The day after Abacha died

Those days prior to the death of Gen. Sani Abacha were dark days in Nigeria.

I like many other teenagers back then knew the days were dark but were hardly affected.

Whatever I knew about those days was droplet of conversations I picked from my mother, family, neighbors and on the streets.

The troubles of the nation were of little or no concerns for the head of teenage me.

I remember the moment his death was announced, the jubilation in the streets, and the excited conversation between neighbors.

Mum was in town that week and back in the days she worked in Iseyin, Oyo State.

When she told me not to go to school as she was not sure of the reactions of the military to the news, I raised an eye but still obliged her.

She saved me from one hell of torture.

For those who went to school that day, till date I still wonder what manner of devil possessed them.

The school’s administrative office had announced that the Commander in Chief of the Armed forces and Head of State had passed the night before.

Why he bothered with the announcement of news we had all danced about in our various homes, I wonder.

While he made the announcement, the students laughed.

The ex ruler of the nation even though was known as the devil’s incarnate himself had just died.

The students stood right in front of a uniformed man and laughed when he announced that his boss had passed.

What an insult!

An insult to the AO, an insult to the military and most definitely an insult to the school which also happens to be a military school.

For this act of disrespect, the students must suffer.

And suffer they did.

Let’s just say that day a lot of them still remember and would never forget.

Because how do you forget being made to kneel down on stones under the scorching sun.

Crawling with the kneels right to your classrooms.

Or the numbness of the hands from the strokes of canes received.

♥ Lara

Review: Waiting for an Angel-Helon Habila

Helon Habiba’s first novel published in 2002 which I would call a narrative of interlinked short stories is a powerful and intense book focused primarily Lomba, a journalist and frustrated novelist, who collide with the brutal military government of his nation.

It was a terrible time to be alive, especially if you were young, talented and ambitious- and patriotic, wrote the author in the afterword of the book. The atmosphere is grim and depressing and the mood was that of chaos and despair as Nigeria at that time was a land of repression and instability. The military reign of terror had run the country aground; the nation had become one where dreams would only be dreams; half of the world had slammed the country with all sorts of sanctions; citizens were left with the option of either fleeing the country to avoid prison/death or support the government of the day.

The narrative of the book does not follow a chronological path but begins from the end where Lomba is already in prison with the circumstances surrounding his detention becoming apparent towards the end of the book. In the opening chapter, Lomba is introduced to us as a political prisoner jailed for two years without trial who begins to share his experience in the middle of his second year in prison the moment he got access to pencil and paper. The author jumps back and forth in time in subsequent chapters to the life Lomba lived before his detention. We are introduced to ordinary citizens of Lagos including Lomba himself, who despite the difficult economy and bleak future still had hopes and dreams for a beautiful tomorrow. The point of view switches from one character to another and to an omnipresent one as the story is told not from one person’s glimpse of life but a collection of experience to convey the terrors and political life in this era.

The title, waiting for an angel is adopted from the second chapter where Lomba and his friends have their future told by a fortune teller who introduces himself to them as a poet. One of the young men, whose name was not given, asks to know the day of his death which he hopes will be “spectacular and momentous”, a day which he is assured will know when the time come. He is killed in a gruesome manner after he defied the imposed curfew following a coup and engaging in fight with a military man. The fortune teller also informs Lomba of his future journey to prison. The story moves on to Bola, Lomba’s friend who is left grief stricken following the death of his parents and sister in a car crash, whose antigovernment speeches gets him arrested and beaten by soldiers. His great love married a rich man to pay for her mother's cancer treatment. With no chance of getting his own novel published, Lomba takes up a job writing on arts and culture for the Dial. We also get to see life on Povery Street through the eyes of Kela, a teenager sent to Lagos to live with his aunt after smoking weed in his father’s car, who encounters Lomba just prior to the protest demonstration and consequent bloodbath that send Lomba to prison.

