The Diary of Kundili The Gateman

Kyan gani!

Chai!

The way small madam and her bobo dey fire gun for her papa and mama bed ehn, chai! The sound dem dey make alone sef dey give me kongi for my duty post talk less of when I dey watch the blue film for my cinema – the block I put on top my Mai Guard bench close to them window, them no dey shame, them dey leave window open like big madam gap-tooth. No wonder say at my age I dey wake up with, er... wetin them dey call am again? Yes! 'Wet dreams'! Na so! My potential pikin go dey pour waste comot for my thing. The only time wey I come want make e work – when I nack my Otepu apako to impregnate am, so she no go waka leave me, comot with that yaga yaga Yoruba yahoo boy, Mutiu, – e no work o! Ba ya aiki.

Every morning I wake up with the same matter, same tori: which side of bed Oga go wake? Walahi! My life go simple if I just know which side. Na the side wey e wake na im go show the car wey I suppose wash and the one I no suppose wash; how I go cut flower; when I fit on the generator ko when I suppose wake for morning. I remember the day wey he fight with big madam wey she lock am outside house. ‘Iron Lady’! Ha-ha, yeye man, I no fit laugh. That night sha, na inside Jeep he sleep and when me wake for 6 say make I go on generator, instead of make generator on, na Oga dirty slap light my face. All the vex wey he vex from night till morning na im e pour for my face. When I ask am wetin I do, he talk say I wake for six, say shey I no know say e too early? Say na so my waka for early morning dey disturb am like alarm wey e no fit kill. After that day waka pass like tolotolo, I wake for six-thirty, e talk say me I wake too late, say I no make am ready for the meeting wey he get for eight o’clock. He come tell Caro, the house girl, my own person, say make she no give me food till evening. Chai! I don suffer! Abeg wetin be 6, wetin be 6:30? Tsk-tsk. They don dey follow oga for dat Senator place wey e dey work. Anyway sha, na God wan kuku judge am, na why He give am bad pikin be that.

I dey always hear say only pikin dey spoil, I no believe am till I see the correct tins my small madam dey do. At 18 years, her bed don spoil finish sote na her parents bed she dey use do stadium. From one small boy to another; from Carrot Jean to Boot-cut bobo, she just dey change them like cloth she dey put for body. The cloth she dey wear nko? Cloth wey fit make maye curse himself; wey fit make Reverend Father forget holy creed; wey fit make mahaukaci well; wey fit make Senator forget im salary and allowee; wey fit make Dame sabi oyinbo pass me; wey even fit make my Oga, e remain small, forget say na him be her papa. Cloth wey fit make me, Kundili, piss for body. Kai! I still fit remember the day well well, why I no go remember the day wey put my life for wheel chair, na my room I dey jeje dey hear that small boy wey name im album after woman toto. Just wait; no make your blood hot, I go reach there soon. My tori no get head, e no get tail, e be like this world wey we dey, all join.

But I don try for my small madam o! Na me dey help am with all the party she dey do for house. Na me be DJ, cleaner, bouncer, comedian sef na me. Abi dem think say I no know when dem go dey laugh me and my oyinbo. Waka! If not for that Oga Musa, wey dey carry us go farm for im farm, vide maimako make e dey teach us for class. Shege! Anyway, na the money she dey give me I dey use buy extra Claro, condom and Burukutu for Mama Sikira Joint. So two cut two, me no fit vex. Some of im friends ehn, dem dey make me vex sometimes. Ba su da hankali fa. That her last bobo, the one wey put me for the kasala wey big pass my head, Benson, na im I hate pass. Dem no know say if no be me, hmmm, Tonto tori for don long pass her papa tribal mark. Na me dey help her enter house, for night, when she come back from party for town. Na me dey clean im vomit and im car before im mama and papa wake for morning. If no be for me, Oga and big madam for done kill her finish, she for don turn spoil Kilishi. But, if I sabi wetin she be wan use me do that day ehn, I for hold my ‘piss’ say no sharp sharp. See my life now, na inside cold room wey dey smell of piss I dey, dey count my broken eggs.

