Paying respects to a colleague

Making the Journey

Yesterday was devoted to one main activity: bidding a dear and well-liked former colleague a befitting farewell. As the situation was, the only thing to do was to pay our respects and honour him.

His wife had advised in an email response to my indicating an intention to attend the obsequies that the best station to alight from was Poulton-le-Fylde, as it was the closest to Carleton Crematorium.

Leaving home early, I initially thought of going to Blackpool and then, closer to the time, making my way to Poulton-le-Fylde. However, after exchanges with another colleague who was changing trains at Preston (Lancs), I alighted at Preston and ended up at Brucciani’s Café, where the serving of Eggs Benedict left much to be desired.

Gathering Together

The rendezvous at the station later on saw the meeting of five more colleagues. We set off to a nearby pub, some steeling themselves for the occasion with a tipple.

Another colleague joined us there, and he drove us to the crematorium. As we got out of the car, the funeral cortège was coming up behind us.

A Celebration of Life

The gathering was a humanist celebration. The venue was filled such that there was standing room only; I took to leaning on the wall for support.

Such fantastic stories were told of him, including a very moving tribute from his wife. Many women cried, and even some men cried like boys. He was held in such great affection and deeply loved. A sombre, yet celebratory farewell it was.

The Reception Wake

The reception after the funeral, termed a wake, took place at Carleton Bowling Club. I did note, though, that we had barely exited the chapel when the next hearse had arrived, and there was going to be a last one after that, each session given 45 minutes. A commodification of death, in no uncertain terms.

We got to talk to friends, relations, his wife, and his mother, all appreciative of us making time to attend this farewell.

The Journey Home

Three of us left after dark to catch the trains, a 19-minute walk from the reception. We arrived just in time to board a train to Preston.

I changed at Preston for a train to Manchester, and it was on that train that a conductor not only checked my ticket but also asked for my railcard. He then said, "However you got that railcard, what's your secret?" Not the challenge I expected, but I was also being paid a compliment. It took a full month to be officially recognised as a senior citizen through my Senior Railcard.

An Unexpected Conversation

Then, guess what? The young chap sat beside me, fascinated by the chatter between the conductor and me, struck up a conversation. He was just about to commence his A Levels, attending a boarding school in Cumbria.

His intended career path was history, and I shared with him what I did. He had been in Cape Town last year with his school's rugby team, and he spoke of South Africa in such glowing terms.

What did we not cover before I disembarked at Manchester Oxford Road Station? Chance encounters making a journey and a day end on a jolly note.

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Seven Years of Hope, Faith, and Love

Finding My Own Path

Unconventional would probably define much of what can be said about my perspective on life and living, not out of trying to be different or rebellious, but seeking out what gives me purpose, joy, and fun.

Nothing in my work life resembles what others before me have experienced. I chose a path driven by curiosity, exploring what interests me, and finding opportunities where I was recognised for my abilities and how I might change things. It has been turbulent, successful, and rewarding.

The Pursuit of Happiness

Yet, it is in the pursuit of happiness that I might have been the most misunderstood. It is as though living your own life becomes a challenge to others, through no fault of your own, viewed from cultural or societal perspectives.

However, I do not want to make this a weighty piece of psychological reasoning, as it is a day of celebration. Reflecting on how finding someone special can change your world, that is an undeniable fact.

Seven Years Ago

Seven years ago, I met someone whom I would not have initially approached. They came to say hello, and we started a conversation. As we sat at the bar talking, the world faded away; an undeniable connection between us was established.

We met again for lunch before parting ways, one thinking it was a fleeting holiday encounter, and the other wondering what might develop. I saw a future after nearly a decade of silent grief at the death of someone I loved, but I was too timid to pursue that relationship boldly. In my youth, I saw obstacles, barriers, hurdles, and excuses; we all suffered for it.

A Leap of Faith

When this unexpected turn came, as I was not even actively seeking it, it felt different. It was new. I didn't hesitate; I seized the moment. A long-distance relationship, nurtured against all odds, fulfilling in countless ways, grounded in hopes fuelled by a dreamlike imagination that only living can make real.

Every moment is lived and cherished in the realisation that I am truly, madly, deeply, and wonderfully loved. We have laughed, cried, fought, and made peace; struggled and triumphed, but most importantly, we discovered the power of companionship, trust, love, joy, and the enduring strength of desire in making things happen.

