Thursday, 22 June 2017

Innocence lost!

The end of the matter,
Was the beginning of a flutter,
Crutched in secret,
Not too discreet,
There on a prompting,
A decision found wanting,
To stick it in,
For her was a win,
He did not know,
What was on show,
At an age twice of him,
A tryst on the whim,
In a backroom then at home,
With little scope to roam,
When the deed was done,
His innocence quickly gone,
To lure a boy of seven,
Is to close the door to heaven,
The tales still gets told,
For what happened can never go cold,
Of taboos tasted raw,
No distinction to draw,
Therein is a cause,
To save other from that curse,
His purity thus polluted,
His young soul fully looted.

Tuesday, 20 June 2017

Appearing for the defendant, Dammy Krane - A sketch

The boy living large
Until he made the headlines a few weeks ago, I had no idea who Dammy Krane was and I have not yet ventured a listening to his brand of entertainment. What I have been able to glean about him is, he is a somewhat successful musician.
Dammy Krane, born Oyindamola Johnson Emmanuel is 25 and he apparently got a record deal at 20 but is not the reason for my blog today.
On the 2nd of June 2017, Dammy Krane was arrested in Miami, Florida for having booked private jets with stolen credit cards, the company that was about to be defrauded then alerted the law and when they were about to board the flight of luxury, he was nabbed along with a Chukwuebuka Ilochonwu who apparently has an existing rap sheet of fraudulent activity.
He’s on the money
Now, Dammy Krane has protested his innocence and in keeping an open mind, I probably should hear him out. He released a YouTube video apologising for being caught up in this mess and thanked all who have supported him through this rotten ordeal.
Now, Opa-Locka to the Miami International Airport (MIA) is just a 15-minute Uber ride costing about $20 and from MIA to Washington DC flying American Airlines one-way and non-stop is 2:37 hours at a cost of $82. Dammy Krane’s preferred mode of travel would have set him back $10,943, if he had the money in the bank, I cannot begrudge how he spends his hard-earned money.
We need to develop an urgency of the mentality to tailor our need to show-off to the honestly acquired resources we have to dispose of, you do not have to apologise for being a hedonist given to crude and ostentatious displays of wealth in the vulgar assertion of your manhood. Everyman has a right to be highly fed and lowly taught.
The trouble I saw
However, I know how on my decision to resettle in the UK in 1990, Danny Krane wasn’t even born then. Some Nigerians here before me had crashed the reserve of trust in Nigerians that you had to try twice as hard to be accepted as honest, truthful, qualified and able, all because of credit card fraud activities by people that included one of my close friends from secondary school.
He went to prison for it and when he qualified as a lawyer, that blot on his record meant he could never practice law in the UK. He eventually had to return to Nigeria waving as it were, a clean slate and bill of honesty and integrity.
You’re in deep shit, boy
However, Dammy Krane seems to have some explaining to do, because news reaching us suggests seven stolen credit cards were found in his pants (trouser) pockets, or more directly his wallet. Whilst this presents some difficulty, I offer myself in service for the defence with a number of questions I believe if answered accordingly might well exonerate Dammy Krane from this sordid affair. [Miami New Times]
I would think using the airport baggage check-in protocols, Dammy Krane only has to affirm, deny or plead ignorance to create enough reasonable doubt in the minds of the jury that he is being unjustly persecuted and prosecuted.
In court
Me: If it may please your lordship, I am appearing for the defendant who is in the dock and I am here to prove that he had nothing to do with this criminal activity.
Me: [Looking towards Dammy Krane] Mr. Dammy Krane, can I call you Dammy?
Dammy Krane (DK): That is fine by me.
Me: Thank you. Now, tell the court, does the wallet belong to you?
DK: I think so, it looks like one I bought for $15,000 a few months ago.
[The court gasps, but I move on swiftly]
Me: Do you recognise any of the contents of the wallet?
DK: The dollar bills and the platinum credit cards are mine, those other ones with strange names I have no idea of.
Me: One would assume you would know all the contents of your wallet, but I will give you the benefit of the doubt and I hope the jury would too. Did you at any time leave your wallet unattended where it could have been interfered with?
DK: That is quite possible, my agent usually does all my business transactions and bookings, however, since I was going up to Washington D.C. for a few days, I picked it up from the ivory table in my penthouse suite on the morning of our travel none the wiser about it.
Me: Did you at any time put any of the said stolen credit cards in your wallet, maybe not the seven, but at least one of them?
DK: I do not recall doing any such thing.
Me: Are you saying you did not notice your wallet was a bit weightier than before?
DK: Music is my passion, I don’t do much on the money side of things, that is what I have an agent for.
Me: So, tell the court who booked the Tap-Jets flight to Washington D.C. from Opa-Locka.
DK: I think my agent did, I am not sure if he asked for my wallet, but when I was leaving my penthouse suite, I was under the impression that everything was sorted.
Me: I recall Tap-Jets did ask that you present an alternative payment option because they had issues with your card. What happened there?
DK: I simply thought they had misheard the credit card details so I just read out the details of another card and they did not say anything to me that the transaction did not go through.
Me: Now, that is interesting, you mean they accepted your booking, sent you a confirmation and then ensnared you with a police bust at the airport?
DK: Yes, that is the case, I am still quivering at their underhand tactics, all they should done was tell me they had issues with my payment and I would have made good the arrangement. I am not that kind of person, I was brought up in a God-fearing home where my parents imbibed in me the dint of hard work, honesty, integrity, and responsibility. I would never have been involved in this racket, I am a successful musician with a thriving career.
Me: Indeed, I see that, it is so unfortunate that you have been a victim of entrapment by unscrupulous businesses as Tap-Jets. That will be all for now.
DK: Thank you.
Judge: The defendant may step down and the court is adjourned until 9:00 AM tomorrow morning.
In view of my questions, how would there not be some reasonable doubt as to Dammy Krane’s culpability in this criminal enterprise?.
It would take a Houdini of an attorney acting out a Wallender tight-rope walk over the Niagara Falls in a Force 10 gale to get Dammy Krane off the indictments against him.
Seriously, who does Dammy Krane think he is fooling?
The plot thickens …

