Ginger's Blog

I've been Google Plused :/

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Thu, 23 Feb 2012 00:09:00 +0000

One of the times I wish i had a Twitter account so i can rant in short sentences.

1. Why is Google forcing us to use Google+. Google friend Connect for blogging and Facebook were perfectly alright for me..till blogging starts paying I can't afford to spend more time on social media than I do right now.

2. I don't get the circles thing joo. Well I do sort of (I understand sets and subsets from those Maths days). Some people are strictly friends, some can be friends and following, Some friend and family, Some friend, following and family. Just that its tiresome. Feel like making friends all over again.
Google+ can never become another Facebook or Twitter. Yeah I said it and I am ready to swallow my words with a glass of bitter lemon if it does.

3. Google+ interface is weird or should i say not attractive or maybe Zuckerberg has got us all Faceblued. Google you can't afford to be slow with your changes like you are on Blogger. See, it took you almost 3 yrs to introduce threaded comments. Enough said.

Notwithstanding, I still love Google. Imagine if we all had to pay for the awesome services they give for free. Eg. Gmail - I use Outlook on my laptop and with Gmail which pulls mail (sort of what a blackberry does) so i can work on my mail online or offline. Yahoo requires you to subscribe and pay for that service.

Google docs - I used the free Survey software to do my thesis. Thankfully a friend recommended it before i spent 28 pounds for the same service on Survey Monkey. Moreover they offer you some large gigabyte of space to store your documents..all for free.

Picasa - Stores all my pics
Blogger - Blogger just keeps getting better and better. True. They really listen

So here I am saying Thank you Google. You are the Pied piper, I am the mouse. where you go, I follow :)

Meanwhile Where are you all? Can you write your handle on Google+ so I can follow or befriend, or familia-rise, whatever you want.

Update it seems it's not yet compulsory to use Google + but i heard the Google connect thingy is closing and when i clicked on someone's blogger profile it took me straight to Google+. I have since realised hers was a random case but yeah I am on Google plus now anyways.

Fame and other drugs

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Sat, 18 Feb 2012 01:40:00 +0000

Girl meets Boy. They fall in love. They get married.

All is hunky dory at the beginning.

Then Boy’s career nose dives

As Girl’s career soars

Girl is generous with her love and fame

Boy is generous with his smack and crack

She used to say ‘no’

But familiarity breeds temptation

And her demons – career, sexuality, media, marriage demanded a sacrifice

She succumbs.

Begins to enjoy the false calm

One day she wakes up to realize she can’t live without it –

Hello Drug addiction.

Defined as, compulsive drug seeking and abuse despite the known harmful effects upon functioning in the context of family, health, school, work, and recreational activities.

I’d been meaning to write a post about addiction and there’s no better time than now as we mourn the loss of my all time favorite female singer Whitney Houston. I can just picture those lips quaver as they open wide to belt out a tune.

Michael and Whitney are the only singers I have even gone on my knees to pray for. They were the icons of my childhood. When I listen to X factor hopefuls that is the only criterion I judge them with…can I recognize that voice from a thousand others? Are you a Whitney/Mariah/Michael? Sigh.

I kept hoping she’d rise from the ashes of addiction. I kept waiting for that comeback hit. I truly believed she could do it.

My opinion resonates with many about the cause of death – A bad Brown decision made in 1997. But then there are those who insist that we should stop blaming Bobby. That she always had a choice, after all they’ve been divorced since 2007.

Well, they are equally right – I don’t blame Bobby Brown really. He is who he is. It was the choice she made to love him and loose herself that breaks my heart.

Doug Sellman of the National Addiction Center (US) says that the most important thing to know about addiction may be that addiction is "fundamentally about compulsive behavior". Secondly, such habits originate outside of consciousness. The compulsive sequence of behaviors are so practiced that they can be extremely difficult to avoid initiating, and even harder to interrupt.

I think that makes a lot of sense. It explains why relapses occur. You see, going cold-turkey might rid the body system of the drugs and eliminate physical dependence but the compulsive behavior, basic instincts are harder to kill.

We don’t really talk much about substance abuse in Nigeria yet it is so pervasive (as usual we pretend it doesn’t happen; just like we think 14yr olds are not sexually active). A public health issue that’s silently destroying youth and homes. Marijuana is the drug of choice and though it is illegal to possess it in Nigeria, I can wager that 60% of our law enforcement officers (police) ON DUTY will not pass a urine test ..just saying.

“Marijuana intoxication can cause distorted perceptions, impaired coordination, difficulty with thinking and problem solving, and problems with learning and memory. Research has shown that, in chronic users, marijuana's adverse impact on learning and memory can last for days or weeks after the acute effects of the drug wear off.² As a result, someone who smokes marijuana every day may be functioning at a suboptimal intellectual level all of the time.

Think of the irrational shootings carried out by police - Are those actions of a ‘normal’ functioning person?

Area boys? - most of the petty thieving and violence going on is just to fund their drug use.

The rich ones are not left out. Bright futures that have been buried in the ashes of Igbo/marijuana/dope. I know friends who are battling sibling-drug addiction in their families. A friend said jewelry and electronics are not safe in her house anymore..cause if her brother is broke and in need of a fix, better be sure he is going to steal and sell whatever he can lay his hands on.

Back in the , of Ibro, a friend at University who came from a wealthy home. He used to be this sharp dresser, fine dude. By his final year, he was a shadow of himself. Ibro walked around campus with uncombed hair, flip flops and wrinkled shirts. From this gentle smooth talker he became loud and confrontational. I don’t know what happened to him case our paths diverged at this point. He frightened me. I’m not sure he graduated.

Drug addiction also hits uncomfortably close to home. I have close kin battling with addiction. This made me a bit too familiar with marijuana. I could easily identify the sweet/sour smell of marijuana from a mix of smells by the time I was 14. It used to shock male friends, they prolly thought I was doping. Lol. Nah, I could never be tempted. I have seen firsthand the havoc it causes.

I remember finding out that an ex bf smoked cannabis. I came across a drawer filled with the dry leaves in his apartment!!! Not funny.

However, he argued that “he’s been smoking marijuana for relaxation since he was 14 and was not dependent on it. If it was that bad, he wouldn’t have graduated first class nor hold an executive position in a top notch firm’.

Me: Ha..and you have a drawer-full of leaves to ensure you don’t ever run out at midnight. Dependence pls!!

By the time we broke up I could even tell when he was under influence from the way he professed love to me. smh

He quit his job over 7 years ago and has been sorta-loafing about since then as self employed. I’m not knocking his independence I am just convinced that his ‘failure to launch’ is tied to drugs. Cos yeah, he smokes full time now.

Interestingly cannabis isn’t as addictive as heroin and cocaine. Only 9% of users become addicted but this number increases to 17% for those who start young and up to 50% among daily users.

Adverse effects: A number of studies have shown an association between chronic marijuana use and increased rates of anxiety, depression, and schizophrenia.

If you’ve ever seen drug abuse up close and personal, watched movies like Sugarhouse, Trainspotting, Blow, or celebrities – Elvis, Marilyn, Dorothy Dandridge, Britney Spears, Lindsay Lohan then you’d applaud countries like China, Singapore and Malaysia’s for their death penalty rule for drug traffickers.

The difference between the murderer with a gun and the one who lures the innocent into drug taking is aesthetics. A Gunshot is instant and leaves a bloody mess while Drugs have a long term collateral damage.

Addiction isn’t incurable, but the addict can’t do it by himself. God, unwavering family support, empathy but not tolerance, resilient good health, change of environment and the addict’s resolve are integral to the long long journey to recovery.

Adieu Whitney and thank you for the greatest love songs!

Do you think drug use can actually be managed like ?

Love makes the world a better place

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Tue, 14 Feb 2012 14:25:00 +0000

Hey people. Getting your love groove on huh? To all the loved up bloggers hmmm...may you be loved and cherished in return.

For my single folks...Jesus loves you so does Ginger. now pass it forward :p

Sharing with you one of my favorite musical videos from 'Freshly ground' a South Afrikan group. I love their use of colour as a metaphor for differences.

Anyways, have a love-filled day.

Sigh. Going to have a Val-ala-phone day :(

Pee-pee drama

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 21:08:00 +0000

A friend of mine constantly moans about her 7 month old son’s package. I am always in giggles whenever she is changing his diapers or giving him a birth, cause she seizes the poor appendage and cries ‘Lord, how do you want this boy to impregnate his wife in future? I want grandchildren oo.

Then she later conciliates with ‘ Size doesn’t matter my boy. Don’t you fret’ like the boy knows there’s a problem. In fact while she is going on and on, he is fondling his pinch of a penis and gurgling happily (why do little baby boys like playing with their pee pee?)

Anyways I thought she exaggerated (what do I know?!). But after the last weekend, I am worried too.

In case you are wondering, that blue thingy is a pee-pee teepee -
supposed to save mommy/daddy from getting peed on during diaper changes..smh

A friend and his 4 yr old son came visiting while I was bathing baby boy (mom was out and I love getting my hands on him any chance I get). Lil Johnny came to my side and watched as I massaged in Vaseline lotion on his trunk. He looked and looked, then with a puzzled frown asked ‘Aunty what is that? Pointing to my adopted son’s package!

Ehh how do you answer to this?! I didn’t want to say ‘penis’ cause I wasn’t sure what ‘politically correct’ nonbiological word the parents have taught him. Nor did I want to introduce him to a new word and spend the next 30 minutes answering curious penial questions.

So I threw back the answer at him ‘Come on Johnny. Baby is a boy. Isnt your own the same? He said, “No, it doesn’t look like mine, mine is bigger and longer”.

I burst into laughter.

Nonsense!

Enemies!

I retold the conversation to Lil pee wee’s mom. Poor gal. Now she is even more worried.

Who knows if penile elongation creams work? It should be more effective when the male is young shouldn’t it? Lol!

So just wondering..do you moms/dads out there worry about your son’s package/peepee?

What are the politically correct names for little boy’s penis?

Lastly, why do we need politically correct terms when a perfectly respectable biological term 'penis' exists?

Dream Interpreter needed

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 23:05:00 +0000

I didn’t realise how recent news from Nigeria had eaten into my psyche till I had two vividly graphic and violent dreams two consecutive nights last week.

When you think of a creek/fishing community..what scenery comes to mind? Lush Green vegetation, fish, fresh water reflecting the trees, fishing vessels, hamlets and small time fish industries right?

That’s not what you find in Bodo creek, Ogoniland.

Earlier on Wednesday evening, I came across a video review by Amnesty International about Bodo creek, Bayelsa since the 2008 Oil Spill by SHELL.

Photograph courtesy George Esiri/EPA/Commondreams.org

Shell’s spill has turned Bodo into a black and desolate wasteland and as usual the stakeholders (ward heads, local government councilors, governor, senators except the community directly involved) look away and pretend it isn’t their business. Where is Atedo Peterside who is lauding the good-work of their son - our President? I am sure the Bodo community share his joy in their elected son who has refused to put pressure on Shell to clear up their mess and compensate the 69,000 people who have lost their livelihood, water source and food. BP oil spill (5 million gallons) was cleaned up in months but in Bodo Creek, 4 years after nothing has been done.

Moreover it seems there is a new spill now. This report says that between December 20th and 21^st 2011, oil spewed from a ruptured fuel line connecting the Bonga platform to a waiting tanker. Before workers noticed the spill (how irresponsible), Shell said that up to 40,000 barrels (1.68 million gallons) had leaked, reportedly making it the worst offshore accident in Nigeria since 1988.

Can you calculate the crude oil waste and the ecological damage? Read more here and here. This is the video where Saraki threatens to use the Senate might to see that Shell cleans up. Yes he sounds very serious, I can see Shell quaking in their boots. Another wait and see?

On to the dreams...

Wednesday:

I was an onlooker watching two fishermen vie for speed supremacy on the creek waters. A sort of creek rage (akin to road rage) led to one of them ramming into the other and damaging the boat’s body. Then entered some militant looking men, who wade across to the victorious boat and drag the boatman out. The gorge out his arm using a knife, scooped the oily black water and poured it into the bloody hole. Graphic much! Then I woke up.

Thursday:

I was in some camp (which looked exactly like my dormitory in secondary school) when we came under attack from Boko Haram (the terrorist group throwing bombs in Nigeria). They hadn’t entered the dorm yet. My mom was in the next room asking everyone to come together and pray our last prayers that our deaths will be quick. I told her that I refuse to give up my life so easily. My bff and I considered going across to ask an elderly man occupying the room across the courtyard to pretend we were his wives but I said it would be dangerous for my fair friend who didn’t look Hausa. Then we decided to take our fate into our hands and fight. All of a sudden machine guns materialized n our laps.

I woke up so pepped with energy cause in my dreams we were making mincemeat of the terrorists Rambo styleeee…lol. Alas it was all a dream.

Occupy Nigeria: we're not done yet

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 15:24:00 +0000

I followed the unfolding events of the fuel subsidy strike this past 10 days mostly on TV. I watched aghast as a protester was manhandled then shot in front of other protesters in broad daylight (RIP). I listened to pro subsidy debates on the government sponsored media NTA and I wondered if the debaters were aliens from some neighbouring WA country.

