true. I wanted to test myself against her..
“Measure your love for her against your feelings for me” Jen interrupted
“What I feel for you Jen is new and unexplored, an all encompassing storm that I lose myself in. I cannot call it love, I have felt love and this is deeper, electric. Its magic and it feels right, I just want to be with you all the time.”
Kabir stopped and stared at Jen defeated. “The thought of living without you and the way you make me feel with just a look, melting at your touch, was unbearable, but I don’t want that to be the reason you forgive me. I know I have no right to ask for a second chance, you have been nothing but sincere about your feelings with me, but please trust your heart Jen and remember what it felt like to release yourself to what we have.”


You are still with Halima arent you? said Jen


Errr.....you have realise that its not so easy......we've been together for ages......family ties.......cultural expectattions........Jen got the message.
I hope you can understand the dilema am in, and with that Kabir leaned in slowly; afraid he would frighten Jen, and kissed her lightly on her cheek.
Kabir turned around and walked away, stopping once to glance back at Jen- the longing unmistakable in his eyes; leaning against the closed door jamb Jen sank to the carpet and stared into space.

Hours probably passed, Jen stood up tired. She had not cried as she thought she would, walking over to the telephone she ordered breakfast to be delivered to her room and went to shower. As Jen dressed in white linen trousers and a white silk top she glanced down at her now healed ankle thinking of Esosa. Walking up to her breakfast trolley she lifted the large fruit salad she had requested, grabbed two desert spoons and marched to Esosa’s room the floor below.

Esosa opened his door shirtless leaning wearily on the door jamb. His jeans were low on his waist and Jen stared at his defined six-pac with her mouth open.
“Wassup?” Esosa said rubbing the sleep from groggy eyes. Jennifer held out the large glass bowl containing fruit and watched Esosa’s face lit up.
“I bring good tidings of breakfast” Jen said happily
He opened the door widely and ushered her in. As Jen made herself comfortable on the bed, Esosa dug in, spooning chilled cubes of pineapple into his mouth he was silent for a while.
“You look upset” he said suddenly “Is it about last night?”
“Yes and no” Jen answered honestly “I am sorry about Kabir, he didn’t mean to be rude” Jen apologized
“He wasn’t. You were” Esosa stated
“What?” Jen stared at him “I spent the entire night making sure he did not succeed in excluding you from the conversation”
“No, you spent the entire night deeming me worthy of his attention,” Esosa set the empty bowl down and looked at Jen. “The only person that could exclude me from the conversation is you. I would only have left if you asked me to. Esosa did this? Esosa did that? You kept trying to prove yourself to him that you had done well.”
Jen stared with her mouth open “Kabir..’
“Kabir was nothing but sincere. If you did not want him there, you would have told him to leave when he asked to stay. I would have done the same in his position. He obviously likes you, and had no problem expressing that, but what does it matter, after all we are just friends right?” The question slid from his lips sadly. Jen remained quiet, examining the events of the night through Esosa’s eyes.
“Im so sorry” Jen groaned with her head in her hands “I never meant for it to appear that way, I guess I was just trying to protect you. You have come to mean a lot to me and I wanted that to be clear”
Esosa rose from the bed and pulled a white shirt from his wardrobe, doing up the buttons, he turned to face Jen
“I do not know the situation between you and him but my position is this. I care about you Jen, very deeply. You make me happy and optimistic and wishful. My only desire is to spend whatever time you privilege me to spend with you, making you happy. I wish I could be more eloquent in my choice of words, utter something romantic and dazzle you. I just hope u believe me when I say you are my everything; nothing else is.” Esosa finished with a sigh.
Jen looked at Esosa standing a few feet away from her, his emotions scribed clearly across his face. He looked so vulnerable and frightened, Jen wanted to touch the side of his face and soothe him.
Jen walked by Esosa and out of his room quietly, she did not feel like canvassing the Three Arms today. Jen spent the rest of Saturday in the hotel spa and when dawn broke she stole away to the airport with Akpan at the steering wheel, he could tell Jen had a lot on her mind and minded his business.

Jen sat in her window seat in the Business Class area of Virgin Nigeria; a gift from Shaw for a job well done on the Etisalat account. Jen barely noticed the comfortable seats and declined everything the air hostess offered, she was so confused. Esosa looked at her like she charmed his life; blessing everything around him. Jen chanced a glance at the height from the pedestal Esosa placed her on and got dizzy; she was healing when they met and barely paid him attention. Their progression had been natural and monitored, Jen had grown to respect and care for him greatly. Esosa understood Jen; her moods and quirks, tolerated her exasperating habits with a knowing smile and Jen loved not having to mind her manners because being with Esosa was effortless and as easy as breathing, he made it so refreshing.
Jen turned to the pirate novel in her lap and stared at the hero on the cover, the rogue with a silver tongue. That was her Kabir, he was romantic and his every word dripped with honey. He cared for her at first that Jen was certain of and now he says he loves her. Once upon a time hearing that would have made Jen weep with joy but Kabir hurt her, in the worst way possible; if what he did was so unforgivable why couldn’t she forget him. Tell him to leave her dinner table last night, what does that say? Jen had been telling her heart that she did not long for Kabir but what they shared; the feeling that fantasies and fables weaved their love. Her body tingled with his breath and her heart remembered him too vividly to let go. Esosa with time would own it, but as for now; it only ached for the magic and memory of Kabir.

