Back to the Future – My Link to the Past 200 Years

I had my 91-year old dad stay with me last month for almost two weeks. My intention was to go and visit him upcountry. However, my wife wisely advised bringing him to Lagos so that I could have quality time with him. I am glad I took her advice. Typically, my visits to see him were flying visits lasting anything between two hours to a maximum of one day. So bringing him to Lagos, although a valued break for him became an invaluable opportunity for me to be around him for a considerable length of time. It was certainly the first time in many years that we would stay under the same roof for that length of time.

Unusually for a person of his age, my dad is in remarkable good physical and mental health. He has a sharp mind and excellent memory. He is also quite sprightly for his age, he still drove himself around town until I put my foot down late last year.

During his stay with me, we talked morning and evening and every time in between. Just before retiring to bed on the first night of his arrival, he asked that we pray together, and proceeded to recite from memory five chapters of the Book of Psalms - 130, 91, 24, 23 and 99 - without as much as taking a breath. Those Psalms, particularly the 99th chapter were part of my life story. It was Psalm 99 that introduced me to the awesomeness of God as soon as I could think and reason. As a young boy, I used to picture God seated on the throne, the earth quaking and peoples trembling. The English language does not do sufficient justice to this Psalm; it's definitely much more dramatic, and certainly makes more sense when read or said in Yoruba.

My dad’s two little luxuries were warm water for his bath and hot chocolate with breakfast. Once he comes downstairs in the morning, he stays until the time to go bed at about 9pm or whenever I suggested. I was always worried he would miss a step on the concrete stairs, but he descended and ascended without any incidents. Once he had his meals, he would sleep and wake up intermittently. Sometimes I had the TV on Yoruba channels for him. When I tried to get him a newspaper, he told me he could no longer read well, as one eye is redundant. I should have known. A few years ago my sister brought him to Lagos to see an ophthalmologist who diagnosed glaucoma and placed him on eye drops. But all is not lost; I noticed that he could accurately check the time on his mobile phone. It appears that he feels reading may be too much of a strain. On many occasions, he would sigh and say 'agba soro da' - growing old is no child’s play.

As often as possible, we went for walks around the estate which he really enjoyed. We also attended church together on Sunday. I initially didn't want to trouble him about Sunday service, not realising he had already laid out the clothes he was going to wear. In church, he sang the Yoruba songs like ‘Alagbara lOlorun mi, alagbara ni Jesu mi', ‘E gbe Baba ga,’ E gbe Baba ga, E gbe ga,’ and 'Oba lori aiye,' during worship and he appreciated the fact that the Pastor and practically everyone else came to speak to him after the service. He’s probably the oldest person ever to worship at our church.

I am fascinated by history so I spent a good chunk of my time asking him questions and recording our discussions. Although I have interviewed and recorded him in audio form in the past, this time I made sure I captured some of our discussions on video. I am trying to find out the past although my focus is mainly on the future. I want my children's children to be able to have a glimpse of their great grandfather. I hope they would thank me for it.

I did not just captured his own personal stories, I recognised that my father is my link to the last 200 years. So I have gleaned from him information about his parents, grandparents, even his great-great-grandfather. He repeated stories I have heard in the past but were now archived in my memory. For example how as a leftie, his parents tried every trick under the sun to relieve him of this 'bad' trait. They built a cage on his left hand to prevent him from eating with it. So they thought! He went around this restriction by using his right hand to place food on the cage before putting it in his mouth. He told me of how he lost a sister in 1937 placing it a year before the then reigning king, Olagbegi I died. And how it was believed at the time that an uncle was responsible for her death.

We also spoke about the many tenants who lived in our house when we were growing up. Many were soldiers, brave men who because of the heat of humid tropical evenings slept in the open courtyard at night. 

