Detriments of Being a Damn Good Listener

Communication is very important. Human existence is based in and around communication with other people, with your environment with yourself and so on and so forth. I wasn’t always a good communicator (is that a real word?) I have and always been a good speaker and I would actually count that as one of my top five strengths. But I used to suck at actually communicating with people. I was such a narcisstic, attention-seeking, over-pampered brat that I never stopped to consider the fact that loving the sound of my voice wasn’t enough. I actually had to listen to other people as well!

Since my AIESEC days, I am now a narcissistic, attention-seeking over pampered adult that listens a bit more to what other people are saying. And I discovered that the more you listen to other people, the more they are willing to listen to you in return! Works for everyone all round.

Towards the tail-end of my employment with AIESEC in Sweden, while we were preparing the team taking over from us, Maria one of my team mates came up with an exercise that served to demonstrate how group dynamics were influenced by how comfortable members of the group felt with each other.

I got to record how many times each member of the group directed a question/comment/statement to the other members of the group. Some individuals directed general comments to well… the general group. Others directed every single statement and/or question to only one other person. Even though it was supposed to be a group discussion. There was a particular individual who had the tendency to interrupt others and wouldn’t let them finish what they were going to say. By the end of the session, no one was directing their views to him and actually pointedly ignoring him.

Even since before that exercise, I have been a bit sensitive to how those dynamics work out in any group discussion or meeting I am having. I make sure I am including everyone in general statements or questions and when I am asking a specific question of someone, I turn and give that person my seeming full attention while still indicating that I expect his/her answer to be directed at the whole group. Of course this has made me an excellent facilitator of discussions (if I do say so myself) and I would go so far as to say that the added force of my personality would have made it inevitable that I would command attention anyway. (its feel-good day!)

So anyway, I find that a lot of presenters in the tons of presentations I am obliged to attend at work seem to focus on me while giving their presentations, especially those who are new at it. I have been known to crack a joke or ask an easy or obvious question to put them at their ease. So yes you might argue that I am a very good listener.

This however backfired on my in very spectacular style recently. It was a Friday and only God Almighty knows why I volunteered to go on behalf of my team and get some updates on some new software HR was rolling out. The presentation started at 3pm when thoughts are already in the pub and it was only a matter of time before the body joined.

The presenter was obviously very new at speaking before a crowd so I asked an easy question, gave a couple of audible affirmative answers when she asked if we were following and generally put her at her ease. Now, she wasn’t doing that bad a job of it in reality but it was just the time of day, the day itself and I was very tired but I unfortunately went on auto-pilot, zoned out and followed my imagination to somewhere completely different from where my physical body was.

This was why I jerked back to the meeting room with a dramatic start at the sound of my name and to very loud laughter from everybody in the room. At first I feigned laughter assuming the presenter had said something funny but when I looked at her amused smile I started to suspect that perhaps the joke was on me…

“So do you agree Ladi” she asked me. I slowly and desperately tried to recall the last few sentences (and slides) hoping I could decipher what her question to me was. “Uhm… ehrm… it depends” I said, still flailing about wildly in my mind for what the original question was. “oh really! What does it depend on?” she asked very sweetly seemingly determined not to let me off the hook!

“Well… you see… the thing is… would you repeat the question?”. I said, finally giving up. Some of my colleagues were rolling on the floor by this time and an otherwise dull session had turned into one very merry laugh-fest. At my expense!

Apparently, the presenter asked me the question twice already and I had just given her my auto-pilot smile and nodded stupidly at her until she called my name and broke my reverie. Mortified does not begin to describe my feelings. And all this because I proved I was a good listener and tried to put the faci at ease!

Ah well… next time I will only go on semi-auto pilot!

From Eagle to Kiwi

I introduced Seun and Christine in a previous post and commented on how much adjustment you make when you commit to a relationship with someone else. Even if you are from the same provincial town and grew up as childhood friends, making the jump from single with no responsibility to shared destiny is difficult enough as it is. Never mind if the individuals happen to come from different countries and cultures!

This is the position in which my good friend Sean has found himself. On July 12, 2008 he made the commitment before God, Man and the Church to spend the rest of his days with the former Ms. Christine Cole of Auckland NZ. But if their wedding day was anything to go by, they have certainly made an auspicious start!

Seun arrived here in New Zealand some 6 years ago as an IT student and has fallen in love with the country so much he has even chosen one of the ‘locals’ as his life-mate. I had the singular honor of being his best-man on his wedding day. Seun and I went to High school together yonkers ago, lost touch and met up again when I arrived here 2 years ago. (has it been that long already?!)

The run up to his wedding was quite interesting. Because even here the difference in cultures created a few challenges. The basic premise is the same if you are a Nigerian Christian. The church service is conducted with a bridal train and dressed in western style clothing. The activity after the church service is where it diverges quite a bit. Western Style weddings usually have a cocktail for a large number of people where there is finger food, non-alcoholic drinks and a lot of small talk among guests. This is followed by a more formal meal or reception where the number of guests are smaller and is strictly by invitation.

A Nigerian wedding reception on the other hand is bit more… boisterous. You still hand out invitations and all but suffice to say… no one will be checking your invitation card at the door. And where one does not even get a formal invitation, a verbal one will suffice and gives you license to bring 2 or 3 friends along. I am imagining all the weddings I have attended in Nigeria and the word that comes to mind as a description is... Carnivale!

A wedding in Nigeria is an opportunity for singing, dancing and lots and lots of food. In a society obsessed with materialism, a wedding is also an opportunity to showcase how important you are in society. Especially with the political elite a lot of couples have to deal with their supposedly happiest day turning into a tool for their parents to court political favour…

But I digress…

Sean and Christine had to balance a lot of expectations. The small but boisterous Nigerian community in Auckland was all but ready to turn this into a carnival… which would have been, quite frankly a bit too much for some of Christine’s guests to bear! So they came to what I think was a wonderful compromise by having a quick lunch after the service for close family and friends (which still numbered about 60 guests) and then we had a much more relaxed and informal reception proper “Naija” style! Cue dancing, singing, lots to eat and yours truly as Master of Ceremonies. There were still the speeches in between the songs and dances but like I said it was a bit more informal and certainly more enjoyable. All the non-Nigerian guests certainly thought so too!

The couple also changed from the western style Tuxedo and Wedding Gown to traditional Yoruba clothes complete with ‘gele’ for the bride and ‘agbada’ for the groom. The danced in to the sonorous tunes from the vocal chords of a Nigerian student who plays the piano exquisitely and had been flown in from the South of the country specifically for the event. Seun’s big sister was the only member of his immediate family who was able to make it to the wedding and there were a few tears when she read a letter from the groom’s dad to the bride’s parents.

The catering was done by a Nigerian lady and although the menu read like a continental lunch menu, there was a decidedly African flavour to the food. And it must have been a good flavour as the food was devoured until the very last morsel!

The national Football team of Nigeria is known as the Super Eagles. The eagle is also a part of the Nigerian seal and coat of arms. New Zealanders however are known as Kiwis. The Kiwi ia a flightless bird that is near extinction and is local to these twin islands known as Aotearoa (Land of the Long White Cloud). The bride’s father welcomed Sean to the family officially during his speech and seeing as my friend also got NZ permanent residency recently, it seems he has seen fit to plant his roots squarely in this unspoiled natural beauty of a land.

As I said during MY toast to the couple, May all Seun’s and Christine’s joy be true joy and may all their pain be champagne! (It sounds much better when I say it)

PS

I don’t have pictures of the wedding just yet but will upload them as soon I get them

So Far and Yet still so short

Indiscipline. The Bane of my existence.

The theory of the four temperaments is one of my favourite for determining why people act the way they do. And Tim LaHaye the best-selling co-author of the Left Behind series wrote an absolutely fantastic book called exactly that: Why We Act The Way We Do. Anyone familiar with this theory will recognize the personality types of Rocky Choleric, Sparky Sanguine, Martin Melancholy and Phil Phlegmatic.

The theory posits that everyone is born with a pre-determined set of characteristics and personality traits that basically influences how they think, act and interact with other people. Outside influences such as upbringing, society and life’s experiences only serve to highlight or de-emphasize these characteristics.

The theory points to why siblings exposed to virtually the same home environment and experiences develop completely different individual personalities. The following descriptions are mine and serve to give an idea of the different scopes of each personality type:

Rockey Choleric – Arrogant, born leader. The end justifies the means, gets the job done
Sparky Sanguine – Happy-go-lucky undisciplined. Wants everybody AT ALL times to be happy.
Mel Melancholy – Sensitive, artistic, perfectionist. Planner par excellence
Phil Phlegmatic – Languid, no worries, the less stress the better. Just wants to be left alone.

