Land of nope at the platinum jubilee

A buffet to party

I had deliberately avoided the Platinum Jubilee celebrations along with the patriotic fervour that seemed to describe an event that could barely be attended by the celebrant who had achieved the extraordinary feat of being on the throne for 70 years, apart from snatches of it on television.

However, I found myself invited to participate with a community that I have somewhat made my own, as my local church is the Manchester Cathedral, and we were enjoined to attend a platinum jubilee party after the Sung Eucharist where the Queen was to be toasted by the Bishop of Manchester.

The party was professionally catered, and we lined up for the buffet as we picked up cutlery, queuing around the table to choose whatever took our fancy to eat. After which, I found a place to sit before the Dean presented me with a song sheet that had Land of Hope and Glory and God Save the Queen.

Empire on the roam

My obvious lack of curiosity is probably the reason why I have not really reckoned on the words of Land of Hope and Glory; nothing could have prepared me for the utterly unapologetic imperialist import of the words of the song, and much as it is trotted out for nostalgic jingoism at any opportunity, is so totally anachronistic that any self-aware person would find themselves quite reticent to have those words leave their lips even if in state of inebriation.

Land of hope and glory, mother of the free,
How shall we extol thee, who are born of thee,
Wider still and wider, shall thy bounds be set,
God who made thee mighty, make thee mightier,
God who made thee mighty, make thee mightier yet.

That is the chorus, the words by Arthur C. Benson (1902), music by Edward Elgar (1901) and it became one of the signature songs of the armed forces sweetheart Vera Lynn during WWII.

Let’s do it again

After we sang it the first time, the old ladies already distributing Union Jacks urged us to wave them with enthusiasm and then asked for the organist to go for an encore, so, we sang it again as those caught in the delirium of this nationalistic cannabis mist, almost began to dance like whirling dervishes, we could be as possessed as we are willing to allow ourselves.

But this song belongs nowhere in the 21st Century and definitely not in the UK of today, for very few have that hope for any glory in a life that meets the threshold of basic or comfortable. To those of us somewhat well-off, the cost-of-living crisis is just a blip, alright the pot of yoghurt I used to buy at the supermarket at 80p is now 90p, one banana costs 2p extra, I can see the cost of milk, eggs, pasta, cheese, beef cutlets and many more things go up, but they are all still affordable.

Wider is the berth

My rent is going up just as my energy bills are, and I am paying more tax, but I am part of the fortunate few that would weather this storm. Many more can't make ends meet, they are using food banks that might not be well-stocked, and they are even turning off their fridges and freezers to save on electricity, the consequence of which is food poisoning recorded in some children.

As the Victorian era came to an end ushering in the Edwardian era of Edward VII, the British Empire was at its height, the sun did not set on the realms of our monarchy and probably there was this idea that the bounds of the empire should grow wider and that the empire be mightier, but today, there is little to widen or magnify, we have shrunk into an outpost on the west of Mainland Europe, hanging on to the glory of the Commonwealth of Nations that is an association over which we have little or no influence.

Diminished through and through

Britannia did once rule the waves, but we can hardly put together a navy that rivals many of our peer nations. Unfortunately, we are failing to lay a grip on our current reality for a fictional Utopia of might and influence that none living today ever experienced. Yet, it is enough a distraction from the failings of Brexit, the lack of vision or purpose of Her Majesty's Government and once these 4 days of fun are over, we would be back to where we were 5 days ago, hungry, poor, destitute, and hopefully, not too hopeless.

I did participate, but I was not as enthused, our society is too unequal for the occasional patriotic activity to solve the deep problems that afflict our nation. At the time of the empire, we could rape the colonies for the benefit of the motherland, however, none of that is available anymore.

Our sovereign lady, the Queen though well-loved is in the twilight of her reign and life, the monarchy is on the wane and no passionate flag-waving is going to lift the flaggingly desperate situation that bedevils the Britannia that once ruled the waves.