That day, the one wey I piss for body; wey small madam turn me to ‘nonentity’, ‘scallywag’ like Oga dey call am, I dey my room dey joli the only time I fit – afternoon, when I hear ‘koko koko’ for my dormot. I say ‘who it is’, she say ‘Tonto’. I stand up sharp sharp say ‘come in’ with small shock for my face. With all the parol wey we dey do, she never take leg waka come my room before. Amma as she enter all that comot for my mind cak; my body turn leaf for harmattan – e dry, dey shake, dey do ‘kra kra’ for mouth like er…co-o-ornflaes. My body cold for outside, blood dey hot for inside. I no sabi when sweat begin comot for my body as my heart no gree rest like antelope wey Lion dey chase for back. Na im red ‘kokoka’ shoe my eye first see, sote my eye reach im skirt wey near im dawawu like dem yaga yaga politicians dey to money – hell fire kind. The only thing wey I fit see for d shirt wey she wear be the two Orisa wey big pass Caro wrap of semo. I no see again before my mouth begin misfire as I say ‘W-w-what does you want’. She no even answer me, she just dey near me with her witch eyes wey fit turn Peter, that oyinbo wey sabi book well well, wey dey come greet Oga for house, to mumu. Until I begin dey feel my piss dey fall for my sakwato, she no stop. The time wey she use rape my shaky-shaky lips, the only thing wey remain for my mind na picture of me and Tonto inside Oga room dey do kerewa. Na like say she do me jazz. Walahi, I no remember anything after. Something wey I suppose put for mind till I waka comot for dis life, wey suppose dey gimme ogbonge wet dream for inside this cold room wey I dey – me, correct babe, one bed or one floor; e no matter – all I remember na say my zip tear, im cloth sef tear, my John Thomas rise and we fall.

Na fall we fall like fa’duwar rana, but the next rana no meet me for Senator and Mrs Sylva house or any place wey fit resemble house o! Hmm!

Three things happen after I reach small madam London. One: I hear Tonto dey shout, dey cry ‘yay’ ‘ah’ ‘rape’ ‘Kundili’ as Oga motor do ‘pinpinpin’ for gate. I still dey floor, take my hand dey rub belle. Two: my eye blind, Oga bodyguard and security rush me with blow sote I hear my mouth say na me do am.

Hmm, guess where I dey now.

Yes! Correct!

Prison.

Uku: them talk say Tonto don get belle, say na me get pikin. But that mahaukaci wey them dey call Benson come Kuje today give me rice chop, say Tonto want make I chop make I no suffer. He siddon tell me the last tori for the matter. He say, Tonto belle na im own, h’m, say Tonto just wan find blame put for person head, my head. Say me be mugu. But no be there the mahaukaci finish, e finish when he finish me, mugu. As he standa, he shine im teeth for my face say Tonto put guba for the food. I look am, e laugh, waka comot.

Shege!

© @IdiAce

NEMESIS

Many a ‘yes’ and many a ‘no’ have I uttered, without reflecting on whether I was right or not. And in my arrogance I fail; fail to go back; fail to do that which I failed to do. In the face of booty and great plunder, I entered faceless; nothing to hide that which I bore within all along. I, then, sauntered boldly into unknown lands, with no compass to guide me; unrepentantly blind, wafted in by my own folly.

Many a night, I seemed to emerge spent, howbeit victorious.

Until, alas, I met my match.

The sky in protest chose a side, Black, and it was time to make another one. Between the beguiling end and heaving bosoms of nemesis I lay – the past and the future – my actions and justice – I lay, satisfied with conceited pleasure. Haunted by her enchanting vivacity, I lay, till she turned her back to me.

‘Do you really want it?’ she inquired

            In the face of utmost satisfaction, I stood, aroused, without an answer – that which I had spurned had come back to haunt me. It started slowly, questions; how do I go in; back or front; in or out; yes or no? Again! I was back to my quandary. Yes or no? It didn’t matter what I had chosen, the realization of what blind lust had driven me to, was making me hard. At that moment, I could not be pushed by libido anymore; it only made me standstill, hard, unyielding; ‘yes or no?’

            Like a trained soldier in the swampy forest of the Biafra I stood; still, firm, but not willing to cock my gun without a reason. Yes or no? I stood, hard, armed, ready to fire if I heard the call. A soft whisper, a moan, anything that could push me forward – plunge me into the deep.

            But it never came.

            She waited deftly, refusing to push me in. I was the man; responsible for my actions; her back; keeping her from religious banter, if ever an issue were to come out of her. She was willing to come with me, whenever I was ready to go in.

Nemesis.

Whichever way you chose to handle what lay behind, could loosen or tighten your grip on the mountains that lay in front, albeit they are barely seen.

Angst. Trigger-ready. I hesitated. A moment, that was it, I was down never to rise gallantly for her amusement. I holstered my weapon, stepped back, looking at what lay behind, unsure of what lay ahead. I turned around.

