If you use cheese as bait you'll catch a rat.
I was talking to a friend the other day, and he was going on about how he can't get married to a Nigerian woman, they're too materialistic, he can't empty his whole account to keep a woman happy, yada yada yada. You know the drill, I'm sure most of you know the conversation and have had a similar one with your friends. I have had it several times, hence this post.
I'm really sorry to break it to all you men out there (and I'll come to the ladies later, do not fret), but if you use cheese as bait you are GUARANTEED to catch a rat (I didn't say mouse, rat- a stinky uncouth rat). If you go around popping bottles, driving flash cars, spending money like your account is a bottomless pit, buying the same expensive watch in all the colours it comes in, dropping your black card to pick up every bill, etc, etc. If you are doing all that stuff then of course you are going to attract a gold digging, materialistic 'lady'. You are EXACTLY what this sort of woman is looking for, so she has simply just walked into your trap. If you can afford a Gwagon, you can afford her birkin bags, if you can pay half a mil on a night out you can afford her Brazilian hair, if you have a black card you can afford a house in banana island, with top of the range cars, a maid from the Philippines for the kids she will soon have, if you go around flashing your handmade xxx suit, then you can afford her bimonthly first class trips to London, New York, and Milan for a shopping spree. You put your cheese on display, and she came out to grab it.
I am growing fast tired of this generalisation, assumption that all Nigerian women are all materialistic, gold diggers. As much as I can agree that there are a fair amount of women that fit this profile, there are also a fair few women that don't - decent, well mannered, virtuous, and wise women. If you happen to find yourself surrounded by these materialistic women then I suggest you check yourself, before you generalise. Humility attracts humility and arrogance, flamboyance, ostentaceous adolescent display attracts materialistic, gold digging, and puffed up.
The same goes for women. 'We' complain that there are no decent Nigerian men. They all have a heightened perception of themselves, they think the sun shines out of their ***, they are not serious, all they do is party, drink, womanise, yada yada yada. Perhaps it's just where you're looking, who you're looking at, or who you attract because of who you are.
Xoxo
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Broken People
A lot of Nigerians find it quite strange that ‘oyinbos’ have childcare lines that children can call to report their parents when they smack them. Whilst I believe that there is nothing wrong with a little smack for disciplinary purposes, I believe that this service is completely necessary. The truth is that some parents really do take the beatings over the top, the beatings becomes sadistic, a display of power, some parents sexually abuse their children, in Nigeria there is the added dimension of domestic help with a lot of access and exposure to kids – drivers, cooks, guards, house boys and house girls abuse children every day without being noticed. Some children grow up with severe neglect, they may be financially looked after, but their parents spend little more than a minute with them a month. Husbands beat their wives, in many cases women beat their husbands. Some people have turned to drugs, not just for recreation, but to blur the pain of a daily struggle – loneliness, a stammer, a limp. Human trafficking and kidnapping are rife in our society, some people self harm in reaction to severe self confidence issues. I am not sure how many Nigerians have eating disorders sha, we love our amala and gbegiri too much to start throwing it up after eating. The point I am trying to make is that these things are so close to home, they don’t just happen abroad, they happen at our doorstep. Behind the sharp suits, fancy bags, high heels, and big smiles are BROKEN people.
People walk around with all manner and kind of emotional scars, without any outlet, or support system. I do not mean in any way to disrespect the church (or other religious institutions), but Nigerians believe that we can just take the emotionally scarred child to church for prayers and sweep the issue of their rape or physical abuse under the table. While I believe that God can heal hurts, pains and bad memories, there is still a gaping hole in our society where we need pastoral care, counselling, someone to listen to what hurts, to offer a shoulder to cry on, a hug, to rehabilitate them before throwing them back into the dog eat dog world.
However much we try to overlook it, emotional scars shape people and shape their futures. A child that was beaten constantly will grow up to be a serial killer, sadistically trying to inflict the same pain he endured as a child on his victims. A child that grew up to his father constantly beating his mother will inevitably beat his wife, or disrespect women. A young woman who was kidnapped may grow up not to trust anyone, and be constantly paranoid. All these things can be avoided if we stopped avoiding the issues and shoving them on God, and we started talking about them and offering emotional support.