No prizes for guessing where I fall in.

Obviously, the above are extremely simplified descriptions. Like I said a whole library of literature exists on this theory and if you want to read up on it, then click on the link above and take it from there.

No one is made up of ONLY one temperament according to LaHaye's theory. There are 16 distinct sub types made up pairing the 4 main ones together. People have a dominant one and then a secondary in varying degrees. 90/10, 80/20 and sometimes 55/45. Some individuals even manage to combine three or even all four temperament traits!

The first time I heard about this theory, I asked the person explaining it to me which he thought was my secondary temperament. This person had only seen me facilitating an AIESEC conference and within the framework of contributing to the development of mankind’s potential yaddi yaddi yadda...!

...and he said I was so thoroughly sanguine and exemplified the pure temperament traits of Sparky that it was hard for him to determine what my secondary temperament was! I of course devoured the positive attributes of the sanguine and couldnt disagree at all!

light hearted, fun loving, a people person, loves to entertain, spontaneous and confident.

Yep! Thats me all right!

However looking at the weaknesses of this personality trait definitely put a dampener on events.

Weak willed, undisciplined and unproductive at times, disorganized and seldom plan ahead.

Weakness number two is the one that is a show-stopper! I know what to do, I know how to do it, I know what it takes but to actually forgo that extra 4 hours of sleep (on top of the 6 I already got) is just sooooooooooo hard! Feelings and emotions are a huge prod to the sanguine rather than reflective thought. SO if there is a sufficient amount of emotional stimulus to be gained from the activity you betcha I will do what needs to be done!

Waking up to a job he absolutely loves is a sure-fire way to get the sanguine up in the morning. A job that offers various scopes of activity like say... Computer game graphic artist or comic-book storyboard editor or even a bit more boring, sales. Any occupation that offers the sanguine variety and experiences to stimulate his emotional centre is the one for him!

Okay I am not bad as I used to be of course. Setting priorities, forgoing brief and short-term pleasures and (shock and horror!) setting a long-term plan are pretty much par for the course these days. The only problem is that the goal-posts seem to be moving quite a lot these days again. Every aspiring writer knows for example the importance of ehrm... writing. Have I been doing so? Look at the date of my last post.

Have I been THAT busy at work? Not at all! I am earning my pay at the milk company no doubt but snowed under? Hardly!

Has there been a lack of incidents and things to write about? Of course not! I am living in the Land of the Long White Cloud and everyday is a freaking adventure!

SO why is it the hardest thing sometimes to sit down and put pen to paper? (In a manner of speaking) Ah Well... I guess thats life. As long as I recognize that there is always improvement to be made and I actually do improve thats the most important thing. I guess the day will never come that I can say, "there you go... I am no longer undisciplined" but as long as I can say I am much better than I used to be... thats the most important thing!

A big hug, kiss and warm appreciation to ex-iyawo from UI, Buki. Your email stimulated that emotional centre I was talking about and got me to dust off this blog space again. It wont be a post per month as it has been for the last 3 months!!!

At the Fair Ground for Farmers

This is going to be a short post.

I hate it when I go to the Nomadlife website and see my blog waaaaaaaay down the list of blogs. The blogs are listed according to most recently updated you see. Anyway... I thought I would put it at the top of the list (at least for a few minutes) with a picture from an agricultural fair that I attended on behalf of my Business Unit.

It was a fair for farmers who in case you dont know collectively own the biggest company in New Zealand. A cooperative that contributes... wait for it... 7% of total GDP of the New Zealand economy. Add to this fact that the farmers got a payout that ran into billions of dollars and you can imagine that the participants at the fair went to town trying to convince the farmers to part with some of that cash!

When Was the Last time You cried?

I haven’t cried in 7 years.

The Manager of my Business Unit left the company today and a female colleague was asking if I shed a tear for him. A number of people were after one of his closest friends wrote a poem and couldn’t get through reading it as she collapsed in a sea of tears.

First off… the question caught me unawares. Why would I cry that my boss’s boss’s boss (boss X3) was leaving the company??? The ones who cried were mostly female and had built up my BU from scratch with this guy into a world class centre of 130 people. They had a lot of memories, and experiences and had worked with him in good times and bad over the last 4 years. Me I only saw him when he went by my desk and made an off-the-cuff comment. (He was a bit of a wise-ass)

We went into the question of when was the last time I had a good cry. With heaving shoulders, audible bawls, free-flowing tears and puffy swollen eyes.

Not since 2001.

I had just quit school, was feeling like a failure and like I had let my parents down and I commenced to have a big fight with my brother which was witnessed by my parents. It wasn’t a physical fight but a loud shouting match which only didn’t become physical due to my brother’s restraint. My mom was understandably very upset and when I went to apologize to her later for making her listen to the nasty things I said, the sight of her frustration and her concern that my brother and I were mortal enemies for life just pushed me over the top. Weeks and weeks of self recrimination and guilt and a sense of letting everyone down came to the boil and I had a really really good cry!

It was soul-cleansing.

But since then… I haven’t had cause or reason for such. I asked my manager when the last time SHE cried was and she said just this morning. She was watching an advert about some crippled donkey and she just teared up right there and then. My colleague who asked the original question is from the UK and apparently she has a good cry when she misses her family too much. What’s that about? When I am missing my friends and family, I immediately seek out my new friends here and throw around a few jokes wherein I immediately feel better. Or I just play World Of Warcraft.

I am more apt to go around snarling and growling at people when I am depressed and feel like shit! This doesn’t happen very often anyway. Being a consummate performer at all times, all I need is an audience (of one if necessary) and I am back to my usual good spirits. Now that I think of it seven years is a very long time, more than overdue to have another soul-cleansing cry.

Movies seem to be a good primer for turning on the tear ducts.

I will admit to tearing up at certain movies but the worst is I will have unshed tears glistening in my eyes. Tears that don’t even drop. This doesn’t qualify as a cry I don’t think. But it does prove that I am not a Neanderthal and do have the capacity to be sensitive yes? One movie I ALWAYS tear up at is Con Air starring Nicholas Cage. The end of the movie when he is reunited with his wife and daughter whom he has never seen before and suddenly transforms from the gung-ho Army Ranger who saves the day into this stammering, bumbling father who is just trying to make a good impression with a daughter he has never seen before. Breaks my heart EVERY single time.

Actually now that I think about it, any scene that involves a parent with their offspring in an emotional situation is almost guaranteed to make me acquire glistening eyes heavy with unshed tears. In the new Iron Man movie when he saves the father from being taken away in the Afghan village or the old Jon Voight boxing movie “Champ” where he dies at the end and the little boy is heart-broken and keeps crying out his name, “Champ… Champ… wake up Champ”.

I should see that movie again.

First time in 16 years...

I was convinced Hilary Clinton was going to become President of the United States.

I was convinced of this even when Obama was racking up victories right left and centre and gaining a lead in delegates. My conviction did not waver when every endorsement that was announced seemed to be going the way of Barack Obama. I was still sure even when it was announced that Hilary’s campaign was in financial problems and she had to lend it 5m dollars. I was sure I was seeing the pre-cursor to a ‘game-changer’ during the last 3 weeks of Obama’s pastor and his comments on bitter voters.

I devoured reports, articles and analysis online that sought to project how Hilary Clinton could still win the Democratic nomination and I came to the conclusion that her best chance was to win the primaries in Indiana and North Carolina. A decent win in Indiana and even a squeaky one in NC would have sufficed. She didn’t do this. She lost in NC by a good margin and squeaked a 2point win in Indiana.

Lights Out. The End. Finito. Endgame.

It was always going to be hard to overturn a black candidate who had the lead in pledged delegates and popular vote. And if the voters haven’t deemed him unelectable after the last month he’s had, none of the supers would dare do it now.

I am not an American. I have not and will never vote in an American election. But hearing me and some of my Nigerian friends in New Zealand argue about the current campaign you would think we were crafting Hilary’s and Barack’s speeches and setting the tone for their individual campaigns. (I am the only Hilary supporter by the way in a group of maybe 7). Having no direct stake in this election I still cannot quite shake this feeling of disappointment I feel. It’s never easy when someone you support falls short. I was supporting Hilary from an intellectual point of view, believing she would make the better President out of the three remaining candidates.

