'Oga don go defence head-kuatas for Lagos'

By Dele Oluwole

“You won see oga? For wetin? O ga don go defence head-kuatas for Lagos, na dia be im new office now”. It’s about eight years now yet the memory of this remarkable conversation have registered itself indelibly in my mind. Suddenly this afternoon the event again restored itself in my mind and I can remember very well just like it occurred 24 hours a go.
I had just completed the national youth service corps and was in dire need of a job to keep the battered body from failing and the soul from going astray. Five days before the conversation with this army sergeant I had visited the naval headquarters in Abuja to see a navy admiral after obtaining the Nigerian Defence Academy (NDA) officer short service form as a graduate. I remember holding the form tightly like a trophy as I was among the lucky few who took the initiative to travel from Lagos to Abuja for the priceless form as the army headquarters in Lagos claimed it had run out of forms, but the same form was still exclusively available for applicants that could afford to part with the unofficial N5000, this development was coming principally at a time when the last NYSC stipend, ‘alawi’ in my account had been expended on public transport to interview venues.

I couldn’t afford the supposedly free form that was being obtained for N5000, instead of climbing the mountain I thought of a way round it, and that was after a tip off from a friend that the same form was available for free in the federal capital territory, Abuja. That evening I decided to embark on an impromptu trip to Abuja. At the Oyingbo motor park all I had was N760 and unfortunately a one way trip to Abuja on the popular Ekene Dili Chukwu luxurious bus was going to cost me N750. I resolved to buy the ticket anyway and was neither bothered about how to come back nor what will sustain me while in Abuja. My immediate concern was to obtain the supposedly free form that was going for N5000 in Lagos for free; I therefore threw caution to the wind, after all I was already equipped to the teeth as I had originals of all academic qualifications, photocopies, and passport photographs, and some toiletries (Dailyneed tooth paste, brush, and Joy bar soap) in my Bagco (cement) super sack bag.

I was about handling over the N750 to the conductor when I decided to walk round the park for the last time, pay for the fare and take my seat in the Abuja bound bus when suddenly I heard a conductor calling out for 2 more passengers for only N550. I immediately dashed toward him and asked ‘N550?’ ‘Yes, come in’ he replied. I stood at the door, looked in the bus and saw that the seats were all occupied with a lot more people standing. I then turned to him asking where I was going to seat. He replied fuming ‘I beg commot for road if you never ready to go make better passengers enter, no be people dey stand from Lagos to Maiduguri for 18 hours?’. As I was about stepping out my eyes caught three people at the door waiting impatiently to take my place. In about 3 seconds I joggled my brain for alternatives and found none, with immediate effect of alacrity (apology, Chief Eleyimi of village headmaster fame) I took the fastest reverse ever to join my ‘comrades’ to stand for 9 hours bus trip to Abuja. After securing a standing space, I began to encouraged myself; after all I would still have some change left to feed with while in the capital city. I was not prepared to bother my head over the return trip and as far as I was concerned ‘I shall cross the bridge when I get there for now the most important thing is to obtain, complete, and submit the NDA short service form’.
As we travelled through shagamu and Ore I forgot I was standing and went into hallucination and saw myself doing well at the NDA interview and eventually offered admission into the academy in Kaduna for the six month short service course …… I passed out as one of the best cadet officers and was posted to the Apapa garrison command where I further learned the military artistry.
After 3 months as a fresh army officer graduate from the NDA we were all given N800, 000 loans to settle down and get a house privately as our flats in the army barracks were under renovation. We were each given the keys to a Volkswagen Jetta car. As 2nd Lieutenant officers the army could not afford to see us disrespected in the free Molue and Danfo buses in Lagos like the ordinary Corporal or Sergeant recruits. After 2 years I became a full Lieutenant, in five years I was promoted to the rank of a captain and in just 7 years an army Major rank was fastened to my shoulder by my commanding officer and I was immediately named the new garrison commander. After putting ten meritorious serving in the Army with frequent trips to Australia, Germany, and America for military training my commanding officer put my name forward to the Chief of Army staff for promotion to the rank of a Major General and suddenly the ‘bust’ driver shouted “we go soon reach Ajaokuta, everybody make una lie down. Na dia armed robbers road block always dey, I go fire pass for high speed, if you remain standing na your own wahala be that ooh”. I was very angry that the driver did not allow me to receive the next rank which may have shot me into the political arena of the country and put my name in the history book when I suddenly realised that I was standing and a potential target for the merciless armed robbers. I looked down and between my legs were two commuters, by this time there were two layers of people already on the floor. It was either I joined to start the third layer or remain standing to face the armed robbers fire force, this time in a real life situation, perhaps the bravery might usher me fast into a career in the army.
When I got to the Army headquarters in Abuja I was able to obtain the form for free. I completed the form and returned it for submission the next day and as I walked out of the army office a corporal approached me and asked if I truly wanted to join the army as a cadet. I looked at him and thought of what would happen to me if I should give him the answer to his foolish question, I calmed down and nodded gently. He asked, “Do you know a major general or know someone who knows any military officer from the rank of a major general or equivalent?” I said no. He laughed and said “that ya form no go reach Kaduna”. Immediately I knew what he meant, he offered to help me but that I must raise N27, 000 in 48hours for his colleague who could talk to a major general that can include my name in his annual NDA quota. I did not take the bait not because I did want to but simply because I couldn’t possibly raise the money. As I walked back to where I was putting up in Abuja I ran into an old friend who advised that a stamped Royal letter from the Obaro of Kabba to Navy Admiral Ajayi who is an indigene of Kabba will get me into the academy. I still had some change left from the N760, so I took the next bus to Kabba my home town but alas the King’s guard who took my name, father’s name, and grand father’s name came back to me that the Obaro said I should just go to the Admiral and mention that I was from him. I knew that was simply a road block and I understood the message perfectly and walked away more disappointed than I was before making the request ….. and I left in shame.
Those days, most time I do not understand the word ‘No’, so I went to a lesser and third class king, Obajemu of Egbeda, Kabba who was happy to give me a scribbled royal note for the Admiral in Abuja ………………… to be continued