Sorry to be so sullen today, but its “the decor of my mind” and ‘Broken People’ have been on my mind.
Xoxo.
p.s. On a lighter note though, thanks a lot to Oz and Michael for their banner designs. Much love.
People walk around with all manner and kind of emotional scars, without any outlet, or support system. I do not mean in any way to disrespect the church (or other religious institutions), but Nigerians believe that we can just take the emotionally scarred child to church for prayers and sweep the issue of their rape or physical abuse under the table. While I believe that God can heal hurts, pains and bad memories, there is still a gaping hole in our society where we need pastoral care, counselling, someone to listen to what hurts, to offer a shoulder to cry on, a hug, to rehabilitate them before throwing them back into the dog eat dog world.
However much we try to overlook it, emotional scars shape people and shape their futures. A child that was beaten constantly will grow up to be a serial killer, sadistically trying to inflict the same pain he endured as a child on his victims. A child that grew up to his father constantly beating his mother will inevitably beat his wife, or disrespect women. A young woman who was kidnapped may grow up not to trust anyone, and be constantly paranoid. All these things can be avoided if we stopped avoiding the issues and shoving them on God, and we started talking about them and offering emotional support.
Sorry to be so sullen today, but its “the decor of my mind” and ‘Broken People’ have been on my mind.
Xoxo.
p.s. On a lighter note though, thanks a lot to Oz and Michael for their banner designs. Much love.
Monday, May 9, 2011
*Gate*Crashers*
Gatecrashers have the most fun. Think about it, they don’t know the people hosting the event, a lot of time they don’t know many guests, they have licence to do what they like, drink what they like, display poor table manners, say whatever to whoever, and nobody really cares – because nobody knows them, and they go unnoticed.
But gate crashers in Naije are on a whole ‘nother level. It is an ART. Gate-crashers act like they are the ones throwing the party ... They go and sit right next to the celebrant with no shame, they make demands far beyond their station (beyond the station of anybody that didn’t pay for the event), they do the ostentatious dance steps on the dance floor, you know the kind, that take Wizkid too literally when he says “oya oya ko mo le ma jo lo”, their gele’s will match a peacock in its splendour. They know they were intentionally not invited but hey they're still gonna go, and have FUN.
Was chatting with a friend the other day who was ‘ranting’ about not being invited anywhere, actually think she was just taking the piss. My advice to her was “You need to gatecrash more”. Invitations are redundant in Nigeria. Whether you’ve got one or not you can get into pretty much wherever you want to go. Just talk the talk and walk the walk. Swagger takes you far further than any embossed card, email, sms, bbm invite.
So for those of y’all out there that don’t seem to get many invitations I have put together a few Gate crashing do’s and dont’s. FYI this is just banter, do not try any of these at home o, When you get isho, I no dey dere!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Shall I put in one more exclamation mark?)
Do’s
• Do your research on the event. Who is throwing it? What exactly they're celebrating? And most importantly what friends you have in common with them?
• Do reach out to mutual friends, slyly and cunningly suggest that you accompany them to the party
• Do just show up without an invitation if you genuinely believe your name missing from the guest list was an oversight (after all the months of planning and putting together a guest list is enough for someone to miss out the name of their closest friend - *insert sarcastic face* - hissss )
• Do try to dress in line with the theme for the event. If the colours for the event are white and navy blue, do try to avoid showing up in black lace and yellow gele – you will look out of place.
• Do arrive slightly after the ‘celebrants’ so that they do not question a stranger at their event
• Do name drop as much as possible, so as to establish your social fit to the gathering. You are not just mutton dressed as lamb. You are the lamb "gan gan".
Dont’s
• Do not take over the dance floor. If you must dance do so subtly, so as not to draw attention to yourself. Just a side to side shuffle will suffilce, do not ko mo le, do not do the splits, do not break dance.