Jen stared out her window as the plane flew over tightly packed houses and stacked yellow buses on bridges, they had arrived in Lagos. Jen was home, and she was still confused. Do you venture out for the certain or hang on to the fairytale? Do you go for Cash or Credit?




To be continued.......


By S.B

Thursday, 28 May 2009

MAN U vs Barcelona


Ok I do not need to relieve the horrific manslaughter that occured infront of millions of people last night. All I can say is never go and watch a Man U game with a bunch of HATERS in a freakin pub wearing a man u jersey, because it is a torturous and horrific experience!!

But can I just use this opportunity to express my UTTER DISLIKE FOR ARSENAL FANS! I mean seriously they are the most backbelle people on the planet. Since you guys have not been in the Uefa Finals since 2006(which you LOST to Barcelona as well), I suggest you all dispense with the wise-cracks. That being said, last nights match was a bit of a disaster, and it was over in about 5mins. We were out-played full-stop.


However, MAN-U is still the best team in the world. End of discussion.


P.s--what is up with these people killing themselves over football in African countries, I thought we had more pressing problems like hunger and disease?? Here is the story of a Man U fan that killed some Barcelona fans in Nigeria last night. I mean seriously???
Miss B
xoxo

Tuesday, 26 May 2009

POISON FIRE.......


As much as I love Nigeria, I also HATE that country so much sometimes. I lovee documentaries, and lately, there have been a number of AMAZING documentaries on Nigeria(e.g Channel 4 Child Witches, and Forced Marriage in Northern Nigeria), but they are usually by foreigners. Poison Fire is a documentary by a number of Nigerian enviromental activists from Bayelsa state about the problems of gas flaring in the Niger-Delta. The film has been submitted to various International documentary film festivals and shown in theatres in various countries around the world. It is bloody brilliant because like any good documentary, it makes my blood boil!! More information about the film at http://poisonfire.org/.

Here is the film:








Watching this I am shocked at how little I know, as a Nigerian, about the enviromental problems that has and continues to exist due to oil. It is a total disgrace. Now I understand why these young people are so angry.



The duty on rests on the company flaring the gas to put a stop to gas flaring so why are they waiting for the Nigerian government for funds? what about all the billions of money that they are making everyday?? I mean look at the alarming effects of thier activities on the people's daily lives?
The lawyer in the film says "The bottomline is that shell is above the law." This is disgracefull, especially for me as lawyer, that a High court in Nigeria can set a ruling, and they can completely ignore it and go on doing what they want. Intrestingly, there is currently a case in New York accusing Shell of taking part in the execution of Ken Saro Wiwa at http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/africa/8067218.stm; It seems like with everything in Nigeria, we have to abroad to get justice.

Regardless of the part that shell play, I believe it is up to the NIGERIAN GOVERNMENT TO DO SOMETHING! People keep blaming shell, but our government, and not Shell, is responsible for our people. It is up to Nigeria to have a judicial system where court judgements are not trampled upon by greedy multi-nationals, it is up to us to set standards that we enforce to the letter that the companies have to adhere to. At the end of the day, they need us more than we need them. Whatever standards we set, they have to adhere to or else they are free to leave, but we dont seem to realise we have the upper hand. Why are these atrocities not being committed in other oil-producing countries? It is because they have a government that ensures that thier people and thier interests are put FIRST! I have been to Dubai and seen the blessing that oil has been to them, why can't that be the same for us? Gosh am getting so worked up just typing this.

Goodluck Johnathan is the vice-president of Nigeria solely because he is from the Niger Delta, there is now a Ministry for the Niger-Delta with some millions of Naira in budget allocation, but have we seen any change? Of course not!
Like I always tell my Ghanian friends, I hope oil does not become the curse that draws them back from the progress they are steadily making, because black people never seem to do better with natural resources, see Sierra Leone with diamonds and Congo with Coltan. Damn Africans in general have issues!

˙·Ù •●♥LOVING UMAR♥●•Ù ·˙

Heyy people, you know I am here to bring you the latest in everything, and as one of passions is writing, I think I have found the NEXT BIG THING! Her name is Onyi Bi, and she is a blogger like me at http://onyibispeaks.blogspot.com/. Her blog features mostly stories and poetry that she effortly puts together like a jigsaw puzzle. Her style of writing sucks you in, and the blow by blow psycho analysis does all the reasoning for you. I dare you not to love it. Enjoy!!

˙·Ù •●♥LOVING UMAR♥●•Ù ·˙

TAYO

The blow that landed at the back of my head caught me by surprise. I had turned away from Umar, and besides I didn’t think that he would hit me… I didn’t expect it at all. When I turned back to accost him, another punch landed fully on my face breaking my nose so painfully that a bright light invaded my vision. I can swear that I heard a crunch and I saw a bright splash of blood spurt out from my nose as though in slow motion. For a while, I was lost in an upside down world, so I shook my head gently in order to clear it and I literally saw stars. I wasn’t too sure as to what I had done that was so wrong, so I opened my mouth to ask him, that was when the next punch landed, smack in the centre of my mouth, mashing my lips against my teeth.