Not today…

I walked into the yellowing sky, content to see it birthed from its womb. Indeed it is said ‘…but joy cometh in the morn’

The Diaries of Kundili The Gateman

Chapter 1:

Simply amazing!

Kai!

The way small madam and her bobo dey fire gun for her papa and mama bed ehn, chai! The sounds dem dey make alone sef dey give me kongi for my duty post talk less of when I dey watch the live blue film from my artificial cinema – the brick arranged delicately on my ragged bench directly overlooking the room. No wonder say at my age I dey wake up with, er...wetin dem dey call am again? Yes! 'Wet dreams'! Na so! My potential pikin go dey pour waste comot for my thing. The only time wey I come want make e work – when I nack my girlfriend apako to give am belle, so she no go run away with that yaga yaga Yoruba yahoo boy, Mutiu, – e no work o!

Every morning I wake up with the same palaver: which side of bed Oga go wake up? Walahi! My life go simple if I just know which side. Na the side e wake up dey determine the car which I suppose wash and which one I no suppose wash; the height of the flower I suppose cut;  what time I suppose on the generator; even when I suppose wake for morning. I remember the day wey he fight with big madam wey she lock am outside the house. Ha-ha, yeye man, I no fit laugh. That night sha, na inside Jeep he sleep and by the time me wake up for 6am say make I go on generator, instead of make generator on, na Oga dirty slap light my face. All the vex wey he vex from night till morning na im e pour for my face. When I ask am wetin I do, he talk say I wake up for six, say shey I no know say e too early? Say na so my waka for early morning dey disturb am like alarm wey e no fit kill. The day after that day, I wake up for six-thirty, e talk say me I wake up too late, say I no make am ready for meeting he get for eight o’clock. He come tell Caro, the house girl, say make she no give me food till evening. Chai! I don suffer! Abeg wetin be the difference between six and six-thirty. Tsk-tsk. Anyway sha, na God wan kuku punish am, na why He give am bad pikin be that.

I dey always hear say only pikin dey spoil, I no believe am till I see the wonders my little madam dey perform. At eighteen, her bed don spoil finish sote na her parents bed she dey use do stadium. From one small boy to another; from Carrot Jeans to Boot-cut boy, she just dey change them like cloth for body. The clothes she dey where nko? Clothes wey fit make babalawo curse himself; wey fit make Reverend Father forget holy creed; wey fit make mad man well; wey fit make Senator forget im salary and allowance; wey fit make Dame speak correct oyinbo; wey even fit make my Oga almost forget say na him be her papa. Clothes wey fit make me, Kundili, piss for body. Kasa! I still fit remember that day very well, why I no go remember the day wey change my life forever, na my room I dey jeje dey listen to that small boy wey name im album after woman toto. Just wait; no make your blood hot, I go reach there very soon.

But I don try for my small madam o! Na me dey help am with all the party she dey do for house. Na me be DJ, cleaner, bouncer, even the comedian sef na me. Abi dem think say I no know when dem go dey laugh me and my oyinbo. Waka! Anyway, na the money she dey pay me I dey use buy extra Claro and Ogogoro for Mama Sikira Joint. So two cut two, me no need vex. Some of her friends dey make me vex sometimes, especially that her last bobo, the one wey put me for kasala wey big pass my head, Benson. Dem no know how important I be to Tonto. Na me dey help her enter house for midnight when she come back from party for town. Na me dey clean her vomit and her Moto before im mama and papa wake up for morning. If no be for me, Oga and big madam for done kill her finish. But if I know wetin she be wan use me do for that day, I for hold my piss say no sharp sharp. See my life now, na inside one cold room wey dey smell of piss I dey, dey count my broken eggs.

That day, wey I piss for body; wey small madam turn me to nonentity, ‘scallywag’ like Oga dey call am, I dey my room dey enjoy the only time for day I fit enjoy – afternoon, when I hear ‘koko koko’ for my door. I say ‘who is it’, she say ‘Tonto’. I stand up sharp sharp say ‘come in’ with shock for my face. With all the parole wey we dey do, she never come my room before. But as she enter all that comot for my mind; ma body turn leaf for harmattan season – stiff, crunchy and shaky like er…co-o-ornflakes. My body cold for outside, my blood dey hot for inside. I no even know when sweat begin comot for my body as my heart no gree rest like antelope wey Lion dey chase for back. She where those her red ‘kokoka’ shoe with the bottom of her skirt close to her waist like politicians dey to money – dangerously close.The only thing I fit talk for her top be say I fit see two pointy things dey shoot out for am. I no need see any other thing before my mouth begin misfire as I say ‘W-w-what do you want’. She no even answer me, she just dey near me with her witchcraft eyes wey fit turn Einstein to mumu, until I start to dey feel my piss dey run for my sokoto. By the time she finish raping my shaky-shaky lips, the only thing wey remain for my brain na – nothing. Nothing! Na me tell you! Na like say she give me jazz, because I no remember anything after that. For something wey I suppose put for mind till I go die – me, the girl of my dreams, one bed – all I remember na torn clothes, my John Thomas rising and we falling.