• Do not be unnecessarily demanding. You weren’t actually invited so you should be lucky to get a ball of puff puff and half a glass of five alive, do not go demanding caviar and champagne
• Do not admit that you are gate crashing. Act like you know the ‘celebrants’, pass compliments on their outfit, even allude to conversations you have had with them in the past.
• Do not make up any stories about how you know the ‘celebrants’, you are not a cousin of their uncle Funsho from Kwara, you never know you may just be saying that to an uncle from Kwara that is called Funsho. Save yourself that embarrassment.
• Do not get drunk. This is the biggest DON’T!!!!! You will attract too much attention.
• Do not complain about anything. If the decoration is cheap, the ‘hall’ is small and hot, the waiters are a bit slow, just keep it to yourself, e no concern you, if your complaints are registered your presence is noticed
• Perchance the reason you gate crashed the event was to meet a special somebody, avoid cheap one liners and avoid using those one liners on any member of the celebrants immediate family. This will backfire on you. Guaranteed.
• Do not “beg it”...If you get to the door, they request to see your IV (which of course you don’t have), DO NOT ask them if they know who you are, do not create a scene, do not throw any punches, slaps, rain expletives on the bouncer. Just respect yourself, hold your hand bag or your ’fila’ well, turn on your heal and go HOME. You live to crash another day.
With those pointers I believe you should go largely unnoticed as a gate crasher.
Xoxo.
But gate crashers in Naije are on a whole ‘nother level. It is an ART. Gate-crashers act like they are the ones throwing the party ... They go and sit right next to the celebrant with no shame, they make demands far beyond their station (beyond the station of anybody that didn’t pay for the event), they do the ostentatious dance steps on the dance floor, you know the kind, that take Wizkid too literally when he says “oya oya ko mo le ma jo lo”, their gele’s will match a peacock in its splendour. They know they were intentionally not invited but hey they're still gonna go, and have FUN.
Was chatting with a friend the other day who was ‘ranting’ about not being invited anywhere, actually think she was just taking the piss. My advice to her was “You need to gatecrash more”. Invitations are redundant in Nigeria. Whether you’ve got one or not you can get into pretty much wherever you want to go. Just talk the talk and walk the walk. Swagger takes you far further than any embossed card, email, sms, bbm invite.
So for those of y’all out there that don’t seem to get many invitations I have put together a few Gate crashing do’s and dont’s. FYI this is just banter, do not try any of these at home o, When you get isho, I no dey dere!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Shall I put in one more exclamation mark?)
Do’s
• Do your research on the event. Who is throwing it? What exactly they're celebrating? And most importantly what friends you have in common with them?
• Do reach out to mutual friends, slyly and cunningly suggest that you accompany them to the party
• Do just show up without an invitation if you genuinely believe your name missing from the guest list was an oversight (after all the months of planning and putting together a guest list is enough for someone to miss out the name of their closest friend - *insert sarcastic face* - hissss )
• Do try to dress in line with the theme for the event. If the colours for the event are white and navy blue, do try to avoid showing up in black lace and yellow gele – you will look out of place.
• Do arrive slightly after the ‘celebrants’ so that they do not question a stranger at their event
• Do name drop as much as possible, so as to establish your social fit to the gathering. You are not just mutton dressed as lamb. You are the lamb "gan gan".
Dont’s
• Do not take over the dance floor. If you must dance do so subtly, so as not to draw attention to yourself. Just a side to side shuffle will suffilce, do not ko mo le, do not do the splits, do not break dance.
• Do not be unnecessarily demanding. You weren’t actually invited so you should be lucky to get a ball of puff puff and half a glass of five alive, do not go demanding caviar and champagne
• Do not admit that you are gate crashing. Act like you know the ‘celebrants’, pass compliments on their outfit, even allude to conversations you have had with them in the past.
• Do not make up any stories about how you know the ‘celebrants’, you are not a cousin of their uncle Funsho from Kwara, you never know you may just be saying that to an uncle from Kwara that is called Funsho. Save yourself that embarrassment.
• Do not get drunk. This is the biggest DON’T!!!!! You will attract too much attention.
