Taurus Me, Taurus You…

What’s the meaning of that, “Taurus Me, Taurus You”?

KNOWING ME, KNOWING YOU.

Na lie! Uro! Talk true nah! Abi ABBA dey sing for your ears?

Not a Case of ABA or OWERRI singing for my earlobes but I will talk true, the true and nothing but the true.

You mean the TRUTH and nothing but the TRUTH? No be so?

Yaah! “Omi eko, eko nah ni”. Whether TRIBUTARY or DISTRIBUTARY na the same liquid content.

Na truth you ‘kill’. You no ‘assassinate’ LIE at all. So, you can “Spoke on”. You’re protected with executive BULLET-PROOF Crest “like no man has ever seen before”.

Hmm? I hope you are not quoting the unquotable man across the Mighty Ocean. Well, na you sabi your early Monday Morning gobbledegook, sha.

Leave that AGIDIGBO drumbeat for now. Spoke on! Permission granted for you to “suicide yourself” grammatically, if need be, on your own DAY on the QUICKSAND of TIME (on Facebook). O ya!

Thank you. As I was trying to say, MAY 4 is a Cool BD. Let everybody Come on Board and Know More. It’s turn by turn after all. Emilokan.Iwolokan! AWALOKAN, “Awa Omo MAY” Ready to make HAY while the MAY Sun shines.

Sure?

Sure. The Taurus group is here.

Who are they?

People born between April 20 and May 20 are the special of the Homo sapiens.

What makes them special,if I may ask, whether they are OMO “serpents” or OMO detergent?

OMO serpents ko, OMO snakes ni!

Wetin me I kuku know? Sebi you know say I no know book.

If you no know na today you go know say these people are of a special breed whether you label them OMO or SURF Detergent. Na you sabi that one. Me I no dey there. I don WARM you o!

“O ya, na straight like that iya alamala for Ibadan” make we see. We just dey hear sounds of Dundun and Shekere every time a new bunch of birthday guys is around. It is always celebration galore. And you can’t blame them. If you share birthday dates with notable figures like the late Queen Elizabeth II, who was born April 21 or Mike Adenuga, the founder of GLO who was born April 29…

I like that but how I wish you can concentrate more on the big names of the past before pointing in the direction of latter-day BULLS like the Mike Adenugas.

If you so wish, why not? By the way, have you heard of Catherine, the great?

Who the hell is so called?

Students of History know that Catherine was the Empress of Russia in the 18th Century who ruled Russia with “,enlightened absolutism”, (so they say) , expanding the territories of Russia and at the same time extending the frontiers of Russian Arts and Culture. Trust, na MAY Woman be that. Actually she was born on May 2. Great Taurus of the Eastern Bloc.

Really?

Other big names of history who are Taurus include Karl Marx, the revolutionary ideologue who was born on May 5 and Sigmund Freud , father of Psychoanalysis, May 6. And of course we have the great Florence Nightingale, celebrated English Nurse, May 12, who started the Nursing profession. And even we have a tough military guy called Moshe Dayan, the one - eyed Israeli military commander who became a household name during the (“Fast Food”)1967 Six-Day-war between Israel and Egypt. A tough Taurus in military fatigue, you would say?

Yes! Now, let me ask this, what are the common traits among these Tauruses that make them tick?

That’s asking what make Taurus people special among the rest. Abi? Or what makes them stand out in a crowd? Why do people like them?

That’s exactly what I want to know.

And I’m ready to give it to you as it is. “Loju Paali”. Wholesale! No colouration, no complexion, no circumlocution, no “operation Wonyosi”, just as it is. Taurus people are gentle, even tempered, modest and slow to anger. But woe betides whoever takes for granted their amiable character. That one na “ina piti”! Fire on the mountain! “Inanjo ogiri’osa”!

How do you mean ?

They are not easily irritated but when they are, which is very rare, they can explode into violent outbursts of ferocious anger in which they seem to lose all self control. No entreaties will move them as they will “tanda gidigba” like Olumo Rock on the same spot unmoved, unshaken.

