I got my drink and my two-step

Hola peeps. ¿Yo le faltó, usted me faltó?

It’s 8.36pm on Monday night and raining like crazy in Warri. Y’all remember how I have been commending the Delta State governor for the good roads in the Warri environ? Well, slap me twice and call me Faye ‘cos the rains have exposed the sham that’s regarded as road construction. What’s wrong with us Nigerians? Would it kill us to do a good job for once in our lives? Woosah…woosah…I swore - yes, I did. I even executed the whole index finger touching ground, then touching tip of tongue, then pointing index finger to the sky thang that only Nigerians would understand - that I would no longer complain about the goings-on, or in Yar’Adua’s case the non-goings-on (u see I am doing it again!), in the Nigerian political scene. Nah, since this is probably last time I am gonna blog about his incompetence I’d better let stuff off my chest.

U know what really gets me, it’s this rudderless ship he calls a government. Today he’s for something, tomorrow he does a volte face; come on, make up ur mind already! For instance Yar’Adua chose rightly not to recognize Mugabe’s electoral triumph yet few days later he’s supporting Sudan’s al-Bashir against the International Criminal Court (ICC) indictment ‘cos Sudan is a “sovereign nation”. Oh I see, and Zimbabwe is what exactly? This dude is…..arrrggghhh.

Never thought it’d happen, but Yar’Adua is making me understand why the Americans voted for Bush twice, at least Dubya stood stubbornly to his deleterious cause of action. In a sure sign that we badly need a change – apologies to Obama – the topic on everyone’s lips is the state of Yar’Adua’s health. The minister of misinformation professes that Yar’Adua is hale and hearty, but no one knows where he is; almost as if he’s the Scarlet Pimpernel, only he ain’t rescuing anyone from anything. Who’s ruling the country now? Surely, not the vice president who hasn’t come out to make a statement on nada let alone the propaganda war between MEND and the Nigerian military (on whether or not military personnel were killed in MEND’s latest assault.) Man, those MEND punks sure are jokers. Now they demanding a construction company they had earlier asked to quit Nigeria to return to the Niger Delta in order to develop the place. No, keep blowing up pipelines leading to more environmental degradation and see if that helps in development. These guys and Yar’Adua deserve each other; they both clueless as to what they want.

Yes, I know this Tunde is angrier than normal, but just can’t help it. I am crazy tired of same ol’ complaining and shrugging of the shoulders. To be honest ever since my return from Liberia – more on that later – I have noticed drastic changes in my attitude. Peep this:

Scenario 1: Tunde comes across peeps going off on Nigerian corrupt public office holders.
Pre-Liberia Tunde would joyfully add his two cents (or two naira forty kobo if the exchange hovers around $1 to N120…man, I am such a geek!)
Post-Liberia Tunde listens to their rantings, smiles, walks round the corner then bangs his head against a wall ‘til his vision gets hazy and he sees dead people corrupt leaders.

Scenario 2: Some chick Tunde ain’t particularly fond of keeps flashing/beeping him.
Pre-Liberia Tunde would call back….eventually.
Post-Liberia Tunde waits ‘til the wee hours of the morning when he knows she’ll be asleep then flashes/beeps her back, laughing maniacally as he does so.

(Some background on scenario 2: Sometime last year while having lunch at some eatery in PH I overheard this chick screaming down the phone ‘cos the party on the other end was late to pick her up. As it was getting late and PH traffic being what it is I stepped over to her table and asked if I’d offer her a ride. She smiled, thanked me for the gesture and assured me her ride would show up. As I walked away she called after me and asked for my number, so I gave her. Worst mistake like ever!

She called that night, “Hi, I am the girl from the restaurant. My name’s X and this is my number.” Called her a few times to say hello and then the flashing began. Sometimes I’d ignore it, other times I’d call her back, then like a, ahem, flash of lightning - geddit? geddit? Aw forget yous - she stopped calling. Phew.

