My Life

I'M Falling Deeper And Deeper...

2008-07-09T11:10:00.002+01:00

July is not the best month for me. Although it is a month I should be celebrating, it also has happened to be the month I weep a lot.

July has dealt with me in a mixed approach. It is my birth month, but also, it is the month I lost my dearest mother. And ever since 12 years ago, July has remained a period of lowest feeling for me no matter how much I try to ride over and above it.

I think that my failure is because it has become the last month in my persona year calendar. Thus it is a month I take stock, review and re-check my life. In so doing, I end up visiting things I have overlooked and ignored over the years which ends me up in the pit of my life.

While wallowing in my own self-pity, I completely will always refuse to give in. I hang onto the walls of the pit refusing to drop down. But how long? I have normally reach the level of considering suicide, but I have always seen that thought as foolish and silly. But again, how long? I like to face consequences, I like to see things to the end, and so, I don’t see myself shying away via suicide. But I do worry about that thought.

I worry because having studied mental health, I am aware that such actions can go by in a twinkle of an eye. But I will not submit. As I write this, I have refused to stay away from people because I don’t feel like talking to anyone, and I recognise that could be the door to self-harm. Writing this also helps me empty out; well, not completely but some fumes get out.

My lowest will come on the 14th when the whole exit of my dearest mother replays in my head. Her sufferings and no reaping make me feel completely useless and I ask myself, why am I earning? My highest wish was to support her while she rests from all the struggles of bringing me up. My school fees, my feeding, clothing, etc. But she is not there to reap the fruits of her enormous labour. It is awful.

I will arise now and get out of this little room. I will try to smile; I will try to hold on. But there is a lot more in this than loosing my mother.

SOS - I hate The Heat

2008-07-01T14:56:00.001+01:00

Blimey!!! This weather is killing me. I need to be rich so as to avoid this heat, its becoming unbearable. 27 Degree Centigrade today, what will it be by peak summer???

Some one save my soul pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!!!

Fourth Day In Germany - Leipzig

2007-07-24T02:05:00.000+01:00

Monday morning, I visited the Alliens’ office to register. My friend has never left me and again he accompanied me. I think his ever abiding presence gave me a sense of complacency as I do not have to struggle to buy things, or interact with people. He speaks for me and interprets when necessary.

After the registration, we went home and had a good meal and rested. We then called up his girlfriend and borrowed her bike for another tour of Leipzig since she is studying for her exams, I had use of the bike and it was lovely to cycle round the city again going up north and into the forest housing the zoo. We also visited the Völkerschlachtdenkmal, which is a huge Egyptian styled memorial of the Battle of Nations in 1813 with Napoleon (French), Poland and Saxons (today southern Germany) on one side and Austria, Prussia (what consists of today’s northern Germany), Russia and Sweden, on the other. And having come via the old GDR trade fair places, we continued to the old royal court of justice, the Reichsgerichts building which now is used as the Federal court of Administration. From here we passed the Arena and head to the Stadium of the 100,000 and on into the forests again circuiting it to come out to Science Museum and unto the centre.

As I have always heard and read in books about Vienna instead, we found an orchestra playing outside in the yard of the Thomasshule where J.S.Bach worked as part of the composer’s memorial. We enjoyed the melody and had a rest in the garden and when the rain threatened, ran home.

Third Day In Germany - Berlin

2007-07-23T01:00:00.000+01:00

Part of Markus planned itinerary is to visit Berlin. Although Sunday didn’t look quite tolerating of tourists, we set out in his car again towards the city. It was over 2 hours driving.

Parking was easy but the rain isn’t giving up. The Bradenburg Tor (gate) was majestically standing in the rain, bidding us to come but the rain was discouraging us from leaving the car. We finally heeded to the former and walked in the rain to the gate, checked for information from the info office and decided to buy a local day travel card as against our plan of biking in the city.

From the front of the Reichstag (parliament), we caught a bus and went far east into the old Berlin of the GDR days. It was touching to see the places that lived in the restrictions of the Communist rule. By midday, the rain gave up and the day smiled a bright sun. We went in search and rented our bikes. Thus began the tour. From the Berlin west end street of Kurfürstendamm, an equivalent of London’s oxford street, we toured the rest of the city, as far as no tourist does. We ate lunch from a Lebanese kebab down south in an entirely local area just close to templehoff.

After a long day cycling the whole city, we rested infront of the old Prussian castle and left the city by 10pm. Another beautiful day made possible by a wonderful friend. Berlin also is damn neat I felt ashamed of London.

Second Day In Germany - The Beautiful Countrysides

2007-07-22T00:45:00.000+01:00

It is Saturday morning. Markus has planned out a nice itinerary for me. Since we both worked together in planning this visit, I wasn’t as much surprised as I was delighted. Today, we are going to visit his parents in the village for lunch.

We set out after the morning hours to Kemberg, arriving a little after noon, we rested and had a sumptuous lunch. After a good siesta, the first of its type this year for me, we went cycling round the countryside between the farms and the forests. It felt so natural, as we did a 4hour over 50kilometers across a lot of villages. In all, I never felt any aggression from anyone. For the villagers who were bold enough, a hello was said and some, it was obviously refreshing (did I say refreshing?) and what seems a surprise, to see a Blackman; and one feeling at home as I was in my sports knickers and sleeveless white top, the normal bandana on my head and a sunshade goggles.

Finishing, we got home, took our showers and went for dinner; another massive meal. Took some pictures and left. Markus parents gave me gifts of wafers, chocolates and his mum gave me a small plastic measuring cup. I accepted it all especially the last as a souvenir. The cake by his grandmother was also exceptionally delicious and we got a good chunk for take-away. Then we went off to Wittenberg.

The old Schloss kirche where Martin Luther studied and started his revolution, the statues of the man himself and his friend Melanchton occupied the Wittenberg town hall square. After some pictures, we set on our back to Leipzig. It was midnight when we arrived. What a fabulous day made possible by my good friend.

Orientation in Leipzig

2007-07-20T18:40:00.000+01:00

Markus took me round the city a bit. The first was to the peak of the tallest building – the MDR tower – 30 floors – and showed me where is what and what is where. We went to the main central train station, the Leipzig Hauptbanhof. Also we went to Nikolai Kirche (church) and then visited the Thomas Kirche (Church) where John Sebastian Bach worked for the last 27 years of his life and composed most of his songs.

Arriving Leipzig today, two things exceptional struck me. First is the too many dilapidated buildings; and second is the neatness of the German city. From what I can understand, the rundown buildings were the product of the division of Germany and since the re-unification; it has not all been rebuild.

On the other hand, the city seems so neat you may not worry eating from the floor. Those houses that aren’t run-down look neat. Graffiti also seem to thrive in it but majority in a well-planned state. I fell head over heels in love with the neatness and broad streets.

As the day goes and we shopped for grocery, I discovered that supermarkets do not hand out bags of any type as well. Also, some plastic and other glass bottles are returned to the supermarkets and put through a machine which pays the owner. The truth, on my first day in Germany, is that I was so impressed; I wished I can speak the language and live here.

First day is over.

Arrival In Germany

2007-07-20T18:31:00.000+01:00

As usual, Ryanair touched down at Altenburg with the same rough runway contact as if this is an emergency landing. The old military airport can best be described as deserted; only our plane turned it into a supposed useful one.

Since I got only a hand luggage, having changed my mind from using my allotted 15kg when I discovered that the damn greedy(?) Irish airline now charges 10 godamn pounds for any checked in luggage, I went straight to the immigration officer. Well, as it should happen – not really – I felt in a sort of trance or dream or confusion or what/whichever it was because I first joined the crowd from the flight to stand at the conveyor waiting for luggage until it registered on my mind that I have my bag.