Lobatan!

Na “rererun” be that!

Just don’t push a Taurus to the wall. If he loses his cool, a drunken bull in a china shop will be better behaved. You dare not, and I mean it. Don’t blow their fuse, I warn. To be forewarned is to be “five armed”. Sixarmed paapa! No be joke. Eewo! Taboo!! Tabunnde!!!

You don’t mean it, do you?! But I learnt these people are very cool, introverted sons and daughters of Adam (and Eve), how come they can so easily fall off the handle, just like that?!

Don’t misunderstand them. They are human beings like you and me, and when they are not angry, which is less seldom so, they have a strong aesthetic taste, enjoying ART, for which they may have talent, BEAUTY, especially of the environment, And, wait a minute, they do occasionally plunge into fits of humour, with a capital ‘H’, and, of course, MUSIC. They love the sound of music. And they can easily commune with the spirits of the floor with their naturally choreographed dance steps. You can bet on that! They are ever loaded with FUN, be it on the dance floor or on the canvas of creation. Talk less of in the class or staff room or whatever room!

Not like the famous Buhari Third Room, sha.

No, they are too serious, if not too saintly, for that kind of inner recesses shenanigans.

Alagba! Elonkoko? By the way can you spare a few seconds to intimate us of what their zodiac sign is.

The Bull, of course, while their ruling planet is Venus.

Venus like in Venus and Serena Williams, the legendary “tegbon taburo “ super lawn tennis stars?

“Kilanwi? Kininwi?” What are we saying? What are you talking about? Not that kind of Venus, nah.

Which Venus then, like in body cream on the Vanity table?

Just “farabale”. Be patient. In astrology, Venus is the ruling planet for Taurus. It represents: love and relationships, beauty and aesthetics, values and finances and, of course, PLEASURE and SENSUALITY..

Say that again! Pleasure and Sensu-“kinni”? Kilope?! Kilowi? Kiliwe?!

Here we go again. “As Taurus is an earth sign, Venus’s influence emphasizes practical sensual, and material aspects of LIFE. Tauruses are often drawn to comfort,beauty, and stability, valuing loyalty and sensual pleasures”.

Akiika! That word again?! Hope you won’t quote yourself into AISHA trouble, sha.

You now know why they call Mike Adenuga, the GLO man, the BULL. It represents his Zodiac Sign. Now coming nearer home, MAY 4, there are some world and local figures born on the 4th of May.

It is a spectacular DAY on the American calendar and people look at you with envy for belonging to this special breed of “Mayfarers”…

Who are the Mayfarers? Are they people who passed out of Tai and Sheila Solarin’s Mayflower School, Ikenne?

Suegbe! Maawo e! Look at you! Ikenne ko, Palm Kernel ni. We dey talk about IRU (locust bean) You think say na ORU (IJEBU) we dey talk about. Well, MAYFARER is a name coined to refer to all people born in the month of May and who are likened to wayfarers on the Road of Life, the journey everybody embarks on the very day they crawl out of the cradle. A journey that only terminates in the GRAVE. It is inevitable. It’s only the exact EXPIRY DATE that nobody knows.

Hmmm…Akiika! But why is May 4 so special and so spectacular?!

I don’t know of Naija but in America May 4th is famously known as “Star Wars Day” due to the pun on the phrase, “May the Force be with you” becoming “May the Fourth be with you”. I remember the day I was first made conscious of the special significance attached to May 4. It was at a clinic in Albany, NY, (that’s the capital of New York State) and as part of check-in formalities your DOB (date of birth) is as good as your paper ID. Immediately I mentioned May 4, “ 19 Kinninkan “, it was as if an African prince was in town. Almost everybody’s attention was focused on me. I didn’t know why the seeming commotion. Needless to say I was a little embarrassed until I got to know why. Yeyenatu!