The book in which fiction and historical political facts are intertwined focused in part on the predicaments and the longing for self-expression of writers/journalist in Nigeria during the military regime of Babangida/Abacha. Event such as Babangida's annulment of the elections and imprisonment of MKO Abiola; the death of the journalist Dele Giwa by letter bomb; the coup that brought Abacha to power; the hanging of the writer, Ken Saro-Wiwa; the expulsion of Nigeria from the Commonwealth of nations and the assassination of Abiola's wife, Kudirat.

The book is a compelling read of a time in the history of the nation. In each and every character, one identifies and remembers what life was like during the military regimes. These families depicted the everyday life, hopes and dreams of majority of the citizens living in Nigeria under Sani Abacha. It did not matter if they were rich or poor. In those days, you either had a voice or was silent, if you had a voice, then you are government’s enemy and had only the option of exile or prison and maybe death if not so lucky.

♥ Lara

Belgium: Sweet and pastry tasting in Teravun

It was the first Sunday of the month and I was told the bakeries are open to the general public for a little bit of tasting. There was a bakery right down the street of my host and my sweet mouth did not mind the long queue. I had way too many sweets that day but I sure enjoyed myself

♥ Lara

I met her once: RIP Goldie

Yesterday evening while going through my pictures, I came across a picture that I took with her at the Paris airport on my way back home in October. We are on the same Air France flight to Lagos. I was actually about to delete the picture because I do not like the outcome. I said to myself someday whenever I see her again, I would take a better picture.

I remember tweeting that day, I wish she could just ditch the false eyelashes because to me she is actually a beauty minus the lashes.

She was so cool headed and sat alone laughing at the article she was reading in the magazine. Some guy walked up to her and asked her about Prezzo, she was all smiles and replied that he was fine. 

My cousin called me last night to tell me she is dead and I wondered what  sort of joke that was. Off I was to Linda Ikeji's blog and there it was...I still could not believe it and I went off to twitter and the venom of that site turned my mood into a mess.

I actually did love her as an artiste, she was creative and better than most of the so called next big talent in the industry. I loved her video with Eldee, "Mole gboko lowo e" back in the days.

I guess I might keep the picture since I would never get a chance to take another one with her. Her death is so unexpected and sad...

Rest in Peace, Susan Oluwabimpe Harvey

♥ Lara 

Better a broken engagement than a broken marriage

How is Naimat* now, been a while? I asked

She dey oh, replied Halimah*

Shey she don finally do her Nikkah, I asked. To this I got a smile from Halimah and Julia*

Wetin happen now, I thought she was engaged and planning her wedding, I said

Ring wey she don throwey give the guy, Halima said with a straight face.

That shut me up and I needed no more information. For whatever reason, she called off the relationship, I admire Naimat’s courage.

Our gist continued to Halimah’s sister who is also Naimat’s friend. I found out that Jumai*, Halimah sister had ended her less than 2 years marriage. Jumai is just 26 year old with a child and now a separated from her hus. Halimah went on to tell how Jumai’s husband and family maltreated her, she was also physically abused. Jumai never told anyone until the day she could take it no longer. She left her husband’s family house along with her daugther without a pin dead in the night and the man has since returned to the US where he was based before they met and got married.

I talked about how I would rather break up an engagement than go ahead to waste my time and money to end up with a broken home. Julia disagreed with my opinion that in our society it is better to go ahead with the wedding even with doubt in mind and maybe get divorced after a child or two.

Funny how my mother also shares Julia’s opinion, Julia went ahead to say the society respects a former Mrs than a forever Miss who never made it to the altar.

As far as I can remember, I have never wanted to get married before the age of 30. It is really not a miss independent thingy, it was just this thought that creeped into my brain as a kid and I must say at the rate I am going, marriage will not be on my card before then. I remember telling my cousins about this decision of mine and they all decided to cast and bind the evil spirit of late marriage from my life.  When I made this decision, I really had no exact reason for it but nowadays when I sit back and think about it, I always knew I would not be ready for marriage before that age.

I wish a lot of people would just be true to themselves rather let society dictate to them, why not just make that decision to settle down in whenever they are emotionally ready for the next step.

*Not their real names

♥ Lara