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At the beginning of this year, I had this magnificent plan of having one of the best summer holidays with the family.

Summer, summer, summertime
Time to sit back and unwind

Here it is the groove slightly transformed
Just a bit of a break from the norm
Just a little somethin’ to break the monotony – Will Smith


In fact, I wrote down “summer holiday” as part of my 2016 goals, including a bucket list of what to do, by the side – sky diving was one. Then I prayed over the sheet of paper during my church’s end of the year Watch Night Service. You know that service you get to pray from the night of 31st Dec into the early hours of 1st Jan? Yes, that one!

Today would have been the day we are headed out to ‘The abroad’.

For a striving middle-classer like me, going on summer holidays with the family has always been something to look forward to.

Aside it being a great opportunity to visit families and friends abroad, see places and engage in various activities; going on a summer trip is like a self-pay-back benefit, for a year of hard work, taken from your income.

Understandably, Not every Nigerian can afford a holiday, not even the luxury to travel within the boundaries of the country. But soon as an average middle class can save up for it – it doesn’t matter if the cost is equal to two years of their personal savings plus some borrow here and there; a summer holiday will surely appear on the horizon.

You can’t blame us. We are Nigerians, very egoistic by nature. We must feel among. Our complex has no limit. Interestingly, this kind of behavior is something that is evenly distributed across all our socio-classes – high, middle & low income earners. Trust me, it is even more common among the poorest. ‘O sure ju’.

But this 2016 summer period is different. A very very special one. And this is not because of the Olympics happening in Rio

But anyway, during the course of the year, as I was doing’ my planning for the summer abroad jejely, that was how Forex caught malaria and started having high temperature, such that Naira dipped to 388 degrees to a dollar. As if that is not enough, Nigeria fell into recession, Airfare went up and Food prices shot up. You know all the gbogbo orisirisi inside fisherman okro soup? Yup. It all got into the same soup with Nigeria

As the summer drew near, and reality touched awon boys, my friends and I started to discuss with each other;

“You dey travel this year so?”

“Omo I no sure o”

“E be like say we no dey travel dis year again”

“I don buy ticket, but I go seek refund”

Well, there were some baddest….

“Bro, I go find the money. Anyhow we must travel”

“I can’t change plans, I already promised madam and the kids”

“We are no longer going to Paris. We will just go straight to the UK or Yankee and back”

That was how somewhere along the line, I decided to deceive myself, checked the price of ticket and accommodation for 10 days, for a family of 4 (may be I can change my mind too)….




HELL to the effing NO! Lai Lai! Kini won nsha ni be? What exactly is in the abroad? What benefit will I bring back from the abroad? Over N2 Million for a 10-day summer trip, excluding other things and…. Fian, Lobatan! No way!

Buy Sense. Grow Naija

So I kukuma decided to apply common sense, or rather, borrow myself brain to see what else I could do with the abroad money. Probably, use this opportunity to invest in self.

Necessity is the mother of all innovations. Who abroad epp?

Remember that my scrap book I mentioned at the beginning of the year? I dusted it to check out other goals

Hang on…

I am approaching middle age and I haven’t bought a single plot of land! All these while, it is “the abroad” that I always invest in. Father Lord!

I picked up my phone.. things must change. Thank God for Buharonomics. No more wastefulness.

I called my friend, Bishop. He is a property mogul – Adron Homes. Oga mi sir! Can I Pay Small Small?

Imagine, Adron was even distributing Ileya ram, if you subscribe to a scheme



It only now makes sense. I will rather buy a plot of land with N4 million than go to the abroad this 2016.

This is my story. E fit be you o.


Ade of Nigeria

Samsung Galaxy Note 7: The Smartest Smartphone Unveiled

The South Korea Technological Giant, Samsung Electronics, has released what it consider, its most Intelligent Smart Phone ever – the New Galaxy Note 7.

For gadgets lover like me, this is one of the most exciting news that can make you shoot off in all directions, looking classy this summer.