Now IF I AM feeling disappointed, how must the ardent American supporter feel, her campaign team? How must Hilary herself feel? And yet this is a staple of a democratic contest. Someone MUST lose. And after investing so much of your time, energy, money and commitment that feeling that the majority of people don’t support you must be crushing.

And yet America has been doing this for the better part of almost 300 years.

There have always been losers and winners’, perfecting the process so losing isn’t so debilitating and instead you learn from your mistakes and focus on the next election. Al Gore took his loss in 2000 a bit badly at first but then rebounded up out of it to become THE senior figure in his party (bar Bill 42) and win an Oscar for his new found love of the environment. He could have taken his appeal even further than he did but by then it wasn’t about him anymore but about something bigger. He gave up on his attempt so the country could move on.

There needs to be selflessness when you contemplate conceding electoral defeat. This might seem obvious to people who have lived in countries with multi-party democracies but I come from a country where flawed elections are the norm and even when they are fair the loser just cannot imagine conceding and would rather scuttle the whole process so the other person doesn’t get it. (Hilary has been accused of wanting to do this so Obama can lose in November and she can run again in 2012)

So in mature democracies, your strategies focus on how to get the majority of people to support your bid rather than victory or nothing else. A victory or nothing else strategy focuses on getting into power no matter what. Actually taking the time to craft policies to get people on your side is not part of it. Projecting a wonderful personality that connects with majority of the people is out the window. Working hard to ensure those that support you actually cast a vote is not really necessary. It’s all about manipulating the process so the end result shows that you won. When you did nothing of the sort.

I wonder how, where and when Clinton will concede defeat now. Whatever happens, it’s going to be a huge event.

Bush People of Aotearoa

There is a term in my native language called “Ara-oko”.

A literal translation would be ‘person of the bush’. It is used to refer to an individual who is ignorant of the nuances of polite society or alternatively is uneducated or illiterate.

When it comes to Africa and Africans a lot of kiwis I am sorry to say are 'ara-oko'. And you can’t really blame them. This vibrant, adventure-filled island of hardy, generous and fun-loving people is so far removed from the rest of the world geographically. Today’s news is seen as happening in another world and it might as well be, with a 12 hour difference between Auckland and London. We are plodding away at our desks and jobs when the rest of the world is either deep in slumber or winding down their days.

And then the main immigrant presence here is Asian. China and India account for a significant proportion of that demographic. Singapore, Japan, Korea, Taiwan all have large communities here as well. So when a debate is raging in the body politic about the benefits (or otherwise) of immigrants, although substantially the same as what Spain and Portugal deal with from West African citizens, the face of the immigrant in question is Asian.

Perceptions about Africa are framed by images on television. Images which are almost always negative. Images of starving children, internecine wars, AIDS and HIV. There are a series of Save the Children adverts on TV that I absolutely abhor. They show the worst parts of Africa and ask people to donate a certain 'tiny' amount to 'mightily' improve the lives of the sick, poor and starving children in Africa. I do not doubt that these organizations are making some sort of effort to offer genuine help to the individuals most affected by the myriad problems affecting Africa but it irks me that this is ALL that New Zealanders see about Africa.

Physical interaction with Africans is primarily with white farmers fleeing Robert Mugabe’s Zimbabwe; white South Africans moving here through Rugby and business ties; and then refugees from Eastern Africa (Sudan, Somalia etc). These are the majority of the tiny proportion of Africans in New Zealand.

Kiwis then assume that any African they see falls into one of these categories. If you happen to be dark-skinned then you obviously fall into only one. Case in point. Seun my Nigerian friend who came here to study originally and is now a resident, and I entered the elevator with a kiwi guy the other day. We exchanged the usual elevator pleasantries and the very next question this 'ara-oko' asked was, “So are you guys refugees?”

You could feel the temperature drop below zero in that tiny elevator.

“What makes you say that?” I asked in my iciest tone. The poor guy turned red, mumbled something incomprehensible and looked like he saw his personal Lord and Saviour when the doors opened at his floor. Thinking it over later I regretted making him feel so uncomfortable but couldn’t get over my disappointment that his question exemplified what the average kiwi thinks.

If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me if I was American I would be a millionnaire. If you speak barely accented English, seem to get along with people quite easily and show more than a passing aptitude for world and current events, you MUST be American. Or grew up in Britain. Or schooled there.

I remember reading that in the 1960’s some dude in government (or was it a celebrity? I forget now) somewhere in the Western world really believed that Africans still lived in trees. In the 1960’s! So while I don’t think anyone believes that anywhere these days, a lot of people definitely still believe that all Africans live a constant guerrilla existence. Scrounging for food and always dodging bullets on the way to school. Or to the diamond fields…

While I acknowledge that for millions of people in Africa, this IS a daily reality, it is by no means the totality of the situation. Being in AIESEC and during my sojourn in Europe I got used to meeting people who had an acute understanding of the reality of Africa. Sometimes seemingly more than Africans themselves. They knew exactly what terrible things were going on; the wars being fought, the disparity in income levels and failure of leadership across the continent.

But they also knew of the efforts of the middle class. (A middle class constantly under siege but a middle class all the same made up of professionals who have stayed in their home countries and are daily trying to affect its destiny in their own little ways.) They know of the universities in Africa, under-funded and over-crowded but still valiantly turning out products to fill the manpower needs of the nation. These enlightened individuals recognized that given the right conditions and encouragement, Africans were competing and surpassing their counterparts from all over the world.

I can see the pleasant surprise in kiwi’s faces when I tell them that both my parents (teacher and journalist) had their own little library of books and that I spent many hours curled up reading Enid Blyton, CS Lweis and Charles Dickens. “You didn’t have to work after school to feed your family?” I can almost hear their sub-conscious saying.

My sweetheart Tope in looking for a job has come up against this reality as well. After contacting heaps and heaps of job agencies without any luck, we were very kindly advised by a friend to contact companies directly and try to speak to people over the phone. Apparently when they see her name and where she was from, they assumed (correctly) that she was “fresh off the boat” and assumed (incorrectly) that she couldn’t speak a word of English.

I shared the story of the Chinese girl in my office who was smitten with my Michael Jackson outfit and was convinced I was American. She seemed almost disappointed when I told her I wasn’t.

Anyway, it takes one person to change the world. Me I have set out to change a nation. I will attempt to try to share the most positive aspects of Africa in general and Nigeria in particular. There are only 4 million people here. Piece of cake.

Gallant in Defeat

Liverpool are a great Club.

Dont get me wrong. I still loathe them and I will make fun of their 'goatied' manager whatever chance I get. I sincerely believe that they have an inferior team currently to my beloved Chelsea Club.

But this does not take away the fact of their pedigree.

The most successful English club winning almost 20 titles and have won Europe's premier competition in one form or the other 5 times. The most memorable in recent history being the amazing comeback against AC Milan in 2005.

Which is why beating them FINALLY at the third time of asking enroute to the final of the most glamorous club competition in the world couldnt be more sweeter.

Final score was 3-2 and when the score was 3-1, the commentator exclaimed that Chelsea had brought Liverpool to their knees! but Ryan Babel cracked a 35 yard shot that slipped past our otherwise excellent goalkeeper. This was not an easy victory. We had to be resilient, powerful and mentally alrt against masters of European football.

And we prevailed.

This makes it three in a row. Chelsea have beaten Arsenal, Manchester United and now Liverpool. We are level on points with ManU and have another date with them in Moscow in May in the Champions League final.

And so on to our FIRST ever Champions League final. Getting there is an achievement in itself and I fully expect John terry to be lifting the trophy come May 23 in Moscow!

And I have mentioned here before what a Chelsea victory does to my day. Its 9.30am on Thursday morning in Auckland here. I have Champions League mornings you see and even though the rain is pouring down in typical Auckland fashion... its such a beautiful day!!! I am revved to go to work and attack my workload with gusto!

To Russia with Love!

Of Jumpers and Monsters

Two reports dominated the front page of New Zealand’s largest circulating newspaper, the New Zealand Herald today.

The first featured photos of the dungeon of Horror in Austria where a 73 year old man had kept his own daughter captive for 24 years and fathered SEVEN children by her!
The repugnance I feel for this act is so solid I can almost touch it. What drives a man to commit such a heinous crime? What level of depravity? I cannot relate on any level to this episode and I wonder how much this is going to hurt the psyche of Austria the country.