My father’s Christian faith is central to his life. We reminisce about how I would go with him on the trip he made on New Year's Day to pray at a large limestone deposit (ori oke) near Clerks Quarter. We also used to go to yet a different ‘mountain’ on Good Fridays to re-live the sufferings of Christ. Those were tough times. I remember being chased out of the shade on a scorching Good Friday afternoon, along with some others, by an ignorant elder of the church. He was appalled that we were enjoying the shade whilst Christ was suffering. Years later I realised Christ had suffered once, and for all, so that I may be free.

My dad and I also had frank but humble discussions on faith. We agreed that some practices have no place in the body of Christ. I am glad we had these discussions. On one of the days, I played the piano and we sang some worship songs together. Heavenly!

Like a typical Yoruba man of his age, his words are peppered with proverbs. They come so naturally and contextually. When I commented that he was quite lucky to still maintain a slim frame, he responded "eran gbigbe niden" (a well-roasted meat houses no maggot). When one evening, he felt he was served too much stew by the cook, he opined 'oma yo gbepan ma f'ona oja sin' (a baby on his mother's back has no idea of the length of the journey). In other words, the baby in this case is the cook who could afford to be wasteful.

When my sister visited, my dad's eyes lit up at the sight of four of his grandsons. After a meal together, he said he was grateful to God for the opportunity to eat with his grandchildren. He also thanked God for, in his words, "flowing into the third generation" i.e. becoming a great grandfather a couple of months ago. When the boys were leaving, he shot up to his room upstairs and came back bearing money for each of them.

Each night, I would go up with him to settle him into bed. Not that I had to do anything. I just watched as he gently and neatly laid out his clothes. On one of the evenings I noticed some spots all over his upper body. I found out later that these are known as age spots.

I was incredibly blessed having my dad with me. I was blessed by just watching him, mesmerised by his age and what he has seen and experienced. I often wonder what was going on in his mind. Only one of his closest friends is still alive but he has adapted well with the current generation although I know he feels our ways are weird. He is constantly talking about teaching children to speak our language and he believes everyone should have a house in their hometown. I hope to live up to be 91 and also to see my children's children.

What has been most interesting is how our roles have been reversed. In the past, it was my dad that told me what to do. Now, he listens and takes my suggestions. When the Yorubas say ‘aiye nyi’ (the world swings), they are not far from the truth. PostcardfromLagos

Postscript

My motivation for this essay is to encourage readers to mine the wisdom of their parents before it is too late. There is no excuse in this modern age to be reckless with and lose our history because we fail to act. Get a recorder, use your phone, whatever and get your parents talking about the past. Act now before it is too late.

photocredit: 1. digest.bps.org.uk; 2. lornshillacademy.com, 3. tagxedo.com

Between Bournvita & Milo

I grew up on Bournvita. At the time, we referred to everything that was taken with hot water as tea. So my father drank tea (Bournvita) every morning. My mother also made sure that tea (Bournvita) was part of our staple.  However, l longed for other cocoa brands especially Ovaltine. I felt Ovaltine was smoother, and tasted better than Bournvita, a case I suppose of what you don’t have becoming exotic. So as soon as I had my way, I opted for anything but Bournvita.

In England, the cocoa drinks have a different taste to the Nigerian brands, and are mostly salty and useless. On the other hand, Nigerian Milo was pretty accessible, so Milo it was for me until...

About three years ago, I was now living in Nigeria and planning a trip to England. An English lady requested for me to get her some Bournvita from Nigeria. Of everything in Nigeria, she only wanted Bournvita! As we say, "Can you imagine that?" She also told me it was her husband’s favourite too. So still confused about the request, I bought two packs of Bournvita for her, and picked up a pack for myself too. Then I re-discovered the richness, the texture and beauty of Bournvita. I was lost but now found. I definitely could taste again.

Porting back to Bournvita made me realise what I was missing. Taken hot or cold, Bournvita sits in a class of its own. When taken cold, which was what I did in Nigeria,  Milo, due to its smoother texture is definitely easier and faster to make than Bournvita. However there is something  fulfilling about using a spoon to marsh or 'smash' Bournvita grains into submission in cold water. It takes a reasonable degree of both dexterity and resilience without which the grains would float on the surface,  distorting the composition and taste of the drink.

