Republicans buy Nikes too

Hola peeps. Otra entrada.

Off to Abuja for the weekend. Why? ‘Cos I am still in denial about moving to Warri and recently discovered there’s a direct flight to Abuja from here. I know, I know I’d be over it by now, after all I have spent over a month here but…aaargh let’s just say I can’t be bothered to ‘settle down’ until I return from vacation in February.

Last weekend I was in Lagos and caught Brian McKnight in concert. The line up also included Caron Wheeler (Soul II Soul), Evelyn Champagne King (huge early 80s R&B star) and Sisqo (punk from Dru Hill whose only claim to fame is that he dated Samantha Mumba, my onetime crush and girl I named my second car after). If I’d seen his act not sure I’d not have been tempted to jump on stage to kick his Leprechaun arse. The punk!

Caron Wheeler came on first and tried to get the crowd pumping by singing her new single, but all folk wanted to hear was Back To Life. Can u imagine hearing that song over and over again if u were the originator? No wonder she tried to torture us with her new flop. The mores of has-been music stars I guess. Lagos, I love u. Thanks for having me and hope to see u soon. Sure, whatever girl, just keep singing however do u want me/however do u need me..

Next up was Brian!!!!! Man, I’da screamed like a bitch if I was at the concert alone. Brian!!! The dude, along with Babyface and a smidgen of Boyz II Men, has provided the soundtrack to my relationships. Brian’s Back At One CD was off the ying yang and came out some months after I ended things with my first ever love. In all honesty I think it probably extended my ‘moving on’ period. Ha. It had been a bad breakup and 6,8,12 perfectly encapsulated my feelings. After returning from a date or hanging with some random chick I’d play that song or Babyface’s When Can I See You Again as a litmus test: if I developed melancholy feelings then it’d take all my willpower not to call up ex on the phone. Yup, I am a masochist.

Good thang Brian came on second ‘cos the concert began at 8pm instead of the scheduled 5pm, and as I had to catch the first plane outta Lagos the next morning I wasn’t keen on staying out late. Brian came out with Used To Be My Girl and all the women left their dates and ran forward with their camera phones screaming at the top of their lungs. Women scream when I dance and throw money at me but the way they flocked to him was like kids to The Pied Piper of Hamelin. Man, I am in the wrong business. I wasn’t bothered by all the screaming though I suspect the guy behind me, who had a bemused look when his wife flung her bag at him and ran like crazy to the stage, would be having a serious talk with his wife on the drive home.

Next up was another fav Do I Ever Cross Your Mind. This was turning out to be an excellent night. Brian brought up his teenage sons on stage and they did an acappella version of T-Pain’s Bartender. Yeah, whatever Brian, gimme 6,8,12! 6,8,12! Instead next up was the female pacifier Back At One, and then he said, “In closing I’d like to come down there and sing to u.” In closing?! In friggin’ closing? U what? A measly four songs? That’s what I came to Lagos for? Who cares that Evelyn Champagne King and Sisqo were still gonna perform? I came here to hear 6,8,12 darn it! Couldn’t be bothered to listen to his final song, I was miffed. Now I understand how folk become stalkers. Ha.

Evelyn Champagne King came on and rocked the house, taking us back to the 80s, but was only slightly mollified. She sang about 6 songs and plugged her new CD – first recording in 10 years…oh joy – coming out in 2008 and her husband’s – he’s a jazz, funk, R&B, etc etc guitarist - as well. If she had all that time u mean it’da killed Brian to hum 6,8,12? Woosah Tunde woosah. I am told the organizers plan to bring Toni Braxton next year. Now she’s the only other artiste that’d make me travel across the country for a concert, but b4 I commit myself again I’m gonna need to know how many songs she plans to serenade me with.

