A Piece for your day(Short Stories, Poetry et al)

Monday, 6 August 2018

Life is Script

Life is Script...is it?

Coming from a small city, I recall my first trip to Oshodi Lagos.
Alighting from the bus, I was frozen stiff seeing thousands of people and vehicles moving in every direction like bees at such speed.
Hundreds on the pedestrian bridges, hundred crossing the roads,hundreds on the rail lines, hundreds fighting for a few bus seat in moving buses, twice more wrestling to hang off the doors, hundreds preaching and selling medicines, hundreds hawking and hundreds buying, the last hundreds reaching into other people's bags and pockets.


I only managed to flash into consciousness by the impact of a person bumping into me, then another and another. Then came fear, every where was spinning, my leg felt numb and I was about to fall. I found myself faced in a different direction.
I'd lost my sense of direction, and I became scared of being trampled like a pea on the floor.

I took my backpack of my back and embraced it. I know what the place is about.

Stood still, shot my eyes, mumble my mantra a few times and opened my eyes.
The images stabilised, my feet became solid on the ground. I looked up, blind to obstacles and distraction, found my way.
I found my confidence and matched forward to pick my next bus.



Lately, it's all motion these days, swift random motion; the city, the lights, the screens, the people, I, my thoughts, my worries, my career, my start-ups, my patience, even my temper.

Though I try to guide these dots, all I do is try. They tread like Shoaling and schooling fishes in the vast grey.
Like day, there are patterns, but hard to trace, and harder to predict.

I held still, shot my eyes, mumble my mantra a few times and opened my eyes.
The images didn't stabilise, my feet no longer feel so strong on the ground. I look up, try to blind the obstacles and distraction, but felt adrift.
I still have my confidence though, and I will match forward in any direction my Chi points, to pick my next bus.

And they say "life is a script"? Well I'd say the script is dynamic, so just keep modifying your algorithms till you hit it.

#motivationmonday #Nostopping #Push #blackboythinking #script #livelife #life #StrayingThoughts#Lagos

Tuesday, 16 January 2018

NNENNA


I've most desired a beautiful lady with tall daring ambitions and soaring dreams to call my own. 
This steaming thought appears to have mapped itself on my bedroom ceiling.
Everyday as I retire to my bed in my favorite positions, awaiting the sandman to shut my eyes and send me to shangri-la, these thoughts would rain down all over my face. 
I stay awake, wide awake, eyes glued to the little cracks in the white, the little cracks in these thoughts. 
Rather than count sheep, I count scenes in this none ending hallucination.


On my way home from an assignment, I thought I'd gone crazy when I looked out the window and saw her. 
NNENNA was brilliant, classy and elegant, and she soared the skies with proud arrogant beauty.
She's a high flier, and she sailed the winds and mingled with the clouds. 
Even the sun blushed and hide it's smile behind the clouds. 
I'd love her, but her heart doesn't pump blood so I dared not.
And yes I glided across the skies with her(in her), she was kind enough to carry me along. 
Her servants were nice too, their smiles were like tattoos on their faces.
I admired one of them too, but I do not know what they dream of at night, I couldn't see beyond their beaming glee. 
I didn't really think I'd have the chance to ask. 
Thus I kept my eyes on NNENNA, her dreams I can see.





@flyairpeace 🖒 #igboamaka #Blackboythinking #AfricanPoetry

Monday, 15 January 2018

Eko Skies



Lagos...


I never really gazed into the skies just to admire the stars, the moon in its full glory, or the bite left of it.
I can't quite remember the year I last watched the White muffins race, or try to unravel the numerous figures which emerge from it. 
Growing up clouds were the only actions figures and comic books I ever had.



Although in my daily trips, before my windshield, the stars fade and the sun rise. Lucky also to experience the moon excuse the sun to welcome the night. It never really bothered me if the stars were out or the moon was full, for Tail lights and brake lights twinkle everywhere in the distance, and headlamps and fog lights shine brighter than the moon.

Behold the sunrise and sunset in the city.

When ever I look up into the sky, all I think about is the weather, just the weather. Hoping for the perfect weather to travail the routinely treacherous traffic maze.


The Lagos celestial canopy is a jewel under the surface.

