My money don’t jiggle jiggle, it glows in the dark
Hola peeps.
I won’t bother apologizing anymore for my tardiness in not keeping y’all
updated. Let’s just say I put the pro in procrastination. I am such an
expert at it I believe I could medal if it’s made an Olympic sport. That and
pooping. Nevertheless, I am doing my utmost to ensure I get out of this funk
asap. I just need to learn to prioritize more and shut out all the
distractions. Every time I would wanna write something I’d think about the huge
backlog of work emails and concentrate on those instead. Well, not today. I
promise to try to make this post orderly and not flood y’all with all the
goings-on over the past 5 months.
Where
to start? So many topics and only ten fingers. Bummer. I could tell y’all about
my most recent birthday and how I went bungee jumping in Soweto to celebrate. A
mate reckons it’s midlife crisis and I agree. But what an exhilarating crisis.
Then there’s the plot twist that’s my relationship status. Oh, oh let’s not
forget relationship with family. Hmmm. Current rent-free tenant in head is
mom’s car. Yes, that’s a good place to start.
Firstly,
I gotta tell y’all about a poop I just had. If pooping was truly an Olympic sport
I’d like to think they would award points for artistic endeavours. If that’s the case my recent poop would come
tops. Ever told y’all of the poop I had that was so forceful it popped out with
such intensity it went straight into the sewage pit without my needing to flush?
If it wasn’t for the smears at the bottom of the bog on its way into the sewage
there wouldn’t have been any evidence I pooped. Today’s poop was just as
compelling. It came out whole, looking like an upright tree trunk with roots fixed
to the bottom of the bog. Two flushes and a 30 second sustained attack by the
bidet hose didn’t budge it. I left it in the bog to simmer(?) after pouring
boiling hot water around its roots base and went to the gym. Returned 2
hours later and dabbed the poop with some holy water before attempting another
flush. Success!!!! I am gonna miss that poop. A part of me’s tempted to see if
I can replicate it. Wait, what did I have for lunch again? There’s peas, two
pieces of Nile perch, roasted plantain and sweet potato. All pulled from the fridge
at same time and heated in the microwave at low power for 4 minutes. Hmmm.
Okay, back to our regular scheduled blog entry….
I run a
somewhat chaotic outfit in South Sudan with over 40 employees and through it all
I have been applauded for taking on obstacles with equanimity and never losing
temper. Yet, when it comes to my mom it just gets to….arrrgghhh. Remember now
and then I tell y’all she embodies that lyric from Prince’s When Doves Cry about
his mom never being satisfied? Nada’s changed. I saw the Netflix Kanye West
documentary jeen-yuhs earlier this year and couldn’t but marvel at the
relationship between mother and son. The total belief Mrs West had in her son
was amazing to behold. Okay maybe her egging him on is what led to the punk we
have now, but still I woulda loved a dollop of that encouragement growing up.
In October last year after birthday shindig at the Lagos apartment, EJ and
I lay on the couch and while whispering sweet nothings to her she turned all
serious and commented about my attitude towards my mom. “Babe, I saw a
different side of you today when your mom came around. You are always so happy-go-lucky,
and I don’t think I have ever seen you mad. But with your mom I could see
detest in your face. Honestly, it was like you couldn’t stand to be around her.
You’ve always told me y’all don’t get along even though you are her only son,
but I never thought it was this bad. You need to work on this. It ain’t good.” I
couldn’t even offer a witty riposte, as is my metier. I told her I didn’t know
my feelings were literally etched on my face and felt a smidgen of regret that
my mom coulda seen that. I promised to work at it and so I started saying a
li’l prayer before reading her WhatsApp messages or whenever I saw her incoming
call on phone.