I don’t care what you say, I am not a Nigerian

Written By Dele Oluwole

“I wonder the way you guys think a times; having Nigerian names doesn’t make me a bit Nigerian. I have grown to know no other country but Britain”. Man is not measured by the size of the chest but by the quality that comes out of him, hence, his nationality, pride, and patriotism are dependants of his heart and not on geographical location. The Holy book says in Proverbs 4:23 “Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life”.

A friend from Northern Ireland introduced to me his girlfriend whom he had spoken highly of several times in my presence. He once told me that the lady is everything to him and that he wishes to spend the rest of his life with her. Since he’s white himself, when he told me once that her girlfriend is a Zimbabwean I immediately wanted to ask if she’s white or black but quickly cautioned myself not to give an impression, so I was eagerly waiting to meet her.

When the white Zimbabwean lady and I got talking I did not just discovered that she’s black in the inside but that she loves Zimbabwe with passion and still very much ready to migrate back to Zimbabwe as soon as the despot Robert Gabriel Mugabe is ousted. She’s an economic migrant in the UK who was forced out Zimbabwe by Mugabe’s excruciating economic policies but yet still proud to be Zimbabwean.

She was born in Zimbabwe and her use of ‘we’ when referring to Zimbabweans was to my heart delight. I looked straight into her eyes while we discussed hoping to find a bit of inconsistency. She spoke about Zimbabwe, Mugabe, and past leaders with so much authority and conviction. While the discussion lasted she repeatedly spoke of Zimbabwe as home. I have had a few black Zimbabweans as friends in the University and colleagues in places I worked in the past, but never met one that spoke with so much love, and hope for this sinking country, instead they delete Zimbabwe from their memories once they went pass the last immigration officer. The once not yet granted asylum statuses are ready to starve to death in protest against plan to move them back to Zimbabwe.


Since nationality, pride, and patriotism are dependants of a man’s heart and not on geographical location can we then compare the burning love in this white Zimbabwean to most Nigerian economic migrants that were fortunate to hold Charley’s mum property, the British passport either because they were born in the UK or because their parents migrated here some years back?