First confusion gone, I approached the immigration gate – mind you, as this is a small, almost disused airport, the immigration point no more than a gatekeeper’s office in a bus garage; so, reader, you can imagine my confusion and when compared to the chaos one is used to in the land of everything called London, you can agree with me that I have every right to be confused, etc – the immigration lady spoke in what isn’t friendly but yet not hostile manner; I stared blank. She said some more, I recovered from my confused foolish state and responded, ‘sorry, I don’t speak German…’ she went on; trying to convince me that she is speaking English. Well, I woke up and apologized, flashing my charming smile, her ready-to-use anger vaporised as she fell under my magic.

Green passport presented, her demeanour added suspicion – talk of attending to a Nigerian, - she instantly recalled all she has been taught in handling ‘Nigerian’ passport I supposed – but who cares – pushed it under several parts of her counter as I, full of my inbuilt confident, stood waiting for any wrong suggestion; none. In what seem like a flash, it was over although the guy before me – a supposed American I think, spent less than a flash of time with her after same English-German confusion – I was grateful this isn’t same harrowing protocols of London airports. Come with me.

11 Years After Mum, You Remain Fresh In MY Mind

2007-07-14T03:51:00.000+01:00

11 years on, I still cannot forget that day, nor can I forget you mum. I bet it’s the worst day of my life so far. It was a normal hot day, you were there in the beginning of it, and by the end of it, you were gone. Gone, to come back no more. I still find it difficult to believe, I wish I can set back the hands of the clock.

Mum, I spent my whole life with and by you. We shared dishes, walk hand in hand, slept on the same bed even during your illness and long stay in the hospital, your sick bed was my sleeping place. In my seventeen years before you left me, I did not spend a total of 1 year away from you. And when you left me, I have felt and missed you every day ever; its horrible.

Everyone says you watch me, but I don’t believe it. If you do, I’m sure you know I have got off the church bandwagon you put me on. And since I have, well, I cant really agree to the dead living again in hell or heaven. In a nutshell, I mean I don’t believe you are watching me because the dead is dead. But I still say, sleep well dear mother. I will remember you always, as I sit here and reminisce on your departure on this 11th anniversary, it feels like today, I feel like the time is drawing near when you shut off the world and left me to carry on.

Rest in peace sweet mother.

My 2007 BirthDay Wishlist.

2007-07-04T23:41:00.000+01:00

2007 Birthday List It’s my birthday again this year come 26 July, and below are the things I would love for a present if you feel so interested in giving me one. All the same, I must reiterate that a gift is not necessary but pure, sincere and original good wishes from the heart. This is just for a guide, you can still give whatever your generous heart insist on; I don’t mind.

A pair of black shoes (size 45/UK 11)
Digital Video Camera
External Hard Drive (250GB or higher)
A nice portrait of the Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II
Black Jean trousers (size 32)
A wireless Router
Adobe Premier professional software
Tickets to BBC Proms
Ticket to last night of The Proms
Current Version of Encyclopaedia Britannica
More Bandanas (I can never have enough)
More Anglican Chants/Hymns CDs (see my wishlist for clarification)
Oh! And white briefs of course (my size? 32 or small; sorry you may not see me wear them though).

Well, I am still considering a small meal, but I don’t think that will be possible as I come back from Germany one day before… May be we have to wait until my 30th

Paris Is Actually Beautiful

2007-04-26T01:23:00.000+01:00

Since my legs hindered me from seeing much yesterday, I have made a new resolution to cover up today. Yea, by fire and by force, I must.

So I have left the hotel by half-Ten. First I called at another church: Sacre-Coeur. Its built on a hill. Marvellous is the only word I can find to describe it. Unfortunately, cameras are not allowed inside but I had good time within its premises.

Next stop was the Arc de Triomph. Beautiful area. Although people had a-washed my ears of the beauty of Paris, I still refused to be sentimental I see things myself. At this juncture, I can’t but accept it’s a beautiful city.

I met a Colombian man here who instantly partnered me cos he need good photograph; so do I. He persuaded me to walk (instead of Train) to Eiffel Tower; we did. I didn’t climb it at last due to a long queue, which I don’t trust my damned leg to obey. We parted as I head to Grand Palaice, then National Assembly, Champ d Elyses (which unfortunately I cant remember a thing about). Here my battery ran out and no pictures, also my legs which I have ignored all along was beginning a bitter protest, so… home it must be.

Rested and refreshed, I went out again, this time to Bibliotheque du National Francais. Here again, I accepted that Paris is a damsel. I left and head to the world famous Louvre, not inside but the surrounding. There is another Arc there which for heaven-knows-what, I can’t remember the name. Ate the wrong sandwich and decided to sit down and rest. Then I head back to sit at the Town Hall Square beside the fountain, reading and letting the vapour from the water cool me down. It was late when I left for my hotel again.

One more night to go, stay with me.

The Last Day In Paris.

2007-04-25T22:47:00.000+01:00

Its my last day here… I cant wait to go back. It’s not cos I don’t like it here, no, I do. Fact is I never felt I left London at all; don’t know why. I feel so much at home in Paris that I cant remember I am visiting. But because I missing my internet connection, and all the good thing an own-home offers, I don’t like it much.

Anyway, I woke up early having said I must see the damn ‘Mona Lisa’ frame. My train is for 1pm so I decide to check out and take my things with me. I had my shower, packed and paid. Off I go. First call was the Louvre Musee. The crowd today wont deter me. I joined the queue, got through the search – mild one though – and bought a ticket. It’s a massive place dear. The entrance to the Mona Lisa apartment has the worst queue you can think of. It is being cordoned off by now and the queue is stopped. So I quickly checked out the map and notice that I can still see the famous art through another department, so off I go. Got through and wandered off in search of it. With so much to see along, I kept stopping but watching my time.

Finally, I am in the place; but awwww…. Disappointed! Such a tiny photograph? The room is crowded, feels double a room temperature and I instantly felt hot, and irritated too. Irritated at the way so many people just stood or trampling on each other to look at it. Not that it is not visible, it is. Security men are there, notice banning cameras seems like part of the arts that make up the room. The other real arts must feel jealous as no one looks at them. Having seen the piece, I turned and left almost as soon as I entered: job done; I have seen it at last.

I now head towards the train station. Arriving, I checked to find my platform, and then went for lunch. Time up, I went through the immigration and boarded my train. Ooops! I’m exhausted. I cant wait to be in London. As the clock struck1pm, the driver engaged the engine, and off we go towards my lovely London.

Farewell Paris, I will see you again sometime.

Let's See Paris...

2007-04-25T01:02:00.000+01:00

Oh well! Today I was out and about. Paris turned to be hotter than I expected; I mean, hotter than London actually.

Well, as is my custom to see a cathedral in any city I go, I visited the Notre Dame Cathedral today. Took some pictures and wandered around. As usual, there were too many people about. What keeps coming up in my mind is the way I see tourists in London – eccentric I think. So my thought dwelt on the amount of people and why they are there.

Anyway, although I am not physically crippled, I am no better than a cripple due to my constant leg problem. So by 3pm, my legs were weak from walking, and feeling hot did not help the matter; I have to run back to the hotel.

I did get enough photos though. Having seen the Paris Town Hall and the cathedral, the entire Hotel de Ville area, I succumbed to the weak leg and found myself in the hotel. Stayed indoors for the rest of the day till I was forced to eat rubbish MacDonald’s by about 11pm.

That’s over; until tomorrow. Come with me…

Is This Paris?

2007-04-24T01:06:00.000+01:00

I have just walked out the Eurostar in Gare du Nord, Paris and for the first time in my life, I felt more confused than elated as I had left London. There are no much people like in London Waterloo, nor does it look so techno-modern; no. But these are not my actually confusion. I will tell you what.

