My former favourite sports-related word was Repechage. My new favourite one? Remontada

Hola peeps. Y’all good?

I come to you a broken man. The back problem I mentioned in my last entry has kicked off again, and even worse, I have a painful friction burn on left arse cheek resulting from a misaligned underwear label while performing ab exercises during kickboxing class earlier today. Thus, I am sitting weirdly as I type this. See what I go through for you guys?

 

Btw, before the back injury was re-aggravated, it got progressively better. Though I think I may have happened upon a gem during the healing process: For guys forced to get up in the middle of the night to pee, get yourself some sort of injury that makes it challenging to get outta bed and voila, your body adjusts. At least that’s what happened to me. Wondering what I’d do to halt the gradual decline of my ability to read small print without getting glasses? Perhaps, get someone to punch me in one eye so the body compensates by making the other eye bionic?

 

I cannot believe it’s been over a month since I corresponded with y’all. I was supposed to type another entry on the plane to Naija for Nike’s 50^th, but stuff came up, as usual. Since that trip to Naija, I travelled to Kampala for the Easter break but haven’t left Juba since. Next trip is in less than 3 weeks when I will be heading to South Africa for the Comrades marathon, which has been officially announced as 89.98km. Oooh, thanks for being so considerate and not making it 90km. Those extra 20 meters woulda made it even harder on my feet. Just the thought of the Comrades is making me sweat, but I suppose I must since I received the visa last Tuesday and have already planned loadsa activities – like catching a BAL game in Pretoria - for the extra 5 days I will be spending in SA, post-Comrades.

 

‘Cos the race is coming up soon, I have had to keep running with the aching back. I plan to see Aminarrrgh the weekend before I travel to SA. Hopefully, the massage relaxes me better than last time, when I tried to pee during the pace and nada came out. The same thing happened when I felt nasty doodle pangs. Nerves, I suppose. Unfortunately, my Belarusian friend Liza is still unsure about running as the South African authorities have refused to issue her a visa, and she cannot reach anyone there for an explanation.

 

I was supposed to attend a conference in Dubai just after Easter, but as it turns out, though the Emirates airline has resumed flights to Nigeria, the Emiratis still aren’t keen to issue visas to Nigerians. The various means I tried weren’t fruitful, so I had to forfeit the exorbitant registration fee paid for the 2-day conference. Man, I got so upset I seriously considered signing up for citizenship from those Caribbean countries that guarantee visa-free entry to over 120 countries for the low, low price of a six-figure sum and a 9-month screening process. The company I contacted also sent me details on Uzbekistani citizenship. Ahan, e never reach that one na.

The sticker shock of the price got me thinking of jumping on a plane to Heathrow airport, where I’d abruptly set up a reality show to see who’d marry me for a British citizenship for a cash price of 5% of what the Caribbeans were gonna charge. It turns out that, like my Rent-a-driver idea from 2006 that preceded the launch of Uber, the smart alecs at the US Department of Homeland Security had already thought of something similar.

 

What else happened since my last blog entry? Hmmm…well, some familiar intrepid investigators in Juba have discovered this here blog. Thought about stopping or starting a new one, but I am too stuck in my ways to change. The good thang is I can defend whatever I publish here, so it is what it is. That said, if you don’t hear from me for a while, I may have just been abducted and tortured. I kid…..well….

 

Guess what? Paul the mother%$&ker is backkkk. W reached out to me outta the blue the Friday before I travelled to Naija. She wanted to catch up, so I invited her along while I was having a mini-pedi. I could tell she didn’t wanna talk about her relationship with Paul, so I didn’t bring it up. I was just glad to see she was okay. Fast-forward to the Naija trip, when W reaches out and I send her pics of Sandra and the crew painting Lagos all colours of the rainbow. Yes, Sandra tagged along for Nike’s birthday and chose to spend a few extra days in Naija to conclude her search for a Naija politician beau. On the morning of my departure, I received a WhatsApp message from W, “I told you not to talk to W”. Usually, I’da taken the bait and responded as I can’t stand bullies, but since W has chosen to go back to him, there’s nada I can do about it. Plus, there’s another popular Tunde in Juba, one even more extroverted than moi, so chances are Paul would get to him before me. Hee hee.

 

Back to Naija trip, Sandra and another mate, Timmie, chose to come with me from Juba, and since we flew through Entebbe, David joined us from there. WASMIL arrived in Lagos a few minutes before us as her flight was delayed getting outta Gatwick airport, so we rode to the apartment together. It was only 4 nights, but I was beat by the end due to hosting and ensuring everyone was okay. Some guests had such a blast that they mooted returning for Detty December. Well, I am glad they all made friends in Lagos ‘cos I ain’t gonna be there then. I’ll go to Ghana or somewhere. Nope, ain’t hosting again anytime soon.