#Dream #life #Poetry #StrayingThoughts #Lagos #Ekolife #Lagoscity #StrayingThoughts #AfricanPoetry

Friday, 4 March 2016

About Last Night

Last Night


This is not Poetry
The Nights aren't silent any more
Bars across the windows and locks on the doors.
There you must stay till morning comes.


This is not Poetry
They say the stars shine at night,
Through the window grid my neighbour-
blinds me with his security lights

This is not Poetry
The Nights are not silent any more
Buzzing insects and grinding engines,
Dogs hawling and OPC banging per hour
Evil agents prowl: our gates in chains

This is not Poetry
Roof, more roofs shield my skies
What does the moon look like...I forgot.
Did the stars come out tonight?

This is not Poetry
The night is hot and my neighbor's baby cries
Their generators just like mine have run out of petrol
Poor little thing, if only NEPA could hear

This is not poetry
The air smells of fume, and the atmosphere smell of fear
The streets are littered with rodents so the bats and cats are on patrol

This is not poetry
This is me telling you why I'm up by 2 AM typing this.
The night alone on my bed taste the least, solitary
I've lost the taste to sleep-there is no more I can do but this...

This is not Poetry, this is Lamentation
The Night has lost her beauty.


‪#‎blackboythinking‬ #Poetry #AfricanProse #LastNight #AboutLastNight #NightPoem #Africanliterature 

THE LEADER


(The Leader and The Ruler)


YES!!!! I am back on air. My humble apologies to everyone who I've disappointed by my long absence. I enjoyed a whooping 2,000+ visits daily and I was encouraged to continue in my little ministry lol! but two things pulled me back; a certain virus attacked my Laptop, and I lost all my data, and my mail box was also hijacked and compromised, thus I lost access to my Blog. weird!


I hope I can manage to woo you all back. I can only regret not sharing my timely views about events and happenings.

A lot happened in my absence, trucks flying off bridges, the DasukiGate, Saraki and CCT, Ben Bruce and his Campaigns, the Naira Nose dive, the President in the skies, 5000 for unemployed youth, the heat, Boko Haram on the run, and the thumping trumping Donald Trump and the US election. loads


Coming home, everyone is complaining about leadership as our Nigeria's primary problem. today I just want to talk about my view of leadership.


Everyone can be a leader, but often leadership is mistaken for ‘ruler’ship.


A leader is like the lead coach in a rollercoaster. There is cohesion and harmony as they trade through the ups and downs of the track’s whirly stunts and maneuvers to the agreed destination. They are a Team and he carries everyone along. If the track presents challenges, the stick together, change pace and/or unanimously agree on the next best route to follow.

The Leader Characteristically carries all along.


A ruler ‘drivers’ his subordinates to a goal; though still a leader, there is no true harmony, they Lead coach is either too fast or too slow for some. The roller coaster ride appears bumpy, with sudden breaks, drags, jerks, and joint stress. Some coaches may most likely disjoint from the parent stretch, going rouge, carrying the units behind them along. A few just follow. If the track is not well oiled, it gets heated up by friction and soon becomes too hot for some to ride on, thus they too break away. 

The ruler characteristically carries along the close and favoured few, they rest are either lost or are left behind, scattered.



A leader casts his shadow on his/her subordinates to prevent the sun from scorching them, or blinding their sights (their vision). The true leaders throw their weight forward to speed up the course and through barriers and external oppositions, while he leans his mass backwards to guide/guard the flock, shielding them from antagonism. 

A true leader is more of a listener than a speaker


Rulers eclipse the sun and casts darkness on the subjects, shining only his light on the subordinates, if any. He throws his weight around as it pleases him, and swings the parch that 'tail's towards opposition as shield to protect himself. He crushes any form of resistance within his great mass, and oppresses and suppresses the rest. 

A ruler loves his own voice, and would rather speaks and speaks again. your own opinions don't count for much.


The question for today is, Are u are Leader or a ruler? how do we head in that little unit we find under our control and power? As a father, mother, elder in the community, elder at home, brother/sister, senior in school, religious leader, CEO, Director, Manager, unite head, Team Lead, Elected office holders etc.


