It’s hard to get by when your arse is the size of a small country

Hola peeps.

Hate to start a blog entry this way but I have been pooping like crazy since morning, and had to take the day off work. If you’ve been reading this blog for a while you must realize I am what is known is this here parts as a poop connoisseur. I truly believe the ability to poop without interruptions is one of God’s greatest gifts. I get so comfy I sometimes nap when pooping, though that hasn’t happened in ages for some reason. Since my return from Zanzibar two weeks ago my hitherto metronomic poop sequence has been outta sync. Also had to skip work then due to chronic stomach pains and frequent trips to the loo. Could not help wishing then I could MacGyver a funnel and hose setup from arse to toilet so I wouldn’t bother leaving bed. Bum was so tender – ran outta Snapchat bog roll and was forced to pop to store in between doodles to re-up on bog roll; sadly, they only had the sandpaper-tinged ones in stock – I just dabbed on it after each splatter and then waited 5 or so minutes before going again. As I hate to swallow tablets, only option was to down a concoction of activated charcoal with water in attempt to arrest leaking bum. Didn’t work.

Time not spent craving a bidet was utilized searching online for noise-cancelling headphones to eliminate the wail erupting from (obviously rusted) pipes after each toilet flush. After a rapid splatter sequence where loo was flushed 5 times in 7 minutes, I genuinely feared my apartment would fall apart. Noise emanating from pipes sounded like how one would expect The Hulk to scream in frustration if he was constipated.

Never did find right headphones, but was grateful for the little distraction it afforded. Unfortunately, time online also resulted in buyer’s remorse after discovering dire reviews on earphones I had bought on plane ride from Zanzibar. Speaking of reviews, do they have to apply to everything? Even churches and places of worship have reviews! I mean, c’mon. Always forget service times for church in London and since I’ll be travelling there soon I Googled them just to be sure. Lo and behold, there were reviews of the church and one funny comment was, “What really happened was a lot of time wasted form filling n talking." Hee hee.

Anyway, lemme tell you about Zanzibar trip. Boy, it was ineffably amazing, and…. before I go further I just noticed something about myself: I am a messy eater! Well, I use the word “messy” ‘cos not sure how else to describe it. I first noticed it earlier this year while eating crackers in bed and watching a movie. The next morning, I found crumbs on the head rest and other unlikely places. Since then, I have paid serious attention to this phenomenon and realized, when leaving office at the end of the work day, there are ALWAYS biscuit fragments - or whatever I had munched on earlier - on office chair, right around where bum woulda been. In Zanzibar, after a particularly delicious meal, I noticed a grain of rice on chair as I got up to have seconds. Wait, but I was seated in chair while eating?! How is this possible? Does food go into stomach, come outta arse unprocessed and then diffuses through underwear and then through pants onto the chair? I am genuinely gobsmacked. Okay back to Zanzibar trip.

Always been wary – nah, wary is not the right word – of going on vacation alone, for no justifiable reason, mind you. So, after completing a hectic week of meetings and presentations and more meetings at the end of November, I decided I needed a break from Juba. Good thing David was moving house else Kampala woulda been de rigueur (read lazy) travel destination. Decided to go somewhere I had never been and settled on Zanzibar ‘cos I had always been a cunctator when it came to visiting Tanzania, even though I had intended to for a few years now. I was chuffed at my decision to be spontaneous for once; spent four nights at Diamonds La Gemma but wish it coulda been longer. Definitely going back.

Relaxed like I hadn’t in yonks and had two (non-pervy) massages to boot. Also, completed two books in 4 days when it had taken me 4 months trying to finish one. Surprised myself by going all touristy and signing up for a tour of Stone Town and the Prison Island. The latter is an enclave for tortoises and I got to learn differences between tortoises and turtles. Tortoises have an oval shell and claws while turtles have flat shells and no finger-like separation on appendages. Tortoises dwell mostly on land and turtles principally live in the sea. I hope you now have an idea why the famous cartoon from my teenage years - that is surprisingly still relevant after several iterations - was erroneously titled. If I am being unpedantic I must admit Teenage Mutant Ninja TOR-toi-ses just doesn’t have the same ring to it as TMN TUR-tles.