• Do not complain about anything. If the decoration is cheap, the ‘hall’ is small and hot, the waiters are a bit slow, just keep it to yourself, e no concern you, if your complaints are registered your presence is noticed
• Perchance the reason you gate crashed the event was to meet a special somebody, avoid cheap one liners and avoid using those one liners on any member of the celebrants immediate family. This will backfire on you. Guaranteed.
• Do not “beg it”...If you get to the door, they request to see your IV (which of course you don’t have), DO NOT ask them if they know who you are, do not create a scene, do not throw any punches, slaps, rain expletives on the bouncer. Just respect yourself, hold your hand bag or your ’fila’ well, turn on your heal and go HOME. You live to crash another day.
With those pointers I believe you should go largely unnoticed as a gate crasher.
Xoxo.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
The Royal Wedding Naija Style
All this Royal banter has got me imagining what the Royal Wedding would be like if it was Nigerian Royalty. We all know that Yorubas have the most effeeezzzy, so lets go with a Yoruba Royal wedding.
Weeks before the event (Yes, not months), the mother of the bride would have mobilised all her friends (The “mothers of the day”) to sell the Aso-Ebi for the event, to all other friends that live in their vicinity. Being a “Royal wedding” the lace will be nothing less than N400k for the engagement (traditional wedding) and the white wedding. Nothing too played out it would have to be a randommmmm colour, so everybody will know that “puff puff yato si doughnut”, and of course “Tesco value yato si krispy Kreme” ... This royal wedding will be the krispy kreme of all royal weddings. There will of course have to be a shortage of this aso ebi, there will be more demand, more hype if it is rare, all the friends of the bride’s parents are at loggerheads with each other because one got 5 yards, whilst the other only got 3 yards, just the kind of scandal needed to get people talking about the upcoming nuptuals.
It will suddenly dawn on the planning committee (the bride, her mother, and one over sabi aunt), that they have not printed invitations or secured a venue for the event. At this point the Olori (the Queen) will roll on the floor in front of the Oba (her husband, the King), and he will then put a call into Elizabeth R, and if Eko Hotel has been booked he’ll also have to put in a call to the leader of the southwest political party to ensure the swift rescheduling of whatever program was to hold (after all he opens up the way to the future – who else could solve the problem).
Now that the Aso–Ebi has been ‘ha’d’, the venue secured and Lagos’ A-List event planner booked, the buzz and word will begin to circulate , everyone in Lagos will be coveting that much sought after invitation, do not fret because if you don’t have one, ‘ko si problem’ you will still enter. The invitations will be printed, in a big rush, now its only 3 days to the event (the suspense of who will get official invites will now have reached a peak), the sentences will not be printed in straight lines, and there will likely be a few mistakes, but someone will cross out the embossed gold lettering with a blue ball point bic biro and correct it to “Eko Expo Centre”. Now that is done, the sorting out of memorabilia for the special day will commence. All manner and kind of plastic and metal buckets, mugs, note books, sponges, dustbins, credit, mobile phones even (those cheap visafone ones), plastic fans, electric fans, all sorts, just name it, they will be personalised with Sumbo weds Bosun, or Sumbo hooks Bosun.
The D-day has arrived (for simplicity sake let’s just assume this is just the one day, because we all know the chaos of the engagement will be replicated at the white wedding). The streets will not be lined with members of the public, because quite frankly nobody really cares, the traffic will be horrendous, but since it is a bigggzzz gel and bigggzzzz boy wedding, all the guests will have mo po to navigate their way through the traffic. The focus will completely be taken off the bride and the groom, after all “They are just at the altar, it is the parents that are doing the wedding”.... Every song the bride chooses to dance into will be criticised by the aforementioned friends of the bride’s mother, “ song yen o da rara” “Song wo? Ah, ko dun”, in the end the bride ends up dancing in to a song she completely detests, but it was the only one that the random aunts would agree to. She’s eventually in, has been unveiled and presented to her groom. The “alaga” would do her very best to frustrate the couple, embarrass them and of course to ensure she gets sprayed the most money of the day. The bride picks one of the gifts from the grooms family (A “Holy Book” of course, Lord alone knows why they bring other gifts since this is the only option), all the traditional stuff is done with, and the ‘enjoyment’ begins. Enjoyment is relative of course.