Coronavirus streets in Manchester & Leeds - XLV

Many a gory Tory here

One is glad to desert Manchester for a week as a brief walk around a section of the city around the Manchester Convention Centre gave much meaning to that situation beyond other extenuating circumstances, the police and cordons laid out to insulate the ruling party from its public and the vehemence of misgovernment.

The Tories are coming to Manchester for their annual convention and what an inconvenience it would be to all but the ones in the thrall of Boris Johnson whilst celebrating the apparent successes of Brexit which are patently invisible to most except those with impaired eyesight.

Leading to Leeds

Meanwhile, on a train to Leeds, the rain simply followed relentlessly on a journey that was as uneventful as to be recorded in sleep. Of all of us on my coach, only two of us donned face masks. We are all letting our guard down and this pandemic is hardly over. The UK retained the highest number of new cases worldwide and we are still ahead of our European neighbours in the number of deaths due to COVID-19. [WorldInfoMeters: Coronavirus]

I was last in Leeds just the week before I lost my baby sister, now coming to 5 years. The same hotel, some excuses that I overlooked until I went to the bar and was left feeling quite irked by the time I got to check-in my room.

Oh yes, it’s ladies’ slight

Later, when I went shopping for a few morning goods, the ladies were all more exposed yet bedecked like for a Cinderella summer ball except if I am unaware of some invisible thermal garments to help keep them from freezing in the cold and rain. Their slipper heels as unsteady as walking a rope bridge buffeted by winds strung over a ravine infested with hungry crocodiles in a river last rowed centuries ago.

Obviously, the reference to dress, apparel and appearance is oblique, one for which commentary should be reserved apart from thinking, surely more could be done. Anyway, the pandemic is the last thing on their minds much as hen nights seem to have chosen Leeds for revelry and unspeakable acts of wanton and reckless expression. It’s in the air, maybe no one is breathing it.

Thought Picnic: My city of sights and sighs

Walk this way

On the rare occasion that I spend the weekend in what is essentially for me a hotel city, I could easily be at a loose end. Not given to much rigorous exercise until those who I have asked to teach me how to swim, find the time to send me the forms and offer me a slot, I go for walks.

Night time walks around the city can be interesting and it could be anything from 90 minutes to two hours. Easy, unaided, purposeful and consequently tiring.

Obstructions abound

On this walk, I took a different route, up the road to a section that was buzzing with more activity than I thought was possible, loud music, people outside smoking, pavements impassable, you wonder what the bouncers are there for if the patrons of the establishments they work for, block the public freeways.

Anyone who had to navigate the city in a wheelchair will probably not venture out again after one night of running the gauntlet of unreasonable and inconsiderate human impediments.

The result of excess

Of the people, in interesting states of dress and wear brought on by the excess of party, drink, food, drug and whatever else, there is much you probably would not like to see. A lady wearing one high-heeled shoe with the other in her hand, a wobbly gait that would make a silent movie a hit.

Across the road is the indulgence of emesis, the effluent of which, some hapless fellow will step into with the very likelihood of capturing the sensation of a waterslide, forget the stench. Others with eyes glazed, words slurred, gaits unsteady, just coherent enough to call out their home address before the slump in the backseat of an Uber cab. What a night, it must have been.

Emerging for emergency

The night is busy, blaring sirens of ambulances and police cars piercing the night with an uneasy cacophony in a rush to incident, accident, disturbance or crime. The price of peace is hardly won in tranquillity.

Then down the road where both police and ambulance were stayed, the aftermath was a van over a motorcycle, the rider probably survived, but very likely will see the hospital before getting home in a week, if lucky.

You can never say whether it was inconsideration, indifference, distraction or impatience, but at that time of the night, dangers lurk and so the need for more care from all users of the roads.

On reflection

I have my vices, but they are neither of drink, of substance nor of inhalation, I wear my sobriety in many places like a middle-aged man yet to lose his virginity, unaware of any of the whys and wherefores of what others over-indulge in that they are non compos mentis.

