Loadsa ram (meat) but no storage space
Hola peeps.
I promised myself I would publish at least one blog entry per month and now the year’s almost ended I have loads to catch up on. Let’s see how I do today.
I also promised myself I would avoid discussions of my bowel movements until next year but woke up this morning at 5am with bad runs. Went twice before work and woulda skipped out on the office entirely if I didn’t have series of meetings lined up. Was at a conference yesterday and musta eaten something at the cocktail afterparty ‘cos that’s only explanation for the poop gusher this morning. Good thang I tried out a bidet for the first time in the Jakarta hotel earlier this month ‘cos ever since I returned to Juba I’ve been looking forward to using the loo even more than usual, ‘cos of the hose cum bidet attached to water closet. And to think I had lived in same apartment for 3.33 years without using it once. What a waste. I am making up for lost time though, I have taken to eating fruit by the bucket load just so I can utilize bidet.
Bog roll is getting ignored and has resorted to all sortsa antics to become prominent in my life once more. I have seen the Toy Story and Lego Movie ahem movies so I am on to the fact inanimate objects move when sentient beings aren’t paying attention. How else does one explain bog roll appearances in recent weeks in front of bathroom mirror, bedroom mirror and marble counter in living room where I place feet during morning stretches prior to HIIT?
I walked into my local supermarket last week and the attendant wondered why he hadn’t seen me in yonks. Told him I’d been away for 2 months and he said he suspected as much ‘cos I’d not reupped my bog roll supply in a while. Well, he’d better get used to it ‘cos I have been using same bog roll since my return to Juba 3 weeks ago. Increased bidet use has me day-dreaming on what to do with all the money I’ll save from not having to buy jumbo packs of bog roll.
Speaking of poop-triggered dreams, the one I had last night consisted of me having to go in the guest loo at Lebron James’s new crib. In the dream he seemed to still be unpacking, so I had to move a glossy painting featuring 9 images of Missy Elliot, modelled to convey a sorta style evolution over the years, outta the way to enable me handle my business. I also recall Dwayne Wade walking through the front door as I darted into the loo. There’s another business networking thang in Juba planned for tomorrow evening, but there’s no way I am tasting any food. Can’t risk having any more weird dreams starring basketball hall of famers.
How y’all been? Since we last communicated, I did Lagos-London-Edinburgh-London-Lagos-Jakarta-Bali-Jakarta-Lagos-Juba-Mombasa (well, Kilifi to be precise)-Juba, if you ignore transits in Dubai and Nairobi. It wasn’t the plan when I left Juba in early August for bi-annual visit to the UK to see my daughter. I’da known it was gonna be an unusual vacation when I discovered I had used same taxi guy from Lagos airport to my crib in May and in August. What are the odds? After the usual haggling I went with him and coulda sworn he looked hella familiar, but it wasn’t ‘til I got into his car and he turned on the CD playing a collection of old school Country-Western songs that I remembered he was same dude! Just to ensure he wasn’t tracking me I avoided airport taxis and took an Uber on return to Lagos from Jakarta. Now what took me to Jakarta, you ask? If I told you it was work-related, will you believe me? Man, there’s so much to spill I need to start with trip to Lagos.
Arrived in nick of time for Eid and went to a mate’s crib for sallah celebrations, but sadly only had ice cream there ‘cos had stopped by Beachland first to see the folks and got stuffed with food, as usual. Not sure if it’s feeling pampered that kicked my taste buds back to childhood, but ice cream at mate’s tasted like baby formula; Cerelac to be precise. Time at Beachland with moms triggered other senses as well: the food on display got my spiritual side focused on the first part of Psalm 23 verse 5; after the meal it was my athletic sense to the fore ‘cos like a sumo wrestler I had to be oiled up and gently massaged through mom’s apartment door into car due to the bloat; then on ride to mate’s, while leaving mouth ajar so I’d breathe, I thought of a business idea. We have Uber X and Uber Pool and Uber Black, but how about an Uber package that’s only available during festivities in Nigeria? It’d be available for a short time only, sorta like the McRib. L&G, I introduce to you the Uber Wheelbarrow. Unlike other Uber options this exclusive package allows you to do no work with your feet. The Uber driver, with or without the assistance of your family/friends, props you up from settee where you are most likely splayed out after gorging yourself on Sallah/Christmas/Wedding/Funeral/Baby Dedication food, dumps you into a wheelbarrow and wheels your gluttonous arse into the specially designed ambulance-type Uber vehicle, tricked out with all sorts of helpful amenities like a puke bucket, where one lies horizontal until one gets to destination and driver repeats the whole prop up-deposit in wheelbarrow-dump on couch act. Granted the Uber Wheelbarrow would be pricier than regular Ubers but it’d be totally worth it for the all-inclusive service, especially if there are stairs involved. Think about it.
