We don’t even talk anymore; we don’t even know what we argue about…

Hola peeps.

Happy new year. Here’s wishing y’all the best and more this year.

Started 2023 all emo. On January 7^th I went to see Chief as he had asked me to come by the house, even though I had only recently seen him on the 2^nd. Told him it would be tough as I would be departing Lagos for Juba on the 8^th and usually use the eve of departure to run around and sort out last-minute stuff. He appealed that I grant him 1-2 hrs as he had urgent stuff to discuss with siblings and I; though, he insisted I arrive earlier than the others because there was stuff he specifically needed to tell me.

Wait, before I go on I gotta tell y’all amazing news. You know the “artistic” poop I described in last blog entry and how I mulled the possibilities of recreating it? Well, y’all won’t believe this, but I succeeded. Only this poop wasn’t as sturdy as the last one ‘cos it vanished after one flush. Now I am tempted to experiment further. Was the sturdiness affected by the angle it came outta butt, for instance? Does location matter? You see both poops were executed in my apartment in Juba. Could I replicate them at the office or in another country? Hmmm. Weird to say this, but pooping could be my ikigai.

 

I arrived at Beachland at 10am and immediately informed siblings. This was to ensure they’d show up early so Chief would have to quickly wrap up whatever conversation he had planned for me. Didn’t work ‘cos dude went around the world (and I, I, I) before he arrived at his points. Wasn’t a total waste as got to find out about a part of his life I wasn’t privy to before. Got frustrated though when he repeated same story after siblings gathered. With all siblings present, he went over his usual talking points, that is, estrangement from certain members of the family, as if there’s more we could do to bridge the peace, short of prayers.

 

During our one-on-one talk he concentrated on his grudges against me, namely, my refusal to follow his dictums regarding various matters and my mom. My father insisted I should sacrifice more for my mother, especially since I am generous with outsiders. I let him finish, then calmly refuted his claims. Explained that ‘cos I don’t tell him all I do for peeps, including my mom, doesn’t mean I don’t extend myself. Then, unexpectedly, feelings got the better of me and I started crying while recalling the disparaging conversations and WhatsApp messages mom had sent me last year. Told Chief how I had cried in Juba apartment after one of such messages in March, and how, after another set of messages in October I decided I would reduce exposure to her to the barest minimum. He had earlier mentioned my half-siblings’ efforts to acquire a replacement car for their mom, so I spilled the beans of how I had long paid for a car for mom from the US and why I left Nike and Kemi in charge of monitoring the progress of its freight to Nigeria.

 

Frustratingly, the tears kept coming no matter how hard I tried to stop them. I clenched eyelids tight in desperate attempt to shut tear ducts so didn’t see Chief’s expression, but I could tell he was shocked, having never seen me cry other than as an adolescent. Plus, the whole family has come to regard me as cold hearted, that I don’t deviate from a path I have chosen no matter what others say. Now, juxtapose that with the blubbering figure in Chief’s bedroom. Ha. Can’t blame the poor dude for being at a loss at what to do.

This is redolent of the time in 2011 when I learnt of mom’s near-fatal car accident. For some reason I couldn’t stop bawling, even after I discovered she was okay. Everyone was shocked that day as well, to the extent that years afterwards a distant friend brought it up. My crying bout had spread like an urban legend. At the rate I am going I might surpass the Crying Jordan meme soon in terms of virality.

As Chief and I spoke further - with my eyes still shut - I heard someone open the door to his study, so I dashed into his bathroom and cussed myself for being such a sissy. How was I gonna explain bloodshot eyes to my siblings? After spending a few minutes composing myself, I walked out to find Nike in Chief’s room and tried to make up a story about an upset stomach, but Chief had already conveyed to her what was going on in the brief time I was away. Typical Chief. That’s why no one tells him anything they want kept secret. Well, since the cat was outta the bag I told my dad he could now verify from Nike if all I said about mom wasn’t true. When Nike and Chief tried to comfort me with their own tales of woe in dealings with mom, the tear ducts opened again and flowed and flowed. Nike kept insisting, like a dime store Oprah, that I was crying ‘cos I had suppressed my feelings and mentioned how she’s always available if I needed to talk/vent. Erm, wrong! I usually inform her and Kemi anytime mom angers me and did so after the “final conversation” with mom detailed in last blog entry.