A Happy Anniversary

To all of this, I wish you, Brian, a very happy seventh anniversary. You mean the whole wide world to me. I love you dearly and thank you for your indescribably unconditional love.

Ain't no stopping the Gen X Diamond Jubilee now

Luther Vandross - Ain't No Stoppin' Us Now (Live from Royal Albert Hall)

The starting gun

2025, our year has come, we are the first of the Generation X (Gen X) cohort born from 1965 to 1980 will celebrate our 60^th birthday. What a generation we were and still are, some lost, some already grandparents, if not great-grandparents, others singularly amazing charting paths of adventure living experiences only few could imagine.

My sojourn began as 1965 was closing, earlier in the year, Sir Winston Churchill had passed on, my parents were new arrival students in the United Kingdom, and I was not expected until late March 1966, I guess I was readier to see the world before the conventional schedule.

Through my own eyes

The things I can recall from childhood are from the age of three, a birthday, days out with Joy at the arboretum, and encounters instigated by mum to attend white garment prayer meetings. Superstition has a way of sticking to you regardless of where you end up.

Of the things I do not remember but I learnt of or were told was England won the World Cup in 1966, I always entered a room and addressed everyone, “Ladies & Gentlemen”, some other funny, quirky, and interesting things, my precocity, the penchant for making conversation with strangers, our imagination knew no bounds.

The Nigeria I experienced after the Civil War was prospering, we returned to live in the north, in Kaduna & Jos, environments so familiar to my mother who had her childhood in northern Nigeria too. My schools were an international tapestry of diversity where most of the Black kids were born abroad and those of other races were born in Nigeria. We had the English accents.

Life is a story of stories

Yet, what experiences life has brought us in stories of adversity and triumph, we are at an age that when our parents breached 50, we thought they were over the hill and far away. Now that we are mostly 59 and some have already clocked 60 in the past week, we still hold on to as much of the youthfulness we can retain, and finding out that the world has changed so much as we have changed with the world.

According to the Britannica website, “Gen X is known for being resourceful, independent, and good at maintaining work-life balance. They were the first generation to grow up with personal computers and tend to have liberal views on social issues.” [Britannica: Generation X]

Let the diamond jubilees begin

Much as we would take advantage of the benefits of becoming sixty in our various domains, we are hardly the retiring type. I know, some of us want to return to university to do different courses, we have ideas we still want to implement, it is unlikely we’ll be shuffled off into irrelevance when we have such a resource of knowledge and experience to share, just as we are learning new things.

For our children and grandchildren, you will see a new kid on the block, easy to converse and have a good relationship with, willing to try things that would astound onlookers. That sense of fun, a bit of insouciance with youthful exuberance and the refusal to be too groan (grown) up to participate is something you will see a lot of.

Yes, we will be respectable and wild, snobbish and chilled, confident and ingenue, expert and tyro, growing younger as the numbers suggest we might be older. Thankfully, we are not the Baby Boomers, we are the change makers who have a purpose for living the best we can be, and we know it. You are about to see a Gen X revelation, ain’t no stopping us now.

Welcome to Gen X at 60, it is going to be a long year of diamond jubilee parties.

Obduracy gave us the Titanic and now the Titan

What a rollercoaster of emotions

As the emotions are still raw and people are still coming to terms with the tragedy of the apparent Titan submersible implosion with the loss of 5 souls, this is a difficult subject to broach at any time, yet it is one we must not ignore for the pertinent lessons to be learnt.

As the news cycle played like an orchestra of emotions from the notification of the passengers missing through postulations about the urgency to rescue because of the limited oxygen supply, we even had that glimmer of hope that there was some banging noise at 30-minute intervals, suggesting some human activity indicating distress. The truth amidst the speculations that almost drove us to distraction was a catastrophic incident had already happened and the people we were introduced to over the last 5 days had perished.

We need to know why it happened

Everything is now down to a post-mortem of what happened, and probably more will be revealed in a possible coroner’s inquest with the verdict of death by misadventure. Then, misadventure would be an understatement if all we have learnt about the Titan submersible and the operations of OceanGate in facilitating the tourist event to see the Titanic wreck is reckoned with.

I am in no way against having a sense of adventure, even of the pioneering kind where you are doing what no one else has done before. However, the adventure should never exclude proper risk assessment and more pertinently safety. It has transpired that OceanGate was many times warned about their submersible design, that it had not undergone any independent testing, then certain engineers involved were dismissed when they raised questions, that parts involved in cobbling together the submersible might suffice for a hobbyist, but never for a commercial operation where a general public is put at immeasurable risk of the possible loss of life.