Invariable comparisons are drawn between this case and that of the now 20-year old girl who was held in captivity for about a decade by a man before escaping last year.
In that case, you watch in morbid fascination and hope no one you care about ever gets into the hands of such a predator.

But how do you ward against your own father? One of the nearest and closest persons to you?!
Repugnant. Sick. Horrifying.

And I wondered what sort of punishment would be appropriate to this crime? The death penalty is out anyway with Austria as a member of the EU, and besides like a colleague of mine rightly pointed out, a quick death is probably too good for this monster. What crimes would he be charged with anyway? News reports indicate Incest, Kidnapping, intent to cause bodily damage and maybe even murder as one of the children he fathered died at birth and get this… was burnt!!!

My God… I am squirming in my seat and boiling with rage all at the same time!

I would suggest assemble a team of the best doctors first, and then proceed to drag him behind a car everyday, get the doctors to treat him and get him back to health. And then brand him with hot irons everyday while infecting him with a slowly debilitating disease. As a start.

It galls to know that he will spend the remainder of his life being poked by doctors in fancy institutions at the state’s expense eating three square meals and not having to show any remorse for his deeds.


The other story on the front page today was of a 28 year old guy who attempted to jump into the harbour from the balcony of an eight floor seaside apartment. He landed on the concrete walkway and died instantly. Sounds pretty stupid doesn’t it? He had a few beers in him and had been described as an avid snow boarder and general outdoors type.

For those of you who don’t know, New Zealand is the land of the great outdoors. Sky-diving, scuba diving, Surfing, white-water rafting, snowboarding, skiing, Bungee jumping are part and parcel of the tourist industry here in New Zealand. The topography and geography of the land has made kiwis into one of the most outdoors people in the world. Adventure and a sense of pushing your limits be it on a bush trek or mountain range, is part and parcel of the kiwi experience. The fact that the conqueror of Mt Everest is a kiwi was no accident at all.

But jumping off an eighth floor apartment into the harbour still seems a bit hare-brained.

I have every intention of going Sky-Diving, Bungee Jumping and Scuba diving just as soon as I get off the blood-thinning medication I have been on for the last year and a half. Apparently I am not allowed to do these high-risk endeavours while my INR count is so high. And the fact that I am even thinking of engaging in these sports means I am well and truly a member of a high-consumption society. God knows that my friends who have to battle traffic in Lagos, guard against being victims of crime, endure a night without electricity or one with combined with the noise of a generator will have far different recreational activities in mind.

But hey… when in Rome… right?

The Youngest Person I have ever met

I met a new-born baby on Sunday April 13. The youngest I have ever met.

Kayode and Jadesola’s baby was born at 4.40pm NZ time in the Auckland Hospital. We (Tope and I) visited at about 7pm.
He was swaddled in cloth, had very curly hair and was already looking around very sleepily at the huddle of adults making a fuss over him.

I was sort of expecting to have to stare at him from behind a glass partition like they do in the movies. Yes the movies. Other babies I have met have almost always been a few days (or weeks or months) old. The ones I could possibly have seen (my nephews) a mere 2 hours after they were born were all born in different countries from the one I resided in at the time.

Anyway… apparently Auckland hospital has a policy of not separating mother and child unless it is for medical reasons so we were all able to touch, coo directly in his face and even lift him up. (I didn’t attempt this last, what if he peeled in my hands!!!).

I have to confess that walking into that hospital was like entering into another world. There were terminologies and whole conversations that seemed almost alien to me. Epidurals, Induced labor etc. And there were all these posters on the walls promoting breast-feeding advantages and graphically showing techniques.

Its one thing to have a biology class on reproduction or even to attend a Nigerian style naming ceremony and its quite another thing to share the first few hours of a living breathing human with the amniotic fluid still unwashed off his body, mother looking radiant and exhausted all at the same time and the father unable to keep this idiotic satisfied smile from his face.

And then there was Iyin.

Iyin is the big sister. She is four years old and has the precociousness of her age and then some. She kept announcing to the nurse doing the half-hourly checks on her mum, “That’s my brother sleeping there” or “Wont you take my brother’s temperature too?” and when told to be careful and not poke him in the eye she replied rather tartly, “but he’s MY brother”. As if to say none of us could quite make that claim. Which we couldn't.

A baby is always a good reminder of the sublime miracle that life is. It is also a huge reminder of the responsibilities and experiences that I fully intend to be taking up within the next 2 years. Or three. Or lets make it a round five years! Hehehehehe. No hurry afterall.

Or is there?

That Latin Feeling...

I attended a party the other day. It was for one of my colleagues who was going on secondment to the USA for a few months and since her birthday was about the same time she decided to have a few friends over for a bit of a sizzle. (kiwi for barbeque).

Said colleague is an Argentinean (albeit married to a kiwi) and so the majority of her guests were all Spanish speaking. Mexico, Colombia, Spain, Ecuador all had representatives there. There was a kiwi guy there who was with one of my other colleagues and he spoke fluent Spanish as well. He had learnt in London if you believe it. Anyway, being a predominantly Latin party, most of the conversation was in Spanish and although I couldn’t understand a word it seemed like I was at a party in Lagos Nigeria.

I have written here before on the similarities between African and Latin culture and I was feeling that closeness all over again. I mentioned to Tope that we should really sit down and learn Spanish together and then when we have kids we could switch to Spanish whenever we didn’t want them to follow our conversation!

One other funny thing happened, I had a lot of anecdotes and stories from Sweden (Sverige Sverige Sverige!!!) and I shared them quite expansively and humorously as only I can do. Later Tope mentioned that a lot of those stories she had either never heard them before or heard quite distinctly different versions. I then proceeded to let her understand that one of the creeds of a story-teller is never to let the truth get in the way of a good story!

Ask any charismatic speaker or motivational speaker and they will tell you how the re-telling of a fishing trip will progress with bigger and bigger fish until it turns into a whale of a story! And if you are still not convinced, ask Hilary Clinton how a sedate walk down a tarmac turns into a Special Forces op Jerry Bruckheimer style! Sniper fire, camouflage paint and near death experiences become an intricate part of the narrative.

I still think she will be an excellent President though. And with her recent win in Pennsylvania the super delegates who will decide the nominee might start thinking she will be THE winning President as well.

Back in the Game

Above title could be given to both Hilary Clinton and Me self.

To me because after over a month’s absence from my blog I am finally posting again.

And to Hilary Clinton because she won the states of Texas, Ohio and Rhode Island in the Democratic primaries on the road to becoming President of the United States.

After having the US media count her out twice before in this contest, she has at the very least ensured that calls for her to withdraw cannot be made with any validity. HRC was apparently able to stop the 11-state month-long winning streak of Barack Obama by “going negative” in the run up to Tuesday’s contests. She ‘threw the sink’ at him apparently. (I love that expression!)

There were three main thrusts according to US media. A debateable ad showing sleeping kids at 3am and asking who Americans would feel more comfortable with when a national security phone call came through; Highlighting Obama’s links to a landlord in Chicago whose trial for criminal activity started this week; And finally the revelation that one of Obama’s top advisors had spoken to the Canadian government and told them not to pay attention to Obama’s posture on NAFTA.

All this apparently swung the late deciders Hilary’s way.

Hilary was also able to bring to the fore the unfair media handling of the two Democratic candidates. She opined that Obama was getting a ‘free ride’ from the media and perhaps out of guilt the media DID sharpen its scrutiny of the potentially historical Democratic nominee for the office of President of the United States.

For a neutral like I (ok ok not so neutral… I do think Hilary is the better candidate) I am concerned about the impact of this on the Democrats' chances in the general election. It is obvious Hilary and Obama have legitimate arguments to want to be named nominee of the party. At this stage of the contest, whoever gets nominated will have a huge task of bringing in the other person’s supporters. I believe that either one of these candidates would still win in the general election in November but ONLY if this impasse is resolved in a way that ensures both sets of supporters bring the energy and excitement they have thus far brought to the nomination process to the general election.

Drawing out the contest does not guarantee this. And it doesnt help that the Republicans have already confirmed John McCain as their nominee for the general election. He now has the opportunity to sit back and watch the Democrats eat themselves alive!

So what to do? Perhaps an Obama and Hilary team-up? Dream Ticket anybody? But who would be Prez and who would be Vice? And is America ready for BOTH a black man AND a woman on the same ticket? They definitely seem ready for one or the other but both at the same time?
Whatever happens, it definitely makes for a gripping narrative!

I Love American politics.

The Driving Force

To control a man, you need to know what drives him.