Growing up, Milo had the better advert. Everyone remembers the Mi—lo clap clap clap song although I have been informed the proper pronunciation rhymes with ‘mailo’. However, I definitely love the coarseness of Bournvita, the subtle aftertaste of real cocoa that it leaves in your mouth whether you drink it hot or cold. Even the horrible design of its current packaging does not diminish the taste and beauty of its content.

Final word: Far too many people mistakenly believe the word 'beverage' is synonymous with Bournvita, Milo or other hot chocolate/cocoa drink. The reality is that practically almost everything we drink apart from water is a beverage. This includes alcoholic beverages too.

So Milo or Bournvita, to which camp do you belong? PostcardfromLagos

The Cocktail of Smoke and Dust that Chased me Away from Lagos

Last week, I ran away from home for two days. Less than a week later, I ran away from Lagos. I had no option but to do the former. I was glad I did the latter.

It all began last Wednesday when after a hard day's work, I drove home through the dreaded Lagos traffic. Truth be told, since the middle of last year, traffic on Third Mainland Bridge now flows smoothly on most days, thanks to the special lanes created where the bottlenecks used to be. 

I arrived in my estate in good time only to find a section of it enveloped by a foul-smelling smoke. It was already dark so I couldn’t make out the thickness of the smoke. At home, I tried everything to minimise the effect of the smoke. I closed the windows, got the generator on to power the air conditioners. It was still rather terrible. Somehow I managed to catch some sleep for the night. The following morning I left home at 5am to beat the usual early morning traffic.

I had concluded that the smoke that evening came from the sprawling residential and commercial settlement of Ketu and was a one-off. Many residents of adjoining estates who can’t afford proper waste disposal often burn their waste in their backyards. Though our estate is gated and manned, the fume from this burning activities make their way past the gates and security to our estate with impunity. Everyone suffers in Lagos irrespective of where you live. What I did not know on Wednesday was that it was not an isolated individual burning their refuse, but fume from the dump that welcomes you to Lagos at Ojota. 

I have always been fascinated by the creative irony of being welcome to Lagos by a well-manicured hedge that reads 'Welcome to Lagos, Centre of Excellence' directly opposite the biggest dump I have ever seen. The smell from this 100-acre dump is the ever reigning presence in Ojota, Tollgate, Motorways, Ketu, Magodo, and Ikosi areas of Lagos - probably well over 10,000 hectares of heavily populated residential and commercial area.  In a normal society, such a massive dump would not be sited so close to where people live. Certainly no development would have been allowed within miles of it. 

The following day, I came home without a thought to the smoke of the previous evening. I was soon jolted out of my complacency. This time around, the day was still bright so I could see the thick smoke writhing majestically over the sky and engulfing about a mile of the Lagos-Ibadan Expressway close to the dump. I realised this was no one-off from an individual burning their waste in Ketu but a serious environmental disaster snaking its way from Olusosun dump and consuming everything in its path. Within minutes of arriving at home, my next door neighbour on the right, a very fantastic man, rang to discuss the smoke. He told me of the baby in the next house to him that cried all night because of the discomfort of the smoke.

Exhausted as I was, I knew I could not stomach another night of this exposure to danger and serious discomfort. I packed a suitcase and drove to my sister's house in Victoria Island. I was lucky I had somewhere to go. But my nagging thought was about the baby, several other babies and children, older people who, unlike me, did not have the luxury of a sister on the other side of Lagos.

I didn't come back home for two days. When I did, the air was still foul but not as rampaging. This was probably due to favourable wind movement. But there was another problem. My neighbour on the left had decided to knock down his house. This was being done manually with nothing to hold back the dust. The smoke from the dump, and the dust from the house next door became a lethal cocktail that hung over the area for the next few days. I had had enough. 