If you were not born in the UK and you carry a British passport you’ll still have wherever you were born in Nigeria clearly inscribed as your place of birth. People in this category are scrutinized more at all European borders before they enter the EU after every trip out. Even if you were born in the UK, at employment or college entrance interviews, or when you engage in discussion with the whites they’ll still ask ‘where are you from originally”? Your being Briton by mere ‘pali’ doesn’t make you white, you are still black whose descendants migrated by whatever means to the queen’s land, the earlier you are proud of your heritage the better.
British Nigerians are quick to tell you they are Britons even when they have the sergeant inscription (traditional mark) on their faces. I remember deliberately asking the Zimbabwean lady where she’s from, and without mincing word with so much pride she said ‘Zimbabwe’. For a lady whose parents were chased out of a land they have farmed for 30 years to still have such love for a country ……. its definitely a function of a heart that is the ‘wellspring of life’.

I have met British Nigerians who will give you a good fight if you dare call them Nigerians. An uncle who was on his way from Switzerland stopped over in London for 2 days while returning to Nigeria. He went out strolling in the evening and missed his way, so he went into a convenient store to get help only to run into a guy who was speaking Yoruba on the phone in a bus he took earlier. My uncle breath a sigh of relief, approached the stranger with a smile, and asked for how to find his way to Cheswick Park. The stranger did not respond so he thought he didn’t hear his first question and asked again in Yoruba, it was then the stranger now turned and replied “I don’t understand what you are saying”. My uncle now became uncomfortable and said ‘but I heard you speaking Yoruba in the bus ke’, by now the encounter was becoming edgy and the stranger who was already fuming uttered “How does speaking Yoruba makes me a Yoruba or Nigerian? Sorry I am neither Yoruba nor a Nigerian”. The Zimbabwean asked me if I speak any of the Zimbabwean dialects, when I said ‘no’ she was disappointed and asked if I can manage to speak Swahili. She was desperate to go local with me, but unfortunately we didn’t find a levelled ground in that part of the encounter so we continued the conversation in the queen’s language. Such are the hearts, black or white that are the ‘wellspring of life’, they will always want to be proud of their roots, blend very well in a multicultural society yet still identify with their culture.
A Briton told me that when he travelled to the US for an official assignment the first thing he did after landing was to look out for a close British restaurant where he could always have his dinner.
The Indians, Thais, Pakistanis, Americans, carry their countries in their hearts every where they travel to but alas most Nigerians drop them at MM airport before boarding the Boeing 747 across the Atlantic.

The Nigerian Shame in London

Written by Dele Oluwole

I was having a nice time at work as some nice Nigerian indigenous tunes blast from my headphones. An uncle some time a go advised that I turned my eyes away from the monitor every 10 minutes to avoid an eye defect, I can not remember the medical name now but the symptom is blood clot in the eyes. So I turned my eyes away for another 5 seconds, looked around as usual and suddenly caught the eyes of a colleague who was directly opposite my desk. He smiled and I smiled back, he stood up, walked up to my desk, and showed to me his mobile phone that had a miscall from Nigeria +234805 …… as he smiled even before uttering a word my heart skipped hoping to hear from him that a Nigerian wanted to or had already scammed him. My fear is only natural having read and watched so much discouraging and derogatory bulletins about Nigerians in London recently.

On Monday this week during lunch I went across my office to order a pack of sandwich, as it was being prepared my eyes caught a caption on a daily newspaper that was on the table. I then sat down to flip through only to discover that a Nigerian is being tried in London for yet another scam that was up to the tune of £800,000. His name is ‘Ade’-something and in his late 40s. Among the many cars he had was Bentley, travelled to Nigerian severally with suitcases full of pound sterling, has lots of property and investment in Lagos and Abuja. He has been swindling people of their money in the group of a Jamaican woman and a British man for over 6 years. The judge who is yet to pronounce his judgement said the Nigerian will definitely be jailed and deported afterwards. We have heard of those who were jailed and deported only to return under different identities, so deportation is not a panacea.