Although my ticket and passport was checked at London before departure, I expected same or at least, some sort of immigration but nothing. So with that expectation dashed, I felt like I had mised the first gate, so I felt I’m gate crashing and therefore was surprised to find myself entirely at my own whims and freedom. Blimey!

Anyway, looking perturbed, it felt like a burden to know what to do next. So I walked on expecting any of the many security ‘things’ – sorry, they were soldiers, police, station security men, etc – to talk to me, but I was rather confronted by some criminal looking kids, standing all over, of both sexes. Two young girls approached me first in a seducing manner; sorry, wrong candidate; confusion growing. Then it was the boys, malignantly thuggish. I quickly pocketed my new Nokia N95 which I have popped out to snap, text or call.

Hang on! It wasn’t the end. I gave the boys the face they needed; I grew up in one of the most notorious cities in the world, so… But walking pass them, the worst that took my confusion to its climax and swallowed it was the stench that greeted me outside the ‘international’ train station. It’s totally disgusting and had it not been for the blanket of ‘western world’, it wasn’t different from the stench that would rise from water drainages of African cities.

I walked-ran to get by, but it seems as the coat of the entire frontage of the station until I went to the far end. In the fresh air that greeted me, my brain seems to retract and the confusion gradually started to lift. I stood there for minutes on end, drinking water every other second and fiddling with my phone trying to cover up my ‘just arrived’ appearance so as not to attract more hooligans. I won. Back in the station after over half an hour, I was able to relax, found a free wireless – thanks to Nokia – I browsed and had my first coffee sitting at a café in the damned station. One hour after I got off the train, I am recollected and was able to set on my journey.

Come with me.

The Freak Side Of Me

2007-04-20T02:14:00.000+01:00

Last week, as Nokia finally let out the long awaited N95, I launched my attack on acquiring one. But to be specific, I meant attack and acquire in a practical aspect since I have apparently sourced for mine the first time in January when it was extensively reviewed and announced as coming out in April.

So, I got two at last and have to send back the Orange one as O2 finally made up their nonsense mind that I deserve one. The phone is worth all the noise and I’m in love with it – as I am wont to be. When I came home, my loyal 4GB N91 was packed and kept away; I cant believe it. Now it’s resting in the drawers and awaiting judgement – sorry I aint giving it out this time. Lets enjoy the N95 first.

The 5Mega Pixel camera means that I no more worry about owning a basic camera and the strong wi-fi now assures me that I wont need to take my notebook along for those very urgent and important emails and containing applications that lets me read ‘most wanted’ MS-Word and PDF files, what else can an internet freak like me ask for. My diary stays with me as always, no need for £1 alarm clock; I can zip files, and even install a wireless printer on it, - don’t I deserve one? A thought for birthday gift, admirers… And talk of cycling and stopping to check the maps, not any more, N95 comes with a full 3D GPS map; wao!!! And even search engine. Men, this is the real thing.

So, for the time being, lets rock while the music rolls. Till next, Nokia… so long.

Unique Inspiration - Christopher & Obi Okigbo

2007-04-12T12:14:00.000+01:00

I have just came in from the School of Oriental and African Studies where an Exhibition of Christopher Okigbo’s poetries and his daughter’s paintings is holding. I am not a fan of paintings as most of them, especially the ones without forms do not give me any message, but I find poetries quite intriguing and full of messages. I also like ‘meaningful’ paintings as they speak much to me too.

This being the first time I am deliberately attending an Art Exhibition, I had gone without expectation. After reading the little pamphlet that explained the entire exhibition, something rang in my head at how unique lives can be linked. As it had been at Jan’s suggestion to go, we have met up and trundled there together. He is always a good company. We had looked at one of the paintings which is called ‘Age of Innocence’ and Jan had been singing on it how that I should interpret poetry to him as he cant get his head round them while I said so of paintings. But this particular paintings had a lot of message for me. I had an interpretation and thought.

How is Obiageli Okigbo able to ‘work’ with a father that died when she was just two. That was the uniqueness because the nearby poem (cant remember the name) had a message that could relate to the painting although it was written ages before the near-to abstract painting. That is my wonder but my happiness as I laughed at the mysteryness of life.

Two hearts that lived in separate generation and that had barely known each other, are creating something tangible and beautiful together. Christopher’s poems speak prophetically, Obi’s paintings portray myths. And when she read his fathers ‘Labyrinth’ and started weeping, I knew they have a link regardless of the separation between life and death. Then she said, ‘My father’s writings inspires me’. I believe her.

Rambling! Rambling!! Rambling!!!

2007-04-10T18:09:00.000+01:00

The days never stop counting, so does our life never end until it stops. And so the days I have spent being worried had all gone by and never will come again. But how did I realise this?

I am one of those who do not believe in laying out plans; or better put, churning out plans of where to be and what to do… far from it. I live minute after minute and dedicated to giving attention to others. And this, in no way is dearly beloved intimate attention; but a simple affection that makes most people that come my way, think twice.

In the recent past, I have been embarrassed at the rate so many people, friends and strangers alike told me that sitting or interacting with me gives them inner peace. I blushed really. But while I kept on bring peace to distraught hearts, and happiness to troubled minds, my worry mounted pressure on me from two sides. Nevertheless, I live much happily than could be suspected considering how materially poor I am… am I?

But Sunday was a nice day. Fairly planned, it was hugely successful. After sitting in the sun keeping Philipp company as he try to get as tanned as me… lol, we found ourselves thinking movie, and choosing to see wasn’t difficult. 300 was brilliantly written.

Thereafter, we still thought it was too early to go home and ended up in Kudos sipping drinks while chatting away. And over an hour, we had been quite chilled and I particularly felt fulfilled and satisfied and knew it was good day.

Then I cycled home.

What I Have Been Doing

2007-03-01T14:03:00.000Z

For days, in fact weeks now, I have not been able to write anything on any of my blogs. I have received a few emails and verbal queries over the phone from dear ones who – I shall take it as concern – tried to find out what the matter is/are.

But a lot has been happening, with me running round like a headless chicken. Some of my friends think I should slow down while I think I am not doing much yet. Ironies you might say.

At the moment, I have to take time off from Scope – the charity for people with cerebral palsy – where I volunteer to focus more on the Mental Health Research which I’m volunteering also as a team member. It has been awesome, I have really learnt a lot working with various experienced people in the charity sector and I’m loving it every step of the way. So far, we are writing the reports and its going well.

Also the time off helped me to concentrate on my college project as well as write my thesis to acquire the certificate in Mental Health and Community engagement, a fall out of the Research which makes it even more profitable to me.

As for Foundation for Public Service Interpreting, my voluntary help to them is mainly part-time sort of, but I have to make myself available if and when they need me too.

Last week, through UKC, I was engaged to facilitate a workshop by NAHIP on HIV awareness and working with my Research Co-ordinator, I learnt a lot and loved it. Pretty much my life is just rotating around these works and I feel the more fulfilled helping out in these things. Every step taken in them seem to clear my way towards a real goal in my life which is to help and empower the helpless.

My main objectives and wish now is to empower the weak by practically lending my inner strength to the less-confident whose life has been shattered by HIV and other weakening conditions. I long for a world where justice and fairness, care and concern will rule and the poor empowered and not fed out of the spoon of insult and indignation.

An Unconditional Love

2007-02-11T13:15:00.000Z

I have this tradition of listening to a set of programs every Sunday; and since I stopped going to church, I have actually been able to listen and watch the exact things I wished.