So there I am in PH few months back when I receive a call from a strange number. It was Miss X. I tell her I am PH for a few days and she promises to stop by my hotel. She shows up with a friend and b4 I’d ask about her well being she blurts out, “We hungry o.” Hmmm. As the hotel kitchen’s closed I ask if they’d settle for something from the suya spot nearby. They ask for a sum and I hand it over. Imagine my surprise when they show up with stuff costing less than a fifth of what I forked over. “Hey”, I tell myself, “if they wanna keep the change that’s up to them.” They then take over my TV watching Africa Magic – arrrggghhhhh - until past 11pm, all the while ignoring my subtle hints about needing some zzzzz. Time to go so I walk Thelma and Louise down the stairs and give them bucks to charter a cab. Being the quintessential gentleman I offer to hail a cab but Miss X (aka Thelma) refuses and instead they hop on an okada – who woulda thunk they operate that late? I was flabberwhelmed. There’s taking the piss and there’s grabbing the entire WC; they did the latter and then some. If that ain’t enough Miss X insists on flashing continuously. Would it kill these peeps to send a text message now and then or……woosah…woosah….)

So what happened in Liberia that’s brought about this change? Dunno. Maybe something happened during week spent in Lagos prior to trip to Liberia or week b4 that spent on a course in PH. Either way I have decided I ain’t gonna complain anymore, but spend my energy seeking out feasible solutions instead. Of course I’ll still publish stories of government malfeasance in the Articles of Interest section of the blog, but gonna try to make a change by exploring the option of running for public office. I’m serious.

Spent three nights in Monrovia and it was just about enough. Not that I didn’t enjoy myself it was just that, how do I say this, Monrovia reminded me too much of Lagos. I mean why would I take off from Lagos only to arrive in Lagos; makes no sense, right? Before I go on here’s a quick recap of Tunde’s week in Lagos.

Saturday August 16th: Flight from PH landed at 4pm and rushed home to get changed as had a wedding to attend. Showered, changed and looked a million bucks but couldn’t get in touch with mate who had the invite – it was the wedding of a military top brass so no invite no entry – so skipped the wedding and caught Get Smart (which was quite funny) with Mama and her hot doctor friend I have a crush on.

After dropping off hot doctor at her crib got stopped by the police – they were hating on my blazer of many colours (that Dolly Parton’s mama made for me) - who asked for the car papers and discovered they had expired. Asked Mama why her car papers were allowed to lapse and she offered the quaint, “No one ever stops me, especially after they sight my white coat hanging at the back and realize I am a doctor”. Alrighty then. After hemming and hawing – and suggesting I drive to an ATM when I told them I didn’t have much cash on me - the coppers settled for two grand. Not bad for a night’s work, eh?

(In case y’all are wondering why I am giving a detailed account of my involvement in graft it’s to prove to y’all that even brothers with killer six-packs err sometimes…..and also to get my dirty laundry out in the open b4 someone does a Sarah Palin on me. Besides, I believe in full disclosure and, wait, that sounds like a winning catch phrase. FULL DISCLOSURE. If Yar’Adua and his cronies can use ‘Rule of Law’ as reason for their tepid performance in office, when I become president I’d use ‘Full Disclosure’ as a get-out-of-jail card for everything from authorizing phone taps to explaining my penchant for holding press conferences wearing only boxers shorts.)

Sunday August 17th: Woke up early for church. Visited mates that live on the Island then attended a ‘surprise’ – only surprise was being the first person to arrive at the venue a full thirty minutes b4 anyone else - shindig of a mate going to the UK for her Masters.

Monday August 18th: Routine dentist appointment turned into wisdom tooth being pulled out. If that wasn’t bad enough while walking down the street with chest protruding – Memo to readers: It always helps to purchase shirts two sizes too small to create the impression one is more buff than normal - and strutting my stuff like the Bee Gees in the Staying Alive video the sole of my left shoe split open just as some foxy older lady – Paging Bimbo Oloyede from Channels News! Paging Bimbo Oloyede from Channels News! - was checking me out. I hopped to the car and drove around the Island ‘til I found a cobbler.

