Binniversary

Hello guys! A great week or weekend to everyone! Would you believe it?!! It is two years last week that my blog started! I don’t know what to say. What I can say though is that I find it hard to believe that I have actually had a thing or two to write about in that space of time. What this means is that I may actually have something to write about or I may at the end of the day be a closet chatterbox. Seriously, if I had known that I would have had to come up with something almost every week of the year, I’d have chickened out of the project. This is where I offer my very hearty thanks to my beloved manager Nkem who trusted her instincts from the very first email I sent her. Even now I’m in her black books for not striking the hot iron to herald my binniversary(?) – I knew the computer would have a problem with this word – it already has that ugly red error line underneath it. Fine, my blog’s second anniversary.

The events in the past week have reminded me of a proverb my late dad told me once. I’ll write it in Igbo first. O bu mgba mgba, ka o bu okpo okpo? O bu ya ka nwanyi ji ukwu dimkpa gbaa n’ala! Don’t you just love my language? Okay, it translates thus: should I wrestle her or should I punch her? That’s how the woman hurled the great man to the ground! I can almost see the dazed expression on your faces, especially Nkem’s. I’ll explain.

A renowned wrestler in a community once had a sore disagreement in the marketplace with a woman who was so furious with him she challenged him to a fight. Incredulous, he stared at her and scornfully accepted the challenge. As she circled him in the centre of the spectators that were quickly gathering around them, he stood arrogantly declaiming his dilemma to everyone. How was he to deal with this upstart? He had broken the backs of renowned wrestlers from other villagers and here was this mere woman come to challenge him. How was he to deal with this situation? What tactic was he to use? If he boxed her, she’d probably expire from just a blow to the head! If wrestling, he could turn her into a paraplegic just by hurling her to the ground. As he stood there pondering aloud his dilemma to everyone with an ear, the woman rushed at him , grabbed him by the ankles, pulled with all her might and sent him crashing to the ground! In the Igbo culture, if during a fight one’s back is thrown to the ground, that one is vanquished regardless of how badly beaten the opponent may be. Suffice it to say the woman carried the day. A lesson in indecision.

You guys should by now know I love my culture dearly; it’s also one of the reasons I still mourn my dad’s passing till today; I missed out on a lot of things I could have learnt from him before he left – stuff I would have shoved down your throats and everyone else’s who’d give me a listening ear. Frieda calls me a dinosaur because I use proverbs that 'make' no sense whatsoever when I use them to summarise a point I’m making. You see, proverbs are the spice with which we season words. Like stew to white or even jollof rice, or gravy to mashed potatoes and steak, or afang soup to pounded yam are proverbs to speech.

All this rigmarole is just to tell you that I had so much to write about in the past weeks I couldn’t make my mind up on what to write about as it’s always rewarding to get feedback from you guys.- yes, we crave love too. O bu mgba mgba ka o bu okpo, is what has put me in trouble with Nkem for not hammering out the maiden post of my blog’s second anniversary last week. I will be decisive and choose okpo for my next post. For my punishment I’ve been compelled, against my better judgement, to put out a post everyday for the next four days. I am being pushed to the edge, of the stream, here. Let’s see who will drink that murky water! Have a great week everyone!

My Break.

My mum is so beautiful! No seriously, she is. It was dim last night when i hugged and kissed her so she was just my mum then. This morning when she was doing the dishes in the kitchen she was so slim and beautiful. I just had to hug and kiss her again and tell her how gorgeous she looked and she, typically blushed like a sixteen year old on her first date. Good week everybody, and it’s refreshingly cool here in London. Gone is the winter bite and now i can trek about freely with just a T-shirt and a light jacket. I love to walk and that’s one of the things i miss the most when i’m in Naija where walking on the street earns you pitying looks from passersby on your ‘fall’ from grace. It’s either that or you risk being knocked down by those pesky hornets called okadas(commercial motorcyclists) or danfos(commercial mini buses)or, if you look dishevelled enough, get arrested by the police for ‘wandering’.

Gone to the fridge and there’s nothing to eat. Everything there so healthy! Wholemeal bread, olive oil margarine,skimmed milk, egusi soup without palm oil. She might as well make omelettes without the yolk! Come to tink of it, knowing my mum and her iron will, she probably would, and soon. Freida! Let me tell you this now, if you go down that road i will cheat on you! I will rent a studio flat for my friends and I where we ‘ll proceed to cook up every heartstopping delicacy known to us for every healthy cardboard or sludge you make for us. Oh, and i’m still not talking to you. I know what i’ll do, mum’s going out so i’ll have an apple and a nice hot lemon tea in her presence and when she leaves, heh heh! I’ll go out and get the fattest, greasiest, stinkiest doner kebab at my favourite shop, come back and wash down the delicious nosh with a can of coke. Hang on, my bruv just came in. Ok i’m back now after another hour of chit chat, scolding and talking about healthy eating – yes, my mum was there as well. Result? It has been genrally agreed on that i will be the one to cook this evening and the dish of the evening shall be- drumroll, couscous with chicken breast fillets and flavoured with crushed almonds and raisins.

