Luck Won't Save Them Tonight

And you're not going to take what they've got to give
And you're not gonna let them take your will to live
Because they've taken enough and you've given them all you can give
...And Luck won't save them tonight.
Deadman's Gun - Ashtar Command

Three days ago I wrote the most bitter post of my life.

It was full of rage, frustration and more than a little defeatist. After proofreading it for typos, I hit the 'publish' button. Two things happened. One, I immediately felt regret for giving in to the depression of the moment and writing what I had.

Two; the app crashed and deleted the entire post.

I took a hint and stepped away from the iPad and blogger. Three days later, I'm glad i did.

*

Like everyone else (sane) in this country, I was livid when the announcement of the removal of fuel subsidy hit on the 1st. With the Boko Haram menace still looming over the nation, this couldn't have come at a worse time. But then i saw something that irritated me a lot more; people were joking about this.

I haven't put up a tweet since the year started. Instead I watched a parade of inane proportions fill twitter and bbm statuses as people joked, castigated each other and made cartoons over what to me, was a new era in the government brutalising the people.

It was at that time i felt that this Country was indeed beyond saving, and that we were all contributors to our own doom.

But, I guess when it's time, it's time. In less than a week what started as burning resentment has grown to a global movement with a fully detailed Wikipedia page no less.

So.

This post is a thank you to Nigerians all around the world who have, for the first time in a long time, put aside differences in beliefs, religion and tribe to come together. To show those that treat this country as their personal property that anger has a voice and retribution has a face.

And to anyone on the fence; this fight is for you and your children's future. If there's ever been a time when strength in numbers is needed, that time is now.

And to anyone on the other side of the fence, it's fine. You don't have to join; just get the hell out of the way.

We can win this one, people. We just have to fight for it.


#OccupyNigeria.

Of Random Laziness, Careers & The Apocalypse

We are the lazy generation
no more standing out in line
so good at wasting our time
The F Ups  - Lazy Generation

I'm on Leave.

Second week just ended with two more weeks to go. I've played so much PS3 that when things go wrong around the house I start looking for a 'reset' button. Everything from Call of Duty to Uncharted have made me the happiest man alive.

I've been considering a career change lately. Looking for something that doesn't involve Law, Writing or Advertising. Something that involves leather jackets, video game breaks and zero interaction with human beings. Salary doesn't have to be astronomical; I'm a reasonable man.

N30m per annum is quite manageable. Send me mail or something.

CaramelD came down as promised for her Grandma's epic burial (I have it on good authority that she fed about three villages and one township) so it was quite nice for her to stop by and spend some bonding time with her godson. Even if half the time he kept laughing at the really yellow lady who talked a bit funny.

Nothing but love, baby.

I've been thinking of starting an amateur photography blog. Strictly cellphone pictures for the first few months, no restrictions on type of phone. I've always loved pictures and I think there's always something fantastic to see, even in a hard place like 9ja. Random idea.

In an inspired moment, I have decided to grow a beard. Adding to the whole 'daddy' vibe, I guess the next logical step is to start wearing native tops, traditional sandals and referring to everyone as 'My Dear'.

I did have other 'image transformation plans' but they stretched into next year...and we all know the world ends next year.

You didn't KNOW? where have you been? Hollywood made a blockbuster about it and everything.

When you think about it, the world ending next year is actually quite convenient. None of all that long-term plan pressure. You don't have to worry about adding weight, promotions or getting married.

Oh and if you're out there and you haven't, you know, eaten of the forbidden fruit, well. I hear that particular tree don't grow in heaven ifyouknowarrimean.

Chomp chomp.

Fine, Freaksho has left the building.

Evolve or die, people.

The Game Changer

Call me Dad.

Homer.

Dad.

Homer.

Why, you little - !

Homer Simpson & Bart Simpson

Talk about the game changing.

It’s been what? Almost 3 months? Man, talk about SWITCH!

You know how people always knowingly nod and smile at you when they ask you 'so how's married life?' because they expect you to say something newcouply and sweet just so they can shake their heads at you and say, 'wait until the baby comes'.

