Short Story Time!!! This one is Called 'Four Months'

It is said that there is a rush of air that fills your head when you’re told you have only so long to live.  

The reaction is slightly varied depending on how long you’ve been given. A year; and you’re thinking…bucket list -travel plans and wild adventures; depending on how much exertion your now failing shell will let you. 6 months, you’re thinking of calling lawyers and making peace with people you’ve crossed along the road.

The reel of film that plays your life comes in different hues, depending on how well you’ve lived. This reel unfurled before Wale Cole now. 

For 64 years, he had lived like his father before him, and his father before him.

Fierce.  Ruthless. Calculating. Wale’s father had told him that the first Wale Cole had been the true embodiment of all three. And although he didn’t live longer than 46, his son had watched him crush any sign of weakness with a swiftness that was cold, yet admirable.  It was a shame that he died from lung cancer. Wale Cole II smoked his last pipe at his father’s internment.  He walked away from the graveside, promising himself that he’d raise his son to be a man even greater than his father.

He stayed true to his promise; and 2 decades later, Wale Cole III had grown the Cole brand in exponential proportions- operating out of Japan with services across Asia, Africa and the Middle East. The pride of the memory of his ancestors stayed with him, along with memories of the day he met Shalewa.

It was a narrow hallway at the Ikeja High Court. She blew a ring of smoke in his face, her eyes daring him to revolt. With one hand holding up her hand bag, she said, “Are you one of the good guys… Or one of the bad ones?”

 It was the smirk and the complete lack of reverence that jarred him. Her plain face did nothing for him. Eyes trailing slowly down, he wondered if she knew that the colour grey was meant for her. The dress clung to every part of her body that all he could think of was fucking her into submission - make her whimper till she never had to ask who he was.

“No. I’m the really bad one. I have to be at court; but nobody says I have to be in there staring at the whimpering faces of losers in there.”

They were married the following year. 32 years of marriage had done very little damage to that body. He watched her approach him gracefully. Her smile, priceless. 

“How long?”

“4 months”

He pulled the lounge chair closer, pushing the deck table between them.

“Did you bring it?”

“Yes. The Macallan 1939 and my personal favourite brand of Cubans”

She poured out their glasses, and lit the cigar.

“Here’s to my first drink”

With a deep throaty laughter, she replied,  “And your first smoke! It’s time to live”.

Your Will & Mine... Because ELKAFT

I got on a plane last week... and I was terrified. The closer I got to the door of the aircraft, the more I felt a cold draft of fear – acute and intense fear – go through me.  The first thing I did when I got into the plane was look in the direction of the cockpit – as if for some sign that I was going to be okay. As I fastened my seatbelt and stowed my bags away, I wondered “Girl, what was that about? I thought you stopped being afraid of death 5 years ago?”

The month of March is a particularly difficult one for me. Every day from the 17^th to the 26^th ,  I find myself rehashing and re-living the process of my brother’s accident, death and funeral. The utter and sheer unexpectedness of it all is still very hard to grasp; and as the years have rolled on, I have taught myself that death would come, whether I want it to or not. I also know that neither me, nor my household is immune from the randomness and the scythe of The Grim Reaper.

Who’s to say you’re not going to get on a plane with a depressed pilot in the cockpit? How do you know that you’re not going to be standing at Cele bus stop and you won’t get run down by a drunken tanker driver? What are the odds that you’ll wake up tomorrow?  Before you mutter ‘It’s not my portion’, you have to remember , ‘ Eyan Le Ku Any F**king Time’  (ELKAFT) – translated to mean “A person can die at any frigging time”. ELKAFT is something that we all need to be aware of, consequently, we need to pay attention to some things like planning for when you’re no longer around.

As Nigerians, deeply steeped in eternal faith based optimism, we don’t really put a lot of stock in having properly documentation in preparation for death.  Every time I talk to someone about having a will, they smile and say “I’m not going anywhere yet. I shall live to declare…” The lawyer in me keeps wondering what that even means.

Family law and law of Succession were arguably my favourite courses in Unilag.  Between Professor Uzodike, and Mr. Tunde Oni, I was well inculcated into the advocacy of having a last will and testament.  We had a lot of interesting cases of family wars started as a result of intestacy. Interestingly, a lot of notable intestate cases involved lawyers. Like chain-smoking doctors, the world is full of intestate lawyers

While having a will doesn’t necessarily make all your problems disappear, it helps a lot. At least you know there’s a document to be followed in sharing your assets when you’re gone.  With a will, you know that your children are provided for and your debts are paid off (You don’t want your creditors cussing you out on the way to heaven, do you?)