Did I mention that none of the guest would have arrived yet, 3 hours into the event they finally arrive, in their mile high gele’s, matching shoes and bags, and depending on their closeness to the couple they will have their own branded gifts to distribute. The waiters will go into a frenzy, they didn’t expect this many people all at once (even though this happens at EVERY event), the service will be shoddy, champagne will be rationed, food will be cold, and eventually it gets too much, so the waiters all hide behind the speakers drinking Jack Daniels neat. Hours pass, nothing has actually happened, it’s a circus, but somehow people feel so special to be on the guest list that they are blinded to this fact. The families of the couple couldn’t have hoped for a bigger success, they all go home, and sleep for a week. That was the most strenuous day of their lives, and the only possible way to recover is to lie on their backsides and eat endlessly for a prolonged period of time, while taking phone calls from friends at family who affirm their delusions of success at throwing a grand party.
Xoxo.
Weeks before the event (Yes, not months), the mother of the bride would have mobilised all her friends (The “mothers of the day”) to sell the Aso-Ebi for the event, to all other friends that live in their vicinity. Being a “Royal wedding” the lace will be nothing less than N400k for the engagement (traditional wedding) and the white wedding. Nothing too played out it would have to be a randommmmm colour, so everybody will know that “puff puff yato si doughnut”, and of course “Tesco value yato si krispy Kreme” ... This royal wedding will be the krispy kreme of all royal weddings. There will of course have to be a shortage of this aso ebi, there will be more demand, more hype if it is rare, all the friends of the bride’s parents are at loggerheads with each other because one got 5 yards, whilst the other only got 3 yards, just the kind of scandal needed to get people talking about the upcoming nuptuals.
It will suddenly dawn on the planning committee (the bride, her mother, and one over sabi aunt), that they have not printed invitations or secured a venue for the event. At this point the Olori (the Queen) will roll on the floor in front of the Oba (her husband, the King), and he will then put a call into Elizabeth R, and if Eko Hotel has been booked he’ll also have to put in a call to the leader of the southwest political party to ensure the swift rescheduling of whatever program was to hold (after all he opens up the way to the future – who else could solve the problem).
Now that the Aso–Ebi has been ‘ha’d’, the venue secured and Lagos’ A-List event planner booked, the buzz and word will begin to circulate , everyone in Lagos will be coveting that much sought after invitation, do not fret because if you don’t have one, ‘ko si problem’ you will still enter. The invitations will be printed, in a big rush, now its only 3 days to the event (the suspense of who will get official invites will now have reached a peak), the sentences will not be printed in straight lines, and there will likely be a few mistakes, but someone will cross out the embossed gold lettering with a blue ball point bic biro and correct it to “Eko Expo Centre”. Now that is done, the sorting out of memorabilia for the special day will commence. All manner and kind of plastic and metal buckets, mugs, note books, sponges, dustbins, credit, mobile phones even (those cheap visafone ones), plastic fans, electric fans, all sorts, just name it, they will be personalised with Sumbo weds Bosun, or Sumbo hooks Bosun.
The D-day has arrived (for simplicity sake let’s just assume this is just the one day, because we all know the chaos of the engagement will be replicated at the white wedding). The streets will not be lined with members of the public, because quite frankly nobody really cares, the traffic will be horrendous, but since it is a bigggzzz gel and bigggzzzz boy wedding, all the guests will have mo po to navigate their way through the traffic. The focus will completely be taken off the bride and the groom, after all “They are just at the altar, it is the parents that are doing the wedding”.... Every song the bride chooses to dance into will be criticised by the aforementioned friends of the bride’s mother, “ song yen o da rara” “Song wo? Ah, ko dun”, in the end the bride ends up dancing in to a song she completely detests, but it was the only one that the random aunts would agree to. She’s eventually in, has been unveiled and presented to her groom. The “alaga” would do her very best to frustrate the couple, embarrass them and of course to ensure she gets sprayed the most money of the day. The bride picks one of the gifts from the grooms family (A “Holy Book” of course, Lord alone knows why they bring other gifts since this is the only option), all the traditional stuff is done with, and the ‘enjoyment’ begins. Enjoyment is relative of course.