I saw my respected friends doctors, bankers, take off their suits, don Tee shirts and walk on the streets protesting our corrupt government, Nigerians became mathematicians again challenging GEJ’s fuel prices/subsidy calculations in a manner which would have impressed Chike Obi, I saw courage which I thought had almost died, I heard young promising youth tell the nation that they were willing to die. I watched protesters cry, moan, pray, dance, laugh in unity for the first time in a long while. And it was beautiful.

Nigerians are finally waking up.

I was hopeful that we would get ‘satisfactory results’. Then NLC happened and the rug was swept from under our feet.

The Nigeria Labour Congress and the Trade Union Congress said they acted to save lives, after receiving information that the security forces had been ordered to use all means to end protests.

Really? They got a reduction to N97 per litre and a pat on the back and they sold the future of 160m Nigerians. I’m pained.

The unions also told journalists in Nigeria's capital Abuja that they applauded the government's recent promise to EXPLORE CORRUPTION in the country's oil sector. They described the six-day strike as "a success".

"We are sure that no government or institution will take Nigerians for granted again," said Abdulwaheed Omar, the NLC president.

Rightfully said but with all due respect Mr. Omar, you missed the point. ‘Explore corruption’ is the government’s polite euphemism for "Shut up retard" and you did….shut up I mean.

Occupy Nigeria is not just about the fuel hike as President Goodluck would like to believe. It is about lying thieving politicians blatantly stealing Nigeria blind.

Occupy Nigeria was not inspired by the rallying call of NLC but by young Nigerians who were fed up of same old, same old. Nigerians who would normally wait out a strike watching movies in the comfort of their homes. The NLC had the crème of workers and youth ON THE STREETS for the first time. Don’t the understand what power they had? How can they blow such an opportunity?!

But it’s not over.

Seeing Gbenga Sesan, Omohyele Sowore of Sahara reporters interviewed on Al Jazeera etc has shown me that in this social media age, where governments try to control news emerging from their Countries, media houses in search of truth now seek for credibility from bloggers and activists. Our senators salaries, GEJ’s home maintenance budget would probably never have seen the light of day in our dailies if bloggers/twitter users hadn’t made it trend. That information was the tipping point for many who joined the protest. (And of course the new reality of sweating in a ride through Lagos traffic - Sorry @tilola - because car air conditioning is now a luxury).

In this year 2012, we owe it to ourselves and our children to make Nigeria the country we want it to be. Yes, our blogs are personal spaces themed on fun things like fashion, food, relationships etc. but I think it is high time we see our blogs to be much much more. For the sake of Nigeria, let us be more concerned about what goes on in our country. Let us not be scared of making our collective voices heard.

A shoutout to Adura Ojo of Naijalines for her rallying call to Nigerian bloggers during the protest. And to Prism who kept up with almost daily updates.

I applaud all those who stepped out of their blog comfort zones to blog about Nigeria and engage on other social media sites but most especially to those who walked the talk.

Protests may have been silenced for now but it is not over yet. I leave you with Fela Durotoye’s words “The dream of a New Nigeria as a most desirable society remains firm in our hearts. We are stronger than this. We will not be broken. We are the New Nigeria and we will not stop until we Deliver the Future.

Protests: What was done well and what could have been done better?

GEJ Presidential Palace Subsidy Must End: Nigerian Bloggers' Protest

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 00:29:00 +0000

“The arguments being advanced to justify the proposed full deregulation do not make sense. All the arguments have a ring of deja vu.

The so-called complete deregulation of the downstream sector and the removal of subsidy may seem like a purely economic policy decision, but it is so tied to larger Nigerian questions that it ought to be more rigorously debated, and government should make haste slowly.

The regime is corruption-ridden, it is badly managed. There is no indication that a complete deregulation regime will be better managed. The problem is not one of form, but leadership”.

These were the words of Reuben Abati (a former activist/writer turned Government apologist) in 2009 when a similar fuel subsidy removal was proposed.

Three years after, the same arguments are being repeated by Goodluck Jonathan’s government.

According to The Economist

“The president will be a brave man if he fulfills his promise to end cheap petrol”.

I disagree.

GEJ will be a brave man if he tackles

Rebuilding the 4 moribound refineries which has failed other governments,

Similarly improving power supply to the nation

Investigating NNPC, its leakages, inflations and over-estimations

Passing a bill which makes corruption a criminal offence punishable by 14 years imprisonment

Cutting down the wages of government officials

Cutting down HIS personal and house maintenance budget.

And need I mention catching the fiends that go by the name Boko Haram who have made Nigeria a name now synonymous with terrorism.

Albert Einstein quotes “We can't solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them.”

Fuel subsidy is the solution of a lazy and inept government. It is the coward’s way out.

Do the needful, resolve these highlighted issues and come 2014 if your government seeks to ‘remove subsidy’ the people of Nigeria will support you. But not now.

A good friend of mine Wale quoted, “The amount of our collective resources you squander on a daily basis is more than sufficient to begin to rectify the problem and restore our faith in you. When we see you curb your gluttony and become more accountable, we will be more open to what sacrifice you are trying to extricate from us”.

P.S. It irks me to hear/see our politicians and reporters from the West tout the phrase ‘Nigeria’s cheap petrol’…I don’t know where they get that idea from. What is cheap about our petrol? Take a look at this graph and tell me how petrol is affordable to the common man?

Moreover, in none of these countries do citizens BUY THEIR OWN FUEL TO RUN GENERATORS WHICH IN TURN SUPPLY POWER TO RUN BUSINESSES, MACHINES IN FACTORIES, HOSPITALS, HOMES AND OFFICES!!!

Fuel is a constant in the budget of an average Nigerian and Nigerian business owner…and we are not talking of transport. Nigerians depend on refined fuel 100%. Fuel is a public utility.

P.P.S. I have seen the derisive sneer with which online activism is regarded by many in Nigeria. Pls dear blogger let that not deter you. Be counted. Let your voice be heard!
The sin of silence when they should protest makes cowards of men." Abraham Lincoln

What You can do

For a week starting from today, all Nigerian bloggers and other interested parties are enjoined to:

1. Do a similar post of your own on your blog using the title "GEJ Presidential Palace Subsidy Must End: Nigerian Bloggers' Protest"

2. Add the pic/tabled diagram in this post

3. Publish your post today or latest by tomorrow

4. Please allow for seven days on your blog or place in a prime position on your blog for seven days.

5. You can still play your part as a non-blogger: share on facebook, twitter and other relevant social media.

6. Journalists, use your media space.
7. If you've done a post or published elsewhere online, please leave a link at Naijalines. Thanks.

Protest initiated by 9jaFoodie, Naijalines.

Picture from Azeenarh

Reminiscing Christmas traditions

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 08:45:00 +0000

Hey BlogFam,

So Christmas day has come and gone but the season of jolly goodness is yet to expire...well 2 more days. All the long months of preparation, shopping, cooking, wrapping presents, work parties, Santa Claus visits for the kids, months of peace for the parents when the Santa Claus threat worked: (the ‘if you don’t behave Santa wont fill your stocking).

A couple of days before Xmas, I was visiting with my friend and her family. Amidst dinner preparations she squeezed in some Christmas baking. There was the mince pies which is quite easy to make. I’ve blogged about my love for mincepies before. She was also preparing ingredients for the traditional Xmas cake which she planned to bake overnight (8hrs). This included soaking the dried fruits - which make up 75% of the cake batter - in brandy at least 12hrs before use (she soaked hers for 12 minutes). She confessed that traditionally the Xmas cake is baked months before Xmas..infact sometimes a year before!! I called her modified recipe the 'time waits for no-one Xmas cake' recipe.

She was also going to make Xmas puddings the next day, this was the traditional Xmas dessert. She said that the Christmas menu was a tradition handed down to her by her gran which she hoped to hand down to her daughters. The eldest daughter had been summarily summoned to the kitchen to help mix the batter :).

The pudding is so rich in alcohol that it is usually ignited before serving.

Other food in the traditional Xmas menu are the roast turkey/geese eaten with vegatbles, brussels sprouts, roast potatoes, cranberry sauce, rich nutty stuffing, tiny sausages wrapped in bacon (pigs in a blanket) and hot gravy.

In the midst of the stories, she asks me what Christmas traditions we have in Nigeria. Hmmmm.

First off, I thought of the traditions we had in common which includes the activities that occur in the weeks before Xmas – the carol services (songs are sang in English and in local dialects, the exchange of cards, end of year work parties/xmas parties, nativity plays in schools, putting up of Xmas trees and decorations (while homes vie to have the best decorations in the West, in Nigeria the competition is left to commercial offices).

Then I remembered those particular to us.

Shopping for new dresses and shoes. Most kids in Nigeria are guaranteed two new outfits at Christmas time. the one worn on Christmas and New Year days respectively. Many a Christmas eve I would be found late in the evening in the market with my big sister trying to find news that fit my too long feet. There was no leaving of that market for me till i get my shoe!!

Travelling: Christmas isnt complete without travelling in Nigeria. The people of the Eastern part of Nigeria - where I come from - have a long standing tradition of spending the Xmas holidays in their home towns. We are the most travelled Nigerian tribe (anecdotally it is said that if you get to any town in Nigeria and you don’t find an Igbo person there ..then you should flee cos that town is a ghost town). So for the Ibos, the Xmas holidays is the time when all the sons and daughters in diaspora come back home. To reunite with kith and kin and peers. To flaunt new tokens of success (cars, phones, newly built mansions, etc). It is also a sort of coming out period for the single men and ladies. You know I aint lying :).

Red Christmas - While my western friend dreams of a white Christmas, we have a cold, dusty red one. Red from the wind blowing up the clayey soil which is found in the Eastern parts of Nigeria. After the long travel down to the village 3-9 hrs depending on what part of Nigeria you are coming from, vehicles usually have a thick layer of red dust. The passengers rarely escape this dust coating even if your windows were wound up during the drive. Somehow it just filters in. The green foliage also turn red cause of the dust. White outfits are only worn by the brave. Dusting the house? A twice daily affair. The cold dry air also ensures that lip balms and Vaseline intensive cream are constant companions during the Xmas Season.

The Food: Rice is a staple food in Nigeria eaten in most homes at least every other day..yet there is something special about Xmas rice. Be it jollof or fried or rice and stew. It always magically tastes nicer.

There is also a lot of meat eaten during the festivities. Families may buy a cow or share it with another family, goats (sorry NGIP), chicken and more recently turkeys are present at tables. Well fried or stewed.

Drinks were in abundance. Fizzy Coca brands, Juice, Malt drinks Wine, Beer. As a kid, it was only during Xmas you had unlimited access to drinks from the fridge and freezer.

Church: Midnight mass is usually wonderful. Most times the actual mass is over around 11pm, but cause it isn’t midnight yet, the congregation chill in church singing hymns and choruses to welcome the baby Jesus at midnight.

Fireworks: Come 1^st of December, people start buying their stash of fireworks for the Xmas. Proper firework displays while common in cities like Lagos, are still a rarity in the villages cos of safety issues, handling and the expense. What is commonly found is the banger which isnt exactly safer. A description of Salute shells in Wikipedia here fits what we call knockout : A shell intended to produce a loud report rather than a visual effect.

My favourite was the sparklers. Anyway the bangers get their 2 minutes of fame from 10pm Xmas eve reaching a crescendo at midnight (Xmas day). Then dangerous part begins - the throwing. The thrower usually strikes the cylindrical shells against a matchbox and throws them as far as possible from him/herself but the naughtier revellers deliberately threw them at people’s feet. Or worse bodies. Their usual victims were those returning from Xmas midnight service. The air becomes rent with bangs, screaming girls and running feet. It was crazy, dangerous and ..... fun. I doubt that those who have burn scars will agree with me.

Entertainment: There are traditional marriages to attend, the launch of a new dance by particular women/men groups, Churches also hold their bazaar and harvest sales then too cause they are guaranteed to make money off their 'August visitors'.

Up to a decade ago, Masquerades were also part and parcel of the Xmas celebrations. The masks were usually worn by a particular sect/family. Some masquerades danced for money, some just wanted to display their costume. Some (ie. Nwaulaga) flogs anybody who dares to stand in his presence. Fleeing from Nwaulaga was the bane of my childhood existence during the Xmas holidays. I got flogged twice :(

Little Terrors: The most interesting thing about Xmas day is that I rarely dined at home. Rather I'd dress up in my new fineries and together with my cousins, start a busy day of personal fundraising (gbaara m christmas) - the best part of Xmas!!

Its like this, on Xmas day, I dress up in my new finery and with my group of friends (usually cousins) we visit our Aunties, Uncles, Family friends, etc. At each house the Ma and Pa "Uh oh" over how much we’ve grown since they last saw us, ask after our parents and even give us some message to relay back to them (no cellphone dem days!). The ever ubiquitous rice is served, fizzy drinks, biscuits. The richer families also served chin-chin and cake. After eating, we thank them prettily and signal our intention to leave, at which the father/mother of the house hands out money to us kids. Over the years (7yrs-13yrs) we knew the homes who cooked the best rice, gave the best financial reward or who entertained least.

My mom was the chin-chin and cake type entertainer ..lol (not cause we were rich..she just felt it was less messy). She was also known for giving out brand new Naira notes to her little guests (notes deliberately obtained from the bank prior to travel).