In 2004, A Nigerian friend just came in from Denmark and walked into one of the Halifax bank branches in London to open an account. He was being pleasantly attended to by a customer service advisor who took his details and passed him over to the head office to complete the process over the phone. According to my friend the person at the other end was also polite as he took some more details and finally asked for his nationality, proudly he said ‘Nigerian’ immediately he was told to give the receiver to the Advisor who started the account opening process. The customer service advisor now said ‘sorry sir we can not open an account for you’. My friend demanded to know why and why the person he spoke with over the phone suddenly became cold when he disclosed his Nationality. I am not sure how reliable this is but I learnt that this bank has stopped opening bank account for Nigerians carrying the National passport.

The bad eggs among us have a way of affecting the lives of the innocents. My people will say ‘the trouble being brewed by a one ‘legged’ man will be shouldered by his two ‘legged’ brother’. I couldn’t open an account with Barclays bank in 2003 because the personal banker manhandled my passport while scrutinising it for likely defect; I got angry, collected it, and walked out of the branch. ‘Monkey no fine but him mama like am’. After all if the passport becomes roughened as he scrutinised it my immigration officer brothers for MM airport go ask for ‘entitlement’ before them allow me enter my country. ‘Bi ebiti opeku asi fi eyin fun eleyin’ if the trap refuses to catch a game it should be courageous enough to return the palm kernel bait to the owner.
Some years back we were known for football entertainment and gradually toiling the path of Brazil but today one thing synonymous to that name Nigeria is scam. Just type in ‘Scam’ and ‘Nigeria’ into Youtube search you will be amazed with what will come up.

The British postal authority, Royal Mail stopped employing Nigerians because of the BBC documentary in 2006. I watched the documentary in disbelieve as a Nigerian who was working for Royal mail and who is also from the eastern part of Nigeria opened his cavity wide and narrated to a hidden camera how Nigerian Royal mail workers sell credit cards. ‘Ole lo le to ese ole lori apata’, it takes a thief to trace another thief’s foot prints on the mountain. How did he know that Nigerians working at Royal mail sell details’ of credit cards in transit to syndicates outside? The BBC guys did a good job though as they trailed a syndicate, a Nigerian from the western Nigeria who did not realise he was been secretly filmed boasted about how he travels to America to spend stolen credit card, he even showed the undercover journalist who is also a Nigerian his Mercedes Benz CLK and house. ‘Omo ino lan ron sino’ The best intermediary to a Dragon is its child.

My Jamaican mechanic once told me that Nigerians have taken over the lead of scam from Jamaicans in London. He said gone are those days when Jamaicans were dreaded because they could swindle you of your hard earned money. The premise of his argument is the BBC news on Nigerians caught by British police helicopter unit who were dismantling Mercedes Benz for shipping to Lagos. What Nigerians are known for is fast spreading to other strata of the British society; a Zimbabwean family once refused to attend a church in the UK because the pastor is a Nigerian. I try as much as possible not to travel on the London public buses because of the way my brothers and sisters constitute nuisances either when speaking to each other or when on their mobile phones.

Back to my colleague at work o jare, this time it’s not what I was thinking. The Nigerian number flashed him several times; he wanted to know who it was and where the call was coming from. So he searched for the country codes thorough Google and discovered it’s a Nigerian number, which was why he laughed and came across to me for reconfirmation.
I breathe sigh of relief, oh God …. not again, not in my office, and not my source of Gari.

