My Big Fat International Network

I have about 30 first-cousins (give or take a couple) on my father's side alone.

As a child I was always eager for the next family gathering where the full range of uncles, aunts, cousins, second cousins and in-laws were always on hand to tease, lecture, make fun of, and scandalize each other. Stories grew into legends and epics after being repeated over and over again over the family dinner table. And almost all the stereotypes were represented in my quite extensive extended family.

The quiet head of the family, my dad's oldest brother who never said much but was deeply respected across the family. The larger-than-life uncle who had a booming laugh and almost always talked in capital letters. The rakish younger uncle who cracked up his nephews and nieces with fabrications dressed up as true stories; the aunt who was famous for her verbal missiles but who no one quite had the gall to confront her about it; the cool successful cousin who all the mothers held up as a measure of how we should aspire to be like... you name it, it seemed my family had the whole caboodle.

But as is the nature of the current world, such family gatherings have dwindled in the last few years and this is in no small part to the dispersion of family members to corners around the globe. London, Oxford, Birmingham, New York, Durban, Kansas, Atlanta, Boston, Libreville, are all cities that play host to an Ajayi. Current and former. And of course the Ajayi family even manage to have a representative in Aotearoa as well.

So a pretty international-based family.

And then add to this my friends. During my time in AIESEC, I shared intensely deep experiences with individuals from across the globe. A lot of these experiences at 10-day conferences and a lot when I lived in Stockholm, traveled a bit around Europe and met such an amazing spectrum of life-stories, passions and learning's which were all wrapped up in the unique idiosyncrasies of each individual person. I used to boast to my friends here in New Zealand that there was nary a country Europe I would visit and not be able to count on a couch to sleep on.

Or at least there would be if I kept in touch with any of these people.

I have been enjoying married life so much with my queen that I find I have been retreating away from the single most important item that I took away with me from AIESEC. My network. And it seems so silly in this day and age of twitters, facebook and skype that I am not in constant, daily contact with people who have made the tapestry of my life like a coat of many colours!

And of course I must not forget the "friends of my youth", those I grew up with and have known outside my AIESEC crowd and who are mostly still back in Nigeria.

So this coming week, I will be spending a whole lot more time on the phone, Internet and email to try and strengthen those contacts I have made and who knows maybe even make a few more. http://nomadlife.org/ is an especially good tool to just catch up on what people are up to and Facebook makes it even easier to actually get in touch and communicate with people.

So, if we have ever crossed paths in the past, you just might be getting an email, phone-call or maybe just a comment from me on your FB page in the coming weeks.

(I have almost a thousand friends on FB, suffice to say not all the people on that list will be hearing from me. Unfortunately)

Much Ado about Swine Flu

No I don't have swine flu.

But apparently, the particular strain of influenza making the rounds of the global community is now a pandemic. A Pandemic is apparently like the grandaddy of an epidemic. Communicable disease gone rogue. And New Zealand has been in the eye of this particular storm.

When the disease first surfaced, New Zealand was one of the first five countries with confirmed cases courtesy of a group of students who had just returned from a school trip to Mexico. The measured response and clear procedures for tracking, isolating and treating the disease were very impressive to watch and observe. I had a phone conversation with my father about that time and we both concluded that it would be... unfortunate... if such an epidemic reached the shores of Nigeria.

Anyway, from the less than half a dozen cases first recorded some weeks ago, it jumped to 23 then 71 and as of this morning (NZ morning) there were 81 confirmed cases of Swine Flu in the country. One primary school in the Auckland region closed down and sent all 145 pupils home.

So far nothing to worry about.

This particular strain of swine flu appears to be mild, its no more worse than the normal flu which according to the NZ Herald will send about 31,000 people to the hospital anyway in peak winter season. (one of the bewildering things about this to me is why the strain has killed so many in Mexico).

Since winter is just settling in on NZ, then it pays to be wary. Especially when wikipedia tells me that the Influenza pandemic that killed millions and affected a THIRD of the world's population in 1918-1919 was actually a second wave of flu. The first one hit without much impact, scurried off to wherever it is that flu epidemics go for holiday and came back to kill millions in a much more virulent episode!

Which is why I tried to send home one of my guys at work today when he turned up sniffing and sneezing to work. The Fonterra Chicago office was apparently closed as well when one staff member tested positive for the flu.

And which is why I nearly asphyxiated myself on the bus home tonight when this guy in the front row started sneezing without covering his mouth. I held my breath through 2 stops you see. Even though I was at the back of the bus.