Yeah – you know that casual, “drop the phone on the table” during a meeting with other business partners, or “lets take a selfie” at a party, with your cool friends, feel? No one can burn you for it. You are who you are. Why? Because this phone, with its expected heavy price tag, is Impressively BOLD!




The Galaxy Note 7 features the same high end, first class material and a distinctive symmetrical edge design, with a finish, better than any of Samsung previous phones. It has a 12 megapixel and a 5 megapixel front camera. And for the very first time in any smartphone, the new HDR recording.

Think of it, High Dynamic Range imaging is the contemporary standard for TV picture quality. Very expensive and limited. Samsung had to partner with Amazon Prime streaming service, for content and quality HDR video streams.

The phone will also be available in more colors than before – Blue, Black, Yellow, Silver and Gold.

Enter the Game Changer: Iris Scanner

According to the Guardian, the Note 7 “biggest selling feature is a new biometric option in the form of an infrared iris scanner that takes just seconds to set up and unlock the phone with a glance of either eye.”

The scanner detect patterns in your iris. Just pointing it at your eyes will unlock the phone, and it does so really fast. But you must first be registered to the device.

This is an extra layer of security, even though the fingerprint scanner under the home button, still remains.

The Galaxy Note 7 is expected to hit the Nigeria market by September 2016

You can visit the Samsung Newsroom for more details on the Galaxy Note 7 features.


By Ade Oyinloye @hammdriller

Privilege – The Better You Look, The More You See

“Equality before the law is probably forever unattainable. It is a noble ideal, but it can never be realized, for what men value in this world is not rights but privileges.” – H.L Mencken

Yesterday, I went someplace. I saw privilege. She stared back at me, I saw confidence. But his nose went up. Seemingly so.

It wasn’t a pride-like situation. It was just a natural occurrence. I was humbled.

I longed to be her. I know he definitely doesn’t want to be me.

So many circumstances like this, happens every day

Sometimes they rub the difference in your face. Sometimes they try to stay humble about it, and look unto you with pity… empathy, thanking God they weren’t you.

It doesn’t matter. You will be humbled.

A society not built on equality will soon become dysfunctional.

A rat race





The Federal Government just approved another extra day as public holiday, (just) because the moon didn’t come to the party, on schedule.
As far as I’m concerned, this is arrant nonsense!
Things like these is what make me wonder if our leaders truly understand global competitiveness and the need for Nigeria to ‘sharply’ leap towards catching up.
What is the value of the GDP loss to an additional bank holiday?
Already, the Nigeria’s informal sector GDP contribution is more than about a couple of other Africa countries’ GDPs, combined! (I just ran into this information 2 days ago from Dr. Yemi Kale’s handle) Can’t we drive this even further?
A lot of entrepreneurs are going to be affected by this one day. I have people who operate their businesses as a cross between, being a corporate and being an informal organization –
An additional day sitting at home (holidaying, partying) doing nothing when We are saying there’s no money, is a show of – lack of being insightful, from the part of the Govt.
As a matter of fact, you spend more staying at home!
As a matter of fact, you spend more staying at home. Beach with the kids!
At the moment, my income has reduced by 1/3rd in value without a change in the actual figure.
I have tried to readjust my personal budget from every angle, and trust me, I am very afraid of how much standard I’ll be losing to this budget readjustment scheme.
My body dey hot. I’m chasing after survival. Now the Govt. wants me to stay at home, idle.
We need to get off government’s handout and focus on small businesses. That way, these public holidays, driven by religious sentiments, will make less sense and we can create our own holidays, at our pace..
… Anyway

‘Who owns what?’ in a post Brexit era

‘Who owns what?’ is the title of the image I stood in front of for my picture to be taken by a colleague for my blog whilst blissfully unaware of the future about to be forecast.  Just prior to the referendum results I was in The Tate Modern with two other people for the afternoon looking at the new extension and the works within. We went round the exhibitions at break neck speed hungry for creative stimulation. The three of us ate a hearty lunch beforehand knowing we needed energy for the task ahead of looking and seeing and moving between the vast spaces full of global inspiration, wonder, curiosity, intrigue, imagination and communication.

