Moos & Tears!

Hello and a good week to everybody. What I want to talk about this week is about an interesting movie I watched on cable last week. The movie was about a young autistic woman who rises above many odds to rein in an education for herself. She also struggles, perseveres and succeeds in communicating effectively with society at large and enlightens the world on the goings on in the mind of an autistic person. What interested me most about the movie was this young woman’s choice of study for her Master’s program – the mooing of cows! Yes my dear friends, a genuine study on what cows moo about. At first my incredulity turned to a patronizing pat on the head, her head, as I erroneously thought that being an autistic person, she had little to aspire to, and the level of self development she had attained, was achievement enough. That is until I began to see the amazing way her mind worked, in a way that was almost impossible for the normal human mind to grasp.

Through her amazing insight and her study of moos, the world has learnt that cows like to move in circles, are more adapted to sloped dips instead of ones with steps, and found the most humane way of sending them to the abattoir. I came away from the movie much wiser and more emboldened to carry out the ‘zany’ projects going on in my head I had hitherto been hesitant about sharing with anyone. Thanks to this young amazing lady I can finally air my thoughts with you my family on a subject, which like moos, most have not been blessed to have an insight into; tears. The eye water that we were so acquainted with as children and still are occasionally as adults – some more often than others- is what I would like to study for my Master’s program.

In the study of, or research on any serious discipline, there is need to focus and specialize on a particular aspect of that discipline. My chosen department in the discipline of tears is to do with the how rather than the whys. I will explain. After watching numerous movies, documentaries, and even in real life, I have observed that people cry or should I say, shed tears from different parts of the eye. Some shed tears from the farthest corners of their eyes nearest to the ears, some from the middle of the eyes while others do so from the corners nearest to the nose. All these observations have been made with the subjects standing or seated in an upright position so that the true source of each tear is determined by the direct pull of gravity.

Just like the moo studying lady had the last laugh on her critics, so am I sure I will be rolling on the floor in months or years to come when I shall be vindicated by my fact finding mission. This is because my research, I am sure, will evolve into finding out which tear duct each individual is naturally disposed to crying from. Once this is ascertained, one will find out which tear duct is responsible for communicating a particular emotion; whether there be a specific tear duct for the expression of anger, which for sadness and grief and which for joy, or which duct is shared by two or more emotions. This will thus leave open the last emotion, or should I say non-emotion to scrutiny – tears of the crocodile kind.

Crocodile tears! I believe very strongly that the considerable economic losses that are incurred yearly by families, businesses and countries to this dreadful anomaly could be reduced drastically once the offending tear duct is found out and labelled appropriately. Through more from instinct than observation, I am strongly persuaded that the duct responsible for the ejaculation of the phoney tears is the one situated at the far corner of the eyes nearest to the ears, but, having sworn allegiance to proof by science I am resolved to stay my assumptions until the ultimate findings of my painstaking scientific research. Imagine a situation where, upon the invention of an emotion pinpointing tear duct machine, a fraudulent business man goes aweeping to his partner, with claims of being dispossessed of their jointly invested funds by unscrupulous fellows. The partner simply employs the services of the fact finding tear duct machine by beaming its rays on the claimant, and the scoundrel is exposed by the silent neon flashing screen screaming. “CROCODILE SERVING DUCT!, CROCODILE SERVING DUCT!”. Even in the home, women would be forced to lessen the strain they routinely put their eyes through, thus restricting themselves to deploying the use of their eyes to the expression of real emotion. The potential of this research is limitless, and will prove to be a formidable ally to its much older sibling, the lie detector. Then again, what do I know?
My mind’s running like a public tap but the powers that be are screaming I have far exceeded the space allotted to me. I enjoin everyone to support me in carrying mini researches in their own lives. Who knows, I may pop up at your doors with a thirty page questionnaire! Till then, this dogged scientist-to-be wishes you all have a great week!

