I hope this can pass for a thank you note to all my friends. What I’m trying to do is to set the right mood for November 18. Isn’t that interesting?

Here’s the deal, I’l put my last night’s (unedited) thought for you in black and white to read. I write, you choose what to believe. You can say I’m quirky, I would rather say I was Just fortunate to have captured some crazy roving thoughts.

Tuesday 17.11.09 23:47 Location: Withheld

Alan Jackson was already supplying some cool country music, I could switch off easily with this rhythm cos I’d listened to each track than Alan did. While I started flirting with the computer, I couldn’t help laughing at my typing skill. Ten fingers resting on the keyboard (;LKJ ASDF) unfortunately, only two fingers (one from each hand) was doing the job. Does it matter? No be 50 words per minute. Small thing!

23:51 At this minute I already started developing a feeling of nostalgia. What was my previous November 18s like: The last was fun, at least colleagues had something to laugh about – the big ugly cake.

I don’t think I’ve had those birthday parties with cabin biscuits and coloured water in some funny rubber bottle before. No, mom would rather cook beans for my guests.

Who and who came? Did they line me and my friends up and ‘yelled’ “say mushin!” May be photographers were on strike on most of my childhood birthdays cos hmm… I don’t know. I just hope Mom didn’t make those Agege bread kinda cakes.

Were there enough girls to go round?

(‘Me’ and ‘the other me’ never seem to agree on one thing)

Alter ego: Shior!…what kinda thinking is that, please stop polluting the air with your dirty mind – na bach-eve?

Me: See pot wey dey call kettle black oo, Hmm… girls come sha

Alter ego: I wish I had your time.

23:55…ehen talking about girls, I no dey try at all, I’m not even coming any close to grandpa’s swag. ‘JP’ is a seasoned polygamist (baad guy!) and for Pa, that guy too is learning pretty fast. Legacy,huh?!

23:56 Strolling away from the thrilling thought of “wow! it is a new day”(a fresh page on my diary) to engage the mind in answering some questions.Asking myself at this moment made it a millionth time… and for lost-count times I’ve had to explain to friends and folks why the church is suffering this neglect from me. Sure! I’ve answered this question more than my name. Sometimes with vague explanation, on point in some cases - I have won in most situations by avoiding the argument.

23:58 Why do I call him in times of need if I don’t believe in him? That day in school when that rubbish malaria came (armed to the teeth) with the plan to take me away, I held on to the bible more than my breath. My faith at that moment was at par with daddy GO’s. May be the church thing is what I don’t like.

Alter ego: Then you hate God

Me: Don’t start if you can’t finish it…Do I have to sleep in church to prove that I love God?

Alter Ego: Do not forsake the gathering of thy brethren… Hebrew 10:25. fool!

Me: Oh I see, at least for the first time you are right about something, for eligible single people, it is not a good idea to forsake the gathering. For me…

Alter ego: for you hell is certain, abi?

Me: (Singing) …when I die someday, will I be in heavenly places singing hallelujah, with an angel on the piano, oh oh.. or will I be another contribution, to the earth, the trees and the gra…

Wednesday, 18.11 00:01 My phone rang…guess who?


Posted by Daring
THE faint-hearted birds had retired early to bed with their cadence leaving the crickets and the toads to reign with their creepy tunes. We bolted our windows our doors; then our eyes, sprawled like sardines on a piece of a locally woven mat. A troop of some small-but-mighty vampires also lives on our “bed”. I saw the other children being struck by them intermittently. I became the unselfish host of the mosquitoes –offering a feast for free.

My eyes remained ajar, blurring every image even as the sympathetic moon of the night provided an uninterrupted light through the roof thatch and the crevices on the wall. A pot full of herbs concocted earlier in the day sat on the grill on a corner of our densely populated hut.

I caught a glimpse of an anopheles mosquito gliding cheerfully towards me; now I’m 100% awake like kerosene. I think I heard one of the mosquitoes say, “Wow! This is a place to be…” I was furious about their boastful gestures and wish I could get hold of them and retrieve our blood.

Ours is the first hut on the border of Sahelian Savannah where minors who were vaccinated against meningitis before the virulent outbreak were kept. The children in the second hut are down with rashes, chronic headache and neck stiffness. In the third hut is the batch with more complicated illness like deafness and epilepsy.