Today I feel happy sharing same birthday, May 4, with figures like Stella Parton, singer, song writer, author, sister of the more famous Dolly Parton, my favourite Country music maestro (apart from Don Williams and Kenny Rogers) . She was born on May 4, 1949. Same with Cesc Fabregas of the Arsenal football FC fame who was born on May 4, 1987. There is also Jackie Jackson, a member of the famous Jackson family that produced the likes of Michael Jackson and Janet Jackson of the famous (?) wardrobe malfunction…

Haba! Which one be that nah? Wetin concern wardrobe ‘accident’ for May 4?

Not to worry. “AJINAMOTO ni gbogbo e!” Don’t answer (mind?) me, jare.

Anybody from the homefront here?

Dem boku but as our people are wont to say, let’s allow “omo ko ku wa lati owo iya e”.

Itumo? What kind of gobbledegook be that? This is OJUELEGBA proper. Total confusion, Texaco disorientation and Mobil standstill! Chaos!

Hmmm…Baba Whizkid!

Let them celebrate themselves as they are wont to. All I can do is to wish them well as they mark a new May 4 milestone today. Let them forge ahead in the march towards the final denouement in glory with amazing grace.

Happy birthday to fellow Fourth of May-farers and all Taurus ladies and gentlemen who are lucky enough, like ME, to reach yet another milestone today. Happy New WE!

The Living Legend of an Amazing Couple

They both reach the 90th Milestone the same year. One was born in February, 1936. The other followed closely in April, the month jointly agreed to be their month of celebration this year.

Wow!

Theirs is an incredible tale of love, passion and faith. For almost six decades they have lived together as husband and wife and still going strong in the love that brought them together more than sixty ago.

Who are this ‘they’ gan an?

Step out, sir, Sir James Adenkola Afolabi, and Lady Lucy Emiola Afolabi, nee OLOMO. Both belong to the Order of the Knights and Ladies of St. Mulumba respectively, one of the highest Pontifical Orders of Knighthood awards in the Catholic Church.

Iyen ni! That’s cute. Isn’t it?

Yaah, it is. But you haven’t seen nothing yet. Being honoured together this way is not the only way of projecting the somewhat “Siamese twin” connections between this incredible “toko taya”( married couple).

Shhh…what and how do you mean by that?

Se you wan hear ‘tory abi you no wan hear ‘tory? Answer me!

Why not, if not?

Then “farabale” (tarry a little) and “tetileko” (listen attentively) to the amazing story of this modern day “Romeo and Juliet”.

Uro! Na lie! For where? Love in Tokyo for for these nonagenarians?!

You don’t know anything. Maawo e! Look at you, as if LOVE is mainly and only on the exclusive list of the GENZIES and, by the way, do you think TRUE LOVE can only be found in Nollywood and Bollywood films? You must be kidding.

Okay, thanks for the ‘’Guardiola half time Pep talk’, so to speak, and teasing innuendoes. Can we now have the full “tale of the tape”? Enough of the ELONKOKO digression and “rounbadout” circumlocution all over the place.

Sorry if I have in any way overshot the runway. Not to worry, sha.. I hold a ringside ticket to their stranger than life rope-a-dope shadow boxing.

Come again! You mean you know the couple “deledele”, in and out, warts and all,

Really? Then let’s gg to town with you at the steering wheel.

I will and wherever I miss the way I’ll surely make a U-turn and do a hurried recalculation with the ever ready GPS, as it were. It may interest you that the couple grew up in similar circumstances and plotted their educational career along similar routes. After primary school education in their respective hometowns of NATO(read from the back🤣)and NAYO (read from the back) they both attended teacher training colleges (Grades 3 and 2) before proceeding abroad in search of the proverbial “Golden Fleece”. Up to this stage they had not known or met each other.

And, I’m sure, the Cupid Arrow had not been fired or telegraphed in any form.

Spot on! No, not at all. Their paths were yet to cross. Yet the “umbilical tapestry” of love and virtual similarities continued to be woven. Each came back from abroad with a degree in Geography. The choice of subject seemed preordained.

Funny you. How do you mean?