I started to cry then, soft silent sobs with bitter tears running down my face and mixing with the blood. I saw him smile gleefully and so I asked him, “Umar? What’s going on?” Even as I asked, I saw him pull back his fist for another hit so I dodged it causing him to howl in fury and kick me in my shins. I gasped in pain and slipped down to my knees. “GET UP!!!” Umar roared in anger pulling me roughly to my feet and trapping me between the wall. He slapped me again and my head rocked backward hitting the wall hard and I could only see a bright light for a moment or two. “DID YOU REALLY THINK THAT YOU WOULD GET AWAY WITH THAT!!!! HOW SILLY!” At this point his voice begun to sound like it was coming from a distance and there was a ringing in my ears, my face felt like it was on someone else’s body. I don’t know what came over me, I just started screaming,; I screamed and I screamed and it seemed the more I screamed the angrier he became because Umar went into some kind of frenzy, beating me and shouting and kicking me as hard as he possibly could.Soon, however, I could scream no more, and my breath was coming out in hitched sobs. The edges of my vision begun to dim out and my head was whirling. By this time, Umar had stopped for a breather and was massaging his shoulder muscles while asking, “Why do you make me hit you! If you would just behave yourself, we would never be in this situation…”

His voice began to get dimmer and dimmer as another voice rang loudly in my ears, “WHAT DID YOU DO? WHY IS HE HITTING YOU?”I jumped a little at the sound of this voice, and I looked around, turning my head slowly and gently in order to see who was asking that question. Even as I was turning my head I knew that I had heard the voice in my head and that this voice, which sounded vaguely like my grandmother’s, was asking me questions that I would never ask myself.“Umar,” I croaked, “honey! Why?”Umar started as though I had struck him. “Are you asking me why? You are really asking me WHY?” he slapped me at this point and my already weakened body slid to the ground, I was shaking and tired, but not Umar! No! Umar was like a man possessed. He kept shouting at me, he ranted and he raved, and then he acted like he was going to hit me, causing me to cower into the wall as though I could pass through it. As he continued to rant, I started to cough. Deep boisterous sounds that rattled my whole body and put me in even more pain.

“You better be quiet! If you are not quiet I will…” Blood spurted out of my nose and my mouth and I continued to cough out blood.Tayo baby, how did you get to this stage? I heard a roaring sound in my ears and that drowned out all other sounds, but my new friend in my head persisted in asking, How did it get so bad? How can the man that you love beat you this badly? You do realize that f you try to tell anyone this they will call you a liar?


This beating is unrealistic! It’s almost like he tried to kill you! Tayo baby…I can’t remember anything else after this point, except that I seemed to fall into a quiet darkness. Now I think about it, that darkness was a relief. It meant that I wouldn’t have to face Umar’s beating and insults, it also meant that I wouldn’t be in pain anymore. I gladly let myself slip into this blessed and much needed darkness.
UMAR
I guess Tayo did not see the punch coming. I mean, how could she? After all she had turned away from me. I had planned to hit her, but I’m sure I wouldn’t have hit her so hard if she had not tried to walk away from me. I mean, I was still talking. So I lashed out a little harder than I had originally intended. When the blow landed, she staggered a little and turned around to face me with this look of utter surprise on her face. I was ready to leave off hitting her until I saw her lips move like she was about to question me, stunned by her audacity , I punched her again, this time full on in the face. As soon as I did that I regretted it, because her nose broke. How would I explain away a broken nose? I was just about to start apologizing when I noticed that she was fixing to say something. I did not have the words to tell how mad I was, so I hit her across the face again, targeting her mouth just to get the message across. I felt her teeth against my knuckles , grazing the skin of my knuckles, causing me to bleed a little, I saw blood rush out of a cut on her lips, and I saw her stagger.


All these observations were made in a very abstract manner as the submissive look on her face was beginning to excite me. she looked as though she realized that she had been very stupid. As though she knew that stupidity came with a price and that price had to be paid. In fact, she looked like the Tayo I was trying to cultivate. The quiet humble woman who would be the pride of any man, but would be exclusively mine.


It had been a long time since I had been chanced to remind Tayo who was in charge in this house. My wife had been on her best behaviour recently. She had done everything perfectly, there had been no cause to correct her and I was beginning to feel like a useless husband. I mean if there was nothing to correct, then she did not need me anymore. I know that it is not possible for such an imperfect person to become perfect all at once. So I decided to set up a small test to see if she had really become as perfect as she appeared. Boy, did it pay off!It was a simple test really. I can’t believe that … well actually I can believe it, after all Tayo is a stupid little thing.




That is why she needs my guidance and correction every once in a while. I pulled my hand back for another punch and struck her. Or at least I tried to strike her, I ended up hitting thin air. In my rage I struck her in the shins.I came back to myself a moment later when I heard her ask me what she had done wrong. The daft lady didn’t know what she had done wrong! I was flabbergasted! Of all the gall! I turned to look at her and discovered that she was on the floor. On her knees, yet not humbled. That thought flashed through my head and it shamed me. Was I so powerless that my wife no longer respected me? Had I lost so much of my masculinity that she felt she could question any of my acts? What was going on here. I was filled with so many different emotions, fear, shame and rage. Rage is good, focus on the rage, I told myself. “GET UP!” Even as I was shouting out the instruction, I was pulling her roughly to her feet and slamming her against the wall, when she was up against the wall, I struck her across her face sharply. I asked her if she had thought I would let her go free. At this point she begun to shriek, a high wordless wail that put me into a frenzy. I beat her thoroughly, throwing in some kicks for good measure. When she stopped screaming, she again had the temerity to ask why I was still hitting her. I realized then that beating her up was not enough to humble her, I had to remind her how worthless she was I had to let her know that she was lucky to be with her. So I started by asking her why she always made me ht her when she knew there was nothing I loved more than a quiet night in, right in the middle of my diatribe, the bitch began to cough! “SHUT UP!”