Dreamscape: To Japan on a bicycle

Seeing my guests off
We had a wonderful evening together, friends and strangers about to be friends, and then it was time to go home. They had come a long way and we set off to the station.
There were two bicycles, that is what they apparently rode on to visit as we made for the station. It was late, we had to be quick. On getting to the station, I was in charge of one of the bicycles and we had difficulty going through the gates or finding the right platform.
In the process, we lost sight of each other and I was left with one of the strangers, in the confusion, as we ran up and down the escalators, one of us walked the way down an escalator as it was rolling up, I could not do that with a bicycle. We finally found our platform, two trains leaving at the same time, for Japan.
A toilet wonder to behold
I got on the train and found a seat as the stranger did beside me, only to be disturbed by a hawker who through the whole journey was selling snake-oil remedies using the context of Japanese fables of old, nothing that I heard was worth parting with my hard-earned cash for.
Meanwhile, the technology on the train could not be ignored, I could push a button, very much like the stopping bell of a bus, to initiate a bowel evacuation by wireless means, fascinating it was, that no one could tell who was filling the toilet with waste, it could really have been anyone else.
Time and station stops late into the night, we got to last stop and alighted. Then it seemed our none of our other company made any of the trains, they were stuck somewhere incomprehensible as we spoke on the phone.
A cab to nowhere sensible
I thought I could ride the bicycle back home when I realised I had left it on the train, the train that already left the station taking the staff with it. The other trains were pulling out that I just could not summon the courage to tell my friend that I had lost her bicycle.
The matter of getting home from Japan became a pressing issue, I had to get a taxi, the first shop had unhelpful people who pretended to offered a service of indifference and mockery, they did not care. When I found the cab office, the faces all looked familiar but I was not sure, the drivers unperturbed in every state of lackadaisical abandon until the controller was pointed out to me.
He asked where I was going, my home was a place I had not been in 27 years, the cost I could not meet because I did not have enough money and as I was thinking of booking a hotel room for the night, I did not have to do any of that, I was saved the ordeal.
REM - Rapid Eye Madness
For between Edinburgh where I am, the London Underground where we boarded trains for Japan, probably a suburb called Japan-town very much like Chinatown, a cab office that seemed to have Nigerian drivers to wanting a ride to Isolo in Lagos, Nigeria, I was caught in the landscape of vivid dreams, where distances are shortened and problems can be quite insurmountable.
I had jolted out of my sleep as the background activity coming from my computer playing Channel 4 on BBC was broadcasting the Japan season ended. Phew!