Different things drive different men. The most successful individuals who have wielded considerable influence as the ‘power behind the throne’ knew exactly what their charges needed to succeed and provided it to them.

The best example of such a ‘power behind the throne’ would be Cleopatra. She seduced Julius Ceasar, then the most powerful man in the world and after he fell on the steps of the senate in Rome to assassins, Cleopatra turned her sights on his presumptive heir Mark Anthony and not only secured her kingdom but made Anthony turn his back on the business of ruling the empire he had acquired.

A bit of overkill there really on Cleopatra’s part.

For some people, romance is what drives them. Or more accurately, the theme of being a romantic. They dream elaborate dreams and imagine themselves as the central character in a happily ever after story. The majority of this kind of people end up bitterly disappointed as they (maybe) lack the pragmatism needed to make their dreams reality. This disappointment then becomes the driving force in their lives. So yes, one’s driving force may be positive or negative.

Positive - Love, (for your spouse, children, your own pleasures); Altruism; Ambition (to be President, the greatest golfer, to climb Mt Everest) etc.

Negative - Revenge; Bitterness (from a past incident or a love gone wrong) etc.

So yes, the things that drive a human being are varied in scope. The more positive your drive, the better it is. I think. And there is yet a third class of people apart from those with positive and negative drives.

Those with no drive at all.

If you have got no drive, you most likely have no values. You plod through life accepting of what it brings to you. You find it difficult to get excited about anything or anybody. You are wrapped in a timeless cocoon of inactivity and live a humdrum existence.

You go to school because your parents made you, not necessarily because you dreamed of becoming an astronaut or medical doctor. You get married because that’s what everyone else was doing or your spouse was attracted to your seeming ‘easy-going’ nature; not because you recognized the missing half of your own soul. You take care of your kids because well… that’s what parents do right? And not because you enjoy and take seriously the experience of moulding another human being’s values and entire persona from scratch.

He without drive is a very sad individual indeed.

And me what drives me? Still trying to figure it out to be honest. I can tell you what drives my beautiful Tope, she is a hopeless romantic even worse than I am. Happily Ever After is something to strive for. And while she accepts that it will not always be smooth sailing, this has not stopped her from projecting and working towards it all the same.

In previous posts, I have acknowledged that my interests and passion include: Family, Football, Good Governance and how to make a million dollars without stirring off your butt. But how does any of this translate into a clear articulate driving force for me?

I'll figure it out!

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It has been a month since Temitope arrived here in New Zealand and this period has coincided with an absence from this blog. Needless to say, it is NOT because of a lack of activity but because the last month has left no room to spare. The last month has been

- settling Tope in with the basics. Bank account; GP visit; etc.
- Putting documents together for immigration for a long term visa/permit
- Starting a company-sponsored course on Supply Chain management
- Exploring options for a Post-graduate diploma with the University of Auckland
- Basking in the glow of having a loved one to go home to at the end of every day

So yes it has been an interesting month for me. Obviously there is a whole lot more concerning Tope and I that I could fill a notebook with already. But I hesitate to publish these thoughts on this forum. When I publish my autobiography be rest assured that this heavenly period of my life will be captured in it.

And I can charge millions of readers a fee for the privilege of sharing it.

The Calm Before the Storm

I usually find it difficult to get up in the mornings.

This has always been true of me for a long time. It wasnt always like this. I went to a quasi-military high school and we used to get up every day 6 days a week at 5am to go jogging. After doing this for most of 6 years, I got into the habit of waking up everyday at 5am - without fail - for a few years after leaving high school.

My bohemian existence as an undergraduate however soon put paid to that. I mean, whats the point of waking up at 5am when you actually went to bed at 6am? After partying all night? Or traveling by all-night bus to my next AIESEC conference?

Anyway, the life of a bohemian night owl (add my indiscipline) soon made sure that I woke up with the sun! Which of course was a problem in Sweden as in summer, the sun was up as early as 5am! But that is another story.

I have found though that, whenever I had something REALLY important to do, I had absolutely NO problem getting up at the crack of dawn. And I am sure this is the case with a lot of people. That fishing trip with your dad; the day you buy your first car; the day you start a new job; the day Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is released;

The day your soul-mate arrives after a 6-month absence; 36 hour trip and from thousands of kilometres away.

Now the funny thing is that THAT day is 2 days away. So why have I been unable to sleep for the past week? I guess some events are more important than others and your expectations are more intense for some stuff than others.

The Storm I speak of is not the kind that destroys. It is rather the kind that sweeps you away from Kansas to the land of Oz. Where you meet munchkins, travel along yellow brick roads and visit Emerald cities to speak to a kind and wonderful wizard!

It is the kind of storm that brings undeniable MAGIC into your life!

And while there are wicked witches of geographical points in this magical place, they were vanquished in the end weren't they?

The Chinese New Year is just about to start. So is mine.
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UNBELIEVABLY COOL

Oh My Goodness I just watched transformers! And it totally blew me away!

I have one of the most active imaginations that has ever been gifted to a human being. (If I do say so myself) Add to this my love for reading and reading fantasy and science fiction in particular and you can appreciate it when I say I spent many a day traveling the lands of my imagination.

Some lands were already created and I just made up my own epic adventures in them. Narnia, Through the Looking Glass; Great big magical trees with different lands at the top of them everyday... you name it and I was there.

Transformers was definitely right up there with Voltron the defender of the universe in my lexicon of MUST-NOT miss cartoons as a kid. I hated the Spider-Man movies for a variety of reasons but mainly because of the script and the REALLY REALLY fake web-slinging. It was so obviously CGI that it took away the pleasure. My imagination has absolutely no tolerance for these sort of things. I had imagined Spider-Man so realistically in my mind that it seemed an insult to me when I was presented with the CGI generated guy.

Leave him in cartoons I think.

But the action, story-line and oh-my-goodness transformations of the transformers... if you havent seen this, go and see it. It's even better than X-Men.

On communication...

Communication is key.

Key to what? I can hear you ask? Well… just to about everything.

Think about it. No one and I mean absolutely NO ONE lives in a vacuum. We fight, love, work, live, play with/to/for someone else or a group of other people. All that we are, all that we do is always done within the framework of interactions with other people.

One of the distinctive traits of Homo sapiens is that our mode of communication is verbalized and even more, has been codified into written text that potentially endures forever.
The written word made it possible for ideas and plans to be spread and consumed by others not immediately in the vicinity of the author. And such ideas were not corrupted as is wont to happen when the mode of communication was solely verbal.

This is why it is very important to make sure that you understand and are understood by the people you interact with on a daily basis.

I remember once at an AIESEC International conference where the delegates were from all around Europe with the attendant mix of languages you would expect. English happens to be the official language of AIESEC and conferences were run in English. A French speaker was trying very hard to convey her ideas during a “State of the World” session. You could NOT miss the passion and enthusiasm she had for this particular topic. But she struggled to translate this passion into coherent English sentences as she was doing something a lot of young people do: speaking from the heart.

The only problem was that the words went from her heart to that part of her brain that controls her language skills and straight into French. It then spent a few nanoseconds being translated into English. Those few nanoseconds of delay were enough to completely jumble the end-product. She wasn’t really making her point.

And then the facilitator of the session did something really remarkable.

He asked her to stop and then to make her point from the beginning, but this time in French.

She looked him at him in slight confusion as she knew there were probably one or two other native French speakers in the 15 member group.

And then she did just that. And oh my Goodness did that mademoiselle flow or what? Where she was showing her passion for the topic in her halting English, she BECAME the passion, speaking her native language.

After speaking for a good 3mins without pause, the facilitator then asked her to repeat what she just said in English. She did with perfect grammar and enunciation! Apparently, after having taken the words from her heart and spewed it out in her primary language of communication, and placing it in the realm of verbalization her brain was freed up to make the singular action of transcribing into her second language. Any wonder that people who speak 2 languages fluently remain mentally alert for a far longer period?

But why do I bring this up?

Apparently I have had an enemy at my workplace without knowing it for the last 6 months!!!

My brother from another mother had a slew of catch-phrases and sayings that became part of our lingua franca during my time in Sweden. One of the most popular was “Are you crazy or what?” which he usually used when we were having an argument or discussion. Or when he was presented with a choice of walking home through inches of snow in sub zero temp instead of catching the bus.

From the context given above, “Are you crazy or what?” obviously translates into “Are you kidding me” or “You can’t be serious!”

