ktravula – a travelogue!

Browsing the archives for the Soliloquy category.

I Believe, I think, Unfortunately!

I believe in development.

But many times, if you would ask me to tell you what exactly would be my indices of development, I might not immediately be able to point at much. (It would depend on where I am, won’t it?) But if you asked me about Nigeria, the first would definitely be a 24 hour power supply and a fast, reliable internet access. Then a repair of local fabric industries in Kaduna, a return of groundnut pyramids in Kano, cocoa farms in Ibadan and coal in Enugu.

But then if we had all of that, plus a higher life expectancy, healthy food for (almost) all, good healthcare and good social services, I’m pretty sure that we’ll still find something to complain about if we wanted it badly enough. Won’t we? There seems to be an inherent cynicism that never seems to go anywhere. We may start complaining that the neighbouring country seemed to be getting more action in the international scene and we want some of the action too. I bet that one of the reason why the first democratic dispensation was scuttled was that people still weren’t satisfied with the situation of the time even though they had better food, better education and better healthcare. This is not a Nigerian problem. It’s humanity’s.

However, I believe so much in the potential for development in Nigeria especially, and the tendency for things to get better if we talk about them often, commit ourselves into making them work, and helping to maintain current structures that already serve us well. But some times it seems pretty much like a futile effort with no light at the end of the tunnel. In the end, every drop of contribution will go a long way into producing a flood of results.

I’m sounding like a politician or someone hoping to run for public office, right? I hope not, because behind the hope and optimism is a nagging skepticism. I’d just read the preface to George Carlin’s Brain Droppings again. George is an amazingly creative thinker whose ideas sometimes frighten me within the folds of their allure. Here we do not completely agree, but I’ve read the words very many times over and I find them interesting. Listen to him though:

“My interest in ‘issues’ is merely to point out how badly we’re doing, not to suggest a way we might do better. Don’t confuse me with those who cling to hope. I enjoy describing how things are, I have no interest in how the ‘ought to be.’ And I certainly have no interest in fixing them. I sincerely believe that if you think there’s a solution, you’re part of the problem. My motto: Fuck Hope…” He continues “I view my species with a combination of wonder and pity, and I root for its destruction. And please don’t confuse my point of view with cynicism; the real cynics are the ones who tell you everything’s gonna be all right…”

Could he be right? I sometimes wish I could say all that. And then I remember that my name isn’t George, I’m not Irish American, and I don’t occupy the same societal milieu as the comedian who died at 71 in 2008. In this day of terrorist threats, fear of the apocalypse, global warming/climate change, handguns infiltrations, gun-totting robbers, unsafe cars, non-universal healthcare, unsafe drugs, and underpaid airplane pilots among others, we’ll be lucky to even make it to 50. It certainly requires more than just a few shots of illegal drugs in one’s veins to adopt such a confident stance in the preface to a best-selling work. Personal confidence with a large shot of daredevilry is much needed. With all that however, perhaps a nagging inability to look into the eye of day, yell “Fuck Hope” and really mean it, and move on with life has kept me from the really funner roles.

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Pictures taken at the 350 vigil in front of the White House on December 13th 2009 organized to pressure the government to take (its commitment on) Climate Change more seriously.

Outward Bound

I told a close friend that if I return to the US again, I will do so with mixed feelings, and she freaked out. “Why,” she must have thought, “would I relate with such levity to a golden chance to study in God’s own country?” Well, I continued, I am happy to reconnect with places and people that I love and who love having me around, but I also would be missing the company of those who love, respect and cherish me here. It is the beginning of a kind of cultural hybridity that I welcome with open arms, and the mixed feeling reserved for such mixed blessings. I was just beginning to fully enjoy the company of my hosts when it was time for me to return. Now here I am, not altogether fully integrated again when another duty calls.

Now, on the day that this adopted second country gave me a pass to come back into her arms, I suddenly developed another thirst for new adventures, and new possibilities seemed to open up. I admit, I should be happy, and I am. On the visa application forms were question as to whether I intend to conduct any terroristic activities against the United States, or whether I’ve been a convicted criminal. What? Well, I wonder how Nelson Mandela would fare under such questioning :). But you could could see the point of the immigration folks. The first thing to worry about if you’re caught trying to blow your junk on a plane into Detroit is how much trouble you’d be in for having first lied under oath.

Now this seemed like August last year all over again, and I’m here as stoic as before, not outwardly grinning, yet wishing for the very best in coming possibilities. If the question is “Will I miss Nigeria?”, the answer probably would be “yes”, but said with a readiness to accept the

Farewell to a Good Year

Never getting a chance at the end of 2009 to make the usual resolutions and contrite restitutions meant for the last moments before the year slips by, let me pretend that this is the last night of the year, a few hours before the countdown into a new year. On December 2009, I was in that faraway place with the shadow of an errant Nigerian panty bomber lurking just around in hush conversations. A better scenery than sitting in a church service amidst noises and supplications to the deity of the new year, I was floating in an imaginary continent of my dreamland; just one of those instances I can remember in my short life where the momentary passage of one day did not live to its expectation of being super grand. A few hours later, dozens of text messages from everywhere told me that another year had passed by, at least in our time zone. As the sun moved westwards, so did the day, and very soon we were all satiated in the ordinariness of such a significant passage, far less ordinary than December 31, 1999, just a decade earlier, spent in the throes of questions and skepticisms.