Nigerian, which do you consider President Buhari, A Leader, A Ruler or just a Figure head?
#Leashership #AfricanLeadership #Blackboythinking #Buhari #DasukiGate #PresidentInTheSkies #Change

Wednesday, 19 August 2015

Thought Flake

I like knowing things I never knew. I like seeing things I'v never seen before.
I love to go to places I'd never gone to before. I love thinking of things I've never thought about.
I'd enjoy peering into the future, but I sit back every now and then to steer at my past.
I would like to pass through some moments that I have passed through before.
I love moments that comes once and never again.
I like to meet people I thought never again to meet, it makes the moment a glorious one to savour.


I would like to step back into time, even the hour just past.
I hope to see the future if only a second of it, to change a phrase or a word in a sentence; it's good enough for a life time.
I wish to go back in time to revisit errors of the past; one has made enough.
Life isn't a choice, living is.
Life is subtle, we know not what it purports.
Though we live hoping someday to understand life, we can never be old enough to know enough or understand it well enough.
If life is a book, every hour would be a page, a fresh start, a new chance to turn things around for good or scribble in our doom.

Alas! A new hour and I flip a new page to put down another ink-less memory.
Will it fade away like smoke, just like the page before?
I hope it's good enough to last a few more days, so that people watching can breath these into their lungs and live.
I have something to dream about, Something to live for. It is My Dreams.
I dream because I live, and I live because I dream.
When i stay under the covers dreaming, my pages don't stay blank; other people will write on it. -The same goes to you


#Dream #life #Poetry #StrayingThoughts #AfricanPoetry

Saturday, 15 August 2015

CAT AND DOG

I've heard different versions of the cat and dog story, so I decided to write one of my own


Many many years ago, the cat and the dog existed as best of friends. They live together as good neighbours and did everything together. When they went hunting they both combined each other’s abilities to the quest; the cat’s skills and speed with the dog’s strength and aggression to bring down their pray. When they hunted for fruits, the cat would climb the tree and toss the fruits down. When it was time to fight, the dog will stand in for him and scare their foes away with his loud howl and fierce barks. But when it came to being clever, the cat was thought to be miles ahead of the dog.
One day man came into the kingdom and overthrew the Lion as king. He declared a hunting competition among all the carnivores in the kingdom. Any animal that returns with the biggest game will win a chance to live under his care as a friend, and to feed from his cooking pot. Never will he have to hunt for food or be hunted by man again.
At midnight, every animal set out in search of wild deer and buffaloes. As expected, all the large pray went into hiding, making the hunt a bit more difficult. The cat suggested to the dog that they should go to the lake in the village nearby to hunt the animals that come early to drink off it.

Before sunrise, they were at the lake. They lay there in ambush, waiting patiently. Shortly, the animals came one after the other in their herd to drink from it. Right after the monkeys, the baboons, the antelopes, even hyenas, and then the herd of deer came to the lake to drink.
The dog was losing patience. He wanted to jump out from hiding and attack right away. He couldn’t wait any longer, he could already picture himself lying on the floor by the feet of man, getting a back rob and feasting on his meal.

The wait was endless.