Did I mention that none of the guest would have arrived yet, 3 hours into the event they finally arrive, in their mile high gele’s, matching shoes and bags, and depending on their closeness to the couple they will have their own branded gifts to distribute. The waiters will go into a frenzy, they didn’t expect this many people all at once (even though this happens at EVERY event), the service will be shoddy, champagne will be rationed, food will be cold, and eventually it gets too much, so the waiters all hide behind the speakers drinking Jack Daniels neat. Hours pass, nothing has actually happened, it’s a circus, but somehow people feel so special to be on the guest list that they are blinded to this fact. The families of the couple couldn’t have hoped for a bigger success, they all go home, and sleep for a week. That was the most strenuous day of their lives, and the only possible way to recover is to lie on their backsides and eat endlessly for a prolonged period of time, while taking phone calls from friends at family who affirm their delusions of success at throwing a grand party.
Xoxo.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
If you want it...
Pursuit is the evidence of desire. If you want it badly enough, then you will pursue it. If you do not pursue it, then evidently you aren’t hungry enough for it, and you can do without.
I speak for myself also when I say that our generation knows nothing about pursuit. In life we do not pursue. In love we do not pursue either. We are used to having everything handed to us on a silver platter, and in many cases fed to us with a silver spoon. Most of us do not know what it means to seek out something, and work hard to acquire it, to pursue something like it is worthy of the value you place on it.
In life we have parents, god parents, aunts and uncles constantly charting out a path for us to follow, providing the finances, connections, ideas, excuses, and a new towel when we decide to throw the old one in. In love, we are spoilt for choice (I rephrase – men are spoilt for choice), if the current relationship fails there are many new, younger models willing to fill the vacancy in a heartbeat. Somehow we have lost the ability to work for things, we don’t have to I guess it’s always there. Everything is at our beck and call, and willing to bow to our every whim and caprice.
I can’t help but think how much we are missing out on. I think the best things come after a little bit of work, toil, a bit of sweat and blood. The things we get easily, pale in comparison to the things we have to work for, in life, in love, and in everything in between. If you truly desire something more than anything else, the only proof is the ardour of your pursuit. I personally appreciate the things I know I have worked hard to get a lot more than the things that have come easy to me. I am sure most people feel the same way.
Xoxo.
I speak for myself also when I say that our generation knows nothing about pursuit. In life we do not pursue. In love we do not pursue either. We are used to having everything handed to us on a silver platter, and in many cases fed to us with a silver spoon. Most of us do not know what it means to seek out something, and work hard to acquire it, to pursue something like it is worthy of the value you place on it.
In life we have parents, god parents, aunts and uncles constantly charting out a path for us to follow, providing the finances, connections, ideas, excuses, and a new towel when we decide to throw the old one in. In love, we are spoilt for choice (I rephrase – men are spoilt for choice), if the current relationship fails there are many new, younger models willing to fill the vacancy in a heartbeat. Somehow we have lost the ability to work for things, we don’t have to I guess it’s always there. Everything is at our beck and call, and willing to bow to our every whim and caprice.
I can’t help but think how much we are missing out on. I think the best things come after a little bit of work, toil, a bit of sweat and blood. The things we get easily, pale in comparison to the things we have to work for, in life, in love, and in everything in between. If you truly desire something more than anything else, the only proof is the ardour of your pursuit. I personally appreciate the things I know I have worked hard to get a lot more than the things that have come easy to me. I am sure most people feel the same way.
Xoxo.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
The Spirit of Excellence
So I have managed to survive one of the 'emptiest' long weekends in Lagos. Thankfully there were one or two interesting things to do, and one or two interesting people to do them with. Like The broadway performance of Fela...
Fela was a great show, it was evident that the producers and organisers had taken the time to dot their i's and cross their t's, no stones were left unturned, there was no room for technical glitches. In terms of planning the show was 'excellent', save but the African timing (cant have it all, can ya). In terms of the actual show: the music was on point, the acting was ok (accents left a lot to be desired, but it was a musical so this was not a big issue), the dancers, no comment, if you saw it, you know. It was well executed, and those who saw it in New York, London, elsewhere could attest that it was to the same standard here.
