LA FAMILIA!

In my short years of living, the importance of family to my growth and development cannot be overemphasized. It is with a sense of pride that I say to anyone who cares that I come from a close-knit family. Right from the nuclear family where we all carry one another’s burdens and celebrate our wins together, to the extended side which includes both my paternal and maternal relatives, it is a unit anyone would be proud of.

In terms of relationships, what I had with my cousin Adewale Akinade is close to the filial relationship between a child and a parent. Or how does one describe the one who was there to take care of one as a toddler and continued up until adulthood? While we may have slowed down over the years, we remain very cordial.

Growing up, my Dad was mostly out of Ibadan. I remember vividly how we traveled to pay him a visit in Ilaro, a town in Ogun state. The ‘we’ here was the trio of Mom, Yinka and me. Those were days when Dad was the Correspondent in Ilaro. He was later transferred to Calabar and subsequently Lagos. All the while, we spent plenty time at the SPAC community in Sango with my paternal aunt, Pastor Comfort Adegboyega, who is also more of a grandmother than an aunt. Mom would drop us there and head to her office while we would be taken to school and return there till she came to pick us up and we go back home at Ijokodo, all in Ibadan.

Sango was a community for us and there we forged alliances that remain valid today, these relationships are not biological but we remain constants in one another’s lives.

I continue to respect my parents for the lives of sacrifice they have both lived till now. We attended schools anyone would be proud of and they made it look as if it was comfortable for them when they were only striving and doing their best.

My paternal cousins who are numerous to mention are the best anyone can wish for. We shared a close bond when we were growing up and some of us remain very good, going to different extremes to see ourselves rise and make meaning out of life.

We had Pastor Adewole Babalola, who we called Big Daddy. It is such a shame that we did not take a picture together. Baba would have been 87 on July 25th. Any family with that kind of Big Daddy is very blessed. This I write without any bit of contradiction. He was quite a good example of many things. He took life very easily and was a role model for me. Some of the things I do and how I carry myself are down to the things I learnt from his lifestyle. Big Daddy was the pillar on which I rested in uni.

He once called me into his office and shared with me how my Dad sacrificed his early education so that he (Big Daddy) could stay in school. According to him, that was why he would go to any length to ensure my Dad and his children got the best education possible. He ensured that he stayed true to this promise. It is quite unfortunate that I was unable to reciprocate before he passed. It pains me to the bones but The Almighty who owns us all chose to take him, and we knew it was best he departed this planet when he did.

Along with Big Daddy, my cousins in Port Harcourt (Bros Sege, Kayode and Busayo) and the others in the clan who I cannot mention have played tremendous roles over the years.

No one has a paternal side without having a maternal side. Mom, being the only daughter of her family was surrounded by ‘men’, two of whom I spent the last weekend with. Her elder brother with whom I was not so close because he was the one who Mom came to live with in Ibadan and was far older.

However, the duo of Uncles Segun and Sanmi, both Pastors now also took care of me and my brothers when growing up. Uncle Segun was more officious while we liked Uncle Sanmi more because we could relate with him more. However, my first driving experience was with Uncle Segun while waiting for my admission into Junior Secondary School. All that is in the past now though as we relate very easily. Hoping we can do better with their children, who are my maternal cousins because we are not as close as we are with those on my father’s side.

Interestingly though, I maintain a very great relationship with Abiodun Adekanmi, my cousin who got married last weekend. He is the son of my mom’s elder brother. His siblings are equally cordial and his other sibs spent some time with us little children too. They lived in Molete in those days.

The two best siblings anyone can have are Yinka, my first friend and Nifemi who came when I had left home for Olivet Heights Oyo. I hold amazing memories with Yinka who was my playmate along with Tomi. As a team, we did well and have weathered storms together.

Nifemi, who was very much younger became my ‘work’ when I returned to Ibadan. As I finished secondary school and he was still in Subuola Memorial Nursery and Primary School, I was assigned to take him to school. I guess that was where we really bonded. As a toddler, I took him into the dining hall whenever my parents came visiting in Olivet Heights. He was the other sibling I had really desired and when he came, I loved him through and through. I still love him these days and he is making me feel the exact same way.

That I started this 28-day writing challenge is down to his support, which are mental, financial, material and even beyond the ones I have typed. I am typing and writing regularly because of Nifemi, and I am grateful to the Almighty that I have seen him grow into such a fine and calm gentleman, who is ‘useful’ and understands what is expected of him.

Some other people have become family. These ones earned the tag family because of their actions, not because they are blood. We have grown in leaps and bounds, becoming family and staying constant. I only hope and pray life will not rob me of these ones.