You know those people right? Jackasses, i agree.

But. They have a point...the party doesn’t start until the baby comes. And then, oh sweet irony, the party never stops.

*

First off, let me tell you the question i hated the most:

'How does it feel to be a dad?'

Ugh. Why? Don’t ask that question. Why are you asking that question? This is not a Disney movie! I have no answer for you!

Becoming a dad isn’t like becoming a husband. For the latter you’re mostly the same; barring your sparkly wedding band and the fact that you’re now the property partner of someone else for life.

Becoming a dad is all about confusion, baby.

The confusion is hilarious. This is me who can modify software on 3 devices at the same time, create and execute complex ideas without writing them down and churn out copy in my sleep.

A baby starts crying next to me and i turn to jelly.

See, it's funny cos i had read, you know? I’d read blogs, books, consulted apps and queried a few doctors. Problem is, all that’s theory. Reality is when someone says, 'he's crying. Please bring him from the basket for me.'

I’d freeze in panic and look at the soft, delicate dude and ask…'how the hell do i pick him up?'

*

Parenting is like dancing while seriously drunk. Clumsy, but fun.

Well, don’t count the sleep you miss (and you will miss it - i mean that both ways), the way your macho apartment gets transformed from Cool Monotone to Baby Palace, your immediate and unconditional demotion to 2nd class citizen and the hazardous scenario that are diaper changes.

You're probably sitting there thinking this all sounds like a lot, abi? Don’t be fooled. It all happens in a flurry.

But the payoff...ah. 

Let me tell you.

About sixteen years ago, i noticed a stupid thing. Late evenings, when my brother and i would be talking about school that day, i would doze off sometimes for a few seconds...and jerk awake knowing that i had just been smiling like an idiot. I dunno why i did it, but it happened a few times and i noticed and forgot about it.

Two months ago i was rocking The Little Guy to sleep and as he dozed, i saw him smile.

And you see, that’s the whole point. He isn’t a project, or a task, or a test you have to survive and then get scored on. Your kid is a person all on his own. The little changes drive that home. Like the first time i walked across the room and i saw his eyes tracking me, letting me know he could finally see. Or how he’d fart in his sleep and startle himself with the sound and start crying. Or how, halfway through a breastfeeding session he would heave a sigh of relief when the milk hits the spot.

You care, you really do. You want to protect him, teach him stuff, keep making him laugh. And then one day you're kneeling down watching him sleep in ridiculous teddy bear pyjamas and it hits you.

You love him. Not because you want him to love you back, but because he has touched a part of you that you haven’t felt since you were a kid.

Go ahead and go Awww. I won’t judge you.

*

So now, I’m finally beginning to understand some things. Like how people end up with 300 pictures of their babies on their phones. Or sleep on a hospital couch for 5 nights without grumbling when your baby is ill. Or how all the left shoulders on your T-Shirts are a funny puke colour (I’ve dubbed it the Badge Of Honour) or true multitasking (I’ve perfected the art of rocking the baby and holding the Playstation control pad at the same time).  Sure, the seasoned vets out there might smirk at me and mutter phrases like ‘You’re just starting’. But the truth remains.

I’m doing it.

And Dad’s all that counts. Heh heh.

Evolve or Die, People.

There Will Be Blog

Yup. I'm still alive!

A post will be up very soon and the lights will be switched back on in this joint in a few days.

I can assure you I have an earful (eyeful?) for you once I get on these pages...plus, I do believe there's the small business of an unfinished story.

Patience. Freaksho always delivers. Even if it takes a year.

And now if you'll excuse me, I have to rock a baby to sleep.

Evolve or Die, fam.

Try, Mister: 28.8.11

(You people...are insatiable.)
*
The Bloody Show
When I saw the red tissue, everything kicked into auto. You read something long enough and when time comes to act, you're halfway through doing what you should be doing before you realize you're doing it.