The invisible fatal flaw of hubris

That this submersible was lost along with the CEO of OceanGate pitches the positive attributes and virtues of courage, confidence, adventurism, and derring-do against the greatest flaw when things go wrong, hubris. He was against the essential safety inspections and certifications that might have prevented what many experts in deep-sea submersibles now consider totally preventable.

It is quite likely that those passengers took and derived some confidence from the fact that the CEO was riding with them, it might have suggested to them that if the CEO was willing to take such as risk on such a dangerous mission, they probably would be safer than being piloted by someone with no skin in the game. James Cameron compared the obduracy of the OceanGate’s CEO, Stockton Rush to that of the RMS Titanic’s captain, Edward John Smith, they both ended up at the bottom of the sea beside each other.

Trust but verify for yourself

It has become a somewhat fatal transference of trust, the fact that you can see someone else doing something that encourages you to dabble, even if you are totally unsure you will have the same outcome. In many things, we do need a trailblazer and some sort of example if we are to dare to tread where angels fear to go. We must do that with some knowledge of what we are getting into.

For instance, in a parachute jump, there are fundamental prerequisite checks to make long before the jump, to ensure that the parachute is intact, will operate, that the reserve is there just in case the main parachute does not open, and you do not jump to a conclusion without doing the essential checks, except if on a suicide mission, and that is a different thing.

I do wonder if any of the passengers would have reconsidered this adventure on seeing some of the other interviews with the CEO about the submersible and its record, along with the testimonies that we have now heard about some who ventured and did not consider a return because of their experience and those who pulled out after assessing the lax safety procedures amongst other things.

A tragedy totally preventable

There seems to be a lot of information out there that suggests this was a very dangerous activity and though a few scraps of pulling it off suggested a greater success than the myriad of issues and problems during the event. There is no saying that if the dive exploration that set off on Sunday were successful, not only would we have heard nothing of this adventurism, but it would also have steeled others to shell out about a quarter of a million dollars to see the wreck of the Titanic at 3,810 metres (12,500 feet; 2,080 fathoms) depth below sea level, rather than watch a playback on a National Geographic channel.

There is nothing to celebrate about this tragedy, but much to learn about how we perceive risk, the essential need for safety, the consideration of better-mitigating measures in case of adverse events, the readiness to abort missions when things turn precarious, and the decision to curb our sense of adventure at certain times, just to gain a bit more perspective of the fact that our humanity, whilst amazing resourceful is neither omnipotent nor omniscient.

May their souls, therefore, rest in peace, and may we that remain be humbled to listen and learn the hard lessons taught by the experiences of others.

References

BBC: Titanic director James Cameron accuses OceanGate of cutting corners

Wikipedia: 2023 Titan submersible incident

Planning an adventure of significance

The life of desire

I have an adventure in my mind, one full of excitement as much as it has challenges, one that I cannot think of embarking on with a companion and that companion is to me the best one I have by my side to face the possibilities and the uncertainties.

We have found a meeting of minds and knitting of hearts, a common purpose that only love can give the inextinguishable light of hope and desire that grows and thrives as we walk lockstep through the clear and the thick, the high and the low, the fertile and the barren, the wet and the dry, weaving a tapestry of tales colourful, durable, and lively, priceless in value.

We chose each other, Brian and I, and though there is distance between us, we are close in thought and sight, knowing that separation is only temporary until the sudden, the planned or circumstance allows the fulfilment of what we have always wanted; to be together and never to be apart anymore. We are dreams that do come true even beyond our wildest imaginations. The chapter starts here.

I need no apology

[]

Quite for long, I need no apology,
For how you think things ought to be,
I am striving, giving you the best that I got,
For who we are is what we have brought,
To this sunny picnic amongst the flowers.

When this trip and adventure did start
Neither you nor I knew but only the heart,
We followed through for all we dared,
From that has come the moments shared,
On this sunny picnic with butterflies.

You and I have met our vulnerable,
For which there could be regret available,
I am energised with the sure and bold,
Not in the many sorry words that leave me cold,
At this sunny picnic let’s be quiet.

The love I see leaves me with smiles so wide,
In you, I have more than just a pride,
That ahead a future can be glowing bright,
We only need to get things right,
From this sunny picnic we skip back home.