The first is the Sunday Worship on BBC Radio 4. Although you might wonder what a non-Christian, non-religious person is doing listening to Sunday Worship; but the truth is Christian worship, especially that of the Anglican church which I’m conversant with, still appeals to me more than anything. ‘A Point of View’ follows – and today’s about plastic surgery was fabulous – then the news in brief from the Broadcasting House for ten minutes and I switch to the BBC 1 TV to see Sunday AM – politics and follow is up with ‘Heaven and Earth’.

So, by 11am when these gadgets was supposed to go off today as usual, I tried to flip around to find any current affairs; and ran into this wonderful programme on Channel 4 called HollyOaks, I got hooked.

It was a soap I reckon, but what got my attention was the row that broke out from one of the characters realising his sexuality and having a hard time to accept it – or be accepted as the case also seems. He lived in fear and denial and doesn’t know what to do. But my heart was taken when his mum quizzed and I felt a mother’s affection. It was different from all other people who had tried to get something from him. She was furious and calm, demanding and suiting and encouraging; a mother’s love.

It made me wish I have a mother. It made me wish I have love. It made me wish there is someone somewhere who could show such love as that of a mother; not a lustful one. But love that is angry but caring, love that is offended but pitying, love that is pissed but understanding… and I mean, just PURE UNCONDITIONAL love.

My Love Of The Queen: My New Collection

2007-01-30T14:23:00.000Z

Well, my love of the Her (I prefer to use‘MY’) Majesty seems not to be anywhere near to a wishing end; and I bet it never will end. Like it or not, I’m a royalist and particularly admires the queen. I think matters relating to her is the only thing you need to trap me.

So yesterday, after a hard hectic day doing the usual things, I ended up in Waterstone’s Bookshops at Piccadilly, purely to find 2 books: ‘The God Delusion’ and ‘Perfume’. But guess what I came out with? Well, I bet you suspect by now.

Roaming through the books store and not seeing any staff to enquire about my target books from, and remaining on the ground floor as I was expecting to meet up with a friend, I ran into an amazing publication: ‘HAPPY & GLORIOUS’, that’s it.

It’s a beautiful high quality glossy book containing 80 images of the queen to mark her birthday last year. Oh my!!! It was gorgeous and although my budget was for the mentioned books, I instantly cannot mutter the urge to leave My Majesty’s pictures there. I picked it and paid for it. It’s worth it and I am proud of it.

I am still hoping that when I get my own place, I will dedicate 1 complete side of wall in my lounge/sitting room to Queen Elizabeth II as a shrine. I bet you must be reeling in laughter as well as wondering why… its not your business. But am happy to receive things on her; pictures, books, any collectibles as a gift… because, I admire and adore my Queen.

God save my Queen.

I Want To Club... Any Up 4 The Taking?

2007-01-18T13:59:00.002Z

Today I woke up feeling I want to let loose. Thing is, I feel like dancing in a crowded place. Don’t really know why but I’m just feeling that way.

Although I dance lots when I am alone and not being over-run by the thought of that special person, even yesterday night until I went to bed by 2:30am this morning, I was just dancing and having a merry time. Woke up and the urge got stronger and the word CLUB crept up and been nagging me: ‘go to a club and get the mood sprayed’. Mhh…

So, if you want to, and if you think you know, I need a recommendation and well, I won’t mind company too. But the criterion is that you must be ready to throw the steps; you must be ready to shake that body and let the sorrows go. I have spoken to Ali and he wants to try it out on Friday but he, like me doesn’t know a thing about Clubs either. So see, there are 2 ‘up for grabs’; we need to dance and for me, I want to dance till I quench.

Today Thursday and tomorrow Friday, give a shout people!

2007-01-18T13:59:00.001Z

After The Frenzy... Begin Again (B.A.)

2007-01-09T02:38:00.000Z

As opposed to the Christian hymn which says, “Count your blessings, name them one by one…”; the whole frenzy of Christmas is gone and majority are counting their loss and naming them by the trailer loads… sorry.

Like I said below, most people only recover from the madness to wish they haven’t embarked on such dream world tour and all, but what can they do. In England, the funniest part of Christmas to me is the buying and logging of Christmas tree by men. Its funny but its emotional. It shows the love, et al.

Saturday, 6th January was the last day of the 12 days of Christmas and it seems everyone has come to their senses. At work today, the restaurant struggled to make money. It was so boring we thought there is cut off for traffic towards us. Well no, I knew it was just the first signs of the regrets, the bankruptcies, the empty wallets, the overdrawn accounts, the limit-exceeded credit cards, etc. So now, like one of my vicars, Captain Olusoji jokes about, “everyone’s earned a B.A. – Begin Again.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year; unfortunately, Begin Again.

Christmas; What's It For You & Me?

2006-12-25T14:49:00.000Z

It is Christmas today. Although I recently opted out of christianity, I still so much love the celebration and all its pomp. But far from it, I like is because it has become a particular time in present life, where more than most of the dwellers of the world, tend to unify regardless of religion or faith/belief.

Celebrating Christmas therefore, should not become political as it is turning. And so when the Bishop of Rochester, Michael Nazir-Ali, said Christmas was in danger of being destroyed by "thoughtless bureaucracy and the desire to be politically correct". Also that there are people in "Whitehall and town hall... who want to write Christ out of Christmas altogether". (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/6207593.stm - last 2 paragraph); I really identify with him on that and think that no matter how much we wish to participate in christmas, we must (or should) retain the acknowledgement of the reason for the whole affair and not try to hijack it.

Having said that, this Christmas isnt any different to me than many others gone by. I last joined in the noise or rampage of Christmas contortion when I was 12 in 1991. Back in my country Nigeria, it is a time of sort of pilgrimage when, especially those from the southeastern part, being dominantly Christians, engage in a massive home going which usually results in unprecendentious road carnages. But not only that, like in Britian, - and I suppose, all over the world - the massive waste of food that follows. I hate them all. The mad rush is more annoying and the whole superficial pretenses claiming peace where there is none. In the whole dangling and jingling of estactic jiggles, we forget the real world and embark on a journey of fantasy, of gift sharing without hearts, of card spreading without meaning, of food wasting without thinking. And thus most wake up after the whole illusion to find their bank account bleeding from the central vein junction, and debts clawing from all sides.

Annoying to me is that while we do all these nonsense, we entirely forget that there are those who havent got the pleasure of a healthy life, of an own home, of parents or children. The miserables. And yet, we seem satisfied to buy unwanted things, to cause unreasonable electric bills by operating so many decorations, etc. I mean the whole frenzy is uncalled for.

Anyway its opportunity to be thankful and accept that one has survived a period. So as we rejoice and celebrate, let us not forget reason or think it is the end; far from it, it is the beginning.

As it is, I am here by myself. Thanks to most of my friends who cared enough to invite me over, Mark, John, William, Betty, Charles and Paul, etc. But, in my mid 20s, I think my life is more about spending these sort of times alone. It gives me enormous space to relax or concentrate. I spent my birthday alone also.

When Sorrow Cut Through The Soul...

2006-12-13T20:47:00.000Z

When sorrow cut through the mind. It is like a crushing stone of insurmountable weight, grinding and giving no space for air. And, not only that; the feeling is a dreary, indescribable multiple grating in motion, spiky with thorns and hot with pepper. You burn and wish it never happened; but you are in it.

You are in it, and no matter how much you try to get out, the weight is more than you can challenge. You are sapped, denied of breath, you can’t but gasp and choke, writhing, all effort amounting to nothing, yes; just nothing. Because the stone is bigger than you; but you are under it.

You are under it; That’s how Uche’s death left me. I cannot say Uche’s death without crying. My tears aren’t quenching. My heart is wrenched, my veins are flaccid. I am gasping, summoning all the self-strength I can, but this is no case for braveness.