In retrospect, we must have been little terrors, unrelenting in our gbaara m christmas quest, accosting our older single cousins at pubs, along the road until they gave in and dipped into their wallet. For the guys it was best to harass them when they had their friends with them.

At the end of the day, heaving from exertion and too much food, my cousins and I will climb atop the roof of this uncompleted house in the compound to share our loot. Woot! Woot!

I remember that those days our parents rarely asked us where we were going to or when we'll be back - we were 8yr olds!! Curfews cease to exist in the village. I guess they were safe in the knowledge that we were surrounded by kith and kin. I'd come back home at 12 midnight and my dad doesn’t raise an eyebrow assuming I was at my cousins. Well, I was usually :p

The Xmas eating, drinking and fundraising continues till the New year. By the 2^ndof January, like magic the village empties as people return to the cities whence they came. By the 5^th day, the villages become ghost towns again inhabited by the aged and retirees.

Christmas celebrations have changed in the last decade. The food and church service remain the same but visitations are greatly reduced with kids properly chaperoned (the spate of kidnappings in villages and an increased belief in juju/voodoo amongst Christian folk isnt helping matters). Many families don’t even travel home for Xmas any more becos of beliefs that something evil might befall them cos of scheming/jealous kith and kin. The masquerades are also a thing of the past as Christian societies deemed them demonic and urged for their ban.

A shame really.

My family still travels home for Xmas. Dad is a die-hard traditionalist who has never spent the Xmas holiday outside his hometown, to please him, we the kids have to keep making that effort to come home for Xmas. Nowadays I too, like my mom, fill my purse with mint naira notes to give out to my younger cousins :)

In the end, be it roast turkey and pudding or Jollof rice or Tortellini in brodo (Italy), la reveillon (France), Hogmanay(Scotland) …the key ingredients of the Christmas celebrations around the world are Christ, love and sharing. I pray we never loose sight of that.

May Charity, Hope and Love make their home in your heart this New Year!!

In which I get a proposal

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 00:38:00 +0000

I got this love letter this morning:

To my darling Ginger,

You are the sugar in my tea, the baby wen dey make my heart beat pu pu pu. If I no fit tell you korokoro eye make I put am in writing you this letter.

I look you every day you walk through our yard. Na wa ooh my tongue dey always hang out. So now that you know will you marry me? I will make a good husband and you the mother of our plenty children. I see you have the back for it.

Your handsome loving man(husband)

Chidioke Bigman*

Always look back when I dey whistle to call you na

Toinlicious, what do you have to say?

#Update on Kat

The late Kat actually left a suicide note in which she bid adieu to her family and friends and all who have met and loved her. She tried to explain that she has always had this darkness engulfing her and had tried so hard to escape it but couldn’t and at this point was unable to fight it anymore. I guess this is depression with a capital D!

I will still reiterate this ‘May her soul now find the peace that eluded her on earth, Amen. And may we be better shepherds Amen. And if you can..try and think generous thoughts about her.

MJ’s Property auctioned…. well some

Some of the contents of Michael Jackson’s home sold at an auction raked in over $1,000,000. Three times their original cost. Apart from inflation, I trust that his die fans will be willing to fork over their last savings to get their hands on his bits and pieces!

Wonder if this is to settle his debts or because the family are digging for gold.

Anyway, me I want his wig!!! I'm sure its Peruvian.

RIP Kim Jong IL
This hasn’t been a good year for sit-tight leaders (sadhappyface) But while I was expecting dancing in the streets .. like what happened when Abacha died, I saw a nation in deep mourning for Kim Jong.

Emotions so intensely expressed that it had me rotflol. Believe me I was almost ready to bet with a friend that these were professional mourners hired to make the guy look good. You see I had bought into the Western media’s propaganda which told me the deceased was a tyrant and reviled by his people who were in bondage. Maybe he was but his people ‘adored’ him in spite of his excesses it seems or like someone commented “I think the people are genuinely in mourning. He is their religion”.

I think the face of the guy with a red scarf was photo-shopped

I think my second shocker was seeing such intense emotion on East Asian faces. Korea and neighbours China and Japan are known to have deadpan expressions. So it was just strange to see men and women dancing and throwing themselves on the ground ‘African stylee’. #StereotypeFail.

As for the successor to the North Korean throne, Jong-un, can he please lay off the doughnuts plss.

Yes We know its Christmas

A group of unemployed local musicians in South Africa have joined forces to release a Christmas single, entitled ‘Yes we do,’ in response to the Bob Geldof inspired Band Aid song, ‘Do they know it’s Christmas?’ Speaking at the launch of their song, the composer and singer Boomtown Gundane praised Geldof’s relentless quest for an answer and said they hoped their collaboration would free the Irishman and his friends to start looking for solutions to new and more important questions.

“Like, Do they know about climate change in America? Or did Kim Jong-il have time to write down the abort codes for the nukes before he died? (very important question I must say lol).

He said despite the poverty and hunger that had inspired Geldof and his friends to create the song back in 1984, Africans had developed their own ways to remember Christmas.

‘Just because we don’t have Boney M or Christmas advertising in September doesn’t mean we are oblivious to it,’ said Gundane. Proceeds will go towards teaching discipline, literacy and contraception at British schools. Touche Gundane!! LOL.

RivieraHandbags Giveaway

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 00:07:00 +0000

Hey BlogFam,

Here’s me advertising a giveaway hosted by Riviera Hand bags named after the lovely English Riviera, the hometown of the maker.

They have a most delightful collection of bags. With categories like wild, passionately pink, evening, fun, everyday, office there is definitely a bag for everybody and any season

What do you have to do to get one? Well, if we all got a dollar for our tweets and retweets I’m sure we’ll be smiling to the bank J

So here’s your chance to let twitter work for you!

Follow Rivierahandbags on twitter here

Retweet their giveaway tweets to enter the draw.

The winner gets to select a bag of your own choice!!!! How cool is that?

Start following and tweeting nooow!!

Giveaway ends Dec 24th (look what Santa e-mailed me!)

Errr. Its restricted to UK residents. Sorry.

Like Rivierahandbags on Facebook here

You were f**king perfect to me

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 22:14:00 +0000

I coerced my girlfriend to attend the Doctors' Xmas Ball yesterday. So I could tag along and maybe meet some cute doctors, who knows lol

Well, they were certainly respectable cute-looking young doctors. They also came with significant others hanging on their arms. What is it with Brits and marrying early? I swear some of them didn’t look like they had celebrated their 25^th birthday and they had been married for 3 years.

Jat introduced me to her group and I got on brilliantly with the Zimbabwean chic by my side. Like the pea soup appetiser was so bland that simultaneously we looked up from the first sip and screamed ‘Argghh SALT!!!’. Then when the salt shaker was passed to us, it came with a single pin-sized hole. What’s that?? It would take forever to get a pinch out. So I pulled the bottom off and we salted to our heart’s content #teamAfrica.

The roast potato with gravy, steak and ham plus the cheesecake desert more than made up for the bland appetizer. Yum yum.

Then the DJ set up his gig and it was Dance! Dance!

I was itching to dance but the Docs on my table were just sitting and tapping fingers. What’s that??

So I took the hand of the male doc nearest to me. ‘hey I want to dance and I need a partner…lol. Not that my 6 inch heel let me do much damage to the dance floor but I tried. At a point Tat and I had to get together to do some afro-flavored boot-shaking…ok, not like I had the booty but you understand..

Finally at about 11.30pm I reminded Jat she had a husband and kids..lol.
As we waited for Tat to get her coat so we could all leave together, (Jat had volunteered to take her home), one of J’s colleague/friend, a petite brunette, Kat came over to chat. She had this little black dress on with a tutu-like ruffles at the hem. I told her her dress was pretty. She teased Jat about her bootylicious behind. Jat did some booty gyrations specially for her with Kat and I giggling and asking her to donate some to the less privileged.

As we said goodbye Jat warned her to take it easy with the alcohol so she won’t be hungover at work the next day. She laughed and said she’ll try.

It was a great outing and subsequently I have been in a good mood most of today. All that dancing and exercising and socializing really does good to the heart.

But I am sad now.

Jat came back from work a couple of hours ago looking most harassed.

She said ‘Guess what?

Kat is dead.

What!!! How??!!

It appears Nat, Kat’s friend had told Jat earlier that Kat has been AWOL all day. Not picking her phone too. None of their mutual friends had also heard from her.

So Nat decides that after their seminar that she’ll call the porter to check Kat’s room or something. Just in case.

They went to her room in the doctors quarters. The porter unlocked the door with the spare key and pushed open the door but found it difficult cause - there was a hanging body leaning against it.

Kat.

And the friend went into hysterics. They said Kat was still in the short black gown. And her body quite stiff, so she must have been dead for a long time.

Nobody knows why she decided to escape her life.

They say she had had a recent breakup with her boyfriend. Who had left her for her friend. (What is it with guys????). She hadn’t been coping well with the breakup coupled with a family history of depression. But she had also been looking forward to spending some time with her mom and jnr sister during the Xmas break.

I wonder if all the lovey dovey xmasy couples in the house yesterday could have tripped her off? Or maybe a combo of alcohol and anti-depressive drugs. Or the stress of being a young doctor. Or a combination of the above or something else entirely.

It’s heartbreaking.

This is the nearest I have come to suicide and it’s scary that someone laughing and dancing 12 hrs ago could think she wasn’t loved enough.

Jat wonders about the mom….who must have been preparing for a family reunion at Xmas but will now be planning a funeral.

Plus the guilt. ‘Was it something I said/did?’. ‘Maybe if I had called her last night, this morning, maybe maybe I could have talked her out of it etc etc.

So many fragile souls out there; dear God bless them and make them strong in the face of challenges. Help us too to be better shepherds. Amen.

RIP Kat

p.s. Post title was borrowed from Pink's track of same name. Do pardon my French.

This is Oyiboland - Where 70 is the new 40

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Tue, 13 Dec 2011 00:25:00 +0000

Ginger: Hi Doc. How was your day today?
Doctor Z: Busy and funny too. The youngest patient i saw came to complain about her Mom who lives with her. She said her Mom was driving her bonkers.
The joke - She is 72. Her mom is 94.

If you go to the bus station at off peak periods (between 10am-1pm), the white brigade as I fondly call them make up the majority of passengers. The men in their black or brown coats; the ladies well powdered in their sweaters, pleated skirts and Clark shoes. The women remind me so much of my mom. Now I understand some of her 'odd' habits which seemed so out of place while growing up: Mom was a sweater and pleated skirt, hair in curlers, lipstick, tea and biscuits-in-all-weathers type. I guess those were habits picked when she was in the UK that never wore off.

I always have a big smile when I meet the White Brigade. They are usually a very friendly lot....you are not careful and a talkative gets you in his/her clutches, you might find it hard to extricate yourself. But more than that..they make aging something to look forward to. They have lived 70+years on earth. You want to sit at their feet and hear their adventures.
I am also filled with admiration sometimes. When I see that old man struggling to take that next step with his walker. I smile at the effort he makes to stay alive. I smile at the government, the society that allows them to age gracefully. S/he has his pensioner bus tickets that allows him ride free, S/he has disabled parking if needed. S/he has homes with basic amenities that are helpful as bones get stiffer (running taps, showers, microwaves, waist length gas cookers, washing machines). And when s/he is tired she can move on to a home (subsidised by the govt or paid for in full). Care work is a popular job among immigrants but it also represents the importance the society places on making them live as independently and gracefully as possible.

The Nigerian consensus has always been that Western society do not take care of their old like we do etc etc. Surely we have all heard the horrible stories of aged men/women who were dead for over 4 days in their apartment before their frozen bodies were discovered or of parents in Care homes who never get visited by their kids. And we would say, 'that could never happen in Nigeria'. 'Neighbours would have checked in on her, infact there's no way s/he would have been on her own cos one of the kids would have taken her into her home' etc etc.
But I wished to look at this from a different angle. As much as i admire our sense of community in Nigeria, I've also come to appreciate the independence I see among the elderly here, and wonder at some of the things we take for granted back home...that our mothers will drop their personal schedules to come babysit, wash and cook for 'OUR' families even in cold wintry UK/US.

Don't we have parents who want to spend their old age enjoying the new phase of their life/marriage after raising 7 kids? Maybe they want to travel together, start a new hobby, join a social club etc. Knotchocolates even blogged about 'over 60s getting it on' and if you've ever visited Blog mom's page, you'd know age is nothing but a number but in Nigeria we tend to think our parents - esp moms, become asexual by 60.
While the majority don't mind becoming occupational grannys i am writing for the sake of those who prefer to see their kids and family thrice in a year not 345 days a year. i think we kids should try and be a bit more understanding and stop laying the guilt or worse...refuse to care for them (money matters) cause she is not fulfilling her 'grandma' quota.

Babysitting sadly is the least of the problems the aged face. Some are abandoned by their kids. forgotten, mistreated, labelled witches/wizards, left to beg for food. For some their kids thither over paying for their healthcare and/or necessary surgeries and are left to die alone.
And how about the absence of running water, electricity, kerosene stoves which make it nigh impossible for an aged person to be independent. Really sad.

