Spoling the American name...

Ok, maybe not just the American name but the Western name in general.

I was out at a Salsa joint with a few friends the other day, and we came across this babe who was dancing in a baby doll dress that did the Marilyn Monroe each time she twirled. Underneath, she wasn't wearing anything but black draws...

Someone passed a comment about it, and another person responded: "free her jo, it's because of where she's coming from. She's lived in the U.S. for a while." I did the double-blink like w.t.f? I don't know anything about the underwear dancer, but I've heard her speak before and her Nigerian accent is more serious than mine (and we all know that mine is rather serious too). Plus, I know people who have definitely lived in America longer than she has, and they don't go around showing their underwear.

Yes, we know that the American environment is more liberal, but don't go blaming your nudist tendencies on where you're coming from! That's just ludicrous. Why do we have to blame the Western world for all immorality? A wise man has said: 'we all have our demons; how well do you hide yours?' The truth is that every person has the tendency to be evil/immoral/lawless/etc. It all depends on how well you 'curb your enthusiasm'. I guess I should also say that's it's true that the free societies of the Western World allow you to express your tendencies without being judged.

Draws are a product of the West, I believe, and even they call them underwear. People need to learn to call a spade, "spade", and take responsibilities for the decisions they make. When she stepped out of her house that day, she knew she was going to dance, and she knew that Salsa would involve twirling and twirling would involve rising of babydoll dress; yet she gave herself a wink in the mirror and stepped out. Not because Obama told her to go out without leggings, but because she felt like it. There are days I've had peek-a-boo bra incidents; I can assure you that it's not because I lived in America, but because I didn't feel like wearing another layer of clothing, i.e. camisole, because of the heat.

I'm sure that some Americans will be offended by that 'because she lived in America' statement.

Just my 2 Kobo.

Good morning.

Before & After

I would like to apologize on behalf of all of us who run this blog. I'm not sure what our excuses are, but really, we've been away for too long, and that's not acceptable. We're supposed to be giving you blow by blow accounts of our experiences at home, but with all the time spent in traffic, at work meetings, going through NYSC bruhaha, and on the highly coveted sleep, we open our eyes, and Bam! it's February, 2010.

I have good news though, Drops of Glamour and I are about to complete our NYSC programs (on February 11th); give Jesus a wiper(a wave)! This completion is the koko of my little schpill today.

NYSC is a good program in the sense that for about a year, you have a steady job and steady income, and, you know, a sense of being 'useful'. You can hang up your job hunting suit, and if you're lucky you won't need it anymore.

Now, the problem is the 'if you're lucky' clause in that last statement. I started my NYSC program in March last year. There are people who finished up at about that time and are still job hunting. I'm not even sure what can be done differently, given the conditions of the job market right now. However though, what's the point of going through the gruelling NYSC camp experience, enduring one year of dealing with those shady peeps at the LGA, and then ending up right where you started (knocking on office doors and hoping someone finds you attractive enough for a job?) What's the point if the 'after' is not so much better than the 'before'?

It's even worse for some people because when they were green out of college, with no experience, etc, the rejection letters they received were justifiable. After a year of experience, and mingling with the real world some, what acceptable excuse is there? You could say it's like what to expect after an internship; still I argue that with NYSC on one's belt, you've supposedly given yourself the qualification that 'opens doors for you'.

I'm not expecting every company to retain the Youth Corpers who serve with them; (some of them already tell you from the beginning that you shouldn't expect them to automatically keep you after the Service Year).

What do we do about all of these highly qualified people? I mean, NYSC is 'such a big deal'! One of my friends got fired last year because of some discrepancies during his service year, about 8 years ago! What more do you need after B.Sc., M.Sc. MBA and NYSC?

I Asked For It...

I know I wrote a woe-is-me introduction and gave you the impression that moving back home was the best thing I'd done in a gazzillion years. Well, umm... I'm going to tell you a secret. Don't tell anyone; promise?

Bring your ear very close to the screen: "I miss being a couch potato."