This is no case for braveness; I try so much with great effort to smile, but it takes the whole power in me to come by. Thanks to Philipp and Andrew, they have both been superb. Their support is quite immeasurable. Just want to say I’m sorry I seem not to be responding, but it’s hard to. Not when you lost a stranger who mystified stranger-ness. Philipp has done every thing he can; Andrew can detect even on the phone that I am not my normal self. But its beyond me. I cant outride this; not as quickly.

Not as quickly; he has been buried last Saturday, and that alone breaks me down. It worsens my frustration. That I wasn’t there, I didn’t see him, and never again will see him. I will miss him, forever I will miss him like I have missed my mum this past 10 years. Its awful good ones never last. Rest in peace dear brother, rest in the peace as you championed in life. I am peaceful to a limit but you have no limit. Everyone and anyone can do whatever to you. But it’s always lets forget it, lets leave it. That was you. “Goddy, don’t worry, forget. There is another time”. Your voice cannot stop ringing in my head. I know you wont like to see me in this state, but I am so weak I cannot mend my seared heart. I will miss you. Thanks for all you were to me; and still remain. I will make your memory live with me forever. Adieu.

One Good Thing I hate

2006-12-06T02:02:00.001Z

Its always me doing things the other way round. Sometimes I wonder if I am mad or, no, I am really mad but my real wonder is that I actually feel mad when always, my taste is in the reverse. Anyway, I have decided to say it loud and hear what you have to say.

You know what, every one loves shopping, or well, everyone pretends to love it and tends to hint on it when they shop. But it’s not so with me. I hate shopping; from groceries to buying shoes, clothes, books, you name it. I hate shopping because I get blurred sight when I walk into a shop. Everything turns drab and I end up confused on what to pick. It;s tiring and its annoying. You may not know, but that’s why I love the and is addicted to internet. I know what I want and on the internet, I can hit and dump it in my basket, pay up and forget it. The postman worries for the rest.

I hate shopping not because I do not like to spend the money but because that’s the only thing I do and suffer from indecision. The shoe looks better than the other and the other top is longer but too short and the other food contain more nuts but less whatever than the one with less nuts but high in fat, bla bla bla.

My approach then, identify a shirt I love and ask whoever is wearing where he bought it, go there, pick it, rush to the counter pay and quickly run away. But more the worst, I hate to wear new collections. Rubbish, they don’t feel like mine; my sister use to beat me to wear new clothes when I was a child especially when she bought then, which was common although I’m getting better as an adult. Just only getting better anyway.

UCHE, I Will Miss You Forever

2006-11-29T21:10:00.001Z

When I woke up last Wednesday with tears in my eyes, having seen an aeroplane crash from taking off into the sky and bursting into flames, little did I know that I have been warned. I prayed for all travellers regardless of travelling means. But one more thing is that I saw the aeroplane clear enough to know that it was a British Airways Boeing.

Having been trying to reach Uche in the past month, I was restless to reach him that evening. After meeting with my boss in the evening at a café, during which I told him my dream, I went home to concentrate on reaching Uche. Making calls to Nigeria can sometimes be like America searching for Bin-laden. I normally do not give up. I decided to call any soul that knows him to get him for me. I got someone, begged him to go see Uche the next morning and tell him I want to speak with him. But I never realized, that will never be. Chiji agreed to go. That night, he had a car accident and died.

But when I signed in to msn messenger the next morning, a former colleague commiserated with me. ‘It’s hard to be the one to tell you this’, he said. I hate running round a circle; so I demanded to know what it is. ‘Uche died yesterday night’, he said, ‘in an accident’. It was a lie, I replied. I will not believe that story.

No. it was truth. Sympathies flooded me from Nigeria the next day. Yet, I did not believe it till I spoke to his branch HOP and then got an internal memo of sympathy from oceanic, forwarded to me.

Uche was a brother to me. He took care of me when I needed care. He pampered me like a little brother. He does not want to hear me murmur. He was a pillar to me all my days in Maiduguri. And when I wanted to leave Nigeria, it was only Uche who stood behind me with all support and no doubts like others. He joined me to spend whatever I have to spend to see that I travelled. Uche was a wonderful person. In the 2 years I lived with him, I never ever saw him angry; never. He knows me in and out and hides nothing from me. If I have missed Nigeria, Uche was one of the main causes. I call him Ndaa Uche (respect for an older brother). He calls me “Goddy”. Now I miss being called Goddy. He is full of encouragement. I pray this is a dream. I have cried for one week now, but no, it is truth, I will never see Uche again. My head throbs, my heart bleeds, I am dodging the thought of his death. It sets my heart on real suffering. Why did God let it happen? I need help, but only the type Uche gives me.

The Poppy - A Sign Of United Appreciation

2006-11-13T14:36:00.000Z

Remembrance Day

2006-11-11T08:25:00.000Z

One of the debates on BBC Website has been why Remembrance and the wearing of the poppies. On Thursday 10th November, an attendee of BBC 1 Question Time, said his congregation argue that they should (or can since I don’t think anyone will stop them) wear white instead of the traditional red poppy; that’s what I call arrant nonsense.

Some people don’t join in wearing poppies; some don’t even join in remembering. Some see wearing the tiny red flower as a show-off, etc, wrong in (just) my own opinion.

The idea of remembrance is a beautiful one. It pays tribute and shows respect to people whom we never will be able to show our gratitude. In the Christian bible, Jesus said that the greatest love of all is that a man shall LAY his life for another… and these our soldiers have done over ages. And so what a poor way to say thank you to those loving men and women?

I join in the remembrance wearing a poppy and also keeps one round the year as their memory never leaves my heart. My own mother died from a heart sickness she developed while struggling through suffer to provide for me and my siblings… she lay down her life.

In wearing the poppies, I derive a particular joy; and it is a joy that comes from amazement how a people can join in heart. It signifies to me that even in this time, there is something that unites us. It shows unity of purpose, humility and an abiding sense of appreciation.

Today, my prayer goes out to those directly affected by loss of loved ones in war fronts in the recent times. Young widows, parents in their old age, kids orphaned or born to a story that their father is dead and also husbands turned widowers and left wondering how to raise the family alone. May the God of life and nature grant you all peace and strength to bear your burden.

We will remember them.

Escape

2006-10-27T09:08:00.000+01:00

Well, so far, here we are. (We? I wish). And talking about wishes, I am fanning up for a short life. To get out of all these quagmire called life – funny; because no one's sure if the other one (?) is better than this struggle- anyway, I mean, not in a bad or suicidal way, but sometimes, I feel I can’t just wait to die. Yes, I mean DIE! Probably there is something more challenging in death than in life; and I’m all up for it.

And talking of death, I was damn happy on the 9th October when I missed death – oh, sorry, death missed me instead – by a hair breath in the so-called morning rush. So I got out? It’s unbelievable. But well, yea, I did. For the first 3 hours after escaping being kneaded by those heavy truck tyres, I still felt I was out of myself. I mean, it felt like I am standing beside my corpse. And happiness overwhelmed me… may be, if that is how death is, - to stand and look at your body being tended by others (or being disjointed by vultures, whichever; it doesn’t really matter). Then you must feel happy. Of course, it doesn’t matter, does it? I felt just like that; and you know? It’s astonishing

I hopped back onto my bicycle and cycled like nothing happened. But after my lectures, the enormity of my injuries hit my medulla and I gave a quick call for a massage. Just to keep my loving readers, friends and family in comfort, I refused to write about it till I am just as better as I am now; healed.

The Human In Me

2006-10-27T03:26:00.000+01:00

Been quite a while now since I updated this blog. ‘Can’t blame it on anything but me. It has not been easy. Although I am too busy with so many things that interest me, yet, the little time I get to stay on my own, which time I should be hitting away on the keyboard, I am rather unsettled of the whole vanity of life.