Have you had to deal with elderly parents, relatives or friends. What thoughts about aging did it inspire in you?

p.s. My maternal grandma spent the last 20 yrs (75-95)of her life with us. She and her only kid my mom had their ups and downs but it was mostly peaceful co-habiting. On the other hand, in retrospect I think we her grandkids tolerated her mostly..and found her amusing at best.
p.p.s. Maybe I find it easy to wag my finger cos I am not expecting babysitting duties from my mom. In her hay days her 'omugwo' visits to my siblings never lasted for more than 10 days cause she was working. Now she is definitely too old for that kinda stress. Yeah I know I am on my own #notscared.

omugwo - is a tradition amongst Eastern Nigerians wherein the maternal grandma comes to help her daughter care for the newborn grandchild. Her visit has precedence cause mothers are expected to be more helpful to their daughters than a mother-in-law.
In Western Nigeria, the paternal grandma's visit has more precedence since the child belongs to the family.
Visits can be as short as a week or as long as 6months :(

p.p.s Shoutout to my new followers. I can't believe I've finally passed the 100 followers mark (dances a jig!)
Also thank you for all the comments in the last post. That post was a bit personal though i didnt let on :). Well, lets see....

Mixed Blessings

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Sat, 03 Dec 2011 00:35:00 +0000

Is Marriage for White People? That's the title of a book written by a Stanford law professor Ralph Richard Banks (an African American married to an African American - I like how he puts that out before the haters start questioning his right to make such a proclamation). Alas I am yet to read the book but from the reviews I have read here, here and here it was all heart, backed by personal narratives and data.

His question is 'In an economy where women are thriving and desirable black men are scarce, why do black women stay loyal to black men to their detriment?'

These include:

large numbers of professional black women being rotated by the 'few' college educated black men who gets to pick and choose who he wants to be with and even then he still has multiple sex partners
almost half of all black women have had an abortion, over twice the rate for white women;
2 black women graduate from college every year for every black male that graduates;
black men out-marry (i.e., marry interracially) at over twice the rate of black women;
there are two million more black women in America than black men;
higher rates of sexually transmitted diseases when compared against other groups of women due to the high incidence of `man-sharing' that occurs among black women;

And his ~~solution~~ well, suggestion is 'Black women should liberate themselves from the shackles of race and date outside the pool'.

I wholeheartedly agree with him though I wonder why we need a Stanford law professor to tell us that? What is it about marrying outside our races, tribes that scares black women?

This isn't the first time I have read or listened to people write/talk about the dearth of eligible black men for black women in America and I used to wonder.. 'but there are other men?!!..Chinese, Indian, Africans, you haven't exhausted your options yet.

I have reframed this problem in our society. Kindly substitute Black women for Ibo, Yoruba and Hausa women and think about the Nigerian environment. Yes, that tribe thing. Maybe its not as pervasive as before but I do know I have single girlfriends who swear that they can never marry a non-igbo/non-Yoruba etc etc.

Interestingly I think this outlook is more common to Ibo women than other tribes yet we are the ones who have a man-scarcity. College educated Ibo men are a minority compared to the majority who are secondary school leavers (though thriving businessmen). From what I have observed/personal experiences, the Ibo men who are good income earning graduates tend to feel like they are 'something special'. Correct me if I am wrong.

I used to think like 'Warrahell? Who said I can't fish across the River Niger' msheew.

So lets reason together, what are the fears of marrying outside our comfort zone be it - Race/Language/Geographical zone?

Off hand I can think of these few points:

Culture. Someone from another race/tribe won't understand the basic parts of black/Igbo/Yoruba/Benin/Tiv life and culture. It may seem trivial at first especially if the dating/married mixed couple are living in a cosmopolitan city. then bang, one day you travel home with your hubby and like a chameleon he suddenly expects you to kneel down and serve him food and you wonder but 'he wasn't like that before'!

Different standards of beauty: For the inter-racial couple, she may feel like you are competing on a different standard of beauty. He is used to blondes/redheads/brunnetes with blue/green/hazel/gray eyes and long wavy hair, now he has you brown chocolate from your eyes, nipples to your happily nappy hair which has not seen the sunlight in oinks because of permanent extensions). Same for the woman who has to exchange her ideal of Denzel W for a Ryan Reynolds.

(On a lighter note, I am yet to be toasted(chatted up) by a Briton. Infact it has become a mission for me. Silly I know, but I need affirmation that my beauty is universally accepted. lol).

Food: She'd have to widen her cooking skills to accommodate what is cultural for the other person. Igbo girl learning to make ewedu/amala. Yoruba girl learning to make oha soup. Nigerian girl learning to make lamb casserole for her British hubby etc (Lucidlilith gives me great comfort that all food is acceptable so long as its cooked right).

Skin color. Yeah that is the simplest to overcome yet the most conspicuous reminder of the boundaries you have bridged in an inter-racial relationship. Even though love has blinded you the world wont let you forget as easily...i think and they may not be polite about it.

Religion: A change of religion maybe part of the bargain. Christian marrying Muslim, Muslim marrying Hindu, Vampire marrying Human (lolsssssss) etc. Blog mom Linda has blogged about her daughter who is married to an Iranian. She (daughter) even converted to Islam; and she can speak Farsi (Iran's official language) and Arabic too. While stories like hers make me marvel at the power of love, on the other hand, it scares me shitless.

Can I love a man that much to give up that much? Come on, I am already giving up my father's name, now I have to cleave to a new culture, language, food, religion.

What is husband giving up for me? (Maybe now I can understand why Edward was so reluctant to grant Bella her wish!)

So that's my first question....Is my fear above valid? If you are involved in a mixed marriage/relationship I'd like to know if such thoughts have crossed your minds and how you combated or resolved it.

Two..for my single and formally single readers, have you ever considered mixed relationships?

p.s. My elder sister said mixed marriages should only be considered if the man is from royal/rich family, hear! hear! Her logic is that people with money/status do not follow culture as strictly as those without so less burden for the wife. I don't know how true that is.....lol

Eurotrip

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 16:46:00 +0000

So I went Eurotripping by bus (ala the movie) in August.

And it was wunderful although it didn’t seem like that at the beginning.

First this trip was on the cheeappp.

Secondly, my initial plan was to go for a conference in Italy between the 7th-10th of September but I found the the earliest visa appointment date I could get on the Italian Consular website was Sept 5th (and being Nigerian, you need to add 2 weeks to the normal processing time). So I decided to seek the warm embrace of the Netherlands and hightail it to Italy from there. My classmates had gone there earlier in the year and said it was fun.

I chose to apply for the visa thru the Netherland Consular office in Edinburgh (opportunity for some sightseeing too).

Your tour guide - Edinburgh Castle, Holyroodhouse palace, Scottish guy in skirts playing bag pipe, that doll collection looks like something from a horror movie, Ebony and Ivory (my tour partner)

For all my troubles Netherlands gave me a miserly 3 weeks ending on the 3^rd of Sept so no Italy Conference still :(.

You might wonder why i chose to bus it? Initialy i thought it was cheaper (it wasn't!) then I thought driving would enable me appreciate the changing scenery through 4 Western European countries.

It was supposed to be 12 hr journey (did I hear you say backache??) leaving London Victoria at 8.30 to get to Amsterdam at 8.00pm. Well, we got to Amsterdam at 1.30am. How you wonder? A 5 hr delay in Brussels!! The coach broke down and we had to wait about 3.5 hrs for the replacement then add rain and rush-hour traffic. What was most amazing was that nobody shouted at the driver or complained (you know how we do it in Naija). It was all civilized and understanding. even those who were missing connecting flights. Passengers played with their phones, got up at intervals to stretch their legs, cheerfully gisting with the driver. smh.

Brussels

My seat mate Tom, a handsome dutch-English budding actor kept me from tearing my hair as we compared cultures and foods.

By the time we arrived at Amstel Station, Amsterdam at 1.30am, the trains had stopped so I couldn’t get to Amsterdam central where my paid hotel accommodation was waiting. Well, I could have taken a taxi but remember I was on a vermicelli thin budget here.

So I sat it out on the comfy leather seats at the bus station

A few inches and that chair would have made a mighty fine bed!

I had 'great' company (not!) in the form of a stout Hungarian-Spanish drunk man Leon, who was trying to solicit me for sex (offered me 50 Euros). Alas he knew little English and I knew no Spanish so it made for an interesting conversation

Leon: me like you. Gibberish, see money. Me give you. go hotel.

Ginger: You -me no no no –with vigorous hand gesticulations.

I was miffed cos when I threw him off he went over to this old buxomy woman who can’t be a day under 55. And there I was thinking he was mesmerized by my hawtness, drunk or not.

Morning couldn’t come fast enough. I went to the ladies, cleaned up, changed to jeggings, brushed my teeth and wandered into the city for a mini sight seeing tour.

And I fell in love.

Amsterdam is such a pretty city. You know those ceramic dream like buildings you find on display shelves? It seems they are modeled on Amsterdam buildings. After boring old British houses I loved the rusticity of Amsterdam: the canals, the cruise boats, the bicycles!! Everyone and their mom rode bicycles. I really need to learn how to use that contraption. Its sexy and healthy exercise.

There was something 'Open Sesamish' about the opening and closing of this portion of road. It opens to allow boats pass.

The Dutch were also a friendly lot. A lot of strangers saying hi and flashing genuine smiles. Within 2 hours of ambling about the streets I had made 4 acquitances who tried to convince me to extend my stay.

Then my phone battery went caput and I couldn’t take any pictures. What!! My new friends directed me to this Coffee shop Popeye to get a drink and get my phone charged. And my eyes really popped. Get a look at their list. Yep It was an authentic weed shop. Even the brownies could get you high.

Nevertheless it was a particularly cosy and friendly shop. I was even invited to share the peace pipe on the house. No can do!! I had this imagery of me being so high that I forget to go back to UK.

Take a look at that Price list and the colorful names for different hemp cultures

The ‘coffee shops’ finally explained why most people in this town were happy. They were all prolly walking in a weed haze.I would def visit Popeye again if I ever go to Amsterdam (not for the weed o!).

I didn't get to see the Redlight district. I had asked the lovely lady at Popeye to gimme directions to the district which she did grinning from ear to ear - she found my embarrassment amusing cause I'd whispered the question into her ear. I must have missed my way cos I never found the street and I wasn’t ready to ask passersby.

I got to visit a Cheese shop. Went away with Goat cheese. Second pix is one of the ubiquitous tour boats littering the Canals

By 15.30pm I was at the station waiting for my train to Aachen, Germany which was 2.5 hrs away. Prof had invited me to see his much boasted of Aachen.

I was awed. Maybe it was cos I had this idea of a sterile military Nazi Germany. It was thus a surprise to find this picturesque town. You could also feel the energy and the affluence. Unlike Britain where it is now common to find boarded-up shops and buildings falling on their ears, I could not smell the recession here.

*I also saw Aachen’s red light district which compensated for Amsterdam.

Sight seeing

Buildings: Something old, something new. The roundish structure is a public bath

Street view: Germans love dining out. Note the time 8.30pm

More street views: the multi-people statue is supposed to depict people involved in bribery, you can see the exchange of gifts :), Pix 2 is a picturesque bus stop.

Prof wanted to take me to the Carolus theme park for spas, a newly opened theme park, and an animal park. You can guess the one I was really excited about.

St Francis of Assisi (Patron Saint of Vets), Kangaroo, Flamingo, Zebras, Scottish Highland Cow. No pictures pls!

Did I mention German efficiency? Buses arrive at bus stops at least 2 mins before scheduled time then wait. Hello Britain. I also noticed that passengers could get in through the bus’ side entrance. You only go through the front if you need to get a ticket. I’m sure you can see the loophole in that. But there was a strong deterrent: 40 Euros fine if you get caught.

Students get to buy a transport ticket (200 Euros) at the beginning of the school year which covers all train journeys and bus trips within most major cities in Germany. What a bargain! When I think of how much I have spent on transport in the UK…smh.

I went shopping by myself on Monday. I got Printen for my friends, (a biscuit Aachen is famous for). A shopping decision I regret cause the biscuits taste errmmmm funny. Prof says it’s an acquired taste..well he should have warned me. I was so embarrassed I didn’t give it to the friends I bought it for cause I felt they will judge my poor taste. Sigh.

I did wish I had lotsa money to shop with. Ah well, another time.

Home again home again jiggety jog, this time by Eurostar (train). 2hrs and I was back in London. Never again Eurolines!!

Durham market place

Rate your University Experience

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Sat, 12 Nov 2011 15:24:00 +0000

So sometime in July I volunteered to work as a student rep during my school's Open day. An event set aside by a University to showcase its facilities to prospective students, while for the potential student, it is an opportunity to have a feel of the school's academic environment and general ambience.

I had been watching all the preparatory activities with a cynical eye. First cos it reminded me that my days in Durham university were numbered (by July I was done with my final exams), secondly it reminded me again that universities in the West have become education factories and thirdly I was waiting to see the white-wash my university will get up to (remember how the roads and sidewalks get whitewashed in Nigeria when a dignitary/governor/president visits?) lol.

I had only had a virtual open day before I arrived at Durham. To be honest the concept of open day was lost to me. It isn't a common event with Nigerian Universities (I hadn't visited UI prior to penning it down in my JAMB form). I only knew it was a top university and that most of my friends from secondary school were heading there. I also knew I didn't want to attend a university in the East (well, the only one I would have deigned to attend was UNN and I would probably have been married by now or so my eldest Sis moans.).

