If it’s yellow let it mellow, if it’s brown flush it down

Hola peeps.

Good week? Mine was packed with a 2-day conference at which I was a panelist on first day and tried not to fall asleep on second day. Did the latter by standing at back of the auditorium a few times and even skipped out towards the end to go change (read: drop off jacket, touch up on deodorant and roll sleeves up to elbow) at home for the post conference cocktails. Dunno if it was the presence of another Nigerian at the party but danced like I haven’t done in yonks. Usually I am shy about these things and only dance when I have a dance partner, but I didn’t give a hoot this time. I could tell it was a strange sight ‘cos folk who only see me at work settings couldn’t help but offer comments. Some even pulled out their phones to record this executive of a company in a foreign country - that's the mantra I repeat in the mirror every morning to convince myself to stop acting childish - dancing like he just won the lotto.

Quite surprised I was able to move feet ‘cos last week I played 3 footie games in 2 days and ended up with a sprained right index finger, aching right big toe and messed up ankles. They still hurt and now I am starting to believe I am in my 40s ‘cos these ailments woulda been gone within 2 days earlier in life. I went running today just to test out ankles and did kickboxing afterwards. Had to do this ‘cos I intend to take part in an 8km race on Friday. Oh yeah, forgot to tell y’all I am now addicted to running. Tend to do 5km 3-4 times a week and did an 8km race last month in 39 minutes. Why the sudden interest in running? Dunno, maybe I am running away from my past. I chose that line ‘cos my brother Loye said it to me while running one night back in Beachland and I found it hilarious. It was just before Chief’s 70^th birthday if I recall.

Mate thinks the sudden zest for running is down to a midlife crisis. She suggested that after discovering I dipped outta another conference earlier this month in Cape Town to go paragliding and skydiving. Was primed to go bungee jumping in Soweto as well but that didn’t pan out. Could rectify that in Nairobi next month though. Midlife crisis, huh? Well, I cannot afford a muscle bike/car and Juba is too hot for a leather jacket so yeah, maybe she’s right that I am living my best action hero fantasy as an alternative. As if. The paragliding/skydiving thang was ‘cos I had colleagues also interested in same. Not sure I’da done that on my own if there were no takers…..I probably woulda to be honest. Re running, the first time gym instructor suggested we run from apartment to the Juba airport and back, just over 5km, I was so glad not to be stuck on a treadmill I didn’t wanna stop. It was so freeing that I emulated Forrest Gump and started running everywhere. I used to run outside only on weekends with a group of friends, but since I started running on my own it was like a switch in me was turned on. On Saturdays, I normally would drive to meet-up spot, run with the pack, then drive home. Now, I run to designated spot, do the run with the team, then run back home. You know that 8km marathon I mentioned earlier? I ran 4km from crib to starting spot, did the 8km marathon, took a dump in an unkempt loo, ran 4km back home, showered, drove to church, did an hour of kickboxing and drove back home to pack for trip to Uganda the next day. Yup, I am a bad man. The Nigerian Panther is officially back.

In the past month I have also taken up intermittent fasting - on weekdays only - where I go 16hrs between last meal of the day and first meal of the following day; I drink water all through though. Why am I doing this since I do not need to lose weight as I have pretty much weighed between 73kg and 77kg for as long as I can remember? Well, heard a mate’s husband talk about intermittent fasting and said it might curb my appetite for chocolate, so I decided to try it for the same reason I hold breath from time to time (during jumping jacks) while executing HIIT, for the challenge. Not sure it has achieved its aim re chocolate consumption, but now I no loner pop a chocolate bar in mouth every morning before leaving for the office. Don’t shake your collective heads, it’s been scientifically proven by my UK dentist - who just bought a Harley Davidson bike with matching leather riding gear - that chocolate is the breakfast of champions.

Bad side effect of intermittent fasting are the weird dreams I have been having. The other day I woke up in sweats after a nightmare about a talking dog chasing me and asking, nah pleading, to take a bite off left leg. I recall it Whistling Dixie and referring to me as Mr. Good Leg. Woah, I think my dog-given nom de plume would work as a great title for both Nollywood and Hollywood movies as well as a Country-Western song. Go intermittent fasting!

I best tell y’all of South African trip before Harriet summons me again. Oh by the way, we have broken up again. She keeps cooking only sweet potatoes and fish! Yeah, I did tell her I love sweet potatoes and am trying to get less meat in my diet, but to feed me same thang day in day out? Maka why? Okay, where was I? Yup, South Africa. Man, Cape Town is the most beautiful city I have visited. Utterly stunning, great weather and loads to do. If you ignore the pell-mell nature of my outbound flight from Juba to Cape Town - 6-hour layover at the Kigali International airport with a sparse lounge and zero sleeping facilities and 4-hour layover at the O.R. Tambo International airport in Johannesburg with nonexistent WiFi – everything about time in South Africa was amazing. Well, apart from the Botswanan lady who came unannounced to me while waiting in lobby of Johannesburg hotel. This was no gamine, more like a gadfly. She wouldn’t shut up. Went on and on about herself, her pastor TB Joshua, how she was just checking out of same hotel and hoped they would give me her room, how she lives in Joburg and only checked into hotel to get away from what’s happening at home, how……end of the day she went from offering to buy me a beer to requesting I get her a bottle of wine, and finally asked if I wanted “company” during my 2 night stay in Joburg. I politely declined.

I already mentioned my Ethan Hunt escapades in Cape Town, but conference was worthwhile too. Tried warthog – sorry Pumbaa – and ostrich, and these were huge slabs of meat – if only Harriet would take note - unlike Carnivore restaurant in Nairobi where one is promised exotic meat but ends up with only teeny pieces. Towards end of my week-long stay I noticed I developed a slight South African accent, but only when ordering sparkling water. Strange.

On first night in Cape Town we went to Cubana Lounge and walked down Long Street. The latter was redolent of pub crawls back in uni. Seeing a woman puke by a bar was an added reminder of days when all I had to do was study and not worry about expenses. Good times. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention time spent at Joe’s Pub on Long Street. Wouldn’t call it time well spent or even time I intended to spend, but mate of colleague based in Cape Town suggested we go in. We walked in and all I could think about was, “who is watching Cape Town’s teenagers while these folks are in here?” My colleague summed it accurately by calling Joe’s the largest collection of unserious parents per capita in the world. You know how there’s always that one guy or lady who’s a little too old for the club? Now imagine there’s a club filled with just those people, that’s Joe’s.  How can ALL women in a club have protruding stomachs?! The guys weren’t much better. You know how during my initial trips to East Africa I mentioned how their women had hips? South African woman have those and more. “We have ass for days” should be the official motto of the South African tourist board.

Hotel in Cape Town was filled with signs advising water-saving measures, hence the blog title. No such signs were observed in Johannesburg, but I imbibed (pun intended) the water-saving measures and brought them back with me to Juba. Now, I wear same underwear on consecutive days to save water and reduce Harriet’s laundry load. I fear she may have caught on ‘cos I came back last night to a pile of newly-sewn red boxer shorts. It appears they were sewn from same fabric she made the red bedsheet out of. Awww, just when I thought we were done she pulls me back in with such loving, arse-chaffing – I was being generous with the whole “boxer shorts” tag, they are more like thongs - gestures.

Tot ziens and God bless.