Nameless, Faceless, No Good Anita

In Nigeria, when you don't have a job, you might as well be invisible.

You are quickly ostracized, discarded and disregarded as if you don't matter in the greater sense of things. They want to introduce you with a tag line:

Here is Anita, she works for such and such company, or she is the such and such.

I am fine with being introduced as me, and I am a lawyer. I will always be a lawyer but I may not always work for such and such or hold such and such title in a certain company or government. They think that it defines you in society when you can claim your stake in your job or probably in your marriage. If I am not working for such and such, I must be married to such and such and that is just as important. And if I have neither then I fail to matter, simply non-existent. They may or may not introduce me, as a matter of fact I won't even be in their space enough to be introduced to anyone. 

I remember 2 years ago, asking someone if I'd be more attractive if I had a job. He replied point blank: Yes. I am pretty sure if I had asked this same person if I'd be more attractive if I was slimmer he probably would have replied the same. Pure dick that guy was. 

I remember talking to someone at the latter stages of said job (that I actually hated by the way), in between the phone call I told him, my contract with subject company ends in a couple of weeks, and before I knew it this person hung up the phone. I imagine that as soon as news goes round that I've found another gig, that I now work for such and such as such and such, this same person will randomly remember my phone number out of the blues and start calling me up, just to say hi. Pfffttt...then I will suddenly have a face and title then. 

The point is, a job defines you and gives you a face to society. Without a job you're just one of those nameless, faceless (and dare I say it, jobless) Nigerians that are lost in the 170 Million rubble. They want you to join the 1% who have risen above society to gain jobs, societal status, power and are somebody. If you're not somebody, the 1% doesn't as much as remember your phone number. 

It's this mindset that suckered me into taking that shit job in the first place. 

I remember telling this same terse gentleman, that I don't do well in an environment I do not like. The job and the location have to be a good fit otherwise I start to crumble. He replied simply: Are you married to Lagos? 

I also remember thinking during my interview that this is probably a job no one else wants.

I asked their eager faces as they welcomed me to the company:

Is this a revolving door? Is this a position where people come in and as soon as they get in they are looking for the exit door. They gave me some PC answer which I pretended to swallow but in my mind, I kept repeating, I bet you no one else probably wanted this gig so why not give it to the girl who currently  doesn't have a job. 

Three months, in I realized that I had made a big mistake and I was itching for a way to get out of it. 

In hindsight, I regret it. I regret it completely.

What am I doing in PH, stuck in the armpit of Nigeria?

I regret it and would definitely not have done it.

Make your own decisions, Anita. Not decisions people talk you into making, but decisions guided by your gut and your personal experiences. Make those decisions for yourself, because the only person who can get you out of your problems is you, the only person who experiences your problems firsthand is you, so make them for you having you in mind.

And for the rest of Nigeria who ostracizes people just because they are (i) jobless,  (ii) without a spouse, and (iii) without a name with some clout, I feel sorry for them. Now I understand why God never stops punishing us in this country. We stopped being "good" and just became plain ole "greedy."

Serendipitous Fairytales

I extracted the post below from my first online journal and reposted it on September 13, 2016.

In need of creative content, I had rummaged through my online journal for material that would inspire me to write, failing to find new words to say, I instead chose to rehash thoughts that had spoken to me years ago. 

I had spent that week catching different scenes from the iconic (to me anyway) movie, Seven on cable. I eventually decided it deserved to be viewed in its entirety so I DVR'd. I spent the morning of September 20 (the day of) watching Seven and coincidentally I had scheduled, The Break Up to be recorded on that day as well. It was probably recording as the news broke.

What does this all mean? Nothing probably. In the post below I had just dreamt about Brad (in those days when he occupied my daydreams) and just happened to watch his movie. Cut to present day and there are images of him everywhere, of his work and then of course, now of his private life and they all seem to occur just at that very moment I happen to think of him. Serendipitous, huh?

I am saddened by the news and I can't get over how it all turned out. We all want to see happy endings because it helps us believe in the truth, in the reality of their fruition. When they crumble, shatter into delicate little pieces that merely reflect what once was (a mere crack would have been sufficient) even though we scramble to assemble the pieces, our belief in the fairytales of life disintegrates with it.

How are we to love, if it's obvious that love does not exist?

Taken from my journal on October 14th, 2001

I happened to catch Legends of the Fall on cable this evening. It was uncanny because I had just thought about Brad Pitt. I rarely watch TV, and I can't remember the last time they played that movie. When was it made? 1994. Creepy stuff. The moment I talk about someone or dream about them I see them in a movie...weird. A couple of scenes at the end of that movie always bring tears to my eyes. It did then, and it still does now.