(Devils advocate D), I can't help but think that if the show was organised, planned, directed, and performed by NIGERIANS it would have been a total flop. NEPA would've taken light, they will still be arranging chairs at 9pm for a show planned for 7, people wont have attended, the acting would've been forced, the "who's who" would have strolled across the front of the stage at leisure. It would've been shoddy. this is not meant in any way to knock Nigerians, the truth is we are capable of producing a show to the same standards, but as a people we have not yet imbibed "The Spirit of Excellence". And unfortunately the average Nigerian doesn't care for it, as long as it is done sha, the quality is of very little importance.
"Not to know is bad, not to wish to know is worse". Nigerians are a well traveled bunch of people, we see things beautifully executed around the world, we have people come and execute things perfectly here, despite our infrastructural challenges. We import well produced products, external manufacturers come here and produce their products with the same excellence, we arrive at organised airports worldwide, we dine in clean restaurants, we travel using timely metro systems, we watch well produced films, we go to fully furnished hospitals, send our kids to schools where the teachers can pass the tests they administer, etc etc. Nigerians know excellence, we just don't wish to implement the same here. I refuse to accept that we don't know how, I believe we don't find excellence something that is to be desired, we are content to accept that the job is done, even if it isn't done well.
Excellence is an attitude, it is knowing that there is pride in what you do, however small, it is seeking to do whatever task you are assigned to the best of your ability. Even if you clean the loos in your local government, or you are the MD of a bank, Excellence is doing your job as though everything depends on it, it is holding yourself responsible for a spill by the loo bowl, or for the profitability of your organisation. The great thing about excellence is that EVERYBODY can be excellent, it's just a choice, an attitude.
I have seen excellence in Nigeria, the logistical phenomenon that is "The Experience" shows that we can achieve excellence in Nigeria and by Nigerians. We just have to want it, teach it, and live by it.
Xoxo.
Fela was a great show, it was evident that the producers and organisers had taken the time to dot their i's and cross their t's, no stones were left unturned, there was no room for technical glitches. In terms of planning the show was 'excellent', save but the African timing (cant have it all, can ya). In terms of the actual show: the music was on point, the acting was ok (accents left a lot to be desired, but it was a musical so this was not a big issue), the dancers, no comment, if you saw it, you know. It was well executed, and those who saw it in New York, London, elsewhere could attest that it was to the same standard here.
(Devils advocate D), I can't help but think that if the show was organised, planned, directed, and performed by NIGERIANS it would have been a total flop. NEPA would've taken light, they will still be arranging chairs at 9pm for a show planned for 7, people wont have attended, the acting would've been forced, the "who's who" would have strolled across the front of the stage at leisure. It would've been shoddy. this is not meant in any way to knock Nigerians, the truth is we are capable of producing a show to the same standards, but as a people we have not yet imbibed "The Spirit of Excellence". And unfortunately the average Nigerian doesn't care for it, as long as it is done sha, the quality is of very little importance.
"Not to know is bad, not to wish to know is worse". Nigerians are a well traveled bunch of people, we see things beautifully executed around the world, we have people come and execute things perfectly here, despite our infrastructural challenges. We import well produced products, external manufacturers come here and produce their products with the same excellence, we arrive at organised airports worldwide, we dine in clean restaurants, we travel using timely metro systems, we watch well produced films, we go to fully furnished hospitals, send our kids to schools where the teachers can pass the tests they administer, etc etc. Nigerians know excellence, we just don't wish to implement the same here. I refuse to accept that we don't know how, I believe we don't find excellence something that is to be desired, we are content to accept that the job is done, even if it isn't done well.
Excellence is an attitude, it is knowing that there is pride in what you do, however small, it is seeking to do whatever task you are assigned to the best of your ability. Even if you clean the loos in your local government, or you are the MD of a bank, Excellence is doing your job as though everything depends on it, it is holding yourself responsible for a spill by the loo bowl, or for the profitability of your organisation. The great thing about excellence is that EVERYBODY can be excellent, it's just a choice, an attitude.
