Ladies and Gentlemen, for my next trick I’ll be making Ayoola dump Joey and take me back
Hola peeps.
Chances are if you are reading this you are stuck at home either self-isolating or quarantining or some form of one of these. Those of you in Nigeria who’ve been on lockdown forever should have developed some extra-sensory abilities by now and musta figured out I am typing this blog entry slower than usual. Yes, you are right! The reason is ‘cos my fingernails are longer than Wolverine’s claws from not having had a mani+pedi in forever. Had planned to have on in Nairobi on March 12th at mate’s spa, but they had issues with power so settled for a body scrub and massage instead. Returned to Juba on March 18th and proceeded to (mostly) self-isolate and work from home for 14 days as a positive case of Covid-19 was reported in Nairobi the Friday before my return to Juba. During my self-imposed isolation, even though no cases were reported – and still haven’t as at time of typing this - the South Sudan government decided to implement preventive measures by establishing a 8pm-6am curfew, mandating government institutions to end work daily by 1pm and shutting down non-essential businesses like barbers, spas, etc. That explains dire state of my nails.
Nails coulda been the least of my problems ‘cos I was almost tagged as Covid-19’s Patient Zero in Juba. Peep this: A week after I returned to Juba I woke up at 145am with breathing difficulties. Felt like there was fluid amassing inside chest cavity. The more I tried to swallow the more fluid would appear to accumulate in chest. I got up to boil hot water and drank tea for the first time in over two decades. Drank two cups, no relief. Chewed 2 tablets of antacid I found somewhere in the crib, infinitesimal relief. Couldn’t sleep so searched online for Covid-19 symptoms. Kept sniffing self to ensure I didn’t suffer from anosmia and about 7am I called the doctor to ask when I could come in. Dude said he was still on the way to the hospital and agreed to call me back. When he did and I explained my symptoms to him, he asked where I lived. Why does he wanna know? Told him and he replied that he was “arranging things” and would call me back. When he did, he asked for symptoms again and that’s when it dawned on me his “arrangements” were Covid-19 isolation procedures. I imagined myself in an ill-equipped isolation unit in Juba and the headlines in the Juba dailies, NIGERIAN BRINGS CORONAVIRUS TO SOUTH SUDAN: We Love Their Movies and Music But Not At This Cost. I quickly told him my body temperature was normal, I had no coughs or headaches and appetite was fine. He advised that I drive over to the clinic and blood work and other checks revealed all I had was gastritis. Phew!
This morning, attempted to go for first kickboxing class after social isolation ended, but car wouldn’t start. Been having same issue with car before I left for Nairobi but could tell it was bad this time when it failed to do its normal thang where I’d struggle to start car then it would miraculously come to life as soon it hears the mechanic’s footsteps. Called Coach to call off class and after mechanic took car for repairs I walked to the nearest supermarket, which happens to be one of the largest in Juba, in a bid to purchase a nail clipper. Ten minutes later I walked out with a tub of London Dairy Cookies and Cream ice cream and two tubs of Snowman’s yoghurt but no nail clipper. Yup, only reason I didn’t end up morbidly obese during home isolation was the 10km runs I used to complete 3x a week.
The supermarket was more packed than usual and a mate I bumped into while there posited crowd size was most likely due to rumours of the government’s plans for a full lockdown of activities next week Tuesday. If that’s the case someone needs to explain when nail clippers joined bog rolls as essential items required for surviving the coronapocalypse? Insane that the supermarket had everything in stock but nail clippers were sold out. And it ain’t as if the clippers were placed in some corner with other meaningless bric-a-brac that people hardly pick out; there was a prominent enough display close to cashiers with NAIL CLIPPERS boldly printed, with price tags and everything! I mean, who friggin’ sells out of nail clippers?! Maybe better question to ask is who in Juba’s hoarding nail clippers?