2011

A good week and New Year everybody! How was everyone’s Christmas celebrations? Mine was a working holiday and I didn’t get the chance to see my wonderful family but it was enjoyable nonetheless. The carnival in Calabar was spectacular as usual and I walked the whole nine hours required of participants in the event. I, however, thankfully, did not have to smile for the entire time which was more than a relief – ‘Nuff respec’ to all you models out there. Everything was almost as it was the previous year so I have no details to bore you with. What I will bore you with is my excitement at meeting one of you, one of my very own readers, Ebbe Bassey! Yes my friends, I saw the ‘local’ girl in Calabar, and she almost got me in trouble!
I was on my way to the king and queen competition taking at the stadium strictly as a spectator and to support my friends Emeka Enyiocha and Ufuoma Ejenobor who were our band’s king and queen. They had gone ahead of me because I had stayed back to have dinner before going since I wasn’t sure when next I’d have the chance to eat that night. I was strolling through the lobby when I heard someone call out my name from across the hall. I glanced back and saw a lady dressed in a black top ( Ebbe was it?) and white slacks walked up to me. she walked up to me purposefully with an air of familiarity and a dazzling smile, so much so that it stretched mine involuntarily. With a knowing twinkle in her eye she introduced herself to me as Ebbe Bassey and the rest was almost a blur. I don’t know how she survived the bear hug I enveloped her in but I remember I drew back eventually to compare her with the picture I had of her on my facebook page. She was far more beautiful than any of her pictures and I told her so – you Calabar women will not kill us! I would most certainly have envied her husband were my own Frieda not more beautiful. Anyway I congratulated her on her wedding that she didn’t deign to inform me about to which she apologised and had the temerity to demand that I not fail to invite her for mine before dragging me off to meet her husband Mark who was having a drink in the bar.
He was a very pleasant guy, quiet, with keen intelligent listening eyes. I shook hands with him and my attention reverted back to Ebbe and we walked to the other end of the room to exchange more colourful stories with one another. Her idea of compensating me was to offer useful tips on how to get the most romantic places to get married for significantly reduced prices. Fine, I’ll forgive her. The rest of what we talked about isn’t important to you but I became fast friends with the couple in what promises to be an invaluable alliance. It has also shown me how valuable you all are to me through our blog experience which has shown to have developed into a collective relationship. Who knows which one of you I’ll be meeting next. Whenever it is, I definitely look forward to it especially meeting the likes of Formerly Stealth Reader – I love that name, Myne Whitman, Rosa Winkler and all you Anonymous(es) that like to stay that way.
Sadly I have to rush off to work since those slave drivers in Tinsel don’t brook any lateness. Then again we will see next week won’t we? Have a wonderful New Year and be sure to eat up those leftover festival grub. They always taste nice to us single ones as long as there’s a handy freezer to store them in and a microwave to warm them. I personally have my fridge stocked till the next week and a half; I went by three families who cooked too much during the season. Have a great week/year everyone!
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Safety

Everything about me these days is so safety related. Good week everybody. Yes my friends, I have just finished an advanced course on safety and it’s amazing how quickly it has already begun to entrench itself in my life. It is truly amazing and all encompassing! It’s all about assessing, identifying and managing risk and containing potential hazards and is even relevant in business. I won’t bore you with the details and though on a normal day I’d be tempted to brag about my new found knowledge to you guys, a strange willingness to share encapsulates me and I feel compelled to do the Divine’s bidding. Here goes…

Scenario one. I went to do a job in Abuja and was checked into a really nice hotel somewhere in the Jabi district. The staff was all smiley and welcoming, especially Idara, a very pretty dark complexioned lady from Akwa Ibom state, whose smile outshone the blinding sun outside. I was shown to my room which was on the first floor upstairs and was taken through a maze of corridors, so much so that I wondered if I was ever going to find my way out again. While it was all very well lit, there was an austereness about it – its source I couldn’t quite put my finger to. It was when I got to my room that I saw why I was so uneasy. My room though compact and nice, had no windows and the window in the bathroom opened up to the corridor. I immediately began to feel very entombed. If a fire were to break out I would have a clouded fiery maze to have to blindly find my out through and, who knows, I might even make it. My ‘safety’ instincts and ‘risk management’ skills kicked into place. I quickly called one of the staff and immediately asked for the nearest exit and was shown one facing my door from further down the corridor. Never mind that it opened up to a balcony on the first floor of the hotel, it was good enough for me. At least I would be able to break my fall with the aid of the parked cars below me.

Scenario two. I finished that job in Abuja and boarded a rather crowded plane bound for Lagos. It was so full I could hardly find a place to stuff my bag. I noticed a stewardess at the rear end of the plane gesticulating towards me. Supposing her arm movements to mean I should stow my luggage in any available space, I stashed it in a compartment that contained some oxygenlike tanks and went and sat down. Not long after the plane began to taxi up the runway, and to my surprise, the gesticulating hostess came up to my side. With her face set in icy fury, she hissed that she had been asking me to bring my bag to the rear where she would stow it away safely but instead, I chose to put it in an unsafe place. She then turned around and yanked my bag from the cubby hole I’d put it and dumped it unceremoniously on the ground telling me I would have to get up and look for a safer place to put it and she was not obliged to stow it away for me. I just stared at her balefully, silently daring her to do her worst because there was no way I was going to get up while the seat belt signs were on with the plane still taxiing up the runway. Luckily another steward came to the rescue and stowed my bag under the seat in front of me, quickly diffusing the tense moment. When I simmered down a few moments later, I took time to think why she acted the way she did to me and realised that she may have thought I had understood that she wanted me to come put my bag away at the rear but rather chose not to on account of arrogance while I, on my part, was seething with anger because of her perceived vindictiveness and power drunkenness. How often differing perceptions and subjective thought lead us to many a tussle?