The smoke has now continued for seven days non-stop. The greatest surprise was that there was no mention of this on TV, and in the print media. It hasn't made national news either. Although, thousands of people are being exposed to serious health risks, no attempt has been made to address the matter. It was time for me to shift base altogether. I am now over five hours into my flight to London. It's truly a classic case of good riddance to 'bad rubbish'. But what about the babies, the children, old people and everyone else who do not have the privileges I have. These are my thoughts as I conclude. PostcardfromLagos

Picture credits:

1. mistykeasler.com

2. imgur.com

Misogny, Domestic Violence and Nigerian Men

Two reasons account for this article. The first was the brouhaha generated when the Sunday Telegraph chose to headline the appointment in 2014 of Rona Fairhead to lead the BBC this way - “Mother of Three poised to lead the BBC”. Commentators argued that the Sunday Telegraph failed to take into consideration the fact that she was a former CEO of the Financial Times with profits of £55 million a year, that she holds a double first in Law from Cambridge, and MBA from Harvard. She had also worked at ICI, Bain Consulting, Morgan Stanley and serves as a non-executive director in large corporations such as HSBC, The Economist Group and PepsiCo. It is difficult to determine whether the Sunday Telegraph was trying to be disingenuous with its headline; I suppose this was probably their way of celebrating the first woman appointed to lead the BBC. However, what is not in doubt is that the headline would have been different had a man been selected to head the BBC.

The second event that propelled me to write was the release of the video that showed Ray Rice, the Baltimore Ravens player hit his then fiancée, now wife, Janay with a ferocious punch that made her pass out inside a hotel lift. What was more galling about the video was his indifference to the almost lifeless body of the woman he professed to love.

These two incidents got me thinking, not about American Ray Rice’s behaviour or a British newspaper’s subtle chauvinistic headline, but about the very serious level of misogyny and domestic abuse in Nigeria. I have no doubt that this is not uncommon to other countries, but in many of them, the law protects women. Almost in every culture and sub-culture in Nigeria however, there is a subtext that encourages putting women in their place. There appears to be a vicious and routine habit of de-personalising women and stamping on their rights. This subjugation of women has been successfully perpetuated partly because, from childhood, we let boys know they are more important than girls. Girls on the other hand are made to believe their worth is measured in their ability to cook and take care of their husband and children. For example, in some parts of Nigeria women still do not have inheritance rights to their father or husband’s assets. Incredibly, in some tribes, a wife is made to drink from the bath-water collected from washing her dead husband’s body. Worse still, family members often chase a wife out of her marital homes soon after a husband’s death.

Knowingly or unknowingly, we consistently send out the message that women are primarily objects, first for men's gratification, and secondly their possession. Because of this tragic narrative, our society is rife with wife battery, domestic assault, child marriage, extreme control and rape. Talking about rape, if a woman should visit a man, it is generally accepted that he is within his rights to force her to bed. Many people would not consider this as rape. What was she doing in his house if she did not want it? The twisted logic is that a woman that visits a man must be morally bankrupt. In that case she deserves whatever happens to her, never mind the horror and emotional damage of being raped. In Nigeria, rape happens everywhere. Male students rape female students in our universities and schools, male domestic staff rape female domestic staff. Because of our sheer indifference, neither of these two is ever taken seriously. This creates the mind-set that women are for the taking. The victims also usually do not know what to do or where to report.

As you can see, the scales are heavily weighed against women in Nigeria. We treat the unmarried ones as if they are diseased. We define the married ones as someone’s wife, not usually by their name or personal achievement. This is an institutionalised phenomenon that is often done impulsively, even by women. Among the illiterate male, women fare even worse. A friend’s driver derogatorily referred to women as ‘people who pee from behind.’ Apparently this, in his view, makes women sub-human and certainly inferior to men. I was stunned, and forced to admit we have a big problem.