Hospital bag. Change t-shirt. Grab ATM card. BlackBerry charger.

Get the fuck out the door now.

The drive back to the hospital was a blur. I remember trying to keep below the speed limit. I think we stopped to load up on cash first.

The story I had heard that morning beat in my head like a drum and soured my mouth.
*
If You Can, Scan
The methodical calmness in Hospitals...Jesus.
Naturally, the doctor on duty wasn't going to commit to anything till he knew why exactly we were bleeding. So we talked. He jotted. He used big medical words and Sirius characteristically forced him to break them down. I sat there, a picture of calm and composure while explosions went off in my brain.
Long story short, three things had to happen. One, we had to do a scan to be sure there wasn't a rupture. Two, we were going to be admitted. Three, in the eventuality that anything was amiss, well.

I tried not to think about that.

I had to wait three hours before driving to get the scan done. Then another forty minutes to get the scan done. During that time I made the video we'd always said we'd make, told jokes and tried not to think.

The scan showed everything was okay.

As night took hold on Lagos, I drove back to the hospital. I was wearing the same dull tee shirt, jeans and palms from the morning. I was unwashed, unrested and slightly jumpy.

I was also brewing a good case of Typhoid. But naturally, I wouldn't get to know that little nugget of information till later.
*
The doctor looked over the result, nodded satisfactorily and told us we'd be monitored overnight. If nothing happened, fine. By morning, we'd reach a decision.
As I settled on the small chair for the night and she waddled into bed, we laughed with relief about how the day had gone and both tried to sleep. I felt curiously feverish and attributed it to stress. We both tried to sleep.

Nothing would prepare us for how the next day would go.
*
This Pain Is Alive
The head doctor came in the morning, took a good look at the Blogger named Sirius, pressed down on her belly and broke her water with a pair of forceps ten minutes later.

We had talked about being Induced many months ago. Basically, in very crude terms, being induced is like pressing fast forward on your labour. It speeds everything up, ripens the cervix and dilated you at a faster clip than regular labour would. It's used when the body is already in gear to give birth...but still kind of sluggish.

The tradeoff is the Pain. It crashes a slow buildup

Back when we were dating, my then wife-to-be had told me how important it was for whoever she married to stand by her when the time came. She had been serious about it and I had been idealistic enough to say I could do it. My imagination had built a million scenarios and worst case scenarios and I didn't see how seeing my wife through labour would be a problem.

Not once did I imagine a scenario with me battling a mounting fever.

The first hour wasn't bad. We were still talking, watching the Oxytocin drip into her system. My kid sister arrived, and I was grateful for the company as we backed her up. The Nurses were...phenomenal.

The second hour, the pain ratcheted up. Third, it spiked.

By the forth hour, the room had gone surreal and the edge was beginning to bleed off reality.
*
You Must Focus
Sirius wasn't talking anymore. Hot short breaths through her mouth punctuated the contractions that racked her system.

I remember taking off my wedding band the second time she squeezed my hand because she almost crushed my fingers.

By the end of the day, my left hand would be numb.

When she started throwing up, I moved to stand. The nurse held out a hand and smiled calmly to me.

'it's okay. Don't worry. Just leave me and her.'

I sat back down.

Once I dozed off. Other times I found myself head to head with her panting in time with hers. She had told me not to talk, or say 'sorry'.

'just keep telling me to breathe'.

It was the last fully coherent sentence she would make in a while.
*
I'm trying not to drag this story.

My wife has never had a high threshold for pain. Sure, she's a tough bird, but pain? Naa. We'd made a deal before she went in - she didn't want to embarrass herself, so when she started screaming, I had to whisper and tell her to stop.

Hm.

She never screamed. She never shouted. The induction went on for seven mind bending hours. In the last hour she broke down and wept, shaking her head from side to side and begging for the pain to stop.

But she never screamed.
*
This Is It
We moved to the delivery room at the peak of the 7th hour. I knew this was where it would all end, one way or the other. As her legs went up and my head came down down, I tried to remember how to pray.