My vice is of the hidden sort, acquired at a time when I had no choice, an innocence lost to the pleasure of another and from that issues that have me railing against those who freely take advantage and face very little consequence.

Silent amongst the revellers in some doorways, however, are other people without choice, a blight on our consciences and society, the homeless verging on the helpless. We may never hear their story beyond a plea for spare change or a light for a cigarette, we have a great city of sights and sighs; may we find more sights than sighs, lifting all in aim and cause for the pursuit of happiness.

Incredible India - We did Christmas and tried to party

Away in a manager

One has to give all kudos to Koenig Solutions for hastily arranging a Christmas party this afternoon considering a good number of us will be in India over the Christmas and New Year holidays.

In a Hindu majority country and possibly Hindu majority city along with the staff of Koenig Solutions, one can appreciate the involvement of everyone to help ease the nostalgia that is accentuated by being away at such a time from family, relations, friends and home.

The roof terrace was carpeted green, with white and pinkish-red curtains as cordons round the entire terrace, no, it was not nightclub ambience.

Good King Wenceslas

The party somewhat started before I got there with my new trainer, the compere who I think is probably one of the senior officials was introducing the main members of his team who were the technical managers and team leaders of the clusters of trainers for the courses the Koenig Solutions runs.

If anything, it was a wonderful showcase of the Indian talent that makes Koenig Solutions a high choice for the many who run the gauntlet of inscrutable visa application processes and endure with little commentary the conditions that yearn for some voices.

As I was opportuned to read on my Twitter time line yesterday; a good man does no good remaining silent when he should be talking – not that I will arrogate to myself any status than to make observations and offer suggestions.

O come all ye faithful

One cannot say the trainers were examples of public speaking nor were their comments representative of the expertise or underlying genius of their ability. If not shy, reticent and somewhat too stiff to join in the fun of the compere who seemed to have a rather good sense of fun and humour that made for some entertainment.

The disk jockey was a confused spell of discs with the music starting and stopping abruptly that it made for irritation that could draw the ire of plugging the plug and asking everyone to do nursery rhymes instead.

Drinks were served and the Santa Claus whose costume could do with a few well directed claws cut the cake with a knife I thought was a camp knife picked up as an afterthought.

God rest ye, merry gentlemen

Then we were invited to play games, at which point, farce was beckoning the farcical – the trainees were in an inner circle walking in a clockwise direction and the trainers on the outer circle walking in an anti-clockwise direction and as the music spluttered to a stop, the trainee and trainer were to give the first impressions of each other – I held my head in my hands.

O, for some inspiration; maybe some wisdom, surely, it could get no worse as a second and third round of walking left the partners misaligned. Maybe I should not forget the observation of another colleague for all he could see were 8 men holding hands – it was a game if you were there but a picture might just convey a different impression.

Once in royal David’s city

Then the floor was opened for dancing, everything from hip-hop through Bollywood music was thrown in with the expected segue of a DJ at hand.

Soon we were spared any more torture, the party ended not really having been a party in a general sense but at least it offered a time for us to let down our hair – What am I talking about? I have none.

So, there was our Christmas party and I would generously not rate it apart from say it gets full marks for good intentions and some cake.

Thank you, Koenig Solutions for bringing Bethlehem to New Delhi.

Nigeria: Juvenile Party Shopping and Hopping

Party hop-scotch

It is almost a waste of time reading about political carpet-crossings [1] in Nigerian politics. It was hardly two days ago that I told a friend that Nigerian political party structures are weak and peopled by persons without principles, ideology, allegiance or common loyalty.

I have predicted that the next president of Nigeria would be the aspirant running on the platform of the ruling party and that is really where the contest for federal leadership is.

This is because the ruling party has a broader network within Nigeria than all the other parties which appear to be regional in where they exercise power.