Juxtapose this with March 14th - the day when the first positive Covid-19 patient was identified in Kenya - when I walked into a massive supermarket in Nairobi and witnessed first-hand just how insane humans are. I had expected to receive passport from Canadian embassy earlier that day but was told visa was yet to be issued, so headed to the supermarket to purchase detergent and other essentials for my rental apartment as hadn’t anticipated staying in Nairobi for that long and was running outta clean underwear. It was ca 1pm by the time I walked into the supermarket and had to contact several friends in Nairobi to verify if shops are usually packed at that time of the day when folk should be at work. Their responses confirmed panic-buying had commenced as a result of the positive Covid-19 announcement. There I was with a small bag of detergent, a tub of Dairyland Chocolate Ripple ice cream and three bottles of sparkling water, surrounded by a horde of trolleys overflowing with bog rolls, hand sanitizers and vegetable oil. Some heavily-pregnant lady even bought two cane-woven basket-type contraptions that I fathomed was to put her newborn in and launch it into the deep, a la Moses, in case the coronapocalypse turns out to be more savage than expected. In Nairobi their neuroses are inspired by the Old Testament, in Juba we are more concerned with having tight nails for when we shoot our social media content to alleviate the ennui resulting from - if rumours are to be believed - the impending lockdown.
It’s now barely a week into the lockdown in Lagos and Abuja and my mates are going crazy. One dude filmed himself miming to Bobby Brown’s entire Don’t Be Cruel catalog, complete with dance moves and outfit changes. Since not everyone has a karaoke machine at home the others demonstrated their “talent” by doing pushups and body contortions like flipping eyelids inside out. Man, the world’s not gonna be the same if we survive the coronapocalypse. How am I supposed to look at these grown-ass folk the same after seeing their videos? My brother Ayo said in his estate neighbours hold inter-house games and award each other prizes. It hasn’t yet come to that in Juba, but if/when it does my recent attempts at a sub-50 minute 10k should put my apartment complex in good stead.
If all was normal with the world I would be psyching myself up by now and trying to force out poop so I wouldn’t have to stop at any point during the 42.1km Paris marathon, set to have been held tomorrow. It’s been postponed to October 18th, a full 13 days after most recent Schengen visa expires. Canadian visa expires in August so from the look of things I may have to apply for new visas to places I couldn’t visit due to the unprecedented interdiction of foreign travel as a result of the Covid-19 pandemic. EJ (girl in Naija I told y’all about in last blog entry…you know, the one that still thinks this punk is husband-material) is active on social media and asked what I’d do differently after Covid-19 is over, as loadsa people are putting up things like that alongside their #DontRushChallenge videos. Musta cracked a joke in response, but not sure I’d do anything different to be honest.
Oh, before I go on, you know how my usual default answer to everything is to find a source of humour in it? I think it may be grating on EJ now. She said something a few days ago about there being a good chance we mightn’t see each other again and jokingly asked what I’d do if she passed away. Remember she joked about it first(!) so I responded that I’d ensure I lost enough weight from crying just so I’d to fit into her jeans. Had been needling her about the large number of pairs of jeans she had earlier in the day so….let’s just say you had to be there. Anyhoo, I think she’ssomewhat mad at me
for maybe not providing a better (read: more romantic) answer? I am
still not sure to be honest, but you know what, I am a bit ambivalent about
things between us presently. For instance, if she called me up right now and
suggested we end things, in all honesty I don’t think I’d offer an objection. Maybe
now you get what I mean about not changing anything, or doing things
differently, post-Covid? It’s just not me. Don’t get me wrong, I
am fond of her and everything and I’d miss her terribly if we split but not
sure much would change with me. A friend sent me a message earlier today that
was profound, something to do with how ‘cos of Covid-19 we now know things we
never thought possible, like developed nations being just as vulnerable as
developing ones and building hospitals in days, etc. You know what I found out
about myself ‘cos of Covid-19? I miss airplanes! Between 3rd weeks
of March and April I was set to travel to Ukraine and Canada for different work
assignments; Brussels for one night, then Paris to partake in the marathon,
Barcelona for 3 nights, Stuttgart for 2 nights, Brussels for one night; then Kampala
for the Easter weekend. 3 weeks afterwards it woulda been a trip to Nigeria to
renew passport and attend Miguel’s wedding. Leitmotif of my time in Juba, huh?
Travel agent’s sad but kickboxing coach’s probably beaming ‘cos I definitely
woulda slacked off on exercise regimen if Covid-19 travel restrictions had not
come into play.
Chances are if you are reading this you are stuck at home either self-isolating or quarantining or some form of one of these. Those of you in Nigeria who’ve been on lockdown forever should have developed some extra-sensory abilities by now and musta figured out I am typing this blog entry slower than usual. Yes, you are right! The reason is ‘cos my fingernails are longer than Wolverine’s claws from not having had a mani+pedi in forever. Had planned to have on in Nairobi on March 12th at mate’s spa, but they had issues with power so settled for a body scrub and massage instead. Returned to Juba on March 18th and proceeded to (mostly) self-isolate and work from home for 14 days as a positive case of Covid-19 was reported in Nairobi the Friday before my return to Juba. During my self-imposed isolation, even though no cases were reported – and still haven’t as at time of typing this - the South Sudan government decided to implement preventive measures by establishing a 8pm-6am curfew, mandating government institutions to end work daily by 1pm and shutting down non-essential businesses like barbers, spas, etc. That explains dire state of my nails.