Anyway somehow in a moment of madness, I squealed my love for my DU on the application form and was invited to join the Open day team. Our job was to welcome parents and students, hand them goodie bags and maps, give directions to seminar venues, answer questions about our own experience and praise the school to high heavens.

On the D-day, the only whitewash was the weather. It was a bright warm summer day, and DU practically beamed a welcome. Quite opposite to our usual dreary weather.

Parents and kids came in droves. I noticed how parents of African origin made a beeline for me immediately they walked into the hall. Some families came with the family dog. One mom was a bit taken aback when i asked what course the dog was planning to take, then she caught the joke and started laughing.

One elderly woman with her grand daughter in tow, told me she was an alumnus, so also her daughter and her husband and now their child - her grand daughter. I thought it was sweet.

I remember one dad asking me what the entertainment was like in Durham. Are the pubs alright? Do you have clubs, parties, sports facilities or is it all about academics. lol. I cod just imagine a Nigerian dad asking that....not.

Not everyone liked what we had on offer. Some parents criticised our library ..that it was old fashioned...'Durham still uses books??!' "So so and so university's library is practically virtual. no need for old and musty-smelling books" o__O.

A number weren't impressed by our historic castles and colleges. My beloved college (originally built in 1846) was called 'olde worlde' by a sneering father. No vex.

I came away from the open day with a deeper appreciation. Open days are very vital for a school. any school. Students are the life-blood of schools not the other way round. Schools NEED their BRAINS, their BRAWN and their MONEY. Hence they need to attract the best who will contribute to new knowledge, new records in sports and become credible ambassadors. They also need their money to help run the school. And this is what motivates the school to keep improving and exceeding expectations.

I also left with an appreciation of the importance of parents attending open days with their kids. When you send your child away to a school - be it boarding school or University, it is important for you to have a feel of what their future learning environment will be like; the classes, the chairs, the accommodation, the toilets, the fun/sports facilities. I believe the challenge of parents and students visiting keeps the school on its toes.

Lastly, it is an opportunity for the staff of the university and current students (eg. Me) to re-evaluate why they chose this particular school. You can only truly convince another person to share your zest for your university if you truly believe it. Well, unless you are a good ~~liar~~ salesperson.

I was actually surprised at the positively passionate answers I gave to questions like 'what do you like about Durham University', 'what has been your experience as an international student', 'Was it value for your money' cause it wasn't practised.

I read somewhere that Universities have 3 principal, direct functions: In the 1st place they teach; 2ndly they accumulate great stores of acquired and systematized knowledge in the form of books and collections; 3rdly they investigate or in other words they seek to push out a little beyond the present limits of knowledge and learning year after year, day after day, some new truth. They are teachers, storehouses and searchers for truth.

Durham University satisfied on all three 100%.

I feel most Nigerian Universities nowadays would satisfy 90% of the first stipulation. 40% of the second and 5% of the third.

What has been your University experience?

Much Ado about Reality TV

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Fri, 04 Nov 2011 01:12:00 +0000

Happy November people!

So this past month I’ve become an avid TV viewer, from Nickjnr to PressTV to Reality TV.... the bane of the new millennium. Seriously, how do we justify this watching of other people’s intimate life...boring other people if we consider the likes of 'The only way is Essex' and 'Made in Chelsea'. There’s something voyeuristic about it. and I don’t think its healthy.

Anyway let me bore y'all with my observations of some of them. Pls chime in with your observations too.

CNN/BBC: Its amusing to note that the news is all about ‘what’s happening in Libya, Syria, Africa meanwhile your own backyard is on fire. Yeah I ‘m talking about BBC and CNN downplaying the Anti-capitalist youth movements in America and the UK, the brutality and use of excessive force by the police while screaming about happenings on the other side of the world. Talk of Two facedness. It seems Ukraine and Italy civilians have also joined the protest in their respective countries. On an aside, Nigerian youths how far?

NTA (Nigeria's national TV): Sigh. I don't know where to start. The news is as stale as the audio, background, presenters ....except Ifeanyi Okafor. I miss the hay days of Yinka Craig, Sienne Razaq, Hauwa etc.

X-factor: I love music. I love the concept of discovering new talent. Susan Boyle was my inspiration for 2009. But, when I see teenage/barely out of their teens Xfactor hopefuls whining on and on with kohl streaking down their face about 'how this is what they’ve dreamt of all their life'….I feel like slapping the taste outta of their ambition-less mouths.

I know viewers think he is the joke for 2011, but I like Johnny Robinson. He has an amazing voice and is funny to boot. Frankie on the other hand needs a comb…I can’t tell you how much I hate his hair. And the tight jeans. And the make up. That he is still there while Sophie Habibas (sue me, i know the spelling is wrong) is out indicates the demography of X factor voters: Dumb females who need the police to confiscate their hand sets for texting under hormonal influence!

Still on X-factor – I think the US Xfactor Judges are a more credible bunch than the UK. I dont know what Simon was thinking when he picked that diva bunch (Gary and Louis included). Kelly you are my girl and I totally agree that what Louis and Tulisa did to MishaB was uncool (Heck MishaB has now been branded a bully by the internet which is unfair in a competition which can be won or lost based on the voting public's fickle perception); but you going into super diva mode and abandoning your charges didn't help either.

Kiddie's TV: I watched several episodes of Ben 10 for the first and last time. My conclusion: Ben 10 is over rated and totally inappropriate for 2-8yr olds who alarmingly are the most enthusiastic about it.

I like Nick Jnr programmes…my favourites are Olivia(she's such a fashionista) and Peppa Pig. I hum Peppa pig’s theme song in my head sometimes. I don’t mind Fireman Sam too. I love the fact that one of the characters Mike Molly or something has an inter-racial marriage. We’ve come a long way!

Big Brother: Who agrees with me that BB has lost its raison d’etre? The producers are determined to milk it for all its worth though and they keep adding annoying twists. Eg if you've been watching BB UK, you'll agree with me that bringing Jem, Faye’s sister into the house just ruined the game for Faye and Aaron which was unfair. I mean I understand the protective big sister bit, but Jem should have understood there was a prize to be won and kept her meddling opinions to herself.

I love Two and a half men. More like I used to love Two and a half men till they ousted Tiger blood Charlie and replaced him with Lamb blood Ashton. Dear Ashton! What Demi Moore sees in that young man I don’t know. Maybe I am mistaken. Hope so.

The Bachelor: The females who parade themselves in The Bachelor have set back the campaign of feminists by 50 years. How can someone’s sole ambition be 'to be patted and fondled and picked out like a prize cow in a farmer’s market'?

The Bachelor has also confirmed the belief of 'rent a bride consultants' like Patti Stinger; that rich men love their women blonde, biddable, giggly and pretty... just like Carrianne. For those who thought Layla should have been picked, when she told Gavin that she has a mind of her own she sealed her fate.

And as for the homely Latvian girl (she was booted off earlier) who confessed to Gavin that she's been keeping her virginity for 'The One'..Wowsa!! Darling, virginity is not considered a price by the English. When the Bachelor is an Arab Sheikh, apply again.

But despite my dislike for all that The Bachelor stood for, when Gavin choose Carrianne in the end, despite her rumored bad behavior and that dreadful squeaky voice etc I was forced to accept that when a man falls in lust/love, he is blind to all faults....mostly. I had initially thought Gavin was being too wishy washy, but looking back now, if i am to believe his confession of love to Carianne was not scripted by the Producers, then its likely Gavin had chosen her from the beginning and the eliminations only helped him confirm his choice, do you get me? Or maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic.

Who is sick of TV?

Versatile Blogger and 10 things I love about me

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 01:13:00 +0000

So I have these amazing, down to earth and always interesting bloggers Toinlicious, Cherrychatter, DammyJewel, Stelzz and Naija4life to thank for bestowing the Versatile blogger award to me. I totally appreciate it and I think you guys are the dog’s bollocks too.

The rules of the award are:

1. Thank the person(s) who shared the award with you by linking back to them in your post. (Done)
2. Pass this award to 15 recently discovered blogs and let them know that you included them in your blog post. (UnderDone)
3. List 7 things about yourself. (OverDone below)

In the spirit of the awards, if you have yet to get on to Toinlicious, DammyJewel, Stelzz, Fashiondivvah, Newlywed, Duchess, The Blunt blog, Naija4life, DeeDee’s Digs, The New Yorker Project pages, pls check them out right now!!

>Toinlicious says she is prettier than Kelly Rowlands and has the most amusing family members to boot. With a niece and nephew called Kimberly and Timberly that should give you an inkling.

>Cherrychatter's blog writes lively hilarious posts about dating and a single girl's dilemma with interfering Nigerian Moms and Aunties.

>DammyJewel gives us a vignette of a day in the life of a newbie residence doctor. Want to read of the surgery assistant who fainted in the middle of a surgery and was wheeled out of the theater? Click here.

>Stelzz writes about her walk with God in self discovery. But when Nigeria and Canada get to her she blogs about them too.

>Fashiondivvah blog is eclectic. From feminist issues to music to fashion to relationships. ohh and she loves oaks plantain chips

>Innovatedbabe of Newlywed blog makes me want to marry like yesterday. The stories she tells of her marriage are so sincere and refreshing.

>Duchess writes about her personal experience with disability with loads of sincerity, passion and humor.

>Chintan is blunt and her words cut like a two-edged sword but lurking behind that toughness is a soft and sweet interior which she reveals to ardent followers

>Naija4life doesn’t have the political or economic clout to resolve the world’s problems but believes that his pen and a determined heart can start the fight.

>Deedee’s recent digs at Nigeria in her 10 things I hate about Nigeria caught my attention. Hilarious read. And you’ll know she aint lying. She’s forgiven though cause she also wrote about 10 things she loves about Nigeria.

>Ria Nicole of the New Yorker project gives us anecdotal posts about New York which are mostly humorous, perverse and thought provoking.

Now back to me

So this is going to be a cross between things about me and appreciating my virtues ala Myne’s post

#1 - I am adaptable. Really. I can adjust to life anywhere. Take me to Alaska and I’ll probably become more Eskimo than the Inuits. My mom used to despair at how easily I make myself comfortable in other people’s homes. Be it a palace or a hut. As long as I can find love and warmth there…..

#2- I am a magnet for children because the ~~agbaya~~ child in me is irrepressible. Sometimes I think it confuses children. One minute I am scolding, the next, I am the pretend donkey and you are riding piggy on her back and dancing to the Mickey mouse club theme song.

#3 - I love books. I love reading. Each book is like an unopened gift pack. The writer’s style, the plot, the characters are all ingredients which add up to a perfect muffin or vomitus. While other girls dream of future kitchens and children’s rooms, I dream of my own home library.

#4a - I can’t tell lies. I find it difficult to lie. The few times I do, I’ll probably confess by night before harm is done or trip myself up. To help myself, I am learning how to tell people ‘it’s none of your business’ when they ask me personal stuff which really isn’t their business anyway – rather than lie.

#4b - I don’t flatter. A corollary of my inability to tell lies. So believe me when I say ‘you are beautiful, awesome or write amazingly. It is sincere.

#5 - I am wise with money. I believe in saving up for things and weighing opportunity costs but unlike the ‘Silas Manners’ of the world, I also know when to let go and have some fun. In fact that is the ultimate incentive of penny pinching: being able to ‘treat’ myself.

#6 - I am loyal. I will stick with friends through betrayal, lies, ill treatment, gossip and postpone calling it quits for as long as I can. But when I say it is over…it is.

#7 - I forgive and forget. Now read the last sentence of #6 again. Do you see a problem? lol. I have sincerely kissed and hugged ‘sworn enemies’ then when I get home I think, ‘but I shouldn’t have hugged him/her. I shouldn’t even be talking to him/her. Why? Errrrr I can’t remember. Sometimes I think I should keep a journal.

Anyway that’s for friends. For boyfriends that broke my heart…I have an elephant’s memory.

#8 - I love my legs. I think they are the hottest bits about me.

#9 - I love spur of the moment plans/trips/holidays. I hate planning things to death. Urghh. Eg. Weddings. If I could, I’ll elope like Okeoghene. Seriously. Thinking of 6 months of marriage counseling and booking halls and catering just makes me break out in hives. Too much drama plzzzzzzz.

#10 - I love to fantasize. My favourite sexual fantasy (err don’t you have one?) is my mom walking in on my hubby and I making love, in my bedroom, in my parents’ house on a Sunday morning and I raise my head long enough to scream, “Mom, we are busy!!!!”. And she mumbles a quick apology and closes the door. Orgasm!!

Crazy Stupid Bridesmaids and a Hangover

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Mon, 10 Oct 2011 16:51:00 +0000

I’ve watched the first Hangover thrice and I don’t mind introducing new converts to it. It was 100 minutes of pure hilarity.

When I heard Hangover 2 was out. I wondered what new madness could top the previous? I mean pulling your incisor tooth out, stealing Mike Tyson’s pet tiger, marriage to a stripper, naked Chinese men, was mad enough.