Okay i have to rush off to the US embassy then come back and trawl through the net to garner tips so i don’t lose my crown as the grandmaster chef among my baby brothers. Will let you know how it went within the next few days as a special treat especially as i’m on a holiday. Have a great few days everybody!

PS; Tips are very welcome but please give them soon as i have only until tomorrow evening to come up with my masterpiece. Remember, the topic is, how do you cook couscous – a very delicious one. Also remember my reputation is at stake here among my family.

Dermatitis?

A good week tout le monde! I’m scared! I’m itching all over! Well on my arms and my shins. I don’t know if it’s the lagoon I plunged into while doing a scene where I, sorry, my character, was murdered by the police just because he used a hapless lady as a human shield, or because of the oppressive heat conditions I worked under while wearing a very heavy cloak all afternoon. On the one hand I may be looking at an adverse skin condition, and on the other, it could just be heat rash. When I finished that day and looked at my hands, they looked like boiled mackerel fish that had been left out in the sun for too long.

I have since then played the role of a home doctor by having three showers a day, yesterday with a good dose of antiseptic in my water, lubed myself liberally with antifungal and antibacterial cream and ghosted myself all over with dusting powder before turning in for the night. It has come down somewhat but it still lingers, possibly on account of the oppressive heat that has found its way into my home on account of the recent breakdown of my air conditioner. Don’t worry about me; if symptoms still persist, I will be sure to see a doctor, much as I hate to see those walls for fear of the confirmation of my worst nightmare. I now realise God never lets me get ill; I’d die many times before my death.

Right now I’m getting ready for two sets, the first on the Tinsel set, rush to the passport office to pick my new e-passport(with a very horrible picture of me) during the interlude, and then over to Uche’s Damage set to complete the red carpet scene that ended in a fiasco at the Vantage hotel, Oniru, on account of its greedy manager who demanded more money than was initially agreed upon by both parties when he saw the celebrities coming in. Now I have to pay for his obtuse business intellect and greed by going for a reshoot and possibly losing out on another job. I hope he gets what’s coming to him for trying to take the food off my table. Nonsense!

Anyhow, I’m off to another antiseptic shower before getting another antifungal/antibacterial coating and off to the harsher work climate. Until then, watch where you swim and have another great week everyone! Ouch! Scratch scratch…

Shattered!

                        A good week to everybody. Thank you for the reception to last week’s post. It was so heartbreaking that I just couldn’t get to the net from where I was and so couldn’t post comments like I have resolved to do nowadays. No fear though; I am still going to post my replies to some of the comments on last week’s post. I’m trying to rush through this one as the miscreant who calls himself the production manager will be beating my door down in about thirty minutes.to drag me to work. But, as always, I risk life and limb to get this vital insider information out to you my wonderful readers. Aluta continua!
                         I’m still groggy from last night’s shoot which ended at 3am. It’s 10am now and I’m headed out for yet another fight scene with Uche Jombo who plays my wife in a drama that focuses on domestic violence. The difference here is that instead of the usual violence where the husband routinely uses the hapless wife as a punching bag, the diminutive wife in this case gives as much as she can take – and I have a sore jaw to show for it. Man, that lady is strong. We did this kitchen scene where Taiwo, my character, suspecting that his wife Sarah is helping feed his younger sister’s, played by Tonto Dikeh, drug habit lands a vicious back handed slap across the face knocking her to the ground. Quickly recovering, she yanks his feet off the ground and he crashes to the ground beside her with a loud thud. I literally had the wind knocked out of me and then she pounced on me and gave me a very painful bite on the stomach. Well it wasn’t that painful given that we were only acting but it was painful enough to get the expected agonised scream from me.

                          Only yesterday at night I had vases and wine glasses hurled at me which I to dodge just a fraction of a second before they smashed into the wall behind me. Funny thing is, the missiles were to be hurled at me, and I was to move just a little to the left so that the scared expression on my face would be registered with the glass shattering against the wall in one shot otherwise it would be wasted and we would have to do it all over again! My character was expected to, after the initial shock of his lucky escape, turn and throttle his wife in a fit of unbridled rage. When I heard rather than saw the loud boom of the vase and the resulting shards of glass strewn all over the floor, I realised it could have been my head if Uche hadn’t aimed properly enough at the wall or I hadn’t moved quickly enough. I just stood there in shock, frozen. I could feel the empty cold eyes of the cameras on me waiting for me to move but I couldn’t; I just stood there. Uche watched and waited for a reaction from me still quivering with rage and then stalked off. To my horror I suddenly realised she wore nothing on her feet as she walked across the broken glass on the floor and screamed out to her to mind the glass. She turned around, glared at me and asked how stupid I thought she was; of course she was looking where she was going and minding her step! Suffice it to say that the scene was ended with that priceless look on my face.