Born into poverty, I have successfully lived above and in control of it for the most part of the past 27 years, and still do. But there are those times when you cant but go as far back as you can into those dark neglected beginnings; seeing once again the things you would prefer unseen; reliving or refreshing memories of them, you just find out you have again fallen in. But I assure you, those were not responsible.

I still live above sadness; I still live in majority happiness. So any second I go bl-u-u-u-u-r, my acquaintances always notice. But there is a hole in my heart that need be plugged; it is eerie to say, so lets not awake it..

But in all, I look at the many good things that firmly stand out to counter the mass of troubles, like little David (as told in the bible – one of the encouraging stories in it) challenging mighty Goliath, you at least think; ‘its better than nothing’. Of course it is.

What Can I Can Do?

2006-10-03T18:37:00.000+01:00

When all hope seem to lost
When no one seem to care
When life seem to be a rolling stone
All you have to do is

Count your blessings

It’s never an easy road
It’s never as expected
It’s hard to understand
All you have to do is

Count your blessings

Some seem better blest
Some seem always ahead
Some seem always satisfied
All you have to do is

Count your blessings

Rejected, neglected, refused
Refuted, unacknowledged
Retarded, recounting
All you have to do is

Count your blessings

DataBase Class

2006-09-28T11:45:00.000+01:00

Today was first DataBase Class and I was late. Lecturers do not really bother about that anyway although I am sorry I was.

Well, what pissed me off was the only lady in the class who I think know far ahead of the teacher. We are on break now as I am typing this but I have sworn to caution her should she go on with her ‘I-too-know attitude’. I think if you know something you shouldn’t really come to study it again or come to class. She interrupts the teacher at ease especially when other students ask questions. Shaking her head and talking with no proper permission sought. I am really offended but God save her not to do that if I ask any question cos am gonna go ga-ga with her…

Anyway, that said. I think all these lecture sounds like farce or whatever. But of course we do not need to follow everything said in schools, they are just for knowledge and make up of the tuition fees. As for my opinion, I think schools are just to increase enlightenment, bla bla bla.

Now, switch off, lets get back to those lectures again.

What Is The Purpose Of Life?

2006-09-11T13:45:00.000+01:00

Last week Tuesday, I met a stranger who came to share the bench with me in Green Park. We both were reading different novels.

As London is, talking to strangers isn’t any hard job. We did share about our different books and struck a friendship there. What enticed me most was how broad our discussion went and the thoughts it led me to thereafter. As we chat late into the night sitting on the stairs leading to Waterloo place, away from the whole circus at Piccadilly and Leicester Square, subjects transited smoothly and uninterruptedly, making our time very interesting.

And so, this one stuck in me: What is the purpose of life? Now, I want to find out from you reader, your own answer to that question. Kindly send your own view/answers by commenting below or sending an email to lifepurposeof@yahoo.co.uk. Responses should not be more than 150 words please.

Thank you.

I Made The Proms... Heeee!!!

2006-09-11T01:38:00.000+01:00

Before I set out to the UK from my country in 2004, I already have my fantasies and sentiments about this country, though they were not things I thought of so often,. So you can imagine they were not worries to me. Well, because I don’t believe in thinking ‘I must make it’ sort of thoughts. So now a little over 2 years of arriving, I have today (oh well! Yesterday), added one more of them.

Finally this year, I attended the famous BBC Proms which among other things had been a lifetime desire. Yet the beauty and happy thing isn’t just that I made the proms this year, but that I made the rather more-than famous Last Night. It was gorgeous. I was there. The BBC Symphony Orchestra and the BBC Singers were wonderful in their renditions. The audience also showed how united humans can be in what they love suddenly discarding differences. The waving of flags, the coughings, and the unison shouts, the uniform dance, various merry making and the tolerance; the unity is better than one you notice in football games..

So having sang in St.Paul’s Cathedral, visited Canterbury Cathedral, being live in a Proms Last night is the perfect desire to gain additionally.

Clissold Park

2006-08-25T12:57:00.000+01:00

Tuesday, after so long sitting indoors blogging and doing one or two things here and there, I went out to see a friend and thereafter popped into Clissold Park.

Although I have lived in Stoke Newington for over a year now, it was my first time to step into this local park. What surprised me is that this park which I have neglected a lot and trooping to Green Park more often even alone on most occasions, is rather a mini Hyde park. Well, I have a particular sentimental likeness for Green Park because its just next to the Queen’s palace – those who knows me can understand what I mean by that.

Well, Clissold Park is really beautiful and to my surprise very big. The beauty is more naturally enhanced with the animals there. The Deers fascinated me most, the rabbits, the goats (whatever they are), the ducks and variety of birds; sincerely I was amazed. These inhabitants made it more enjoying than Finsbury Park which is the nearest park I frequent. The ponds and lakes in Clissold Park are also more natural with the woods surrounding them and occasional island in the midst.

Now, let’s go out and see the diverse London.

When I like the weather

2006-08-21T23:26:00.000+01:00

In Manchester Piccdilly Square. It was a cool weather with nice showery rain to go. Just like having a nice desert of vanilla and custard after some nasty meal... Nasty because I slept in this rubbish hostel with an empty top of the bunk bed hanging over me like a badly fixed ceiling... Lacking carpets, and nothing but the bed & few hangers, I felt I had seen before purchase.

Hypocrisy

2006-08-12T01:42:00.000+01:00

Now it gets really confusing when what you hear is different from what you experience. It is more depressing, deranging and even discouraging when people tell you something and act the other way; all to you. To be sincere, I lack the real words to put it how I see it.

Why would people go the length of telling you how good you are and still say they cant have anything to do with you? Employers, lovers, friends, colleagues, etc. Are they really saying the truth? Or are they just saying something they feel suiting? I think the later is the real case. Cowards!

Now that is the experience in life from all aspects; love, work, socializing, you name it. I take it people fear the truth. It’s not about wanting to please or suit, its hypocrisy.

I will prefer to be told how foolish, evil, unworthy and even selfish I am so I can work on improving than being praised and still shoved off. Think of it.

Back To Church For His Love

2006-08-02T14:13:00.000+01:00

*O Love that wilt not let me go
I rest my weary soul in thee
I give Thee back the life I owe,
that in Thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

On Sunday I went back to church after 5 weeks absence. The above first verse was part of the various beautiful hymns sang as if my vicar knew I was coming to church. Being a hymn (tune: St. Margaret (88 886)) I loved so much, it was very touching to sing it again especially after a very tough time that saw me battle with my maker and stay away from the church. And truly, after that 5 Sundays, His love really would not let me go.

On Saturday prior to that Sunday, I was out to Brighton and things went very well as against my own expectation. And so my decision to go to church on that Sunday was an outcome of the Saturday being successful and overcoming my fears. And so I gave back The Life I owe having seen through the entire events of the 5 weeks that I can’t really predict nor control that life.

*O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
and feel the promise is not vain
that morn shall tearless be.

The above verse is the 3rd of the same hymn. And surely, that Joy sought me through my period of fear and pain. I tried to close my heart to it but that rainbow remained even in the midst of that stormy fear that clouded me; assuring me that yes, His promise is sure. And so the morn was a happy one.

*verses culled from Hymn No 515; Complete Mission Praise, expanded music edition 2005.

My BirthDay

2006-07-26T22:34:00.000+01:00

Yesterday 25th, I woke up to an email from my Greek brother in Virginia, USA. Now I hear you say ‘how come a Greek brother?’ Never mind, you don’t need to worry. As I read through my reply to push the ‘send’ button, the post man rang the door bell and delivered a package from him. Good timing.

Well, many other good wishes came from all corners. And from quarters I wouldn’t expect any. It was good to know you are remembered especially when you feel all alone.