I understand that if a recipe worked excellently the first time, one should repeat it faithfully. So Hangover 2 followed the exact recipe of Hangover 1: boys night out, wake up in a strange bed, strange animal in the room, naked Chinese men, missing body parts, a monk. But something just didn’t ring funny this time. Maybe cause it was so predictable?

I have a love/hate relationship with Zach Galifianakis and this time he was as irritating and painful as a sore throat. Shaving his head didn’t make him more endearing. I like Brad Cooper but his good looks couldn’t save this train wreck. Stu (Ed Helms) tattooing his face duh. Guitar playing brother in law chopping his finger off…unbelievable.

I only watched this movie to the end in other to write this review. Do not pass go, do not waste your money. Wait till its free on cable. In fact watch a Nollywood movie instead.

Ginger scores it 2.2/10

Bridesmaids

I heard it was the female version of the Hangover so I imagined drunken orgies and cat fights and girls getting facial tattoos or pulling off their teeth. Arghhhh.

Beautiful surprise!! What I saw was a tasteful and almost realistic depiction of female friendships, being a third wheel in your best friend’s life, jealousy, planning a wedding, and settling for less than perfect cause you thought that was all you deserved. There was drunken behavior, shitting in pants, even animals etc but we were always ladies thank you very much.

Annie (Kristen Wiig) was living an under-perfect life. She was broke and barely able to pay her rent cause her fledgling bakery business got hit by the recession. In the romance stakes, she could only boast of a fuck buddy. Then her best friend, Lilian (Maya Rudolph) gets engaged and made her a bridesmaid. Which was all fine and dandy except that Helen (Rose Bryne), Lilian’s Boss spoilt wife was set to usurp her position as best friend and plan a very expensive wedding.

Annie suddenly becomes a third wheel in the planning cause although she loved her best friend and knew her likes, dislikes and dreams, she knew zilch about planning an unforgettable wedding. But it wasn’t just about Helen, Annie needed to fix her life before she can recognize the love and friendships on offer.

I guess this is what we can call an authentic chick flick. It focused on women (mature women at that!), our friendships, money matters, fashion and family and of course men. Yes, there was the requisite romance but it wasn’t the raison d’ atre nor was it the ‘over the top’ type with last minute airport/taxi/bike rides, just a simple ‘I’m sorry’ carrot cake.

Me likey very much!!

Ginger scores it 7.4/10

He had been cuckolded by his wife of 25 years, the woman he thought was his soulmate,

He was the ladies man till he met the girl that made him ditch his ways.

and He was a 13 yr old in love with his 17 yr old babysitter.

Three intercalating romances with enough twists and turns, humor and great dialogue to keep you glued till the end. and even as the credits roll, though you feel all warm and fuzzy, you cant help but wonder.... 'Will Jacob and Hannah last?', 'Will Emily and Cal make it?'

It’s been a long while since Hollywood gave me a romance I couldn’t second guess. You wished for the best but it was real enough to make you realise that finding your soul mate is no guarantee of forever. How will the past affect their future? 'Will Jacob and Hannah last?', 'Will Emily and Cal make it?', 'Will Robbie's professed love for Jessica survive adulthood?

Who was in it:

Steve Carrell from The Office (hated him there but he has redeemed himself admirably here)

Julianne Moore (regal as ever)

Emma Stone from The Help (This has been a good year for her!)

And the last but the best..Ryan Gosling. He is officially my latest crush. He was the epitome of bad guy turned good. You go from hating his treatment of women to rooting for him to get his love. Did I mention his body??. That guy’s body had me reaching out to touch the screen.

Mr. Right if you are reading this. hint hint. Gym please.

Analeigh Tipton played the teenager in love with an older man.

Marisa Tomei gave great laughs as the scorned woman.

Kevin Bacon. The home wrecker. Why does this guy love playing annoying roles? Pfft.

What more can I say about this movie?

If you love romance, please do yourself a favour and go to the cinema now. And I promise you it will be money well spent.

Ginger scores it 8/10

The Help

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Tue, 04 Oct 2011 22:18:00 +0000

So a while back Myne blogged about the movie The Help (View article...) and the fuss made by Black women historians about its inaccuracy. I don’t have their lived experience so I may not fully understand their view point but I can appreciate movies and The Help was a beautiful movie which DID NOT make light of the travails of the black nanny/housekeeper. Infact it highlighted the insensitivity of the white racist mistresses and masters in those terrible civil rights era (the 60s). For the maid trying to earn a living, what does she know about the big picture, it is the daily meanness of her employees that affect her more than the death of a Malcolm X (ask the househelp in a Lekki Town house in Nigeria what she cares about Goodluck).

They say why should a white woman write their story? And I ask why can’t she?

I also contend with the statement Portraying the most dangerous racists in 1960s Mississippi as a group of attractive, well dressed, society women, while ignoring the reign of terror perpetuated by the Ku Klux Klan and the White Citizens Council, limits racial injustice to individual acts of meanness.

Racism includes insidious acts of ignorance and injustice which spiraled into a way of living for the society written into laws by government. The society/government/policy makers are in turn made up of individuals. Laws were written by mothers, fathers, wives, husbands supported by spouses, families, children who saw no wrong in their actions. Because if enough had cared enough to say ‘this is wrong’, maybe some stupid laws would never have been passed. It was a ‘harmless attractive well dressed society wife’ that pushed for separate toilets for the servants, far from the family house wasn’t it? Somebody thought, whites shouldn’t sit in the same bus with blacks and with the support of others wrote it into law etc. The Ku Klux clan were made up of men who had supporting families. It has always been about people.

My friend Chiz asked .…I don’t understand how these women think. The nannies carry, feed, hug, kiss, practically raise your most prized possessions - your kids but you deny her the toilets in your home??! Why weren’t they scared she’ll pass on her negro germs to their kids? Smh.

Then you compare the normalcy of Celia Foote's attitude (Johnny’s naïve new wife) and you wonder how it was easy for her to see Minny as a fellow human who could teach her a thing or two while another (Hilly Holbrook) needed a slap in the head.

Anywho, The Help was a peep into the lives of black maids in the 60s in America and in particular the lives of Aibileen Clark (Viola Davis) and Minny Jackson (Octavia Spencer) her sassy outspoken friend. The white protagonist is Eugenia ‘Skeeter’ Phelan (Emma Stone) a young white woman who has just started off her journalistic career and wanted to write a collection of stories about family, housekeeping, being a nanny and cooking recipes as told by these black women who had done it all their lives. A perspective certain to be controversial if not dangerous for the maids.

The maids were at first reluctant because they were afraid to lose their jobs but Aibileen sets the pace, then Minny, then a murder occurs and these women realize that if they don’t tell these stories, it dies with them. The book becomes their voice...

It was a movie about the ignorance in racism, peer pressure, faith, strength of character, friendship, survival and humor. Mostly it was just plain heartbreaking.

Myne found the the scene where Minny was putting her 13 yr old daughter through her new duties as a maid heartbreaking, for me, it was when Skeeter’s mom baldly sacked Constantine(Cicely Tyson) her maid of 25 yrs old to satisfy the demands of her genteel society friends. The hurt and yet understanding in old Constantine's eyes touched me. When I asked myself, ‘Ginger, at that moment would you have done differently?’ I wept at the shame of my answer.

The performances of all the cast was outstanding, while the thread of humor saved it from being a Precious (but then again, maybe that is the problem critics had with ‘The Help’, the use of fecal humor to trivalise what was painful and evil). Nevertheless, I think Tate Taylor, the screen writer and director did an excellent job!

I also loved seeing the pretty new black faces. Aibileen wore the saddest face I have ever seen. But when she smiles, her face can light up the darkest tunnel. A reviewer gives her fulsome praise here:

Viola Davis’ Aibileen is sorrowful, exhausted, and wary. When she walks, you feel the rust in her back and knees; when she misses the bus home because Skeeter wants to talk to her, her eyes and shoulders tell you what it costs her to extend her day. Using her controlled physicality, her low voice, and her radar for realism, she quiets the movie down — which it desperately needs — and turns herself into the embodiment of the pain, compromise, and strength The Help otherwise struggles to get right.

Ginger scores this movie 8/10.

What Rape Culture Looks Like

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Fri, 23 Sep 2011 11:54:00 +0000

D&G perfume advert depicting rape as cool

I readapted this from this post on yesmeansyes blog and an analysis of what a rape culture looks like from Finally feminism 101. And I am going to FICTITIOUSLY illustrate it using the recent rape that happened in an Eastern state in Nigeria.
Let’s start with explaining rape culture. Transforming culture says, “Rape culture is a complex of beliefs that encourages male sexual aggression and supports violence against women. It is a society where violence is seen as sexy and sexuality as violent. In a rape culture, women perceive a continuum of threatened violence that ranges from sexual remarks to sexual touching to rape itself. A rape culture condones physical and emotional terrorism against women as the norm.
In a rape culture both men and women assume that sexual violence is a fact of life, inevitable as death or taxes. This violence, however, is neither biologically nor divinely ordained. Much of what we accept as inevitable is in fact the expression of values and attitudes that can change”.
The last sentence is one I truly believe in THEY ARE VALUES AND ATTITUDES THAT CAN CHANGE!!
Uchenna is a 400 level law student of ABSU. He comes from a rich family and as a student has the accoutrements of wealth - drives a car, is a member of the best men’s club, hosts and has invites to the best parties etc. He and his 4 buddies regularly visit a beer parlor in the nearby community for some beer and nkwobi (local delicacy). There he regularly flirts with the female waitress Chioma who is the niece of the owner of the beer parlour. Chioma is in her 200 level, studying Arts at the same University. Whether or not she voluntarily flirted with him is unknowable but as a rich cult boy Uchenna knew she could not afford to say no to his advances. So she flirts back.
That’s rape culture. When men make choices about what women do with their sexuality, that strengthens the idea that men can control women’s bodies.
One Friday evening in August, he called to make an order for a pot of nkwobi for he and his friends to TGIF on (home delivery). She couldn’t say no as this was good business for their restaurant and these guys were good customers …she knew she had to do everything possible to keep them happy. When Chioma got to Uchenna’s place with the food, she discovered that he and his friends were already there. She felt a tinge of alarm but shrugged it off. Afterall she knew them. They came to the restaurant at least thrice a week, what could go wrong. From serving them nkwobi it turned into an altercation, a kangaroo court hearing and judgment where she was found guilty of insulting their friend Kadi for trying to ‘cup a feel’ two nights ago at the beer parlour. Before she could say boo, they locked the room and raped her.

Rape culture is pervasive imagery of stranger rape, even though women are 3x more likely to be raped by someone they know than a stranger, and 9x to be raped in their home, the home of someone they know, or anywhere else than being raped on the street.

She attempted to struggle and shout but realized that her struggles were exciting them further. They knew her strength compared to theirs. Struggle only made the victory of her capitulation sweeter. Moreover they threatened her that if she didn’t cooperate she would be their prisoner for the next 48 hours. So she kept quiet and cooperated, opened her legs as wide as she could and let her spirit fly. Back to her maker crying ‘Oh Lord, Why me Lord. What did I do wrong. don’t let it be more than this. Oh God. AIDS, STD, Pregnancy, Shame. Let me die Lord”.

Rape culture is the idea that only certain people rape—and only certain people get raped. Rape culture is ignoring that the thing about rapists is that they rape people. They rape people who are strong and people who are weak, people who are smart and people who are dumb, people who fight back and people who submit just to get it over with, people who are sluts and people who are prudes, people who rich and people who are poor, people who are tall and people who are short, people who are fat and people who are thin, people who are blind and people who are sighted, people who are deaf and people who can hear, people of every race and shape and size and ability and circumstance.

When they finally finished with her, she wrapped her torn clothes around her bruised body and walked home. It hurt so much when her thighs rubbed against each other. She stopped along the way to stoop and pee and it was as if her vaginal area were on fire. She told her Aunty about the attack and asked her if they should report. Her aunty said ‘No’ and told her that she was “overreacting”. Is it not that nice boy Uchenna that always gives you big tips? She reminded her of all the times she had told her to stop wearing those tight jeans and ‘mini skirts’. See what trouble it has brought her now. That’s why the boys noticed her.
Her Aunty also reminded her of the shame it would bring to the family if the story leaks. No man will marry her. She would become an untouchable and taint the marriage chances of her junior ones. What she didn’t add was that she was also considering her business and all the potential loss of income if she accuses those group of boys. Moreover who would listen to poor people like them accusing the likes of Chief Okonkwo’s son. They might send thugs to beat us up or destroy my beer parlour. “No, Chioma. Let God judge our case if you are truly innocent”.

That’s rape culture. When families, friends or people in power refuse to take women’s rape charges seriously, it means there are no consequences for rapists, which makes them free to rape more. Rape culture is also admonishing women to “learn common sense” or “be more responsible” or “avoid certain place” or “don’t dress this way” and failing to admonish men TO NOT RAPE.