I won't go into details. Delivery is...hard to explain. If you've never seen it before, it can be a little jarring. But it's certainly not mind-wracking if you steele yourself.

I did. She did. But then, the baby was too big.

I can't explain a vacuum machine to you well. It's a device that goes in, is hand-pumped on one end while the other end is used to forcefully pull the baby out.

Fear my friends...is seeing your baby's head emerging from your wife, being viscously twisted and yanked to gain clearance.

It was the only time in the hour I was there, that I closed my eyes and turned away.

At 6pm on the dot, my baby was pulled out, full, big, and covered in grime. Before I could voice the words screaming in my head, my wife's weak, confused voice spoke up.

'why...why isn't he breathing?'
*
it took oxygen. A suction pipe and thirty seconds of eternity before I heard that cry. I had died a million deaths by then and gone numb.

As the nurses set on cleaning him and my wife's head dropped back to the pillow, I finally, finally felt myself smile.

Fuck it. That's my son.
*
we just got home yesterday and the news has gone round the world already. CaramelD is probably still crying at the thought of being a Godmother after all the shopping Sirius made her do(...see her post on being a Baby shopping expert). Sirius is booty hopping in front of the mirror and I'm finally allowed to fall sick and get better. Soon. I hope.

There was a note CaramelD's mom sent in the baby swag cargo we ordered a few weeks back. Remember what I mentioned about that holiday?

The note said 'with love...from the house where it all started.'

Lol.

Oh, and The Boy? Well. I'll let you tell it.

Evolve and Live, people.

"All that I have, all that I've learned, everything I feel, all this and more... I bequeath you, my son. You will carry me inside you, all the days of your life. You will make my strength your own. See my life through your eyes, as your life will be seen through mine. The son becomes the father and the father, the son. This is all all I can send you, Kal-El."


- Marlon Brando, Superman I


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Try, Mister.

girl i'm in love with you baby
and i want you to know
that i'm hooked on your body
and i'm trying to be yours


The Dream - Rockin' That Sh*t

i'm burning up with a fever as i type this, but i still have a wild grin on my face anyway. if you see typos, allow. this man is high as a facking kite.

my blog has been dead for months. projects half abandoned, stories unceremoniously left hanging and cobwebs all over the place. yeah, i'm lazy, but i swear, there's been a reason.

transformation usually doesn't shock when it happens over time. usually. this one socked me in the gut. first off, it's trying to cope with the little things over time. sleep patterns. looks. appetite changes. each one's absurdity topping the last till i simply admitted that this wasn't change; this was one hundred per cent replacement.

oh, this isn't about me. i'm trying to tell you about how Sirius became Fiona from Shrek.

*
i could tell you about the waddling, the hurling, the snoring or the scary as a sonovabitch musclepull that woke you up in the night with screams bouncing off the walls. no need. lets skip a bit. i have a lot of ground to cover. if you still haven't figured out where this is headed, you probably haven't had your vitamins this morning.

*
Show Some Class
i hate Pre Natal classes.
i hate it more than i hated Marriage Counselling - and i hated those something fierce. Pre Natal was annoying on so many grounds. first it took place in a hospital. bad. second, pregnant women always look so morose and temperamental. yeah we know you didnt do this to yourselves but COME ON! you enjoyed it too!

third. the waiting. interminable. it's like the world hit pause.
fourth and final reason?
those videos.
those goddamned, morale draining hypnotic horror videos.
by my fifth visit i was ready to scream when pregnancy for dummies came on. i just wanted to curl into a ball and sob. Pre Natal, like every other experience thats actually good for you, was not a high point in my life.
*
A Google Generation
many years ago, even though she denies it, i taught Sirius the beauty of googling reviews for gadgets before purchase. never read manufacturer reviews, go to forums, paysites and trawl through comments to determine the fidelity of products. hell, once, when we were particularly optimistic, we even googled up some car reviews.