We start off in a room with photographs of tower blocks from East London being blown up to make way for the then new Olympic stadium. One of my group recognised the estate and buildings from having lived in the area all his life. He hadn’t seen them as art before but homes where his friends had lived.

Two of us, being the wrong side of fifty to move around the works in such haste in our attempt to keep up with the third younger and fitter member of our party, who was devouring the art works as if starved of creative nutrition, found ourselves equally devouring the spectacle as the art worked its magic.

As we went round we spoke together of our experience the artworks were having on us and shared our ideas and little bits of knowledge, stopping briefly to take photographs and look around at the view. The effort nearly killed me as I was oblivious to the ever increasing pain in my back from the head on collision with a groceries delivery truck I’d had last year, but was over ridden by the amazement I felt from the new environment.




Preparations were evident of the grand opening the next day of the new galleries, much of this was lost on the other two who had not realised we were a tiny part of history being amongst the first of many people to view the instillations.


As we went round the works made by artists from oppressed and politically war torn countries one of my companions shared an idea he’d had for a piece of art work. Indeed he showed me the faded scars on his face he’d received after someone flied out his hand indiscriminately scratching him deeply on his cheek, which seemed to inspire him. The scar was a remnant of trauma and made sense of a comment made to me that he could do with an outing. I then remembered my companion and I had not discussed a traumatic event we’d been through a couple of years ago and could see the deeper emotional scars were still seeping and needed  (ad)dressing. We discussed the event as we walked passed the works made by feminist artists expressing the pain and torture from female oppression and abuse, and found ourselves feeling healed by our exchange as we recollected our previous outing together that ended horribly. The third member of our party, oblivious of the discussion taking place but not the event itself, continued to make his way round the gallery stopping momentarily to point out works of art he appreciated and taking in the mini explanations by the ‘Ten minute talkers’ dotted around to give audiences a brief insight to the backgrounds to the artworks in front of us. One was a painting of a man standing wrapped in a blanket surrounded by filth and excrement in a prison cell representing the dirty protests of the political prisoners at the time of the Northern Ireland uprising over English rule. Another war another time but the years of terror two of us remembered well as the third man relayed the bits of information he’d retained from the talker. Having taken in a new piece of information he could identify with having equally expressed dramatic behaviour as an act of protest, and who also carried his own internal scars, the stories folded in front of us and connected with our own.

We walk into the ‘Louise Bourgeois’ gallery and find ourselves facing a sculpture of a giant spider. Walking underneath it I point out the huge egg sack within and explained what I knew of the origin of the work connecting it to the artists anger and frustration and the relevance of the spider representing the artists mother who was a master seamstress. We move on to the gory painful looking paintings of red sinew bloodied like shapes and speak about the forms being like veins and arteries extracted from bodies and splayed across the paper. One of the men recalls his childhood beatings and the blood he saw escaping his own body. We spoke about witnessing things as a child that should not be seen or made known until adulthood. This related to the artists childhood experiences that inspired her art as a vehicle for expressing her anger, pain and survival.

I was reminded of my own anger, usually directed at the white goods in my kitchen, namely the fridge and freezer, on which I’ve vented my fury, once to such an extent I managed to lift and haul my old fridge out the kitchen and throw it outside my front door.   I can’t abide white goods that break down on me spoiling all the food inside. Its become a family joke that if mum is angry the white goods are going to get a kicking. In my defence at least I take it out on inanimate objects and not people.


So, ‘who owns what?’ Who does own what? Many people I know have not owned their own anger and frustrations and have taken it out on people and themselves. Perhaps it would help if we all had a EU regulated fridge throwing event to exorcise our anger!


“I have a sense that the population voting to leave have not taken responsibility for their anger by displacing it onto a misguided notion that tearing us away from the European Union was the answer”

A week later….