Nails coulda been the least of my problems ‘cos I was almost tagged as Covid-19’s Patient Zero in Juba. Peep this: A week after I returned to Juba I woke up at 145am with breathing difficulties. Felt like there was fluid amassing inside chest cavity. The more I tried to swallow the more fluid would appear to accumulate in chest. I got up to boil hot water and drank tea for the first time in over two decades. Drank two cups, no relief. Chewed 2 tablets of antacid I found somewhere in the crib, infinitesimal relief. Couldn’t sleep so searched online for Covid-19 symptoms. Kept sniffing self to ensure I didn’t suffer from anosmia and about 7am I called the doctor to ask when I could come in. Dude said he was still on the way to the hospital and agreed to call me back. When he did and I explained my symptoms to him, he asked where I lived. Why does he wanna know? Told him and he replied that he was “arranging things” and would call me back. When he did, he asked for symptoms again and that’s when it dawned on me his “arrangements” were Covid-19 isolation procedures. I imagined myself in an ill-equipped isolation unit in Juba and the headlines in the Juba dailies, NIGERIAN BRINGS CORONAVIRUS TO SOUTH SUDAN: We Love Their Movies and Music But Not At This Cost. I quickly told him my body temperature was normal, I had no coughs or headaches and appetite was fine. He advised that I drive over to the clinic and blood work and other checks revealed all I had was gastritis. Phew!
This morning, attempted to go for first kickboxing class after social isolation ended, but car wouldn’t start. Been having same issue with car before I left for Nairobi but could tell it was bad this time when it failed to do its normal thang where I’d struggle to start car then it would miraculously come to life as soon it hears the mechanic’s footsteps. Called Coach to call off class and after mechanic took car for repairs I walked to the nearest supermarket, which happens to be one of the largest in Juba, in a bid to purchase a nail clipper. Ten minutes later I walked out with a tub of London Dairy Cookies and Cream ice cream and two tubs of Snowman’s yoghurt but no nail clipper. Yup, only reason I didn’t end up morbidly obese during home isolation was the 10km runs I used to complete 3x a week.
The supermarket was more packed than usual and a mate I bumped into while there posited crowd size was most likely due to rumours of the government’s plans for a full lockdown of activities next week Tuesday. If that’s the case someone needs to explain when nail clippers joined bog rolls as essential items required for surviving the coronapocalypse? Insane that the supermarket had everything in stock but nail clippers were sold out. And it ain’t as if the clippers were placed in some corner with other meaningless bric-a-brac that people hardly pick out; there was a prominent enough display close to cashiers with NAIL CLIPPERS boldly printed, with price tags and everything! I mean, who friggin’ sells out of nail clippers?! Maybe better question to ask is who in Juba’s hoarding nail clippers?
Juxtapose this with March 14th - the day when the first positive Covid-19 patient was identified in Kenya - when I walked into a massive supermarket in Nairobi and witnessed first-hand just how insane humans are. I had expected to receive passport from Canadian embassy earlier that day but was told visa was yet to be issued, so headed to the supermarket to purchase detergent and other essentials for my rental apartment as hadn’t anticipated staying in Nairobi for that long and was running outta clean underwear. It was ca 1pm by the time I walked into the supermarket and had to contact several friends in Nairobi to verify if shops are usually packed at that time of the day when folk should be at work. Their responses confirmed panic-buying had commenced as a result of the positive Covid-19 announcement. There I was with a small bag of detergent, a tub of Dairyland Chocolate Ripple ice cream and three bottles of sparkling water, surrounded by a horde of trolleys overflowing with bog rolls, hand sanitizers and vegetable oil. Some heavily-pregnant lady even bought two cane-woven basket-type contraptions that I fathomed was to put her newborn in and launch it into the deep, a la Moses, in case the coronapocalypse turns out to be more savage than expected. In Nairobi their neuroses are inspired by the Old Testament, in Juba we are more concerned with having tight nails for when we shoot our social media content to alleviate the ennui resulting from - if rumours are to be believed - the impending lockdown.