Well this was a catch-phrase I started to use quite frequently but ONLY with people I deemed were close or close-to-being-close friends. I am not entirely insensitive. I have a few of those kind of friends at work and routinely used said catch-phrase in discussions. Now apparently six months ago, while in a discussion with a close-to-being-close friend/colleague about Rugby and football as major sports, an Indian 'not-so-close' colleague walked in and tried to join the conversation by suggesting that cricket was the best sport in the world.

“Are you crazy or what?” I retorted! “Where I come from, cricket is an insect”!

I didn’t notice at the time but he was shocked beyond words and told other colleagues I had asked him if he was mentally unstable!

I finally heard this story today and had to stop myself from laughing out loud. Here I was taking the piss (as they quaintly say here in NZ) and he had stopped talking to me for the last 6 months! Without me noticing! The poor fellow!

I tried to give the explanation above to him telling him I wasn’t questioning his mental capacity (or stability) and that it was just a remark I used and that I thought he was a great guy! I am not entirely sure how far I suceeded.

Communication is an art. It is definitely not a science with clear-cut rules and results. It changes from person to person, culture to culture, age to age, period to period!
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The Nigerian Super Eagles, the national football team of the nation somehow managed to scrape into the quarter-finals of the ongoing African Nations Cup currently being hosted in Ghana. This after a couple of dismal performances, with no goal scored and relying on another team to beat another to go through. If we hadn’t qualified, it would have been the first time since 1982 that Nigeria hadn’t reached the semi-final of the competition! I was getting echoes of the All-Blacks at the last Rugby world cup.

They say football is about the only thing that manages to unite all 130 million inhabitants (including another few million in diaspora) of the country. And I could definitely understand why, when on reading the headline “Stuttering Eagles through to Quarter-finals” my day took a considerable leap J

And yet it is a testament to our pedigree that after the miracle of qualifying (yup there had to be a divine presence there) we are suddenly favourites for the cup again. Which we always were! We meet the Ghanaian national team next. Ghana happens to be one of our most bitter rivals and they had the measure of us in the 70’s and early 80’s. Of course in recent decades, we have had the upper hand but they are the host nation and although they haven’t REALLY impressed in their group games, as hosts and given OUR performances we go into the match as under-dogs. Ah well… thank goodness we qualified for the quarters at least!

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SHARING MY FRIENDS

Name: Caroline Kathambi Kiangura (otherwise known as CK)

Time I have known her: Going on to 7 years now

Location: VSO Nairobi Kenya

Memorable moment:

Getting our car towed in Surulere Lagos and having to literally spend hours trying to get it back from the impound. Ejiro was there as well and the three of us completely wasted the whole day and ended up having to pay a bribe 5 times the amount of the fine just to ensure we got the car back that same day and not one week later! I will never forget the image of Kathambi confronting the boss of the Impound and demanding the keys of the car.

She clearly conveyed the message that although he was taking our money, he would never ever rise above his present station in life, while we on the other hand could comfortably afford whatever he demanded from us. I swear I saw some kind of faint realization dawn in the man’s eyes as though some powerful wizard had just cursed him!

What I like about her:

Her forthrightness and refusal to take sh^* out of anybody! Whether it was from a service station attendant or her closest friend, CK was sure to let you know exactly what she thought and she never compromises on her ideals.

Other comments:

Ck came to Nigeria on a traineeship as a slightly over-pampered Daddy’s girl. Like she told us, the year spent in the bustling mega-polis of Lagos was a formative one for her. She had left the safety of the nest and struck out on her own to gain a little bit of independence. She gained a WHOLE lot in the end. That year mostly spent in the company of Ejiro, Labake, Muhammed, Eze and sometimes Bosun where we partied, fought, led a national organization and generally did a bit of growing up together remain ever-green in my memory and Kathambi stands in the centre of those memories!
I promised her that I would name one of my daughters (yes “one of”) Kathambi. I still intend to keep that promise

Kathambi, if you are reading this… I hope the madness in your beautiful country subsides soon. Thinking of you no matter the distance! Great pictures of you and Bimdi!

My Creative Muse is Back…!

In Greek mythology, the Muses (Greek Μοῦσαι, Mousai: perhaps from the Proto-Indo-European root *men- "think") are a sisterhood of goddesses or spirits, their number set at nine by Classical times, who embody the arts and inspire the creation process with their graces through remembered and improvised song and stage, writing, traditional music, and dance. They were water nymphs, associated with the springs of Helicon and with Pieris, from which they are sometimes called the Pierides. The Olympian system set Apollo as their leader, Apollon Mousagetēs. Not only are the Muses explicitly used in modern English to refer to an inspiration, as when one cites his/her own artistic muse, but they are also implicit in the words "amuse" or "musing upon" - From Wikipedia.org

Writing can be very hard.

Especially when someone else is required to read what you write. I mean, the millions of blogs being maintained is proof that anyone can write. But a much fewer number can actually write and get other people to read what they wrote. From beginning to end with total and rapt attention.

If I was a Greek writer in mythological times, my creative muse - (who would naturally be a sexy, drop-dead gorgeous, covered-in-wispy-transparent-robes female humanoid) - would be perched on my shoulder. She would be whispering ancient lore and tales of long ago into my ear, massaging my head when the ideas she put there threaten to overwhelm me, and shrieking in delight when I managed to put the heavenly and out-of-this-world stuff she is feeding me, into coherent words mere mortals might understand!

Of course, being a creature of pure creativity she is very easily distracted and is apt to wander away from her primary subject if she does not get the stimulus she needs to continue to fulfil her role. Most artists understand this and are constantly on the lookout for opportunities to indulge their muse. Trips to unexplored countries; conversations with total strangers; the laughter of children; making love under the stars in a green wood meadow; getting drunk in the red-light downtown district, any of these could be a trigger for loads of new material from your creativity. Or your Muse J

Some have reported that smoking cannabis is a sure-fire way to get your muse engaged actively with you. Most would swear that artists in a cannabis (or drug induced) addled state have actual conversations with their muses who although otherwise invisible, become solid and real to their charges. This physical manifestation to their charges takes a huge toll on the poor creatures and it takes more and more quantities of the drug in question to get the muse to appear.

Finally, in a fit of desperation and in an attempt to be left alone and not appear so strongly in our plane of existence, the muse will bestow on her charge her most powerful story/music/idea. Most charges don’t survive this blast of creativity and usually expire soon afterwards. Think of all those famous painters and musicians who created masterpieces and classics. And who were undoubtedly mad as a hatter!

Not all artists run mad however, some merely neglect their muses and forget to achieve that level of balance that is needed for a mutually beneficial relationship. Others get that balance perfectly but almost all artists at one point or the other allow their muse to wander away and have to go to great lengths to coax her back!

Me, I seem to be on a roll. J

I ignored my blog and did no writing whatsoever for almost a month over the Christmas and New Year period. Is it co-incidental that the level of uncertainty surrounding Temi’s trip to NZ was highest over this period? And that I suddenly cannot stop posting on my blog AFTER I got the call the ticket was bought and paid for? Is there a connection to be made here?

Summer in New Zealand

I took a walk down to the main thoroughfare street in Auckland’s CBD today.

Queen Street is arguably the most popular street in Auckland city. It is maybe a kilometre - or two - long (I am very bad with distances) and one end leads to the waterfront club district known as the Viaduct; while the other end takes you towards the motorway which will take you away from central Auckland. A lot of adjacent streets are quite famous in their own right; like the Victoria street which houses the Sky-Tower, tallest structure in the southern hemisphere.

Or so they say.

Queen Street just underwent a MAJOR upgrading and beautification exercise which saw the expansion of the pedestrian walkways, addition of benches and general work to make it more user-friendly to pedestrians. And the pedestrians were out in full force today.

It is the middle of summer here in Auckland and although the day today is a bit overcast and cloudy, there is still a very nice humid feel to the air. The kind that brings to mind a June day in Lagos. And the afore-mentioned pedestrians dressed the part! T-Shirts, Tank-tops, skimpy shorts, spaghetti tops, jandals, And oh so many different shades of shades. Sunglasses that is.

A favourite mental exercise I am constantly playing is I zero in on 2 apparent strangers and build this whole complicated history and story around the both of them. How they might be connected, what they are doing, why they are where they are… fantastic stuff! I usually end up putting these poor ‘characters’ into such ludricuos situations and dilemmas I am laughing with and to myself! Of course there was still the odd sprinkling of formally dressed people as this IS still the CBD afterall. But even these ones were seated in outdoor cafes – ties and buttons loosened – obviously having lunch and making me wonder if they intend to return to work!

