Rub al Khali, Image from Wikipedia

Holding Pattern

There is treading water.
And then there is lostness
and the bland, depressing
sameness, of everything.

There are bad night’s dreams.
And then there are visions
of the night – in which
one writhes and like
a knotted string snarled
back upon itself one-
finds himself at the
self same starting point.

In the beat
of the drums of the
delirious priest
and the frenzied dance
that is our Faustian pact,
Hope like a stubborn root -
peeks out from between
a rock and a hard place.
And the unwilling lethargy
of a quiescent dawn
is forgotten, as it fades
like the memory of a
quick frolic in the shade
of water side palms dies
in the heat of a
baking desert sun.

But in the rarefied quietness
of our seasons of re-memory
we find – that for all our sweat,
and all our pain, and the make belief
of hope and delirious joy,
we still remain, kept in check
In the self same holding pattern

I caught my first whiff of light headedness half way through my second pint of Guinness Extra Cold – in all its frothy, 3.5 degree chilled gloriousness. The group from work – ever happy for an excuse to hit the town and splurge on the brew – had decided they were up for a second night out, a mere two months after our February jaunt, and that on a Wednesday evening no less.

We gathered at the Irish Malones bar; I arrived the small matter of five minutes before we were due to start to meet a sizeable number of people settled in, already downing a few tasters. There was no discernible pattern to how the group had aggregated, although it was clear the drilling and reservoir lads were having their usual love-in slightly to one side of the building, and the six or so ladies from Planning were chattering away excited at the other end.

I made my way to the bar and ordered my Guiness Extra Cold – wikipedia had promised it would be a very tolerable 4.3% ABV laced meal in a glass (a wee bit over my usual Becks fare, but I expected I would be able to handle it). A few sips into my drink, I caught the eye of my current work mentor, mid way through the very animated conversation he was having from his enviable position, sequestered between two buxom women. I went across, got introduced and proceeded to participate in the conversation, my participation being limited to interjecting now and again with oohs and ahhs at the colourful details of some altercation from a previous outing way before my time here.

Somewhere between downing my first pint and starting off my second, I was saved by the arrival of the finger food – an assortment of meatballs, fish fingers and spring rolls, with several sauces to choose from. I went for the compendium approach – having a little of everything to ensure I had sampled the lot. True to my insular, anti-social leanings, I flirted briefly with the thought of heading home early. There were mitigating circumstances this time though – my lightheadedness, and  the insistent growling of my hungry stomach – but the lure of watching the evening’s football (Real Madrid went on to lose on penalties at home to Bayern Munich) proved too strong. Thankfully, staying turned out to be the correct decision as the game provided enough of a talking point, and dragged on long enough to allow me dilute my alcohol with a diet coke.

I may have learned only one thing from this night out – I still have a ways to go to building my alcohol resistance. That, and the quip from my work mentor who insisted in mock horror at my choice of Guinness extra cold, that a true gentleman only drank gin-and-tonic.

Not too long ago I resumed at one of the much vilified companies in Nige… No complaints from me though, as long as them roger me my small thing at the end of the month and dem no kidnap me – No long thing..  I went to complete my in-processing a few weeks ago. Over serious naijaboy like me go organize better trouser and korrect shirt, come tuck-in with my glasses and fresh hair cut. Mehn.. Me sef trip na, as I look myself for mirror o..  Note to self – Next time take a photograph for posterity’s sake!

But sha police na the same everywhere o, whether dem stand for road or dem be Security Specialist, all na the same o…

Like a real ju-man, I arrived there well ahead of time.  8 am sharp, I don tanda for the gate, meanwhile na 10 o’clock dem talk for the letter o. The gate was closed as expected. But I just waited anyways. One police man come dey eye me one kind. Me self dey pose na, like wetin concern me, na Oga I come see o, not police.

Maybe the police come dey suspect sha, cos after a while he walked up to me. Like a well brought up Naija boy, I come greet the guy.

Me: Good morning sir,

Policeman: Yes, Ken I help you? You have been loitering around here for a while

Shoo – persin wey seat down for bench outside gate, na loitering be that?

Me: Yes please, I need to see Mr ** in HR

Maybe I was imagining it, but the police man was suddenly more alert.

Policeman: Do you have an appointment? You can’t just see him like that. He is very busy especially on Tuesdays.

Before nko? Which one concern me concern day of the week? Shebi I get letter

Me: Yes I do, I have a letter.