OF ANGELS, THEIR HUMAN FORMS AND BEING ONE

Writing today was supposed to be in a totally different direction, but here we are, taking another route. Today was a day that started very well and went ‘very well’. You know one of those days when it just looks as if you have been chosen to enjoy the day’s stress.

I would normally have finished today’s post before this time but the day used me big time. I’d reported at the mechanic early in the morning to sort out a challenge that refused to go away for almost a week. The sound was abnormal and was hiding. Eventually, Sir K (one of my two trusted mechanics) found the terrible sound and we overcame.

Happy that I had won, even if I was angry I had to part with some precious naira, I started for the children’s school so we could beat the wicked traffic snarl that is associated with closing hours. Anyone living in Ibadan knows what the traffic situation is around Oluyole, Akala Express and environs these days. Leave Olodo people out of this, they are in a separate world. Well, going on the school runs was the beginning of the day’s travails because as I was about to park, it looked as if my eyes were working from an alternate universe. The temperature gauge had shot up and the vehicle was overheating.

With the little experience I have garnered over the years, I attended to the issue and thought it had been settled only for us to leave and the challenge reared its ugly head at Challenge. That was where I knew it was going to be a long evening. I did a quick calculation and went to stop where I thought I could get help. That was the point at which I needed an angel!

The person who was called to attend to me was dismissive, and I know it was because of the Ramadan fast that had sapped him of energy. A decision had to be made, do I find a safe place to park and find my way home with the family? Do I try and see if any of my homebound routes will be good enough for an overheating vehicle at a time when most artisans who could attend to it were running back home to break their fast? Do I just leave the car in a safe place? I was conflicted but with Bukky’s input, we decided to risk it and find places to stop for the engine to cool down.

We had hardly reached halfway when one of the hoses burst! Angry, confused, pissed and irritated, but those feelings were not the solution to the challenge that started at Challenge. Those resident in Ibadan will understand the latter portion of the previous sentence. I still needed an angel and I approached an elderly man who was at the makeshift car lot right where it happened. He gave all the needed support by rallying someone who could get the problem fixed to at least get us home. Without that initial support, getting home would have been a problem.

Now, Bukky needed to deliver something to a customer. This would have been done very easily if the day had not taken a funny turn. However, the way our evening had gone meant I would help deliver the stuff while she made dinner. I was very tired but I just had the urge to do the needful. Funny thing was that the profit on the goods sold was not worth me taking a keke, as we call tricycle in these parts, to go and deliver them but I was just constrained in my spirit that I needed to satisfy the customer.

I joined a tricycle that approached my junction and there was only one other passenger who I greeted respectfully and proceeded to respond to messages that were waiting. As we moved a bit forward, the woman spoke, and I looked at her, urging her to repeat what she said.

That was when she told me the horror story of how she went to meet someone who owed her so she could use the money to fix dinner for her family only for the person to disappoint. She said it smiling and all. Now, I would normally respond based on my state of mind at the time which was anything but good. However, I managed a smile and reached for my wallet to give her ‘something’. As I passed her the money, the inner man spoke and asked me if that would be enough to feed myself and my children.

“Ahn ahn! Which level now? Me wey don spend plenty money plus stress on top the vehicle ish? No o, I no dey drop shishi again.”

Inner man was laughing at me but he nudged me to double what I gave, choosing that time to blackmail me emotionally by reminding me of a day I forgot my wallet at home about ten years ago. Now, that day was a Sunday and I had just returned from the night shift. As was customary for me then, I would nap before joining the service in Church. I woke up a bit late and started rushing. In the process, I left home not knowing I was without my wallet and had set myself up for embarrassment.

When it was time to pay, as I was approaching my bus stop, reality dawned and I did not realize I had spoken out – “I’m in real deep shit!”. The guy beside me looked and asked what the problem was which I told him without hesitation. He came through, covered the cab cost and crossed to the other side. He possibly saw that I was rooted to the spot where we both alighted from the cab. Coming back to me, he asked what the way forward was and I told him he had solved only half of my problem as I was now stranded and there was no way I could move without having to beg.

He gave me a 200 naira note and was about to leave but I held him back and asked for his phone number so I could express appreciation. The guy wrote the number and left. Much later in the day, I was going to call him only to discover that the number he gave was incomplete. I tried to no avail. Then I realized he was an angel, the one I needed at that point.

With this memory, I opened my wallet and doubled what I gave the woman. I later came to understand that I insisted on going to deliver that stuff because I was the angel the person needed then. No matter how much I wanted not to go, the fact that I was to be the vehicle for an answered prayer would make me push to go at that time.