Dragooning
self to be nice to her on the phone, and outright avoidance, worked for a while
until earlier this year when she requested a favour and misconstrued my
response. She went all out and spewed venomous rant after venomous rant. I,
then a 45-year-old expat in charge of a company with 40+ staff of 5
nationalities, found myself sobbing as I read her message. Can’t remember the
last time I sobbed before that but there I was bawling my eyes out wondering
what I could ever do to please Victoria. Forwarded her message to my sisters
and begged them to ask her not to contact me ‘cos didn’t wanna say/type stuff I
would regret. Did that stop her? You don’t know her well then. She bombarded me
with messages apologizing and promising to do better. Her go-to line from my
childhood was resurrected, ”…that was the old Vicky, I don’t do that
anymore..” I did not respond. She persisted, calling, and sending Bible
passages littered with messages. Still, I did not respond. After about 2 weeks
of this going on her messages started getting hostile. “Ahan, what’s wrong
with you? I know you read your Bible. Is what you are doing right? I apologized,
didn’t I? I am your mother after all. Shouldn’t I be allowed to say my piece?” I
only reached out after my sister Nike told me she had been hospitalized after a
bout of food poisoning. The rapprochement lasted from March until last month.
Two
weeks ago, she approached me for assistance on replacing some parts on her car.
Was facing some headwinds at work at the time so my response was not as swift
as usual. When I did call her, I explained I did not have the funds to cover
everything and would pay half the amount requested. A couple of days go by, I
call her and seek her permission to put Nike on the phone as well. Nike was
busy at the time so I told mom I would ring her back. A long-forgotten
investment was about to be paid up and plan was to push some of the funds into
getting mom a replacement car. Wanted to have Nike on the call so that she
would take responsibility for getting the car – being in Nigeria and all with
mom – and I would only be called upon for payment. I chose to take this
approach ‘cos 2 years ago I committed a tidy sum towards refurbishing mom’s car,
and as reward for this I was called upon any time stuff went wrong with the
car, even after the warranty I negotiated with the garage ran out. It was time
another of Vicky’s kids took on that headache.
Mom
called me two days after the botched call with Nike and I could not respond
immediately due to aforementioned work issues. Later that day, I glanced at
phone to find a barrage of messages accusing me of everything under the sun, in
particular a malicious propensity for making her jump through hoops whenever
she requests a favour. She suggested I keep the pittance I intended to pay
towards fixing her car as she would rather do without. I was boiling. I picked
up the phone, without saying the perfunctory prayer, and as I was telling her I
would gladly keep my money she cut me off and went all in on me. I heard of
things I had done since childhood, how I never loved her, etc. Vicky was
playing her greatest hits that day. After 5-10 mins of her going on and on the
line cut off and I haven’t called her since. She went back to her
tried-and-tested modus operandi of phone calls, message apologies, guilt trips,
and Bible passages, but I had had enough. On Thursday the 27th of
October, a day that shall live in infamy (hee hee), I prayed and called
my mother. I spoke calmly and told her the Bible instructs me to honour my
parents but also admonishes parents against exasperating their children. Told
her I loved her, but I have come to terms with knowing I could never please her
and so needed to keep my distance to prevent my saying stuff we would both
regret. To reduce communication between us I informed her I would source funds
to pay her monthly allowance as a one-off lumpsum at the start of next year. Informed
her she’s free to contact me if there’s an emergency, but other than that I saw
no reason for further phone conversations between us. Didn’t tell her of plans
to get her a new car. She apologized and promised to do better. Said Chief had
always warned her about her outbursts any time she gets emotional. I didn’t
budge. Made my excuses and got off the phone.
Contacted Nike and other sister Kemi, told them of my decision and about the
car. Suggested they search for cars and contact me when money needs to change
hands. In a sure sign I still have love for my mom I have done more searching than
they have. Nevertheless, it’s been a week since my last call with mom and I
feel at peace. Kinda reminds me of last serious conversation with ex when we
were married. Every time we argued she’d go to her parents, and I’d be the one
always going over to plead with her to return home. Well, this embarrassing
trait went on several times and finally told her if she ever left again, I
would never come looking for her. Well, y’all can guess what happened. It’s
been over 9 years and, apart from the time away from my daughter, I have no
regrets.