Lagos news: The rest of the weekend wasn’t bad as I attended a mate’s 30th birthday party Friday night after making a pit stop at Kinzo’s new crib on the Island - was very impressed, the view took my breath away. While dancing the night away at the party it occurred to me that I mighta reached my dancing peak. Time was when I’d dance all night throwing out free-style moves I came up with five minutes prior, time was when I’d dance to any song that played as long as it wasn’t ragga or dancehall, time was when I’d recall moves from the 80s and 90s and blend them into a recent song, time was…well, Tempus fugit. Now I find myself repeating the same ol’ steps and if I ain’t careful I may end up doing the same ol’ two-step, u know the one, that my dad and his ilk do at parties. Yup, no matter what the band plays it’s two-step all the way.

Pastor (*during pre-marriage counselling*): So Tunde, are u sure u want to get married?
Tunde: Erm, erm, to be honest pastor, I seem to have peaked, u know, in the dance department. If I don’t get married asap I fear I’ll end up doing the two-step at my wedding, and u know that ain’t cool.

Family news: On Saturday I went with Seyi and her son to see Kemi’s twins, but again one of the babies was asleep. Kemi and Seyi both agreed that the one that was awake looks a lot like me. I don’t see it, but if they say so there must be a modicum of truth in their utterances. I don’t blame them though, who’d not want their kid to look like me and have my traits? Okay maybe they mightn’t be so keen on my premature baldness, but Michael Jordan had that as well and look how he turned out.

Cannot wait for Ayo to move back in December ‘cos what I experienced this weekend was somewhat frightful. I arrived at the crib to find it empty. All the parents had travelled and only the helps and security guard were available. A sign of things to come?

Oh yeah, chatted with the dude online and discovered he’s got a new girlfriend – I told ya he accumulates them – who’s moving back to Nigeria in January ‘cos of him. Woah, must be serious. Told Mama about the latest development when I saw her on Sunday and she was shocked. Finally! I knew there’d come a time when I won’t be the last sibling to find out goings-on in the family. She was conflicted as she had gotten close to his last girlfriend ‘cos of him. Aww, poor innocent, naive Mama. It’s at times like these I remember she’s the last sibling. Her older ones, even parents, woulda shrugged at the news. Moi? I typically think, “So another male sibling’s split with his girlfriend? Another one bites the dust. I’m gonna miss her but it’s quite convenient that I have learnt from experience not to get too attached. Let’s see how long this lasts….I hope this one bakes.”

While talking to Loye also discovered he and his hot girlfriend are in splitsville. Seems the London-Lagos distance was a bit too much to handle. The punk! For a chick that hot he oughta have tried harder. Come to think of it Loye said the same thang to me when ex and I ended things months back. Ha huh ha huh ha huh ha huh

PH news: Visited PH for a few days last week ‘cos, gulp, I actually missed the place. Yup, that’s what Warri does to me. Was ace being back in crib after a month away. Everythang was the way I left it…..and that includes the decrepit state of street my house lies on. Who says change ain’t a good thang?

The security curfew’s been extended to midnight now and heard the first weekend after the declaration EVERYONE and their mama was out on the town. Who says change ain’t a good thang?

Power was still abysmal but I didn’t mind, not when I had spent the previous nights at that crap hotel I described two blogs back. I forgot to mention that I did learn a valuable lesson from staying at that place. I learnt to embrace a new sense of adventure after watching a piece on the NTA about an English twenty-something who decided to visit Lagos on a whim. He kept a video diary and chose Lagos ‘cos he discovered though it’s one of the largest cities in the world (est. 15m people) most peeps hadn’t heard of it.

Was particularly pained by the comment of his female mate. She’d been to West Africa and loved every place she went to, but avoided Lagos ‘cos she’d been told she’d be lucky to get outta the airport alive, it was dangerous and corruption was rampant. Didn’t finish the show ‘cos the NTA in all their wisdom abruptly switched programming to the state lottery show and didn’t inform the viewers when the video diary would be continued. From the parts shown dude seemed to have a swell time: he visited a renowned artist’s studio, a workshop teaching youth the arts, and an English lady, coaching football to street kids, who’s been in Lagos for donkey years and though she admitted there are parts of Lagos she’d never go to she also said the same about London, New York, Manchester.