While feeding a tortoise my tourist guide cautioned against holding fingers too close as tortoise could bite them, compelling one to brace oneself until tortoise chooses to open its mouth; attempts to forcefully pull free one’s fingers would most likely result in greater injuries. I vaguely remember an old wives’ tale as a kid in Nigeria on the folly of sticking one’s finger into a tortoise’s other orifice. The moral of the tortoise colonoscopy story, or why any kid would even seem interested in doing that in the first place, is fuzzy but I think it had something to do with lightning striking twice before the tortoise could release one’s trapped finger from its butt hole. Hmmm.

One thing I def do recall from childhood is being crap at packing. I clearly haven’t mastered this art as I took along my heavy laptop with me to Zanzibar even though I could access work mails on both phone and iPad. A quick digression about laptop….IT IS POSSESSED! Really wish I had a secret camera recording my interactions with this machine. The other day it started typing out words on its own. Last week, returned from the gym at an unusual time and that may have caught laptop by surprise ‘cos a movie was playing I had not even downloaded. Since I have taken to sprinkling it with holy water every morning the “incidents” have been few and far between. Told ya it was possessed.

And before you say anything, I know for sure it ain’t cleaning lady that rigged laptop to play tricks on me ‘cos I am glad to announce to y’all she is now officially married. Yaay me. She did play one trick on me though (or was it the chef?). All I know is someone finished the NICE biscuits I left in fridge. I def know I didn’t finish it before travelling to Zanzibar so either cleaning lady or chef (or both) ate it or threw it out. They/she eats my sugary snacks yet leaves savoury stuff like Jacob’s Crackers untouched. They/she must have a sweet tooth like moi. They/she must have facial hair too ‘cos my aftershave balm is rapidly depleting.
Must confess I was a bit paranoid cleaning lady wasn’t gonna go through with wedding after I gave her a ride last month and asked about the wedding plans. All she said was, “everything is going according to plan”, then gave me a wink. What was that supposed to mean? Is she in cahoots with my voodoo priestess masseuse? Is that what aftershave lotion is being used for? Hey, when did I start giving cleaning lady rides anyway? Damn these women, they are slowly wiggling their way into my life, making me dependent on them. Case in point is hurting right shoulder. Resisted going to voodoo masseuse, and instead tried another masseuse in Juba. Diddly squat. Had two massages in Zanzibar and before that, saw a naturopathic doctor in Lagos. Nada worked. Hate to say it but I might have to go back to voodoo lady once I return from the Xmas break. Nooooooooooo!!!!!

Naturopathic doctor was a unique experience. Had a session of acupuncture and three sessions of cupping therapy. Though shoulder ache wasn’t improved, I think the acupuncture may have resolved pain on left side of stomach near crotch. Doesn’t hurt much anymore.

Week spent in Lagos (principally for dentist appointment) was aiight. Mom was visibly shocked at how gaunt I looked. Hopefully, I have filled out since then. Went to sweet-potato-and-fish-peppersoup spot again, and you know you may have gone there a tad too many times when the waiter from the joint adds you on LinkedIn.

Was supposed to hang with mate from boarding school – dude who recorded himself dancing in his tighty whities – but he got stuck in Abuja. He couldn’t make the secondary school reunion either so we both had to catch up on goings-on via the WhatsApp group. Could not wait for the reunion to end so I could get outta the group, but some interesting exchanges have since cropped up. After the Harvey Weinstein harassment thang first blew up and started taking down everyone from politicians to journalists I kept wondering if same could happen in South Sudan or Nigeria. From stories one hears of male university tutors trading sex for grades or blatant sexual advances at women in the workplace, I couldn’t fathom what women in Africa go through or how they cope. Wondered why with the misogyny in rap lyrics there hadn’t been more prominent hip-hop personalities accused of sexual misconduct. This NY Times article goes some way to offering an explanation.

