9ja Woman

She looked more like a beauty queen for a movie scene…. I look at her with anger flashing in my eyes, frustrated because I don’t know what to do while she, she just stands there aloof, not caring a hoot what I think. I, at the same time, know she’s keenly listening to my thoughts even though I refuse to express them in my anger. I can tell this from the stillness of her posture as she cocks her head slightly to one side, facing away from me, eyes cast downwards and slightly to the left. I know it is slowly turning to a battle of who will be the first to say “I’m sorry”. I walk out, partly because I don’t want to say anything that will cause a huge fight and eventual irreparable damage, partly to make her stew in it and let her see the error of her ways so that if (God forbid) I venture to apologise, she in her eagerness for peace, and with the least of shakara, does not let me beg for too long. The naija woman. Good week everybody!

She is beautiful, whether light or dark in complexion, small or big breasted. Her gentle undulating hips she carries with the gentle sway of a breeze through trees on a hot summer’s day. Her bottom, if spare, when she walks, swishes gracefully with the slight wave of a fish’s tail in water and if generous, with the gentle roll of a distant thunder. She is aware of the magnetic effect she has on men around her as she walks down the road or into the office. She understands now the warnings of yesteryears from her mother of how so pregnant she will be should she sit beside a man. Her father and brothers are fiercely protective of her as they remember their own relentless pursuits of her in other bodies from other homes, lands and climes. When she ‘winds’ her waist to her man on the dance floor, she does so with abandon or with measured modesty, ‘unaware’ of what she’s doing, her hips dipping and jerking at various angles, her bottom jutting out provocatively as they quiver with the nervousness of jelly on a spinning washing machine. Her man, if she has one, smiles confidently in the knowledge that he is the sole proprietor of those hips and that she mischievously teases all and sundry to show them a taste of what they can never have.

At home, she’s a different being altogether; focusing her attention on matters at hand worrying about the future of all her loved ones. She is a deep well of different and very complex emotions and thoughts that are always running through her mind. She defers to her man recognising him as the head of the home but also in the knowledge that she is the engine without which nothing can run. She smiles at the initial stage of the relationship when her man lays down the rules dictating what goes and what doesn’t. She smiles because she sees much further than he can and wisely dedicates her time to studying him so she knows how to get the best of him. Even in their initial lovemaking, she ‘tires’ easily, with a view to gauge his strength, and by the third or fourth time has already known his capabilities and begins to push for what she wants, gently stroking his ego as she advances steadily towards her crescendo. She knows how vulnerable he is to the wiles of her competitors outside and jealously guards her territory, juggling work at the office with cooking the meals he loves the most at home. It is hard to discern to whom her breasts belong; her man or her children – they serve either master with equal vigour. She looks so gorgeous when she goes off to work, a small smile playing on her lips in the awareness that her man watches her warily in the knowledge that she will be hit upon by many in the course of the day. She knows this will keep him in check knowing that many want to take his place. She knows he knows she will not go astray but also knows not to take her for granted.

She is not always sweet – and we like it that way. When she is on the war path she is unstoppable. Her emotions when they rise to the surface are a volcano and we match her, fire for fire. Actually, we choose our battles with her, knowing when to shut up and when to face her. Her hormones, when they begin to rage, cower all before her – no exception. The deference mostly due to remembrance of the times she has accommodated our tantrums and also images of what she went through bearing our children. That is how we like love our 9ja woman, like our meals; with lots of red hot chilli pepper and spice otherwise we’d throw up at its blandness! I know this not a befitting tribute but it is a tribute all the same – in honour of the naija woman. God bless you; we love you. Have a great week everyone.

To thyself be true Pt. 1

Good week tout le monde (everyone) and hoping it was a worthy one seeing as it was my birthday week – I’m blessed you know. ;) Mine was low keyed, right down to the celebration day itself. I went to hang out with my friends who insisted I had to buy the round of drinks. They guzzled, especially JB the slippery one, and I couldn’t because unlike them I had an hour’s drive back home. Idiots! I’m going to get them next time! I got so many birthday wishes last week it was unbelievable – thank you all. There was one in particular that caught me, from a friend (I’d like to thank), that got me thinking.