It was in the process of teaching Geography in secondary schools that their paths finally crossed.

Wonderment! The gods must be at work!

Hold it! .What have you heard that you are already exclaiming? Follow me go. “Telemi kalo lonjebe e”. Either by mutual agreement or coincidence they started pursuing complementary courses that aligned perfectly with their vision in Pedagogy. Husband had his first degree in education from the famous Fourah Bay College, Sierra Leone. Wife too had to top her Geography degree with a post-graduate diploma course in education at the University of Ibadan where I first “jammed” her on the pedestal of education. I was a Johnny Just Come, JJC, undergraduate in the premier university when she decided to add another feather to her “academic gele”. The hubby was not done yet either. He did a post graduate diploma in Public Administration in the then University of Ife, now Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile Ife. He later came to the University of Ibadan for a Master’s in Urban Planning and Development.

What a couple! Reading and reading, sha! Na wah o!

Well. It has augured well for them. They know the value of education and they want to show by example what it is to be educated. The legacy the two want to hand over to the generations after them is LOVE for EDUCATION. Pedagogues of their caliber are wont to plead to the younger generations to lay a great premium on education, the roots of which may be sour but its fruits are definitely sweet. They have their EMI-KOLA FOUNDATION to prove this. The foundation was 20 years old this April just as their marriage was exactly 57 years old on April 24, thereby making last Friday’s Big Do a three-in-one event.

List them for me, pls.

Why not?

Their 90th birthday anniversary was a launch pad of sorts for their 57th wedding anniversary and also the 20th anniversary of “Emi-Kola Afolabi Foundation” for the education of the children of the less privileged.

Good job! And what were people saying about the couple in their tributes?

They talked a lot about their joint struggle for survival in the old days, their spartan discipline and legendary religious muscularity. Their abode is a showcase of their Faith. Everywhere smells of Roman Catholicism. They would attend early morning mass everyday and that notwithstanding they have a miniature altar at home for afternoon and evening prayers. If you visit them for even a brief moment you may catch them praying at particular hours and surely as you bid them bye. They are extremely religious, to the admiration of neighbours, friends, relations and colleagues, alike, and the Catholic echelons wherever they stay be it in Ife or Ibadan or Osogbo or Oyan or Otan, the Afolabis do not joke with “Ave Maia” rosary recitations. They are that deep in their Fath…. People also talked about how they brought up their children to be humble and content with whatever they have and that they should be kind and caring. I can go on and on and on.

Any take away?

Like what?

Like maybe a soundbite or exceptional phrase or saying from those oral or written tributes?

Thanks for reminding me. Yes, there’s this inspiring thing said by one of the children on how their parents brought them up.

Bring it up!

The guy was quite appreciative and forthcoming about what he called the ITELORUN philosophy of his parents which was well espoused by him as the philosophy of being content with whatever you have and being humble, kind and selfless in dealing with others. As if talking direct from the podium he had this to say: “You constantly talked (to us) of being an OBI (meaning Others Before I ) and not being

I Before Others”.

What’s the acronym for that?

To me that’s what I call TINKO (Dry meat that fills the mouth) philosophy. I think that’s the quintessential EMI-KOLA (Afolabi) Couple. They are OBI and not IBO. Real selfless people. Glory to Jesus!

Honour to Mary!

20 Hearty Cheers! 57 Gbas Gbos!! And 90 Hearty Gbas-Gbos Gbosas for the amazing, graceful and grateful-to-the-Lord nonagenarians. Many happy returns of April 24, the common denominator for the big anniversaries.

Ire o!

Departure and Arrival in Aljanah

Giving birth or dying abroad used to be the vogue in those days. 

Really? Why?   What for?

For social and/or religious reasons. Simple! Simplicita!!

Explain yourself, Baba Simple.

You can call me any name. Who cares? No hassle. Some people want to acquire citizenship of other countries to be entitled to certain rights and privileges, in a nutshell social welfare as provided by the country of particular interest like the US, UK, France or even Germany,  of all countries!

