Vernacular

My parents always comment that one of the mistakes that they made while raising my siblings and I is that they didn't make Yoruba our first language. (They're trying to repair that now, because we read the Yoruba Bible and Daily Guide every morning at devotion. I must say that it's working).

When I was younger though, so many kids thought it was razz to speak in your mother tongue. Everyone wanted a British accent; and the 'wrist dangle' to go with it.

Fast forward to March 2009 when I was at NYSC camp, everyone spoke Yoruba! (We were at camp in Oyo State). I remember getting into an argument with one naughty girl who want to bump my water pail from the line, and I gave her a piece of my mind - in clean unadultrated Yoruba! I was so proud of myself.

It's very interesting that understanding, and speaking, the native language of wherever you're at is rather necessary for progress. I remember a friend of mine telling me that he wasn't able to rub minds with the important powers, and climb up the ladder, at his pretigious job in Abuja because he didn't speak Hausa very well. I thought he was being delusional till I started noticing it for myself. Some traders at the market in Festac won't be nice to you if you don't speak Igbo. The money changers at Federal Palace Hotel respond to their Hausa speaking customers better. The taxi driver who took me to Festac one day, dropped the attitude and started smiling at me when he heard me speak Yoruba on the phone. (I might have paid N300.00 less if I'd negotiated the price in Yoruba).

I have also heard that when you put your (real) foreign, or an I-have-hot-yam-in-my-mouth, accent foot forward, it's very likely that people turn their noses up at your because they believe you're being pretentious and rubbing your traveller self (or foreign movie watcher self, depending on where you gained your funny accent from), in their faces.

I can't say that it is fair that people are responded to based on how they sound. I just think it' interesting that as much as we want to sound like the foreigners, it's how well we know our own local languages that counts. I have a friend whose accent is British, laced with American, and they're both genuine. (Lol). He raps Yoruba sharply too. It's real sexy.

Color Me Crazy

Hi there! I would be remiss if I did not explain my extended absence from the blog. You see, I’ve been incarcerated. Not for killing someone (though this was closer to being a reality than I’m really comfortable with), but for another grave error in judgment. Apparently, deciding that I would be an auditor in Lagos was essentially me signing up for a sweet helping of indentured servitude. Sixteen hours a day. Every day (yep, even on my CD days). For five weeks. Locked up in a hotel with a tiny little prison cell window. WOE IS ME!!!

Anyhow, I’m free now (FREE AT LAST!) so back to regularly scheduled programming.
There’s many strange things I’ve observed since I’ve been back. Little oddities and peculiarities that I’m not certain existed before I left (or perhaps I was too deeply ensconced in my little cocoon to have noticed). I shall share them with you now and invite you to continue the list with your observations.

Men holding hands: I just…I don’t even know what to say about this one. I’m talking grown-butt men holding hands and swinging them as they walk down the street to lunch. I’m talking big, burly dudes, macho African males types with fingers intertwined skipping merrily down the lane. My favorite part of this phenomenon is seeing the uninitiated, newly-returned-from-the-West male unwittingly dragged into this mess, all the while trying unsuccessfully to mask his vaguely homophobic horror.

Men with long fingernails: It’s never all the fingers either -- just one long, gnarled, dirty, gross, vomit-inducing fingernail. Last week, when I was finally fed up of seeing this affront to all human sensibilities, I called a co-worker aside and asked him why. He responded that he just hadn’t happened upon a nail cutter lately. I asked him if he had a girlfriend. He said no. I then asked him to consider whether keeping that one long fingernail was worth the sacrifice.

“How was the night?”: But what’s happened to a simple “Good morning, how are you?” It seems that at some point, everyone got together and decided that instead of just hoping I have a good day, they instead would rather inquire into my nocturnal activities. The very next time I am asked this, I am going to respond with a simple, “My night was mostly disappointing actually. My lover performed rather unsatisfactorily and has left me feeling rather bereft. Thank you so much for asking!” You know, just to see what happens.

“Phaffing” and “Knacking teeth”: So from what I’ve gathered, ‘phaffing” just means messing about and doing absolutamente nada, especially at a time when you should absolutely be doing something else. “Knacking teeth” seems to refer to talking for the sake of it, without anyone paying particular attention to the drivel falling out of your face-hole. I can’t go off for too long on these two because I’ve actually become quite partial to both of them. So I shall stop knocking teeth on this point and move right along.