Every time we say goodbye

[]

Chances

Sometimes, we must take chances and when it comes to love, it is best not to lose those chances. That is what I did with the sudden break in activity that allowed for me to review other aspects of my life and wellbeing. Running a long-distance relationship is not easy at the best of time and we are left to make the most of whatever time we can have together as we arrange and plan for the future.

In this, I found the opportunity to combine business and leisure, I flew out to Johannesburg eleven days ago and met up with my partner who flew in from Bulawayo. The hours of conversation on WhatsApp and Skype seemed to prepare us for this as if we had been together all along.

Embraces

All the in-jokes livened up into a celebration of happiness and joy as we held hands, laughed, kissed, and hugged. In that we weaved 9 days of romance, doing wonderful things all around Johannesburg, communicating and enjoying the companionship we hope to make into a life together, somewhere.

As the days went by and the time for us to return to our respective abodes dawned upon us, we tried as much not to agonise at our pending separation but made the best of every moment we have had together until I had to see him off to the airport this morning.

Advances

At the departure gates, we said our goodbyes and damned the consequences of kissing in public. It was a wonderful time we had together, we are also looking forward to just under 7 weeks away when we meet up for almost 3 weeks of fun and adventure.

Every time we say goodbye, much as it looks like we die a little, maybe, I almost cried a little, we also live for the moments of when we would say hello again, embrace each other and plot that story of lives intertwined for the prospect of wonder, beauty, intrigue, hope, love and more.

Thank you, South Africa, for giving me this wonderful and lovely feeling I never knew I had the wherewithal to express with anyone for a long time.

Thought Picnic: Knowing I have a life to live

A change I could not avoid

Five years ago, on the 30^th of April 2012, I finalised the sale of my apartment in Amsterdam and handed the keys over to a young couple hardly 30, who had expectations and a future ahead of them, my sadness at that time, however, did not take away from the very best wishes I had towards them.

My illness and the global credit crisis coincided in one perfect storm that I could no longer afford to keep the place in which I lived and had owned for ten and half years.

Yet, it is not their story that inspires me or spurs me on, the couple I bought my apartment from in 2001 were in their mid to late 70s, they had lived in Eindhoven in the south of the Netherlands for 25 years, in the lives of others like them, they should have been coasting to a quiet life of retirement and waiting for God, but they were a different breed.

Youth in the chances you take

She was already 70 and her husband, a few years older when they decided to buy an apartment off the plan in a new development in bustling Amsterdam, they completed the purchase and moved up to Amsterdam for three years where she became the chairperson of the residents and owners’ association of the apartment block that had 69 apartments in all.

After three years of a racy life in Amsterdam, they sold the apartment to me at a healthy profit to themselves and moved to an exclusive hospice-like residence on the banks of the River Rijn in Arnhem, what came across to me in what they did was a youthful exuberance and zest to live life to the full and embark on adventure many younger than them won’t even dare contemplate.

I have had to refresh my mind about this because it matters a lot about how I craft my outlook, future and prospects. Now, I am neither unaware of my vulnerability and mortality, both are ever present because of the afflictions of the past, but they must not define my daily quest in the pursuit of happiness and relevance to self and my close community.

Reality and expectation

Many times, I have thought of my eventual death and in some ways, I wonder why I am at all bothered about where and how I am going to be buried, yet, it is an issue that appears to concern me a bit that it would be prudent to have plans in place to settle that matter and take it completely off my mind. I have a life to live and until I am dead, I really cannot afford to start dying for my death.

Then, there is a cloud that comes around in a strange weather of my existence that inches me towards closing the books and shutting down as if death is imminent, some sort of premonition that needs attention, but I really cannot do anything once I am gone, that is left to those who feel I have been hopefully useful in their own lives, if I predecease them.

The drudgery in the background

I find that I have to boot myself out of that brooding situation and refuse to be overwhelmed by the exigencies of living, the search for fruitful engagement, the paying of the bills, the meeting of all sorts of responsibilities and the hope for a bit extra to have an open hand to others as well as having that much more for the pleasures of life.

I appreciate certain limitations, I enjoy good medical care, my medication is fully subsidised, my consultants have a good history of my situation they can be responsive and promptly attendant to issues than if I were to move elsewhere, that is always part of my consideration for long term plans, but with a bit of planning and consideration, all can be properly conveyed to other hands with no loss of efficiency or expertise.