Why of all countries!? Your emphasis, not mine. Why?

Because that’s where “babanla awon to fe drive wa comot” from original Noman’s  Land , came from. Just imagine!

Can you rephrase that for clarity sake?

Why not? Simply means kettle calling pot black.

Still off trajectory. Can you still come closer to my level? Or as they  say it in local parlance, can you reduce the height of “akuko Mecca”?

Lobatan! Akuko Mecca! Well I don’t want to prolong the matter, but let the city mouse tell the bush rat that one aparo bird is not taller than the other except the one that wants to claim advantage by perching on earthen stool at the weigh-in formalities.

Itumo?

Meaning immigrant na immigrant. Everyone in “obodo dike” is immigrant and no one is more immigrant than the other. So there is no crime in aspiring to make a better living abroad where their forefathers had handed them a legacy of hospitality for people from other parts of the world who also have a Dream like Rev Martin Luther King Jnr to live in a country that places premium on the sanctity and dignity of man, a land of freedom and liberty to pursue, grab and salivate happiness like Pavlov’s dog.

Thank you so much. If this or these countries of your dream can allow what I see as birth tourism, does it also allow people who want to die to come  and die here?

O ti o! Mba mba mba, eewo. Kinla?

Come and die ke?! Where in the world do they do that?

I learn France is one country that advertises for people to come and die in their country.

Ah! Come and KU ke? Impossican’t!

Tanda there like Soja Idumota and be shouting “pussycat”. Na you sabi that. Even sef you fit talk of Tiger or Samanja whiskers. You mean say you never heard of SEE PARIS AND DIE before?

How can anybody want to go to Paris to die when Mecca and Medina dey there? I even suspect some people , if they have the money would want to go and die in Jerusalem.

You mean some people “fit jakpa” to a foreign land to die?! 

It’s not that simple. But if truth must be told there are some fanatical, extreme religious adherents who will be happy to die in the Holy land wherever it is located and be buried there. Muslims, in particular, who believe the shortest route to aljanah is the one from Mecca. Few had been lucky in this regard though, who, by happenstance gave up the ghost while on pilgrimage and were buried there. There was, however, one instance of somebody who wished to be buried in Mecca if and when he died. As Fate would have it he eventually died while on a lesser hajj one pilgrimage season and was buried there according to his dream wish. Allahu Akbar!

Any idea who that was?

Do we need to interrogate the dead? Rather let’s pray that Allah grant him “Aljanah Fridaus”. Just as we pray for the recently deceased former chief Justice of Nigeria who reportedly died in the holy land.  Other notable Nigerians who died in Mecca include Tawakaltu Busare Alako , a pilgrim from Kebbi State who passed  away and was buried there, Sheikh Abdulrahman Maigoro from Gombe who died after completing the Hajj rites, Hajiya Bilikisu Yusuf, a notable journalist who reportedly met her death in a stampede while performing the year’s Hajj, along with  one Prof Tijani El-Miskin and some others like the six who died in a crane mishap along with other pilgrims from other parts of the world.

How about Christian pilgrims wanting to die in Jerusalem also in order to go to heaven?

Not much is heard of overzealous Christians who weep more than the bereaved women of Jericho, who harbor the idea of going to Jerusalem to die, probably because they too believe heaven is a stone throw from the Holy Land.

Most likely one holy land is holier than the other and that may account for the lack of enthusiasm to pay attention (homage?) to Death tourism to the Christian Holy Land.

To me I think it is much ado about aljanah. The pilgrim who drops dead on the  legendary clean Mecca Streets, and the wannabe pilgrim of Obun Eko (heart of dirt?) in Lagos Island who dies in his dump site of a home, will all end up in the same Aljanah. Yaashin!

DAN, THE MAN, DAMN TOO WITTY

 Master crafter. Writer extra ordinaire. Wordsmith per excellence. Like his friend and colleague, Ray,  he  was a polished, well disciplined commander of language. He knew how to make words do his bidding just as the famous footballer, David Beckham, knows how to bend the ball to do his wish with spot kicks. Ray (Ekpu) is on equal footing with the MASTER. He is  also a king of Verbal Dexterity. 