You can’t blame me for stuffing myself at Beachland ‘cos as soon as I got in mom offered vegetable sauce, peppered snails, fish, chicken (local chicken), jollof rice, and plantain; Mama Seyi brought over iced tea, non-alcoholic wine, mixed juice and malt; while Big mommy furnished me with moin moin, gizzard and more jollof rice. Had to taste something from each apartment to please my “constituents” and it made me appreciate God once more for the family and how we were raised. Sent pics of food to Chief in the UK and dude tried to play the victim by calling (read: stressing) the moms for giving me so much attention when he’s in the UK alone. They responded in varying ways but conveyed the same unmistakable message: ni%$a please.
Chief (who’s now taken to referring to himself in the third person as Octo since he turned 80) was in the UK for further medical checkups and remained there throughout my UK visit and other travels. I suspect he plans his trips to coincide with my visit ‘cos dude’s been so pampered most of his adult life he can’t seem to do diddly unless he’s left with no choice. We’re talking stuff as insignificant as making tea or boiling eggs. One day I asked if he wanted anything before I stepped out. “Oh, nothing much ‘cos I already ate outside. Erm, on second thought maybe you’d dish me some rice, erm, add moin moin, also fish or beef, no, make it chicken. Ehen, add 2-3 strips of cheese as well…”
Mama Seyi joined us in the UK a day after my arrival and left for the US a day before my return to Naija. It was the height of mirth watching her instruct Chief on how to work the kettle and microwave and prepare his oatmeal. On morning of my departure, it was my turn to provide a primer on what to place in the recycle bin, what days to take which bin out, and how to work the new boiler. Wish I’da furtively recorded these encounters on my phone so I’d play them back over and over on boring days in Juba.
As usual, highlight of visit to the UK was time with my daughter. We went to a trampoline park and was a great experience just bouncing around. The next weekend we saw the amazing Toy Story 4. Took a series of goofy photos in a photo booth at the trampoline park and keep those in wallet. Unfortunately, I am yet to capture a modicum of such magic during our FaceTime calls but came mighty close 2 Sundays ago. Maybe ‘cos it was the last Sunday before clocks moved back, who knows, but she wasn’t so keen to end the conversation as is her wont. The encyclopedia I got her was a Godsend ‘cos she used that to pick out her Word of the Week and it was “drill”. When asked to explain what word meant she proceeded to sketch a hand drill on a sheet of paper. Being the geek I am, and wanting the conversation to last longer, I enquired further if said drill was pneumatic or electric, and she expanded on the drawing by including an electrical connection with annotated on-off switch. I took a screen grab of the pic and spent that day, and days afterwards, buzzing and viewing the picture on iPad repeatedly. I don’t know if I have ever been happier this year. Man, it was an unbelievable high. Now I get why peeps have kids, or I did until last Sunday when during our FaceTime call it was the opposite; she wouldn’t gimme the time of day. Everything I tried to do to engage her interest fell like dead weight. I am ashamed to admit that as soon as I got off that call I thought of having another kid just to make her jealous. #Sad
I promised myself I would publish at least one blog entry per month and now the year’s almost ended I have loads to catch up on. Let’s see how I do today.
I also promised myself I would avoid discussions of my bowel movements until next year but woke up this morning at 5am with bad runs. Went twice before work and woulda skipped out on the office entirely if I didn’t have series of meetings lined up. Was at a conference yesterday and musta eaten something at the cocktail afterparty ‘cos that’s only explanation for the poop gusher this morning. Good thang I tried out a bidet for the first time in the Jakarta hotel earlier this month ‘cos ever since I returned to Juba I’ve been looking forward to using the loo even more than usual, ‘cos of the hose cum bidet attached to water closet. And to think I had lived in same apartment for 3.33 years without using it once. What a waste. I am making up for lost time though, I have taken to eating fruit by the bucket load just so I can utilize bidet.
