THE VIRTUAL BOOK INTERVIEW

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THE UNDERBELLY OF THE CITY

This post is dedicated to the true city dwellers.

Those who actually understand the workings of the city. The UNDERBELLY portion, that is. They definitely don't reside on the island; that would be a misnomer because their socio-economic status and indulgent upbringing would not allow this. (Sue me, nau?)

They are the mainland residents. The everyday-type.
They appear at first light with their wares in tow; backpacks, baskets, sacks, a sharp eye, a furtive glance and a fearless stance.

Today my hustle took me out a bit earlier than usual and you know what I saw?
Two full grown men eating a fully prepared breakfast as early as 4.45am under the early morning dew sitting on a bench at CMS. I stared at them like they were the missing Chibok girls and began to wonder. For them to find a fully prepared meal by 5 a.m., the food seller must have started cooking it at about 4 a.m.(give or take an a.m.) and that invariably means that the industrious and ambitious food merchant must have gotten up as early as 3 a.m.

3 a.m.? WTF??! Is she related to Batman? Excuse me for making a ruckus out of all this but if she got up at 3 am when did she sleep?

Here I was thinking that we (the upwardly mobile, semi-social class) were the ones that make the city what it is. But I just realized that if we are the ones that make the city the bustling socio-economic giant that it is, they are the ones that make us.

With their selfless loyalty to their trades, they have given the city a subtle lifeline that keeps us all greased and machine-ready to deliver in our own fields.

So I hail those out there (Not able to even read this because they are unable or presently on the streets) plowing the curbs and corners of the city.

We see you! Even if we pretend not to. And we understand that we are all a well-greased team, oftentimes working in tandem to make this city better.

At the risk of sounding like a pot-bellied political aspirant, I bring my ranting to a close with an overused but nevertheless apt statement, Eko oni baje!

ARE MEN DUMB?

ARE MEN DUMB?

Men are giving up on reading books because they prefer to watch the big screen version instead, a study commissioned by the Reading Agency has revealed.

Researchers found that being too busy, not enjoying reading and preferring to spend their spare time on the internet means men read fewer books...

http://www.thebookseller.com/news/reading-agency-survey-finds-63-men-rarely-read.html

HOUSE HUNTING NAIJA STYLE COMPETITION WINNERS

A few weeks back Nigeria property Centre an online real estate company launched a House hunting competition.

The task was quite simple.

Share your personal house hunting experience and win some cash.

Just like that!

I instantly dived into it and churned up an experience from my archives.

Ok, not to blow my trumpet but i won!

Here are the other winners.

http://www.nigeriapropertycentre.com/blog/competitions/winners-of-the-house-hunting-naija-style-competition

House Hunting Naija Style Competition entry.


THE HUNT


In exactly 2 weeks I had visited every nook and cranny of Amuwo Odofin.

I had expected it to be quite simple. Silly me.

You wanted an apartment (people looked at me strangely whenever I used the word ‘apartment’ rather than the crude equivalent of ‘house’- so I quickly switched.)in a particular location?-all you had to do was do a quick search on the internet for a match, send in a few e-mails to register your intent and you were in business!

That was way back in the UK. This was Nigeria. Things weren’t quite that simple.

I first had to ‘hunt’ down a House Agent, (every one of them swore an oath on their mother’s life that they were trustworthy.) then I was rigorously scrutinized by the aforementioned house agent in a one-on-one, no-bars-hold interview session that included virtually everything about me from a detailed description of my birthplace to my sexual orientation.

When I offered my resistance to this line of questioning, ‘Baba Gift’ (that was what he was called.) simply laughed and informed me that my intending Landlord would do worse.

We had our first quarrel when he asked for a registration fee of N2, 000. I hit the roof declaring that I couldn’t possibly pay for a service he was yet to render.

He smiled patiently and explained over and over again.

“Oga, na so we dey do am for here. Nobody go gree show you house unless you don pay registration moni.”

I finally gave in and paid up, after getting a solemn promise from him that I wanted to see as much houses as possible.
I should have kept my big mouth shut.