Go for a medical check up if you don’t snore

Written by Dele Oluwole




Even though my non-capital intensive research is yet non conclusive, I am in no doubt that the UNO or the medical council of any country will approve it as I have not spent a penny in this personal study compared to the British National Hospital Service (NHS) that has spent millions of pounds sterling researching into how to combat snoring, they even have specialist ‘snoring’ hospital.
I started my research into the benefit(s) of snoring in 1997 and the interest began when on a particular night during a group reading session while preparing for a semester examination with a new female acquaintance. We where in a lecture hall with some other students, at about 2am my body did not just fail and I dozed off but treated my female friend and fellow students in the lecture hall to some melodious snoring tunes that could be likened to the sound of the crane that demolished the Kubwa settlement in Abuja last year. The other students in the hall became uncomfortable and as they gestured and laughed my female friend had to stylishly and ‘technically’ wake me up. I became apprehensive not because the hall was filled with so many students but because my application for a date with my female friend was still pending and I felt the ‘bulldozer’ snoring sound I made may negate the success of the application. If you read on you will know if the application was successful.
What qualifies me as a researcher in ‘snoring’ despite having a master’s degree in computing? According to my dictionary, a researcher is a scholar who can, or will in time through learning and experience, demonstrate:
specialized knowledge or expertise, conceptual and intellectual capacities such as the ability to identify and frame key problems, to think critically and analytically, and to generate and communicate interesting and original insights.
· research skills such as the ability to use sources effectively, to gather and organize information, to analyze text, data and theory.
· personal attributes such as the ambition and ability to work to high standards, to take initiative and responsibility, to be well organized in one's procedures and balanced in one's judgements, to collaborate well with others where appropriate, and to take on board and incorporate constructive criticism.[1]
I have all the above so what else?
What qualifies my theory and makes me a notable theorist of the likes of Albert Bandura, Erving Goffman, and Lawrence Kohlberg even though I was born a year after Abraham Maslow’s death? My dictionary says theory is a framework for assumption-based logical reasoning.

Notable theorists of adult Learning and human resource development are Abraham Maslow, Albert Bandura, Donald A. Schon, Donald Kirkpatrick, Eduard C. Lindeman, Edward Lee Thorndike. I have been made to understand that some of them do not even have a master’s degree, so with due respect what makes their theories better than mine other than the fact that they popularise theirs some centuries ago?

Let me run you through the profiles of just three of the notable theorists; Abraham Maslow’s contributions include the Hierarchy of Needs. He is also considered the founder of Humanistic Psychology. Abraham was born on April 1, 1908. He earned a B.A. in Psychology in 1930 from City College of New York. He earned a M.A. in 1931 from Cornell University In addition, a Ph.D. in 1934 from the University of Wisconsin.

Albert Bandura was born December 4, 1925, in the small town of Mundare in northern Alberta, Canada. He received his bachelor’s degree in Psychology from the University of British Columbia in 1949. He went on to the University of Iowa, where he received his Ph.D. in 1952

Edward Lee Thorndike, was born in Williamsburg, Aug. 31, 1874, he was a major figure in several fields of psychology: learning theory, applied psychology, and mental measurement. [2] But he does not have a master’s degree.

Will the heavens fall if we include Dele Oluwole in the list of the notable theorists the world has ever known thus; “Dele Oluwole was born August --, 19--, in the small and beautiful town of Mushin in northern Mushin Olosha LGA of Lagos. He received his bachelor’s degree in Business Management from the famous University of Staffordshire England in 200-. He made the U-turn of a life time when he bagged an MSc in computing from Staffordshire University England, but he’s still working on his PhD in human anatomy and snoring therapy”. Will anybody question the audacity behind this encomium? After all charity they say begins at home, even though prophet has no honour except among his own kindred. Whether you like it or not I am a researcher plenipotentiary ……… ‘omo wa ni eje ose’.


My research into snoring is interesting because I have been able to collate primary and secondary data on instances where spouses slept in separate rooms in the house as a result of snoring just to avoid the other. My best friend’s wife vacated their room for the guest room the third day into their married life only for the husband to discover a month later that she snores like a rickety ‘Molue’ approaching the busy ‘eko idumota’ bus terminus. And to put salt on injury my friend made the discovery when they visited me and stayed in the guest room.

Even though no lecturer has agreed to supervise my research I have also discovered in the course of mapping the two snoring hypotheses that many couples are not happy sharing a bed because either spouse snore, even though investigation empirically shows that both of them snore as the research have investigated and postulated that only those who are unhealthily thin and lazy don’t snore.

My year 1997 female friend did not just accept the date that fateful day, we are still together, as my research continued I also discovered that she also like every other normal healthy human being, beautifully and wonderfully created by God does not just snore but treats me to some cat like sounds most night after a busy day at work or cooking at home, although she claimed she snore only when lying on her back but lets leave that to this research conclusion and recommendation that is expected in a few years time.
If you love your partner do not allow snoring to put you asunder and if you will ever want to call it quit because he or she snores, please put a tape recorder by your bed side to record if you snore or not or better still wait for the conclusion/recommendation of this humble and intelligent Nigerian researcher.