Her birthday was in the same week as mine and like most birthdays, came with the attendant reflective mood. A well meaning male friend of hers had advised her, she’s in her thirties, to get hitched up as soon as possible before time passed her by. According to him, women outnumbered men by a far margin and therefore were the more aggressive in their pursuit of a partner. According to him, she said, the days when women turned their noses up at prospective suitors were faded from recent memory. Then he stated,” personally I wouldn’t get serious with anyone without ‘test driving’ her first.” She then asked me if the same was the case for most successful men; university education, well paid jobs and businesses. At this point I blushed and sheepishly trailed a pattern in the sand with my foot as I… anyway I digress. I sort of found it very amusing that this school of thought, myopic as it is, should gain such a foothold in the psyche of a good portion of our society; male and female. While it is a fact that women are definitely under more pressure to get hitched up than men owing to more pressure from family, their biological make up, society at large and their own natural need for intimacy and companionship, I think it is much more important to keep things in perspective.

Yes, as a man, I tend to feel 'elated' that I have the luxury of 'picking' and 'choosing'. But when I look closely at the matter I find that this is a mere mirage. It's okay if one just wants fleeting associations with a view to just having sexual relations with the opposite sex but then how would this affect ones decision in ultimately finding a real spousal partner? I learnt earlier on in life that chasing after women, womanizing that is, is like chasing after the wind – one ultimately ends up with nothing. It's easy for me to get distracted by the different attributes in the women I play about with and this may stop me from finding my bone of my bone. What I'm saying is that it is boys who brag about such things because what they should ask themselves is; ultimately, “What kind of woman am i bringing to my home should I want to settle down?” My mother always told me that the day one gets married is the day ones life changes drastically - for the better or for the worse! I've never forgotten that. I look back at two relationships I had in the past and shudder to think of what my life would have turned into had either one resulted in marriage. In one of them I understood how a man would be the last to leave work, head straight for the bar and sneak into bed only to leave for work before dawn of the next day. It was hell on earth. Like my esteemed philosopher and musician, Fela Anikulapo Kuti, says, “I do not want anything that would ‘bring out the beast’ in me.”

Enter the one God given tool to every human being on earth; the gift of self evaluation, introspection. We base our judgment of self, especially in our beloved Africa, Nigeria in particular, on the way we are viewed by all around us. I guess this attests to the cohesiveness of our community but then again, at what point does the individual have the opportunity to show forth his/her uniqueness to help move civilization forward? I cannot emphasize enough the importance of knowing ones self, what one likes and what one dislikes. Last week I wove a thread of seriousness through a fun poking fabric inviting us know ourselves better. This week I’m elaborating on it. One of the wonderful indicators of a need for change is the much feared depression. Its function is phenomenal; it always comes when there’s a need for change in the way we do our things. Things no longer work the way they are supposed to and the discomfort brings with it pain. The pain helps us sit down to assess ourselves and find out what it is we’re doing wrong and as long as we try to ignore it the depression deepens until we decide to make a change. Joy always comes from pain, solitude and courage. The funniest stories are always born of misadventures, misfortune and suffering and yet when told in retrospect bring about the liveliest of mirth so let’s be courageous enough to delve in the recesses of our minds that we fear the most.

Secondly, why is it that we insist on sticking with ‘our own’ even when we are in Diaspora?
We refuse to venture outside our cultural boundaries when we live in a multi cultural society perhaps because we are suspicious of the other person, afraid that they may not understand us or maybe that we might lose our culture to them. I had numerous fights with my father, of blessed memory, because we differed greatly on this issue. He insisted that I marry from my own hometown and my argument was, if that was what he wanted then he should have kept me within the geographical confines of my hometown so that would be the only world I knew. Does common sense not tell us that the fact that we are in a larger field, say a city like Lagos, Abuja or New York not mean that we have a larger playing field to cater for all our needs; material and social? We are willing to ‘go out there’ and work with other communities to earn a living but when it comes to social interaction and friendship we shy away huddle together and probably miss out on great opportunities that could come our way. My brothers and sisters, let us use our tongues to count our teeth and find out what point the rain began pelting us. There are lots of good men and women out there, black, white, Asian, Ijaw, Yoruba, Igbo, Hausa, Fon willing to love us for who we are; our culture in tow. Let us not wash our faces with spittle while standing beside a river.

In summary I opine that self evaluation is one of the greatest luxuries we have. Like Thoreau said, “To thyself be true”. Singlehood is a reflective period where joy and fulfillment should emanate from so let’s learn from it. I’m tired, I want to go and sleep so have a great week everyone!