The weather is one of the safest topics to cover in a conversation and in Auckland it gives more than a few talking points. Anything from the harshness of the sun – the ozone layer is thinner in this part of the world – to the fact that you can get 4 different seasons all in the same day. It has especially been a talking point in my office as the air-conditioning has broken down on my floor and we were actually asked to come to work in cool clothes as it got unbearably hot, stuffy and humid! My floor is one of those where you cant open the windows and relies heavily on the cooling system. Thank Goodness they got that fixed!

Temi was especially pleased to learn she would be arriving in the hottest month of the year. I wonder how she will cope with the cold after this especially hot summer!
Hang on…. What I am doing inside sitting at my computer blogging about the wonderful weather outside???
DUH!!!

One of the true great adventurers...

The rider to my blog is, “Musings of a Nigerian in New Zealand”

I just realized that perhaps those reading my blog are not quite getting enough of what it means to live in Aotearoa.
Take for instance, the death of Sir Edmund Hilary. The first man to reach the top of Mount Everest and a New Zealander to boot.

He was 88 years old and achieved fame 55 years ago at the age of 33 when he led an expedition to the top of the highest mountain in the world.
He was immediately knighted by a young Queen Elizabeth and became an instant celebrity.

And yet… Sir Edmund was not a celebrity in the sense of the modern day starlets and pretenders of today. He sort of epitomizes the kiwiness that permeates this country of 4 million people. He epitomizes the determination of the human spirit really.

Very unassuming and uncomfortable with any pretensions of grandeur, he is remembered in Nepal for building hospitals and schools and working tirelessly to improve the lives of the local people who have seen a different kind of adventurer attempt to conquer the slopes of Everest in recent years.

Adventurers that attempt to scale the heights for personal selfish reasons and were more likely to leave trash lying all over Everest and ignore a fellow climber who was stuck half way up with frostbite about to claim his ass.

Although constantly being overshadowed by their bigger neigbours across the Tasman Sea, Kiwis have gone and forged pioneering careers and lives across many spheres of endeavour.
I am happy so far with my sojourn in this land of the long white cloud and I hope to share those everyday instances that show what living here means, a bit more in the following months.

Meanwhile we say Adieu to perhaps the greatest New Zealander of them all.

Sir Edmund Hillary (1919-2008): The Greatest New Zealander of them all

A Masterpiece of Nature

Not too many words are necessary.

There comes a time in a man's life... nay a person (man or woman) when one has to make a decision. And a commitment.

A lot of people agonize over such a commitment. As well as they should, for it is not an easy one to make.

Mine was relatively simple and straightforward.

For it is not everyday that a Masterpiece of Nature walks into your life. You have no more power NOT to make that decision than you do NOT to breathe. Does a blind man ask not to have his sight returned? Does a lame man refuse to walk given half a chance?

Feb 04 2008 will mark my 27th birthday and the beginning of something extra special in my life.

Temitope... I wait with bated breath. 14 more days

A Friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of nature - Ralph Waldo Emerson

The Circle of Life

My Dad's elder brother Justice Samuel Ajayi died on Saturday evening.

My last post was about the delivery of a bouncing baby boy to my brother and his wife and now this post is about the passing away of the 'one most like my Dad'.

My paternal Grandmother had 10 children. All boys. Six of them grew up to adulthood. Justice Ajayi was the second born. He was almost 76 years old and by all accounts and indices lived a very full and happy life.

When I say he was the "one most like my Dad", I mean he was a Sanguine-Choleric who was more likely to have his laugh heard from miles away and you could count on knowing exactly where you stood with him. He always seemed to be excited about something or the other and he had a booming voice that always seemed to resonate in and around everyone who was present.

If I ever wrote a story based on my Uncle, his words would always be in bold and capital letters!

"LADI-BOY! HOW ARE YOU? ARE YOUR PARENTS WELL? DON'T BE TOO MISCHEVIOUS NOW!"

I remember once I was staying in their house in Akure in South West Nigeria where he had been a High Court Judge and lived for as long as I have been alive. He was complaining about the Satellite TV and couldnt get it to work. He was in khaki shorts and a shirt and he kept striding from the living room back to the bedroom where the decoder was installed. He didnt just walk, he strode everywhere!

It was looking at my own Dad.

Ok yes, they ARE brothers. And ok yes... the Ajayi brothers look extremely alike. But not just the physical aspects which was impressive but the exclamations, the pitch of voice and his mannerisms! It was very eerie!

Rest in peace dear Uncle. My thoughts go to "Mummy 2", my beautiful aunt who had been with him for most of 45 years!

And to my dear cousins, Sta mi Bola; Uncle Bayo; Sta Dupe; A.J and; Ayokunle, may God give us all the fortitude to bear this loss! Amen!

This is a picture of Daddy 2 (as we fondly called him) with my big sister in June 2007, at my brother's wedding. It was the last time I saw him!

Welcome... welcome... to my third Nephew

My brother and his wife had a bouncing baby boy!

Said Happy event occured at 11.24am on January 07, 2008. This is their first child but it makes it number three nephew for "Uncle Ladi".

Fantastic profile shot of the newest 'Ajayi' on the block. His name is RADE (pronounced rah-DAY)

And Incidentally... the other wedding I attended in Lagos last year has also borne 'fruit'. My dear friend Eche and her husband Ade also welcomed their bouncing baby boy on the same day Jan 07, 2008. Congratulations Youse Guys!

Political Junkie

I didnt exactly grow up in a democracy.


Ibrahim Badamasi Babaginda, the aptly named 'evil genius' of Nigerian politics was the self-appointed Military President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria for 8 years. 1985-1993. He was succeeded by the worst depot of them all, Sani Abacha who ruled with a titanium fist for 5 years. He was in turned succeeded by Abubakar who stole his share for a year but duly handed over to a civilian government in 1999.


Abubakar handed over to a one-time Military Head of State (between 1976-1979) who replaced his khaki uniform with the agbada (flowing robes) of partisan politics. Unfourtunately he has been accused of being even more dictatorial than when he ruled by military fiat! He did his thing for 8 years (2 terms) and handed over to a former governor who to me has been lurching from one pillar to the next post since middle of 2007.


Needless to say, politics in Nigeria in addition to being as dirty and brutal as it is everywhere else in the world, also has the disadvantage of being played by actors with a military mentality. Winner takes all kind of thing. Acquisition of power is the end, not necessarily what to do with it when you get it. (Steal the treasury blind seems to be the prevailing wisdom)


Which is why I admit to a fascination with the ongoing Presidential campaign in the US.


Although originally a parliamentarian one, democracy in Nigeria has been modelled after the Presidential system since the 70's. Small wonder that I turn to the architects of this style of government for lessons to be learned in how to conduct the selection of who will be the leader of what they have turned into the greatest nation on earth.


I think Hilary Clinton will become the next - and first woman - President of the United States of America.


Since this is my personal blog and it is not affiliated to any news or network station, I can freely make any prediction I damn well please.


I think she will become so, first and foremost because I want her to, and Bill Clinton (what a guy!) will be back in the White House. And secondly because she has the organization and competence to be the President.


Barack Obama has rock-star appeal no doubt, and is way ahead of Clinton in actually being able to heal and unite the country to move forward. But lets face it... America is going to move forward no matter what happens. They survived Nixon and moved forward just fine. George Bush was the most clueless leader to come along in quite a while but after 9/11 America stood together behind him. (Look where its gotten them so far)


The 'glory days' of the Clinton era was marked by some of the worst partisan fighting the country had ever seen. But it still WAS the glory years of economic boom. Now, this is not the arguement for bringing back the wife.


No. The wife just happens to be this highly competent individual who BECAUSE she knows the right-wing element will be gunning for her every time will be motivated to do the right thing! And you KNOW she knows what the right thing is. Lets face it, the core bedrock of democracy is the whole checks and balances thing.


Barack Obama on the hand wants to 'change things' and run a united front. He's saying the right things and hitting the right notes but there is the small inconvenient fact that substance still seems to be lacking in his policy framework. Whether he likes it or not, he's going to have to gore some oxes and step on a few toes to get things done. Who wants someone 'learning on the job' for this particular job?


Anyway, Iowa and New Hampshire has come and gone. 1 a piece. Its good for Hilary Clinton to get bruised and shaken up on the way to the Democratic nomination. It prepares her for the general election in November.


One last thing is that when I switch one of the four TVs in the tea room at work to coverage of the US election, majority of my work-mates look at me funny. Who would want to listen to American politicians rather than watch Roger Federer demolish that poor Argentinian fellow???