When other parties contested the results of the 2007 elections, they put forward the weakest case possible; the ruling party had 70% of the votes and the gubernatorial elections gave them 26 out of 36 states – the prosecution based their case on evidence from 4 states which could in no way overturn or annul the election even if the courts found in their favour.

Expediency of incumbency

The issue of political immaturity is made with news that so close to elections there are mass movements by malcontents between parties, all to the end of emerging in control of the situation.

For instance, the erstwhile Minister of Information, as both the propaganda mouthpiece of the government and in some cases speaking in the name of the ruling party, has now decided to run for the Senate but the party in government in her home state is not the ruling party.

In effect, she has defected to the party that offers her the best chance of taking office rather than fight on the platform of the party that she was a political mouthpiece of for over 3 years.

It is opportunistic and the politics of expediency and that is how our politicians play the game.

The politics of egos

The politics we have are not those of persuasion, policy or ideas, they are vehicles for egomaniacal influence, if a personality does not get their way in their party they look for other parties ready to give them the opportunity to usurp positions that would naturally have gone to those who have loyally pledged their allegiances breeding a new set of disaffected people who seek other platforms to launch from. A kind of Last In - First Considered ploy.

In essence, a whole new set of dictums materialise; patience is a virtue as long as it is the other man; compromise is reached as long as it is my view; consensus is agreed upon if I can lead – failing all that, we’ll throw all our toys out the pram and wail till another party pacifies us with the dummy of being in charge.

Where our politics is lacking

This is where our democracy fails us woefully, there is no clear indication of political inclination as to whether parties are of the right, the left, social-democrat, conservative, liberal, socialist or anything. Even the so-called Labour Party only bears that in name, the workings are down to personalities, the power and influence they can wield and their prowess in one-upmanship or brinkmanship.

It is a shame that despite that seeming maturity in age of the contenders their affectations are juvenile and worthy of serious derisive condemnation; one can only wonder if the constant flux of allegiances would eventually yield reliable, responsible and accountable government but people who have left one party for another should not automatically assume commensurate authority and supposed leadership in their new parties.

If they have not been able to persuade their old parties of their views, ideas, purposes and concerns surely they cannot suddenly become the best faces for the new parties they have joined, if anything, giving them power simply creates a disruptive influence in the new party helping the party they have left coalesce with the personalities they left behind.

Sources

[1] » Exodus as Saraki, Shagaya, Ladoja, Akume, Bwari leave PDP - Vanguard (Nigeria)

No combs to dress the hair on fire

A snapshot of celebrity

It would be remiss of me not to offer an opinion if not a form of social commentary on the cult of celebrity and the prisoners of that wave of image embellishment or rather pretentious charity.

The news article [1] offers a bit of detail but the 50 seconds of video that accompanies speaks a world about what it shows and it is a microcosm of a glittering and almost tantalising spectacle one that is as attractive as it is debilitating and dangerous.

Mr Sean Combs [2], known as many variations from Puff Daddy to P. Diddy that polite society is better served by referring to his birth name and refuse to be carried away with the razzmatazz is a very successful man and he was in New York to promote the launch of his new album, Last Train To Paris.

Having hired the pent house suite of a posh hotel as hip-hop hedonism allows, the renowned of that genre and ilk had gathered there for a smoke-filled party with an American actor/comedian Kevin Hart [3] apparently compering.

At the hot tub

In the video, Kevin Hart sets the scene; they are nowhere more respectable than at the hot tub fishing as it were for what might be left to your imagination, but there is a “model” sat in a bubble and rose petal filled bath surrounded by lit candles.

We are made to understand that party is female-friendly, I suppose that means there are scantily clad ladies all around that place titillating the men and getting their adrenaline and testosterone levels running high with the scent of wanton debauchery or smell of sex probably created by one of Mr. Combs’ piss-water perfumes.

Kevin Hart might even jump into the bath tub probably to have a wash, surely, as a married father of two children, it is unlikely that it is his wife that would be scrubbing his back at the London as he liberally introduces other "niggers", a word fashionable amongst that clique but abominable to other races.