Today the notion of ‘Who owns what?’ takes a turn. In the aftermath of the referendum, as the UK awoke yesterday to the news that ‘Brexit’ have won, I have a sense that the population voting to leave have not taken responsibility for their anger by displacing it onto a misguided notion that tearing us away from the European Union was the answer. Inconsiderate of the generations left behind with the aftermath of their decision, a teeny tiny majority of 51%, not a landslide victory but enough to ensure we are leaving the EU, described it as ‘Independence Day’. I call it ‘Sad Day’.


Here’s what was published in The Guardian yesterday. The title: ‘If you’re young and angry about the EU referendum, you’re right to be’ (Rhiannon Lucy Cosslet) 24.06.16


The article commiserates the loss of opportunity for younger people to work and study in 27 other European countries at the reckless disregard of the thoughtless Baby Boomers swayed by the ridiculous Tory Fear propaganda campaign that the UK will be swamped by ‘rapist immigrants’ taking our jobs and our homes. Hardly! We leave that to the filthy rich immigrants investing offshore in tax havens and buying up the property market purely for investment purposes without a second thought to the effect this has on the community that live in the UK.


‘Who owns what’ has now taken on a different meaning over night. ‘Who owns the future?’ it should now read.

As the continent is left fractured and the UK divided I am left feeling angry on behalf of my children, whose futures remain uncertain as we consider the fall out of this catastrophe over the next two years. Cameron bails out to make way for an even bigger buffoon making poor decisions unrepresentative of the younger generations betrayed by politicians self serving greed.

I was proud to call ourselves as Europeans, I am now embarrassed and ashamed to call myself a Brit. To commiserate I took my 18 year old out for a late lunch in a continental café. Though disappointed he spoke of feeling excited about new opportunities and rather than downhearted he could see the potential for change having also voted to remain. We scoff our French fries and Panini’s musing on whether we will have to go back to calling them chips and sarnies.


So has the UK the resilience and resources to recover from yet another major trauma? In true Brit style the country seems to be carrying on a usual. There’s no riots or revolts but a bit of tutting and eye rolling. I feel I have a lot more to say about this but at the moment there’s a lot to process in the separation from a forty-year marriage, like who will keep the kids? and ‘Who owns what?’……..

Stealing a duck

I’ve never stolen a duck but I was accused of an animal related offence when I found myself in Crown Count several years ago now pleading not guilty to a charge pertaining to the Dangerous Dog Act.  I was acquitted after being cross examined in front of a 12 strong jury for two hours. The case lasted two days and almost ran into three but I was found not guilty within ten minutes of the jury adjourning to decide their verdict on my fate. I was hugely relieved as the charge comes with a minimum three month prison sentence, which would have ruined my career and ended my practice as a forensic clinician.


That was a very dark time in my life and all because my sons wanted a father replacement, which came in the form of a ‘Spolly’, a collie/spaniel cross we rescued from the local RSCPA. The dog had obviously been breed in a puppy farm and needed training and socialising. We set to and did what we could but Spollies are energetic, intelligent and completely barmy. Our dog was also extremely loyal and protective of his new found family and duly rounded up the boys whenever we went on family walks.

As the novelty of a father replacement wore off the dog got walked less and less to the point I took up the offer of a dog walker to train our mad mutt.

All was going well and gradually we found ourselves with a dog we could manage more often than not. One warm summers evening the dog walker popped round to take the dog for a five-minute loo break. This consisted of putting the chocker lead on the dog and taking him round the block for a quick wee. No sooner were they out of sight than I got a call from a very stressed out dog walker telling me the dog had bitten a girl, she was bleeding and they couldn’t find the parents. As I shot round to the playground nearby I was told by a couple of small children to go to the girls house but before getting there I saw my dog walker and dog coming up towards me looking very anxious. This all took place sometime after ten o’clock at night. I was regaled of the whole unfortunate event involving several young children hanging around the playground, not an adult insight, and a small girl asking to pat the dog who was laying on the ground panting gently in the heat. The dog apparently stayed in this position as the girl came over holding out her hand. She then decided to kneel down in eye line with the dog and held up her hand. Given the animal is part Collie I was informed that if they cannot retreat when intimidated they would snap out as they might with a sheep. With the dog held tightly on the chocker collar he was unable to move back and so snapped out at the girl catching her under her eye and above her mouth.  I was told there was a lot of blood as the dog walker lifted the child and took her back to her home only to be told the parents were out at a party and had been drinking. Another family member was alerted and took the girl to A & E.