Car Horns: Someone once told me that you can drive in Lagos without brakes, without a clutch, hell, without an accelerator, but if your car horn isn’t working, it’s best to go and park that crapbox because you WILL get dead. Drivers in Lagos believe that rearview mirrors are purely decorative, merely there for okada drivers to break off at will. As such, you can expect at least 42 cars to unceremoniously swerve into your lane on any given road and God help you if you haven’t got a functioning horn to alert them to your presence. They will not hesitate to yell out of their window, “Madam, you no sabi horn?? Abi you want make I jam your car?” Remarkable.

THE HEAT: I’m sorry – say what you will about global warming – it was NOT this hot in this city when I left. I walked from the stupid local government to the car today and I am now rubbing aloe vera and tea leaves on the nastiest sunburn I’ve sustained since orientation camp. WHAT GIVES? Al Gore was right, people!!! We’re all going to die on a melting ice-cap!!!!

There’s loads more bizarre idiosyncrasies but I shall stop here before I start to question the sanity of my people (might be a little late for that). On balance though, in a country with a list of flaws long as the Chrysler building is tall, it helps to have a few quirks that keep you giggling crazily to yourself throughout the day (not that I really needed an excuse to do that in the first place).

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?

The Nigerian Market

I should be talking about something serious, like the 'Nigerian' guy who tried to bomb a plane in the US on Christmas day. Honestly, I have my doubts about his true identity, because we all know, Nigerians love life too much to consider things like suicide. Haven't you heard about the Nigerian who wanted to kill himself? He hung himself from the waist, because "that neck own too dey pain person". I mean, I'm just saying... Anyways, I'm in too good a mood to write out what needs to be said about Nigeria today. It'd be too depressing. That said, RIP Mariam Babaginda.

Anyways. my topic today has different topics:

1. The Nigerian mobile market: I mean like the market in traffic. Honestly, they've taken street trading to a whole new level. My Dad was on his way to Ife, in Osun State one day, and he forgot his glasses at home. He bought a new pair somewhere on the highway. I mean I understand Gala, Fanyogo, Bananas and even windshield wipers, but Glasses, really?! On a serious note though, I read recently that the government is trying to get these traders off the streets, for safety reasons. My question for the government is, 'What are these people supposed to do with themselves now?' A good number of them are degree-holders who were not able to find regular jobs. Thankfully, they made better choices than those who took to armed robbery. I'm cracking my brain for ideas to help these people if they really are swept off the streets. Please lemme know if some genius plan occurs to you.
2. This thing about change: I think I talked about this on my other blog sometime ago. At this point, if I put together all the change that I was told to 'come back and collect' I can buy this pretty good Range Rover that I spotted a few hours ago. I think it sounds like the guy will gba my oju with this deal, (see me talking like I'm going to buy it tomorrow). I really want a car though, and what's wrong with being hopeful? What was I talking about before sef? Yes, change. So, as I was saying... I don't get it. How can you run a business and not have change? Oh and then, the really bold one would now encourage to 'buy something' with the change. Something? I look like a vending machine abi, so I have too much money and I can overlook 'mis-spending' N850.00 because you can't find me money? Mschew!
3. 'Buy from me or else': My cousin and I are driving home from work and this guy selling phone credit begins knocking on my window hard enough to crack it just a little bit. He's so sure that the reason I've not called him, is not the obvious one of my not needing any, but simply because I'm ignoring him. He expects that as soon as I look up and see him, I'd suddenly realize that the N1500 I just put on my phone will miraculously expire in the 15 minutes it'd take me to get home. Oh also, one of my pet peeves is being touched by people I don't know. Handshakes are 'alright', but like don't hold my arm or waist or anything like that. So, you can only imagine my reaction when someone selling men's shirts at the market grabs me by the arm and pulls me towards his store...

Lemme just stop.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New 2010 to you all!

Talk to you in the new year!