You know the problem, it's this whole 9 - 5 bruhaha. (Or as it is in my case, 8:35 till anytime between 5:30 and 7pm). Lemme lay it down like it is.

Couch Potato-ism:

1. All I was doing was job hunting. I could afford to miss my alarm, on the days when I set it.
2. True that I was broke, but every bonafide couchpopato knows that you must have someone you can be mooching off of (you should be someone's parasite). I had one of those, and God bless her heart. I miss her so much. She worked and made money for both of us. I got used to not paying for anything, that my wallet got missing in my room, a few times.
3. I had too much time on my hands. I could afford to braid my friend's hair and do some mall hopping in the same day. And maybe crown it with dinner with my sugar-mama (babe who was spending money on me in '2').
4. I could spend time talking to my friends, on the phone, in person, or on messenger. We would just sit in the grass with sunglasses, sipping on smoothies, at 2.45pm. They were prolly between classes or taking a late lunch break, while I was just, you know, being...
5. I spent a lot of time in the kitchen. I love to cook, bake and experiment in general. So, there was always time to make another cake, and cook for my friend's boyfriend's sister's best friend's 'Girls Night In'.
6. I had time for things I really enjoyed - singing in the choir, bowling, baby-sitting, handcraft, wakadugbe (walking around, visiting people), writing, TV, and those other things that I don't have to feel bad about doing, even without a reward.
7. Even other people allowed me to be irresponsible. They knew I wasn't working, so I wasn't expected to give them gifts on their birthdays, or contribute to pot lucks, or pay for myself at a restaurant, or pay my own phone bill. (I love my friends!)

J-O-Bism:

1. What a catastrophe to miss the alarm.
2. I have my own personal parasites now. They are called younger siblings.
3. It took me three days to braid my hair myself, and I even had a weekend o. I haven't bought even a pair of slippers (as in 'Dunlop' salubata) since I moved back.
4. I'm always invisible on Yahoo messenger, always 'Busy' on Google chat and I don't remember my MSN password. The last time I had a smoothie was in March. I used to scold people for ignoring calls, I am now a PRO.
5. This is how my kitchen trips work: In the morning, I pop in to pick breakfast, when that's available; I always make myself a cup of tea. In the evening, I pop in to 'place an order' for dinner. Once in a light green moon, I'll bake, or make pancakes, or something I have a very bad craving for - like Spaghetti Bolognaise. (There should be a light green moon tonight...)
6. My 'trips' are seriously dulled by the fact that the 'older ones' think that they always need to know where I'm going. I mean, my G'Mama pratically followed me to a house party last night! (I'll whine about that later).
7. Irresponsible fire! I have to make a budget, and stick to it! It's exhausting.

I mean, I won't exactly say 'bring back the days of joblessness' but like do we have to work every week day?

...Cos I'm A Naija Boi!

Ha! And now I finally BLOG! This is a first, so I’m gonna try to do it differently. Lemme know what y’all think. You might understand why I get a tad too analytical occasionally and always give disclaimers even when speaking :D. Here goes…


Prelude

My father and I have developed a rather interesting relationship. For each major step in my life, he always provides advice and balanced, yet convincing, arguments. Decisions on specifics are generally left to me. Each decision I take however needs to be backed with solid reasons based on HARD facts to carry him along. Umm…yea, he’s a lawyer.

As some of you know,“¯I’m a 9ja boy!¯” to the bone <Big ups Eldee>. So it’s always been my intention to return home. “When” was always the issue. Just before graduation in December 2006, I had interviewed with a few companies who were offering all sorts of wonderful packages, but my then-efiko heart was yearning for graduate school. So I shunned them. I mean, my soon-to-be alma mater was offering me free graduate education with research assistant position and I’d been accepted into one of the best graduate engineering schools (hereafter, µBGES) around. What more could a pre-op efiko ask for?

Small problem: µBGES doesn’t start till the fall semester. But alma mater begins right away.

·Act 1, Scene 1 – The Decision

Light bulb! I get an ingenious idea.

Me, thinking: “Why don’t I attend alma mater now and then go start at µBGES in the fall? Costs me nothing to attend alma mater, no?”