Falling we did, but the next day’s sun rising I no see for Senator and Mrs Dike’s house or anywhere wey fit resemble house o!

H’m, guess where I dey now.

Yes! Correct!

Prison.

© @IdiAce

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CREATIVITY

“There are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between there are doors…”

-          William Blake

            Have you ever wondered if you could know everything you knew or if you could remember everything you knew? Truthfully, no matter how sharp a man’s mind is, I think he can never know all that he knows neither can he remember all that he knows nor effectively and exhaustively utilize all that he knows.

One question, perhaps an unasked question, has been left unanswered: if a man can never know all that he knows, then what does he know?

            What is the measure of our knowledge? Is it measured in the amount of things we know (in the realm of the sub-conscious); or in the amount of things we remember we know (in the realm of a weak mind); or is it measured in the amount of things that we know we know (in the realm of the conscious)?

            The human mind is the deepest vortex ‘known’ to man – sucking anything, everything and sometimes things outside everything that comes its way. It combines this nature with being ruminant – rehashing things that come its way. Notably, of these two aspects of its nature, man has no control over the former, but to a large extent has control over the latter.

I think that an effective understanding of this control is the unit of measurement for knowledge.

Now, only a trained mind can remember all that he (epignosis) knows, but when he does not know all that he knows, he can only remember all that he knows he knows. Hence, no matter how hard a man tries to work at remembering all that he ‘knows’, he would always fail.

Following this laid down premise, how then do we know all that we know?

Our sub-conscious is like a strong tide banging against the walls we’ve built within, walls of emotion, values, religion, superfluous activities, the quest for survival and relevance and the strongest of them all; education. These walls were, albeit most times unintentional, built by the society and world we live in, imposed on us from birth, caging our minds from truly living. Thus, realizing that all that we know is hidden in the titanic bank of our sub-conscious, how then do we empty, or perhaps a better word; enjoy, this vast vortex of knowledge?

What is the link between the sub-conscious and the conscious?

Liberty.

The mind needs to be free from its caging walls, perhaps just to hear the silence in the world and the intellectual orchestra in the mind.

The world has fed us a great lie, or so I thought. You do not need to train the mind; you need to free the mind. For training only enhances remembrance which we’ve discovered is just a futile attempt to get that which you do not know you know. Let the mind be at peace with itself – allowing it to roam to every nook and cranny of its entire being – bringing to fore all that it knows and does not know it knows. At that precise moment, the mind holds the power which has been indiscriminately assigned or ascribed to knowledge, fake knowledge.

The process of giving power to the mind is contemplation; one of the easiest tasks in life, yet it has become the hardest. For those walls built within have supressed our mind, hence, creating an atmosphere where we constantly struggle against all the noise in the world, clawing against the walls it forms in our minds.

Occasionally, we get successful at supressing those walls, and then the flow of our sub-conscious spills over. And sometimes we aren’t strong enough but the tide of our sub-conscious becomes so strong it spills over. At these times, we come up with something special, innovative if you like. We, at these times, are described as being creative, but I say it is just unknown knowledge splashed upon reality.

What then is creativity?

Creativity is when we go beyond what we know we know. Beyond where our conscious is totally and completely enmeshed with our sub-conscious, lies creativity, a modicum of divinity - a shore to which no man, acclaimed or proclaimed intelligent, has ever reached unaided.

A question then arises; how?

Alas, I cannot escape, I refer back to my previous insinuation; ‘or so I thought’. Freedom or liberty is not free, especially when you are not born with it, but then are we ever born with it? If we have to struggle or fight to be free, especially a struggle of a kind I am about to put forward, can we say we are truly free, freedom being total escape from fetters, encumbrances, laws and bondages that deter you from doing whatever in whatever way? If freedom was feasible in its entirety, then the human mind might attain perfection. But since perfection isn’t a human possibility and all we can do is try, we cannot totally free the mind, we can only try. And by trying, we train ourselves to suppress all encumbrances that hold the mind captive.