Had assumed all victims of harassment in Nigeria were female until one of the guys in the WhatsApp group confessed he purposely skipped out on the reunion ‘cos he cannot imagine himself visiting Warri, let alone the school. Said he knew of boys in our year that were sexually assaulted by seniors. U what? I coulda sworn that stuff never occurred. Woah, just woah. I think back to secondary school days and apart from the occasional bullying I really do not have any awful memories. I was always a happy-go-lucky kid who found humour in everything. I still do. A few years ago, I was surprised when a class mate confessed he had had a dreadful time back in secondary school and reckons I probably used humour to swat away any hurts I coulda experienced then.

Does this mean we essentially remain the same through life? I have thought of this, and blogged about it, occasionally. Some things about us change but our core behavior appears not to. For example, I was a real scruffy kid in boarding school, with clothes that ended up dirty no matter how carefully I conducted myself. I had white khaki shorts in my first year and I would complain to all who would listen that shorts were dirty ‘cos they were khaki and thus, tough to wash manually, and not ‘cos I was scruffy. Ha. You laugh, but I remember another dude whose parents thought having a white silk shirt would be appropriate in a boarding house. Anyhoo, I am uber tidy now and get anal about keeping my environment clean. So that’s a change, but it’s superficial, not “core”. I am talking of stuff that seems to be almost inveterate. Some mates who exaggerated a bit when we were kids still do, others who were obsequious still are, those who were obstreperous remain so, even after marriage and kids. I, who didn’t mind if you took advantage of me much as long as you were happy, remain the same. I am more assertive now and less shy, but still hate to upset people or tell them no; instead, I would rather avoid them. Still detest reminding folk to repay monies I lent them; still have no sense of direction; still act immaturely. As earlier mentioned, one thing that hasn’t changed in echt Tunde is his inability to pack light. I vividly remember carrying a massive duffel bag filled with books and toys, in addition to regular backpack, to class back in primary school. My mom was always quick to grab a whip or smack me at any slight annoyance, so I reckon I musta moaned a lot before she acquiesced to my lugging all that junk with me to school. Presently, no matter how many times I try, my work bag somehow finds itself filled with all sorts of crap that ensure bag feels as if it’s housing an overweight midget. A mate who fancies herself as an amateur shrink reckons it could be my eagerness to help others out, i.e. metaphorically carrying the world’s problems on my shoulders, that’s transforming itself in the physical. Bah humbug.

Perhaps any new, non-rigid “core” traits one develops are those that weren’t formed in childhood. For instance, how does one grow up to become a womanizer, since no one obviously could not have had this core trait as an adolescent? This brings to fore the nature versus nurture debate. Thinking back to my serious relationships, I believe I have mostly taken the lady’s feelings into consideration, but yeah, I could be aloof, selfish even. Could that be due to my “core” of never being the jealous type? Is that why I may have evolved in certain aspects, but am becoming more blasé as the years go by?

Three months ago, I received an email from my first real girlfriend, well, first or second as hard to place a precise timeline on these things. While going through her mailbox she came across an email I had written and forwarded it along. In it, I apologized for something I was blameless for, but since she was upset I wrote to her essentially taking on the blame – Akon had nada on me - and apologizing for upsetting her. I would reproduce email here if I didn’t sound like such a wuss back then. Ha. Truthfully, I do not recognize the dude that wrote that stuff. Kinda how I read my old journal entries and feel I am reading the musings of a total stranger. After reading ex’s email, or rather, my email to her, I couldn’t help thinking, “what happened to that sensitive dude from 2001/2?” I miss that dude. Nowadays, if someone feels I hurt them, yet I know I have done my best and am not in the wrong, especially if I have apologized at least once before, I act all meh and try to move on. Yeah, you miss them and get the urge to reach out, but 9.9 times outta 10 I resist the urge. If only I could do same with chocolate. Life, eh? Sadly, when we communicate months/years later, things ain’t the same and relationship eventually fritters away. It’s expected, no? Going from talking weekly, sometimes daily, to complete silence? Naturally, stuff y’all both found funny stops being so, inside jokes become hackneyed, it’s just the way of the world. Man, I hate to be this somber just before Christmas. Need to quickly find something humorous to bat these feelings away. Hmmm, I wonder what Trump’s been up to….

Tot ziens and God bless.

PS
Yup, those earphones I bought on plane were indeed crap. They don’t fit properly when running on treadmill and Bluetooth activation distance is all of 3 feet!