References:
1. Port Postgraduate on line Research Training; http://port.igrs.sas.ac.uk/researcher.htm

2. Adult Learning & Human Resources Development Program, (1998-1999, 2000-2002) Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University: http://www.nvc.vt.edu/alhrd/Theorists/theo~com.htm

Why the short and ugly are married I

Written by Dele Oluwole

This may be thinking aloud, I can not stop trying to reason why the Nigerian ‘Bobo’ end up settling for a girl he ordinarily would not go near at his ‘hay’ days when he was a risk taker, but now want to spend the rest of his life with seeing he has now become a risk averter.

When I look around I see nothing but guys who have settled for girls that they have better looks than, especially my ‘loaded’ friends. Each time I was going to be introduced to my friends’ spouses for the first time I was expecting to meet women of sophistication, elegance, and beauty, but instead at the end of the day the best among them was just okay. Whereas, these are guys that when they were in their ‘hay’ days, what I would call their ‘Shongo ode’ I mean when they painted Akoka and Yabatech red will not even dare to talk to such girls.

The decision to choose a life partner is not for the public to debate on which is why I couldn’t summon courage to ask my friends …… ‘but Bros this is the worst of all the girls I have seen you with’. I remember an experience some seven years ago when some of my friends and I told one of us a Banker that his girl friend then who is now his wife was ugly. He didn’t flair up at us because we were very good friends that can say anything to one another, but calmly he said ‘Dele she’s my choice’, the countenance on his face was that of please stop right there and don’t take this any further. Trust me, I persisted and he simply told me and boasting that in ten years time we should come back to re-evaluate our careers, marriage, and life in general to know who is happiest amongst us all, he further said ‘look I am marrying her for her inner beauty, the happiness and joy she will bring to my life will reflect in my career ……. You wait and see’.
My friend today is not just happily married with two sons but doling well in his career as he is presently a Branch manager of one of the top Banks in Nigeria. His wife has a farm that is doing well too.
Most Nigerian young men are looking beyond the ordinary; they grow to mature with time, to know that not all that glitter is gold. Between the ages of 20 and 28 they are risk takers that will go after the Ginevieves, Daregos, Omotolas, Tokunbos and Biancas. The risk taking is worth it after all as the tall and beautiful girls put them through experiences that become invaluable to them later in life.
I have a six footer friend; we went through the NYSC together somewhere in Northern Nigeria. He did not just paint the ‘Sharia’ city red but was going out with the most beautiful Fulani girl in the petroleum Depot where we served. Every skirt chaser in the depot had his eyes on her; even the depot chief made advances through unsolicited petrol drums and cash yet the girl wanted the young, penniless, and hungry Coper. I remember an instance where one of the lady’s numerous admirers or chasers offered to give her a lift to work, the lady did not just accept the lift but requested that her Coper boy friend come on board. Guess what? They both sat at the back while they were chauffeur driven by the ‘toaster’.
The interesting part of this story is that my then Coper friend despite working in an oil company with plenty ‘ego’ eventually got married to a girl the entire family denounced because of her looks but they are happily married with a kid anyway .

These tall and beautiful girls can not cook because they spent more time before their mirrors than in their mother’s kitchen. Don’t joke with Nigerian man and food. They can not stand hard times because they never had such experience. How can they stand hard times when they are chauffeur driven to school in their fathers’ car, when paid washmen and cooks are at their beck and call?
The Nigerian man aside listening to his Mother’s golden advice when its time to choose a life partner wants a happy home, wants to be in control, wants to be respected, and wants a woman that the entire members of the extended family can relate with. He doesn’t want the woman that will use his monthly package to shop for the likes of lipsticks, G strings, and high heel shoes. He of course doesn’t want to come back home to prepare his own supper. He wants a woman that will instil some level of moral values in his children, how can a woman who has never ironed her father’s shirt or help her Mum in the kitchen instil moral values or bring up her children properly or even iron her husband shirt?
If you meet a depressed man find out if he’s happily married, a depressed man’s productivity at work will be so low that it may reduce the company’s turnover and eventually affect the country’s GDP.