So, I asked my friend, Alfino,  when he thinks the best time to start thinking of a will is, and he responded “When you get married.”  His wife added a modifier stating, “If you have dependents, then you should start thinking of a will.” We then went on to talk about some utterly murky situations created by intestacy.

Essentially, it’s about making provision for those you love and care about. For the sake of argument, I asked what it should matter how people left behind deal with themselves. After all, you won’t be there, so why should it matter? We concluded that the messiness created from improper planning usually does more harm than good.

We talked about a wealthy Nigerian family whose dying patriarch called his children together in one room, declared his assets and told everybody what was due to them. He asked anybody with any dissatisfaction to speak up or forever hold their peace. Nobody was going to be allowed to sully his name after his death.  There has been no news of family squabbles. I like this style.

In another family, even though the patriarch knew he was dying and he left a will, a new mysterious will surfaced. Let’s just say lawyers have been cashing out from that mess.

There’s something about the idea of free money, and free property that makes people go crazy. Even the nicest siblings start fighting over bungalow in Maryland, land in Osapa London, town house in Mayfair. You imagine a family unit is the closest you’ve ever seen, and then a super valuable piece of real estate comes into contention and suddenly the claws come out.

Cultural nuances and dynamics don’t also make planning your estate easier. The question of what law should govern your succession process comes into play. If you have a will, and you’re a notable traditionalist – living your life fully according to the dictates of customs and traditions – it becomes more difficult to apply the specifics of a will. Disgruntled parties will argue that the will, drafted under the Act is invalid as you lived as a traditionalist and your estate should be divided accordingly.

Some estate battles become so bitter and protracted that one begins to wonder about whether anything in life itself is worth fighting for. There’s nothing sadder than having the memory of a loved one becomes coloured by the messiness of money disputes.

It’s never too early to start talking to a lawyer or a financial advisor about planning your estate. And no, having a will isn’t the exclusive right of rich people. Read up about it, make preparations and plan for your future; because… well…

ELKAFT!

My Friends Keep Pushing Boundaries! Laolu Senbanjo at the SXSW | 9elumi & the Endometriesis run

So my friends are basically kicking ass left right and centre! When 9elumi started talking about giving awareness to the Endometriesis condition, I thought 'how does she want to go about this?' I mean, it's not something a lot of people know about. Many of the by-products of having endometriesis is usually overlooked by our people. Protracted and painful periods? Well suck it up... you're an African woman. Don't be lazy. That amongst other things made her decide to organise a run. She contacted the guys at Truppr and they're going to give out free yellow t-shirts to create awareness. Little woolen keepsakes will be sold at the run too. The money will be collected and sent to an existing endometriesis research place. Pretty impressive!

If you're in Nigeria and you wanna register for the run, visit www.truppr.com/5krun.

**
Another of my friends, Laolu Senbanjo is a creative genius. He is a lawyer (hey... all cool people are aren't we?)

Anyway, he got into the SXSW FESTIVAL!!!

No seriously... it is a big deal! He is an artist and an artiste! The afromysterics band, and Laolu are going to be performing under the world music line up {check out the schedule here}

I interviewed Laolu some years ago on BN... I'll look for the link and upload it here. Really, he's 'cool peoples' and his song"Love Before" is one of my absolute favourites in the whole wide world.

The write up from the press release is right after the photos.

Laolu is about to head from New York City with his band, the Afromysterics to Austin, TX to South by Southwest, alongside fellow Afro Artists Ayo and Rafiya.  Only a year old, this is the band’s first SXSW performance. 

Laolu will be performing at Speakeasy Kabaret (412 N Congress Ave, Austin, TX 78701) at 10:30 pm Thursday March 19, 2015.  The showcase is presented by Digiwaxx and powered by OkayAfrica.   

Laolu & the Afromysterics / SXSW  DATES

03/19 – Austin, TX @ Speakeasy Kabaret

xxx

Laolu & the Afromysterics is the brain child of Laolu Senbanjo, a self-taught musician, visual artist and a human rights lawyer.  He’s the lead singer, composer, and the acoustic guitarist.  Born and raised in Nigeria to Yoruba parents, he left his legal career behind to chase his dream of being a musician and artist full time in New York City.  His band, the Afromysterics are made up of an eclectic group of musical geniuses from all over the globe.  With influences from the likes of Fela Kuti, King Sunny Ade, and Sade, the music definitely has its roots in the typical Yoruba traditions, yet Laolu blends in reggae, afrosoul, and hip hop into the songs.  You have to witness this band live to feel the African groove for yourself. 