How do I explain unfortunate turn of events that day? Coincidence? Karma? Fate? Nah, M-I-G-U-E-L . Yes, the punk’s moved back to Nigeria ‘cos he couldn’t find anyone sad enough in the US to marry him. He was the first person I saw that day and reckon he’s imported his ATL ‘jazz’ with him. Get thee behind me Miguel!

Later, had lunch with mate’s wife’s sister I have a crush on and caught The Dark Knight.

Tuesday August 19th: Saw The Mummy 3 with mate’s wife I have a crush on and her friend who I don’t have a crush on. Then caught The Dark Knight again - ‘cos missed first ten minutes yesterday while waiting on mates…or maybe that’s Miguel’s influence as well – with ‘my small wife’ (aka Seyi’s childhood friend I have a crush on), but missed the first 5 minutes this time. Arrggghhhh. Miguel, Miguel, Miguel. How many times I call ur name? No talk say I no warn u o.

Wednesday August 20th: Spent entire day at home.
That’s right Neo if u reading this, I didn’t move an inch from the crib. U always said I couldn’t stay still, almost as if I had ants in my pants. Well, I am so still I am statuesque baby. So, erm, u gonna call me? Sob….sob…please call…sob

Thursday August 21st: Stopped by Unilag to see some dude working on a website for my presidential campaign. Also bumped into mate’s sister I still have a crush on, though she’s married and 7 months preggers. It wasn’t ‘til I left Unilag for the Island I remembered I shoulda called Miss Y.

(Some background: A few months ago while working out in my penthouse – u’da seen my abs - I received a call from someone called Miss Y. Turns out she is Mass Communications student at Unilag – or so she says - and was calling to find out who I was ‘cos she saw my business card while ruffling through some old documents and couldn’t remember for the life of her where we met.

Couldn’t recollect either. Seeing as the male exotic dancing industry is so close-knit it’d be possible she got my card from a client. Anyways we have kept in contact since – hey, she doesn’t flash/beep so that’s a brownie point - and had promised to call her when in Lagos. Ooops.)

Got to the Island and hung out with one set of mates over lunch and another over dinner. Then it was off home to pack for trip to Liberia.

Liberia news: Something was quite ominous about the trip. First, boarding pass disappeared after I placed it with other travelling documents in tray b4 passing it through those x-ray machine thingies at MMIA. I kinda get that socks vanish into thin air in washing machines, but boarding passes getting swallowed by airport x-ray machines? Come on! Haba Miguel, wetin I do you?

Later, just as plane is about to lift off the ground the pilot slams on his brakes hard as if he’s driving a molue. The lady behind me is screaming Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, as the pilot explains he was asked to delay take off ‘cos a plane was approaching for a landing. Miguel, ur efforts will not work. Worst part of this was looking out the window and seeing carcases of some burnt planes – noticed a few Nigeria Airways planes – on the grass straddling the runway. What gives?

Stop over at Accra to let passengers off, and had some time to kill so struck up conversations with the air stewardesses and discovered ALL the Aero Contractor stewardesses on this international flights have extra white teeth. Maybe it’s a one-off but couldn’t help thinking management purposely recruited them for their toothpaste commercial smiles, while sending those with tree bark-hewed teeth to man local flights. Y’all may think I am paranoid but the Nigerians among u suspect I am telling the truth. For sure y’all musta noticed the well-endowed chicks at GLO Customer Care offices – yes, that’s Nigeria’s answer to Hooters – or the predominance of light skinned chicks at Zenith Bank branches. Yes, Miss W you are extremely qualified for the position and we would love to have you work for us, BUT there’s just one tiny problem. Erm, on ur resume u say u crave challenges, so here’s a challenge for u: How would u feel changing ur skin pigment? Not to worry we are very professional here, and u can be rest assured u won’t end up having purple patches on ur skin….. Ha hee ha hee ha hee.