The fourth is a morgue!

No family member objected Uncle Tabo’s decision of bringing me to the village after my father was deployed to join the peacekeeping force in Darfur. I miss my parents – Father assured me that he’d be back soon, maybe when the war ends! For mother, cancer already took her so there’s no coming back. All I have left is my big dream of joining the fourth realm of royalty tomorrow.

The night crawled, the cocks won’t crow for they had their own wounds to stitch, so daylight came unannounced.

The entire village is convulsed with grief and fears of children dying every night, so to unravel the cause and find possible awakening from this nightmare, the most revered priest was summoned by the elders of our land to consult the deity. He did openly at the village square with virtually all villagers present. The priest posits vehemently that the afflictions are a show of rage from the gods. “It is an intractable curse…it’s revocable though, we must appease our gods with a ritual, yes! Only one sacrifice and all our afflictions will blow away”. My favourite part! We can’t wait; oya! read your list of palm oil, chicken and cow.

His eyelids flickered simultaneously with the sound he made with his gong, he stopped striking the gong for a moment, gazed like a owl, took a tempestuous sigh and said “For the ritual…” at this point, the silence at the square dwarfs that of the cemetery; the attention on the priest is the same that a good figure gets from the promiscuous eyes of men. He broke the news “We need the lateral incisor of a cockroach, the thumb nail of a python, liver of an ant and …” “STOP!” An elder interrupted his irksome ritual ingredient list.

6 weeks later…

Sometime in April, we had recovered from the pranks the priest played on us but not from our ailing hearts when a renowned pharmacist accompanied by doctors without borders came to our rescue with an untested antibiotic. Our land the lab; our people the specimen.

They left the next day without looking back only for us to start building more huts to relief the fourth. It took us a while to patch their footprints …we filed a (barred) suit and eventually won a trip to Rome.
Posted by Daring

Even on the path of the farthest odyssey
life breathes ceaselessly.
With comrades drenched in endless glee;
bread of oneness is served indiscriminately

Hand in glove, we set out as savage lions
prowling through the canyons
we slaughtered hatred with no gun
dance while we burn our angst in the sun

In the widest desert, through the gale
the howling wilds begets no frail
we fastened our minds – we pray
our armour’s thickened by the day

Amidst the wrathful seas – we stand
brimming the air from the shore of our homeland
is the ambient music, the party’s grand
with a euphonic chorus ‘our heroes are back in the land’.
Posted by Daring

In broad daylight
they draw nigh, waiting for the rain
to restore their lives

they stand in unison
their shadows stand by them

In accord, they all sing for freedom -
the same song apartheid lost to
the same that sets our colour free
the same my unborn ideas sing tirelessly
Posted by Daring
Calumet of our ancestors
shielded jealously like an infant
buried alive like imhotep

On our alley
lives this Vintage, antique
(we walk heedlessly on it)
for decades

Today…
my father stumbles on this treasure
where he could be lost on his armchair
on the terrace;
sending - goodwill message to the moon -
alluring redolence to the gods
exorcising our turmoil

He discovered how to
exhale his wounds
away through a siphon
via the token of peace
freeing ivory Soaring birds –
to spin freely on a dusking sky
far from here
their aerie in a blank air

When he blinks
he bids farewell to his fret;
when he hems
a wound says "I am heal"

Tomorrow…
some men are coming
to sniff their nose around
from the museum – I presume
for my father's treasure.
Posted by Daring
Friday, February 13, 2009 at Friday, February 13, 2009 | 0 comments  
1. I dream in daytime. Sleep at night

2. Weekdays crawl...weekends run.

3. Clef was born in the church, raised in the streets…I was born and raised in the street.

4. I like dancing (when i'm alone)

5. I’m a die-hard Chelsea fan. This club has been breaking my heart in recent time even with Guss Hindink as the new victim sorry caretaker.

6. My future plan as stated in my school year book is “breeding children in multitude for my nation (Nigeria). I don’t know why I’ve not started yet. Nigeria needs children…plenty plenty children..lol

7. I developed a serious phobia for water after watching “deep blue sea” and “the beach”. Still having this awkward feeling that sharks may be somewhere in a pool hiding…don’t laugh pleeeaaasssseee!