Later, while Chioma was convalescing in her aunty’s home, the rapists came with other buddies to the Aunty’s bar. They ordered beer, drank and they loudly recounted tales of what happens to people who attempted to betray them. Violence, Arson, Kidnapping etc. Chioma’s Aunty received the message, smiled and served them more beer.
In the beer parlour seated unbeknownst by the corner watching and listening was a lecturer of the Law faculty in ABSU. He had seen the rape video making its rounds amongst students. One of his student buddies had shown it to him. If he wasn’t sure before, now it was confirmed that these were the rapists. He had also seen the media campaign asking for information about those involved. His conscience nagged him, but what could he do. The Vice Chancellor of the Uni had publicly denied that “No ABSU student was involved”. Who was he to counter his statement? He definitely didn’t want to lose his job ..not when Professorship was two years away. Nor did he want to repercussions from the boys. So he sweeps the memory of what he has seen from his head and goes home to mark Test papers.
That’s rape culture. When authorities who could use their power to help victims find justice deliberately keep silent. it not only leaves rapists free but intimidates other victims from ever coming forward.
As more details emerge, you’d think there would be a deafening outcry from sympathetic Nigerians - fellow students, mothers, women in government, fathers, brothers who would join arms with this hurt sister in solidarity and call out for investigations for justice. No! Rather they ask ‘why did she go to his room?’, anonymous students from her school write to say ‘she’s a known slut who probably decided to make more money by taking on 5 guys and has now bitten more than she can chew’, they say ‘didn’t you hear her tell her rapists that ‘she was cooperating’ does that sound like rape to you? Was she screaming or moaning in pain at any point? Aren’t people being raped supposed to scream and struggle? Some even suggest she may be a lying gold digger who is only protesting cause the act was video-ed.
Her life history is already on public trial in a way that would never happen if she were the victim of kidnapping or attempted murder.

That’s rape culture. When victims are tasked with the burden of rape prevention. When women are too afraid of being re-victimized by their peers, the courts and the media to come forward, and when the public gets the message that women who accuse men of rape are lying or did something to deserve it, and the cycle continues.

Chioma is yet to report the matter to the police. Nobody has come out to identify her or to identify the 5 half-named assaulters. From what people who watched the rape video affirm (normal sane people) it was an assault. There was nothing consensual. Why then are some people doubting that it is a rape. In the video names were called, why aren’t school registers being subpoenaed to find out the names of all male students who have similar names. But no, security forces are sitting in their offices waiting for Chioma to waltz in and announce ”oh here I am. Ready to avenge my rapists. See their names, pictures and phone numbers”.

Rape culture is the pervasive narrative that there is a “typical” way to behave after being raped, instead of the acknowledgment that responses to rape are as varied as its victims, that, immediately following a rape, some women go into shock; some are lucid; some are angry; some are ashamed; some are stoic; some are erratic; some want to report it; some don’t; some will act out; some will crawl inside themselves; some will have healthy sex lives; some never will again.

Rape culture is the pervasive narrative that a rape victim who reports rape is readily believed and well-supported, instead of acknowledging that reporting a rape is a huge personal investment, a difficult process that can be embarrassing, shameful, hurtful, frustrating, and too often unfulfilling. Rape culture is ignoring that there is very little incentive to report a rape; it’s a terrible experience with a small likelihood of seeing justice served.

There are 5 alleged rapists in this crime. But no one is talking about them or what determinants in their school environment or community fostered and promoted rape. Rather the victim is the focus of all the blame and negativity. That’s rape culture, and it has to stop.

So you want to be a Banker (Epilogue)

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Fri, 16 Sep 2011 15:23:00 +0000

You may now be wondering , 'So Ginger, how did you fair in the bank? Are you trying to tell us nothing happened?’

Yes, I can. Absolutely nothing happened. I was lucky. I was blessed. I met the most wonderful people through banking. I still have customers of my bank who call me just to say they miss seeing me at the branch and they miss having someone as efficient handle their business. I met a most wonderful Boss who taught me about integrity and standing up for yourself. I'm still going to write about our stormy relationship one of these days. It probably didn't mean much to him but as an executive trainee to his Senior Manager (12 yrs experience) he made a deep impression.

Like I said, I was just blessed. I got to manage some excellent accounts and the owners liked how I handled their business and linked me up to other high networth businesses. I also understood my job. I had my Bank’s products and services on my finger-tips. I used to tell my colleagues that knowledge and competence will always win over ass-licking or bedmatics. Most serious customers recognized that and chose to stay with someone who will truly manage their bank business, rather than mess it up with sex.

I was lucky. Lucky that I had a supportive family so I wasn’t desperately attached to my job. I knew I could walk away if the pressure got too much and it won’t hurt anyone. You can't compare my freedom to the man/woman who is the bread winner of her family.

I could also say I wasn't tempted. I mean, I think if I had met an Idris Elba look-alike who coincidentally is a partner in Glo telecoms and was willing to bankroll me in exchange for ~~a rump in the haystack~~ an affair even for a few short months, It maybe harder to resist.

Anyway, so there I was sinking under a N989m target for deposits (yes you saw it right!! N989m, add 11m and you have a billion), 450m target for risk assets and a target income of 135m for the bank. The truth was I inherited a target larger than my trainee status cause my branch was grossly understaffed, so a budget that should have been shared between 8 marketing staff was shared by 4. Now let’s say at the end of the month I brought in 200m in deposits, 50m risk assets and 20m income, you do the math. I was under-performing, subsequently my promotion letter was coming by snail post.

It was crazy. My new female boss didn’t help matters. She was a hyper-achiever who needed her job like an addict needs crack. Her texts are the last you see and the first when you wake up... beep.beep ‘Ginger, what's your plan for today’, ‘how do you plan to meet your target today?’. We had evangelists come to join us for morning prayer sessions to pray for the branch’s financial breakthrough. They also cleansed the building of target sucking demons..lolss. At least my boss was Christian. There was this female branch manager known to invite her fetish consults (babalawo/jujuman) to arrange some charms strategically in the building and make high networth people eager to sign their papers when told. LOLSSSS. (Believe that and you'll believe anything..)

Then there was the Monday budget review meetings in Zones that turned managers and marketing staff into nervous wrecks.

If I had a read out of my blood pressure it would go something like this:

Lowest on Friday evening. TGIF.

Rising by Saturday afternoon. Although I am socialising at some event, all I am thinking is 'where to find the next rich customer'.

By Sunday night, I am a half wreck cos Monday is near.

Monday morning - No matter how positive and 'relaxed' I've psyched myself to be, immediately I walk past the bank's doors, my bp is on the roof. Yep, it's gonna be a bloody day.

After the meeting it comes down a little, the worst is over, but it remains on a seesaw for the rest of the week rising and falling with your 20 top customers account balance. I use to have my customers calling me to APOLOGISE before they withdraw hefty sums from their accounts cos they knew what it meant to my KPI (come to think of it, this wasn't even fair to the customer). I prayed for my customers, their family and their businesses, sometimes more than I did for my family. And i really did it with all my heart, cos if it’s good for them, it’s good for me.

Working in an understaffed branch made me rise up to challenges faster than my mates. I knew the bank business like the back of my hand, I could write credit proposals, budget analysis, presentations. Sometimes I even represented my manager at Monday meetings when she was too ~~chicken~~ sick to come.

One day, I looked around and asked myself, 'Ginger where do you see yourself in the next 5 yrs? Branch manger? What does that mean? Bigger salary, a personal car to use, access to large mortgage or other loans and don't forget BIGGER TARGETS. That’s all. No high powered business lunch, No business consultancy. No cerebral challenge. No helping smaller businesses grow - It is telling when a business like Vitafoam Plc can’t open new branches while the banks supposed to help it grow sometimes have 6 branches on the same street.

Moreover I was losing it with family and friends. Resentful of the family members that had not moved their account to my bank. Angry that they weren't as rich as the Otedolas or related to Dangote. My love life also suffered cos my bf was in another state. I never had time to visit, I was always tense and worried, depressed even, and I felt he didn’t understand what I was going through. Moreover he refused to open an account with my bank which I felt was very disloyal of him.

My colleagues advised me not to quit, that I should weather the storm, that it gets better. Maybe. Cos truly career progress in ‘sales’ is straightforward. Remember the movie 'Love and other drugs' and how Jake hit his stride with Viagra? It can be like that in banking; maybe my Uncle becomes a Senator in the next election!

But I was just sick of it all, so...

The Feel of Free

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Thu, 15 Sep 2011 12:56:00 +0000

People, I am finally done with my MSc!! Handed in my papers last Friday and slept the sleep of the dead.
To fellow Postgrads on Blogsville who just finished too ... ..Strategic Chic, Northern Chica. Congrats.

You'll think now that I am free its all joy right? Nope. Had to start packing up clothes and things acquired over the past one year. Its a tiring job for a hoarder like me (I'm one of those types who find it hard to throw things away). I have 2 big suitcase and 3 traveling bags so far..what!!
Then so many decisions to make. To stay or not to stay. If to stay where? Durham isn't exactly job friendly but moving to London when you don't have where to stay involves forking out a lot for rent. Sigh. I need a Sheik in my life.

Advice anyone? Offers? What's the best UK city?

Finally I want to say thanks to everyone for the rousing argument we had on my last post. I appreciate you all. The personal stories, the personal confessions. I hope we all learnt something. I did.
So, here are some pictures that left me lost for words......

Add caption

My friend put this picture up on facebook. Someone should give our Prez, posture lessons already. Nothing says subservience like your hands behind your back. Haba! Even if its Gringory Akabogu and Madam Ovularia?!! I can almost hear the 'yes Ma'm.

I know you'll have seen the computer generated baby picture, well, this is Beyonce jnr all grown up...wicked I say!

This dog's name is Yoda. She is the ugliest dog in the world. Yep she won the award hands down..no competition. If I were Darwin I would haunt her owner till she rids herself of this creature. I hope they didnt let her procreate.

Now this just broke my heart :(. Ernie and Bert are not real people?!!!

Of Epiphanies and Sickle Cell

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Fri, 02 Sep 2011 20:28:00 +0000

I’m ever thankful to God for leading me to the project I undertook for my thesis: Researching Sickle Cell Anaemia. I am grateful to all of you who filled out my questionnaire. I got so much rich information. I learnt so much, so so much.

I have also been changed. It took me down memory lane, reminded me of people I had not wanted to remember.

First there was Chi-chi. Funny I can’t remember her surname right now. She was the daughter of my mom’s friend. I was 8 to her 18. I can't remember the details of her face but I do remember she was lanky and fair. Chi-chi was always full of life, laughing all the way and trying to engage precocious me. She was my grown up hero….except when she was sick. I never saw her ill but I heard the whispers ‘another crisis’, ‘bad’. Then one day I eavesdropped on a conversation between my sisters and heard them talk of Chichi’s illness and how it was a pity but she was likely to die at 21.

It was a blow to my heart. My puppy love shriveled in fear. I remember how I started watching Chi-chi. And started a mini countdown in my head...gone in 3 years.

I told my little heart to love her less, cause even then I understood that loving too much causes heartbreak. I also began to avoid her place. Thankfully, I can remember saying anything hurtful to her as children are wont to but in retrospective, I wonder if she noticed the stares, the pitying glances and people who avoided her cause her ‘life represented death’. How very awful lack of information is.

I don’t remember what happened to her cause the family moved away from Aba the next year.

Then there were Wunmi Ogundiran, Ekom Ukpong, Seun Oguntade. All three were classmates from secondary school, living with the cell. Ekom’s bunk was adjacent mine in JS1 and many a time I escorted her to the school clinic. I don’t know where they are now and I am trying hard to convince myself that Sickle Cell Anaemia has not claimed them.

I also remember Joke, a JS1 girl who died when I was in SS2 from a terrible crisis. We only had a small clinic in school, ill equipped to deal with a child who developed a severe crisis at 9pm in the night. She was buried there at school and that was my first funeral.

Fast forward to 2008, during my banking days, I met a corper who carried herself ever so wonderfully and daintily. Bissy is 5’8, chubby and ever so chirpy. I did notice she was very careful not to exert herself(that’s where the dainty came from) but I thought she was just being ajebo or a lazy corper.

Nope! girl was managing her illness the only way she could, to avoid a crisis!

I remember one day in the pool car we were having a rousing argument about ‘how carriers who marry each other should be shot, diced and quartered’, ‘how people who have SCA must hate their lives and their parents’ etc etc. Bissy was quiet, listening and smiling. Then she goes ‘Ginger, I hope you know I am a sickler and contrary to your opinions I do love my mother very very much. I don’t like being sick but I love my life all the same’!

Bissy 100: Ginger 0.

I never forgot that lesson, and for once I didn’t have a comeback. I loved that girl even more.

It was like an epiphany:

Sickle cell does not always manifest physically. Yep. Not every slim, yellow cornea colored person has SCA.

Someone with sickle cell lives a normal life most of the time; cares about fashion, parties, boys, careers, etc etc

Someone with sickle cell can be whatever they want to be

Someone with sickle cell also wants a woman/man to love, marry and raise children with.

The course of illness varies in each person, Some mild, some severe.

With proper care and management, someone living with SCA will live as long as they were destined …. just like we all need to care for our bodies if we want to live long and healthy lives!

I never treated Bissy in any way different following her revelation but happily covered for her when she needed time off. But my best advice to her when she asked me if I thought banking was a good career for her from my experience was, ‘darling, you need to do an Usain Bolt here. You don’t need this stress :).