I roared, slapping her once more, by this time she was already on her knees once more and after the slap, she started to cough up blood. I paused with my hand poised for another slap. I waited for the blood to stop, but she kept on coughing up amazing amounts of blood. She slid to the ground in the fatal position and coughed twice. All was still and I got scared, if she died from my beating there would be no way to explain it.


I had beaten her up the way thieves would have beaten up a victim. Thieves! That gave me an idea. I ran upstairs, washed my face and hands and changed back into the clothes I wore to work that morning and went back downstairs to put her into the car.

THREE YEARS BEFORE

TAYO

My heart skipped an actual beat, then it slowed down for a second or two, then it started racing so fast I could barely catch a breath. The reason for the odd behaviour of my heart was standing, like a vision, right in front of me. He was the African version of Adonis, the Greek god. He was uncommonly tall, like six feet five inches, with a well-toned body and fantastic abs. I could see his abs because he had taken off his shirt in order to fix the vehicle he was hunkered over. If his body was beautiful, it was nothing compared to the face of this creature. His eyes were shaped like small almonds and their pupils were a deep brown, his nose was straight and pointed, his lips were slim and sensual and his skin was an even caramel hue.He stood up and stretched out and I marvelled at the way his muscles rippled in unison with all his stretching movements. Amina nudged me awake, “I’m glad you approve,” she said sarcastically, “although I’m not sure if approve isn’t an understatement. Heh! Heh!”“Very funny Mina”, I said rolling my eyes toward the sky.“Umar! Umar! I’m home!” Amina was positively shrieking at the top of her voice as she ran toward her elder brother. He jumped a little at the sound of her voice, turned around with a slight look of surprise on his face and then, when it finally dawned on him what was happening, he broke into a smile that did the impossible: made him even more perfect than he previously was. He swept his little sister into his arms and laughed joyously, “So how is our little degree holder doing?”“I’m fine! I’m fine!” came the laughing reply, “Oya put me down! Haba! People will think I am the elder child here. I came in to open the gate seeing as how my horn is bad, but I didn’t think you would be home”.“Oh? I’m on leave oh! I was supposed to hang out with Yaro and the other boys, but this car…” he kicked the wheel of the car in a burst of pure anger. I noticed a shadow of fear cross Mina’s face, but it was gone so quickly that I was not sure if it was ever there. Then she said with a smile, “Haba Umar! Geskiya, it’s not such a big deal. I mean I can see Mama’s car in the driveway, and even if she is going out, you can use mine now I’m home.” He smiled and said, “Minnie babe, but you are a life saver, geskiya, a real life saver!”“Whatever boy!”, even though I could see that she was blushing. I had watched this exchange between brother and sister intently, well, okay I had watched the brother intently because I was hoping that he would raise his eyes away from his sister long enough to notice me, but I was fortunate and unfortunate. Fortunate because his steady gaze never once left his tiny sister’s face so I could drink in his delicious looks to my satisfaction, unfortunate because the fact that he took no notice of me made me feel a little awkward and insecure. I began to fidget and wish I hadn’t come home with Mina.


Just at that moment I heard Mina say again, “Come meet my friend Tayo from school. Mum said she could rent the boys quarters during our service year.”She was pointing in my direction as she made this declaration and his gaze followed her finger. When he saw me he started, and then he smiled that fabulous smile of his, he strolled toward me and stuck out his hand, “I’m guessing you are the famous Tayo, right? Minnie mouse can’t stop talking about you, apparently you are Minnie’s role model. You know she is always saying, ‘Tayo this’ and “Tayo that’. We were beginning to wonder how she would survive after school.


Apparently she and my mom worked it out.”“H… hi … I guess”, I gave my greeting laughingly because he had somehow managed to put me at ease. Umar laughed with me and then stuck his hand out again, “it seems I have put you at a disadvantage. I know who you are but you don’t know who I am.” He smiled again, “Well, I…”“You’re Umar Tijani, Mina’s beloved elder brother, about whom I am sure I know every intimate detail, seeing as how she cannot shut her mouth up about how fabulous you are. And speaking of role models, I thought you were hers.” I pulled a wry face and Umar and Mina burst into delighted gales of laughter. “Well!”, Amina exclaimed, “You guys seem to have saved me the trouble of an introduction and you seem to be getting along. Phew!”



... To be continued........


By Onyi Bi




For the rest of the story, check out http://onyibispeaks.blogspot.com/

Monday, 25 May 2009

THE BEYONCE EXPERIENCE.......

Disclaimer--if you dont like Beyonce, you can stop reading now!!



Heyy people,
On saturday I went to see beyonce live in concert and it was FREAKING AMAZING! I am not the biggest beyonce fan but I have seen videos of her perfomances and we thought it would be a fun way to celebrate end of term, and boy was it worth it!! And as usual you know I'll describe it to y'all in excruciating detail!

Firstly we got GREAT seats, which was a big fear as we got the tickets just 4 days before, from one those sites that re-sell it, which meant we paid £10 more than the company price, but it was worth every penny!
Secondly, the crowd was very diverse, for e.g to our left were these gay couple(the guys were too fine ohhh, what a loss for womankind lol), and on our right was a father and his 2 sons(soo cute)! There was also a large number of couples but surprisingly very few black people.
Most importantly, the crowd was liveee, and they definately get you gingered even if you are not her biggest fan. I was at the Thisday show in London, and the people just sat there in silence like they were at a funeral. I dont know how far with Nigerians forming at shows oh. My friend went to the hip-hop awards in Abuja last week and said people just watched and clapped. How dull! When I'm at a show, I sing at the top of my voice, dance, jump, shout, whistle and wild out until I tire myself out! Luckily I went my crazzy friend Alero, and this babe took it to another level. This babe blocked my left ear with screams and she lost her voice the next day!!