8. Calculation - my other phobia. I despise it.

9. I believe sacrifice is a gift your friends and folks deserve anytime.

10. OK…last year I cried while watching a movie, still trying to figure out why.

11. My …girlfriend thinks I’m too good to be true. My ex actually!

12. I enjoy writing. The best time I write is when I want to. At work I do it willy nilly.

13. I’m a Full Blooded Indigene of 9ja. I believe so much in my mofatherland.

14. It took my parents like a decade to know i’m a good child…still having the same problem with some friends…Don’t worry, take ur time!

15. Does Vals affect birth & abort....rate? Just wondering!

16. I’m a fan of Batatunde Raji Fashola. I think he’s a good, responsive and active governor.

17. I tell lies when necessary e.g.… at job interviews…knowing what the interviewer(s) wants to hear and saying it, is the rule of the game. Y should u lose a job for no reason?

18. I believe in God and Jesus as my personal saviour. I also believe that after bad leadership, religion comes before brain drain in Africa’s drawbacks. These are the proud parents of poverty - the mother of epidemics

19. I Laugh Out Loud! A lot!

20. I tap loads of inspiration from listening to music.

21. I chose Solomon as my baptismal name (long time ago)…My Uncle who’s a pastor objected it…his reasons were not convincing enough, so Solomon it is!

22. Déjà vu!

23. I love country music. Odd? At a time I was so much into Akpala.

24. I hardly stare, but when my eyes r on it, I grasp...

25. …some things are better left unsaid.
Posted by Daring

Let’s scour this gungy cloud
Shave this shaggy coast
Comb and keep it kempt

Let’s rinse these filthy hands
Purge this putrid game
Be virescent - be potent

Let’s unfold these idle arms
Slay this graft
Fumigate these cankerworms

Let’s cheer this whistling breeze
Curse the storm
Raise our thumbs to this ornament

Let’s offer Eko our mother of pearl
Revile her saboteurs
Revere this new warrior like ruby

More than ever, we have this pride of belonging. Thank you BRF. Eko oni baje oo!
Dare Idowu 2009
Posted by Daring

Some say replace the ‘B’ in his name with an ‘S’ and see if people would not take to their heels. The S became some people's role model before the B (their names are written in different inks in the annals of history though). In fact, when I punch the B on my computer, it suggests the S. The sentiment of semblance in names and the colour of his skin were buried as he was ticked by almost all of us to rule the ‘new world’.

The 47-year-old African-American yesterday became the 44th American president after being sworn in with the same bible used by Abraham Lincoln in 1861 (148 years ago). Today, it becomes very emotional for the human race; we sing in admiration not because he’s making history but because he’s history!

This erstwhile Illinois Senator in his preferred mien of rolling up his sleeves is offering this generation an opportunity to live in an era with a legend whose story will forever sell the tabloids. We are writing history today for others to read. Franklin Roosevelt, Abraham Lincoln, Barack Obama, Martin Luther King jnr and Daring (that’s me!) are great custodians of hope. Our effrontery to challenge conventions singles us out. Our biographies remain an indispensable source of inspiration to many.

Uneasy lies on the head that wears the crown – after taking the oath of office in the midst of wars, pall of recession and the world feeling the sting of different crisis -he can’t afford to sit on the (dilapidated) fence neither can he sleep with his two eyes shut. He must be a boys’ scout or rather a cowboy!

It’s no news that he has a chunk of files to attend to upon taking a role which no man of his breed had played …My first day in office even as a rookie public relations executive (at the threshold of my career though) was not ‘red-carpeted’, (at least he still got about 2 million crowd at a befitting inauguration ceremonies planned with $150 million). Conversely, in my case, my boss did not look at me twice to know if my head was too big for his liking, Or if i was too short to be a good PRE. He could not tell if my shirt was too crispy or crumpled…instead he emphasised that he’s not offering me an armchair job so I needed to step up my game even at the point of starting it - A good lesson this brother can learn from a fellow brother man (Don’t worry…I’m not sending my invoice yet).

Okay back at home…oh no, another official assignment to Ibadan…Please I’ll be back but in the mean time I want you to know that I don’t join the chorus of ‘yes we can’ because it is a cliché.

To be continued…
Posted by Daring
Posted by Daring
The time is now, when almost all moments bizarre, good, bad, common and etcetera will be arrested. It will only define me;

tell people how much of a good vigilante I am.