The pack of deer were quick to scramble off, scared away by a stampede of buffalos rushing towards the lake. When the new arrivals settled, they took their time to bath and drink from the water. The sight was glorious, the hefty beasts threw their pounds around so gracefully; massive trunks, dark polished horns and hoofs. The patient gamers nodded in agreement. The leader of the herd who was the largest stayed aside monitoring the terrain vigilantly, waiting to alert the others when danger approached. The beast was monstrous, puffing what looked like steam from it's nostrils. He was their pick.
The opportunity had presented itself, but bringing down such mass pf muscle, flesh and fibre will prove to be a herculean task. Instantly the cat thought out a brilliant plan to put down the large beast. They tied one end of a strong rope to the trunk of a tree across the path that led to the stream, and covered it in leaves. The dog sneaked to the opposite end of the stream, from there, he howled like a wolf from behind the bushes. The terrified pack followed their leader and swiftly raced towards the path way. As the leader approached the path, the cat pulled the rope, tripping it, and the unsuspecting herd stamped their leader to death.
The task has been done but only one could have a place in the man's home. The cat thought this through and knew it would be impossible to negotiate with the dog, he scowled and sighed as he worked towards the catch. An idea came to his thought, and an evil grin masked his face. Twisting his whiskers he chuckled and matched on.
The dog was elated, wagging hard and panting rapidly and hopping round the carcass. The cat walked up to him beamed a smile and offered him a warm hug, congratulating him for a job well done.
The cat suggested a meal before they set out back home. They caught some fishes, and the cat being the better cook volunteered to prepare their meal. The conning cat sent the dog away in search of leaves. When the dog traded out of sight, the cat proceeded with his evil plot. He stuffed one of the fishes with poison leaves that would make the dog sleep. The dog with his incredible sense of smell caught a scent of this. He sneaked closer and watched.
The dog returned soon after with the leaves, but remained mute about what he observed. After the meal the dog dropped and pretended to be glued within the depths of sleep. The cat picked up the loose end of the rope bound to the corpse and started dragging the heavy trophy to the village. At about a hundred yam length ahead, the dog sprung to its limbs and stalked after. He had pretended to have eaten the poisoned fish but hid some into the unsuspecting cat’s portion.
At a sight of the village through the greens, the weary cat slumped to earth, panting and gasping for breath. Soon he was in deep slumber. While having his catnap, the dog carefully lifted their game and set out.
When the cat got out of his snooze, he saw the dog in the distance stumping gallantly with the carcass.  The cat ran like never before, chasing after the Dog. He couldn’t make it, the dog had set the carcass at the feet of man, and assumed a valiant pose.
The cat arrived enraged and cried his plea, claiming a foul play, as he narrated their ordeal. All fell on deaf ears.

Man duly kept his words and made the dog his best friend. For the cat's cleverness and wonderful hunting skill, he rewarded by allowing it stay around the house, promising to accept the clever creature, if it impressed him well enough.
The rivalry lingered on generations upon generations, things never remained the same, they have till today been in constant competing. While the dog remained obedient and never left sight of its master, it also used his aggression to fight and scare enemies away from man's territory. The cat tried his best to be neat and of best behaviour, pretending to be calm and quite at all time, diligently hunting rodents in the house and scaring reptiles away.
The dog guards his rank jealously, and whenever they crossed each other's path, a chase begins, and a fight is eminent. No one knows it they can never forgive each other or trust each other again.

It continuous. 

Tuesday, 11 August 2015

How your Ancestors programmed your DNA

Your geographical roots affect your thought pattern

After my post on Japan’s ‘Too many Virgins’ problem, a few friends contacted me via phone calls and other social media, expressing displeasure at my being critical of the “blackman” in my introductory paragraph of the article [http://blackboythinking.blogspot.com/2015/07/japans-too-many-virgins-problem.html]. They frowned about what they perceive as my constant deprave of Africa. I think everyone expresses his/or her freedom in thoughts, and a writer who is one who puts thoughts down in ink would be robbed of freedom if restriction and boundaries are placed. The earlier we as African in Africa comes to terms with the realities surrounding us, the quicker we can evolve from what we are and who we are, to what and who we want to be. If we hide our problems, we will be hidden by them. These are sad realities.
I want to take advantage of this opportunity to push out a series of thoughts on my Philosophy on how our ‘geographical roots affect our thought pattern’.  
I will like to state clearly, I’m neither a certified Philosopher, nor a sociologist, historian nor anything psycho-special. I'm just a #blackboythinking



Necessity is the mother of all inventions. 

If you need timber, you must invent something to fell the tree. if you need to join two planks, you need to invent a nail and then the hammer. We agree. Let me take you on a shallow tour of man’s journey through history, with respect to his geographical location and environment.

Let us look at some hypothetical scenarios that comprise my series. 

                                                                 Series One(Africa)

I will start with my roots, Igbo Land.

Scenario 1 (Africa-Nigeria-Southeast-Ndi Igbo):
Let us assume Mazi Obi fell from the skies and landed on Igbo soils. He studies the vegetation, the land scape, the weather and the seasons and tries to adapt himself to his new home. His major challenges are; cloths to cover his body, food to eat, and medical supplies, a roof to shield him from the elements, and tools.

Clothing: The weather isn’t too bad to a decent cover from animal hides, and simple weaves from special fiber and cotton will do. Clothed.
Next stop, where to live.