flash forward a few years and i'm seeing googles for breast pumps, collapsible baby baths and moses baskets.
it's all very funny really, once you snap out of the shock. women have a whole community online where they share the most...startling things. i learnt more than i had ever wanted to and added new words to my vocabulary. trimester. cervix. fondal.
google became a scary blank slate of possibilities.
*
Tales, Tails and Pales
you may not know this. but there are videos of women giving birth on youtube.
between you and i, i blame hollywood. we've grown to believe in lies. water breaks. she has to be rushed to the hospital already in labour, huffing and puffing, she sweats a little, some comical screaming and boom! theres the baby, all cleaned up by God himself and wailing that cute baby cry.
thats what i grew up seeing.
so what. in the name. of sweet baby Jesus. was wrong. with the women on youtube?
screaming. mass hysteria. sweat pouring in buckets. geysers of mysterious bodily fluids exploding once the baby was yanked out.
and dear God, the babies. they looked like aliens. why was there so much BLOOD?
being made to watch those videos, i cursed the movies for their lies. their shameless, hopeless, lies.
*
Coincidences Don't Exist 
i had bookmarks, i had subscriptions. i had books that gave helpful info like they were talking to misguided ignorant malefolk. in essence, me.
then, like any self respecting father of this generation, i had apps. iPad apps, Mobile apps, apps that counted down, showed me what to expect and never stopped reminding me that we were in the third trimester, with an expected showing of September 3rd, 2011. (smart cookies reading this can calculate roughly back to the date of ah, inception. chances are you'd come up with a certain vacation...but more on that later)
on saturday the 27th (a few days ago now) she asked that i take her to what we figured would be the last Pre Natal class. now here's the important part. originally, we had registered at this one hospital. pretty far from the house, at the other end of the state. now while they were good and all, i was really bothered about having to drive long distances in the AM (babies and their bad habit of coming at night). Lagos is still Lagos, and i wanted to minimize risk.
so, we registered at a second hospital closer home to act as a back up. she had been doing classes at both on alternating days and the backup hospital seemed very cautious...so she wanted to clarify from our first choice. so, saturday morning, right after environmental, we drove across the state to go ask the nice doctors some questions.
*
in the lobby she met a couple she knew from...somewhere. i was busy reading Punisher Max comics on my iPad to block out the sickly sweet voices of Pregnancy For Dummies. when she saud hi to the lady and mumbled something to me, i didn't really pay attention. but i did notice, in a forgetful kind of way, that her friend's husband had tried to get my attention. i had nodded politely and gone back to my comic book.
life. always funny.
*
as we prepared to see the doctor after a wait, i saw the couple emerging were the couple we had met downstairs. the husband looked at me, seized me by the arm and steered me away.
'sir, i dont know you. but i've seen your wife at ****** hospital when i took my wife there.'
it took me a minute to realize he was talking about our backup hospital. the one close to my house.
his eyes burned with something i couldn't recognize immediately.
'i'm begging you. don't take your wife back to that hospital again. please.'
i shook my head in confusion and started to speak when he interrupted.
'my wife went into labour two weeks ago. those people killed our baby.'
*
Blood & Loss
i dont want to talk about their loss too much.
it shook me to the core, standing there hearing him speak. his wife went into labour, the doctor was inexperienced, he could only get the baby half out and had to call another doctor for advice.
from the labour room.
for 45 minutes.
9 months down the drain. all that effort. all that discomfort.
when my wife and i got home a few hours later and i slumped on the bed, all i could think of was how i couldnt even understand how such a thing would affect a couple.
and my wife walked out of the bathroom holding a wad of tissue with blood on it.
and life, as i knew it, changed for ever.
*
im sorry.
i thought i would be able to tell this all in one. but this fever has me burning up bad. i have to take something for it... hopefully i'll be back to finish this up.
hang in there.
to be concluded

WET & WILD

I feel it in my fingers...I feel it in my toes
 Wet Wet Wet - Love Is All Around Me

Hey guys! Was that rain last Sunday EPIC or what?

Oh, I'm talking to my Lagos peoples here. You crazy wet bunch you.