Speaking
of, saw my daughter in August and she had grownnnn since February. She’s bound
to be taller than me in 1-2 years. Scary. Even though she’s a big girl now she
still insisted on my giving her a piggy-back and a dad’s gotta oblige her,
right? I dunno if it’s ‘cos of issue with mom but last month I found myself
listening to my fave father-daughter song while picking out a suit for the
office and crying for a good 30 seconds. I recall hearing Clark Richard's Red Robin around the time my daughter was born 10 years ago and immediately latching onto
its lyrics. Feel that’s the kinda relationship mom would love to have with her
only son but it’s too late now. I really feel for her at times and wish we
could be closer but c’est la vie. I almost forgot to tell y’all how my
UK trip in August was meant to coincide with mom’s travel plans. Unlike when it
was Chief’s turn and I’d eagerly moved around schedule so he’d have someone to help
him around the house, I knew then for sure I didn’t like mom ‘cos I was doing
everything to avoid being in the UK at the same time with her. Okay enough
about mom.
Back to
my daughter, I had a swell time as usual with her and feel she’s coming into
her own as a “human”. By that I mean conversations between us now have some
heft. Last year for instance, she questioned why she’s an only kid. Uh oh. I
looked at her mom for help, but she turned her face away and I knew she must be
facing similar questions daily. I tried to crack a joke, but she insisted on a
serious answer. Good thing it was our turn to buy movie tickets so I bought
loadsa snacks to keep her occupied so I could avoid responding to her query.
Something similar happened during August visit, where I found myself running
around Nike stores in London to get her a pair of 120 quid sneakers she
would likely outgrow in a year’s time. Reckon I feel guilty at being away
from her so much I make up for it with expensive gifts.
I
noticed a small gap between her two top front teeth, similar to mine, during our last
hebdomadal Facetime. I remember her sleeping habits as a baby where she’d stand
upright on the bed in middle of the night and I’d have to lay her back down.
Did she get that from me as well? My movements in bed have always been weird.
For past couple of years, I noticed I wake up with hurting shoulders ‘cos of
way I sleep. I wake up to find hands over my head almost like I am in an
S&M event or an extra in Madonna’s Vogue video. Thus, I have taken
to tucking hands in PJ pants while in bed to prevent this. Not sure it’s
worked yet; in fact, I reckon it’s getting worse. My movements are almost like
I am trying to interpret dreams to a bystander through the magical powers of
dance or trying to broadcast my dreams to a mute person through sign language.
Or, just humour me here for a minute, could hand movements while in deep sleep
be an attempt to touch part of back I can’t reach in real life, akin to how one
can extend knees in a swimming pool without feeling as much pain as when
outside in plain air?
The other night I dreamt I met the real Bruce Lee struggling in Thailand. Dude
had faked his own death and I only discovered his identity by happenstance after being invited for a meal by a lady who turned out to Bruce’s Thai wife. Was so distraught
at seeing a global icon down on his luck I set about introducing him to
Nollywood guys to revive his career…then I woke up. Between these weird dreams,
since I resumed intermittent-fasting, and interpretations of my sleep movements
I swear there’s enough content to build a Netflix show around.
Juba’s the same and though it’s obvious the town is expanding as evinced from
the new developments and increasing traffic, you gotta still love how innocent
and laugh-out-loud things creep up on you. The other day I was at the bank and
a staff who I thought knew me well enough enquired if my sleeve holder armbands
were juju. Later that week some guy I hadn’t seen in a while came up to
me and said, “My brother you are lost. I saw you running on Friday, and I
called you, but you passed away”.