Housing: The soil is rich and bathed in greens, the sun shines daily and the rains are frequent but not too heavy. From mud and raffia from the palm rich vegetation he casts his cylindrical huts, and from straws he roofs his house.  When the storms come the tress are there to break the wind, and the circular hut streamlines the wind, so he has nothing more to worry about.

Tools: To complete his hut, hunt, defend himself, and to cultivate the lands, he needs tools, good tools. From wood to bones he started Iron fabrication (Iron was not brought to Africa by anyone Western or Asian it was discovered by Africans in Africa, ask UNESCO [http://portal.unesco.org/en/ev.php-URL_ID=3432&URL_DO=DO_TOPIC&URL_SECTION=201.html]. From iron he fashioned the suitable tools for his activities. Tools like blades to sharpen and cut through things, Machete, Cutlass, Hoes, Spears and other specialized tools to work the lands and defend his territory.
Yes fire wasn’t handed down to him by “GOD” but let’s skip that particular detail.

Food: The land is big and only he can’t work the earth. He marries many wives (birth of polygamy) who would bear him many sons. Now he has a troop to work the vast farm lands.
He builds barns for his tubers, and silos for his grains, and hanging gills for smoking his seafood and meat. A trial and error and his medical needs are all sorted out.

Unchallenged by nature, Mazi Obi and his household for would indulge, feast and take chieftaincy titles, practice religion and set up traditional ways of doing things, haven conquered all the major challenges fate threw at him. Living the trouble free life, he measures success by farm yield and family size. This lifestyle over the centuries embedded into the DNA of the Igbo man, thus the his/her affinity for growing affluence. He can travel the ends of the earth to afford himself the luxury he craves. An Ijebu man is in some way of the same mould.


Senerio 2 will cover the Middle-belt and Northern Nigeria, and gradually we drift into Europe and Asia in further series. Hang on…

#Iron #TheRoot #Origin #BlackAndProud #Acestory  #Invention #UbahIkechukwuAnthony #Necessity #MotherOfInvetions  

Monday, 10 August 2015

UKE

 UKE
(GODS AND MEN)
(Original folklore by Ubah Ikechukwu Anthony)
There is a belief that when Deities are forgotten, they cease to exist; when rituals are no longer offered in their name, and their names are not mentioned in reverence, they are rendered powerless. The gods know this, and all mortals do too.  No mortal dared them for the fear of incurring their wrath. The gods are also thought to put hardship upon their subject to punish them, or just to draw them closer to them in times of crisis, just to empower themselves.

When the people of Amandi returned from battle as the vanquished, the Uke became unpopular among the villagers. The Amadioha had given Omimi victory over them and so, they lost their farm lands to them and their blood wet the thirsty earth. This was contrary to the prophecies of the oracle of the Uke shrine. He was mobbed and maimed the days after their defeat, leading to his death a few moons later. On that day the shrine of Uke was desecrated, his statuette along with his sacred stool and sacrifice bowel, were razed and the shrine brought down to ashes on the foot of the mighty twisted Iroko where it housed.
Seasons came and went, few and fewer people made mention of Uke or offered sacrifice. Majority of the villagers pledged their faith to Amadioha, some worshiped their clan Chi, and a few lived without the gods.

After two decades, the streams that bound Amandi from Ikpa village dried up, the river banks kept pushing backwards and the land it bore was littered with fish bone and scales. The trees turned yellow and the land was bedded with brown leaves and dry grass. The member of every household who could still stand remained indoors to tend to their sick and hungry. The clouds where brown and the empty village square and pathways were patrolled by dry leaves being swept around by the dry unending hamartan winds which sway and whistled round the near-ghost-town. It had been over 16 moons since water from the heavens touched the ground. Their barns had long gone empty, and in their silos housed only grain dusts and dead weevils. Their cows were so lean and looked like blankets paced on wooden frames, dropping dead on the vast fields of flaked earth, one after the other under the scotching sun.
The people of Omimi had angered Amadioha. Being the most feared and revered god in the kingdoms near and far, it plagued the entire kingdom under its guidance with the famine to command more respect and reverence. The Amandi people were unprepared; they had no oracle or deity to warn them of the approaching shadow. Among the neighboring kingdoms, they were hit the most by the famine