We have all met angels at different times, we have been made angels for fellow humans. The prayer as we end day 26 is that may we receive the help and intervention of angels; may we also be angels that will be who and what other people need.

MUSIC AND ME

Sitting today, my mind raced back to mid-2002 which was officially the first year of uni. I call it the first year because we had previously gone through the famed Pre-Degree Science Programme at Ladoke Akintola University of Technology (LAUTECH).  That academic programme was a foundational one through which aspiring students gained admission at the time. It was a way of bypassing the Almighty Unified Matriculation Examination (UME), now known as UTME, and it helped many of us give the Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board (JAMB) the middle finger back then.

Those were days when many of my friends starting from Wale and the many others that we were more or less a crew – Loko, Femi, Oyo, Oye, Segzy, Popeson, Sola, Piro, and the list goes on and on, were leaving home for the first time. Having previously had my first three years of secondary school at Olivet Heights Oyo, leaving home was not so strange in its entirety despite returning to Ibadan and becoming a day student while I sojourned at the great Wesley College of Science, an institution of as much value as history.

This post already started with some digressions! Blame me not, it is me talking with my writing. Wale, my bosom friend of over three decades and four years serenaded us with Born To Do It, Craig David’s hit album that ruled the airwaves in the early 2000s. Let me already raise my hand and say I am not so much of a music person. Despite this obvious fact, there are songs that I know because the people around me got to listen to them a lot.

That was when Nigerian hip-hop was fast gaining ground. Talk of Plantashun Boiz which had the trio of 2face, Black Face and Faze; Remedies (Eedris, Tony Montana and Eddy); Olu and Tolu Maintain; Artquake and the others who were becoming very popular and accepted. Along with these guys, my people listened to Nelly and Ashanti, JaRule and Ashanti, Missy Elliot and others of their ilk. Wale Ajala was a massive Shaggy fan so much so that we used it to differentiate him from my other Wale. He became Wale Shaggy while Wale was either Wale or Nackson, a tag he has had since his secondary school days. In fact, Peter preferred to call him Nackson back then.

The non-conformist me however did not tow their line. I was hooked on Chief Commander Ebenezer Obey’s philosophical songs and ensured that I bought different volumes of his Evergreen Songs. For all the love Wale had for hip-hop and other genres, he was a massive Orlando Owoh fan too. For me, it was mostly Ebenezer Obey or Sunny, and both of those were in the absence of anything from my fav, Lagbaja!

I was so much in love with Lagbaja that I could sing all the tracks in the We and Me album. To make it sweeter, tracks like Konko Below, Nothing for You and Tokunbo were trending everywhere in South West Nigeria, and even as far as Port Harcourt. During my Industrial Training in Port Harcourt in 2006, I picked up the Africano album along with other albums like Westlife Bootleg and Styl Plus’ reigning album at the time whose title I cannot remember now.

Being a Church boy, I have always had access to lots of faith-based music. However, rap and very fast music are not really my thing. It has never been, it may never be! With Nifemi’s interest in music after we watched High School Musical in 2008, he started listening to Mali Music and some other guys and tried to influence me. Still, those were not my kind of songs, they were too fast and I preferred something with a slower tempo. I would play Donnie McClurkin, Mary Mary and Cece Winans whose ‘I Promise’ was played on my wedding day as we had the nuptial dance.

These days, I still love my old Obey songs and interestingly, K1’s trending E Maa Yonu Simi is my ringing tune these days while my second line has Arsenal’s North London Forever rings out when you call my other line. My taste in music is weird like that. I can be loving one not-so-popular musician when everyone is singing the praises of a trending musician. For instance, Ayob played me Black Magic in 2014 and I got hooked on him so much so that if I want to do something creative and it seems like it is not flowing, I simply start playing the album and it arouses me till there is a dampness at the source of my creativity.

I do not listen to Black Magic again these days, I hardly listen to much music these days really. Music can be therapeutic but for me, writing is more therapeutic and it replaces music but I get to find my music per time. Right now, Elizavocat and her songs are doing it for me. The way she serenades me while I drive is something I cannot quite explain yet.

However, if you see Lagbaja anywhere, tell him I will still come after him because he did not let me have the chance to visit Motherlan’. The last two albums still sit pretty in my car and I have them ripped on my PC, hoping I won’t get charged for piracy sha.

If you see me listening to some music that you are not used to, just know that it is what is reigning and meeting my musical needs at that time. It may change to another song or album tomorrow. Now someone says this guy is not a child of God again. No vex ehn, I don’t have a playlist. I just listen to what works for me.