The show was meant to start at 7.30 and it started at exactly 7.29 (chai I love British timing). The first act was this lady that looked and sounded like Amy Winehouse who was pretty decent. She sounded like a really good kareoke though, but was quirkey and fun! The second act was Shontelle, the Barbados born pop star with the songs 'T-shirt' and 'Roll it'. This lady seemed to be put there to show how amazing Beyonce is because she was so BORING! OMG she looked like she just woke up from sleep and was just walking from one end of the stage to the other tossing her very very long (*cough*horrible*cough) weave! I just wanted to pass her some of my red bull after she did her 'roll it' dance because she looked exhausted! We showed her love though cause we were super-hyper at this point.

Then there was a 10min break which got people really restless. Just as I was starting to get impatient, the set opened to reveal her all girl band, big mamas back-up singers and the sexyilicious dancers. She walked onto the stage with the song "Diva" and its safe to say people lost it, the screaming was too much! She is wayyy more beautiful and skinny in real life! But her voice sounds exactly like it does over her songs.





Now we came up with 3 theories to explain her brilliant performance:
1)Shes using some sort of jazz
2)She was high on some sort of illegal drugs
3)She has a stunt double

That is the only was I can explain it. It is inhumanly possible for one person to have this much energy. To sing alone is tiring, to dance alone is exhausting, to entertain and co-ordinate a one person show takes calculation, to keep changing outfits and switching up the tempo is complicated, but to do ALL FIVE things at the same time has to be either be a rare gift or due to one of my reasons above(and I am inclined to think its the latter lol). There was no break, and she only left the stage to change outfits.

She performed EVERY SINGLE SONG on her new album, although some were cut short. She also did her major songs from previous albums such as Baby boy, Check up on it, Upgrade you, Deja Vous, Irreplaceble(which she let the crowd sing completely, this is the point we lost our voice and my hand started hurting doing 'to the left to the left' lol). She then did the destiny child classics such as Survivor, Bug a boo, Say my name, Loose my breath, Independent women(which this guy in front of us was yelling the words to......yes very disturbing). It was 3 hours of pure unadultarted entertainment. She has a way of engaging the audience, and you can tell she does this all the time. Her energy is infectious to say the least, because she gives it 100%. The outfits, the sets, the timing, the choreography, the lighting, the story telling, the effects, all come together to give an ecstatic climax(no it is not an exaggeration!).

I would definately recommend it to anyone because its a guranteed good time. And for all Beyonce haters, no matter the issues you have with her, you can never deny that she gives it her all. I just wish that whatever I do in my life, I am as dedicated, hardworking and committed to it as she is!

Enjoy
Miss B xoxo














Heres are some of the pictures I took.......Enjoy!

Click to play this Smilebox slideshow: The Beyonce Experience
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Heres a video I took with my camera, if you ignore the inherent screaming, tone deaf singing, shaky hands and crazy waving, you can get the general idea.......lol

NIGERIAN DEMOCRACY ---TEN YEARS ON..........




Hurray!!!!!!!!!!! its being ten years since the Nigerian streets were freed from the dominance of the men in khakis. On may 29th our beloved country marks its tenth year since independence, but what can be said of the impacts of democracy on my beloved nation??

We have seen 1.5 presidents within this time with one man presiding for eight good years and then handing over to an ailing man. We have witnessed a supposedly successful recapitalisation of our local banks (that was until the stock market turned a cruel hand on them) and our insurance sector..hmmm not sooo… successful recapitalisation . A Nigerian became the most beautiful girl in the world and we have also seen two other Nigerians getting in the highly envied Forbes worlds wealthiest list. In the year 06/07 Nigeria boosted its highest rate of foreign investments due to the world banks declaration of Nigeria becoming an emerging market to watch. Real estate reached its all time high with skyscrapers and luxury flat complexes sprouting up in every corner of the Island. The New York Times did an article on the lavish lifestyles of Nigerians in contrast to the abject poverty within the same country. We hosted the greatest football team in my books…glory glory MAN UNITED!!!! And we are about to host the under seventeen world cup.

The national judiciary now flexes its muscles with a show of authority through election nullifications (as seen in Edo and Ondo state) and ensuring the rightful winners rule the states. Lagosians love for Fashola has not been shown to any other govenor, because he is doing an AMAZING job in lagos. And my personal favourite of all our successes the local content clause, which ensures that all multinationals(aka oil and gas companies) operating within Nigeria, who are awarded local contracts must employ at least 70% of the local citizens within the working teams .Which also led/encouraged to the PPF scholarship fund which grants tuition schlorships in engineering and specialised courses at reputable world class universities.

Democracy has allowed some great minds hold some key positions even though for a short while i.e Ngozi Okonkwo and Mummy re-branding extraordinaire Dora A.

The birth of the telecommunications sector is another democratic success, it has helped to bridge the gap between Nigeria and the west, remember the days when if u travelled abroad u could not call home to let them know you had arrived alright and had to write a letter instead..hmm seems so far back but its really not that far back.

Small and medium scale companies are being birthed everyday as long as the founders are willing to work at it they become successful(ok ok with a bit of egunje here and there also helps). Privatisation is the order of the day with the Nitel deal still on the table. Tourism has improved in our country with big thanks going to Rivers state and the calaber Christmas carnival.