It struck me that if this dude could make an impromptu visit to then I’d learn to explore sections in Warri (after I return from vacation) and see what this town has to offer. The video diary also whetted my appetite for forthcoming trip to Kenya, Uganda and Ghana. It’s about time I visited other swathes of The Motherland, as my African American friends would say. When I conceived the trip at the start of the year the plan was to visit Tanzania, Kenya and Uganda. When folk asked reason for choosing East Africa as a holiday spot my auto-response was, “I have never been to another African country so decided this’d be the time. Besides I have mates in those places so it wouldn’t be like stepping into the unknown.”. That was just trite PC-speak. The real reason? I had told all and sundry I’ll decide on a girlfriend by December 2007, so I reckoned if I am away from the country then they can’t sweat me about it. Besides this’d be my ‘Coming To America’ moment. U don’t geddit? Okay, what do women in East Africa have in common apart from protruding foreheads and massive hips? Dark gums!!! I need to see me loadsa dark gums, maybe that’d aid in my choice of a bride. Serious. I almost added Rwanda to the list of places to visit after Ugandan mate who’d recently returned from the place said, "Dude, u’d DEFINITELY visit there. The women are so stunning Iman wouldn’t get a look in if she moved there".

After viewing said video journal my intentions are now more altruistic. Shall visit, make lifelong friends, take photos, and hopefully, spread the good news that Africa’s more than just dark-hued caudillos with palms forever outstretched expecting aid from the West. And if I happen to catch a glimpse of dark gums in the process, well, what’s a bro to do?

Tot ziens and God bless.

PS
I forgot to mention while at that dump of a hotel I also caught the US Democrats Presidential debate held in Las Vegas. It started at 2am Nigerian time but I set an alarm in order not to miss it – hey, what else did I have to look forward to at the dump?

What did I learn? The most habile of politicians, nah ALL politicians, cannot give a Yes or No answer even when asked to do so.

Wolf Blitzer: Is ur name Tunde, yes or no?
Tunde the politician: Wolf, the focus should not be on my name, but on why we let names divide us. When I am President it won’t matter if ur name is Joseph, Jose, Josef, or Idris we would all be one. In fact I’ll scrap names and we’d have numbers instead. Patrick McGoohan eat ur heart out.

Let’s see if I get away with this

Hola peeps. ¿Sé lo que estoy haciendo?

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

It was a cold winter’s night and the rain came down in torrents and the little boy said, “Tell us a story grandfather”, and this is what he said:

Tot ziens and God bless.

WWJD? He’d be too smart to get involved in public office

Hola peeps. ¿Cuál está todo alrededor?

Solar walked in to see Boiler crouched over someone’s knee. He jumped in delight; finally he’d see Boiler in action. Of course he had heard the stories, all his mates had. Now he’d get to see Boiler - for that was the name he had been christened by his mates for his adroitness and willingness to pop boils that develop on skins – do what the good Lord surely placed him on this planet for.

Like a skilled surgeon Boiler instructed his ‘patient’ to lie down and bite on a pillow while he laid out his now familiar ‘instruments’: toilet roll and a jar of Vaseline. Glancing around for a ‘nurse’ Boiler beckoned to Solar and instructed him to pad the toilet roll and place it around offending boil. He then went to work applying pressure around the circumference of the boil with his thumbs, massaging a different point around boil each time. This went on for two minutes before Solar got bored. (At this juncture it must be pointed out that this incident took place in the mid-1980s so Solar wasn’t clinically characterized as ADD, but come to think of it now, dude had the attention of a moth…on crack.) To alleviate his ennui Solar decided to lighten the mood of the ‘operation’ by sticking his tongue out over the patient’s knee.