Living for a better life still

Then again, there are probably some places I should completely cross off my list for emigration and chief amongst those would be the United States of America, it is no place for the vulnerable in whatever way and no place to seek the humanity of consideration from policymakers. Under Donald Trump, those who voted for him in hope of a positive change in their lives predicated on a campaign of fear and loathing would soon realise they came to dinner with the devil without wielding a long spoon.

There are things to attend to, the joy of living, the pursuit of happiness, the search for fulfilment, the attainment of new goals, the exploration of new and interesting places, the meeting of exciting people and when that day comes, a smile of my face having lived a life like no other.

That is what keeps me going, I am grafter in ways I have not entirely agreed I am, but I love the things I do and long may the pleasure continue. By the way, the young couple that bought my apartment in 2012 sold it in late 2015 for a hefty 25% profit, the sheer luck, I still live for a better life.

Edinburgh: Returning after two decades

Of memories, past

As new adventures go, my arrival in Scotland was not necessarily auspicious, but interesting all the same. The last time I was in Edinburgh was 20 years ago when I met up with a Brummie just like myself who lived in Scotland and was literally the antithesis of the company that people who saw us together ever thought I would keep.

He was in full skinhead attire at a time when many antisocial activities attributed to skinheads involved street violence and racial abuse. He was a SHARP skinhead, friendly, lovely and amazingly good company.

We kept in touch for a few years after my visit, at which time, he left Scotland for the West Midlands and with the passage of time, we have both completely lost contact with each other.

A yearning for the new

I stayed at the Ibis Hotel which had only opened a few weeks earlier and going online required a modem connection over a phone line, I was able to cross-charge the rate through my BT phonecard, now a collectible, how times have changed.

I was in Leeds on a Microsoft training course when I received a phone call from an agency about a role in Edinburgh, for some reason, the moment I heard of the role, my heart seemed to be set on the possibility that I would get the job.

It was another 8 days before I heard of their interest in interviewing me, it was to be a telephone interview in the morning, the Thursday before Easter. I attended with my mobile phone hooked up to a headphone because I was not sure taking the interview over a speakerphone would work so well.

Blog - Thought Picnic: My Interview Weaknesses

Whilst I cannot say I was the most articulate in my answers to the many questions posed about my skills and what I would be expected to do, the interview appeared to go well. I had not interviewed for a role for over 3 years, so there was no practice in the kitty to ensure I would exude any confidence that a person of my experience would be expected to have.

Plans, proposals, and prospects

I was not to hear anything until after the Easter holidays when on Wednesday I was contacted that they would want a face-to-face interview in Edinburgh on Friday. In the meanwhile, some terms of the contract changed unfavorably, but I was still willing to put my lot with this prospect.

I considered spending the weekend in Edinburgh but some deeper premonition suggested I go up for the day and return home for the weekend. In the process, that meant I found time to attend my goddaughter’s birthday in Dorset.

At the interview, we started off on a very friendly note, some comment made about my dressing and the reference to my father whose thoughts to me at one time were, ‘Appearances matter always.’ That I have found in some places of work that I have the best dressed is not one of extraneous effort, just that inclination to be well presented.

And so, we agreed

In that sitting, after I was asked if I was up for the challenge and a challenge it would be, I dedicated myself to the cause and I was offered the role without recourse to the agency first. We agreed I would start on Tuesday and Monday was spent sorting out the contractual details and other finery.

Sunday had me out to Dorset and then Monday, a 5:40-hour journey up to Edinburgh where the first 4 nights are being spent at a University of Edinburgh apartment accommodation. I did more on Friday discovering Edinburgh than I have had the time to do since I arrived on Monday. The statue of Sir Walter Scott, 1^st Baronet, author of Ivanhoe and Rob Roy amongst others.

My office faces onto the craggy steep rocks that form the foundations of the Edinburgh Castle, I will probably spend a weekend here soon to explore the city. However, without any doubt, I am enjoying this new adventure north of Hadrian’s Wall. On reflection, I have now worked in the three nations of Great Britain and just one left of the United Kingdom.

Childhood: The privilege of a good primary school education

My knuckles hurt

I doubt my parents have ever recognised the value of the primary school education I had and how that seems to have contributed to the makeup of who I am and my personality.

I went to three primary schools starting with the Army Children’s School in Kaduna where I spent a year. There are three things I remember about that school, my first day when as soon as my mother and aunt appeared to take me home, I walked out of the class without the school having closed.