We all knew Dan had blue blood flowing in his vein, being of Idoma Royalty stock,  but he never donned garlands of royalty. Neither did he wear a princely bracelet on his sleeves to show he was of  a royal breed. All for a just cause..

The tiger does not proclaim its tigritude to the world,  goes a saying, instead it projects it in the elegance of its poise, gait and ferocity of attack.  Dan did not need the services of a megaphone to showcase his pedigree. Instead he projected grace and humility in his dealings with people within his  sphere of influence. 

Yet,  he had a commanding presence. You can’t but give him his due. Oga Dan knew his onions. Peeling them for others to sniff at was a welcome opportunity on his table. The literary  menu was always there to whet your appetite to seek, strive and learn for the advancement of NewsWatch, the magazine he cofounded  and nurtured with Dele Giwa, Ray Ekpu and Yakubu Mohammed.

Theirs was a combination of different cultural backgrounds, talents and interests but a common objective to establish a magazine of international standard in content and style but with a deft touch of local flavor. A kind of ideal fusion of  brilliant minds who wanted to harness their  erstwhile milestones achievements in journalism to cast  GOLDEN  TOUCHSTONES  of professional excellence for others to take a cue from.

It was a perfect team. Giwa, the charismatic American trained journalist, brought his mastery of picturesque, nay cinematic,  writing  style imbued with a knack for details to the table of investment. Mohammed, a  seasoned newsman to the core,  who had proved his mettle on the Concord group of newspapers as an astounding editor, was an equally strong pillar in the FOUR SQUARE configuration. The philosopher king was Ray while Dan was the doyen of brevity, point blank accuracy and  sardonic humour (in his satirical pieces) that could drill a gaping  hole in  a diaphragm made of concrete.

A major thing the four musketeers brought into newsmagazine production was  the introduction of the  avant garde PREFACE TO COVER, a philosophical assay into the week’s cover story, a kind of preview of the central theme. It’s both a stand alone as well as an integral part of the story. 

The three were masters of the art of PREFACE writing and they guarded it as an intellectual trove which Oga Yak was capable of, too, but he was apparently excused from the rigors of “philosophy’, as it were, to face squarely the job of news gathering and presentation, the major task of the magazine. And he did a great job of it. To assist him was Soji  Akinrinade  aka General of the (writing ) ‘forces’ in the newsroom.

I reported directly to Ray in the Back of the Book section of the magazine. We  both shared some attributes, literary and personal, known  to the trio (Dan, Ray and Giwa). Soon I was co-opted into the PREFACE writing group reporting directly to Giwa as the editor in chief and CZAR of the PREFACE ‘cult’ , as it appeared to other members of staff. Then, the UNFORETOLD happened! 

Barely two years of experimenting with investigative journalism and avant garde literary style,  TRAGEDY  came not stealthily but with a bang!  The parcel bombs came  seemingly from nowhere but surely and definitely from evil men, (strangely still at large 39 years after!) barely two years into the magazine’s existence, to blast off the arrow head of the journalistic revolution, a sort of “ counter revolutionary insurgency” against intellectual professionalism (as well as professional intellectualism.). Newswatch has not been the same ever since. Mission accomplished for the parcel bombers , DREAM KILLERS?

Nature abhors vacuum. Newswatch did not die with the parcel-bombed chief executive. Dele Giwa’s death brought Dan in as the head of the NewWatch organisation and editor in chief. Now I had a new helmsman to report to as  PREFACE writer. It was a new ball game entirely. It was like starting all over again. Dan was too thorough for me. He would make sure you dot all the proverbial  i’s and cross the cliche t’s. No long unwinding, if not unwieldy, sentences. He loved them short. Dan, the boss, could start a piece with one word, the shorter, the better, he would say. To him brevity is it!  It is the soul of accuracy. No shadow boxing. No gerrymandering. He was our in-house Chike Obi. Seriously! The shortest distance between two points is a straight line.  He seemed to be telling us. He could easily fathom the ‘X’  factor in any editorial equation. With him you have no business dribbling the reader like Maradona on the field of play. Express, not impress with circumlocution, he would advise and ‘tutor’ us and me in particular, his young protege. Some of us jokingly referred to him as “editorial terrorist”. Far from it. 