Bog roll is getting ignored and has resorted to all sortsa antics to become prominent in my life once more. I have seen the Toy Story and Lego Movie ahem movies so I am on to the fact inanimate objects move when sentient beings aren’t paying attention. How else does one explain bog roll appearances in recent weeks in front of bathroom mirror, bedroom mirror and marble counter in living room where I place feet during morning stretches prior to HIIT?
I walked into my local supermarket last week and the attendant wondered why he hadn’t seen me in yonks. Told him I’d been away for 2 months and he said he suspected as much ‘cos I’d not reupped my bog roll supply in a while. Well, he’d better get used to it ‘cos I have been using same bog roll since my return to Juba 3 weeks ago. Increased bidet use has me day-dreaming on what to do with all the money I’ll save from not having to buy jumbo packs of bog roll.
Speaking of poop-triggered dreams, the one I had last night consisted of me having to go in the guest loo at Lebron James’s new crib. In the dream he seemed to still be unpacking, so I had to move a glossy painting featuring 9 images of Missy Elliot, modelled to convey a sorta style evolution over the years, outta the way to enable me handle my business. I also recall Dwayne Wade walking through the front door as I darted into the loo. There’s another business networking thang in Juba planned for tomorrow evening, but there’s no way I am tasting any food. Can’t risk having any more weird dreams starring basketball hall of famers.
How y’all been? Since we last communicated, I did Lagos-London-Edinburgh-London-Lagos-Jakarta-Bali-Jakarta-Lagos-Juba-Mombasa (well, Kilifi to be precise)-Juba, if you ignore transits in Dubai and Nairobi. It wasn’t the plan when I left Juba in early August for bi-annual visit to the UK to see my daughter. I’da known it was gonna be an unusual vacation when I discovered I had used same taxi guy from Lagos airport to my crib in May and in August. What are the odds? After the usual haggling I went with him and coulda sworn he looked hella familiar, but it wasn’t ‘til I got into his car and he turned on the CD playing a collection of old school Country-Western songs that I remembered he was same dude! Just to ensure he wasn’t tracking me I avoided airport taxis and took an Uber on return to Lagos from Jakarta. Now what took me to Jakarta, you ask? If I told you it was work-related, will you believe me? Man, there’s so much to spill I need to start with trip to Lagos.
Arrived in nick of time for Eid and went to a mate’s crib for sallah celebrations, but sadly only had ice cream there ‘cos had stopped by Beachland first to see the folks and got stuffed with food, as usual. Not sure if it’s feeling pampered that kicked my taste buds back to childhood, but ice cream at mate’s tasted like baby formula; Cerelac to be precise. Time at Beachland with moms triggered other senses as well: the food on display got my spiritual side focused on the first part of Psalm 23 verse 5; after the meal it was my athletic sense to the fore ‘cos like a sumo wrestler I had to be oiled up and gently massaged through mom’s apartment door into car due to the bloat; then on ride to mate’s, while leaving mouth ajar so I’d breathe, I thought of a business idea. We have Uber X and Uber Pool and Uber Black, but how about an Uber package that’s only available during festivities in Nigeria? It’d be available for a short time only, sorta like the McRib. L&G, I introduce to you the Uber Wheelbarrow. Unlike other Uber options this exclusive package allows you to do no work with your feet. The Uber driver, with or without the assistance of your family/friends, props you up from settee where you are most likely splayed out after gorging yourself on Sallah/Christmas/Wedding/Funeral/Baby Dedication food, dumps you into a wheelbarrow and wheels your gluttonous arse into the specially designed ambulance-type Uber vehicle, tricked out with all sorts of helpful amenities like a puke bucket, where one lies horizontal until one gets to destination and driver repeats the whole prop up-deposit in wheelbarrow-dump on couch act. Granted the Uber Wheelbarrow would be pricier than regular Ubers but it’d be totally worth it for the all-inclusive service, especially if there are stairs involved. Think about it.
You can’t blame me for stuffing myself at Beachland ‘cos as soon as I got in mom offered vegetable sauce, peppered snails, fish, chicken (local chicken), jollof rice, and plantain; Mama Seyi brought over iced tea, non-alcoholic wine, mixed juice and malt; while Big mommy furnished me with moin moin, gizzard and more jollof rice. Had to taste something from each apartment to please my “constituents” and it made me appreciate God once more for the family and how we were raised. Sent pics of food to Chief in the UK and dude tried to play the victim by calling (read: stressing) the moms for giving me so much attention when he’s in the UK alone. They responded in varying ways but conveyed the same unmistakable message: ni%$a please.