We have hosted major artists from all across the globe, but more importantly, We have restructured our own local music industry and grown to LOVE it, even more than the foreign stuff! This has given hope to the youth that they too can be the next P-Square or D'banj!

These are just a few of the things that democracy has achieved over the years. I think the most important is that the sense of frea has been removed, with military rule, anyone can be killed at any time for toeing the line, speaking thier mind or fighting for change. Now people, the media and other countries can safely criticize and question the government and those in power without fear for thier life(to a certain extent). Democracy has brought with it hope to the Nigerian people. Although it has not been utilized to its maximum, at least it has started on the journey. But can you imagine any of the prior listed occurrences happening under Gen Sani Abacha. NOPE!!!! I don’t think so.
Many Nigerians equate the success of democracy to economic success, but you see democracy is only a political system and not a policy or programme its fundamental nature is that it provides people with choices. I mean a clear case of this are two prominent economies, India and China. India has been a democracy since 1947 but still remains one of the poorest countries albeit an highly staked emerging one, while china which still suffers from communism has become one of the most rapidly expanding even though their people remain without political rights as seen after the Sichuan earthquakes.

We spend so much time complaining about our country and never appreciate our few glory milestones. Yes we still have a really bad reputation and a long way to grow, but it’s a working progress. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Continuation and further development lies in our hands although I fear for tomorrow as the children of today are way more greedy, lazy, and inpatient than those of yesterday. There is more interest in what they can gain from Nigeria and not what they can add to it, with that sense of hope, hardwork and discipline loosing to the ideology of get rich quick or die trying! But lets not loose hope and stop dreaming cause as we have all learnt from the African Americans there is power in THE DREAM!!

PROUDLY NIGERIAN…………XOXO

Miss L.C


Friday, 22 May 2009

Nigerian Legends.....

I came across an article on BBC news listing a recent poll that was a done about who Nigerians consider living legends, and was slightly surprised at the results. Although the poll is not complete, the preliminary list looks this-

VANGUARD'S LIVING LEGENDS
*Chinua Achebe -Writer
*King Sunny Ade -Musician
*Enoch Adeboye -Pastor
*Dora Akunyili -Minister of Information
*Chief Emeka Anyaoku- Former Commonwealth Secretary General
*David Dafinone -Accountant
*Aliko Dangote -Industrialist
*Philip Emeagwali -Computer scientist
*Anthony Enahoro -Democracy activist
*Gani Fawehinmi -Human rights lawyer
*Yakubu Gowon -Former military head of state
*Nwankwo Kanu -Footballer
*Balarabe Musa -Politician
*Olusegun Obasanjo -Former president
*Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu -Biafran leader
*Anthony Okogie- Cardinal of Mt Carmel of Mostacciano
*Hakeem Olajuwon -Basketballer
*Wole Soyinka -Nobel Laureate
*Pat Utomi -Economist
*Akintola Williams -Accountant

Although this list is not according to populartiy, I agree with most of it, but not all. Firstly, what is Hakeem Olajuwon doing on that list? When was the last time that guy even went to Naija? Now I have nothing against him, he was a legend in his own right, but unlike other Nigerian sports men who have been recognised abroad, he has not been as forthright as he could have. Other sports men like John Fashanu and Kanu have been very prominent in helping youth with sports and other charitable work.






Kanu definately deserves to be on the list, and I consider him to be one of the greatest sportsmen to ever come out of Nigeria. His classic rags to riches story, his humbleness, and battle with heart problems have made him an icon all over the world. But it is inherent love for Nigeria that stands him out from all the other great Nigerian sportsmen.







Another person that I look up to, especially as a lawyer, is Gani Fawehinmi and he definately deserves to be here. As the one of the first lawyers in Nigeria to fight for human rights of people, he set the ball rolling for people like myself that have no interest in commercial and litigation in Nigeria which is where the focus has always been(because thats where the money is). He was also the first to produce Nigeria's weekly law reports amongst various other publications, and it is one of my dreams to work for his chambers!

Chinua Achebe, Wole Soyinka and King Sunny Ade are certainties for the arts.

Mrs Dora Akunyili is another Nigerian Legend, and embodies the saying that what a man can do, a determined woman can do much better! Her feature in Time magazine, also shows that her selfless work has gained her international recognition. Whenever I am arguing with people who believe that as Nigeria is so corrupt, since we cant beat them, we should join them, I use her as example of someone who is willing to show that sometimes, our goals are bigger than ourselves.

I would have preferred that religious leaders were not includes, as thiers is a calling, but if they must then no one is more deserving than Pastor Adeboye. Even though I am not a christain, I believe that he is a man of God, and greatly admire his humitly which is refreshing in this age of the armani and gucci wearing twenty sumthing year old pastors!

The bussiness men -Aliko Dangote is also another man no one can argue should not be here, and whom I greatly admire. This is because growing up in the North, we are not as entrepreneuring as those in the south. It gives a great sense of pride when one of the few northern bussinessmen turns out to be the most successfull in Nigeria, and become a billionaire in dollars, through hard work alone, with no (apparent) meddlings in any politics. It is also his humbleness, simplicity and media shyness that makes him that much more unique.

Akintola Williams was the first African to qualify as a chartered accountant. He founded in 1952, the first indigenous chartered accounting firm in Africa, Akintola Williams & Co in Lagos, which is the largest audit firm in Nigeria and so rightfully deserves to be here.