All hair on fire

I will leave the issue of the objectification of women, the lack of respect for their person, their use for the elevation of the animal instinct towards the Neanderthal man and their function as pheromone secretion catalysts on hedonist gatherings to others to address.

However, as we ogled the lady in the bath whose poise shifted to some rather more provocative pose, her hair, probably conditioned with non-flame retardant chemical caught fire, it took a while for her to notice what was happening and the guests might have been too absorbed in ambience to have the presence of mind to react appropriately.

Then suddenly, the flame caught on and she ducked into the water to quench the flames but the seconds that show that event left me more than just concerned. It did not appear that anyone went to her aid and when Kevin Hart realised what was going on, he was more particular about that event not being caught on camera than attending to the unfortunate lady. They all found it funny, they really did.

Forget chivalry

I can only wonder who that lady was, how she got that job, how burnt she got, what care and comfort she received and where she is now.

Keith Hart’s reaction left much to be desired, but then if we ever expected and chivalry in such a setting, we must have forgotten that ostentation does not necessarily breed class and having a huge profile like this with all the apparently stage-managed publicity and photo opportunities does not reveal the real sense of compassion or humanity the principals might have.

Smudging the image

In this very short episode, Mr Combs could not understand why fire-fighters were called, which would have been the right thing to do including getting a first-aid crew on site with the possibility of having the lady taken to hospital for observation and possible treatment.

Mr Combs was having a launch party and such a distraction could not be allowed to get in the way of a night of revelry, the music played on, everything was under control but the inability to prevent the release of this video and the lady is probably history.

We, the cultists of celebrity

That is the world of today’s celebrity, it is about image and the management of it, presenting a pretentious façade to the world of being rich and successful with foundations helping the unfortunate wherever they might be but not when met with the immediacy of helping a damsel in distress.

These are our role models, our motivational speakers, our figures of emulation and the people we aspire to become; people who shirk responsibility, lack character, denigrate women, men without integrity but money talks and as long as everyone is having a nice time, the lady was at best an annoyance, woe betide her, she was for the record the collateral damage of keeping that image pristine.

The video reveals the underbelly of the odious and the reprehensible and just about the worst of that sub-culture, the majority might however not be persuaded to refuse to patronise such people and their stock in trade because we are prisoners of the cult of celebrity, slaves to the pretentious icon and already impervious to basic human values. I lament.

The longer version of that event appears here [4], you can make up your mind about it, but I did not find it funny, at all.

Sources

[1] Diddy-Dirty Money's: Model's hair catches fire at album release party in LA | Mail Online

[2] Sean Combs - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

[3] Kevin Hart (actor) - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

[4] YouTube - Girl Hair Catches Fire on Diddy's Dirty Money Ustream Party + Reenactment

Nigeria: Yar'Adua cannot resign because of 2015

Party politics influence

Somehow I am disappointed that contemporaneous circumstances are beclouding the ability of people to see the reality of why we have the phantom of a comatose President Umaru Yar’Adua lurking the Acting President Goodluck Jonathan’s corridors of influence.

It goes without saying that party politics in Nigeria has a way of supplanting due process and offers the ruling party the opportunity to become the machinery of state.

Just like we had in the Second Republic [1], the ruling party was the National Party of Nigeria and chieftains in the party seemed to have a higher public profile than the elected executives, face of the government then was Chief A. M. A. Akinloye the chairman of NPN whilst the President, Shehu Shagari was the figurehead façade of rampant kleptocracy.

The snouts in the trough

Now, in the Fourth Republic [2], the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) has progressively dominated all the levels of government with the patronage that allows for the abuse and misuse of power.

Worse still, the PDP operates a constitution that relegates the Nigerian Constitution to a subsection of their procedures and rules of engagement – that has become so evident with the saga surrounding the departure from the public space of the President Yar’Adua due to suspected ill health.