                           I am still reeling from that experience at how easily things could have taken a turn for the absolute worst. This emphasizes the need for pushing for added investment in an entertainment industry that is here to stay; for things to be done properly and for risk to be properly controlled and contained by way of insurance. So far we have managed to keep our lives, limbs and property while getting what work we can get done through God, our wits and passion. Speak hands for me! :-D Have a great week everyone!

Family Woes

A good week to everyone! My week’s been dotted with a few health challenges. I don’t know what I ate the day before yesterday but I do know that I spent the whole day seated on the throne getting rid of most of my problems. The good thing is, I feel considerably lighter which makes my task of battling this advancing bulge not as much a mirage as it was last week. My mum called yesterday and asked how I was and I made the mistake of telling her how I was, and then slipped further into the mud by telling her I ate outside; the very thing we were banned from doing as kids. “Kalu, how many times have I warned you against eating out?!! You look at the food at it looks and tastes so nice but have you been to the place they cook? Even on food channels here, you hardly see them washing their hands before going from one segment to the other. They wipe dishes clean with tablecloth that’s already laden with germs how much more there in Nigeria where there are no enforced food processing laws!” “Mum,” I started. “Let me finish! You know how to cook don’t you? Even if you’ve forgotten how, settle down with someone who loves you and will look after you and leave those useless girls alone. Look at my teacups and chinaware, all in their perfect places. When will I have little ones
to break them for me?!” Can you imagine that?! I know how many times my bottom was warmed or when my ears sang for marking walls with crayons and charcoal and for smashing the very wares I’m now being encouraged to smash via my offspring blowing hot and cold with the same breath!. It’s okay though; I have long since learnt that life isn’t fair.

The last came last night from my brother Obasi. After reading my previous post, School Ghost, the cheeky blighter not only had the nerve to demand a refund of his school fees that I had ‘appropriated’ during my truancy days in secondary school, but also put his comments on the same post for all to see! The very pettiness of it! If I were to begin to recount the number of times he has taken my stuff and run off to school – we were in different schools at the time – and demand payment, with interest, I’d be a much richer man today. Like the time when he took my, my… I can’t remember but you and I know, Obasi, that if you think very properly you will know that what I’m talking ab… Hey! It just occurred to me that I don’t remember any of the wrongs that were done to me by my siblings in the past! That’s means I’m a very forgiving man, and if a forgiving man, then a good man. If a good man, then a heaven bound man! Yaay! But hey, you’re still a wonderful brother and I love you. E never finish o!

A very dear happily married friend of mine, just because I told her I am the black sheep of my family proceeded to inquire after my unmarried brothers for her very chaste friend! Ah, the dividends of see finish ! The prophet is never appreciated by his loved ones; only by outsiders. But, I am a forgiving man. I will shrug it off and plod on towards my destination. I bestow the hand of benevolence on all; my dear mother who failed to recognize that in the entire six years of my stay here I have not had food poisoning, and this one little incident that I ventured to intimate her with, has brought a roomful of bricks crashing down on me, my dearly beloved brother who cannot let bygones be bygones and my darling friend who has serious issues with colour! “Nearer to Thee O Lord (are these the correct words to the hymn?), nearer to Thee!”

Okay, I’m done with my tirade. Have a great week everyone!

Valentine

A good every to everyone and a belated Valentine’s Day to all. I’m in such a good mood today even though I’m at work and am yet to shoot a single scene where my character threatens a poor hapless woman begging for her life. I love being a bad guy. Maybe it’s that quest to know if I’ll be able to eke a living for myself in the underworld should the surface and middle worlds fail me. All those years of day dreaming are finally paying off. I’m high on two very strong cups of coffee and a bottle of Coca Cola and am listening to Enya’s “Now We Are Free”, the soundtrack for the movie Gladiator ; not the best combination for someone who’s trying to keep both feet on the ground. Anyway how was everyone’s day yesterday?

Mine began yesterday with me going out to pick my script up at the Tinsel office and ending up spending four hours on the road for what should have lasted thirty minutes. Valentine. I got there and kissed Blessing, the pretty receptionist happy birthday, got my scripts and ran off before my favourite ladies espied me standing dangerously close to the local tuck shop which was already bursting at the seams with the season’s goodies. Valentine. Determined to have a story to tell you my readers, I went to give myself a treat at Oh La La, a confectionery in the heart of Ikeja, to get some carrot and cheesecakes. Oooh they do make exceedingly good cakes, so much so that my greed overtook me and compelled me to add a Black Forest cake to the loot. Anyway, here’s the interesting bit. I took my shopping over to the counter to pay, and in high spirits, I wished the pretty cashier a happy Valentine’s Day. I must have said it in a low voice because she didn’t seem to hear me so wished her a happy Val’s again, my voice a teeny notch higher. She looked up, smiled sweetly at me and said “Oh thank you sir. Same to you too sir. You didn’t come with your wife sir?” I blinked, then said “Oh, I left her at home.” I promptly paid for my cakes and promptly left. Valentine. E never finish o!