David Dafione and Philip Emeagwali I did not know well until now. But thanks to the power of the internet(shout out to Nigerianwiki.com lol) I feel quite ahamed as they are prominent people.

David Dafione is apparently an accountant, bussinessman and patriarch of an accounting family listed in the Guinness book of records as having the largest number of accountants in one family. He is also the owner of the Ceddi Plaza in Abuja and was one of the leaders of the movement for the creation of Delta State in the 1980s. I had vaguely heared of him, but not as a Legend.

Pat Uomi is a presidential aspirant that was the former adviser to various presidents, academic and lecturer. He is one of the best economists in Nigeria, with several publications under his belt. In any other country, a mind this sound would be advising us on financial issues, but then its Naija!

Philip Emeagwali is computer scientis/geologist who was one of two winners of the 1989 Gorddon ll Prize, for his use of the Connection Machine supercomputer to help analyze petroleum fields. He supposed to be a genuis and one of the few actual scientists that Nigeria has produced and definately deserves recognition for his work. I never heared of him, but we definately need more people interested in science in Niaj mennn, actually we just need more people interested in fields that do not bring the quickest money!!

Generally, I do not belive that ANY politicans alive should be classified a legend. If Nnamdi Azikwe, Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa or Samuel Akintola were alive then there would be no question. Obasanjo could have been classified as a legend in his earlier days but definately not recently.
However, Yakubu Gowon only makes the cut because he prevented the secession of Biafra during the Nigerian civil war. Which brings us to the question of why Emeka Ojukwu is classified as a legend? His actions/inactions as you may see it, lead to the death of thousands of people, in what has been referred to as genocide. Although I believe he started out with good intentions as a reaction to the mass slaughter of Igbos in the North, we are inevitably always judged by the consequences of our actions and not the intentions we originally had(see Mugabe for reference).

I will classify Anthony Enahoro a legend because my dad loves him, and so I am a bit biased. I remember him as the chairman of the National Democratic Coalition, NADECO; a pro-democracy group that fought against Abacha till his death.

Balarabe Musa I do not know much about, just that he was the former govenor of Kaduna and is a radical socialist, which is not commonplace in Nigerian politics.
He described Nigeria as "a drunken giant, still groping in the dark, that seems not able to find her bearing".
It is hard to get an opinion on him, because politicians in Nigeria are always viewed differently by people either supporting or against them.

Personally, I think some of the greatest Nigerians are dead! So heres my list of greatest dead Nigerians:

*Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa
*Nnamdi Azikwe
*Obafemi Awolowo
*Queen Amina of Zazzau
*Chief MKO Abiola
*Mrs Kudirat Abiola
*Sir Ahmadu Bello
*Samuel Ajai Crowder
*Fela Kuti
*Chief Bola Ige
*Ken Saro Wiwa
*Funsho Williams
*Funmilayo Ransome Kuti
*Tai Solarin
*Wahab Iyanda Folawiyo
*Dele Giwa
I know that people like Murtala Mohammed and Tunde Idiagbon should be on the list, but I tried to avoid military men as much as possible.

There are still a huge number of both recognised and unrecognised Nigerians who are doing great things, and are legends in thier own right.

So heres my list of greatest living Nigerians:
*Wole Soyinka
*Chinua Achebe
*Dora Akunyili
*Anthony Enahoro
*Kanu Nwankwo
*King Sunny Ade
*Gani Fawehinmi
*Aliko Dangote
*Mary Onyali
*Jay jay Okocha
*Ebenezer Obey
*Nuhu Ribadu
*Tunde Fashola
*Chinmamanda Adichie
*Eddie Iroh
*Ngozi Okonjo Iweala
*Micheal Adenuga
*Dele Momodu
*Jim Ovia
*Tony Elemelu
*Nduka Obaigbena
*Femi Otedola
*Dimeji Bankole
*Charles Soludo
*Adams Oshimole
and finally my dad, M.M Bolarinwa, one of the most hard working Nigerians alive!

What do you guys think of my list? Are there any that should/shouldnt be there and why??

Enjoy.
Miss B.
xoxo

Wednesday, 20 May 2009

Race Issues in Naija.....


I was reading the post on bella about the Top 30 young Nigerians done by Whats New Magazine. Now Sugerbelly (one of my fave blogs cause she says what am thinking but too politically correct to say!) made a comment about why an Indian lady and a mixed race babe should grace the cover of what is supposed to be celebrating young achieving Nigerians.
Sugerbelly said:
"First of all, for clarity’s sake if you’ve got one Nigerian parent, then yes, you are a national of two nations, Nigeria and whatever the other one might be.
Second, in a country of more than 140 million people, why should a foreigner be the one that ends up on the cover? At the very most she should be tucked away somewhere in the middle pages. We are Nigerians and we want to see other NIGERIANS on the cover of our magazines thank you very much.
Also, in case you don’t realise, the population of caucasoid people in Nigeria is insignificant when compared to the Nigerians. Therefore, they should also be insignificant as far as our media is concerned.

No, I am not being racist. Think about it. There are really no more than a handful of white and semi-white people in Nigeria. (yes, I know there are at least a few hundred but 1. most are in Nigeria on visas of some sort 2. they can never wield any kind of political power 3. they have no say in any of the affairs of the country.
Now, let’s be logical here. Magazines, advertisers, etc, all want to make money, and so they put whoever they think will sell on the cover. This is where the problem lies. LOGICALLY, a sensible magazine editor, advertising agent, blah blah blah would put an interesting, engaging, enterprising Nigerian with brilliant business acumen on the cover because LOGICALLY this would be attractive to most if not all Nigerians that fall within the range of this magazine’s target market.