Monday, 19 June 2017

Edinburgh of the dead

And so, I strayed,
To places that made me afraid,
A city of many hills,
That surely gave me the chills,
It has so many ghosts,
Beware they might be your hosts.
By Regent's Park, I walked,
In the wariness of the stalked,
To wit, in the rubble, I saw,
A hand outstretched live and raw,
Before fear gripped me so to run,
My senses deigned it belonged to someone.
In this stroll, I wrote and thought,
What a place to be highly wrought,
Stones and memorials mark the places,
Of souls and works of long gone faces,
A city strewn with graves,
Of the dead, we became as slaves.

Adolescence: Revisiting the RSS Class of 1981

Calling from the deep
This morning as I got to work, my phone rang and at the other end of the line was a voice I could not make out. A name and my memory went into a tailspin, I was trying to remember a quinquennial period of my life that ended just a few days over 36 years ago and my recall was not recalling much.
Apparently, one of the most enterprising of my secondary schoolmates, and I mean that in every way, he drove his own vehicle to school, but was not given a parking space within the school walls. He had set up a WhatsApp group and invited the class of 1981 to join. I was added to the group and very few could remember who I was.
Now, that I think of it, apart from my sadness at the way the Parents and Teachers Association of my secondary school treated my class in the summer of 1980, I have hardly written about my secondary school life. Yet, it is not without event and adventure.
More fiends than friends
One other thing is I have not necessarily kept contact with the closest friends I made in secondary school, from the scoundrel to the evasive, the fleeting contacts we made afterward only showed how divergent our lives had become. The common strain that brought us together was kids born abroad and with another bedwetters, but that did not beyond school materialise into friendships.
It is strange that in a conversation with my dad some time ago, he noted that I had not cultivated friendships with my secondary school mates. Then I think of friendships I have tried to rekindle from my primary school days and other friendships that have lasted a lifetime from my post-secondary school days.
There are issues that seem to set my secondary school relationships apart and I do believe the time has come to begin to document those parts of my history. Then again, I have acquaintances I made in secondary school who have indeed become friends, not only that, I have made friends with their relations too, who in some cases have married into relations of mine.
My large family of One
However, this collision of the shadows of the past with the intricate and delicate balance of my present brings some interesting areas of complex and somewhat strained conversation. We all make assumptions about the lives of others following a particular trajectory when in reality, that is rarely the case.
I have to tackle the very extant and pertinent question, “How are you and your family?”. Indeed, I have woken up in a jolt from the nightmare of dreaming I had a wife and two children. The thoughts even in the dreams questioning how all this happened to me without my involvement.
I was once integrated with a nuclear family until I was 10 before I was sent to boarding school, after that, the family was a nebulous mix of close and distant relations, many of whom I now hardly know, some have already passed on and others I relate to on Facebook. I have three half-brothers I have never met, one of whom is already a father.
In my bowels, I have reached the age of grandfatherhood, I know this because one of my very close friends who is much younger than I am has been a grandfather for at least 5 years. Yet, I cannot say I do not have a family, rather, I do have a family, it is a large family of one. I never married, I have never had kids. To enter into much more detail about that would challenge the seemingly conservative disposition of some of the entrants into the WhatsApp group.
Conserve on the detail
Suffused with religious supplication and the grandiosity of prayerful incantations, the more liberal matters of a life less ordinary may not be understood, neither would I want to impose any of my worldviews into the Remo Secondary School (RSS) Class of 1981.
My family is well, I am glad to reacquaint myself with you all, of all I can remember, we at least liked each other and there was rarely if ever, any hate or animosity between us. I look forward to recalling the wonderful memories of my early teenage years. I finished at 15, and I guess most if all are now over 50.
For God and Fatherland was the motto of the school, I guess, I am not doing much for either today, on reflection, there is much to be said and much more to be forgiven.