All posts tagged: nigeria

2 Last Things and A Happy New Year

Published by Osemhen

It’s been a tumultuous year. In a good way and in a bad way. Good in the sense that I was always busy, meaning that I was never bored. Bad in the sense that I rode many emotional highs and lows, and I was often too busy to blog. But I’m here now at 19.52. Typing this on my phone, hoping it looks just as good on a PC. I want to talk about two things. First is what I call the “obligation of good manners” to one’s family. I was sounding off with one of my friends the other day and he said something along the lines of “If I can’t be comfortable and be myself at home with my family, then where can I be?” It was a pertinent question. Home is where we relax, we chill, we let our hair down. It’s where we’re accepted for who we are. But too many times, it’s where many of us display behavior we wouldn’t be caught in in public. We’re brought up to not …

Dear Random-Guy-Who-Asked-If-He-Could-Share-My-Mini-Umbrella-At-The-Busstop

Published by Osemhen

Dear Random-Guy-Who-Asked-If-He-Could-Share-My-Mini-Umbrella-At-The-Busstop, I don’t judge you for not having your own umbrella. I don’t even hesitate when you ask if you can share mine, despite seeing how small it is, and how it really is only meant to shelter one small person from the rain. Me. I don’t complain that I have to raise it really high now, to accommodate your hulk, or that my genuine L. Credi bag is now getting wet. I don’t complain because I’m only doing the Christian thing by sharing. There is love in sharing etc. etc. etc. However, you stretch my charity by presuming that because I’m sharing my umbrella, then I am open to conversation. Please understand. Do not feel obliged to fill the silence. It may not be companionable, but it is certainly not awkward. I was lost in my thoughts before you came along, I will continue to be lost in my thoughts. Your attempts at conversation are, at best, distractions. At worst, annoying. “It’s like you’re not in a good mood,” you say after giving …

On Punctuality

Published by Osemhen

Value : a person’s principles or standards of behavior; one’s judgment of what is important in life. (Oxford Dictionary) 3 weeks ago, I began a Leadership Development course. There were at least 40 of us, most of us Nigerian. Our instructors were Nigerian (Funmi), Australian (Britta) and Dutch (Ocke). I learnt a lot in that course; I might blog about my experience in the near future. Right now, though, I want to tell you about an incident that happened on Day 4 of the 5-Day course. But a little backtracking first. Day 1, and we all identified values that were most important to us. Ocke told us that his people, the Dutch, were very practical and blunt, and so he appreciated directness, respect for other people and punctuality. He laid quite a bit of emphasis on just how important punctuality was to him. How he always was punctual to his appointments out of respect for other people and their time, and expected them to return the courtesy. Long and short of the story, he extracted a …

The Importance of Being Earnest…Or Tolu – Tolu Talabi

Published by Osemhen

Continuing the TedPosts with one by Tolu Talabi. I met Tolu at the Farafina Creative Writing Workshop last year. I literally have no words to describe him but for an idea on how his mind works, follow him on Twitter @naijarookie or get on his blog http://naijarookie.wordpress.com. Seriously. Check out his blog. I don’t know if you saw this a few weeks ago. There was a two leg soccer match between the Under-17 female teams of Nigeria and Kenya. At the end of the first leg, which Nigeria won, the Kenyan team complained that Nigeria cheated because they had players that were over the age of 17. The Nigerian sports commentator reporting said (very smugly) that Kenya should stop making excuses for losing. I found the whole episode hilarious (Nigeria using under-aged players? No way!) but it got me thinking about age and how much we expect from people at a young age. You see, at 16, even if you’re not being called upon to play football for your country, you’re probably finishing up …

Broken – Joseph E. Parker

Published by Osemhen

I first “met” Joseph last year when I was sourcing for writers to write in for the soon-to-be-released City Issue of Klorofyl. I use the term “met” loosely. We met on Twitter, and even though we’ve been in correspondence for a while, we’re yet to meet in person. Joseph is a poet. There aren’t a lot of poets whose work I understand and appreciate, but I’m a big fan of his. His poems are uncommonly fluid and lucid, and I find them beautiful. I can’t tell you how pleased I was that he agreed to write in for this series and I recommend you stop by his blog when you’re done here. “Something’s missing,” John Mayer wrote, “and I don’t know what it is.” Something is missing. Something essential. Something necessary to making a difference in the world. And most are afraid to find out what it is. Why is this? Why do we feel this void within? We long for what we can’t have and inevitably grow disillusioned. Why should it come as …

On Missing Lagos

Published by Osemhen

You were born, bred and “buttered” in Lagos. It wasn’t that your parents consciously made the effort. Secondary school was incidental; the schools you applied to outside Lagos didn’t want you. Ditto, university. By the time NYSC rolled around, you weren’t interested in seeing the rest of the country. Lagos was home, and you couldn’t imagine leaving it for the hinterlands. You eventually left, though. Work made you. You figured at the time that it wasn’t a big deal; Lagos is an hour away by air. The new climate is wetter, but pretty much the same. The houses are the same, the people as well. The difference in accents is only there if one looks for it. You had friends, relatives who had been transplanted as well but they didn’t seem the worse for wear. You’ll be fine, they said, it’ll be fine. No one told you about the yen. You didn’t know you would be so sensitive, that you would miss the intangible; sleeping in your old bed, knowing your way around town, familiarity, belonging. …

How To Survive a Lumpectomy (32 Easy Steps)

Published by Osemhen

Don’t flinch when the doctor asks to examine you. Act like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like you regularly take off your top and bra for anyone who asks you. When he recommends a lumpectomy, shrug and say ‘Cool’. Because you are. Cool. You’re not a sissy, you do not shy away from pain or discomfort. Do not read Chioma’s article on the same subject. It will frighten you. Listen politely to your aunt who advocates that you pray away the lump instead of surgery. Pick a local anaesthesia over a general. Sometimes, people don’t wake up from the latter. Ask the doctor if you can take your iPod with you into the theatre, seeing as you’ll be awake. You might get bored. When he says yes, go home and prepare a surgery playlist. Tell your best friend you’re having a lumpectomy. Prepare to explain to her ignorant ass what a lumpectomy is. Tell other friends. Prepare to answer questions like, “You let a doctor feel you up? Did you like it? …

A Rather Lengthy Post on The Anthem

Published by Osemhen

Hola! Been a bit, how’ve you been? Okay, so I wrote this a couple of years ago for a magazine. I was a bit more idealistic, so forgive me if I come off a bit strong. 🙂 Arise O Compatriots Nigeria’s Call Obey To serve our fatherland With love and strength and faith The labour of our Heroes past Shall never be in vain To serve with heart and might One nation bound in freedom, peace and unity Humour me. If you’re under 25, try singing the 1st stanza of the national anthem without peeping at the page. Chances are, if you’re not in the uniformed forces (Police, Army etc.) or a school teacher, you won’t remember all the words. If you do, congratulate yourself. You are among the minority of Nigerian adults who remember the words that were drilled into them all those years ago in secondary school. A lot of theories have been propounded about why Nigeria is in the state she’s in. And here’s another for the debate. A popular adage says …

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 …

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 …