Tomorrow, we meet again.

WEDDINGS, BRIDAL TRAINS, AND BEST MAN DUTIES

Featured Image: Ablad and Vero

Remember, Saturdays are for owambes, especially weddings. It is only fitting that we toast to the weekend by reminiscing on weddings and the thing with bridal trains which brought about me engaging in some Groomsmen and Best Man duties. In fact, this is what set the tone for my (unfinished) web series which I titled Best Man Duty.

Before we dive in, I’d like to heartily congratulate my newly wedded cousin, Biodun Adekanmi, the one we call Ablad, and his beautiful wife Veronica. May this phase of your lives come with plenty blessings.

Requests came from my friends in the early 2010s to be part of their bridal trains as Groomsmen. Why won’t it be so? I was one of the most eligible bachelors at the time so it was no surprise. Sometime in February 2012, Pastor Sogo got hitched and it was a whole team of SPAC young men. The designation for that epoch-making occasion was Men of Honour, which was the trio of Abot, Emmanuel Utulu and me. It was fun, but I had to run back to work that evening to run the fifth day of my night shift.

After that, I more or less became a professional Groomsman and Best Man. A few events here and there, with great memories that have refused to fade. Being on the same Bridal Train has given me friends too.

2013 December, I had a busy December. To be specific, there was a wedding for me to attend each Saturday that month. Of the four, I attended three; of the three, I was one of the Groomsmen at one, the Best Man at the second and a friend/family of the couple of the third. While I would have enjoyed being one of the Groomsmen at Benjamin Igboekwu and the adorable Florence, the professional commitment that meant I needed to be at work that night robbed me of all the fun my ‘men’ had planned.

The following week, I was my buddy’s Best Man. This was a wedding we planned together and if you have read my Best Man Duty series, the Church setting was inspired by this particular wedding. It was the kind of wedding where there was no Bridal Train except for the Ring Bearer, Little Bride and the Best Man and Chief Bridesmaid.

Some months later, I was back on Best Man Duty when another of my buddies got married. There I met the beautiful Dayo Alajiki, the Chief Bridesmaid. Dayo is my muse for Cynthia in Best Man Duty. Those hours we spent supporting our friends to get married laid the foundation for the friendship we have today. We don’t get to interact every day these days because of the demands of adulthood but we remain very cordial. One of us would hit the other up occasionally and we would have mentally-stimulating conversations. Back in the day, we would chat all through the night whenever we were both on the night shift. She would have been a love interest had I not known that she was committed to another. Despite that, we both know how to draw laughter from each other and that made us look forward to conversations.

In the same year, my mate from part of primary school and the other part of high school, Tunji Jaiyeola, also put me on his bridal train. As a matter of fact, it was on his wedding day that Best Man Duty started, first as one or two episodes, then I expanded it and it got acclaim so I kept writing till life happened and I could not keep up or end it the way I wanted to.

I feel old these days and when I see folks on the Bridal Train do the things I and my people did back then, I just smile and remember how it was when my ‘set’ also actively took part in Bridal Train duties. How the babes would dress to impress, and sometimes overdo that they end up looking like masquerades. I also remember how the guys would walk with different types of ‘shakomended’ posings, possibly to catch the attention of the babes and all.

Link-ups happened o, let us not lie. Some ended well and some ended ‘very well’. Some ships sailed but some caught fire before they could sail at all. It is part of life, and part of the process.

Today, I took a look at the ‘Ladies in Wardrobe’, as friends of the bride are called these days and I knew they were having the time of their lives. Perhaps, there could be one or two who will write the perfect story, you know those stories about their wedding starting from meeting at a wedding.

Let me go to bed after the exertions of the last 24 hours plus which saw me go to Ikorodu to ‘pluck a beautiful flower’. Meanwhile, I love love stories and I am looking for one like that since I cannot write mine that way again. Over to you Nifemi *picks race*

TIME AT THE LEBANESE ENCLAVE – Broiler Brouhaha and The Exit

The five pens we called B.B1 changed name to Broiler Unit 6. All of us who were shipped to the Broiler department approached that stage with uncertainty. This was due to the major fact that we were coming from a place where we were given rest of mind to get our ‘hard’ tasks done to another place where they carried simple work as if it was more than that.

Like they say, “When in Romans, you act like Romans”. We gradually aligned with the system of operation in that department and unit. The people lived and worked with their hearts in their mouths, which was strange to those of us just coming from Broiler Breeder. Our boss at the old department would allow you to express yourself and work without unnecessary issues but we were constantly watching our backs at this new place.