My thanks go to all but not to my ISP whose product chose today to give me headache. I will talk about their bad service and poor customer service in a different write up; don’t want any such thing to change my perspective.

I had a one man party after I received the star text message from the man of the moment… hehehehe - can hear u grumbling and mumbling now; sorry for feeling that way.

Well, today I realized how soon old age is setting in. Turning 27 today, I can now sense 30 and thus pension is ringing in my head. Anyway, I only need to re-adjust my psyche that I am no more a kid and its time to get things settled. We shall see

The Last Week Of My 26th

2006-07-23T10:21:00.000+01:00

Oh yes! 5 Sundays counting and I haven’t been to church. Bless me! Those who know me cannot believe this and those who don’t know cannot think of it.

Anyway, that’s by the way. My week was so busy I nearly break down but yea, I made it remaining one little task to round it up. For the first time in over 15 months, I will be going to work on a Sunday this afternoon. Well, its not that I now work or want to work on a Sunday but just to fill up an emergency for a very dear loving colleague. You see, for me, I can do anything for my friends as long as it is ‘morally’ and legally right. She (my colleague) begged and the only phrase that made me accept as I wouldn’t was “please you are the only one that can do this for me”. Jeeeeeez!!! I was touched. And so, I have to break my principle of not working on a Sunday. She is very lucky, I am free today. If my boss had asked, I wouldn’t have accepted.

Well, the weather was nastily hot this week. Now you can join the crowd that find it hard to believe a tropical African guy like me hate the hot weather, whatever. Yes, it was so hot that I have to go out shirtless. That was the extent. I even had to roll up my jean to the knee as the whole length makes me feel immersed in a hot base. But truly, I cant stand it when it hit above 20 degree-Celsius.

Now shirtless as I was, the girls won’t stop looking. And the guys??? Well. Yea, one lady really was very open about it in the underground on Thursday saying, your body is super… don’t ask for details, I was speechless. I get wet bums when ladies flirt with me that’s all.

Ok. Enough of this. My room looks like a sorting office, so let me do the sorting, these papers are so many. Have a good Sunday.

Mum, Its 10 Years Today

2006-07-14T17:09:00.000+01:00

By this morning of the 14th July 1996, the most speculative news anyone could have given me is that I will be motherless and a complete orphan before its dusk.

Having finished my final exams, I have left the city to go see my mum. Like every child separated from its mother due to sickness, I have missed her so much in the past 11 months. And so, you could sense my joy and gladness to be with her again regardless she isn’t well. Sleeping on the same bed, eating from the same dishes, walking together to almost everywhere, being her only and overall carer, my life revolved around her, so you can imagine the bond between us was even stronger than what it was while I was the little foetus in her womb.

When I arrived that Tuesday, I was all over her. She was gleaming with joy, and congratulated me on my completion of high school. Saturday, was the sermonic day without me understanding it was the farewell speech. Instructions, advice, counselling, messages for my 2 older siblings, etc. but did I give it a thought? Fairly;

I have come a long way since 1996, have evolved from a mere school boy to a grown man my mum will barely know me now. But the dent her departure left still remains. Annoying was and still remains that it was poverty that hindered me from trying what humans can do to save her. And so when I think of it today, 10 years on, I can’t but weep and be filled with anger and regrets that I could have afforded her treatment by now. But anger that no one helped even though I was surrounded by wealthy relatives.

My heart burns with so much regret and sorrow. Sorrow for many out there who are in the position I was between 1994 – 96 suffering among riches and wealth. For many who starve in the midst of plenty. For many children, teenagers, infants who are helplessly and sadly watching their loved ones pass away. For many who are pleading the tormentor to just have mercy. For many who seem to be asking “from whence comest my help?’ and so it seems God has forgotten them.

My best desire will be to help someone overcome and go through such period with less and less sorrow. And that again forms my annoyance that things get tough for me. So when I see others and cannot help, I break down and weep. And weep for myself; weep for I cannot do anything. Weep for discrimination. Weep for segregation. Weep because all honest means of achieving things are neglected and not motivated by the society. I weep. I weep for the world. Where riches are never enough; where men and women wish to earn and never spend. For the world where we take pride in giving pittance than in setting up people independent of our little egoistic donations Yes, I weep.

Today, amongst all other days, my heart is heavy, burdened with the sorrow of tragedies such as I passed through. But above all, weighed down by the bleak future every minute represents, of the dying hopes, of the wickedness of man to man, of the imbalance of comfort. My heart is weight down; weighed down when I see the empty smile on our faces signing ‘Gift Aid’ tax envelopes just giving nothing. We have cars for parties, for office, for shopping, for dropping the children off to school; yet someone somewhere has no way to afford and amputation. We have bin to recycle unopened foods, cans, bottles of wine, unused ready-made meals, yet someone somewhere can not afford oil to heat up a sour meal. But we take pride when we give these things to charities feeling we’ve done the best. Let us all think!
I miss my mother, and I will miss her all my life. Because she left me too early to get used to living without her. But what can I do? Only to say, whatever be my course, however means by my end, whichever state turns my life, I will keep her memory alive and pray I will uphold it through saving someone else such agonies. Rest in peace sweet mother.

My BirthDay Wish List

2006-06-28T21:33:00.000+01:00

I should have put this up on the 26th of June which is exactly 1 month to the day, but I have been in a very bad mood since last Saturday morning.. But now, having written this sometime ago, I just stumbled on it as I try to ransack the hard disk for somewhere to backup some from a second hard disk I’m putting in order.

It’s my 27th birthday on 26th July, for those who would want to, I love being wished a happy birthday just to show that you care. I also think its better I put up a list here for things I need should anyone feel wealthy enough to buy me stuff; all my friends are wealthy though.

Birthday Wish List:

Ticket to last night of BBC Prom (the best thing you can give me now)

Tickets to BBC Prom at Royal Albert Hall. Ask me for date please

A Pentium 4 (or higher) wireless notebook.

A nice portrait of Queen Elizabeth II

An offer to pay off my credit card (don’t panic, it isn’t much)

A new bicycle

A complete set of Handel Samson CD

A complete set of Handel Egypt CD

Complete works of Beethoven on CD

Complete works of Mozart on CD

Complete works of Johan Bach on CD

CDs of Hymns and Anglican Chants. (Psalms and others)

Assorted bandanas

Current version of Encyclopaedia Britannica
Oh! And bags of CRISP. I love them... (not vinegar or ready salted flavours please)

Etc.

You can buy any other thing you may wish but these are priorities and will be appreciated

Someone really cares...

2006-06-21T11:03:00.000+01:00

Sometimes in life, things happen that gives one a thought confirming that life is obviously unpredictable.

While I complained about the hot weather and had been struggling to live with it(I haven’t got a choice really), I mentioned that some of my old friends who knows me well have sent their sympathy and I do appreciate them. But one has gone the longer way to showing his concern.

And yesterday, Milo arrived at my door with a big surprise. Though he had mentioned it while commenting about my cold nature that abhors 180C and above; yet the reality of it was somewhat a surprise to me. When he rang the door bell, I only expected to see him but not with a gift. But there he was, sweating from the hot sun outside, a good shopping in his hands. I helped him, taking the load while letting him in. do you know what? It was a desk fan for me. Jeez! My life has been blessed. It really is a fan. I cant help smiling, looks like the ‘quote me happy advert…

I have wondered how and been trying to get up to buying a fan. As usual, it’s not easy even if it cost a penny, being on a budget does not easily allow impulsive spending. So I have to try to adjust my accountings and set out on when to chip in that NEED.

I did set up the fan immediately; life has been much more enjoying and my room much cooler. I hope the fan can survive as it will be on for most of the time. An example is that it’s been in motion since I came in from my book club meet up at half 10pm till this 11am as I type this. Trust me, sleeping naked as I do, with a fan blowing cool air on me brings back late autumn to me as I long for the winter to rush in.