“The rice grain suffers under the blows of the pestle”, wrote the late Vietnamese leader, Ho Chi Mihn, on the prison wall  while incarcerated in a North Vietnamese prison, “but (it) admires its beauty once the ordeal is over…”. Being under Dan’s tutelage was no “ordeal”. The Idoma Prince was only putting us in the  editorial furnace to polish us into  18 karat gems in the writing profession. Today we are the better for it. 

He meant well.

No doubt he was a great teacher and goal getter, per se. Like my other colleagues in Newswatch I learnt a lot from him. Yes, he suffered no fools gladly but he knew how to “unfrown”  (defreeze) your frowning (frozen) face and clean out your blood shot, angry eyes with  swaps of humour.  

A particular occasion warranted Dan, one day, at the weekly editorial Conference, to display the humour merchant in him when he almost brought the roof  of the newsroom down. 

And how did that come about?  

It was when he, a Benue oga, “yabbed” another Benue oga (Yak) over a somewhat innocuous editorial snafu, “Ya Ku bu”! , he bellowed, “you don  drink burukutu bah’?! . (Oga Yak is a devout Muslim who would naturally not have a sip of burukutu). “Ah!”, exclaimed Oga Yak with his typical smile.  The resultant  “laugh-proar” was a seismic vibration that almost tore  through the eardrums! 

That’s Dan for you.  And that’s just a tip off his paraphernalia of spontaneous,  hilarious jokes sandwiched with wits and wisecracks laced with local flavor  and intellectual panache. Damn  too witty. Dan, the boss! He will be sorely missed. 

Eternal rest grant him, O Lord.

Sometime Ago in One December I Saw Mummy Kissing Santa Claus

Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way… I hear the bells announcing the coming of Xmas. Do you hear what I hear? Come on, ring those bells again. Jingle bells, jingle bells… 

Hark! The Herald angels sing. Yet everything is silent. Well, it’s Silent Night, holy night… Angels from the realms of glory sing. From Heaven Above to earth they come singing, “We Wish You a Merry Xmas…”

Good music to the ears. But, daddy, this Xmas sounds like a messy Xmas to me. Everything is Still, Still, Still. Nothing is moving… Here they come, all ye faithful. Tearful, not triumphant but hopeful. They all wear long faces. Their eyes are blood-shot. Have they gone to Jeddah or Bethlehem to see the old or the new king? Our Sunday School teacher says we must appreciate him. 

O come, let us adore Him, whether born of Holy Virgin Mary or Holy Virgin Mariam. It’s Joy to the World. C’mon, ring those bells again. Sing the song, Ding Dong Merrily on High/In heaven the bells are ringing/Ding dong verily the sky/Is heaven with angels singing/ Glo-o-o-o-ria, Hosanna in excelsis. 

The choirmaster has promised to play another old song. Let there be peace on earth. We sing it every year and it is becoming a cliché. This is a unipolar world, yet with multi-polar problems. War in the east; war in the west. Iraq, Afghanistan, Israel-Palestine, drug wars in Latin America… But while ideological divides are narrowing, religious gulfs are widening. 

]Then a “political child” was born to the world. His name is Barack Obama. Will somebody ask somebody to shout, Alleluyah? Not yet. 

Here Comes Santa Claus to deliver his Xmas goodies. Daddy, what do you want? Ah! Ah! Ah! Daddy is shaking his snow-white head. All he wants for Xmas is his two front teeth. Teeth that got broken while eating bones as meat. 