“Na na na na na”
“Solar, stop it!”, shouted Boiler. “It’s gonna pop soon.”
But Solar continued unperturbed. “Na na na na”
“Solar, I warn u, take ur mouth away from there”
“Na na na na na”

Another minute passed and Solar’s jaws were beginning to hurt, or maybe it was the ADD again. Just as he began to shut his mouth a popping sound was heard and the room fell eerily silent. It was obvious that Boiler had conducted another successful surgery, but where were the cheers from Solar? Solar seemed to have lost his voice even though his mouth was still open.

“Solar, are you okay?” asked Boiler. But Solar, still agape, didn’t utter a word. Instead he dashed out of the room like the wind and spat on the ground profusely. Turns out the contents of the boil inexplicably made a bee-line for the inside of Solar’s mouth. The entire room burst into laughter and Solar would be reminded of that fateful day the rest of his years at FGC Warri.

Tunde laughed out loud at the recollection of that incident, wiping tears from his eyes. How he wished that Boiler was somewhere within earshot, as he glanced at the huge protrusion on the small of his back; the result of a bed-bug bite. It was two in the morning and yet he could not sleep due to the excruciating pain. Recalling his mantra, WWBD (What Would Boiler Do?), he clenched his jaws and pressed out the puss from the inflammation, dabbing the opening with tissue and rubbing baby oil intermittently as Boiler would.

That would be the last time he would sleep shirtless on a hotel bed. No, this trash heap didn’t deserve to be called a hotel. He could not but vilipend the firm in Warri for booking such a dump for his accommodation. The PH branch was cheap, but at least they booked one-star hotels. This here trash heap didn’t have a twinkle let alone a star-rating. His mind wandered, as was his wont:

Hmmm, ‘The hotel has no twinkle let alone a star-rating’. That’s good, real funny. I have stayed at so many crap hotels since I moved from Lagos I should probably start my own Zagat survey on rubbish hotels. I can just imagine the title: ‘Hotels To Avoid While Travelling Through The Niger Delta’. Yeah, that could work…

He could be pernickety at times but in this case he was on point, the hotel was truly dreadful. The day he checked into his room he discovered it was untidy, almost as if no one had resided there in ages. He walked down to the reception to complain and while there he asked for a remote control for the TV in the room, but the receptionist looked bemused. Not only did none of the TVs in the place have remote controls – they probably bought them second-hand – there were only four channels on show: CNN, NTA and two (yes 2!) Nollywood channels. Arrrggghhhh.

Tunde walked up to his room and attempted to MacGyver a remote control, okay not so ‘remote’, out of drink straws and broom sticks but packed it in after twenty unsuccessful minutes. He stormed out of the room and went for a stroll around the hotel premises. While sauntering along he discovered that the messed up hotel had three satellite dishes. Yes, three satellite dishes and only four channels broadcast! If he wasn’t so sure he’d have sworn he was on a hidden camera show. He couldn’t believe he had four more nights to stay in this decrepit dump.

The only thing he had to look forward every morning was the trip to the clients’ homes to shake his good stuff. As the days went by s-l-o-w-l-y he discovered new stuff he hated about the place, culminating in the bed-bug bite. The rooms weren’t cleaned properly; the bed sheets weren’t changed daily; the generator was only turned on after 7pm; the food was, oh that deserves its own paragraph.

After his first night there Tunde quickly discovered the menu was either a prop or someone’s sick joke. A variety of meals were listed on it, but apparently that was for show because the chef only prepared meals consisting of rice or garri. And even worse, the hotel had a food roster so if one has a craving for jollof rice on a day the chef’s scheduled fried rice one has to suck it up or forego a meal. On a certain evening Tunde got so frustrated he went across the road to purchase some barbequed beef, suya. That tasted worse than burnt rubber and gave him the runs the morning after.