New Zealand has one of the tightest border controls in the world and the government is concentrating on two strategies of "border control" (keep it out) and "cluster control" (stamp it out)

So for now, I have bought me a huge bottle of dettol hand sanitizer and will nod, smile heartily and walk past people very quickly rather than shake their hands and hope I hear people sneeze around me so I can hold my breath.

I wonder how much Tamiflu costs.

Eko for Show

If you google Lagos, you come up with results for a maritime Portuguese city that back in the 12Th and 13Th century served as a maritime expedition point for Portuguese explorers who sailed across the west coast of Africa.

They apparently made it to my neck of the woods and named the city of my birth for their port of origin.

Wikipedia tells me that a specific explorer, 'Rui de Sequeira visited the area in 1472, naming the area around the city Lago de Curamo'. Yoruba settlers from along the Ogun river had however lived in and around the creeks and lagoons of the south-west part of present-day Nigeria and had given the name "Eko" to the area. If you want to read more about it... click here

I mentioned about 2 posts ago the hullabaloo created in my office when Lagos was ranked very low in an index of cities measuring live ability. I asked for pictures, evidence and photos to show on this corner of the blogosphere that Lagos was innovatively trying to shed the bad rep it had acquired.

In response, I got this very delightful news item below from CNN sent to me:




When anything exciting, momentous or eye-catching was happening in Lagos, the title of this post would be heard from the mouths of anyone describing the events. Sort of similar to "Viva Las Vegas"

One saying that has been adopted by the current Lagos State government is in Yoruba (my native language) and goes "Eko o ni baje". Literal translation means Eko will not spoil.

The news items above makes me believe it.

Sometimes Growing Up isnt all That...

I hate being an adult sometimes.

I miss the carefree days of my 'youth' when the most important thing in my life was getting to the next AIESEC conference or asking out that gorgeous girl in my class.

Now the inescapable facts of adult life like bills, taxes, career-path, family responsibility all want to suck one down into that cliched but true phenomenom called the rat-race.

You also have to deal with death differently.

My friend Tokunbo Dawodu died last week.

I guess you could say I have been lucky that growing up I never had to deal with the death of a close family member or friend. And even when you are a child and someone dies, there are a lot of coping mechanisms available, "She's gone to be with the angels".

I met Tokunbo some 11 years ago when we were in University together. He was a member of AIESEC and together with Kwesi was one of those I looked up to when it came to the art of chasing girls. I remember him joking that he never drank alcohol because a civil war was liable to erupt if he ever got drunk and started spewing the names of the girls he had been involved with.

You would think he was quite well hated for being such a play-boy but the opposite was the case. They all seemed to love him just the same. Perhaps some of it came from his unpretentious nature and his wide smile must have gotten him out of trouble more times than he would care to count.

And to have such a fantastic human being drop dead for no apparent reason makes me wonder what its all about. No parent should have to bury a child and my thoughts go out to his dear mother. I am having trouble making rational sense of it all and this is just me, I do not want to imagine what that is like for his mum.

I will always remember the bus trip we took together from Ibadan to Kano to attend the AIESEC conference. We joined the AIESEC Ife group and it took all of 15hours. The romance and togetherness shown between you and your then girlfriend was a delight to watch on that trip. And it set the standard for the sort of relationship I wanted to have after that.

Tokunbo was a gentleman and always fun to be with. And I do not say this because he is dead now. He really was. A trained lawyer and resident of the greater Manchester area, Tokunbo will be sorely missed by a whole lot people chief among them, me.

Wherever you are now Tokunbo, I hope its a better place and I hope we meet again someday. Adieu my friend

...Not so Good for Lagos

I practiced being rude on Friday and also put someone in an awkward situation.

So the Economist Intelligence Unit had ranked 140 cities for 'liveability' and my current city of abode Auckland had come in 12th.

Lagos, the city of my birth however had scored a very disappointing but not surprising 136th position. Lagos was above countries like Harare in Zimbabwe and I think Lahore in Pakistan.

So on Friday, I overhead one of my colloeagues (who incidentally reports in to me) laugh quite loudly and he called another guy over and I overhead him point out the fact that Lagos was quite low on the ranking and he wondered if I knew about it.

It was a late on a Friday evening and I was struggling to finish some work before I went out for a much needed drink at the company social drinks and I just didnt have time to be the butt of what was frankly an insensitive jibe at my native city. But seeing that such social niceties usually flew over the indivdual in question's head, I steeled myself for the encounter.

Both colleagues walked over and started laughing and trying to explain that Lagos Nigeria was not a very nice city to live in and did I realize how bad a ranking the city had gotten. I had been preapring to give a nice little fake laugh, shrug my shoulders and "be a good sport" about it but in that split second, suddenly decided not to.