 

Nike had a swell 50^th, and I have never seen her dance as much as she did at the night party. I tore up the dance floor as well, and so did Vicky. These days, poor Vicky keeps trying to find some sorta straw to grasp onto to improve our deteriorating relationship, going so far as to leave me 9-minute voice notes on WhatsApp. 9 whole minutes! When I sent her pics taken with my daughter last February, she remarked on how my eclectic fashion style was like hers. As if. Would Vicky ever wear a pair of baggy multicolored cotton dungarees that my daughter once called a “circus tent” and so-called mates referred to as a “Teletubby costume”? Exactly.

If she had said I got my dancing feet from her, then maybe I’da agreed. You’d have seen her at the party; Chief basically had to drag her home. She’d be/act all frail when walking from her seat to take pictures or head to the stage, but once music started, this same woman who thirty seconds before struggled to walk 10 feet would suddenly begin bending down so low I was sure she was about to attempt a split. Talk about a dual personality.

 

I feel I may also have a split personality, at least when I am asleep, ‘cos I noticed my back kicked in after falling asleep on the couch. The lats on my left side have been hurting for the past few days, and it’s probably ‘cos of how I slept. I mostly wake up with my shoulders aching, as I find that I must yet again separate my interlocked fingers from behind my head. It’s as if while sleeping I am doing star jumps or posing shirtless for a magazine shoot, a la Prince in his halcyon days. Again, ‘cos of the proximity to the Comrades marathon, I cannot take any days off to rest my back and shoulders.

 

What I can do, though, is go after my debtors. I dunno why I keep falling for sad stories ‘cos folk ain’t got no shame. On Thursday, I showed up at a guy’s office unannounced so the dude could tell me to my face why he hadn’t paid back the money I lent him. Dude came by my office last December to plead for a loan, as he said he had spent money that was erroneously paid into his bank account. When the sender discovered his mistake, they contacted the bank, which put them in touch with my debtor. Dude didn’t want the sender to alert his employers to his disingenuousness, so he sought my help to save him from a likely reprimand.

 

At the time, this dude promised to pay back the money by the end of March, and when I contacted him then, he said he meant April, not March. We both knew he was fibbing, but I told him I’d wait until the end of April. When I contacted him on the agreed date last month, he said, “wahala dey o”. I lost it. I was meant to give that money to someone travelling to Naija that day, and ‘cos of this punk I was forced to transfer Naira to them instead. He asked for another week to make good on his promise, but that was 3 weeks ago. When I showed up last Thursday, it wasn’t to cause a scene, as I don’t do that; it was to let the dude know I wasn’t above informing his employer about his dodgy antics. As soon as he saw me, he quickly ushered me aside, and, maybe due to the asperity of my tone, promised he would pay the money without fail tomorrow (Monday, May 19^th). We’ll see.

 

On Tuesday, May 20th, my case against IGI Ltd is set for judgment, following countless adjournments. These punks banked my premiums for 15 years, but when it came time for the payout after the expiration of the term period in 2021, they started coming up with all sorts of excuses. After they stopped responding to my emails and my visits to the HQ provided no headway, I decided to sue them. At this point, I wasn’t keen on the payout anymore; I had hoped that the threat of a suit would cause them to sit up, but it appears they are well-versed in the dilatory tactics embraced by the Nigerian judiciary system.

 

Sadly, I am experiencing the same frustrations with someone in Lagos; I lent them a substantial amount of money for a real estate venture. I didn’t ask for collateral ‘cos he’s a neighbour of a good friend and she vouched for him as a young man who required support. This is particularly upsetting ‘cos I’d have received more bang for my buck by fixing it with a commercial bank and reaping the interest. I was trying to do my bit to support the indigenous industry. Alas, it’s the same sad story of folk being grateful once you give them the money but start avoiding your calls when it is time to repay. A part of me wanted to damn the consequences and pay the Naija police to get him jailed, but it ain’t in me to subject anyone to jail conditions just ‘cos of a debt.

 

Now I am stuck with going through the slow grind of the Nigerian justice system to recoup my funds. It’s okay, I have learnt my lesson now. I’d rather spend the money on my street dogs ‘cos they are appreciative…...well, kinda. In the past few months, I have noticed that whenever I leave food out, one alpha dog (literally) snaps at the other dogs, and they shy away. Even after I had parceled out separate meals, and Alpha was busy with his portion, the other dogs were still too scared to touch their food. Once I return from South Africa, I plan to take the bullied dogs under my wing and train them to assert themselves and challenge Alpha. I can already picture the Disney movie about my life with a training montage like one of my all-time faves, Rocky IV.

 

Tot ziens and God bless.

PS
I just happened on an idea for an AI app that would help people decide who’s credible enough to lend money to. I plan to call it Intuition.