“Everybody pauses and stares at me/These two teeth are gone as you can see/I don’t know just who to blame for this catastrophe!/But my one wish on Xmas eve is as plain as it can be!/All I want for Xmas is my two front teeth, my two front teeth…” Gee! Daddy wants brand-new teeth for Xmas but he has forgotten that the dentist needs electricity to power his instruments. For the umpteenth time, government has sustained gloom during Xmas. No water. No electricity. No fuel. No generator to even recharge the inverter! 

Now, Daddy has got a brand-new song, “All I want for Xmas is 6,000 megawatts…” That will be the most wonderful day of the year when it happens. Can you imagine the country generating electricity at full capacity? How beautiful will the cities and towns be on Xmas eve? Can somebody shout, Alleluyah? 

What for? Sadly enough, the three kings of Orient love civilisation but not our Herods. They would rather strangle our hope in the manger. But Daddy, you don’t have to lose a heartbeat over that. This is a season of hope and joy. So, Daddy Have Yourself a Merry Little Xmas if grandma cannot. 

Poor grandma! She went out to buy candles and matches when her neighbourhood was thrown into darkness and, guess what happened, Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer! Yet we still wish her happyholiday. But grandma is not happy. She is confined into a wheelchair like our country’s paralysed dream. And so for The Twelve Days of Xmas we shall pray and sing for grandma. But Daddy, do not say I told you what I saw when mummy took us to see Father Xmas many years ago. Daddy, you promise me? I Saw Mummy Kissing Santa Claus! You may not believe me but that’s what I saw. But come, Daddy, have you ever imagined what Father Xmas will be doing the rest 364 days? He is a human being after all. So, he can steal a kiss or two while on duty. Daddy, forgive mummy in the true spirit of the Yuletide. She could have been kissed under duress. The world is changing. Nowadays, anybody, even criminals, can be Father Xmas. 

Life is still Ding dong merrily on high but no Gloria in excelsis. Every year the poor masses hear of Xmas. They hear of turkeys. They hear of hampers. They hear of carols. Christmas is coming/The geese are getting fat,/Please put a penny/In the old man’s hat/If you haven’t got a penny,/A ha’penny will do,/If you haven’t got a ha’penny/Then God bless you. Daddy, have you thrown your widow’s mite in the beggar’s bowl? I have given my own, the pocket money you gave me. After giving the little I had, I started beating my drums and one little angel whispered to me, “Little Drummer Boy, God bless you.” True, I’m a little drummer boy out with his drums and tambourines to welcome both the new-born and the reborn king to the world. Like the Magi (the three kings of the Orient), I embarked on a journey in the cold desert in search of the God of gods, Light of light, King of kings, the only Begotten, not created, Son of the Holy Father who grew and developed in the womb of a virgin. Holy Mary! Holy Virgin! Alas, the King of Angels had been sequestered far from Herod’s arm’s way. I did not see Him in Bethlehem or Jerusalem. It was somebody else I saw and that was in Jeddah. I said: Barka da Chrismois but he did not respond. Yaya de? Still he would not answer. Bako mi? Still no response. “Menene?” No dice. This is a season of goodwill, I tried to explain. He was just looking at me as if I had just dropped from Mount Arafat. I started singing: “We wich you a morri Chrismois/We wich you a morri Chrismois and a haffy nu yah.” The reborn king looked dazed. He was motionless. I said I had come with good tidings and he should not fear. I said your enemies may wish you a messy Xmas, I’m not here to join the bandwagon to wish you ill luck or to "emphasise" your indisposition to a radical change in the polity but to wish you well. I told him what fellow countrymen want from their reborn king. They want him to initiate a rebirth of nationalism in their sub-conscious. They want a reborn or would-be king that will celebrate Eid el Kabirwith Muslims in Calabar and Xmas with Christians in Sokoto while a lighted Xmas tree gleams with the season’s goodwill in the seat of power in Abuja. Only then can we truthfully sing Joy to the World and open a new vista of hope for mankind.

First appeared in TELL Magazine, December, 2009 under the title

A MESSY XMAS  FOR DADDY.