I schooled my features into the coldest, unfriendliest look I had and turned very deliberately from my work station to face them both. "What did you say?" I asked in a soft dangerous voice? (a la Hannibal Lecter in Silence of the Lambs); the second colleague who had been roped into this little mini-drama immediately sensed the danger and went very quiet.

The instigator however musnt have seen any good movies lately as to recognize the calm-before-a-storm demeanour I had put on and went straight on trying to explain how my dear city of Lagos was on the same level as war-torn cities and cities playing host to a schizrophenic megalomaniac bent on ruining his people.

"And you think this is funny because..." I asked in a slightly higher voice and thereby drawing the members of my open-plan office into the coversation.

He had finally caught on to the fact that something was wrong and his laugh wasnt coming out as smoothly or loudly as before. "No I just thought you might want to know that..."

"that the city of my birth where my parents still reside and where all my friends still are is not as perfect as can be?! And you think I would find this funny because...?????"

He was in a right panic by now and was stuttering and trying to explain away the unexplainable...

"Dude, if you dont have any work to do I would be more than happy to give you some" I said, subtly reminding him that I was going to be reviewing his arse at the end of the quarter. I turned back to my computer but not before I gave a quick wink to the second hapless guy who cottoned on so fast to the changing mood.

My would-be tormentor slunk back to his desk and the rest of my evening was immeasureably improved by the sight of his hunched shoulders and the quick glances he darted my way. But although he did come back later to apologize (I sniffed and waved my hand that it was ok) it didnt change the fact that Lagos did do very poorly in the ranking.

The five factors which were measured (traffic, culture, crime, infrastructure and I think education) are of course those things that are always highlighted as being wrong with Lagos.

However...

I hear that the executive governor of the state has been truly making a difference in the last 2 years. Seemingly intractable problems are perhaps not quite solved yet but a whole new innovative approach to solving it is been taken.

I would love for any of my friends/family resident in Lagos to please provide me some pictures, links, stories on the efforts that are being made to transform the mega-city that is Lagos. Part of my anger at my hapless colleague was in fact directed at myself that I had absolutely no defence to try and at least change his perception. All he knows now is that Ladi is a bit sensitive about the sorry state of his home city but the fundamental belief that Lagos is in a sorry state I did nothing to tackle.

This is the real tragedy I think.

The 12th Best City in the World...

...and I Live in it.

The Economist Intelligence Unit just released a ranking of 140 cities in the world which measures "liveability" and Auckland, New Zealand was number 12.

Six of the top 10 were either in Canada or Australia. See here for the abridged report

I will always consider my time in Sweden as some of the best EVER in my entire life but Auckland is starting to grow on me. Or me in it.

And yes I hope to be back doing this on a more regular basis. I have said before that how could I be living in AOTEAROA and having all these experiences and NOT blog about it? God forbid I become an old fuddy duddy...

...your favorite Nigerian in New Zealand is back!

So What Does an Obama Presidency mean to ME?

I received the most delightful email from a friend today.

His name is Kene Umeasiegbu, he works with Cadbury-Schweppes in the UK and we have been friends for a decade now.

He was there live in Washington DC for the inauguration of Barack Hussein Obama and I spoke to him on the eve of the day as he sat on a train "going with the flow" of people as they celebrated this most historic of moments

I have to get his permission to reproduce his email here on my blog but the gist of it, I can provide.

Kene drew a distinction between the different roles and identities that a single person can have. Father, Brother, Son, Idealogue, historian, global citizen, Nigerian. All different but still able to reside in the same consciousness.

The convergence of his (Kene's) role as amateur historian, idealogue and black man from Africa had convinced him that he HAD to be physically present for the inauguration of the 44th President of the US.

"SO where were you when Nelson Mandela was released from Prison; ...when the Berlin wall came down?; ...when the planes struck the twin towers?"

Kene's email concluded by asking the rhetorical question, "What does the inauguration of Barack Obama mean to you who witnessed it?"

First let us get one thing straight. This is a uniquely American event. Only in America is this actually possible that a member of the minority racial group can aspire AND attain the highest office in the land when his father would probably not have been served in a local Washington restaurant a mere 60 years ago. Only in America I tell you.

At least for now.

I read an absolutely brilliant article on the Time Magazine website during the US election primaries that delved a bit more into this point of view. It seems ludricous to imagine a 3rd generation Briton of Pakistani origin becoming Prime Minister in the UK. Germany has some 3 million Germans of Turkish ancestry and yet you can count on one hand the number of German-Turks in the German parliament. Ludricous to imagine one becoming Chancellor.