Surely there had to be some positives from his stay at Nigeria’s Fawlty Towers, right? Wrong. On the eve of his departure Tunde decided against room service and went to the restaurant not sure if he was in the mood for rice and stew or stew and rice. As he walked in he saw a man holding court so he pulled a chair.

Raconteur: “People, u won’t believe it, but after I quarrelled with the chef last week because of his monotonous menu I retired for the night and went straight to sleep. I was awoken about 4am from this weird sound outside my window. As I endeavoured to walk across the room to the window my leg gave way. I swear I couldn’t move it and paradoxically it was the same chef who helped massage it the next morning. It took four days before my leg was the same.”
Audience member 1: “Ha. Ha. U saying it was because you argued with the chef that ur leg gave way?”
Raconteur (*sotto voce*): “I don’t know what else to tell you. All I know is if you don’t like the food don’t tell the chef to his face. If you do do something that crazy make sure u swap rooms with someone. Ha.”
Audience member 2: “I sure say na your enemies cause your leg to hurt. Maybe you dey owe person money and you no wan pay.”
Raconteur (*obviously miffed*): “Ehen, what if I owe money? Don’t you know all rich men owe money even if they have the funds. Look my friend, if you want to live long it’s best to have lots of creditors. That way you can be sure they’ll pray for you daily so you’ll live long to repay their debts…”

Tunde had had enough; the ramblings had him with no appetite for food. As he stormed out of the restaurant one of the waitresses asked him if he’d like food delivered to his room. “Keep ur rubbish food”, he shouted. “Thank goodness I check out of this pigsty tomorrow morning.” Back in his room he lay down on the uncomfortable bed and slept off. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning he was awakened by a weird sound outside his window. It sounded like a combination of crickets and helicopter blades in full rotation. Recalling the tale he had heard back at the restaurant he didn’t dare move from the bed. The sound grew louder still, but Tunde dove under the filthy covers. Then someone tried to work the door handle…….(to be continued if he survives the night)

Tot ziens and God bless.

Who do u think u are, Stirling Moss Lewis Hamilton?

Hola peeps. No es tan malo después de todos.

The day began like any other. The man was excited at the news he just received. In less than two years he had gone from new kid on the block to the ichiban of the local scene. It didn’t matter that his profession was not as prestigious as medicine or architecture; he brings utmost professionalism to his job and most importantly, makes his clients extremely happy and that’s all that matters to him.

But he knew he was lying to himself. He still valued the opinion of Chief. Yes, the one from whose loins he was birthed, and one who had an invaluable influence on his life. Chief on one hand appeared to be the most liberal of parents, but on the other wanted his ‘suggestions’, or so he called them, followed. “U know I never chose a career path for u or any of my other children, but if u had followed my advice and returned to Nigeria when I suggested u’d have been better established by now and most likely married.” Yes, the marriage word always seemed to magically crop up in recent conversations with Chief. Come to think of it variations of the ‘M’ word were always present in conversations from as far as he could remember. “So how was ur first day at kindergarten? I hear u already have a small wife there”…….. “So u wanna have a party to celebrate ur 10th birthday? Any special someone u want us to invite?”….. “Who’s that girl that I just met? So what does it matter if she’s ur ex-girlfriend’s best friend? There’s a reason why u used that word ‘ex’.”

He couldn’t help from cracking up at his recollection of bonding sessions with Chief. He knew with the news he was about to convey his father would go through his usual 3-step response to such updates. Step 1: Joy. Step 2: The speech that invariably ends in the ‘M’ word. Step 3: Pride and the bullhorn to announce the latest accomplishment to family, friends, neighbours, total strangers, Martians, anybody.