**
Yeah... so my friends are doing things...

Me.. well... when you know cool people it just makes you wanna be more and do more.

These guys inspire me!

Now, go forth and kick some major butt!

Beep! Beep!! Beep!!! A Story from 2011

I was looking through my old emails and I saw this. Well, I'm not going to edit it... or try and make it read better. I want to be able to remember what I wrote like back in 2011. Plus... I wanna be able to compare my growth... or absence of it.

Please read and leave a comment. Lol yah... I'm thinking asking for comments is a thing I should start trying innit?

***

Beep! Beep!! Beep!!! The darned light on my Blackberry never stops blinking. It’s always one thing or the other.  I have 21 unread messages. Crap! What do they all want? Why won’t they all leave me alone?? I just want to be alone dammit!!  There’s always something someone feels is so important they must tell you right away, something you must attend to as and when they want it. If I wasn’t so exhausted at the moment I’d start pulling out my hair, one strand at a time.

Flora... Reminding me that Tosin’s bridal shower is on Sunday. “Tee, don’t forget to bring 5k for a gift for the bride. I also think you’d need about 5k to eat at Pattaya. See you babes”

Tamuno... Letting me know I’m a bad friend. I haven’t called her in a week “You, I hope you know I’m not happy with you at all. You’ve not been a friend. You don’t call, you don’t text. Ordinary bbms sef you don’t reply”

Tosin... Wanting to know if she can drop off her aso-ebi  in my house since I claim to be working all the time. Too busy to see anybody. “Olatoun, my Mom is going to Allen later today, will someone be in your house? I want to drop off the lace and fascinator for you.  Also don’t forget the fitting for bridesmaids is on Saturday oh! My chief bridesmaid MUST NOT be late. I know you”

Kadeejah.. .Itching to give me the dirt on everyone, including myself “Babes, I saw that smelly Alexia with Femi last night. Holding hands and all.. I was so mortified on your behalf”

 Femi, my sweet asshole of an estranged husband ... constantly lying through his teeth... wondering why I won’t give us a second chance. “Baby, I won’t stop telling you how sorry I am. I’m nothing without you Toun, NOTHING.

And Sister Lara... needing to be consoled ALL the frigging time. “Tee, :’( this supervisor never seems satisfied with whatever I do. Honestly I’m tired. I need another job where I’ll be appreciated”

I feel like just screaming and tossing the phone against the wall. Why does everybody think I don’t have troubles of my own?

 I feel like saying to Sister Lara, suck it up, life isn’t a bed of roses, and even if it is there are thorns in every rose stalk... so stop disturbing me.

I feel like telling Femi what to do with that this “Second chance” he keeps talking about...his ass hole is in need of stuffing.

Kadeejah... get a life and stop getting vicarious fixes off other people’s lives. Sheesh!

Tosin, so because you’re getting married now I should be bankrupt? I’ve been there done that and have the scarred belly to show for it. Not very impressed. Drop the aso-ebi if you will, but please step off my nuts abeg!

*sigh* To Tammy, I just wanna scream. She’s undeserving of words in return. I’ve not met a clingier and a more self-centred friend.

Oh Flora, dear Flora... Do you not get tired of these little events/get togethers where we all smile falsely and pretend like all is peachy and dandy?

BEEP! BEEP!! BEEP!!! This time it wasn’t from my phone, but my dialysis machine, telling me my session was over.  I sighed deeply. 8 months of this so far and I have the rest of my life to go. My diabetes had been improperly managed and led to more complications so twice a month for the rest of my life this shall be my fate. A lone tear betrayed me and rolled down my cheek. I swatted angrily at it as I walked towards the nurses bay to sign out and get my appointment card for my next visit.

I was dealing with this and the world was moving on. Every time something happened to test me, I got up and fought, and I was victorious. I always made it through. I had to be strong, the alternative, crumbling, was not an option.

Beep! Beep!! Beep!!! I looked at the offensive device in my hand, it was my sister calling.  I smiled because she was the only one who stood by me. She was the one I told when I was told my kidneys were shutting down. The one who held me while I cried because Femi left me for his ex-girlfriend, saying he always knew she was meant for him. Tola, the one person with whom I shared an amniotic sac, whose pulse I felt even when we were apart.

“Toun, I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“Been at The Centre. I just finished. What’s up?”

