Month: April 2011

On Fela! and The Book Thief.

Published by Osemhen

First, FELA! Amazing. The dancing, the music, the sheer energy! Out of this world! The storyline itself, meh. But then again, I didn’t go to see Fela’s biography enacted. I went to see a Broadway production. And it was spectacular. The turn-out was lower than expected; I heard the play was shunned because peeps were miffed at the thought of a wholly American cast and (horror of horrors! *said in his pseudo-Nigerian accent*) an American/Haitian Fela. Haha! Please! Stop with the beef already. Why didn’t a Nigerian Director hit upon the idea? What stops a Nigerian from still producing a Fela play? Let’s face it: we let Fela die in our hearts, in our minds. He’s an international icon! They celebrate him, his music is taught in schools! And we, we rejected our prophet, reduced him to much less than a symbol. We forgot him and put him on the shelves, the back burner, the archives or wherever the hell it is we relegate our “heroes past”. It really is shameful that it took foreigners …

To Keep One’s Head While Everyone Loses Theirs a.k.a. The Absurdity of Political Correctness.

Published by Osemhen

I think the Westerners may just have lost the plot. About a month ago, a Christian couple in the UK lost an adoption bid in court. The judges ruled that precisely because they were Christian (read fundamental, traditional, politically incorrect bigots), they would no longer be allowed to adopt children in the UK. They feared that the couple would discourage homosexuality in their children, and might stifle any budding homosexuality tendencies children in their charge might develop. *Shrug* Not my business. Note to self: don’t try adopting children in the UK. Then about two weeks ago, the Australian Human Rights Commission, front runner for everything ‘politically-correct’ decided that gender could no longer be restricted to male or female. Check it, they now have twenty-three (23!) different genders. That’s right. In Australia, you can be transgender, trans, transsexual, intersex, androgynous, agender, cross dresser, drag king, drag queen, genderfluid, genderqueer, intergender, neutrois, pansexual, pan-gendered, third gender, third sex, sistergirl and brotherboy. (I just googled ‘neutrois’). Or you could be boring male/female. 😛 I’m not even going to …

For Tobi Ogunniyi. RIP

Published by Osemhen

It was a random tweet. My eyes skipped over it the first time. Returned to it a second time. Then it sunk. I made one phone call. It was true. It is true. And even though my eyes blur with furious tears, even though everything in me screams one big NO! It doesn’t change it. Tobi Ogunniyi is dead. And this doesn’t make any difference, but it is my tribute to a boy who was many things to many people. We went to the same primary school but I didn’t recognize him when we met in university. He was cool, boy he was cool. He could arch an eyebrow like a rock star and he had the sort of looks you’d associate with one too. Light skin, sculpted features. Tobi, teach me to arch my eyebrow, now. You either have it or you don’t, sweetheart. Tobi, with ready accomplices in Tarela and Kenzo, introduced me to the beauty of contemporary rock. He would play me song after song on his Discman for hours, right there …

Ugliest Girl In The World – Elaine Irabor

Published by Osemhen

On a lighter note, please welcome guest writer, the incorrigible Elaine! All opinions expressed herein are solely hers, and I”m hereby indemnified against any liabilities 🙂 For as long as I can remember, since I was old enough to be compared, (the instant I left that embarrassing A-cup stage), it’s been, ”Your Mommy is finer (sic) than you”. I smile and say thank you, at least it’s nice that one’s Mom isn’t an embarrassment. I try my hardest to ignore the second meaning, which is that a woman who has birthed four children, and is more than twice my age, still looks better than me, who’s supposedly in her prime. I got used to that though, and saying my thank yous that is until my little sister started growing breasts. I’d always known she was going to turn out better than me: It’s the curse of the first child to sit back and watch younger siblings get the best gene combinations. All the ”errors” in me are corrected in my little sister: My crowded teeth …

In Defence of the President

Published by Osemhen

I have been accused of being unnecessarily anti-establishment. I suppose I am, it’s the circles I run in these days; it’s fashionable to be contrary and leftist enough to alarm your parents. At home, I pontificate on why I’m not voting for X, Y and Z and why I’m voting A, B, or C. And my family watches me in a mixture of admiration and pity. Admiration from the ones who are ineligible to vote and who can’t wait to hold such ‘eloquent opinions’ on nation-building. And pity from the older ones. Pity. On Saturday, I proudly took my place at the polling booth to get accredited before the elections started. And behind me, a conversation started between two men, roughly my father’s age. The first announced that this was the first time he was voting since he arrived Lagos and that he’d registered to vote only because Dr. Goodluck Jonathan was running for President. If it had been yet another northerner running on the PDP platform, he’d not have bothered registering. He mentioned that …