When the 2 brothers buried the one woman that had come between all 3 of them, and the elder one said to Brad (the middle defiant one), "I obeyed every rule, that of God and of man's, and you broke every single one of them. Yet they still loved you more than they loved me." I asked myself that same question but rephrased. Why do people who break life's rules still turn out with every wish of theirs granted?

For Brad’s character, it was simply because he loved with his heart...he loved from his heart and he loved passionately and obsessively to the point of compulsion. Maybe that was why he found it in him to break every possible rule that conflicted with that love inside him... But for my own question...honestly I do not know why life's disobedient members succeed abundantly. I guess I should probably add it to the long list of questions you may get to ask God when you see Him. Like the song says, "What if God was one of us...what would you ask him?"

I will ask Him this.

The Face of Young Love in Africa

The other night in between my TV binge watching I overheard some loud screams.

I paused the TV so I could investigate the source, as I looked outside, I saw what appeared to be my gateman beating up his live-in girlfriend. Mind you, I am not for certain that she is his girlfriend. At most, she is his live-in companion, especially as he has denied her as his girlfriend on several occasions when I've referred to her as such. Nevertheless they live together and have been known to share some flirty glances. Hence, for the sake of defining such an indeterminate arrangement, I chose to categorize her as his girlfriend.

On this night, they seemed to be having a very violent altercation, he yelled at her and she yelled back. With each stroke from her, he responded with male bravado, sending her several slaps and kicks to her body. Her screams had cut through my TV show, causing me to pause the DVR to listen closely. I looked at them from my balcony, shocked at the deplorable state of their interactions and once he caught my stare, he greeted me warmly as if nothing was happening: "Aunty, Good evening." I asked him to kindly not beat a woman in my presence. But just as soon as he seemed as if he was about to succumb, she responded with a shove to his chest of which it was only the man in him that felt the need to reciprocate with additional slaps and blows. This continued for awhile so I decided to remove myself from the situation and not observe this blatant physical abuse. Passers by stopped and stared, some asked him to stop, some just stood there stunned at how violent this altercation was getting. I eventually heard a man's voice, somewhat a Mallam (Aboki), yell at them authoritatively to take it down several notches. They, to my dismay, complied. I silently thanked this concerned citizen.

Days later when I saw him, I asked, in front of his fellas, if his girlfriend had moved out. They laughed before he smirked in response. I assumed that would be the end of her and their unassuming arrangement.

Cut to early this morning, a lady knocked on my door to alert me to a mailman looking for me. When she knocked I did not want to believe it was her. She said repeatedly: It's me. As I opened the door I was greeted with her presence. After attending to my matter, I felt like turning to her to ask: Why are you still here? Didn't he beat you up the last time? Haven't you had enough? But I decided to simply mind my business.

According to divorce papers, Brad and Angie were separated on September 15. 5 days later (or less) she filed for divorce. How mad and intolerant of your man's B.S. do you have to be that it takes you just 5 days to decide, enough is enough of this B.S. I am outta here and he can go fuck himself.

When you contrast that with my gateman and his inconsequential girlfriend, you realize that African relationships are a bag of tolerable ills compared to the Western World relationships. What my gateman did to his chick has probably been passed down to him from generation to generation - Yeah, smack the girl around a bit it will get her to act right, it will get her to respect you. And after the girl acts right, puts her attitude in check, she crawls right back to her man, humble and atoned. When you think about it as young lovers they are supposed to be in the throes of passion, at the honeymoon phase of their romance not exhibiting inexplicable public violence towards each other.

Love in Africa. Why are we more tolerable of relationship transgressions? I am not saying cut off circulation after 5 days but however, if your partner does something grave enough, so utterly despicable, maybe not only cut ties, sever them completely.

Adult Backpacking

Spent 8 days in September "backpacking" in Lagos.

I am of age, not exactly young and sprightly, with a big old suitcase, and a lot of work/life experience behind me. But here I am, starting over. And in this starting over campaign, homes are not made readily available to you. Sometimes you have to take them. Not forcefully, but impose yourself on the homeowner. This means crashing on their couch, even when they scream that they don’t have space for you. You offer to take the couch, offer to take any available space, offer not to be an inconvenience, offer to leave when they ask you to and escape early in the morn with your suitcase, on to the next destination, ready to do it all over again, suitcase in hand.