“I guessed as much when you weren’t picking. Where are you exactly? I have some news and I think you should sit down for this”

“I’m walking towards the car. Ki lo shele?”

I froze as I unlocked my car.

NO! NO!! NO!!!

Anyone but my mother, please NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Did Bola Agbaje's 'Gone Too Far' Go Too Far into Field of Absurdity?

The Pan African Film Festival is currently in Los Angeles so my cousins and I decided... oh let's see some films. Right? Okay, so I wanted to see Gone Too Far, because it had O.C Ukeje in it. I'd seen read the synopsis and reckoned it might be cool to see what it would end up being. So, this is my review of Bola Agbaje's Gone Too Far, directed by Destiny Ekaragha. The film was originally written as a stage play in 2007, and was made into a feature film in 2014. A young Nigerian guy, Ikudaisi (played by O.C Ukeje) joins his mother (played by Golda John Abiola ) and younger brother (played by Malachi Kirby) in London after many years of separation. The film sought to tell the story of Ikudaisi's integration into the society his family lived in, with particular emphasis on how his arrival affected his brother's social life... or lack of it.

 So, overall, the movie was okay. Honestly, it was. But I had a lot of issues with the film. But before I go into that, let's talk about the name of O.C Ukeje's character. The Hell is Ikudaisi?????? Reallly??? Of ALLLLLL the names to give to your character? Iku - death. Daisi - Establishes this one. So the name basically means Death Establishes This One. No, I'm not being pedantic, that name is soooo 1953 Yoruba Land! They did NOT TRY with that name. Haba!

Okay, I just thought to get that minor peeve out of the way. Secondly, I don't get why the entire story line of the film was made to last the whole day! Okay, so here's what happened. Ikudaisi landed from Nigeria... in slippers and some 'hip hop hurray' neck chains and baggy pants (troziz... if you don't like AmericanSpeak). After the initial greeting and unnecessary elongation of scenes, the Mother asks Yemi to go to the shops to pick up some Okro for food for Ikudaisi's meal. From the beginning of the film to the very end... it was this Okro these boys went to buy oh! The street chases, the ridiculousness of running into girls, the unnecessary social commentary, the fight scenes...EVERYTHING was in the cause of this Okro buying. Just how far away was this shop where the Okro was supposed to be purchased? For someone who had arrived on a 6 hour trip from Nigeria, who was supposedly meant to be fed and allowed to rest, Ikudaisi was quite spritely.

There were also some absurdities in the movie which made one ask "Really now? Really?" For instance, when the Uncle brought Ikudaisi from the airport, instead of taking him home, he left him in the car and went into the shops for a cigarette? The dramatic exit of Ikudaisi from the car when his mother arrived was very lacklustre. How come Ikudaisi and Yemi were so unfamiliar with each other? Did they never speak on the phone? Was Ikudaisi living under a rock? It's one thing not to know your brother's fashion sense, it's another thing to NOT know anything about him. There was NO explanation as to why the brothers didn't know each other. Please living on two continents is not an excuse.

 Also, I the general idea of trying to show cultural diversity, but the scenes with those two girls were very tiresome. We got the picture; Armani (Shanika Warren-Markland) is a confused girl who wanted to get her boyfriend jealous but her existence  did very little to move the plot forward. I get wanting to sprinkle romance and jealousy into a story, but there's a point when too much of something just leaves the audience tired. While I quite liked Paris (Adelayo Adedayo), the attempt to show her as the girl who was pining for Yemi, while he chased after Armani, fell flat. There was nothing in her body language or dialogue to show that. I must mention that the scene where Armani and Yemi confronted themselves in the park with people watching was just... "God when is this movie going to end?" In all, the film was okay. I'm not even going to compare it to a Nollywood, since I don't even think Nollywood flicks are made for you to even engage your brain.

 I liked the mother in this film. Golda John was funny and natural. There were times where there was zero chemistry between her and the sons but hey... compared to the other actors... she was okay. O.C Ukeje's Yoruba was quite wonky... but that's okay. He's an Igbo guy speaking Yoruba... we forgive him. In conclusion, this might have been best left as a stage play. Stretching it into a full feature film was going too far!

Snag that man... Get Pregnant!

“Have you considered having a baby together? It will help you find out how vested your partner is, in the relationship”

If you’ve been in a protracted ‘serious relationship’, chances are that one concerned friend/relative would have said these words to you. It’s one of those 'nuggets of wisdom' you receive, in pursuit of the ever elusive words of commitment from Le Boo.