It’s now barely a week into the lockdown in Lagos and Abuja and my mates are going crazy. One dude filmed himself miming to Bobby Brown’s entire Don’t Be Cruel catalog, complete with dance moves and outfit changes. Since not everyone has a karaoke machine at home the others demonstrated their “talent” by doing pushups and body contortions like flipping eyelids inside out. Man, the world’s not gonna be the same if we survive the coronapocalypse. How am I supposed to look at these grown-ass folk the same after seeing their videos? My brother Ayo said in his estate neighbours hold inter-house games and award each other prizes. It hasn’t yet come to that in Juba, but if/when it does my recent attempts at a sub-50 minute 10k should put my apartment complex in good stead.
If all was normal with the world I would be psyching myself up by now and trying to force out poop so I wouldn’t have to stop at any point during the 42.1km Paris marathon, set to have been held tomorrow. It’s been postponed to October 18th, a full 13 days after most recent Schengen visa expires. Canadian visa expires in August so from the look of things I may have to apply for new visas to places I couldn’t visit due to the unprecedented interdiction of foreign travel as a result of the Covid-19 pandemic. EJ (girl in Naija I told y’all about in last blog entry…you know, the one that still thinks this punk is husband-material) is active on social media and asked what I’d do differently after Covid-19 is over, as loadsa people are putting up things like that alongside their #DontRushChallenge videos. Musta cracked a joke in response, but not sure I’d do anything different to be honest.
Oh, before I go on, you know how my usual default answer to everything is to find a source of humour in it? I think it may be grating on EJ now. She said something a few days ago about there being a good chance we mightn’t see each other again and jokingly asked what I’d do if she passed away. Remember she joked about it first(!) so I responded that I’d ensure I lost enough weight from crying just so I’d to fit into her jeans. Had been needling her about the large number of pairs of jeans she had earlier in the day so….let’s just say you had to be there. Anyhoo, I think she’s
Discovered I adorrrre working from home. Yes, I missed the
interactions with colleagues and picking out suits and shirts to match, but
man, the lack of unnecessary disruptions has been amazing. No random folk
showing up with needless demands. Wearing pyjamas while typing on laptop is
just the best. One downside is my dumps no longer flush in one go as they used
to. Is it ‘cos working from home no longer made me a “stranger” to my loo? Has
the loo seen me finish, as they say in Naija?
Another thing I learnt about myself ‘cos of Covid-19 is I loooooove air conditioning! Case in point was rented accommodation in Nairobi. ‘Cos wasn’t sure of length of time Canadian visa application would take, mate suggested renting an apartment would be cheaper than a hotel so I asked him to recommend a place. Crib was nice and all but no aircon was installed as is the case in most East African homes. Can tell you I never had a good night’s sleep in 10 days I stayed there; neck ached all the time and dreams were weird too. Can’t remember many but in one I was with the ESPN crew. In that dream I bumped into Michael Wilbon, Pablo Torre, Israel Guitterez and Tony Reali at a restaurant. If you must know, they were pleasant and even got to ask Mr Wilbon how Tony Kornheiser was doing.
Haven’t done YouTube as part of something to give up for Lent so wondering how the likes of Stephen A. Smith are coping with no sports to report on. The guy must be going stir crazy in his mansion flipping through his thesauruses, or is it thesauri? Although I ceased YouTube views, WhatsApp videos have taken over my time and hoping to curb these too by skipping some and immediately deleting those I end up watching. One I saved, and keep going back to, is of a kid in Nigeria getting smacked by his mom ‘cos he spent time dancing instead of handing her the weave she requested from him while plaiting a girl’s hair. Amazing vid. Even while running yesterday morning I couldn’t help but crack up ‘cos it reminded me of all the smacks my mom used to give me as a kid. Speaking of, my sister Kemi’s almost pulling her hair out ‘cos mom’s stuck with her in the States due to Covid-19 restrictions. Better her than me. Hee hee.
Another thing I learnt about myself ‘cos of Covid-19 is I loooooove air conditioning! Case in point was rented accommodation in Nairobi. ‘Cos wasn’t sure of length of time Canadian visa application would take, mate suggested renting an apartment would be cheaper than a hotel so I asked him to recommend a place. Crib was nice and all but no aircon was installed as is the case in most East African homes. Can tell you I never had a good night’s sleep in 10 days I stayed there; neck ached all the time and dreams were weird too. Can’t remember many but in one I was with the ESPN crew. In that dream I bumped into Michael Wilbon, Pablo Torre, Israel Guitterez and Tony Reali at a restaurant. If you must know, they were pleasant and even got to ask Mr Wilbon how Tony Kornheiser was doing.