On eke, the main market day, a loud cry from the Igwe’s palace greeted the morning sun. His son gave up his ghost to the night. This wasn’t the first death in the palace or in the kingdom, the youths died prematurely in the year, but it was the last straw that broke the camel’s back. The Igwe sent out the town crier to summon all the elders to his palace.
“My people, we cannot lay down on our mats and wait on death to take our spirits to our ancestor, we need solutions now. As you all know the hare to my thrown is no more, your linage and mine will gradually be whipped out of the surface if we don’t put our heads together”.  The Igwe said in a teary tone to the assembly of elders and ndi ichie(Chiefs)
After series of dialogue and arguments, Ichie Okogwue who was the oldest among them rose up and spoke.
“Igwe and my fellow elders I greet you all, we have wasted a lot of time running around in circles. As we speak, our neighbours and their Ndi Ichie have consulted their oracle and offered sacrifices to appease the gods. We at Amandi, we have no knowledge of the root cause of our problems. Some of us have travel far and wide in search for solutions and have come back with different tales. We have no supreme deity of our own and no Oracles to ascertain from the gods what we are being punished for. Some have offered series of sacrifices  to their chi but to no avail. The only thing we know is this, Amadioha has failed us. Never have we faced such perils during the era of Uke and his priests.  I say let us go back to Uke and beg for forgiveness, it is our only hope”. Iche Okogbue ended stamping his staff on the dry floor before sitting.
After a moment of pitch silence, everyone agreed with him and went ahead with the plan. The Igwe sent words over to the son of old Uke high priest, asking him to consult Uke and brings words to the palace.
After three market days, the village square was once again reoccupied by humans, as the entire village came together for the first time in so many moons to hear the words from the mouth piece of Uke and the price to be paid. Joy filled the kingdom when the gods finally spoke. Uke had offered to bring their rains back and cure their sick.
Yes, the news was good indeed, the gods had forgiven them, and promised rains before the next market day.
On the next nkwo market day, the sky bleached, and the rains came as was promised. For the next four days, it rained none stop. The rivers reclaimed their banks, and the streams reappeared. In two market days, the fields turned green again, and crops began to grow.
The Uke demanded the every family came to the shrine to pay respect, make requests and pledge a sacrifice ahead of harvest season.
Every household in the village did as they were told. They all visited the shrine, made chants and incantations in honour and praise to Uke, after which they made personal requests and promised various sacrifices in return to the anticipated favours.
Adindu and his house wife visited the shrine as did the rest, they were slaves and so the fertility of the land meant little to them, they lived off the wages the earned from the Igwe’s palace. They asked Uke to grant them their freedom, a land of their own to build their hut and farm on. He promised to offer a jar of wine, two white hens and ten tubers of yam the shrine of Uke.
Few moons on, one of the Igwe’s wives was delivered of an heir. Out of joy, the Igwe rewarded a few of his hardworking slaves with their freedom, a land to live on and a piece farm on, with a handful of cowries. With the little money Adindu had, he built his hut and farmed the land. These were all he ever desired. The next thing on his mind was building on what he had. His desires had grown from humble to noble. He wanted to be an Nze(a title for wealthy and respectable man) and needed all the money he could get.
The harvest was rich, the river was crowded with life and the village flourished. It was time for their deity to have its reward. Most of the villagers kept to their word and offered their thanksgiving to the Uke.  Some refused to fulfil their promise to their god despite series of reminders. Adindu looked down on the treats made and focus on buying more seedlings for his yam farm with the proceeds of his rich harvest and the loan he acquired. Even his wife’s warnings crashed against the rocks.

The harvest season is here again and early harvesters have commenced, drums rolling in celebrations for rich yield across all village. Anxious Adindu anticipates a bountiful a huge yield too so he hired labourers, thus hiring extra hands to bring in the rich yield. Upon arriving his wife and the dozen men would only watch, as nothing could hold him back from rolling his unclad body on the dusty, thorn littered floor of his farm. The grains he grew were gone, roaming feathers left behind tells the tale of the feast which his farm hosted nights before. Large beetles have made homes out of every tuber of yam and cassava underground.

The enterprising Akubuike had expanded his farm with loans from money lenders. His produce is gone, and he is left with debt to pay.