It would be fair to say that safety and management of risk are beginning to form an integral part of my life. It is also amazing how much saving we make regarding cost to lives and property when we make safety, and the anticipation that everything in life is a risk, a priority in our lives. It’s been almost a month I haven’t put anything on this board and I have missed you. For my absence i apologise. Believe me when I say I feel the pinch when I'm away cut off from you lot as well. I also feel rejuvenated anytime I come back here to share with you my experiences. I will most likely be going to Calabar again for the carnival although I will not be operating in the same capacity as I did last year. That said, I am going to make sure I have a fun filled time there. I would, if it’s not too much to ask, like to know what my favourite people will be up to this Christmas and New Year season. I’m already lining up the pawpaw and watermelon I’ll be using to detoxify my system after the season’s bending binge. Have a wonderful Christmas everybody!

The Visitor

Keeping secrets is such a terrible thing, just as telling lies is; I know because I’m keeping one and I’m burning to tell you all about it. It’s a wonder I haven’t blown up yet because this infant I’m harbouring is well past its gestation period. If what they say about good things coming to those who wait is something to go by then this had better be worth it because I’m having to plug my ears so they don’t leak out of there as well. Good week everyone and a very hearty Barka de Sallah to my Muslim brothers and sisters. How’s everyone this week? Me? I’m not sure how I’m feeling. Oh darn it! I am sure how I’m feeling! I am in a very lousy mood right now. A day I should have spent hopping from one Muslim friend’s house to another filling the gaps between my teeth and sorting them out with tooth picks or floss afterwards has just been loused up by Frieda for no reason I can lay my hands on whatsoever. My crime that I can barely make out from all the gibberish she’s uttered so far? Empathy. Empathy! Just to say, “I don’t exactly know how you’re feeling but I’ll share it with you”. That’s all!

What happened? It all began yesterday, no, the day before yesterday when Frieda was in distress for the best part of two days, nay, she still is in pain now as we speak but to a much lesser degree. She was on her period during the stated time and she was in extraordinary pain, worse than any I’d ever known her to have. Matter of fact the pain was excruciating. I could tell because she couldn’t even stand up let alone walk straight. She was on her period, the, like I’d said earlier, the most painful I’d ever experienced her to be in. Frieda is the sweetest thing ever and even in that pain she was still a trooper; she still asked me how I was, trying to ignore her own discomfiture and I, on my part (bearing in mind I’d never seen her nor any other person in this kind of distress before), resolved to do all I could in my power to be as supportive as possible. That was a time I was especially glad I was created a man. Imagine being scared --itless of wearing white trousers to a party or feeling a wetness that has little to do with arousal. At the same time I remembered the wise words of an elderly friend; “When your woman is being irrationally and illogically annoying, don’t fight her, be patient and calm. When she’s going through a very rough time, stay with her. When she’s going through trials, stand by her. She’ll forgive you almost anything when you start to misbehave because she’ll never forget what you do for her.” Unfortunately for me, sleep was at its sweetest during this time.

I didn’t stand by her. I was made to wait upon her, stand by her and my circulation cut off by her claws! Even when I tottered on my feet, completely at a loss of what to do – say sorry, hold her hand, rub her back and wonder how all this was going to assuage the agony she was going through. Would it not be better if she just went to the doctor’s for some prescription? I tried urging her to go the gym to do some exercise so it’d flow better. No. It was me she wanted. I did not sleep for three days and even when I tried to harden my heart, watching her suffer was too much for me to ignore. Is this what I’d see in marriage? No way man! I’d sooner plant twins in there so the aperture (not the one that really matters of course) would open up a little bit more, let it run free and save me from the cyclic lunar madness . Periods? Damned when they come, damned when they don’t. Still, that is not what I’ve called you all here to complain about.