I mean, twelve hours of rain! That was biblical. On a Sunday? Come on. You just know there was some smiting going down right there.

Me, I was in my house, feet up, watching the disaster unfold via pictures on twitter. Social networking is actually quite awesome, let me tell you. Give a man half the chance and he'll tweet while he drowns. It'd be like;

Car not moving. Water everywhere. Wizkid CD just floated outside the window. :( must climb out and swim to pavement. #dontdull.

However, I would like to take a moment to sympathize with all the people in Lekki who suffered flooded houses and discomfort. I can only imagine how difficult it must've been for you.

That being said...

...did you guys just DIE laughing over those Lekki pictures like I did or WHAT???

How do you handle that though? One minute you're asleep in your bed, the next minute you and your bed are floating through the toll gate, screaming at the people on the roof of Get Arena for help.

I guess desperate times call for desperate measures. It wouldn't hurt to sleep in an inflatable raft ON the bed, y'know? Or maybe, or use something as an anchor in your house and chain it to your leg. Or elbow. There is the small risk of drowning then, but it beats the embarrassment of morosely drifting down the highway in boxers and singlet.

A friend of mine said he was in his house watching the water rise and when he saw, uh, it wasn't stopping, he decided to make a run for it and escape the compound in his car. But then the water got the car and he couldn't go anywhere.

He told me this over the phone. I haven't laughed so hard in months. I laughed so hard tears came out of my eyes and I doubled over making mewling noises. I mean, yeah, he deleted me off his blackberry list and all, but am I the only one that sees how humorous that whole scene is?

Okay. I'm going to go now and do something constructive. The forecast shows at least another seven days of rain.

To anyone that gets stuck in it this time, I want to say just one thing.

Be considerate.

TAKE PICTURES!!!

evolve or die, people!

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One Of A Hundred

Just this life
I need no other

Dido - Us 2 Little Gods

I don't know if one year makes you an authority on the issue, but I'm going to talk about it anyway.

I know a lot of people tell you great stories about newlyweds. Thats nice. I dont know about them, but today means i've been married for exactly one year. So if you've got time and you wanna know, pull up a chair.

Let me tell you what Marriage is all about.

Marriage is learning to concede. No, put your hand down and listen to me. Marriage is learning to live to fight another day. Logic goes out the window, Welcome to the Emotion Ocean. You WILL be captain of this boat.

Marriage is fighting. And i'm not talking about those weak ass squabbles you used to get into when you were dating. If you haven't stood toe-to-toe, face-to-face in a stare-down, or had a heated argument in the most unlikely place (church) over the unlikeliest things (shoe arrangements)...Marry. You will.

Marriage is taking instructions. I don't know what to tell you man, it's painful. You spend your teenage years waiting to be free from your folks always telling you what to do and then... you marry someone who tells you what to do. Take out the trash. Call your mom. Don't dance in the shower. 
Face it. Your drill sergeant has boobs.

Marriage is the execution of Me. See that word there, 'Me'? Dead. Gone. Shot twice at the back of the head in some seedy back alley. What you have now is We - which supersedes everything you'd want to do. There's no more gung-ho shopping or acting on impulse here. Your treasured privacy also vanishes. Its like your universe just shrunk and got bigger at the same time.

Okay.

Marriage is about weakness. Moments of uncertainty or emotional pain...induced by life, work, whatever you want to call it. Times when the absolute hopelessness of a situation threatens to overwhelm you.

And all you have.

Is this one person.

Who really, between you and I, has no reason to.

But still loves you anyway, fierce enough to light up that darkness and help you to your feet.

Marriage is sharing some incredible, unscripted moments that make you laugh and keep replaying in your head...moments that imagination can't create, anger can't erase and the memory of which simply get better with time.

So, Sirius.

Marrying you is still the smartest (and coolest) thing I ever did...and a geek like me couldn't have wished for a better wingman.

Happy Anniversary,baby. Here's to the first of a hundred years together. :)

Oh.

And happy birthday too.


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