Eventually, I calmed down and made clear to them my stance hadn’t changed since that conversation with mom, where I insisted on keeping away from her. True to my word, I still send her weekly reminders of folks’ birthdays but that’s all. If she calls I pick up the phone, if I see a missed call from her I call back, but I don’t reach out to her on my own. When she sends irksome messages, I don’t respond. Works for me so far.

The same way Chief doesn’t know how to keep secrets is same way he doesn’t know when to let things be. True to form, later that day after I returned to my apartment, he asked if I was okay and advised me on best ways to “manage” mom. The next day he did the same before I boarded the plane to Nairobi, and again after I landed. The day after that when I arrived in Juba he again asked if I was okay and offered further advice on managing mom. You gotta love the dude.

 

The Xmas break was not all doom and gloom though. Time in Lagos was the most fun I have had in yonks. Maybe it’s ‘cos I had a friend from South Africa visit Nigeria for the first time, and so, I was a tour guide in a city I hardly reside in. As a result, I went out a lot and normal agoraphobia, well, let’s call it itsy bitsy anxiety, that I usually have in a club or social atmosphere was non-existent. So much so, I wouldn’t feel weird now to walk into a bar in a strange country and approach a total stranger. Also, stayed off nookie for entire time in Lagos, though had a few close shaves.

 

My nephew Zane visted Lagos as well, so hung with him a tad. First, at a wedding afterparty then later the same night at some old school music event. Every time a song he recognized came on he would smile and tell me he knew of it. I would jokingly say he was fibbing and ask my friends if they believed him. Was a swell time and he thanked me for a great night out after we got back home at 3am. Taught him some old school moves as well. And the award for Uncle of the Year goes to….

Dude’s 19 now and drinks alcohol. I recall the first time Nike went to see him at uni and saw beer cans in his room. In recounting her visit to me she said, “oh, he and his roommates don’t drink, they just collect beer cans”. As if. Man, parents have such blind spots when it comes to their kids, don’t they?

Organized a celebration for SA pal on her 35^th birthday. Invited a few friends and other folk she had met during her 10-day visit to Lagos. One of my secondary school mates came along with a guy I recognized but couldn’t quite place where from. He said the same about me. It took about an hour to clock that we had attended the same pre-marital classes back in 2011 (or was it 2010?) Cracked a bad joke about not paying attention during those classes and that’s probably why I am divorced. Dude said he was divorced too. Yikes. Hated to hear that. Good thing is he’s engaged to be married again. He asked if I would consider marriage again. I hemmed and hawed. He prodded further by questioning if I don’t get lonely or won’t desire a companion as I got older. Hemmed and hawed some more, cracked another bad joke, then made an excuse to end the convo.

 

At the aforementioned wedding party few days prior, in a sure sign the “Lynx effect” is still in, ahem, full effect, the host approached me to say some lady had asked if I was single as she would like my number. Didn’t bother asking who it was or what she looked like. Told him I was good, as I am now only into naturally blonde Asian women. Kidding about the last part, or am I? Chose to reject the hookup attempt not ‘cos I had SA pal with me – we are strictly friends – but ‘cos, well, what’s the point? It ain’t like I am gonna wanna pursue a long-distance relationship with mystery lady, seeing as I am already rejecting approaches from peeps in Juba with me and in nearby Kenya and Uganda. Looking like it’s EJ or bust, you know? Was hoping I’d bump into her over the Xmas holidays to tell her how I truly feel and explain that I only chose to stay away so as not to bug her. Loser, much?

 

Mom asked about EJ last September, a few days after younger sister Mama got re-married. She probably assumed that would prod me into revealing stuff to her. I stayed mum to my, ahem, mom. Hee hee. I kill myself. During the annual family Xmas lunch, it was Nike’s turn to enquire about her. Over rubbery shrimp cocktail, in a rare moment of seriousness - perhaps presaging my crying session a week later - she said, “You are like Chief, you seem to attract women easily. That doesn’t mean you should disrespect them though. Remember you have a daughter; how would you feel if some bloke treated her adversely?” I explained to her, while sipping Chapman, that I was raised better than to lie or disrespect women. Emphasized that EJ’s amazing and I was at fault for the demise of the relationship. Told her I’d gladly go back if she’d accept me but that’s not likely since we are not in contact.