A Political Junkie who wishes his home country had half the vibrancy and workability of the American system. Thats who!

On Being a Writer

It's not easy being the last of four kids.

Especially when you know your parents were planning on three.

The plan worked sufficiently long enough that my older siblings are closer in age between them than they are with me. Of course, I became the apple of my mother's eye and pretty much got away with anything short of murder as a little kid. In later years I would console myself with the fact that my existence was proof of an indomitable spirit and a pre-destined purpose upon the face of the earth. And my wonderful siblings always pointed to the answer little Gretl - the last child of the Von Trapp family in the Sound of Music - got when she asked, "Why am I always last?"

"Because you are the most special"

So although I was always able to wangle the attention I wanted as the 'baby of the house', that attention wasnt quite what I started to crave as early as my pre-teen years.

Respect.

My biggest advantage was also my biggest cross. If I was too young to do 'that kind of heavy house-work' I was certainly too young to be allowed to go on my own to the next street to play with my friends. Not without my big brother to watch over me. By the time I cottoned on to the fact that I would have to take on all the responsibilities of an adult if I wanted to be treated as one, I had a mountain to climb.

For instance, my big brother got to take the car out at a much younger age than I. As a matter of fact, the first time I took the car out on my own (at 18!!!) I had to do it without permission and damn the consequences (an ass-whupping!). But this just illustrates the point.

I was forever wanting to tag along with my brother when we were kids and he always said No! I think my big sister finally stopped seeing me solely as her 'baby brother' when I asked if I could use her house for my Valentine Day celeberations a few years ago when I was visiting her in London! My other sister, when she had her first baby, declared that I would likely be a play buddy for her son rather than an uncle. Never mind there is a 20 year age difference! (Although my nephew has some of the coolest games to play)

But what has all this got to do with being a writer?

Well, AIESEC the organization has played more than a significant role in my evolution as a person. Here was this group of extremely smart and idealistic young people my age and I found that I had a natural aptitude to charm and acquire (and bask) in the attention I got. AND because I was also able to participate in the serious discussions and plans of changing the world, I got respect as well!

There was nothing more satisfying than developing an agenda for a 5-day conference for university students and then going on before a hall full of them and delivering the developed sessions. You shared your own experiences, borrowed concepts from your partner corporate organizations and wrapped it all in an easy, no-pressure, facilitating mode of delivery!

I seriously miss those days.

But my blog has suddenly opened up a new avenue. You could argue that the delegates at those AIESEC conferences couldnt help who came up before them to explain how to change an individual's life by sending him abroad to work. They were interested in the message and not necessarily the messenger. (Maybe some people drew delegates to conferences just by being on the Facilitator's list but I dont think so!)

A blog is significantly different from preparing a session on Brand Communication. Most blogs are just a run-down of an individual's day-to-day activities and would probably attract only that individual's close friends and family. A fewer number of blogs are specialised on a particular topic/area/industry and are written by experts in these fields. These ones draw a wider audience, again because of the message

And even fewer are a combination of both categories above. A blog that shares day-to-day activities of the person involved BUT still passes across a subliminal message. That message could be philosophical, educational, social or just plain humorous.

I cannot claim to be an expert in any field. Yet. But I have had at least 4 friends email/txt/call me to ask why I havent posted on my blog for such an extended period. That - and here comes the unbelievable part - they miss my posts! For the sake of arguement, let us say these four are blinded by my friendship with them. They will read my blog no matter what. But what do you make of the emails I got from Lebanon and Colorado US from perfect strangers asking me why there was no activity on my blog??!!

Reading a blog is a conscious thing. You start-up your computer, open an internet browser, type in the address (or click on it in your favorites) and settle down to read. The fact there is ONE individual (never mind two) who I havent met reading my inane writings...!!!

Way beyond cool!

This is attention AND respect on a whole new level. How must an individual like J.K Rowling feel when she browses the internet and sees the independent websites - nay... the industry! - that has sprung up to discuss/criticize/analyze/exploit/inform/mis-inform/praise the adventures of the teenage boy-wizard she created. All the while making tons of money of course!

I have always had a fertile imagination. I like to think I have a way with words. Verbally and in writing. I think its very satisfying to create - write - something that other people will consume (read) AND enjoy consuming (reading). And while they enjoy it, you can plant any number of ideas, messages or teachings within the prose you have created. Ideas/Messages/teachings that can go on to trigger a chain reaction, get people to act, to change or demand change...

...but now I am getting carried away!

One key aspect of being an agent of change is to first find something you care very deeply about. Then evaluate what things you are very good at. And then try and marry these two together. I care very deeply about a lot of things. Family, Football, Politics, Good Governance and how to make a million dollars without stirring off your bum.

And I am very good at talking. And writing. Hmmmm...

_____________________________________________

SHARING MY FRIENDS

NAME: Segun Yewande and Toyin

Time I have known them: My Whole Life

Memorable Moments with Them:

SEGUN/

LOCATION: Lagos Nigeria (National Business Development Mgr DHL/DPWN Nigeria)
I was a freshman in university and my brother was already in his 3rd year in the same institution. My mum had charged my brother with making sure I was well and truly orientated to my new life. My brother pulled up in front of Queens Hall, one of the female halls of residence and said, "Thats where all the 'happening' girls stay". He dropped me off in my faculty, wished me luck and drove away. Gotta love that guy!

TOYIN

LOCATION: London UK. (Treasury Dept, MTV Studios)

My second sister was always the creative, athletic, poetic one. Keeping diaries, writing poems as gifts, competing for her high school in the sprints. She seemingly never had time for me. She wrote about the people in her life in one of her many little books and summarized each person in a few words. My Dad was, "the wise and discerning one". My mum was, "my strength and inspiration" to her. My brother was, "a buddy and confidante" or at least it was something along those lines. I cant really remember. The only one I clearly remember was the one she wrote about me, "A Pain in the Neck".

My folks were a bit hesitant in showing me what my sister, who I idolized had written about me, for fear of hurting my feelings. They couldnt really comprehend it when I jumped up for joy and went about for the rest of the week preening at the description.

At least it showed she noticed me!

YEWANDE

LOCATION: London UK. (Stay at home Mum of 2 bustling boys)

I had always had a strange relationship with my sister growing up. We got along best when we were away from each other. She attended a boarding school and during term, we would exchange these flowery letters delcaring how much we missed each other and couldnt wait for the holidays when she would be able to teach me the new snack invented in school or some such other event to look forward to.

Which was why my folks and the other two were always puzzled when she came home and within a couple of days, we would be at each other's throats. She is the first-born in more than name. Yewande is the no-nonsense uncomprising (at least back then) leader. "My way or the High Way" sums it up pretty much. And I was the over-pampered last born used to getting my way. Who the hell did she think she was trying to order me to pick up my clothes myself???

The first time I visited her in London after she had moved there on finishing university in Nigeria, it was the middle of winter. I fell asleep on the floor in the living room watching cable and I half-woke up to find my sister putting a pillow under my head and covering me with a thick duvet whispering to herself, "...do you want to catch cold you silly boy".

I probably never told her this but that moment marked a turning point in the way I understood and viewed her.

OTHER COMMENTS:

The fact that you share the same DNA and blood with someone does not guarantee that you will get along with that person. Some of the bitterest enemies I know are family. I consider myself lucky that I am friends with all my siblings and they epitomize that line in Baz Luhrman's 'Sunscreen':

"...Be nice to your siblings. They are the best link to your past and are most likely to stick with you in the future..."

From left to right: Yewande, Segun, Toyin and yours truly

Being Sanguine

Sometimes I hate being right!


Being sanguine has it uses. Nothing gets you down, you always have a sunny disposition and things always seem to work out the way you want them to.


Except for those inconvenient moments when reality sinks in and you realize the whole world isnt going to get along and be happy! Which is what...? oh... only like every other hour or so!


Even when you do admit that things arent swimming along and people might actually be mad at each other or (horror!!!) even at you, you fully except them to kiss, make up and continue to be happy in a short period of time. And when you cajole and try to convince them to make up - and they dont - you know you just need to whack them over the head or kick them in the behind for them to see things your way and keep the utopian peace.

Would that it were so simple or easy!

My ftp account on nomadlife had expired and I just got Dody the admin/owner/innovator of the site to renew it. I have kept a copy of his reply so when the site gets bought for a billion dollars... I can sell his reply email and make a few quid myself.