The whole episode horrified us, we had no intention of causing harm to anyone and decided the next day to buy some gifts for the child by way of an apology such was our remorse. As we went up to the child’s home we could hear loud and ferocious barking coming from inside. We were met with the parents and could see a pack of what looked like pit bull terriers from inside the house. We gave our apologies and asked after the child. She was well, we were informed, but needed minor stitches. Grateful but in shock we left only to have a police officer on our doorstep later that day.

He listened carefully as I recounted what I’d been told and watched the dog laying calmly beside us. He liked the dog but said the worse that might happen is that we’d be ordered to have the dog euthanized. The officer suggested we contact the dog handling department as he thought our pet would make a good sniffer dog. We did this but were told they weren’t in need at that time. I took the decision to have the dog put down as we couldn’t risk anyone else being hurt and the boys felt unconfident then to walk the dog.


The dog was terminated leaving the family mortified yet relieved, but the story didn’t end there. The child’s family decided to press charges and I was asked to give a statement at the police station at my earliest opportunity. I then received a solicitors order to attend the magistrates’ court. Bewildered and dismayed I pleaded not guilty on the grounds that the dog was not dangerous and was being held responsibly at the time, but under the dangerous dog act, which I was reliably informed is one of the worse written laws, any person owning a dog that causes damage to a human, or indeed behaving in a threatening manner, should be prosecuted.  I decided to get advice and was told I had a good case to fight. I spoke to a high court judge who was equally dismayed stating it was a total waste of public money and that the parents should be prosecuted for negligence.


Time went on and I heard nothing, weeks later I again stood in front of a judge in the magistrate’s court and again I pleaded not guilty. This time the case would go to Crown Court. I had no idea what this meant but was advised to accumulate character witnesses from my colleagues. Determined not to be beaten I ended up with about 30 character witnesses which was nice as people said things that might only be said at a wake.


In the meanwhile I was made redundant from my post, another trauma, and received a small redundancy package. With the court date looming I had no idea about representation and the solicitors were no better than useless. I studied the specific bit of the dog law act pertaining to my case and became a dog law expert in the event I had to represent myself. It wasn’t looking good, I told my friend one evening after a meeting.  She had a think and said, it was a long shot but a family member was a barrister and she could ask him if he would represent me.

Fortunately for me he said he would and agreed to take my case for the paltry amount I’d been paid from my redundancy. This would leave the boys and I with little to live on but might keep me out of prison.


Anyway, the barrister was a Godsend, my guardian angel and saviour. The boys came with me to court and sat in floods of tears throughout. I sat behind glass with a police officer beside me and she chatted about what she’d cook for dinner when it was all over to keep my anxiety at bay.


Years later I still think about this episode and remain eternally grateful to my friend and the barrister for their help. We replaced the dog with a cat, called Malcolm, joined by another cat called Teddy, who terrorise the local wildlife but nothing more. I’ve learnt another of life’s great lessons and this experience has served me well.


When I saw the article in the Metro newspaper about the stolen duck it made me laugh and wonder what the law states about steeling a Mallard?


We won’t be having another dog and we often look at owners with their unruly pets charging around off the lead scaring people walking by, curious if the owners know they could easily be prosecuted if the dog even just barks in a public space, as this is all it takes so the specific article of the dog law states. I’m just saying, if dog owners knew they could be breaking the law by not keeping their dog under control there’s no way they’d let them off the lead!


Cathryn Johns has worked in forensic and mental health settings for the past 30 years pre and post qualifying in art psychotherapy. Kate is an educator, author, editor, supervisor and most recently qualified in NHS Leadership.

What would you do?