The short and ugly is never a risk taker, she will never gamble with her chances of getting hooked to Mr right as she does not get carried away with the euphoria of beauty like her tall counterpart ‘dongo si lewo or Omo ga’. Any attempt to carry herself unnecessarily too high means she is in her own world. As a teenager she already had her cross staring her in the eyes and carried it with all pleasure. She works hard to become an achiever, little wonder she passes the O’ level and JAMB at a sitting as those dangerous boys neither distract nor have interest in her. She will do well in the University and come out with first class or 2:1 because the campus landlords i.e. the cultists don’t take her precious studying time as they will not want to be associated with her type anyway. She will get the best of jobs because she worked hard to earn her degree grade as she neither bribed her way through nor offered herself on ‘a platter of gold’ to the hyena lecturers. The society sees her as being responsible because she doesn’t wear the offensive tops, the nuclear mini skirts or the ‘help me remove’ tights that I call big baby ‘pampas’.
Finally, she will be attracted to the Nigerian man who has sampled an entire city of tall and beautiful girls because of her high moral values, sensibility, and intelligence. She will be happily married and raise God fearing children ….. and who knows if her husband’s gene is very strong she may end up having kids that will grow up to become tall and beautiful.

At the end of the day who looses? The tall and beautiful who may only get married at 37 or as second wife to the pot-belly Alhaji who junkets around the whole world leaving her at the mercy of her driver or Tailor (‘Obioma’) next door. She can only get married to the man of her dream if only she doesn’t allow her God given beauty to take greater part of her, but will she? As everyone tells her that she is the most beautiful girl in the world, and that she has the nicest legs, dreamy eyes and alabaster skin.
You can not eat your cake and have it. It is either you scarify beauty for good manners or level headedness for an Ahlaji. The choice is yours, but I am lucky to have beauty, level headedness, and brain in my wife.

‘Labalaba’ and the Suya’s fire: why the short and ugly are married – Part II

Written by Dele Oluwole

I am beginning to think that the royal families are in a better world than the rest of us, or how else can one describe the late Princess Diana’s response to a TV interviewer when asked to comment on the imbroglio caused by (ask for my opinion of the Prince when I return to 9NJA) Prince Charles during the last lap of their separation. She was so polished and cultured that she chose to use a garnished phrase that “the marriage was a bit over crowded” in sharp contrast to what women in our world would use. The women in our world especially European women would prefer phrases like “my husband is cheating on me, my man is unfaithful, or my husband is seeing another woman”. And a typical Nigerian woman in Victoria Island or Ikoyi would most likely say “the foolish Man left me for a short and ugly woman”. Please ask why her height and beauty did not keep the man at home. Are you wondering how an Ajegunle or Mushin woman would answer? That’s for another day.

For every relationship or marriage there is always the third man or third party, I mean crowded by the third man ….. I am not speaking French here and neither am I referring to God, ‘Otio o’ please leave God out of this; He is the umpire that we will all give the account of our stewardship to.
Perception defers and whatever you choose to call the third person in your relationship is immaterial here.
Here is a play titled ‘Labalaba and the Suya’s fire’ (Professor Wole Soyinka can not do better) starring the tall and beautiful as desperate woman and Narrator as The third man. Please enjoy …….

Man – I love you
The Third man – you and I know what you want from her
Desperate woman – are you sure?
The Third man – She has been fasting and praying for this time, now she wants to know when you‘ll come to visit her parents

Man – ok, just tell me how you want me to show it
The Third man – Is he aware of the fact that you are not just rude and impolite but egocentric?
Desperate woman - The feeling I have for you is so overwhelming that I can not describe it
The Third man – It’s a lie, your feelings are 110% under your control you are even more intelligent ….. you have hidden agenda, didn’t short and struggling Chukwudi on your street propose to you three months a go?

Desperate woman - Honestly I don’t know why I love you so much
The Third man – No man/woman will be attracted to the other for no reason. Even though you are lucky to have a man showing interest in you at 38, despite telling him you are just 23 (na pancake sorry powder dey hide your wrinkles). It’s obvious that you can not afford to loose this golden opportunity. Isn’t that enough reason to love him?