I drove towards home and along the way I remembered that my generating set was a bit low on fuel, so I stopped by a petrol station to put some in the jerry can in Betty’s boot. The petrol attendant at my pump was very effusive and attended to me with gusto. He filled my can up and stowed it in the boot. I thanked him, paid him and made to get into my car when I heard him mumble something ‘to himself’. I opened my door and heard it again, this time a little louder but still incomprehensible. I had by this discerned that he was trying to pass something across to me and asked him to please repeat himself. With some disquiet and with his eyes hovering somewhere below my knees, he blurted out, “Oga (sir), I de wish you happy Falentine! Abi you no love me? Because I no get breast for my chest?” I reached into my pocket and handed him a hundred Naira note. Valentine. The rest of the evening was spent checking out a new drinking joint with my friends Femi and Cheta where we watched a football match and flirted harmlessly with an amiable barmaid. We left at about midnight, got home and I crashed on the couch.

Surprisingly, I woke up at 5am this morning before even my alarm clock did! Now I’m still nervous from the excess caffeine I’ve bolstered myself with. It’s 6pm now and I still have five more scenes before I can leave for home – late night today. It’s okay though, at least you get to know what my Valentine was like – well part of it, because I still have to convince madam that only she was on my mind throughout yesterday. I will survive. Have a great week everyone!

Right in the Middle!

A good week to everybody and an even greater start to a new month to all. To all, I say, because I feel rather excluded from the group right now. I have little to write this week because the little that was there before has been pushed to a far corner somewhere in the back of my head because of that person that calls herself my girlfriend. Does it make sense that someone would travel in the middle of a blizzard to New York of all places and not deem it fit to let one know she’s safely arrived and is warmly ensconced between sheet and duvet?

What haven’t I sent? Text and BB messages, and calls which actually go through to the very annoying mechanical voice message asking me to leave yet another bloody message! How many more should I leave before it makes any effing difference? I swear, the worst place to be in anything at all is to be in the middle, not knowing where you stand. Isn’t that what got the traveller in trouble with the satyr in Aesop’s fables, blowing his freezing hands warm and his hot porridge cool with the same breath? Probably why God hinted that He’d rather we belong to the extremities of heat or cold rather than be trapped in the wilderness of the lukewarm. Two possibilities are raging in my head.

The first, she could be in trouble. Oh, that she landed safely I am in no doubt; she, to my relief sent me a text informing she’d finally landed in NY after hours and hours of delay owing to an impending blizzard. After that her tracks went cold save for the little relief provided by the comforting ringing of her mobile phone. My mind is solely, well partly on that road from the airport to her hotel and the haunting possibility that anything could happen from accidents to breakdowns and being trapped and frozen, to falling prey to those sinister predators lurking under their favourite shroud; cold and darkness. It doesn’t help that I am currently reading Paul Young’s The Shack , a book about a man coping with the murder of his six year old daughter by a serial killer.

The second is the hopeful possibility that (too angry to even call her name) is simply too irresponsible to understand the need to inform loved ones waiting with bated breath for news of her safe arrival so I can give her a treatment worse than that blizzard she’s running from! This is the same person that almost took my ear off right in the middle of the night worrying about her hotel booking and flight details only just the day before. Bloody hell! You see what I mean about being in the middle? Here I am worrying about whatever mishap may have befallen her when she could well be snoring away in her warm bed, blissfully unaware that she may have kept people in waiting in limbo. Or I could be ranting and raving about what sadistic screws I’ll be working in her soul when I find her so she understands what she’s put me through, when she could be trapped in some ditch somewhere. Middle, no absolutes, no certainties, just nowhere and yet spread thinly everywhere! Which kin’ wahala be dis eh?!

God, I pray you keep her safe so I can volunteer to be your rod of chastisement upon her sou- She just answered the phone! See? What did I tell you earlier?! She was flippin’ asleep! She answered with that throaty sexy – She had the temerity to answer me with a very groggy “Hey baby”! Can you imagine? Just come back first, and you’ll see what I’ll do to you! I’m going apply that rod of… correction to you until you beg for mercy – I hope. Nonsense! Thanks guys for lending me a listening ear jare! Let me go and put my house in order as I ponder the difference between this and dealing with a runaway thirteen year old child. Have a great week everyone! As for you, Frieda, come here, I’m not done with you yet!