I have seen excellence in Nigeria, the logistical phenomenon that is "The Experience" shows that we can achieve excellence in Nigeria and by Nigerians. We just have to want it, teach it, and live by it.
Xoxo.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
The Easy Way Out
I really haven’t blogged in a very long time. I apologize. I am an overly cerebral person. Well that sounds a little obnoxious, what I mean is, I think a lot. But I really needed the liberty of not thinking for a little bit.
Making a conscious effort not to over think everything brought me to the realisation that in life we really make a big deal about everything, we turn the smallest things into larger than life issues, read too much into things, use 30 words in the place of the necessary five. The yorubas say “Address po ju ile lo” … i.e. The address of the house is far bigger than the house itself. We clothe simplicity in pageant, because somehow we have been trained to think that traffic will make the parade look bigger, and somehow that is far easier than facing the reality that it isn’t.
“I didn’t have the time to write you a short letter, so I wrote you a long one instead” Blaise Pascal.
As Blaise Pascal implied, it is far easier to write a long letter than to write a short one, its far easier to dress reality in beautiful aesthetically pleasing distractions than it is to deal with that reality, its far easier to turn to a vice than to process an emotion. It’s far easier to take the easy way out as long as we make it look grand.
A friend sent out quite an interesting article earlier, It was about how your twenty-something’s are the years where you are meant to find yourself, experience everything you need till you get to the place you are meant to be, step out of your comfort zone, and how the most life shaping decision is “walking away from good-enough, in search of can’t-live-without”. It’s very easy to stick to the good-enough especially in Nigeria, than to step out into the unknown. To stay in an unfulfilling relationship because you don’t see any better options, to stay in a job that you hate and that doesn’t call on any of your skills because what you really want o to do won’t pay you as much, its easier to keep unhealthy friendships because you don’t want to attend events alone, all the while wrapping your discontent in vocabulary, fake smiles, and outlandish vices. But your happiness and fulfilment is in the unknown, however daunting that may seem.
Remain in search of your “can’t-live-without” and never settle for the “good-enough”, because easy as “good-enough” is, it will never be fulfilling, however much you rationalise it, make it look pretty, decorate it with the most complex of words.
Xoxo.
Making a conscious effort not to over think everything brought me to the realisation that in life we really make a big deal about everything, we turn the smallest things into larger than life issues, read too much into things, use 30 words in the place of the necessary five. The yorubas say “Address po ju ile lo” … i.e. The address of the house is far bigger than the house itself. We clothe simplicity in pageant, because somehow we have been trained to think that traffic will make the parade look bigger, and somehow that is far easier than facing the reality that it isn’t.
“I didn’t have the time to write you a short letter, so I wrote you a long one instead” Blaise Pascal.
As Blaise Pascal implied, it is far easier to write a long letter than to write a short one, its far easier to dress reality in beautiful aesthetically pleasing distractions than it is to deal with that reality, its far easier to turn to a vice than to process an emotion. It’s far easier to take the easy way out as long as we make it look grand.
A friend sent out quite an interesting article earlier, It was about how your twenty-something’s are the years where you are meant to find yourself, experience everything you need till you get to the place you are meant to be, step out of your comfort zone, and how the most life shaping decision is “walking away from good-enough, in search of can’t-live-without”. It’s very easy to stick to the good-enough especially in Nigeria, than to step out into the unknown. To stay in an unfulfilling relationship because you don’t see any better options, to stay in a job that you hate and that doesn’t call on any of your skills because what you really want o to do won’t pay you as much, its easier to keep unhealthy friendships because you don’t want to attend events alone, all the while wrapping your discontent in vocabulary, fake smiles, and outlandish vices. But your happiness and fulfilment is in the unknown, however daunting that may seem.
Remain in search of your “can’t-live-without” and never settle for the “good-enough”, because easy as “good-enough” is, it will never be fulfilling, however much you rationalise it, make it look pretty, decorate it with the most complex of words.
Xoxo.
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