What remains annoyingly unchanged are the traffic police who never saw a
foreigner they didn’t make their votive ambition to harass. The guys in the US
have DWB (Driving While Black), we have DWF (Driving While Foreign). Because
their pay is so low I don’t mind giving out some money here and there, but I
draw the line at being hassled. My documents are always on point and so last
Monday morning when I was pulled aside, I expected for documents to be checked,
if at all, and then an appeal for “something for breakfast”. Instead, this dude checks everything and
proceeds to ask me to turn on the water squirt thingy for the windscreen that
prompts the wipers to activate for 1-2 seconds. I do that, and he asks to do
same for the wiper at the back screen. I explain the car wasn’t fitted with one
and offered him a chance to try himself. He kept insisting the car had that
function and I had removed it, like who in their right mind would do that. He
then requested I turn on the lights that illuminate the license plates at the
back of the vehicle. Again, I explained the car wasn’t equipped that way and
suggested he activate it himself since he knew more about the vehicle than the
manufacturers. Back and forth we went, and I still refused to offer him
anything. If this wasn’t South Sudan, I coulda sworn I was on a hidden camera
show. He finally got tired of my shtick after 20 minutes and let me go. Punk.
Already
counting down to Christmas in Lagos as gonna be playing host to some friends
from South Africa. You know the wedding I attended in Lesotho in March? Yup, the
couple’s coming over, as well as a girl I met at the wedding and her friend from
my birthday weekend in Johannesburg last month. That means I am gonna be
sleeping on the couch or an air mattress. No biggie anyway since I have fallen
asleep on that couch numerous times watching TV. Before Christmas though,
I plan to spend the US Thanksgiving holiday in Uganda, and a week later travel
to Turkey for “work”. I’ll leave it at that.
Started
running more often and did my first half marathon last Saturday. The route
turned out to be just under 19km instead of 21.1km but I am still counting it
as a plus. It was easy running as a pack but as soon as we started breaking out
it became harder not to get in my head. Since part of the route was where I run
past 3x a week I kept trying to distract myself from thinking too much. I
believe that’s the stuff I gotta overcome ahead of the Paris marathon in
April 2023. Kickboxing and calisthenics classes are going okay. Though I
skipped out on kickboxing class this morning as I fancied a lie-in. I will make
up for it tomorrow. Same for calisthenics class ‘cos I had to cancel Thursday’s
class due to workload.
I
haven’t slacked off on the sporting activities mainly to stay in shape and to
keep me away from trouble. Usually, after a relationship ends, try as I may I
always end up going through a “ho phase”. I’ll leave it at that. Well, it’s a
bit more complicated, cos though length of typical ho phase has now reduced the
opposite sex tend to know when one is single. Despite declaring my “never
getting married or having kids stance” as soon as our first hangout, they tend
to wanna take up the challenge of changing my mind. In all honesty, I have done
okay lately by keeping myself away from nookie, even when women visit my
apartment. I sincerely feel I could fully commit to marriage now if I wanted to
and my fears of cheating would not materialize.
I
wasn’t gonna tell y’all this, but earlier this year I contacted EJ and
asked her to marry me. Of course, the smart girl didn’t budge. One ends a
relationship because he’s afraid to fully commit and after zero contact in 7
months reaches out with a marriage proposal?! If I were in her shoes I’d do the
same. She’s hella amazing and though I know I have lost her for good I have no
qualms about it. The main reason I couldn’t commit to her last year was I wasn’t
ready. It took a close pal dying for me to ask myself what I was so scared
about anyway. It’s only one life, right? Why not take a leap of faith with
someone as amazing at EJ? So, instead of trying to worm my way back into
her life I called her out of the blue and asked if she’d still wanna marry me.
Ha. Loser!
Still,
she was gracious enough to meet up for drinks in Lagos back in August. As had
only few hours before I was to catch a plane to the UK I promised to contact
her again on my return. It felt uber weird trying to restart conversations with
her and honestly felt she was only being accommodating to be polite, so I
backed off. Last thing I wanna do is end up being a Kanye-type stalker of an
ex, yes, even one as amazing as EJ. In the meantime, I am here being platonic
with women and rejecting their attempts at a relationship. Two months ago, I
even had to invent a girlfriend just to push one away. The chick’s taken that
as a challenge instead. Damn this Lynx body spray!!!! She thinks she’s smart
too by conveniently “forgetting” stuff so she has an excuse to return. I mean
who do you know takes off their earrings before eating pizza? I ain’t buying
the whole “I love to be comfortable when eating” line Shiela, I ain’t buying it.
Tot
ziens and God bless.