Chief (who’s now taken to referring to himself in the third person as Octo since he turned 80) was in the UK for further medical checkups and remained there throughout my UK visit and other travels. I suspect he plans his trips to coincide with my visit ‘cos dude’s been so pampered most of his adult life he can’t seem to do diddly unless he’s left with no choice. We’re talking stuff as insignificant as making tea or boiling eggs. One day I asked if he wanted anything before I stepped out. “Oh, nothing much ‘cos I already ate outside. Erm, on second thought maybe you’d dish me some rice, erm, add moin moin, also fish or beef, no, make it chicken. Ehen, add 2-3 strips of cheese as well…”
Mama Seyi joined us in the UK a day after my arrival and left for the US a day before my return to Naija. It was the height of mirth watching her instruct Chief on how to work the kettle and microwave and prepare his oatmeal. On morning of my departure, it was my turn to provide a primer on what to place in the recycle bin, what days to take which bin out, and how to work the new boiler. Wish I’da furtively recorded these encounters on my phone so I’d play them back over and over on boring days in Juba.
As usual, highlight of visit to the UK was time with my daughter. We went to a trampoline park and was a great experience just bouncing around. The next weekend we saw the amazing Toy Story 4. Took a series of goofy photos in a photo booth at the trampoline park and keep those in wallet. Unfortunately, I am yet to capture a modicum of such magic during our FaceTime calls but came mighty close 2 Sundays ago. Maybe ‘cos it was the last Sunday before clocks moved back, who knows, but she wasn’t so keen to end the conversation as is her wont. The encyclopedia I got her was a Godsend ‘cos she used that to pick out her Word of the Week and it was “drill”. When asked to explain what word meant she proceeded to sketch a hand drill on a sheet of paper. Being the geek I am, and wanting the conversation to last longer, I enquired further if said drill was pneumatic or electric, and she expanded on the drawing by including an electrical connection with annotated on-off switch. I took a screen grab of the pic and spent that day, and days afterwards, buzzing and viewing the picture on iPad repeatedly. I don’t know if I have ever been happier this year. Man, it was an unbelievable high. Now I get why peeps have kids, or I did until last Sunday when during our FaceTime call it was the opposite; she wouldn’t gimme the time of day. Everything I tried to do to engage her interest fell like dead weight. I am ashamed to admit that as soon as I got off that call I thought of having another kid just to make her jealous. #Sad
Yes, I still ain’t keen on having more kids but something
happened during one-month wait in Lagos (for Indonesia visa application process
to be approved), I seriously contemplated getting married again. It was the
reason I was so keen to return to Juba and attend kickboxing class. Was hoping,
nah praying, an errant kick or punch would reset brain. Been back in Juba for 3
weeks now – feels longer – and the marriage itch has dissipated a wee bit but
not outright disappeared. I used to actively pray to God at least once a week
to never let remarriage thoughts come up but these days I am more meh
about it. A mate reckons renewed feelings for wanting to settle down could be
affiliated with really living during month-long sojourn in Lagos. Unlike
Juba where it’s mostly work, she reckons doing non-work related stuff in Lagos,
i.e. chilling with mates, ice cream, movies, ice cream, going on dates, ice
cream, etc., brought back memories of what life used to should be like.
Didn’t help that a girl I had always fancied for yonks chose to finally meet
up, after ignoring my calls for past 2 years. She’s at that point in her life
where she wants to get married and have kids, and I told her of my somewhat
evolution on the former but not the latter. Until FaceTime conversation last
Sunday, that is…hee hee hee. I don’t know man, told her I’d give it
some serious thought until my next trip to Naija in Christmas, but to be honest
I’ve been so swamped with work I haven’t had time to ruminate over my
relationship path. Good thing is we agreed to cease all contact until my
arrival in Naija so any decision taken is uninfluenced by emotions that would
naturally arise from daily communication.