ÉI discuss with dad. Dad thinks it’s a decent idea. Note: “decent idea” generally means “I’ll get back to you on that one.”

After three weeks of vacation in New York (# 5 on my Miss List), yours truly begins engineering graduate school at alma mater.

ÉDad calls.

Dad: “My guy, how far na? What about coming to Nigeria for the next six months until it’s time to go to µBGES? I don ‘rrange one joint like that plus like some 3 babes join for you.”

Me: “Ah pops, I don’t really understand Nigerian girls y’know.”

Dad: Small tin. You know say you be Yankee boi na. E go easy. Nuttin do you.

********** CUT! **********

Sorry guys, that’s not really part of the script. Getting carried away here; uh…let’s do this again.


*

*

********** ¸ ACTION! · **********

After three weeks of vacation in New York (# 5 on my Miss List), yours truly begins engineering graduate school at alma mater.

É Dad calls.

Dad: “Hey son, how about coming to Nigeria for the next six or seven months until it’s time to go to µBGES?”

Me: “Okay…that’s new…but what will I be doing there?”

Dad: “Well, I’ve arranged something for you. They should be calling you soon.”

Me: “Umm…I have other ideas. Lemme go think on it and I’ll get back to you.”

Honestly, I don’t want anything more! But I need to prove to him that it is the best option, all factors considered.

I carry out a comprehensive cost/risk analysis of all my options in preparation for my discourse with dad. Indulge me.

Cost vs Risk
1. Accept a job and work Low cost Low risk
2. Stay at alma mater Moderate cost Low risk
3. Return home High cost High risk


*Cost: Cost of travel, settling, fees, bills, etc
Risk: visa/immigration status (always a bitch eh?)


Me: “Look dad, I’ve done all my analyses and clearly, coming to Nigeria is the worst idea based on facts.”

Dad: “True, but I want you to come back and have a look-see. Check out the system. I’ve organized an internship for you at a multi-national where you’ll have firsthand view of the Nigerian business environment. See if it’s something you’d be interested in.”

Me, thinking: “God, after just 1 week of school, the mere fact that I had to sit through another class with even worse efikos (some undergraduate sef) immediately after graduation cantankerously and effectively nullified any elation I had experienced when I collected my B.Sc pali.”

No friends. Everyone has graduated and left respectably.

Apartment-search wahala.

No money for pocket. (As we all know, 9ja parents don’t send money once they hear you’re working. Doesn’t matter whether na $5.15 per hour at 10 hours a week you dey do.)


Me, thinking: “Omo mehn, I’m out! Back to the comfort of round-the-clock food service, driver, little or no expense, major cash inflow from the ‘rents, and just generally flossing. Nice!”

But wait.
Brothers and sisters, did I mention that my father is a lawyer? You HAVE to come correct. Verify and counter-verify contractual agreements before entering them cos mehn… you can be screwed over for your own carelessness.

I made sure I listed like 10,000 concerns, all of which he assuaged. Then:

Me: “OK, so this means you will bear the full cost of my flight, stay and return?”
Dad: “Yes.”
Me: “…and give me a whip to get around?”
Dad: “Yes.”
Me: “…and get me a job?”
Dad: “Yes.”
Me: “…and support me if the money I earn doesn’t cover all?”
Dad: “Uh…yes.”
Me: “…and pay off my credit card debt?”
Dad: “Uh…yea, that’s taking it too far. Na you carry gbese…pay it off yourself!”
Me: “Haha! OK! I’m in!”

a Call the special friend who doesn’t think too highly of the decision.
a Tell a few other buddies.
a Send off parties.
a Move two-thirds of my stuff to the H.
a Pack the remaining one-third in 2 suitcases.
a Kill off phone, water, electricity, etc.

The special friend drives me to DFW for the final goodbyes.

Me: “Hey, you know what? I’ll call you everyday. Plus I’ll be online all the time so we can chat. It’s like an extended vacation! I’ll be back on Aug 6! See my return ticket now.”


…little did I know!