Mistake number one, telling him I had a letter. Mistake number two having my appointment letter in the top section of my portmanteau.

Policeman: Oh you do? Lemme have a look at it. I need to verify the signatures.

Naïve me, promptly delved into my portmanteau begin find the letter o.

Me: Here it is.

See wahala o, police man dey jack the letter like say na JAMB exam o..

Policeman: Ermm, young man, follow me. You need to speak to my superior officer.

Omo, one kain fear begin grip me sha o, Abi na fake letter dem send give me?

Superior officer ke? Na so dem go bundle me go kirikiri o.. And some kain string faced community boys dey outside gate dey try peep sha.

Anyhow, superior officer turned out to be one woman with a very Igbo-itic skin color. I come dey believe small sha, say if e too  hard I go beg am as Mummy. There was a barrier – like the stuff at banks, so I stayed outside it. She motioned for me after a while.

MummyPolice: *No long thing*, come over.

I jejely waka enter the barrier go meet the woman o. I dey use style spy her name tag whether I go fit see her name, no be lie na one Ibo name like that sha.

MummyPolice: Do you have any identification? I mean how can we verify that this is you? A lot of you young men are into impersonation.

Haba! Impersonation ke? Me wey don drop my ID card for school and Nige no gree give me National ID card. How I wan take prove say I be me?

Thankfully, my ID card from my bank account as a corper was in my wallet. I presented that. Mummy police dey eye the ID card like say na rat poison o.. After much sha, she looked up..

Mummy Police: Okon, give Mr *** a call and see if he is expecting this young man and take him in if he is.

No be small relief flood my body o.. I jejely collected my letter while Police Man placed a call to Oga’s Secretary.

PoliceMan: Madam, his secretary says they have been expecting him, I’ll take him over.

Mummy Police: All right then, just make it snappy.

Police man prepared a temporary gate pass for yours truly and proceeded to lead  me through. The guy just dey try walk side by side with me. Which pattern?

As we neared the office, the guy cleared his throat,

PoliceMan: Ah, e be like say you know persin for HR o, because company never employ for like 5 years o.

Which one the guy come dey speak pidgin na? after all im hassling me?

Me: No o, na just God do am o.. My papa na lecturer for University o.. Im no know anybody o.

PoliceMan: Mbok! Na so una dey always talk!   Na the office be this sha. O boy e don better for you o. Anything for your man? At least make me sef drink beer follow you celebrate o.. U know say na me call you enter that time o, u for still dey outside.

Olodo, so na small thing you dey find before come make u dey try harass me.

Me: Oga, Nothing dey today, I still dey come here tomorrow, I go roger una small thing tomorrow

The guy no wan waka comot o. Thankfully secretary saw me through the glass door and motioned for me to come over.

Me: Oga, thank you, I no dey run, I full ground. I go represent..

As the guy see say nothing go drop , he turned to walk away.

Oloshi, im wan panic correct Naija boy before! Nonsense!

As God would have it, dem charter company car go drop us for hotel, so norrin’ doing for the police man..

The monument to the Gordon Highlanders.

In the week that saw a cloud of gas leak from Total’s North Sea Elgin-Franklin field, the scramble for gas offshore Mozambique continues apace as Anadarko and Cove announce further finds, adding to the significant plays booked by ENI in 2011. The BBC’s Antonia Quirke ponders the impact exploiting these resources will have on this hitherto pristine corner of the world:

There is a sense on Vamizi of anxious anticipation. Some hope that the Mozambique government will run the project well and money will filter down to the islands which are particularly poor. Many people have feared the worst from the start. An islander tells me that when they heard that gas had been found to both the north and south, they watched all night as the illuminated exploration vessels searched and searched ever closer to their shores.

We stood on the sand, he said, and prayed it would not be found right here, thanking Allah when the vessels moved on.

The vast majority of African countries have not managed natural resources very well. Oil in Nigeria’s Niger Delta and Equatorial Guinea, and diamonds in Sierra Leone and the DR Congo are perhaps the most obvious examples of natural resources fuelling fat cat dictatorships, internal strife and burgeoning insurgencies – arguably with the connivance of the West. Tullow in Ghana and Uganda appear to be setting about it the right way; one can only hope that Mozambique uses this as a unique opportunity to build an industry from the ground up, learning to avoid the pitfalls that have befallen others who have gone before.

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Image from the Imagine Africa website.