Also trying to convince myself that these developing thoughts on remarriage don’t constitute perfidy to other chicks I told I was never getting married. Let’s not forget Harriet my cleaning lady and ersatz wife. Hee hee. On a serious tip, in just the past month a close friend of over 9 years wanted to know why I never saw her as worthy of having a relationship with, another of ca 5 years wondered something similar, and the Ugandan lady I told y'all about in previous blog entries asked why I don’t pay her attention anymore. I’d normally crack a joke at these approaches with my akratic side coming to the fore so as not to hurt anyone’s feelings but was honest, well somewhat honest, with them. Plainly told the Ugandan chick I got tired of being taken for a fool so had to keep my distance. Turns out she wasn’t blind to some of the things she had done in the past. So she did them purposely, what did she expect to happen? That I’d continually be at her beck and call? Women, man! 2 weeks ago, she confessed to missing me and tried to appeal to some sense of compassion(?) within me but was too busy enjoying the scenery from the villa in Kilifi to give it a second’s thought. Had previously invited her to a friend’s wedding in Nairobi in December, and now that my feelings, rather the lack thereof, towards her are out in the open I offered her several opportunities to back out of the invite, but she insists on attending. Should make for an awkward weekend.
Also trying to convince myself that these developing thoughts on remarriage don’t constitute perfidy to other chicks I told I was never getting married. Let’s not forget Harriet my cleaning lady and ersatz wife. Hee hee. On a serious tip, in just the past month a close friend of over 9 years wanted to know why I never saw her as worthy of having a relationship with, another of ca 5 years wondered something similar, and the Ugandan lady I told y'all about in previous blog entries asked why I don’t pay her attention anymore. I’d normally crack a joke at these approaches with my akratic side coming to the fore so as not to hurt anyone’s feelings but was honest, well somewhat honest, with them. Plainly told the Ugandan chick I got tired of being taken for a fool so had to keep my distance. Turns out she wasn’t blind to some of the things she had done in the past. So she did them purposely, what did she expect to happen? That I’d continually be at her beck and call? Women, man! 2 weeks ago, she confessed to missing me and tried to appeal to some sense of compassion(?) within me but was too busy enjoying the scenery from the villa in Kilifi to give it a second’s thought. Had previously invited her to a friend’s wedding in Nairobi in December, and now that my feelings, rather the lack thereof, towards her are out in the open I offered her several opportunities to back out of the invite, but she insists on attending. Should make for an awkward weekend.
Of course, I haven’t revealed my remarriage ambivalence to any family
member as it would spread like wildfire and before you know mom would intensify
her fasting and prayer. She and my uncle initially blamed me for my cousin’s repudiation
of marriage even though we ain’t close and I only communicate with him on his
birthday. Dude’s finally getting married next month so one’s gotta wonder what
other societal ills they are gonna thrust on my shoulders now. Although waiting
an entire month to get an Indonesian visa was frustrating, the time in Lagos
was a boon to relationship with mom. We saw each other 3 consecutive weekends
and she musta given a thanksgiving offering in her church afterwards. Hadn’t a
clue how much she longed for a relationship until after my visit to her that
Eid weekend. She sent me a WhatsApp message once I got home thanking me
profusely for spending time with her and said she thanked God for allowing us properly
interact for the first time in eons. I recall over lunch I had laughed at one
of her jokes and I swear I could hear the wheels turning in her head after I
laughed, “woah, Tunde laughed at my joke?!” She became like a kid after
discovering an act they enjoy, and repeated the joke, not once but twice. It
was about a wedding she attended with my uncle where the groom was humungous
and the bride rail thin. She juxtaposed the couple with those National
Geographic images of bird landing on a buffalo, and told me she and her nutty
brother spent the wedding wondering how the couple navigates intercourse, and
suggested I go for a real obese lady when I eventually decide on a bride. “Hey,
you’ve deprived me of a daughter-in-law for this long, I might as well enjoy a
good laugh with your uncle at your expense.” Man, I’d almost forgotten how
funny she is.
Shall update y’all on travels some other time as I gotta pick out a suit for work tomorrow…..and just discovered bog roll hiding in the closet. Need to find a way to end this bunny boiler antics. I would flush it down the toilet but that would be giving it what it wants, no?
Tot ziens and God bless.
Shall update y’all on travels some other time as I gotta pick out a suit for work tomorrow…..and just discovered bog roll hiding in the closet. Need to find a way to end this bunny boiler antics. I would flush it down the toilet but that would be giving it what it wants, no?
Tot ziens and God bless.