The Indian headmistress usually had a fingernail inspection and if we had any nails growing, she clipped the back of our fingers with the edge of a ruler. For a kid of just over 5 years of age, it is strange that we were expected to clip our nails, which should have been the responsibility of our parents.

Bussed around

I guess the idea was we were punished to the extent that we had to inform our parents of what they need to do, that was my introduction to the rottenness of corporal punishment. The last event was when my father arrived late to pick me up.

I got on the school bus and went to sit at the back. Just before the bus pulled away, my dad’s car pulled up, I made no move to get off and he basically followed the bus literally round town before he got attention of the driver and the permission to take me off the bus.

A better place

I am glad we left Kaduna because my second school, Corona Primary School, Shamrock House in Bukuru, Jos was a completely different place. I joined the school jumping a class to class 3 and had the amazing opportunity for a well-rounded education.

Our school was international and followed a more English curriculum as opposed to the rival Hillcrest School that had more of an American system. I remember we had reading, writing and spelling classes beyond the usual lessons. We had many excursions, notably one to the veterinary school at Vom.

We had scope to explore, to inquire, to question, to challenge, to debate and to dispute, all teachers were accessible, I never once saw the use of corporal punishment, yet the quality and standard of discipline was high. I think this environment gave me the boldness to have views and opinions with the ability to project those with conviction.

A full education

Whilst my parents have intimated that I have always been a conversationalist for as long as they could remember, I just knew I could engage anyone in conversation if they were interested enough to want a conversation. The number of difficult and tight spots just being able to speak my mind has gotten me out of are innumerable, I’ve been blessed.

Our library was stocked with books I ravenously devoured but I never really liked writing, especially writing letters that seemed to grow on me much later in life. One day, I found a French course book in one of the cupboards in our class and whilst I had no means of knowing the pronunciations, I began to teach myself French.

It is quite strange that one is still learning new things from events of over 40 years ago. The line of a song we practiced before a performance I never got to attend, I learnt today was from The Pirates of Penzance – A Policeman’s lot Is not a happy one – it is strange I never bothered to check all this while.

A greater sense of adventure

After three years in Jos, we returned to Kaduna where I was enrolled in the Sacred Heart Primary School for the sixth year. Though I missed 4 months of school attending common entrance examinations in South-West Nigeria, I was already quite independent minded and more or less able to travel alone and make the necessary enquiries to get anywhere I needed to get to.

Yet, in that year, I joined painting classes which just helped improve my sense of expression and for some reason I could not explain, I was cast as Pharaoh in our school’s Christmas production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.

As Pharaoh of all Egypt in 1975

One interesting event in my school year was attending a Sharia Court session in Kaduna, we were pupils of a Catholic School with backgrounds too varied to count and yet that was a thing of great interest to us all.

More than eye-opening

What primary school education gave me was a great sense of adventure in learning, a demanding curiosity to understand things, a very inquisitive mind and sometimes I very liberal view of things. The environment in which I studied was quite multiracial, I had schoolmates from all around the world and that gave me a broad worldview of equality in our humanity.

They tried to beat that out of many of us with that kind of background in secondary school, but they failed, we were fearless, wily and sometimes too streetwise for our own liking. We were rarely the top of the class in those times, because we could never learn by rote, we had to understand what we were taught and answered questions as we understood what we had learnt.

Now, I am not a man of many letters, but nothing can better the quality of foundational and diverse primary school education I was privileged to have. That in my view can be the differentiator in many things and opportunities I have had in life.

When we toured the primary schools in that Cape Town suburb just over two weeks ago, it dawned on me again why a good primary school education sets the stage for an amazing life. Very little can compensate for the lack of this foundation, even if that person ends up being very successful in any walk of life.

Thought Picnic: Don't leave your youth behind

Riding through life

Being a passenger in a taxi cab is becoming a story of life and experiences seen through the keyhole of conversations that could last anything from 10 minutes to 30 minutes. I have heard of a death, a graduation, two operations, holidays, a retirement and many other tales of interesting careers before they took up driving.

The other day, I was picked up by a completely new driver from the firm that offers the service and in the process I found myself going through recollecting episodes and remembering names of the many others who have picked me up.

To think that I got to ten was quite revealing and yet from teacher to tearaway, policeman to cricketer and any other profession, I have found people who are everyday lovely and interesting people.