Women, in a constant race against the biological clock, are the most susceptible to the anxiety that comes from just hanging. So, when things appear stalled, they begin to consider options for expediting their goals – marriage and children.

In light of this, the idea of introducing a child to the mix becomes like a compelling force for commitment. Rightly or wrongly, this is widely practiced by Nigerians. Based on certain cultural expectations, a lot of people feel obliged to do right by the person they’re having a child with – so men have been known to consider marriage once a pregnancy comes in the mix.

I know a guy who is constantly lamenting about how unhappy he is in his marriage. One day, I got tired of hearing the whining, and asked him if he was forced to marry this woman. The way I saw it, unless he was dragged by the noose to the altar, he had no business moaning this much.
“She got pregnant na! So I had to marry her.”

Oh God! He made it sound like such a burden. His words provided a bit of clarity into why he always seemed so miserable. Upon further talk, he revealed that the pregnancy for which he got married was lost in a miscarriage, and as such he was ‘stuck’ in the situation. Whilst I had very little sympathy for him – I’m not really a fan of the victim mentality – it did make me wonder about the different ways his story could have turned out.

It is my belief that when two consenting adults are having unprotected sex, they’re in a form of committed relationship, and they are ready for any of the consequences – STDs and babies. Neither party should be allowed to wallow in self-pity if any of the by products of their actions come to play.

Now, because mistakes happen, and nothing is ever 100% certain, what do you do when you’re not ready to have babies – psychologically, emotionally and financially – and a pregnancy comes into the mix?

In the past, it was believed that the honour of a woman was not to be besmirched, and as such a man was under an obligation to marry the woman – societal expectations enforced the binding of two willing or unwilling parties. Parents, largely out of shame, would tether their children together. This was based on the premise that if you’re having enough sex to allow yourself get pregnant, then you should be ready to live the rest of your life with that person.

However, we know that marriage is a life long commitment. Is it enough to make a decision of a lifetime based on the fact that you’re having a child together? The child will grow up and leave the nest. A paternity test could reveal that the child isn’t yours. Also, like my friend, you could lose the pregnancy? Or the child may die; then you’re stuck with someone you were just okay with shagging.

It can be argued that the flip side of this is, falling hopelessly in love with the person during the process of waiting for the child to be born. This happens a lot in novels and movies. From what Mills & Boons writers would have us believe, two Friends with Benefits will suddenly realize they can’t live without each other while choosing strollers and picking out baby cots. In this case, the marriage would be a beautiful love story – “Your Mummy wasn’t sure she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me. Then you came along and one day while we were deciding what colour to paint your room, she knew she couldn’t spend another day without me” *cue fairy tale music in the background*

In real life, depending on the state of the relationship before the added element of a child, a couple may discover things about themselves, which might help strengthen the bond. All is well that ends well, right?

Another angle to consider on the subject is the idea of using the pregnancy as a form of entrapment. In this case, it isn’t really a mistake; instead, it’s a calculated attempt on the part of the woman to bring a child into the relationship. Some people believe that they can tip the scales of indecision by tweaking the parameters of the relationship. Like any calculated business decision, it is a risk. The man might decide that it is immoral, or unethical to have his child unclaimed/unacknowledged; in this vein, he might decide to marry the mother of the child in order to bestow legitimacy on the child. In that case, the woman is getting the title, the husband and all the trappings that come with being ‘settled’. It becomes immaterial that the man was manipulated into the arrangement. He will be very alright!

The deception is not an exclusive right of female folk. Stories abound of how some men swap their partners’ birth control pills with placebo tablets. This is done on the basis that if chic gets pregnant, she won’t go anywhere.

In some cultures, the man doesn’t even have to make an overt proposal of marriage –once it is proven that the pregnancy/child is his, the woman automatically absorbed as the wife. There’s a Yoruba adage that is loosely translated to mean ‘A woman who has had a baby for one ceases to become a concubine – said woman is a wife’

If, however, the entrapment plan is unsuccessful, the woman is stuck with a child for the rest of her life – and a reminder that she took a risk on a project that never took off.

The Pregnancy Ambush is not a new concept; is a culturally cultivated and encouraged – forget what you read on the Internet about your body being the Temple of the Most High. That advice becomes a tiny whisper when you get to the other side of your 30s. And until we’re ready to stop making people feel like they have a deficiency if they’re not married, then, the Pregnancy Ambush is here to stay. We can only continue to encourage people to have protected sex – for their sakes, and for the sake of the child who didn’t ask to be used as a pawn in the Commitment War.