Author: Osemhen

There Be Dragons

Published by Osemhen

Even saints have a past. And in Roland Joffe’s new movie, There Be Dragons, he attempts to outline the past of one of the most controversial saints of the twentieth century, Josemaria Escriva, founder of Opus Dei. Yes, the one parodied in The Da-Vinci Code. It’s an epic film, set in Spain and revolving around the Spanish Civil War (time to get our history groove on!). A modern-day journalist, Robert, is trying to make up with his dying father, Manolo who fought in the war. Then he discovers that his father was a childhood friend of Josemaria who is, at the time, being considered for sainthood. Drum roll, please! I’ve only seen previews and heard about the movie on the grapevine. It hasn’t begun showing in the cinemas here yet (I hear they’ve begun previewing though) even though it was released May 6th. But I can gather from the trailer that There is a beautiful girl involved (as always). Manolo did something quite evil. Josemaria was quite brave, reaffirming his identity as a priest in times …

I Was Going To Write A Story (Really!)

Published by Osemhen

So I plugged in  my trusty Azure (she’s a solid black HP, not blue like her name says), booted her up and opened a new page in MS Word. My story was quite a simple one. A love story. A heroine. A hero. Boy meets girl. Crisis. Attraction. Love. Marriage. The End. Your typical M&B. Only Nigerian. My heroine was called Edel. Short for Edelokun. Edelokun means The river can’t ever be greater than the sea. A typical Ishan name. Wantonly boastful. I liked the name Edel, still do. It sounds exotic, doesn’t it? I mean, a girl called Edel, what would she look like? You see? Edel, however, did not like her name. “It sounds French, Osemhen. I prefer Elokun. It’s a more appropriate name for a proud, black, African woman.” And just like that she went from being a slightly light-skinned, tall, slim, size 6 chick with a fantastic Brazilian weave to being the colour of burnt sugar, with a size 14 figure and a full head of beaded dreadlocks tied up in …

To My Network Provider

Published by Osemhen

Dear Network Provider, Hi. Odd, isn’t it, how my text messages bounce back but the ones that political parties send me, the ones that you send me, manage to find their way to my inbox. Odd that. Odd, isn’t it, that you advertise a certain “bundle” for a certain amount and then when I register for it, I find out that the associated data allowance has been conveniently discontinued. Odd that. Odd, isn’t it, that data-sapping Snaptu opens Facebook and Twitter effortlessly but my phone’s browser will not open Gmail or Yahoomail on pain of death. Really odd that. It’s odd that you persist in inundating me with ads that advertise all sorts of call rates to all sorts of people. And yet, I cannot find out how to set up my voicemail without navigating, in endless circles, syrupy voice prompts. Odd that. It’s odd that I spend the entire morning trying to download a 125kB document and then you have the effrontery to send me a text message that my time limit of 100 …

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 …

The Heroes of Lagos

Published by Osemhen

In a sense, it was my fault. I must have hit the snooze button on my alarm like ten times before I finally convinced myself that I did not have malaria and so did not have a valid excuse not to get the hell up and go to work. Enter Power Ranger mode. Showered, dressed in less than ten minutes. Decided to switch hand-bags. Dumped the contents of the black one into the brown one. Snatched my laptop, pocketed my phone and then out the door. Luckily, I got a bus almost as soon as I got to the bus-stop. Sigh. Seemed like I would be on time after all. Five minutes into the journey, the conductor asks for the customary 100 naira fare. I open my bag and without looking in, begin feeling around for my wallet. No show. Irritated, I look in. Sunglasses, check. Make-up, check. Notebook, check. Earphones, check. Pen, check. Handkerchief, check. WHERE THE HELL IS MY WALLET? My heart had started a weird rhythm in my chest by now. Thud. …

Open Letter To The First Lady

Published by Osemhen

Auntie Patience, Good mornin’, ma. I know say you no sabi me. My name na Osemhen, and I get one business wey I wan make we discuss. D tin consan the campaign wey you dey helep our Presido, Uncle Jo and all im ‘umblerra’ friends do. Auntie, you try. Even though you no too sabi English, you dey make effort. You dey try relate wit your pipul, try console dem. But dem be ingrate! You know say for dis we kontri, pipul plenty wey get bad mouth. Na so dem go sidon, dey laff wetin you talk wen you give speech. Instead make dem understand the message wey you get for mind, dem go dey find mistake for the English. Dem laff wen you talk say Uncle Jo and Bros. Namadi “is good people.” Even say the English no beta, shey dem no sabi say you been wan say Uncle Jo and Bros. Namadi na beta person? Which one come hard for dere? Abi, na the one wen you talk say “the people sitting before …