The guy sat on the bed and stared around the hotel room that was to become his home for the next year. Switched on the TV, but there was nothing of interest blaring out at him, just the same disappointing drivel: the latest effort by a military dictator - he was glad it wasn’t an African despot for a change - on his last legs to add fuel to the dying embers of his rule, the two-timing former ruler supported by the West with overt ambitions to succeed the General, mounting death toll in Iraq, and a country trying to cope after a recent scandal involving the highest ranking female politician brought down by avariciousness. Don’t these politicians ever learn, he wondered aloud to no one in particular. As is his wont when he watches TV his mind wandered along a totally unrelated tangent. Phew, this country can finally move on from this scandal that has plagued us for what seemed like eons. A friend recently emailed a YouTube video of the blows that were exchanged in the lower house of assembly. Good thing the issue got resolved amiably else I can imagine some of our elected members spoiling for another fight. Hey, wouldn’t it be crazy hilarious if underneath their expensive clothes our representatives wore costumes, a la Clark Kent, but instead of superhero gear they donned wrestling outfits?

We could also get Michael Buffer to announce the fight: In the red corner wearing the mask (to hide her zits) and fighting for no just cause is the Representative from erm, erm, no one’s quite sure where she’s from but we know the erstwhile President has her back. In the blue corner is…..look no one cares, let’s get ready to rummmmbbblllleeeee!!!!!
Lol…now that would get folk interested in politics for sure. Oops, I gotta make a call, don’t I?

He turned off the TV to stop his mind from wandering some more and dialled Chief’s number.

Chief: Hello?
Stripper (aka Chief’s son): E ku ale, sir.
Chief: E ku ale o. Ta ni yen?
Stripper (*Thinking to himself: “I don’t get why he always acts as if he doesn’t know who I am whenever I attempt a conversation in Yoruba. Does he not have my number stored on his phone? Or maybe dude doesn’t expect to hear me speak Yoruba. Or maybe my voice sounds different when I am not speaking English…”*): It’s me, sir.
Chief: Yeah, how are u? How’s Warri?
Stripper: Warri’s fine, sir. Yeah, u know that major exam I sat for last month? The one where u’ve been asking for the results every week since? The one that’ll ensure I can sit another exam that’ll allow me practise as a stripper anywhere in the world? Well, I passed.
Chief: Thanks God. Congratulations. So what did u score, and where does that rank among others that sat for the exam?
Stripper (*Thinking to himself: “Yup, that’s my father, forever competitive.”*): With this exam we weren’t given grades. One either passed or didn’t. If it’s any indication the pass mark is 70%.
Chief: That’s good.
Stripper: Thanks. Good night, sir.
Chief: Good night. I am so proud of u, MY son.

He ended the call and stared at his image in the mirror, lost in his thoughts, not sure of what to do about the emotions he was experiencing. There’s never been a question about his legitimacy, but this was probably the first time he had heard Chief use ‘My son’ in a one-on-one conversation. An abbreviation of his first name, ‘Son’, even ‘Babbie Joe’, Chief’s favourite childhood nickname for him, he had heard uttered his entire life, but never ‘My son’. If he wasn’t so macho with rock hard abs he might have shed a tear, because this moment was a landmark bonding moment between father and son. Who would have thunk – yes, he loved the word ‘thunk’ and the way it rolls off the tongue – that the prefix My could arouse such feelings.

He said to himself, This makes no sense; two little words shouldn’t generate so much emotion, should they? Could it be because I half-expected him to follow his congratulatory messages with a speech on marriage? He didn’t, and maybe that’s why those two words, My son, resonate so deeply. Maybe for once, in a real long time, he is indeed truly proud of me and doesn’t see my life as incomplete because I appear not to have seriously thought of marriage. Aaaahhh, this is a great feeling. I don’t think any two African men have shared such a bond since Mufasa's ghost and Simba in The Lion King. Uh oh, my mind’s wandering again….

He called his mother to deliver the news of his exam results, but she already knew. It appears Chief had already engaged full Step 3 mode. He laughed at how some things appear different, yet somehow remain the same. Nothing else he could do, but tell her, “Tot ziens and God bless.” She wanted to ask him what Tot ziens meant, but he had ended the call by then. “My son sure acts strange”, she wondered aloud to no one in particular.