Fast forward to 2011 and I’ve discovered so many more wonderful people living with the cell. There is Tosyn Bucknor of These Genes and a blogger, most of you know Nutty J, another blogger. There is Toyin Adesola of ‘Touch a Cell’ who was interviewed recently on Moments with Mo, Wande, a brave brave lady who is currently undertaking bone marrow transplant to rid her body of the troublesome sickle cells (you can read about her journey here) and Tosin Ola-Weissman of Sickle cell Warriors (don’t you just love the idea of brave warriors fighting sickle cell and hacking off its lethal curves with a sword?!). You should visit her page sometimes and read the interviews of interesting men and women who have the cell but have refused to be defined by it. There’s never a gloomy moment there!

So why am I writing this? First, this month of September is Sickle Cell Awareness month. Second, I was sitting here writing my thesis discussion and all these thoughts came flowing.

Twenty years ago maybe there wasn’t much hope for those with Sickle Cell cause of lack of appropriate medication, not enough counseling services, poor understanding of health personnel, racism etc. But as each new day comes, new discoveries are being made and hopefully one day in the near future, there will be a super pain reliever and smoother chelating system and crisis will be a thing of the past.

But while we wait, let’s make the world a more welcoming place for those living with it. I have heard statements like:

“I am AA, but I can never marry a sickler”

Yet I also hear, “Carriers who marry carriers are selfish”

Then “Carriers should not abort sickle cell pregnancies. Abortion is murder”!!

“If carrier parents were foolish enough to get married then they had better be prepared to give birth to the child and raise it”

Finally you go on to say this about the child born with sickle cell “They hate their parents and wish they had never been born”. Much as we preach prevention and say do not abort sickle cell pregnancies, we must be more positive about Sickle Cell!

I notice this strong theme of blame for carriers of Sickle cell gene. I was on that camp before, but I have seen the light now. If that is where they have found love why judge? There are options available to assist reproduction like adoption, prenatal diagnosis/selective termination, adoption, IVF using sickle free eggs and sperms, surrogacy innit?

Moreover, Love is hard enough for single ladies and guys out there (sorry I have to use the cliché). Let’s try and celebrate those who have found happiness in each other and wish them well or what do you think?

So you want to be a Banker (Part 3)

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Wed, 31 Aug 2011 13:17:00 +0000

BlogFam!! I'm sorry my stories are hiccuping. What to blame? Dissertation. I am neck deep in birthing my project. Just sent a 2nd revised draft to my Sup. I pray she doesn't suggest any dramatic changes! How are you all doing? Thank you so much for your faithful readership and 'commentorship'. (Sting, what did you say about people who form new words again?)

I will be back at full throttle soonest!

My story will be incomplete if I don’t talk of ‘the Customer’.

Customers understood the competition and desperation and enjoyed playing the marketers against each other. The Nigerian bank customer was truly king.

The unnecessary close relations that develop between bankers and customers especially family and friends in the name of relationship management created room for unethical business deals. If your cousin’s business is in your branch and you have the clout you will be tempted to bend rules to make his loans get approved faster etc etc just saying.

Same if a customer is doing 'you' a favour by banking with you. They get to feel they deserve some payment in kind. Like you using your powers as a bank staff to cover dud cheques, using your personal money to make up under-funded accounts, print shady statements for Visa purposes, launder money and yea, sexual favours.

You don’t do it, you‘ll be accused of not being ‘sharp enough’.

Take the example of Chief Zulu, a typical business or high net worth individual. He has a minimum of 6 bank accounts because of various friends, family and girlfriends spread across the banks. He also gets to move his money according to his whims.

Chief Zulu has just received a juicy govt contract worth N500m. While the cheque is still in the post, the banks begin to pay their respects. Business lunches, dinnesr, gifts and a lot of empty credit promises.

Chief Zulu being a most generous man, distributes his wealth:

N100m to Dayo, his nephew in bank AB,

N100m to Kingsley, his brother in law in Bank EF,

N150m to Ada, his oldest bank account in Bank JK,

N100m to Alhaji, his old school mate in Bank OP and

N50m for the reigning bank galfriend in Bank XY.

Of all the deposits, the N50m is the most flexible and movable. If reigning girlfriend misbehaves, it goes to the next gf (intra bank or interbank). Also depending on how obliging or good in bed new gf is, or as we say ‘how the love is shacking him’, Chief Zulu may increase her holding to N100m. He wisely keeps the funds as call deposits or 30 day deposits which gives him enough leeway to revoke his generosity lol.

I remember a galfriend’s story about her highnetworth customer who she advised to consolidate his accounts into three or less accounts (of course her bank must be one of the prime accounts!), she said he retorted ‘Why should I? Do you realize how my account officer in other banks care for me? All I need to do is call and they are here easing my stress while you have never offered even a simple blow job, acting like a saint. It's just cause I like you that's why I am still using your bank". I kid you not.

You may also meet Mrs. Moneybags who practically turns you into her lackey cause she has N100m in your bank coffers. Expect phone calls at 9pm asking about a N150 naira charge on her account that she doesn’t understand. Expect tantrums. Expect to massage her ego, tell her how beautiful she is .. always. Expect her to dump her marital problems on you. And note - the day she detects a frown or a reluctance to do her bidding, she moves her money to the next willing banker. If you are a guy, other services might be expected of you…..

I didnt say anything oo

Advanced ‘deposit’ fraud? That happened a lot.

During one bank ‘year-end’ period (month that a particular bank closes its records for the year), I remember one of my otherwise gentleman customers whom I had been bugging for a deposit, calling me to come and pick a N4m cheque. It was 5pm. I wasn’t too comfortable with the time considering that I was on the mainland and he was on the Island but hey I thought of the boost of presenting a N4m cheque the next day and off I went. Between traffic and waiting cause he had a meeting, I got to see him at about 7. Got the cheque which was postdated to 2 days later..no probs. He proposed we go for drinks before I leave. I shrugged yes. No biggie. I got generally squeamish when he started getting touchy feely as we were talking and I said ‘’Bros, mba(no) that aint the deal. He then asked to see me over the weekend, I said No, can do. Other days? No Siree. We aint going that way. We said goodnight amicably I thought. I hopped on a taxi and left.

Two days later he sent me a text that something came up and I shouldn’t bother paying in the cheque till further notice. huh??

That year end another customer, Mr Wangdu came, dangling a N500m cheque. The zonal manager and the branch manger courted him like a beauty pageant queen. Mr Wangdu finally gave them the cheque. It was Friday, 30th of August, the Bank’s year end. The 700m swelled the bank’s coffers. The branch posted profits based on ‘yet to be earned’ interest. Bank manager was praised for hitting such a sweet deal.

Remember Bank cheques clear in three working days in Nigeria? Well, Aug 31^st was Saturday, Sept 1st was Sunday, Sept 2nd was Monday – Mr Wangdu calls the branch manager a bit distraught. He needs a N2m overdraft. He didnt meet the criteria for receiving an overdraft cause his account was only 2 weeks old. But the zonal manager gave a 'wink of approval'. How can you deny a man that potentially has 700m, a paltry N2m? A bank in need is a friend indeed innit?

Loan was given on the double which Mr Wangdu promptly withdrew from his account.

Sept 3rd^-the 700m cheque returned. With the sundry charges for returned cheque etc etc he was owing the bank -N100,000. When he was notified, he said ‘sorry, pls represent the cheque”. Another 3 working days and cheque was returned yet again. Account was now in red to the tune of N210,000 which was increasing daily.

All of a sudden, Mr. Wangdu was MIA. Office was locked. Phone unreachable.

Guess who is repaying the overdraft and sundry? The account officer and bank manager. The bank called it negligence. Per chance it had gone the right way, they would have been feted.

Do you still want to work in the bank?

Continued

So you want to be a banker (Part 2)

noreply@blogger.com (Ginger) — Thu, 25 Aug 2011 00:16:00 +0000

Marketing started in earnest.

High heels-check, trouser suits-check, hair-check, jewelry-check, eager smile-check. I was a banker...... or so i thought!

My second day at work I was given a sheet of paper and told to write down the names of all the wealthy family friends and relatives I knew and give an estimate of their net worth. Then state the deadline by which I would have converted them to customers of the bank????

Coming from an average middle income, non-politically affiliated family you can imagine my struggle to give an impressive list.

So I lied..

Chief B.Y. Dogonyaro (my latest Godparents) - N30m

Otunba Abiola MBO – N25m

Sir Ginger (my new elevated millionaire Dad) N18m

Rev Mrs. Do Good of Do Good Ministries – N16m (I was advised to join the church quick quick and volunteer to be an usher)

Mr. Smith of XYZ Oil servicing Company (now that got my manager very excited ‘Oil $$$’)- 100m

Yahoo Ltd owned by Mr. Yahoo – net worth N50m

It was crazy. God help you if one of the relatives you noted their name is relatively popular e.g. A politician, you will become the most revered marketer. Revered cause you are expected to bring Uncle's loot to the bank. Maligned if you are unsuccessful. A 'threat sackletter' from the bank is sometimes helpful in making Uncle more sympathetic to your cause (~~did someone say blackmail?~~).

Charity begins at home right? I started calling uncles, family friends who I never was close to in earnest, ~~ask~~ begging them to open an account with my bank, friends and neighbors. It was something I had never been easy with, calling favors and owing ‘people favors’ per se, but it had to be done. I tried to be pragmatic and think of it like a game. A popularity contest.

That notion worked for a while, till I found out my KPI (Key Performance Index) which no one had mentioned at the interview, and desperation crept in.

Deposits are the sum total of monies the account holders you manage keep with the Bank

Risk assets are the sum total of monies taken in loans by the account holders you manage

Income is the interest earned on the deposits and on the loans given out

Bank marketing is a lot like sales...duh, it was sales. But unlike sales of goods where there is an instant gain for the customer when he buys the product (drugs, cleaning agent, cosmetics) in banking you are telling people to .. errr, come and save their money with your bank / take loans from your bank trusting that your bank doesn’t renege on the contract e.g raise interest rates arbitrarily.

Knowing the Nigerian banking climate, what with recent memories of near collapse of some banks due to misappropriation by directors etc, you can’t blame Nigerians for being distrustful. Most people have more faith in their closets and home safes.

There were also other issues.

1. 1. Products and Services

They say customers listen to Radio WITFM (what’s in this for me). Well, what do most customers want?

Incentives - Personal banking could have come with better incentives like what I see here…where you get value added incentives like computer/phone insurance, travel insurance. Discounts in favourite shops. Small things that make a customer think they are getting ‘value’ for banking with you.

Credit: For their personal use. To start up businesses. But how many get that? Very few. Banks are afraid to give cause customers aren’t ready to pay back and a lack of social security number and national ID makes it impossible to trace defaulters. So we ask for collaterals like share certificates, land, houses. Only few can produce acceptable legal documents which can hold in court. Businesses are unregistered. Bank accounts run like personal accounts. How do you lend money to a customer whose account turnover isn’t more than N100,000 monthly, but he wants to borrow N1m?

Salary earners had it easier, we have particular groups we lend money to – telecom staff, fellow bank staff and people in civil service. Also staff of long established blue chip companies. The idea being their incomes are steady. They don’t change jobs. Even if they do, they are only moving to bigger and better jobs. If you don’t belong to any of these groups, Credit? Fogerrit….

Some banks took risks and truly helped a lot of businesses. Some, like mine played by the book.

All in all, sales in the bank was up to ‘personal relationships’ of the marketer.

2. 2. Fellow bank staff

Where do I start? Is it the manager that can’t write a coherent letter? Or the zonal manager that accompanies you on a marketing call only to end up embarrassing you cause he can’t differentiate between a long term loan and a short term overdraft?

Or the team leader who takes the pool car out (grounding every other marketer) to MTN office ostensibly to sell our credit products to her ‘connections there’ when she is actually out on a long lunch date?

Or the inefficiency in bank operations that causes cheque book printing to take months, ATM card request 2 months, Cheque confirmation hours?

Or Is it the lunatic customer service person who inadvertently pisses off customers that you’ve spent months wooing?

The latter one just gets my goat. You’ve been following up this prospect Mr WYU: attended all his family wedding and christening events, bought the aso-ebi, called him every other day, texted him daily, etc etc. He finally opens an account with your bank (just to get you off his back). And you bide your time thinking soon soon.

All the while he has only met you, or some other member of your marketing team and maybe your boss (when I say personal banking I mean it literally. We bring the bank to him, account opening forms etc for those who can’t be bothered -which is most, na you dey beg na- I fill all the forms, and just point to where he signs).

As good team members, we update other colleagues of the progress of Mr. WYU’s wooing during branch meetings.

Imagine then one fine morning, Mr. WYU wakes up on the good side of his bed and decides to come to the bank, to pick his cheque book. And surprise you. And he meets the idiotic Customer Service Officer who thinks her job function means she is ruler of all she surveys.

Mr. WYU: Hello, I came to pick the cheque book for WYU LTD. My name is Mr. WYU.

CSO: (slowly looking up from her blackberry with irritated eyes and pouting lips) What?

Mr. WYU: (repeats himself)

CSO: "Please I can’t attend to you now. Can’t you see I am busy? Come back in 2 hrs time"

And Mr WYU leaves your bank with the 20m cheque he wanted to pay in thinking ‘what kind of bank is this?’!

Sigh. Only God’s grace and the gap toothed smile of her baby boy on her desktop screen, stopped me from helping some people lose their jobs. Only that.

Continued