In order to appease the conflicting egos and forces of influence in the ruling party they arranged that executive power would alternate between the Christian South and the Muslim North, neither the North nor South is exclusively Muslim or Christian but that is the accepted view of Nigerians.

8 for us and 8 for them

A Christian Southerner held power for 2 terms adding up to 8 years with his Muslim Northerner running mate and from May 2007 a Muslim Northerner with his Christian Southerner running was selected to run the country and approved to take power through one of the most widely rigged elections ever in Nigeria.

The little detail in this matter was that the Muslim Northerner had a pre-existing illness which probably has been exacerbated by the burden of office and forced him out of public view since November 2009.

We now have an Acting President who was the running mate and a Christian Southerner as well as a conundrum that leaves the ruling party in a quandary.

Resignation leaves them with 7

Their perverse constitution requires for power to be vested in the North until 2015 which is the two terms of 4 years each starting from 2007, but if the seemingly incapacitated substantive President were to resign the ruling party would have a Christian Southerner in charge, albeit for just a year because they do not intend the Southerner to run in 2011.

By 2015, the Northerners would only have had 7 years with their snouts to the trough, the Southerners would want their candidate for 2015 and the clamour would be around fulfilling the 8 years with the Northerners running for 11 years and all the mess that would be a right old mess.

For that supposedly obscure reason, the ruling party would rather have a comatose Northern President lurking in the background of the Acting President until the next elections in 2011 than risk the trough-sharing opportunities they have projected for the future.

The issue is in 2015

That way, the 2-term 8 year power sharing arrangement of the pre-eminent constitution of the ruling party is kept without much regard for the Nigerian Constitution or Nigerians.

It is the reason why the entire clamour around the presence or absence of President Yar’Adua must stop and we should start to bolster the authority of Acting President Goodluck Jonathan, thereby, forcing the hand of the ruling party to bow to the inevitable.

The issue today is not about the health of the President or 2011, it is really about the consequences actions of today might have on 2015 – that is where the problem really is – in 2015.

Sources

Nigerian Second Republic - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Nigerian Fourth Republic - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Nigeria: The need for a Nigerian leader

A real Nigerian wanted

The question then becomes, when would we have a real Nigerian President? A competent able reliable and visionary person regardless of sex, belief, affiliation or religion.

Someone with ideas, concepts and insights to lead with the purpose of allowing Nigeria achieve its potential, engaging all talents and resources to the common goal of making Nigeria great and making its people prosperous.

A person who derives power and authority through real popular consent rather than through the capricious machinations of party politics serving aims inimical to nationhood and the national identity.

Too many pools of cretins

When would leadership look for the best of Nigerians rather than a rudimentary even geographical distribution of representatives without adequate talent?

The fact is, we have been saddled with too many pools and very few talent pools, mediocre self-serving placeholders whose poverty of mind and spirit does not allow them to have independence or initiative where decision is required.

This divisive rut being imposed on Nigeria is perpetrated by the ruling party that has a perverse and atrocious condition in its constitution to alternate the presidency between the Northern Muslims and Southern Christians.

The erstwhile President happened to be a Southern Christian who sat in office for 8 years and but for the unfortunate circumstance of events the current Northern Muslim President is ill, incommunicado and probably too incapacitated to execute his office leading to his Southern Christian running-mate assuming the role of Acting President.

No recognition of the facts

The rotten arrangement has Nigeria hamstrung because the strict adherence to that party constitutional fudge has meant that no pressure is being placed on the President to resign – in his probably comatose state, he becomes a haunting ghost in the Acting President’s purview with the risk of invalidating the acts of office if he suddenly recovers even for just one day.

It is saddening that all the governors of whom the majority comes from the ruling party have refused to address a very pertinent situation in the general interest of the country.

Likewise, the leaders of the houses of assemblies have somehow stifled all the essential debates that would allow the Acting President substantively take office as President without the threat of a Lazarus return of his boos who has been out of sight since the 23rd of November 2009.