This was where work became a hard sport. I no longer looked forward to going to work because I was unsure of what problem we would have to settle. I worked with a boss who was not as charming as the initial one and while it was no problem because I did not go to the place to make friends with the boss, it sort of affected my output.

“You guys should be up and doing. I don’t want that girl saying different things to me or insulting me because of you.”

I don’t know how he copes these days but the guy lived in constant fear of Hanna and that was enough to piss one off. I wondered how the people who had worked with him before we joined them coped with that kind of toxic environment. Much as I wondered, I understood that they had very little choice because jobs were hard to come by.

The comfort for me in all of these challenges was that there was an exit plan in place for me already. I have had the good fortune of having great people in my corner and this made it easy for me to plan my exit. As I stepped into the Lebanese enclave on 1^st March 2010, I had a plan to stay for a maximum of five years and God Almighty was kind enough to make this happen.

Yesterday, I was narrating to my Dad how Hanna called me an illiterate one day. As calm as I can be, I almost lost it. What happened? She was looking for a particular thing, a part of one of our pressure machines which we use in washing out pens after production. The same thing she was looking for had been taken away to another unit but she would not listen to anyone. Next thing, she started screaming.

“Yalla Seye, come here. Where is the washing machine gun? Where is it? You cannot look for it? Why are you all like this?”

She was shrieking, screaming, shouting, and just raving like someone who had lost it all. I could not even answer.

“Yalla! I used to think you are different. You are an illiterate like the rest of them. Illiterates!”

I just kept quiet and walked away. She came around the following afternoon and greeted me. I ignored her greeting and she started grumbling. I picked part of her words.

“I don’t know why they all do as if I am wicked. I am not a witch. They are all lazy”

Her terrible attitude had no boundaries. She had instilled the same fear in Managers too so it was not as if it was only Attendants and Supervisors that suffered. From 2010 to 2014, I never heard my former boss call me names or insult us. He had times when he got angry but he would not use insulting words on us. If that happened behind my back, it means nothing to me because I did not hear it directly. I wish Hanna and the direct bosses who work with her could try a different approach with those working with them instead of making them fearful and distraught with work. They just work to earn their pay, not that they are committed or see themselves as a part of the main thing happening in their units.

My exit was planned for December 2015 and I was eagerly looking forward to it. The last six months were even more challenging. On Saturday in August, I had finished my shift and was about to leave when my Manager came and said I could not go because “Iya is in a foul mood”. The word ‘Iya’ is one he uses for Hanna sometimes. I could not make sense of it. Why would I not leave my shift because Hanna was angry? Did I not do what was expected of me?

I obeyed and stayed back but it was frustrating. I knew Hanna was not behind my delay but my Manager was just being mischievous. All that is in the past but I became even more fed up at that time. It made me wonder what people who had been in the department for years had gone through. If I who joined in less than six months could complain this much, these people would have accepted it as their fate. Some of those who were to be sacked from the Broiler Department were absorbed by my old boss who would ensure that their challenges with that department did not put them out in the already saturated job market.

Those six months from June to December had me working every day of the week but I had my goal in front. The finish line was smiling at me so I endured. The stress got to me and I broke down a day to Sallah in 2015. I had to leave work and go back home. My Oga did not reach out until the following morning, and all he asked was if I would be able to make it down to work. That was the final straw for me. I knew The Almighty had plans for me to leave that place, and everything was working in that direction.

My exit was carefully planned over eight months. I was to join up with my friend who we partnered together with a family member to start our Agribusiness. When it was time, I just applied for my annual leave and took a bow. My Oga called me that it was time to resume but I told him I was out of town, to resume a few days later. On that day, I came with my resignation letter.

Oga said it did not come as a surprise but I knew he was jolted. I served him that letter in front of the Central Store and left with my head held high. If need be, I can easily walk into the Lebanese Enclave today because I left on good terms with nearly everyone. Although some will not like us still but we stay doing our thing in our way.

Oh, I met Hanna at the Ring Road Mall one day and she paused to see if I would say hello. I looked her in the eye and walked past her. I don’t do pretence abeg. If you’re a rubbish person, waka your own make I waka my own. I also met with my immediate boss at the wedding of one of my people, Kemi Rukayat, I said hello. While he has his wahala, I see him as a victim of whatever it is that is disturbing him and many others who fear where the next meal will come from. I remain cordial with many people whom I met in the course of my five-year journey at the place, and I still see many of them as family.

Tomorrow, weddings, bridal trains and Best Man Duties…