Hi folks,


This is my first ever blog. I’m a forensic psychotherapist, which means I work in prisons with offender patients, people who have transgressed and broken the law, usually with devastating effect. I’ve been doing this now for 30 years. For an offender that would be a life sentence.


Every day I go to work not knowing what the day will bring. This was also the case recently when I was training a group of therapists in London. Here’s what happened:


My colleague and I had completed delivering the first half of the training and stopped for lunch consisting of a cold buffet. The delegates and trainers were talking together about the morning’s events and catching up with each other at which point a young woman came into the room asking to speak to a therapist. Assuming she had an arrangement with a clinician, given the venue houses private therapy rooms, I pointed her in the direction of the administrators’ office. As it was a weekend professionals meetings were taking place including one for private practitioners in the room next door.


The woman went to the office. The administrator quickly returns explaining that the woman had told her she’d escaped from her violent partner yesterday and slept in a doorway overnight. She had bruising on her face, said she felt suicidal and had been turned away by the police and the nuns. She had only a couple of bags of belongings and no money. One therapist spoke to her and told her to make an appointment for Monday; another therapist shared food from lunch, hot drinks and a settee for her to sleep on for the afternoon and agreed on an impulse to give her a bed for the night. Having slept and eaten she felt better, contacted a friend and left.

What she wanted was refuge and a sign that someone cared.

If you were one of the therapists what would you have done?

This is more of a rhetorical question as no one really knows what he or she would do until faced with the dilemma but I wanted to write this by way of an introduction to my world.

I don’t intend writing much about my life as a therapist as therapy is an anathema to many whose cultural perspective in dealing with personal issues does not necessarily entail paying to speak with a stranger on a regular basis, and may consider the best therapy is to talk through issues with friends and family. Psychotherapy is very much a Western ideal developed from the psychoanalytic ideas of Freud (Austrian) and Jung (Swiss) who placed free association, i.e. saying whatever comes into your thoughts, at the core of the exploration of the mind.

I won’t go into the whole theoretical machinations of the psyche but needless to say its complex as psychoanalysis places value on the conscious and unconscious drives of the individual influenced by upbringing and lived experience. A famous anthropologist stated ‘it takes a village to raise a child’ and I agree with this premise.  I place value on family, relationships, community and society and see the individual as a component of the whole. We all belong to each other and we all effect each other by our actions.

The point of my opening story is that I was the therapist who offered my home to the woman who told me she had run away. I didn’t give it a second thought, largely due to the unexpectedness of this issue and my being in the middle of training. However, my response was as a fellow woman, not as a professional. I was surprised at how easily and quickly I offered her basic support and the train fare back to my home without a second thought. The other therapists participating, who knew what had happened, said I was brave, others stupid. In hindsight I was relieved the woman had left and had no need of refuge but I was also interested in my reaction and saw I had automatically responded with compassion and intelligent kindness, not because I’m a therapist but just because that’s me.  I would certainly want the same to happen to my friends and family if they found themselves in the same awful predicament.

Anyway, life happens when we are living our lives and we can’t predict every potential occurrence but in todays society more and more unexpected and uninvited happenings are taking place everyday from young women being kidnapped and held hostage as sex slaves, who got up that morning thinking they were just going to school like any other day. Gay clubbers just going out for the night socialising with friends found themselves brutally injured or indeed dead. A female MP got up this morning went into work to hold a surgery for her constituents’ as normal but was shot dead as she left her office. No one expected these atrocities as they started the day. If they did no one would leave their homes. I guess that’s the same for the woman who sort sanctuary in the building where I was teaching and I certainly wasn’t expecting her.

I admit I felt good about myself afterwards, as I had managed to follow my instincts and done something useful, this being my intention as a therapist and as a person. I’m just saying what’s the point of living if we can’t be useful to others whilst remaining open to the potential of the unexpected? Another rhetorical question, but one that may spark a debate.


Cathryn Johns has worked in forensic and mental health settings for the past 30 years pre and post qualifying in art psychotherapy. Kate is an educator, author, editor, supervisor and most recently qualified in NHS Leadership.