Tonight could be a more significant eve, who knows, perhaps because if this blog does not continue after today, we can at least say that it lived as fully as it could over twelve interesting moons. And if it does, we can say that the first year was good, and that the second should be better. In any case, there is cause for celebration. Now, in the style of the specialists of such occasions, there should be drinks and clinking glasses. Yes, yes, I remember when men were boys, and a good time meant plenty suya and a pleasant conversation amidst howling dogs and a quiet, or soft music-infested, environment. A bottle of Ponche spread around on cold soda drinks produced what has now become the legendary KT Martini. No, I don’t recommend that now. Get a bottle of yogurt along with a box of Don Simon. Get a mix in the right proportion, read a good poem (I’ll put one up shortly, the last post for this “year”) and drink to health, long life, and many more interesting adventures. Call it KTramarula, a drink on me.

A Checklist for July

I feel guilty. I neglected this blog for much of the time this month, and that was because of two nagging issues: internet, and internet. I have concluded that Starcomms was actually a wrong choice of connection for me because I’ve been fond of using it at different places. Not having the connection spread of bigger networks like Multilinks and MTN, they charge more, and offer less. In my next life, or as soon as I find someone to buy this one off me, I will make a different choice. Starcomms is more expensive and offers less national coverage than the other connections. I’ve put this to test. In any case, there are still a few nagging things in my mind and I’ll try to say them before the month escapes from my grasp.

Just in case you haven’t noticed, July concludes my first twelve months of blogging on this portal. Alright, if blogs were babies, this one should by now have started mouthing “ba-ba-ba”. It is for this reason that I will also try to complete the pattern that has been the case since that auspicious night in Lagos in August last year when I made the silly decision to begin blogging :). It has been full of ups and downs. I’ve blogged sitting down on the dusty floor of a train station in St. Louis, on a delayed plane in New York, in a crowded bar watching the World Cup final in Ilorin, with a laptop battery on the verge of dying out in the absence of power, and even under the influence of several bottles of Satzenbrau in pleasant company. It’s been good. And let me confess, I have wanted to abandon it many times. But if I did, how would I survive it?

Now if this blog were a book, August 2009 would be the first chapter, titled THE ENTRANCE. The second month of September would be BLENDING IN. October would be IMMERSION while November would be DISCOVERIES. December was ADVENTURES WITH THE COLD and January SIGHTS. February would be tagged BREASTS & CHRIS, a whole dedication to the Mardi Gras in St. Louis and adventures with Chris, March would be CLASSROOMS, April would be LOSING RESISTANCES, May would be A FOOT IN TWO WORLDS, June would be BADAGRY, and July 2010 would be AROUND NIGERIA. Now that I think about it, it might make a thrilling read, if only a self-publication to distribute among friends, and not for the general public, just like that old one Drawing a Straight Line from Hamburng to Ibadan, never before seen by more than a handful of people.

I have not yet completely processed the lessons, the essence and the thrills of my short trip around Nigeria, perhaps particularly because it was so short and I’ve not yet giving myself the right reflecting space. No, no quasi-perfunctory visit would do next time. I may even need up to four to six months to have as much impact as I would have loved. Maybe volunteer in a local secondary school to teach the English language. Maybe teach them to act a play at their end of the year party. Maybe help construct a traffic sign of paint the zebra crossing at one of their community roads. I look forward in the nearest future to a longer immersion exercise in local communities in order to contribute in a more meaningful way to the lives of citizens. Jos is a special case, and as much as I tried, I was not able to reach the Red Cross officials this time. What have they been doing? How could one help?

All in all, it’s been a nice twelve months and I thank you for being there with me. I have just agreed to work with Nokia to promote their new product Nokia C3, so in the next couple of days, you will see Nokia related posts and quizzes one of which will earn one reader of this blog a Nokia C3 prototype to be presented at the launching in Lagos in August. (See this previous post.) From what I hear, this is open only to residents in Nigeria. So if you are interested, and/or you know anyone interested in winning the prototype, stay tuned to this page. All you would need to do is to be the first to answer a set of questions coming up in the next few days.

Well, happy end of month, when it comes. I am hoping that my last post for this month will be a poem rather than (or in addition to) the usual 10 reasons debate, but let’s see how that turns out. Let us look forward to August with peace. And who knows, maybe it will bring all required good.

PS: I’ve submitted two of my photos for a “Democracy Photo Challenge.” You may see them here and here. You may kindly leave a comment there too. Who knows what I may win for audience choice.

Out With The Old?

Henry is running around the house with his brother and I yell at them to stop with the noise. They ignore me, taking over the administration of the living room. Their mother is in one corner enjoying the whole noise, or at least indifferent to it. By now, she is used to the ordeal of living with two young boys under ten. I’m on the computer and all I need is my serenity so I shout again. “Hey boys, unlike your grandmother, I don’t mind you running around as fast as you like, but please don’t make any noises.”

“It is Henry.” the brother screams.
“No, It is Oyin.” the other responds, and they resume the noise and the demonic speed all around the house.

I am peeved and I shut down my laptop and relocate to a different part of the house.

You see, this is exactly how people get old: new ones are born and they are so cute, and they take over all the attention in the house. They’re smart, they’re agile, and they are vulnerable. Yes, yes, they’re babies, and nephews, and nieces. And before you know it, the old guy is no longer the cutest boy in the house. Once upon a time, it was Laitan and I running around a far larger compound than this with dust on our brows and heels. Now she’s all grown and taken, Ha, and another aeon has gently replaced us.

This is exactly how people get old. What on earth happened here?

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