The end of one venture

On Friday, I bookended the taxi driving career of a man who had retired at 55, took to being a chauffeur and taxi cab driver and just 6 weeks after he turned 65, he decided his hackney carriage licence which comes up for renewal today should expire. He is going on to other interests you take up in retirement – going on holidays with his wife.

Whilst I somewhat lamented the change and the fact that the interaction with many strangers will end, he recalled his first job where he picked up two young ladies, how memorable that was and how for the conversations we used to have, my being his last passenger before he returns the car and waves goodbye to a decade of driving will be memorable too.

Embracing youth

What fascinated me is the way many people who are much older embrace change and sometimes embrace change faster, enthusiastically and better than the youth. The couple I bought my apartment in Amsterdam from, some over 13 years ago were in their late 70s, they had bought that apartment off a plan uncompleted after 25 years of living in Eindhoven in their early 70s and spent 3 wonderful years in Amsterdam.

She, the wife was the chairperson of the resident’s / owner’s association in a block of 63 apartments in a 19-storey apartment block. They left Amsterdam for an idyllic riverside serviced convalescence apartment in Arnhem. A place they bought off the proceeds of selling their Amsterdam apartment to me.

A state of the mind

What struck me was the youth adventure of doing something new and living happily in the present, unburdened by their past whilst lacking any apprehension for the future. Youthfulness is rarely a function of the chronological age, it is more a state of the mind.

That, I think is the wonder of youthfulness and it is infectious at any age if you allow yourself that freedom.

“Youth is a wonderful thing. What a crime to waste it on children.” George Bernard Shaw and as it happens, I did visit his house at Ayot St Lawrence in the 1990s. He died in 1950 at the age of 94.

The above quote is a better version than the more commonly quoted, “Youth is wasted on the young,” and I saw it on one of the boards outside the Bachelor Inn in Dublin, last year.

Dinner in the infectiously youthful company of Chief Jibunoh

Shy and shrinking

Generally, I am not that good at networking, but I have that there are some people I have met who have had such a profound impact on me and with whom I have cultivated interesting eye-opening relationships.

I can strike up conversations with people on almost any topic, from the utterly mundane to the very serious, the theme that recurs is that our lives are stories, yet many of us never really get to tell those stories from the unique perspective of our voices.

I was in London to attend TEDxEuston and had arrived the night before to stay at my very good friend, Funmi Iyanda's place who as I arrived in London was about to go out to dinner with friends.

To dinner

By happenstance, the planned meeting was running a bit late and with it came an invitation to join them for dinner in London’s Mayfair area.

Before we left, she mentioned we’ll be meeting with Chief Jibunoh, his daughters, granddaughters and friends. I had read of his expeditions on the Sahara Desert years ago and this suddenly looked like an exciting prospect to meet an explorer.

Dr Newton Jibunoh [CNN] is nothing like what you will see of his peers in Nigeria, a grandee, no doubt but quite down-to-earth, adventurous, optimistic, interesting and most of all, an engaging raconteur. At 27 in 1965, he drove alone all the way home from London to Nigeria crossing the Sahara Desert, he has gone back to the desert twice again.

Much as I will not share as a matter of discretion the particulars of our dinner conversations, he left a great impression on me.

Adventure is educational

He is an environmentalist; he founded the NGO – Fight Against Desert Encroachment [FADEAfrica].

However, this well-travelled man allowed me to draw a contrast, the unusualness of his activities that we do not generally find amongst Nigerians, who tend to travel but appear to lack a sense of either adventure or curiosity.

As one of my tweeps observed on Twitter a few days ago, London is the main holiday destination of Nigerians, probably with Dubai and New York, not to imbibe art or relax, but just to shop.

Losing our youthfulness

It is a sad reality that there is no inquisitiveness that drives the desire to explore, to discover, to experience, to appreciate or to understand things and differences outside our zones of comfort and familiarity.

This mind-set has insidious and debilitating consequences because it robs us of youth and youthfulness, the possibility of expanded horizons is left to degenerate into disabling myopia, as we allow bluster and bombast to cover for our satisfied and yet stark ignorance.

In Dr Jibunor, who is soon to be 77, I found a man still open to the new, the different, the other and the exciting and as we parted ways, we all knew he’ll be up to something really adventurous and we cannot wait to hear of what he has gotten up to next.

More pertinently, there is a need for us to capture a sense of adventure, the quest for knowledge through the education of experiencing something new, first with our neighbourhoods, like going down a different path, trying a different means of transport, trying different foods, going to museums and breaking out of established norms.