We Are Adjusting, Small Small:

This past couple of months sha. …

Sincerely speaking, at some point I was beginning to think I needed to seek spiritual help. Or was it because I hadn’t paid my tithe in almost 7 years?
(Hahahaha. .. I just caught the attention of all my Religiously Correct brothers and sisters)

Everything suddenly took a turn. The full effect of the Nigeria Economy had started to do me ‘wan kain’. Various eventful events added its own join sef.

Petrol became Gold. Electricity went South. No money in the System. Salary didn’t go up, and it became worthy of a testimony if your employer continued to pay your Wages.

So I pulled out my expense sheet to reconcile. For some strange reasons, my energy consumption had started to go down – this is, considering the recent increase in pump price to an unprecedented N145/ltr

Ah ah, ki lo nshele ni bi yii?

Even more strangely, fuel stations are mostly empty these days. Are people not buying fuel again? Sometimes I have to look, again and again, at the emptiness in these filling stations, to determine if there was actually no fuel or that the station simply don’t have customers. It has been a, no customer, situation!

Oh oh. ..

 2016-06-17 15.30.36


Nigerians have started to find their new equilibrium. For me, my ‘irin gbere gbere’ has reduced drastically. The fuel in my car is now strictly for, commute to anywhere of benefit and benefit ONLY.
Curiously, I am now hearing glorious news about the BRT mass transit system (AC is tight and working well. The buses are on time. It’s even faster to get to your destination sef. Many many things you hear when Nigerians have decided to stylishly downgrade their habits 🙂 )

We are in a ‘Gba Fun Olohun’ State of Adjustment.

So on a cursory look when driving-by any of the BRT stops, I now see a lot more smartly dressed middle classers, in line, to get on the bus. LOL!

Isn’t that what we have been talking about?

 Black Outs

That Electricity palaver nko? Reflecting again, I’m not even bothered if ‘they bring’ light these days. If they’ like, take it in the middle of the night, trust me, my sleep will just engage gear 4 and move on.
And that’s not just me. My fellow Middle Class Estate Residents are in sync with me on this one. The generators don’t roar into action as quickly as it used to be.

“We can’t come and die”.

Even God is forgiving these days. Weather is now cool and fine.

A couple of months back shortly after it dawned on us that the Nigerian Economy was drunk with sapele water – 48% ogogoro pure white spirit – God was, coincidentally, also VERY angry at Nigerians! We have been badly behaved children.
He was boiling, such that the weather conditions were hitting 40deg celsius – even in the mid of the night when the moon is, supposedly, high up overlooking the ocean. You can imagine. This was also when The Miscreants, Niger Delta Avengers started blowing up pipelines, and Energy supplies (fuel and electricity) dropped across board.

The black-outs were bad. You will be sleeping like dis, and in the dream, it will appear you now have a new job working at a bakery located in hell. I would always break out in sweat. Sticky sweat,that I had also acquired a body (H)odor.

Ilu ti da’ru

But I think God too have chilled a bit. He is no longer vexing anyhow. He is most likely now using his mouth to blow cool breeze on us. I have a feeling he loves Nigeria specially. We are just stupid people. But he loves us.

Nigerians are hopefully now adjusting to a new reality. We can’t afford to go on recklessly again. This probably explains why the NLC call for strike, failed woefully!

Think about it, no one can easily afford an increase to N145/ltr and the consequences of rising food prices. NLC requested mass action, yet we politely declined. Why? Because we are learning the truth by the day. Sacrifices have to be made NOW, for a better tomorrow.

We are adjusting. My expense sheet is indicative of my new reality. I have started adjusting.

Life at 40

At 40, you cannot, considerably, be regarded as a youth, anymore.
Your Failure or Success in life now completely rest on your shoulder (and effort). You are now expected to take up responsibility and be responsible for your actions and the action of those in your care (depending on your values).
Even if your earlier path had been disadvantaged. It is a time to (re)create your future.
Stakes are up!