Therefore, we should train the mind to be free, not train the mind to remember, for we know not what we know. The more we desire to know, the more we need to release our mind from whatever hold may keep it from getting to that which we do not know.

But when do we stop craving, wanting, desiring? Do we stop when satisfaction is infinite? Or do we still crave for more – something beyond the ephemeral state of our wanton pleasure – a taste of divinity?

‘There are things that are known and things that are unknown’ and between there are doors (the known known and the unknown known). But to really reach the unknown is what I call creativity.

MILLENNIUM DEVELOPMENT GOALS; A REALITY OR AN ILLUSION FOR NIGERIA

From the beginning of time, men have always had goals to guide them, that it almost became impossible to complete a task or a list of tasks without having a goal or a set of goals leading their way like a guiding light in the dark.  Each goal, being well-tailored to fit peculiar circumstances and situations, is most often than not designed to fit into a big picture. Like a new born babe, whose ultimate aim is to move, would set goals or perhaps have goals set for him by his parents, with each circumstance a goal is born in order to achieve an ultimate aim. A baby would drag himself on the floor in order to move; slowly he learns how to crawl and then walking becomes another goal for him. Eventually, after so many falls he can walk. Sooner or later, running becomes another goal because he wants to move faster. At the end of the process, movement is achieved. In this light, the international community through the United Nations in September 2000, decided to establish a set of goals in order to achieve a common aim – to encourage development by improving social and economic conditions in the world's poorest countries. These goals were regarded as the Millennium Development Goals and they were to be achieved by the year 2015.

There are eight goals to be achieved by 2015 and they are; to eradicate extreme poverty and hunger, achieve universal primary education, promote gender equality and empower women, reduce child mortality, improve maternal health, combat HIV/AIDS, malaria and other diseases, ensure environmental sustainability and to develop a global partnership for development. It was the presumption that if these goals were strictly adhered to and achieved, poverty and under-development would eventually be a thing of the past. However, the dream of the international community has not come to reality as there are still a lot of difficult challenges to be overcome, especially in African countries and countries in Western Asia, Eastern Europe and Central Asia.

Nigeria – Africa’s most populated country, with a population of over one hundred and fifty million, is endowed with great human and natural resources. This, however, has not reflected in our implementation of the Millennium Development Goals. We are one of the countries that are lagging behind in successfully implementing the Millennium Development Goals. Despite the fact that we earn more than three hundred billion dollars from oil revenue, we still remain one of the poorest nations in the world. Checking recent statistics it would be seen that the previous statement is not untrue, for 92% of the population of Nigeria live under two dollars a day while 71% of the population live under one dollar a day. Furthermore, by 2008, the major source for drinking and cooking for 28.4% of Nigerians is a bore-hole hand pump. 97% of Hausa girls between the ages of 17 and 22 from poor homes have fewer than two years of education. Only 25 seats in the national parliament are held by women while 333 seats are held by men. 64.5% of girls between the ages of 15 and 22 did not use condoms in their last sexual encounter. As of 2008, 66.8% of children under the age of 5 did not use the appropriate anti-malarial drugs when they were treated for fever. Finally, only 13% of terrestrial and marine areas are protected. Obviously, Nigeria is woefully behind in achieving the United Nations Millennium Development Goals and achieving these goals could seem like an illusion for Nigeria. However, a great lesson about life is that there are always different sides to a story.

The difference between reality and illusion is perception. Hence, can one really say that because Nigeria has been unsuccessful in implementing the United Nations Millennium Development Goals; it is an illusion for us to implement them? No, I beg to disagree; for a man’s perception of a thing forms his reality. I believe that the United Nations Millennium Development Goals are achievable and could be a reality, if only we all believe it is. A bible quote says ‘As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he’. I believe this statement to be a fact because to achieve a thing it must firstly be conceived in the mind. Yes, the government have their own fault, but they cannot do it alone. From believing, we as Nigerians should go a step further by showing our dear country that we love her. We should participate in our own governance by voting wisely. We can help keep our environment clean by picking up our own trash. Respecting each other, avoiding any form of discrimination, enlightening our neighbours and taking care of the needy amongst us; are little virtues that could help make the United Nations Millennium Development Goals a reality. Little virtues, they say, make a great impact.

I conclude by stating that whether in reality or illusion, we, Nigerians, make our own future, therefore, our answer is literally in our own hands.