Tips for Looking Extremely Busy At Work While Accomplishing Absolutely Nothing

Arrive early: This may seem counter-intuitive, but when the rest of your team gets in to work, they assume you’ve already been working for hours and got the majority of your work done in the wee hours, and were not in fact, catching up on your favorite blogs and posting witticisms to Twitter

Spreadsheets: Despite what you heard, they are your friend. Find the busiest, craziest looking spreadsheet you can (download one off the internet if you must) and have it open on your computer at all times. When someone walks by, furrow your eyebrows, sigh deeply, and type in a new formula

Circulate: Always have a stack of papers, files and folders handy, sitting in a scattered mess on your desk. Every hour or so, gather up these files and rush about the hallways. Stop by a few people’s desks and stop to chat for a few minutes (more like forty-five) about how difficult your day has been. In the hours you’ve been wasting since you got to work, you should have come up with a pretty good story about a bitchy client, a troublesome vendor or cantankerous manager to tell to all who will listen.

Lunch: Always be the first to go to lunch. This may seem counter-intuitive as well, but if you are the first one out (let’s say you leave at 1pm) and everyone else leaves later (say at 1:30), you get back before them (say at 2:15) and they have no idea you did not take a fifteen-minute lunch and get right back to your arduous spreadsheet instead of, say, going to get your nails done. Every so often, grab a coffee (or in Naij, a meatpie) for those seated around you. This will engender goodwill and is more likely to get you support should the poop ever hit the fan.

Coffee Breaks: Take many of them. Wander over to the breakroom, sighing heavily, pouring yourself a cuppa joe with great deliberation. When someone walks by, make a comment like “I don’t know how anyone handles this level of work without copious amounts of coffee. If I could have it somehow deposited intravenously into my bloodstream so I could never leave my desk, I would so sign up for that!” The advantage of this is that this person (and anyone else close by) knows just how dedicated you are, plus it may also lead to another elaborate time-wasting conversation about the intricacies of Intravenous Caffeine Injections (ICIs).

If you have a flexible office with no assigned seating, change your seat often. This way, if anyone has the ludicrous idea of assigning you any work, they have no idea where to find you.

If you’re in a client-service field, take your laptop with you to the bathroom. It may sound gross, but when your laptop is not on your desk but the rest of your things are, your colleagues assume you’re in an important meeting with the client, not updating your Twitter page in a bathroom stall, or ordering a hit in Mafia Wars. Make sure no one sees you entering or exiting or they’ll just think you’re a weirdo, and you want to blend in as seamlessly as possible.

Open up a blank Word document and begin work on your next blog post describing for your readers how you’ve spent your last few weeks at work (see above)

Keep your resume updated.

A Very Under-developed Community Development Program

This intro is for people who are not familiar with the NYSC program.

In addition to the primary assignment that each Corper is given (mentioned by SongSmith in the previous post), depending on where that job is, you'd have a Local Government Development Area where you'd meet once a week, with other Corp Members, for Community Developement. There are different groups - Charity, Enviroment/Beautification/Sanitation, Dance and Drama, etc. As a part of each group, you're supposed to develop projects, in line with the concentration of your group, that would help develop your Local Government area.

* * *

Now, except playing errand girl and making trips to the bank for a CD coordinator counts as some sort of community development, I believe that this entire thing has been a waste of the last 30, or so, Wednesdays of my life.

Yesterday (Wednesday), we actually did something 'useful' - we walked around the LGA and picked up trash and stuff; generally cleaned the environment. (And then I did a quick bank-run).

Don't get excited though, 'doing something' is just one very small bit of the hoopla. You have to get your CD cards signed too! They have these yellow and green cards that you have to present for the coordinator's signature every week, as proof of attendance. You would think they were the ones that signed N 1, 000.00 notes.
"Who said all of you should come upstairs? See how this place is hot and smelly. Oya, down! Everybody!"
Then she'll shout through the window from the second floor (third floor American nomenclature, lol. It took me almost 6 months to get it right when I just got home) - "Five people should come at a time to sign their cards".
If she sees five and a half people - "You people don't want to leave this place today. Everybody downstairs!"
How this helps community development is something I'm still trying to wrap my head around.

All of us who hoped the NYSC program would give us an opportunity to work for a better Nigeria would just have to make sure we survive this year of torture first, and then find other ways to develop our comminuties, and country as a whole. I can't decisively say that the NYSC program should be scrapped, because I think that it can serve a very good purpose. It just has to be totally restructured.

Oh, and then, everybody likes to get 'settled'; as in "You, Corper, when you're leaving you'll settle me o. All the work I did for you - signing your card, doing your clearance. In fact, your debt is serious, you're my daughter's namesake".

See me foolishly thinking she was just doing her job...