So where was I? Okay, so I am chilling on the plane at Accra one minute then the carnival starts. Either Liberians, like Nigerians, don’t believe in carrying light hand luggage or they, like Nigerians, travel with loadsa luggage. This and other experiences in Liberia convinced me that Nigerians and Liberians are distant relatives. The people look the same, they act the same, only way u can tell us apart is the lovely sing-song way Liberians talk. It’s sheer joy to listen to them talk.

Flight lands in Monrovia about 11am on Friday August 22nd and the immigration officers are as glum-faced as their Nigerian counterparts. While waiting on my Liberian mate Salome to pick me up I wander around and if it wasn’t for the accents and the small airport u’d swear – yes, the whole finger-floor-tongue-sky thang - u were in Lagos. Guys kept trying to offer me a taxi even after I told them repeatedly I wasn’t interested.

While people watching I observe this Nigerian dude, Ibo to be precise, get into an argument with the airport security. Peeps, believe me, u haven’t lived ‘til u hear an Ibo guy speak with a Liberian accent. Oh man, almost keeled over laughing. Man, u gotta love us Nigerians, we are everywhere. That wasn’t my only encounter with fellow Nigerians in Liberia. The next day while chilling at a bar with Salome, her friend Winnie and their boyfriends this Ibo guy walks up to the table and introduces himself as a sales representative for a company that manufactures herbal medicine that aids one’s sexual prowess. While we having a good laugh about this Salome’s boyfriend asks him for the cost of a sachet, and dude replies he only sells them in bulk. U what?

As only spent a short time in the country I didn’t get up to much, though almost got arrested on first day in the country for trying to take a pic of the police headquarters. Hey, there were no signs stipulating that pics weren’t allowed. Was taken to see the police commissioner – on his desk was a framed photo he took with Bill Clinton – to explain myself. While there some huge dude wearing Senegalese outfit – later discovered he’s a big shot in the army – barged in enquiring about the dude caught taking pics of the police headquarters. Lol…less than 3 hours in the country and I am already a celebrity. I explained myself and told him I hadn’t taken any pics of the place. After he scans pics in camera he directs me to some dude in public relations. By this time I don’t really want the pic anymore, but chose to see the public relations guy ‘cos don’t wanna offend army dude or Mr. Clinton’s close pal. In a move that proved Liberian and Nigerian civil servants are alike the guy tells me as it’s nigh on closing time and I’d have to return on Monday. “But I depart for Nigeria on Monday”, I protested. “Besides isn’t Monday a public holiday where y’all celebrate Flag Day?” Typical.

So what information did I garner from my trip?

1. We all have our li’l idiosyncracies: Liberians place tissue on a bottle top before opening, so that one can use tissue to wipe the brim of the bottle before placing on lips; Ugandans tend to count in orders of 7, e.g. “Ur food will be ready in 7 minutes, sir”, while Nigerians – and everyone else - count in multiples of 5.

2. Liberians don’t get why Nigerian funerals are more like huge parties.

3. I wasn’t surprised with Liberians’ love for Nigerian movies and music – got over that after trip to East Africa – but everywhere I went Akon’s Hold My Hand or Wyclef Jean’s Anything Can Happen was being played. The latter’s quite old (1998 I think) so don’t get why it’s still on heavy rotation here. Maybe there’s something about the lyrics of both songs that appeals to Liberians.

4. I don’t get why Salome – or anyone in particular – would love No Air by Chris Brown and Jordin Sparks so much. She played it so often one day I actively listened to the lyrics and all I can say is it’s the equivalent of a Nollywood movie. Just when u think the song’s about to end the producer makes it longer by insisting they repeat the word, ‘air’. Do u know how many times the word ‘air’ comes up in that song? 50. That’s right, five-zero! I counted…..yup, I need to get a life.

All in all it was a good trip and on the eve of my departure I bumped into my friend the army big shot at The Embassy night club. Dude was decked in full camouflage – hey, that’s one way to avoid paying the gate fee.

Tot ziens and…hold on, just wanna flash that girl again, hee hee haw haw….God bless.