Sleep departed from him, his voice and apatite too. Withdrawn from all and locked in his hut, he saw and spoke to no one form 6 days. Drifting in and out of reality, it his searching mind found the truth he sort. He dashed to the shrine to plead for mercy. He forgot too soon, it dawned on him, this was the axe of the gods, it is the punishment for his disobedience.
At the shrine, he offered the sacrifice of; 2 jars of palm wine, three white hens, and 15 tubers of yam, in excess of the promise he made.
The gods speaking through the voice of the oracle has rejected his sacrifice, and Adindu in ghostly gait returned home to face his fate.

After two moons, his debtor collected everything he owned including his farmland and hut. Broken and homeless, he and his household returned to the Igwe to plead for a chance to work as a slave to survive.

They say, "the gods are wise",
Some say, "everything is predestined and the gods have no hand in it",
Others say, "the gods only watch and listen",
A few say, "there are no gods".
For the Amandi people it is simple, "there is God, and there is man, and they have an understanding".


Anthony Ikechukwu Ubah

Wednesday, 5 August 2015

LAGOS behind the wheels

A lot has been going on around me in the past few days, ranging from waiting outside the doors of a labor room (my sister added another to the planet's 7 billion people), to a mountain of tasks at work to shovel down, thus I couldn't post anything on my blog. Lagos did have Her fair share of me this time. My apologies. 
The city in mind: I stumbled into this post on a friend's Facebook page about driving in city of Lagos Nigeria, and as funny as it sounds it's as incredibly true as it is...well most of it. I made a few adjustments and additions to the original post... 
What can I say, START YOUR ENGINES!!

On the road;

  1. When in doubt, accelerate!
  2. Be prepared to ram into anything stopping you that is wearing uniform in Lagos (police,traffic warden, FRSC, Kai brigade, fire brigade, road safety, VIO, LASTMA, LAMATA, LASWA)
  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 properly #cash), and if they don’t agree, pretend that you are calling an uncle who is in the army (believe me it always works), never follow them to any sort of office except you are ready to pay ten times more than what was demanded.
  4. Never give police, Road safety or VIO your original particulars (whether expired or up to date).
  5. Danfo(Bus) drivers believe they are immortal. Never yield to the temptation to teach them otherwise.
  6. Okada(commercial motor bikes) riders have a pact with suicide, avoid them like a plaque.
  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 "25 years".
  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! That's how the city be.
  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 a 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 whole Saturday at the panel beater’s.
  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 three people. Lagosians always claim to know every inch of the city – even areas they’ve never been to. Please do ask, Google maps never tell you about street gates and abandoned roads, so make your GPS a second option.
  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 you are a bonafide Lagos driver 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. No room for slow or cautious driving.
  24. In Lagos 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 tyre!!!
  26. Always drive with the full beam of your full headlamps at night, otherwise all oncoming cars would blind you with theirs. Endeavor to change your lamp to those white bright light.
  27. In the event of a little car accident, don't hold back on your vocal aggression. In Lagos, the driver who cannot show a higher level of "craze" is judged guilty irrespective of who actually is at fault.
  28. Putting a L sign on your car is just an attraction of bully drivers, don't do it you will be tortured! well maybe you can if you are yet to renew your licence, or haven't got one yet.
  29. On a narrow road, if u are waiting for cars with right of way to completely finish passing through or stop for them to allow allow you join traffic from a connecting road, you might as well be prepared to wait forever. Just block everybody till they have no choice but to let you go.  
  30. If you are a Danfo driver, you have a free parking space every where in the city, even on roundabouts, the middle of the road or a busy junction. but if your car is private, LASTMA is always willing to toll you car and park it well for you, at their office. If you don't have money to bail your car from LASTMA, park on an entrance or feel free to takeout the 'NO PARKING' signs anywhere and park comfortably, they are put there to selfishly secure the space for someone else. Kill the engine and walk away.



HORNING IN LAGOS

'Horn’ when someone executes a dangerous maneuver.

‘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.

'Horn' when nobody is horning, you need to break the silence

'Horn' when every body is horning, 

'Horn' when you are scared.

'Horn' When you can not wait.

'Horn' to test your horn...just keep on horning its also part of your car

Good luck, as you expeditiously navigate through Lagos and hustle and bustle


 #LAGOS #LAGOSTRAFFIC #LAGOSDRIVING