Many of our men take decisions without consulting their wives, because unlike siblings, a wife is not fully considered as family. These men love the respect from their wives, but could never countenance their wife calling them by their first name. For many men, the exchange of animism or idol worshipping for Christianity is acceptable, the exchange of patriarchy for equality is however beyond the pale. They just cannot stomach it. Incredibly, many of these men are leaders in their churches and mosques. How a person derives fulfilment from the misery of a fellow human being is beyond me, none the least a woman he marries.

In my opinion, five things stand out in the systematic way women are subjugated in Nigeria:

• ·       Ownership - Women are psychologically abused by their husbands and are often kept in the dark about assets and properties. Their views are also totally disregarded because wives are themselves regarded as part of their husband’s chattels.
• ·       Violence - Nollywood films routinely show women being beaten by their husbands – a tacit admission, and one may add, approval that beating a wife is not out of place. Some men are quick to say ‘I have never laid my hands on my wife’ as if they should be awarded the Nobel Prize for being different from the norm.
• ·       Control - Women who are lucky to escape physical abuse suffer from aggressive control by their husbands. This includes what they can wear or not wear, whether they should take up a job or not, the type of business they are permitted to do, who they talk to and friends they could keep etc. Some children suffer too in the process of their dad trying to ‘teach’ their mum who is boss.
• ·       Sexual Exploitation – Many of our anecdotes, stories, proverbs, sayings and actions promote and encourage the objectification of a woman’s body, and the chronicle that they are to be sexually exploited.
• ·       Workload - Many men hide under the covering of culture, and sometimes religion to overwhelm their wives with excessive work, not minding if they are  able to cope. almost as if they are slaves

Other behaviour that we instinctively adopt without realising to be misogynistic include:

• We instinctively call a woman 'asewo' (prostitute)
• We instinctively do not trust women with driving, leadership, emotional intelligence, and we are unable to see that this is linked to our treatment of women.
• We instinctively suspect women when their husbands die.
• We instinctively demand that a wife appease her husband even when it is clear she had been wronged and her husband is blatantly being nasty. The belief is after all, men would always be men.
• We instinctively blame a woman for the misdemeanours of a wayward child.
• We instinctively task mothers with the educational progress of their children.

In our society, the subjugation of women is worse than racism. It is ever present, it is rampant and as stated above, condoned by religion, tradition, culture, and very sadly, even by some women. For example, in certain parts of Nigeria, it is culturally acceptable to ‘give’ young girls, like mere presents, as wives to men that are much older; men they neither knew nor love. It has also become an existing part of our culture, partly as a result of our inefficient economic system, that a huge number of our young girls have become sexual preys to ‘moneyed’ men, old enough to be their grandfather. Our political leaders have buried their heads in the sand and feign ignorance of this injustice, forgetting as the Yorubas would say that the person who helps a thief to bring a keg of palm oil from the rooftop is an accomplice in thievery.

We are all aware of the former governor turned senator who brazenly married a 13 year old in flagrant disregard to the law of our land. Even our highly educated and ‘polished’ Senate President, Bukola Saraki doesn't’ see anything wrong with this. We know of southern obas and northern emirs in their seventies and fifties who accept teenage girls as gifts into their ever expanding harem. We turn a blind eye too. On the rare occasions when these are reported, Lamido Sanusi comes up with a sobbing and pathetic pontifical riposte of co-operation between kingdoms, as if the 18 year-old girl he married at 54 really has a say in her marriage. It is clear from the ‘respected’ emir’s statement that the young lady is a mere trading item in the rapprochement between two ancient dynasties.

Regrettably, some of the greatest proponents of misogyny and abusers of women are religious leaders. We hear pastors who preach the subjugation of women and the need for them to know their place in society. The undertone of this assertion is highly disturbing. If it's ever possible to check the mindset of some of the most respected and outwardly gentlemanly Nigerian, one may find he probably harbours the belief that women should be put in their place.