Man – I am the only son of my mother, she prays that I marry a homely and God fearing woman
The Third man – ‘Mugun’ open your eyes to see that she is haltering you to the altar with her unusual ‘born again’ appearance. You are not just about to mortgage your future and happiness …… she will soon becomes the husband in the house to haul you around like a horse.

Desperate woman - If I am asked to choose 100 times I will pick you a again
The Third man – if given second opportunity to choose, you are gone. She is just managing you because you are her last hope or what I will call last bus stop since loaded Jude and handsome Kelvin ditched her

The third man is the truth, the reality, and the sense of reasoning in every relationship. The ‘olorunshogos’ that have ‘Aristos’ despite being already committed to serious relationships will go to any length to cover their filthy pasts.
The other day a lecturer friend who lectures in one of the higher institutions in Lagos ran into a couple in London, the lady was his old student and coincidentally the man also is a friend he lost contact with some 15 years a go. The lady knowing the escapades she was known for on campus and more especially that my friend is aware of her serious commitment to his neighbour Obiora in Festac town became apprehensive and restless. She will not allow the two old friends to discuss as she repeatedly interrupted. Desperate to abruptly end their conversation she dialled a number on her mobile phone, gave the phone to her husband, managed to drag him to the car and waved my friend good bye. She is intelligent isn’t it? What does she think my friend will gain from exhuming her garbage past that may ruin the man made fire brigade marriage?

The short and ugly does not have the luxury of gimmicks as she has never been involved in double dates, how could she have had such dangerous experience when there was no competition from boys to date her. She dreams and waits patiently for when the lucky man will come her way. She is not expecting men but a man as the very first to come knocking will not just carry the day but the honey pot as well, hence she will not be on the market shelve till dusk . But the spoilt, tall, and beautiful ‘dongo’ or Darego will stay till dawn to shop and shop for the best bargain at the high street market, so carried away with the euphoria of shopping that she doesn’t realise how late it is and of course when the dawn comes it comes unannounced like the African Mascara abi na ‘Agbepo’ at night only then will she realise that the Mr. right was among the ones she shopped and dropped in the day. Why did she drop the Mr. Right? When shopping you walk round the market for the best bargain, she also hope to enjoy herself, enjoy the shopping, and pick the best bargain only to realise later that the available is now the desirable for her. She has her own legal tender as well just as you and I pay for our shopping with hard earned Dollar abi na queen’s pound sterling, just that hers own legal tender is not man made.

The short and ugly is usually calm, obedient and does not believe in women liberation as her bible teaches her to submit to her husband because he is the head of the home. Unlike her counterpart she wants to contribute all her penny to the running of the home. The husband does not loose her sleep whenever he travels out of town, he believes in her to instil discipline in the children and to bring them up in the ways of the Lord so that they can become successful in life. Is it possible for a woman who wears ‘spagetti’ and micro mini to instil the sense of decency like moderate dressing in her teenage daughter?

The other day I met a friend’s elder sister who was happily treating herself to some cans of Heineken and whose husband later joined to enjoy in the binge. They have three teenage girls at home; I need no one to tell me the kind of legacy they are going to hand over to them because even though she was in her 50s I could still see her fading beauty, I was seeing the picture of a one time Darego who is now grandma Darego. There is no denying the fact that there are some tall and beautiful girls that are well mannered and a few ill mannered short and ugly ones. We all know the proportion don’t we?

If a man will allow the sense of reasoning to prevail only then will he realise that when a tall and beautiful woman says she loves him he’ll look around and guard his loins.
- That when she hurries him up for marriage he should confirm her true age from her parents
- That when she spends good money on him it’s her way of investing for ‘calculated’ dividends
- That when she calls the mother-in-law to be regularly she is ticking the requirement list to get the poor woman’s approval
- That he should watch out for cookery book whenever she cooks for him as the kitchen is waiting to be taken over by either the house girl or the man himself after ‘I do’
- If she keeps quiet during quarrels she is only waiting for the right time to give him a run for his money
- That he will soon return triple for every wrist watch, perfume, and shirt she bought for him after the D- day

During horrible courtship the difference between a wise man and the other is that the wise needs just green light to call it quit, while the other waits for ‘Molue’ light.