So after 8 days of what seemed like adult backpacking across Mainland, Lekki and then, the (Eleko) Beach, I am happy to return to my own home and bed. Even though that home happens to be located in a city I abhor, I'll take my own space, bed and couch (maybe not my own cooking) anytime.

I found myself explaining what “backpacking” means to a young friend of mine, who falls squarely within the “I backpack across Europe” age. Yet she had no clue what it meant or the sense of adventure and self-discovery this seemingly selfless act represents. I had to consult Wikipedia for the complete overview of what I was trying to explain, which seemed like this Western World altruistic concept. Even then, to me, Wiki still failed to aptly paint the actual scenario of the experience garnered from backpacking.

According to Wiki, "the average age of backpackers has gradually increased over time, and it is common for people in their 30s, 40s and older to backpack during an extended career break." Or a career slum.

Those older folks must want to invade other people’s space, or have their own alone adult time invaded as well, temporarily rattled, no schedule, no structure just living that loner looser austere lifestyle while they wait out the next direction in their lives. Much rather like I am right now.

I want to thank all the "host families" (LOL), aka friends who opened up their homes and beachside resort to this lovely energetic but sometimes moody young lady to crash while she conducted her monthly business visit in Lagos. Capping off a trip that started quite tumultuously at the beach gave it an exhilarating touch. The ocean is truly a blessing from God.

It's always reassuring of life when you can give love and receive love back. It's one of the few joys of life that mankind can be their brother's keepers in their time of need. I often pray that no matter how bad the economy gets and capitalistic (and often greedy) we all become, that as we chase the almighty Dollar (Naira) that we never loose sight of what's important, giving back, paying it forward, and sending some positive energy to the world. It's what makes us human.

Until next month, I hope I can get some more "host families" volunteer to take me on this adult backpacking adventure.

The Personal and The Professional

I once knew this girl.
Pretty, somewhat attractive, refreshing.
She loved to laugh. To Live. Loud.
And all she wanted from this life
Was to be happy.
Simple wish.
Happy.
Professionally. Personally.
The merger of the two.
Peaceful union.
So difficult to attain.
Of which we all aspire.
So she hoped. Prayed. Wished
On impossible things.
Waiting for that moment to come.
When she could achieve the balance.
Merger of the two.
As the years went by
She slowly realized
No matter how hard she hoped
Prayed. Wished.
On impossible things.
Of which this seemed the most impossible
She could never really achieve
This equilibrium
This attainment of balance
Was beyond her reach
She couldn't even get half
Of the whole
They both seemed to always
Slip Away
Never close to even a grip
So she hoped, Prayed. Wished
She could learn to live
In the void
Their absence created.
Until the day they'd show up
She made herself comfortable
In the void.

Of Obedience and Love

Locks of Love in Paris

I happened to catch Legends of the Fall on cable this evening. It was uncanny because I had just thought about Brad Pitt. I rarely watch TV, and I can't remember the last time they played that movie. When was it made? 1994. Creepy stuff. The moment I talk about someone or dream about them I see them in a movie...weird. A couple of scenes at the end of that movie always bring tears to my eyes. It did then, and it still does now. 

When the 2 brothers buried the one woman that had come between all 3 of them, and the elder one said to Brad (the middle defiant one), "I obeyed every rule, that of God and of man's, and you broke every single one of them. Yet they still loved you more than they loved me." I asked myself that same question but rephrased. Why do people who break life's rules still turn out with every wish of theirs granted? 

For Brad’s character, it was simply because he loved with his heart...he loved from his heart and he loved passionately and obsessively to the point of compulsion. Maybe that was why he found it in him to break every possible rule that conflicted with that love inside him... But for my own question...honestly I do not know why life's disobedient members succeed abundantly. I guess I should probably add it to the long list of questions you may get to ask God when you see Him. Like the song says, "What if God was one of us...what would you ask him?" 

I will ask Him this.

Envy.

Look at you

So much awesomeness in one body

The look, fierce

The walk, determined

The gaze, feminine and approachable

Oozing of confidence

Pride

Hope

Defiance

Selfish Beauty

It's a crime to be this well put together

Especially in our time, in our now

Anywhere

That's why you're the envy

Of everyone

Who can stand this intense fierceness

Certainly not they?

They misunderstand it

What else can they do?

But try to tear it down

Brick by brick

Hoping it will shed it of its beauty

It's hold.

It's poised exterior.

It's confidence.

But this gal is unshakable

God crafted this masterpiece together

With grace and love and faith

Made it smolder with perfection

So go ahead...envy

What else can you do?