God bless Milo. Thank you Milo, you are a saviour.

The Royal Albert Hall

2006-06-17T08:56:00.000+01:00

Sometime ago in my past articles, I have mentioned 2 particular friends who have been wonderfully good to me in England, Mark and Sammy. I am yet to identify what means to thank them as there is no way that seems enough for their kindness.

So its no surprise that for the first time of stepping into the beautiful Royal Albert Hall, it was made possible by Mark.

Being in the great auditorium, I can’t but feel a happiness that words cannot express. The round theatre seems just great at the look of it. And the show? Absolutely amazing. It was a musical called Show Boat which has come along way since the early 20th century and tells a story of a ship going on the Mississippi stopping at every village to stage a show. The cast comprise of over 50 adults and so many kids. The whole thing was just in a simple way, intelligent.

Well, I feel fulfilled, for finally making it into the Royal Albert Hall though it is funny to believe that one as me that love classical music so much, have spent over 2 years in London, yet never visited the Royal Albert Hall. Initially, I have promised myself I must step in there this year when the PROMS start. And that I will still do. I will surely by God’s grace see this year’s proms and not only that, I am hoping to be there on the famous last night of the proms. I can’t wait.

So long brethren, it’s a new phase of classical experience that I am embarking on and I know it will cost me much but who cares. So, if you feel tempted, book a visit with me.

I'm On Fire

2006-06-12T21:12:00.000+01:00

I’ve been to the shower three times now in a space of an hour. The sun is heating up as if hanging on the roof of my little room. I am burning and feeling the fire right around me. I cannot help it. God!!!

Since I was born, temperatures higher than 250C have always been a source of worry for me. Funny as it may be and surprise as it has always been to many, I was born in a tropical africa where average temperatures in my birth city can be about 310C. But then, it was horrible growing up with it. I remember those days when my mum has to fan me lying purely nude on cemented floor rolling and seeking cold spots. The heat is inside and on my flesh. I feel very uncomfortable and sometimes, I wish I wasn’t born.

Later in my life, I was to move north east of my country to Maiduguri in 2002 where I was working. The weather in this city goes as high as 420C. Everyone who knew me before then wondered if I will survive. Well, I survived mainly because working in the I.T unit of a bank, the local server room doubled as my office. To keep the servers happy, a powerful air conditioning system was present and I shared from the product. So while the city is burning at 42 or whatever, I am lolling in my office at 5 or 6 with my tie and shoes off so I can feel the whole air on my body and keep my bare foot on the marble tiles which at that point is chilling like ice cube. Back at my apartment, I wet my bed with a 4 litre bucket of water every 2 hours through the night. But I’m in the office for about 14 – 16 hours of the day.

I left Maiduguri in 2002 to London and climate was among the strongest reasons I wanted to come here. And sincerely, I have enjoyed and loved the winter periods; it is my best of times in England. Now my worries are: if June is as hot, how do I survive in July August? Well, it is still better than being in Maiduguri or even in Nigeria where I am afraid of getting out in the open by midday. Please Thames Water, shouldn’t metre their product yet as I will be using tons of it to keep myself sane. I cant wait for the winter again.

ME

2006-06-09T11:12:00.000+01:00

How does one describe himself? We change with time; we follow the trends of nature. Conditions, events, aging, jobs, even technology, etc, all keep us doing the one thing we hate – CHANGE. If I am a subject, I would have a definition, but then you will need to pay some tuition to learn me. If I am an object, I would be describable, but again, you will need to earn the money to buy me. Or can I say, I am a road; yet you must navigate on ME right to the end to master me. Or think ME as a castle, a place, an area; then exploitation would be necessary to get the knowledge. So what am I?

I am just ME; acting on the pulse of time and situation, different to various people in many ways. I am what I am individually to individuals but still ME. And so, that ME is the unity of what I am to different persons. That is ME.

The above description doesn’t actually give you a defined painted figure of ME but rather seem to be telling you to do the job. Of course that’s exactly what I meant. As it has been my personal way to study and know people by person, I so also deem it necessary for people to do so to me. This is borne out of my very liberal, independent and individualistic but selfless nature. I believe in personal opinions, which is why I give others the liberty of saying their understanding of things. But there’s a point to draw the line and on such, I won’t in any way influence your conclusion of me. The best thing would be to verify should you ask ME to just as I usually do.

So come on, jump on the wagon and do the exploit. hehehe...

City Sickness

2006-05-27T15:01:00.000+01:00

I am updating this from Manchester where I had been away to get some rest in the past 3 days. It's actually funny to do when I have not been able to do it while in London since creating this blog. Well, 'c'est la vie'.

Many acquaintance find it difficult understanding me as a person. Most complain I am very difficult (rubbish; I prefer "complex" instead), and some, the right thinking ones of course say I am complex. I love it. But am I really?

Somehow, I will accetp and believe it myself 'cos within me too, sometimes I wish I dont have to go down the route of my lifestyle. What can I say? An example is my decision to go visiting Manchester just like that. The entire question are just based on WHY? And may I ask why "WHY" too? Funny, isnt it? (or 'innit' like some fake imitators will say). But there is a reason.

Surprise as it may sound, my life, though started and bred in a very poor home, had always been on a route totally out of course from its basement. While I shouldn't really be thinking of holiday as I dont have enough money for it, my very complex nature had always not been able to station in any particular city for longer than 3 months without going burst. Confused? I will explain.

This is a life-term sickness and I have tried by kindness, understanding, force and 'what-have-you-way' to solve and stop it but never succeed. When I was a kid, my lovely mum - God bless her soul -, will always take me on a journey. She wasn't rich as I have mentioned, but she is always able to afford and sacrifice just to pay a visit to a long lost relative or friend. In that way, people admired her for her power of keeping relationships alive. And that bug got into my blood marrow like a Human Immune-Deficiency Virus, it had stayed without a cure. So, the result; When I stay in my town of residence for a minimum time frame of 3 months, my body sends a signal to my brain. Decoded, the output is: 'we are choking, need to have a change of air please'.

That is just it. And from that period, irritation, sickness, dizzyness, weakness, etc all become daily routine. Like a pregnant woman, is a daily occurence. And I can only accomodate or endure these things for a few weeks but its usually disastrous for my entire system. The more I try to supress it, the more the increament of them and additionally a feeling of unaccomplishment. But I'm always able to change it by succumbing and that's only the solution. But the end effect: all that feelings move to my finances.

After the (always) forced trips, My finances suffers. But I think its better I go away with the money and come back healthy than staying put and spending it on drugs for no real sickness which never cures anyway and looking a sorry sight.

Well, now, I have seen Manchester and its a lovely place; well, what else can it be with my natural britain-sentimentality? Nevertheless, I love Newcastle/Gateshead more; that's where I doused the sickness last year.

Preamble

2006-05-04T15:58:00.000+01:00

Well, I am hoping to go through memory lane of my life down to when it all began. It won’t be an easy tracking but I will try my best to keep it on what it has been.

One thing that is sure is that I (or no one at all) should take blames for life because it wasn’t any of our faults. Precisely, you will agree with me that no one chose the life he or she is born into; or the parents’ one gets, neither the colour of skin nor the geographic origin, sexuality or colour of blood. Rather we found ourselves on this plane all due to the reason of whoever and whatever made us, for me I believe and call that ‘whoever and whatever’ GOD. So for the course of this diary, that name God will come on and off.

I may not put the whole record in sequence of occurrence but where intelligence obliges me; I will justify issues with date and hope you curious reader satisfies the hunger of knowing the wind that has delivered me to this point.

So lets ride; it’s my life.