The world is a beautiful place, but until we get out to see that world of people, culture, diversity, amazing colour and breath-taking nature for ourselves, the sense of beauty will only be heard of in the stories told by others, like Chief Jibunoh.

Thought Picnic: What was I afraid of?

Reviewing life

As I made for work this morning, I read a news report in the Metro News free newspaper where William Shatner, Captain Kirk of Star Trek fame was interviewed.

At the end of that interesting interview of a man of 82 good years of excitement they returned to what he proposed as his epitaph, “What was I afraid of?”

Indeed, one does ask, where Captain Kirk travelled light-years on futuristic spacecraft at warp speed, meeting civilisations that fuelled the fantasy with imagination, the real life William Shatner declined an offer to travel into space because he was afraid.

Breaking away from hindsight

It is unlikely even if he has overcome that fear now that he would be considered travel worthy of a space odyssey, however, a greater lesson is available to us.

We must ask now, what we were afraid of, what we are afraid of or what we might become afraid of, for all sorts of reasons and do well to overcome the terrifying bondage of fear and release ourselves into the beauty of expression, the exhilaration of adventure and the joy of fulfilling relationships.

Breaking away from my fears

I see that in myself, the fears, the worries and the concerns that burden me by reason of experiences bad and horrid of my past, that moderate my current outlook and sometimes prevents me from launching out into the amazing wonder of enjoying my life as best I can, living to the full.

As I make do rather than make out, survive rather than thrive and restrain rather than let loose, let go and fly free, innately, I am afraid of many things, unspoken and undone, waiting for some opportunity or situation that may never come as I prepare myself for avoidable regret.

Break free from fear

One must talk to oneself, because the freedom we grant ourselves in refusing to be gripped with fear, the fear of people, the fear of society, the fear of shame, the fear of fear itself might yield a new kind of person, one you never knew you were until you let go.

The question when the reckoning is done, if we get to be interviewed like William Shatner is not to be faced with, What was I afraid of? We must from now begin to change that to, “I was afraid of nothing, I lived life to the full.”

Decade Blogs - Tolu Oloruntoba - Royalties at the end of a river

Decade Blogs

In Royalties, for my decade of blogging, Tolu Oloruntoba looks at a source of constant conflict in Nigeria from the history linked to an explorer who perished far from home to those who for exploitation perish in their own lands.

Blog - To Celebrate My Decade of Blogging

We are left with questions about rights; the rights of ownership in conflict with the rights to exploit without which the resource is a meaningless deposit with much potential yet undiscovered or wasted, so is the capacity we have to express our thoughts, some written and others left unknown how do you determine the royalties between expression and silence?.

Tolu Oloruntoba uses the Twitter handle @ToluOloruntoba, I guess his royalty check is in the post. Thank you.

Who owns the oil river
and the carbonaceous secrets of the Delta?
Why, the guys upriver, of course,
in silenced Sahara marshes,
saving in these banks for others to take;
Adamawas eaten by the river rising, oily;
And poor old Mungo,
at the end of his Niger at last,
in disillusioned increments we cremate, in pistons,
with forgotten insurrections and dynasties,
hunters, hunted, fishers and fish
writing themselves into strata of future,
beneath our feet.
You didn’t know?
It ends in fire.

Postscript

1. Geography teaches us about the millennia of deposits it really takes to create crude oil, thousands of feet down. Who, then, in our case, should really get Nigerian oil royalties? The Niger Delta, Federal Government, or all the highlands and places bypassed and collected from? At any rate, crude oil, like most other fossil fuels, is a legacy of bygone eras. Those who left it to us are long gone. It’s a pity we have to be so human in our squabbles to share it. One also wonders what we are laying down now, and what will be left of us, millennia hence.

2. Mungo Park, the Scottish explorer who died seeking the source of the Niger, is buried at Jebba. One can imagine how the circle of life would have brought him, eventually, to the end of his tragically shortened journey.

3. I have followed Uncle Akin’s blog for at least five of his last ten years of blogging. Here’s to many more, if only (we’re selfish, I know) to enjoy his sensitivity, cracking wit and depth of conviction. It has been an honour to glean from his uniquely fertile mind, and be moved by his thoughts, sense of justice, and bravery in the face of truth, triumph or tragedy. We cannot pay him enough, in glowing words or royalties J, for the bolstering of our conscience, and deposits into our soul.