Even agencies of government and some of our laws and regulations are complicit. Until recently, a woman has to seek her husband’s permission before she can obtain a passport in her name. She also has to go all the way to Abuja to obtain a new passport in her married name irrespective of where she lives in Nigeria. We kept quiet about this too.

Given the status quo above, many of our men find it very difficult to respect any woman irrespective of her position in society; after all, a guy once opined about a woman  'is it not a man that mounts her?' I have no doubt that we need to start lancing this festering boil of dehumanising women.

It is highly concerning that we fail to see that the violence and abuse perpetrated against women in our country has roots in religious and cultural bigotry. I am personally concerned by the increasing ruthlessness, wickedness and anger directed by our young men against women. Only four years ago a husband brutally murdered his young banker wife in Lagos. This received widespread media attention because it happened in Lagos. The reality is that there are probably several cases all over Nigeria, aided and supported by a society that sends the message, clearly and repeatedly, that women are sexual objects for men’s gratification and possession.

It isn't that Nigerian men are necessarily worse than others, what is shameful is our inability to acknowledge what happens in our midst, our shamelessness about it and the fact that we are not doing anything to redress it. This sin of indifference is almost as bad as the evil itself.

Given the pervasiveness of this evil, the rights of women in our society must certainly become the civil rights issue of our time and I believe, we men must be in the vanguard of championing this cause. We must begin to speak up for our daughters, sisters and mothers. The injustices they suffer should incense us all and at the same time energise us to want to do something about it. We must preach it from our pulpits, teach it at home, enshrine and enforce it with our laws. We can no longer pay lip service to this anymore. Our obas, emirs, and igwes must teach their people. No doubt, some men have a vicious and maniacal hatred of women and may not want to change easily. Our lawmakers must ensure that our laws are employed to protect women from the hands of such people. 

The following are a few steps that can help us on the way to fight for our women:

• The defence and rights of women should be enshrined in law. This will cover harassment, rape, female inheritance, education, inheritance for wives, child marriage etc.
• We should set up a fully equipped enforcement agency present in all the states and local governments with the powers to prosecute offenders.
• We must prosecute all forms of domestic violence
• Given that many of our men do not see rape as a 'big deal', we must urgently develop a process of education on rape and its consequences.  This process should also cover what rape victims should do and where they can get help and support.
• All schools, universities, companies, religious, corporate and social organisations, churches, mosques must be made to develop policies on sexual harassment, rape and gender discrimination. This should cover how they wish to educate their members, and what they would do in the event of any contravention. A quarterly report on any incident should also form part of the submission to their respective boards of management.
• We must include respect for women rights in our school curriculum to ensure that we develop a new generation not tainted by the past.
• We must develop laws that punish revenge porn and its publication.
• We must ensure all Nigeria girls go to school and have quality education at least up to secondary school level.
• We must set up a domestic abuse register for people who have been convicted of the crime. Women would be able to find out if their boyfriend or husband-to-be has a history of domestic abuse.
• We must develop a system of educating society through our homes, school curriculum, and religious bodies about women rights. 
• We must stop forthwith the very discriminatory practice by the Nigerian Immigration Service that forces women to have to go to Abuja to change their passport to their married name.
• We must definitely stop using religion, tradition and culture to mask our bigotry.

Women rights must become the civil rights issue of our time. Although many will raise eyebrows, however the defence of women should not be seen as a destruction of men. It is not a zero sum game.

Finally, I would like to borrow the words of Jesus encouraging us to ‘do unto others as you want them to do to you’. Let us therefore treat our women with the same dignity and compassion with which we want to be treated. We must do right by ourselves and for the sake of our daughters and sisters by turning away from the hatred and subjugation of women. Whatever your justification, it is evil and it must be stopped. It is time to stand up for our women and their human rights. 

I enjoin you all to start from your respective homes. PostcardfromLagos.com

Photocredit

Picture 1 of Susan Peters courtesy of Nigeriamovienetwork.com 

Picture 2 courtesy of Romancemeetslife.com