What I have called the community to complain about is about what happened afterwards. Would you believe that – okay what happened was this. Frieda was feeling rather low the next day and feeling a little depressed – we all get that way sometimes – and I tried encouraging her, telling her what a trooper she was, and telling the tons of things she’s accomplished in such a short space of time. We talked for over an hour and true to myself, I was as patient and supportive as ever. She calmed down, seemed to lighten up and I left it at that. She came back again, revisiting the same subject we’d just dealt with. Calmly, and still true to my nature, I considered that it might be prudent to try another approach and deftly tried to swing the mood to a more upbeat one. I talked about the funny incidents that had brightened my day, in the hope that it would cheer her up a little. Ah! Obirin! What I got for my trouble was a serious tongue lashing about how insensitive I was to her plight and that I only thought of myself! I was accused of being uncomfortable in unfamiliar territory and would use humour and jokes to get out of it. Me, Kalu, run away? I was so angry! Who was it that spent three whole sleepless nights caring for her during her time of need? Who was it that kept talking until he had nothing else to say? Who was it that… In short, I’m not going to provoke myself. I will be the bigger man. I will ignore the fact that you, Frieda, completely soured my day and made me cancel all my Sallah ram meat appointments, kept me holed up in my flat seething with anger and my lost appetite. But, I’ll be the bigger man. I will forgive. I hold no grudge against you. I only ask that you, my people judge this matter and tell me what I have done wrong. Have a great week everyone, and to you too my dearest Frieda!

PS. This post was actually written last week and the said day happened to be on her birthday which is what made the experience all the more strange. Hm, I wonder…

School Ghost

Good week everyone! For some reason I am on a high this morning and I don’t know what it is I am so excited about, which is nothing. Maybe the reason I have so much adrenalin pumping through me is because I am biting my nails in trepidation regarding what I have to do today. Today I go to enrol in a three day course in a field that was responsible for my chronic truancy during my secondary school days – science. Ah, those were the days, the most horrible days of my entire life, and I refused to bow to the enemy – Physics, Chemistry and boarding school! Escape route? Truancy! Man, I was such a pro I had a radar in my head that went off anytime a potential threat – any adult with a questioning look in his or her mind as to why I was not where I was supposed to be, or why I was where I was not supposed to be – lurked behind me. I was so good at truancy that I was nicknamed The School Ghost. I remember my greatest feat; circumventing classes for a full year, and paying the price – I repeated the class. The good thing about my truancy, when I wasn’t roaming the length and breath of the country armed with my school fees and that of my younger brother’s, was that most of it was spent in the library, public or school. I loved to lose myself in the literatures and histories of different countries and times and sometimes hid among the shelves when the library was being locked up for the day only to creep out, switch on a discreet light bulb and continue my devouring of the delicious volumes of fact and fantasy. I learned back then that there is always a heaven in every hell on this side of the world. Now science, my past, has come back to haunt me – and I am ready.

I think I gained my confidence in tackling this monster when I prepared and sat for my GRE exams some years ago. I bought a preparatory book on geometry and algebra, and I think trigonometry, squeezed my eyes shut, prayed and opened it. It was amazing! I was led through a step by step ‘how to do it’ on all the mathematical problems and most importantly why and where it was all going! Suddenly I could see what all this was for. I saw myself, in my mind’s eye, writing calculations that would make the internet go faster, or designing the very perfectly symmetrical cars I loved so much. In short, the reason for poring over the complex figures became increasingly realistic and not abstract like my stupid and visionless teachers in secondary school made me believe.

I think we should be very careful with the way we guide our young ones as we guide them on the arduous path to becoming adults. Education means nothing if it is not going to be applied to some aspect of life in my opinion. Anyway I have a date with science tomorrow at seven and they’d better show me a road map of where what I’ll be learning for the next few days is going or I will take someone’s head off. Early morning tomorrow so early night tonight. Have a great week everyone and do please spare a thought for me. Tara!

Prelude To Crossing Over

Good week everyone. It’s been like ages since I hooked up with you guys here at our meeting place. I’m asking myself if there’s any gossip about myself I should shed and lay bare before you all but, I fear you may not be quite able to handle the truth. Okay, so I hopped on an okada two weeks ago when my car refused to start in the morning on my way to work. I had to hop on one and I don’t know which one scared me the more, the thought of falling off the bike, being hit by a car or being seen by the public or worse still the gossip press – oh shoot, I just gave them the ammo!- on an okada. My mother who always scolded me about my slouching habit as a child would certainly have beheaded me on that day. My chin was buried somewhere in my chest and my back was so hunched that I probably looked like I was carrying a baby on my back. I squinted my eyes to protect them from the smarting wind rushing at them and at the same time surreptitiously glanced at passers by in the frantic hope that none would recognise me but, that is a story for another day; now to the present.