We chartered a ‘Maruwa’-the trending tricycle that was slowly flooding the streets of Lagos- and we were on our way.
The first house was located in a relatively clean street somewhere in satellite town but the ‘representative’ of the Landlord (I soon learnt that the house business had a scary network of cabals and in-house privileged people that were as powerful as the house owner himself.)Insisted that he wanted what he called a ‘family man’. Married-preferably with kids.

Like I was planning to remain single till I died.

There was no point in trying to make him see reason so we moved to the next location. The house (I use the term loosely.) smelt like Bob Marley and a few of his choice cousins had just had a marathon smoking session there.

I cringed and quickly signaled Baba Gift, tugging at his shirt sleeve. We left a few minutes after we came.

The rest of the hunt was a blur. From one apartment to the next, one explanation to the other. Sometimes it was the price of the house, and at other times it was the agency/agreement fee but more often than not it was the location- hidden in a remote, rat-infested area that would have been more at home in any village.

I was drained and begged Baba Gift to stop. He insisted we continue the next day as we had only seen eleven of the sixty four houses on his list.

I promised to call him. He said he would rather call me. I cringed again.

It’s been two weeks now and I’m still searching.


*With start-ups like Nigeria property centre, the experience is slowly changing. I am yet to patronize the brand but i am a firm advocate for a more hassle free experience so as i browse through the site, i smile knowing that i wouldn't miss Baba Gift.
I am sure he wouldn't miss me either.

OJB AGAIN....

OJB AGAIN....

Ojb was at iroking yesterday to sign a contract with the newly revampled irocking brand. The veteran producer was clad in a simple t-shirt and sandals.

Humble as ever he granted a few fans some time to take memorable pictures.

I stood by his side and confirmed that the newly installed kidney was working perfectly.

SANGO VERSUS THOR....

SANGO VERSUS THOR....

Content creation has always been an issue with Nigerians.

We pride ourselves on folklore stories, embellishing the transient deitys that inhabit this agelong stories and their alleged escapades, sometimes far beyond belief.

A point in case is the legendary yoruba deity called Sango.

Sango; sired by two mystic personalies (Agaju and Obatala), he inhabited the extra-ordinary ability to wield thunder.
His legend grew as he plundered the land with his magical prowess, making a lasting impression on both friends and foes.
The pertinent question to this cultural assertion is this.

Where is Sango today? Where is the thunder-wielding cultural hero that plied our lands?

I will tell you.

He is Inprisoned in the minds of folklore lovers and Cultural enthusiasts. Unable to achieve more than he already has.
Did i hear you ask what more is he supposed to achieve?

Is the famed mighty Thor not his mate? Possesing the same extra-ordinary power to control thunder. How come the handsome broadchested deity is a hollywood superstar today and Sango is not?

My people, Sango has failed us or better still we have failed him, obliterating his legacy, expunging his brand name from the sands of time and making him look weak.

Weaker than Thor.

I bet if the two of them were put side by side in some amphitheatre somewhere and allowed to battle, that Thor would be knocked senseless before he can even lift up his oversized hammer.

No joke. Can Thor spew out thunder from his mouth? Dem born am well?

Yet Thor has gained artificial prominence because someone took the time to brand the scantily clad god.

Yet our own Sango lies in undeniable obscurity , struggling with the myopic illusions of our unadventurous minds.

This is a clarion call to all Nollywood movie producers and Hollywood directors; please rebrand our beloved Sango and save his enviable legacy.

So when our children ask us in the nearest future who Sango was, we won't stutter in confusion exposing our shameless ignorance but point them to a book, documentary or movie to help explain the life of this tyrant deity.

God bless Sango.


Cultural facts.
Sango is venerated in Haiti, as a god of thunder and weather; in Brazil, he is known as Xangô; in Umbanda, as the very powerful loa Nago Shango; in Trinidad as Shango god of Thunder, drumming and dance ; and in Cuba, Puerto Rico and Venezuela – the Santeria equivalent of St. Barbara, he is known as Changó.