And yet 3 years ago, it was ludricous to think a guy with a middle name of Hussein would become President in America.

The article also described the sheer blatant racism still being faced in China by African students and talking about Africa, the whole continent has been a measure of tribal wars and genocide among disparate nations living within the same political contraption.

The Nigerian constitution states that you can run for elective office in a state as long as you have been resident in that state for 10 years. But in a country where you have Nineteen (19) distinct ethnic groups (Different language, different culture and history, all hobbled together by the colonial empire of Great Britain), practical realities guarantee that it is a pipe dream for a Yoruba man from the South-West of the country to become Governor of Kano State which is in the northern part.

Forget about it.

What am I saying?

A Yoruba man from Ekiti state cannot become Governor of Ogun State (which is also Yoruba). They will ask him if his father does not have a house in his 'home state'. Never mind the fact he has lived in Ogun state all his life and his father as well before him.

America has lost a great deal of respect and moral authority in the last 8 years. They are facing an economic recession which is the worst in many decades. (and pulled the rest of the world down with them), they are in the middle of two wars and they do not command that aura of invincibility that they had.

And yet.... by electing the first African-American to the office of POTUS, the son of an African student and a white woman from Kansas, they have shown to the rest of the world exactly WHY they are the sole remaining super-power in the world. That ability to re-invent themselves and constantly innovate in all spheres of life has been spectacularly captured in this historic achievement.

And achievement it is indeed.

So Barack Obama's election shows me that nothing can stop an idea whose time has come. That idea did not come suddenly and unexpectedly (maybe a bit unexpected ok!) but it has its foundations from the work of giants like Martin Luther King Jr, Rosa Parks and Lyndon Baines Johnson. The millions of people who marched, demonstrated and boycotted buses all across America for the dream, the hope of a just society. All these people laid the path for this historic event in America.

America has again led. It is time for us across the world to follow.

Picture of a Thousand Words

The topic of my recent nuptials to Temitope Aramide, for some reason leaves me speechless. At least in print. And I mean this in the most positive way possible!

It must be because I am still adjusting to the sheer awesomeness of it all!

It's been a 6-month hiatus from this blog and I certainly did a much better job of reporting on my brother's wedding more than 18 months ago.

I guess when you are in the eye of the storm... it becomes that much harder to 'report'. Unless you are Cristiane Amanpour of course.

Rest assured, my shared journey with this most perfect of women will come up for conversation on this forum.

If you want to see the full gamut of pictures, please visit the links below:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=52712&l=c70cc&id=508641537

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=52700&l=3aad1&id=508641537

Incalculable Power of Symbolism

"President Barack Obama and his team of writers... made refinements to his speech at Blair House on the eve of his historic inaugural address"

{Picture and words from www.time.com}

Barack Obama is a great man.

Before I tell you why allow me to share an email I sent to a group of my friends just now. It is reproduced in part below...

"...On a serious note though, we who have never experienced overt racism as a daily feature of our lives still have enough connection to the civil rights movement in the US through said stories, pictures and accounts of the period to feel awe, shock and dare I say it… hope that maybe, someday we could emulate this gesture at reconciliation and the catharsis of generations of injustices to a nation.

My words are chosen carefully because while an almost incalculable powerful symbolic gesture, the election of the son of an African immigrant to the most powerful job in the world is not an end in itself. As I heard on TV, Martin Luther King’s dream was not for the attainment of power by one particular race but a society where ANYONE can aspire to be anything he/she wants and be judged on the content of their character and not the colour of their skin.

Let us start to dream that Eche’s beautiful kid sister will announce her candidacy for the governorship of Lagos State and not be laughed out of hand. The constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria assures us she can. Realities guarantee it remains nothing but a pipe dream. President Lyndon Baines Johnson signed the civil rights bill in the mid-‘60s. It took another 2 generations for the ‘pipe dream’ and ultimate sign of symbolism to happen on the western side of Capitol Hill in Washington DC at 12pm Eastern time on January 20 2009.

Let us pray and hope that Barack Hussein Obama’s shoulders are wide enough for the responsibilities and hopes of future generations.

The hard work begins now for him…

Barack Obama is truly a great man because he has caused me to come back to this space to start to share my ongoing journey in life once again. A journey with such a unique perspective. If I do say so myself.

I had almost forgotten what it feels like to express myself through words written on paper (or typed on a blog).

Musings of a Nigerian in Aotearoa is back!

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.