I am having a hard time trying to write this post because one of my very good friends, Femi, is here on a visit for a few days and that, my friends, is a few days too many because the idiot is a pest. No sooner had he entered my house (flat) than he began to demand that I go to cook up something for him to eat. I told him I had a carton of instant noodles and eggs for him to test his skills on. The bloody nerve! A well meaning considerate friend would have asked his wife to cook two huge pots of good soup since he was going to stay at his bachelor friend’s for a few days. Oh well, I guess we’ll just sit here looking at each other, go out to work, eat whatever is available on set and at the end of the day come back and go out for a drink and goat meat peppersoup. I have my multi vitamins and fruit to keep me buoyed so little worries about scurvy. We are having fun catching up with the latest gist, not gossip like girls do, but manly talk; work, business, maybe dirty jokes and what have you. His wife just called to know how her husband is doing and asked to speak with me ‘to know how I’m doing’. We both know she just wants to know he is where he says he is and I do feel sort of honoured that she trusts me to keep her husband in a good place. I think before I finally get married I’ll have my bride sign a pre-nup allowing me a weekend’s getaway once in a while to catch my breath and smell freedom for just a few days before jumping back into the swirling pool. I am not being selfish, I’m just working hard to prevent the inevitable midlife crisis that plagues many a home when the man begins to feel he has lost out on the best life has to offer. But then that’s just me and my many theories.

We just opened another bottle and we’re starting get to get philosophical on matters ranging from how best to get rid of our corrupt leaders to who benefits the most from sex; men or women, and why we have to be the ones to spend a fortune just to get some. The rest are not topics for polite conversation so I’ll spare you those and pen off here before my hand loosens like my tongue already is. I’m very possessive of my ‘squeaky clean’ image so while I’m still on this side of the divide, have a great week everyone!

Stuck in the Mud

Good week to everyone. How’s everyone been? I hope much better than I have been, and still am. I have a writer’s block. I don’t know what to write let alone how to write whatever it is should I have an inkling of what I’m writing. I don’t easily admit my lapses, failures or weaknesses. It is not that I have a problem admitting them but that I hardly recognise them. You see, we, my siblings and I, were raised to be strong and not show any weakness whatsoever. It was so bad that I didn’t even know when I was angry until I erupted and wondered a little while afterwards where that came from. I haven’t cried since my dad passed on – for this I envy my mother and my sisters, and the tail of the family, Iyke – but I almost beat someone up in a road rage incident in London after he kept taunting me. This happened two days after I learnt of his death. It was months after the incident that I realised why I had erupted in a manner quite unlike myself. I think that it is partly for this reason that I decided, on the advice of Frieda and Nkem, to start my blog. There is something about the written word that gives a name and a face and a starkness to the murky and somehow inaccessible feelings that constantly swirl around me. When I write them out I exclaim and say, “Oh, so that’s what it is?”. And it all suddenly doesn’t seem so shameful or sissyish or some insurmountable problem anymore.

I have, for the past two weeks been running away from my laptop because of the fear of not knowing what to write on my blog or if I eventually put something down, will be a load of crap – and I am a proud man. So the option? Run! That is until Frieda came in and asked what was wrong with me. She is sometimes like a needle picking a splinter out of a wound. She blows gently at it while relentlessly and deftly prising the surrounding flesh until she gets to the offending splinter. I sometimes lash at her just to ward her off so I can keep those little demons where they belong – trapped. But, when I talk about it with her, I come away with a feeling of being closer to the human race. Enough of this sentiment. So I began to talk. I wasn’t happy with my life in general. Every time I went to work, and even after rehearsing at home, I would perform at a measly forty to fifty percent of what I envisaged – I usually score myself on my work and performances. Then I watched myself on Tinsel, the drama series I do for Mnet, for the first time last week and got so depressed with my performance and now I was too miserable to write anything. She calmly said, “Then write about it!” “Write about what? Are you mad?” I retorted. “I don’t even know what’s wrong with me and you’re telling me to show people my vulnerable side!” “Yes” she said. “People want to know everything about you good or bad, plus it will help you sort out your thoughts and feelings. Just make sure I read what you’ve written before you post it because I know you. When you dive, you dive in head first; you don’t bother testing the waters.” “Well,” I replied. “Haven’t you heard that saying a boy who is sent by his father to burgle a house always kicks the front door down?”

So here I am, with nothing to write for this week and shamefacedly admitting it. Oh, did I also add that I have a dripping nose to add to my woes as well. I know it’s short notice but is there a way I can get rid of this nasal twang to my voice in two hours before I go on set this afternoon? I think I’ll post it on facebook for an even quicker solution. Have a great week everyone. Apologies for the depressing nature of my post.