Imagine the usual brawl on the streets of Lagos, when the lout escapes with the bash

Imagine the off-the-cuff visit of the rainbow with just fingers pointing and naked eyes registering just to the mind.

Imagine the picture of a man falling over from a skyscraper (God forbid…but there’s no good news as bad news).

Would my parents have told me they never argued – all in the name of trying to render marital advice – if I had captured one

of their sessions.

Ever wondered how we got the clips of the American Airlines Flight 11 spontaneously crashing into the WTC?

The real picture of Clinton and Liewinsky at the real location would have been a scoop for me, you know. (that's if it ever happened)

…and when events unfold without me apprehending them, I ask myself “where is the ‘paparazzi’ in me?’ WATCH OUT!
Posted by Daring

She needs more than a step to make it work where only a step works for her peers. She’ll overtax her voice to be heard, she’ll love to play and be equal with peers. She’s got their nature, not their nurture.  

What different is it if they were dead; after all, parental care is a dream, a fantasy she longs to have. She is an inseparable friend of Physical and emotional ill treatment. She thought they were foster parents because to them she’s a burden.  

Orphans are still starving and languishing around the place. Abandoned here and there, striving to taste life at least, if good life is a luxury. Who would now listen to the story of a child with living parents? I think many ‘strangers’ would, with a truck-full of advice. “You need to appreciate your parents, they gave you life; they can’t provide all your needs”.  She didn’t ask for their heads. “You should be thankful to God, some people just want the presence of their parents, nothing else. You don’t have any problem, all you need do is persevere and make them see reasons that you are a good child!” Hmm…so easy to say! People know her shoe hurts but the degree is what nobody can tell except her. 

A pawn. Sorry a child whose father is a celebrated philanthropist in all the local joints in the neighborhood. “Serve them round, we spend money, money don’t spend us”. In fact if he decides to be a responsible and a responsive father tomorrow, Mama G’s beer parlour and other beverage stores around would experience a drastic decline in sales and possibly wind up after a short while. Her mother is not the social type that goes out drinking. She has a deep repugnance for ‘Owambe’. She’s a good moth…hmm…No!...a good woman. She respects and honours her husband. Tithe, offering, vigil, and prayer meetings cannot wait for anything. “Prayers can solve it all.” 

Her parents could not stand the shame of seeing their child getting her own education only by doing chores and hawking while their friends’ children are in school. Only on this basis, she got dumped in a public primary school. A school where teachers embark on self and general strike at will. Compulsory Holidays on rainy days – special thanks to dilapidated school structures. She learns more of her teachers’ merchandise than the school curriculum (that’s if there is any). 

She’s got a big map of ‘God knows where’ on the back of her school uniform - the best aunty Obioma, the 'cut and patch' expert on their street could do to rescue her aged and pale school uniform.   

One day - one of those days that our thoughts are perfectly interpreted in Acts and scenes - her mother showed her so much love and affection. Her father joined the chorus, he cuddled and kissed her; they gazed into her tears-friendly eyes that now embrace a great sigh of bliss as they all merry together. Whoever wrote the script of that dream is a fan of happy ending …and they live happily ever after. Not yet! The dream bounced and became an unforgettable nightmare. In reverie of a sweet dream, they could read happiness in block letters on her face. This is considered a big threat to the family, especially the mother whose pastor had earlier proclaimed that one of the ways to pick a witch in the family is when their sons or daughters laugh or smile indiscriminately. That day, she got the beating of her life!   

She’s vulnerable, naïve. She ponders about several happenings as every little thing turns out to be a misery; she has a long list of disturbing and unanswered questions. She’s growing with a strong feeling of isolation and alienation from her folks. For now she’ll choose freedom over love. She desires an open door to see a new dawn. New beginning blessed with joy and a more assuring future only that her elder brothers are still out there trying to make a living as their background had inflicted a great deal of hardship on them. They drip to earn a penny.   

Who is SHE? She is any Nigerian Child subjected to physical, emotional, and mental ill treatment of any sort. She lives everywhere in the country. She's a child not a burden! The other Money spinning cause dwarfs her cause so nobody is paying attention to her plights. Her parents are mere public smokers who get pardoned every time because there are murder, looting, kidnapping and other ‘serious’ case files pending. It’s a pity!

Posted by Daring
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