 

Lately, I have been mulling ways to get her back. Reckon it would take some radical non-Tunde lackadaisical effort, you know? So far, all I have come up with is a mixtape. I am ageing myself here, ain’t I? In an alternate universe where mixtapes are still the ish my Sorry for Being A Knucklehead collection would have Tim McGraw’s Blank Sheet Of Paper, Shai’s The Place Where You Belong and Come With Me, Oxlade’s Ku Lo Sa, Babyface’s Never Keeping Secrets, and New Edition’s Something About You. Oh, there’s also gotta be a Barry White number in there and either or both of R.Kelly’s I Can’t Sleep Baby and If I Could Turn Back the Hands of Time. Of course, this is assuming the version of R.Kelly in this universe is squeaky clean. Ahem.

 

Maybe I’d do something drastic to drive me outta this relationship funk. Start wearing a stud in left ear again? Obtw, discovered piercing in left ear has closed up. This revelation came as I handed Zane one of my studs after I discovered he had pierced his ears. His mom had warned him against such an “irresponsible act”, but he countered by telling her I had a piercing and that didn’t stop me from excelling in my studies or career. Mic drop. And the second award for Uncle of the Year goes to….

 

If earrings don’t do it, maybe a hair transplant would? Visit to Istanbul last month made me yearn for one after I saw folk with bandages on the back of their heads walking unashamedly around the shopping districts. Man, rocking a man bun would really put a pep in my step right now. Imagine recreating boyband videos by stepping out of the pool with my hair down. Plus, I could swat Juba flies with it. A utilitarian investment, if there ever was one. Hee hee.

Need to end this blog soon so I can get some sleep as it’s currently 1135pm in London. Yup, I arrived here last Wednesday ahead of my daughter’s upcoming 11^th birthday. We caught the Matilda: The Musical movie two days ago and it was way better than I expected. Afterwards, my daughter made me carry her about in my arms even though she’s nearly as tall as me now. Not that I mind in the least. It’s refreshing to see that I have passed on my goofy behaviour to the next generation. Long may it continue.

 

We were supposed to meet up again next Saturday, but her mom has requested we move it forward by a day as my daughter’s planned an outing with her friends for Saturday. But her father, who’s only in the UK twice a year, travelled all the way from Africa to see her and she can’t choose him over her friends for one measly day?! This was after he battled wild animals and got on 3 planes just to see her! Tsk, tsk, tsk. I kid. Dumping parents for friends is the constitutional right of teenagers (and near-teenagers) the world over. Long may it continue.

 

By the way, I wasn’t kidding about battling wild animals though. 3ice a week in Juba, while psyching myself to get out of bed at 5am to go running I also psych myself to anticipate the adrenaline boost from avoiding static shocks and snarling dogs. Ever since the apartment was spiffed up previous bedsheets and duvet no longer fit the king-size mattress, so have had to make do with the cheap polyester numbers provided. Pros? There are no more boring nights as I could turn lights off and generate sparks just by rubbing feet against bed sheets and duvet. Cons? I forget to wear flip flops sometimes after getting outta bed and get zapped when I reach for laptop on beside table or attempt to turn on the light switch.

 

As for punk ass neighbourhood dogs that sneak away in the daytime, they get emboldened when its dark outside and gather in packs to snarl and bark as I walk past them at 530am on my way to go running. Efforts to shout them down don’t work. After nearly 8 years in Juba I have learnt the only trick that gets them scampering away is tossing a rock at them or simulating this by gesturing to bend down to pick up a rock and flicking one’s arm in their direction. Take note that ordinarily flicking arm in their direction, even if there’s an object in it, doesn’t rouse them. The whole sequence of bending down to feign picking the rock and tossing same must be applied to have any effect. Learned this from experience. Yup, my research skills are on point. First poop and now scaring off mangy dogs. And the final award for Researcher of the Year goes to….

 

Tot ziens and God bless.