Haven’t done YouTube as part of something to give up for Lent so wondering how the likes of Stephen A. Smith are coping with no sports to report on. The guy must be going stir crazy in his mansion flipping through his thesauruses, or is it thesauri? Although I ceased YouTube views, WhatsApp videos have taken over my time and hoping to curb these too by skipping some and immediately deleting those I end up watching. One I saved, and keep going back to, is of a kid in Nigeria getting smacked by his mom ‘cos he spent time dancing instead of handing her the weave she requested from him while plaiting a girl’s hair. Amazing vid. Even while running yesterday morning I couldn’t help but crack up ‘cos it reminded me of all the smacks my mom used to give me as a kid. Speaking of, my sister Kemi’s almost pulling her hair out ‘cos mom’s stuck with her in the States due to Covid-19 restrictions. Better her than me. Hee hee.
Other sister Nike’s stuck in Nigeria for same reason after she
travelled from the UK ‘cos of the death of her mother-in-law. She was quite a
nice lady. I am gonna miss her. Her death was a result of cancer she had been
struggling with, a fight I had assumed she was winning. Now, most deaths one
hears of is from Covid-19. This ish has turned the world topsy-turvy. No one
quite knows what to do, except to reduce unnecessary trips, keep a “social
distance of 6 feet” and keep one’s hand clean. Tales of phantom cures persist and
still don’t get why people believe them. Kickboxing coach told me of folks in
Juba guzzling down hibiscus tea without sugar ‘cos they heard it keeps Covid-19
at bay. Indeed.
Covid-19’s affecting everything, man. Airport’s shut and restaurants can only offer take-out services. The local Chinese restaurant had no seafood and one’s gotta wonder where/how they sourced their “fresh” seafood in the past. I kid you not, whenever I visited before they actively touted the freshness of all their food, even though their menu’s as thick as a dictionary. Ordered sweet and sour pork but by time I got home what I tasted was sour and sour pork. Guess they ran outta “fresh” pineapples as well.
One thing Covid-19 hasn’t changed is my love for running. Even though Paris marathon was postponed to October and the Lewa marathon in Kenya was cancelled outright, I still do 10k runs at least 3ice a week. Why? Haven’t the foggiest idea. ‘Cos of focused running in preparation for marathon I skipped out on gym and went for the first time this year last week. Muscles had atrophied so much I strained to compete 10 chin-ups. Chin-ups used to be my thang, you know. I felt sad ‘cos of that and felt even sadder after I left the gym when I couldn’t find definitions of abs on stomach, even while squinting both eyes and sucking-in stomach. The other day I returned from running and ‘cos exercise top was tight – probably due to weight I had gained from all the ice cream – my stomach hair came out as waves when I took top off. It was so remarkable I even thought up weird ideas like a range of durags for stomach hair. I need to resolve this – the abs, not the durag business idea - before the month runs out.
Tot ziens and God bless.
Covid-19’s affecting everything, man. Airport’s shut and restaurants can only offer take-out services. The local Chinese restaurant had no seafood and one’s gotta wonder where/how they sourced their “fresh” seafood in the past. I kid you not, whenever I visited before they actively touted the freshness of all their food, even though their menu’s as thick as a dictionary. Ordered sweet and sour pork but by time I got home what I tasted was sour and sour pork. Guess they ran outta “fresh” pineapples as well.
One thing Covid-19 hasn’t changed is my love for running. Even though Paris marathon was postponed to October and the Lewa marathon in Kenya was cancelled outright, I still do 10k runs at least 3ice a week. Why? Haven’t the foggiest idea. ‘Cos of focused running in preparation for marathon I skipped out on gym and went for the first time this year last week. Muscles had atrophied so much I strained to compete 10 chin-ups. Chin-ups used to be my thang, you know. I felt sad ‘cos of that and felt even sadder after I left the gym when I couldn’t find definitions of abs on stomach, even while squinting both eyes and sucking-in stomach. The other day I returned from running and ‘cos exercise top was tight – probably due to weight I had gained from all the ice cream – my stomach hair came out as waves when I took top off. It was so remarkable I even thought up weird ideas like a range of durags for stomach hair. I need to resolve this – the abs, not the durag business idea - before the month runs out.
Tot ziens and God bless.