Now observe the illogicality of this magazine cover. There is an (Indian?) on the cover along with a half-caste girl (who by the way gets a pass by virtue of her Nigerian DNA).
How many Indians are there in Nigeria?
The Indian population in Nigeria is far too small for it to influence Nigerian media in ANY way. A magazine editor with ANY amount of business sense would know this.
At least in America there is an argument for the use of minorities on magazine covers because those minorities have SIZEABLE, and SIGNIFICANT populations that are actually worth marketing to.
Tell me why should a magazine cater to the miniscule handful of Indians in Nigeria while excluding the rest of the population?
What rubbish! This is bloody Nigeria and it is far more important to see Nigerians on covers than any foreigner.
More importantly, why should an Indian get the cover of a Nigerian magazine sold in Nigeria when there are 29 Nigerians to pick from?Why should Nigerians be forced to relate to an Indian as a role model and celebrity?
I don’t know about you but I think What’s New magazine is trying to sell to 140 million people not 140.
No Indian magazine will EVER put a Nigerian on the cover. Hell will freeze over first and we’ll all go iceskating in the Sahara before that happens.
As far as I am concerned, Nigerians FIRST everyone else LAST. ALL countries put their nationals first and treat them better, why not us?Why do we always have to be the self-sacrificing idiots that offer ourselves up to be used as a footstool for anything that even so much as mouths the word ‘foreign’?
I want my baby cousin to grow up seeing successful, amazing NIGERIANS on magazines and on TV and admiring them and wanting to be like them.
I do not want my baby cousin to grow up wanting to be Indian and hating the fact that he is Nigerian because even though he lives in Nigeria and is surrounded by Nigerians that look just like him, the only celebrated people he ever sees in magazines are Indians and white, and Chinese and God knows what else.
Foreigners have been treated like gods in Nigeria for far too long. They are FOREIGNERS. Technically, they should have limited leeway compared to Nigerians but inexplicably it’s the other way around.

Maybe Nigerians should stop lying to ourselves that we are Christians and Muslims and just admit that we worship the great god ‘Non-Nigerian’.
If you do business in Nigeria, then you MUST make EVERY EFFORT to tailor your business to meet OUR needs and OUR wants, and you MUST ensure that you relate to the NIGERIAN experience.

Why should Nigerians spend their hard earned money on a magazine that won’t even deign to put them on the cover? Tell me. WHY SHOULD WE?
The way Nigerians come and defend these ridiculous behaviour you would think that Indian publications are awash with nothing but Nigerian faces.
Excuse me while I laugh - Kpehe Kpehe.

Blank. Fucking. Stare.

Take your black ass to India and see what happens to you.
Stop defending them. This magazine cover is wrong no matter how you look at it. What’s New is not an Indian magazine, it is a Nigerian magazine that operates in Nigeria. If they cannot represent Nigerians on their covers and give Nigerians their most important features and stories then they should shut down and get the fuck out of my country and move to damn India where they can put all the Indians they want on their covers.
After all if they put a Nigerian on Vogue India it would sell maybe one copy at a steep discount.
Please! Give me a damn break. Nigerians FIRST in Nigeria. Everyone else get in line behind the NIGERIANS."
Now what do you guys think? Dya think that we (Nigerians) have a mentality of putting foreigners and mixed race pple ahead of ourselves? I definately think we do, all you have to do is look at the past ten Miss Nigeria and MBGN winners and 9 of them are light skinned or mixed race. All the ads for beauty products and soaps always feature mixed race people as well.
But at the same time, there have been loads of Naija mags with Nigerians on the cover, so does 1 magazine really make a difference? I personally dont think it matters that much but I see how it can be offensive to some people, what d'ya guys think? Leave your comments and let me know what you think!
Miss B
xoxo
P.s-shoutout to Sugerbelly for keeping blogville controversial!!

Sunday, 17 May 2009

The Next Big Thing........Freida Pinto

Its funny how one moment can change your whole life. In Freida Pinto's case it was the moment she got the role to star in the Academy award winnimg movie Slumdog Millionaire(which is one of the best movies I have seen in a long time). Not only was this her debut acting role, but it also bagged her the Screen Actors Guild Award for Outstanding Performance by a Cast in a Motion Picture, and a BAFTA nomination for Best Actress in a Supporting Role! Before this she had been modelling for t.v ads! I guess God's time is the best. There has been a bit of rave about her in Hollywood, and she is set to star in Woody Allen's new movie(maybe she'll be he's next muse-so he can leave Scarlett Johanson to do other things!), and is set to be the new face of L'oreal and Estee Lauder.






But the reason I love her is cause I think shes got a GREAT sense of STYLE! I mean this babe always looks on point at every carpet event she attends, and holds her own against the A-listas who have been doing this forever.




Ok it helps that she is smoking hott!








Her cover on vogue is stunning, showing how versatile she is, but you cannot question her red carpet style with outfit like these......



She loves her floor lenght gowns


I loveee this Chanel chic

D statement belts


Lovee the metallics....








Her little black dresses...



Notice her SEXY heels in every one of these pics, plus her hair and simple make-up make her a true hollywood diva in the making.
But a diva would not be complete without a love-interest, she is rumoured to be dating her Slumdog Millionaire co-star Dave Patel, and I think they would make a cutee couple.....

Enjoy
Miss B.....xoxo