A blatant disregard

Not much can be said of the Federal Executive Council of ministers who have in all their timidity failed to act boldly, honestly, truthfully and courageously on the very evidence of the President’s absence.

The greatest opprobrium should however be reserved for the governors who might like this presidency present the candidates for ruling party to run for the 2011 elections.

Their blatant disregard for the contemporary and obvious situation that fuels discord, disarray, uncertainty and confusion is not helped with the lie that the President after being in the country for a week is recovering and recuperating but not to be seen.

No interest of Nigeria in them

It cannot be far from the truth that of the people who make up what politics is in Nigeria today, none appear to have a promise of good for Nigeria; the only glimmer of hope comes from the Minister of Information whose outcry has been unsettling enough for the entrenched forces to react.

Nigeria desperately needs people with a heart and mind for the country and its progress, none of those who speak for Nigeria today have shown themselves to possess half a thought for the great and glorious motherland.

It might well be left to a judiciary that hopeful is incorruptible, fair, just and credible to force the best leadership on Nigeria because our democracy leaves much to be desired.

Sources

BBC News - Nigeria ruling party wants Muslim leader for 2011 poll

allAfrica.com: Nigeria: Govs Stop Move to Oust Yar'Adua - North Retains President in 2011

allAfrica.com: Nigeria: Yar'Adua Can Walk, Talk, Eat – Brother

Al Jazeera English - Africa - Yar'Adua skips Nigeria meeting

In community in diaspora

Of family and presence

I was out in London last weekend on an important familial mission to celebrate a landmark birthday – the party was fun and we quite pleasantly enjoyed ourselves but it presented an unusual snapshot of Diaspora that I had not observed before.

A school hall had been booked for the event and it was commendable to see that the organiser had engaged the services of a functions arranger rather than take on the extraneous duties of doing this as we had done some 10 years before.

According to the invitation, the function was to start at 4:00PM and last till 11:00PM, obviously, I did not want to be first at the party and I also wanted to be inconspicuous if I could help it – by the time I was ready to leave for the party I thought I was running quite late.

I could never be late

Coming out of my hotel I flagged down a black cab for a 15 mile ride out to Essex without batting an eye lid, with my companion, the time was usefully occupied with watching the Cabvision in-cab television system as I tried to ignore the meter reading – in the end, it was less than what I had estimated it would be.

It was just before 5:00PM and we found that apart from the few guests, the party had not started at all, we should have known, even after all these years of Westernisation, African time still looms as a context of indeterminate meeting times rather than the fastidiousness of punctuality.

Dressed out of scope

People just make it in their own time, which meant things did not get into full swing till much later. In discussions before, I had asked about dress codes required for the party, I was of the opinion that traditional dress in London in February would have been paying homage to the god of ice – so I plumbed for the suit, new shirt, new tie and new shoes – I had been doing some shopping for the latter earlier in the day.

I quipped then about members of the Celestial Church of Christ who went unshod when in their soutanas - religious robes worn by all members - and wondered what they did in winter.

Well, I was wrong, the weather was quite mild and many arrived in their full flowing gowns, the ladies in their tops called buba and wrappers called iro, these being overlaid in toga-like fashion with a netting sort of material that is also used for the head tie known as gele.

In place of the iro, some wore a long shirt-like mermaid-tail bottom, all quite fashionable, I must say I am behind the times on the in-things. Very few were in Western attire though the men who wore suits or jackets all seemed to forget to undo the last button – sloppy dressing in my view but they all seemed to be in good company.

Time waits for all men

The event eventually started 210 minutes late and no apologies were given for that lateness as each reference to the starting time was jokingly considered 4 ‘o clock when in fact there were people who had arrived well before the time on the invitation – suffice it to say that for Nigerians, time is still not of the essence.

The agenda was full, prayers, exhortations and songs – in fact, I was amazed that the English praise and worship songs were no different from the ones I did sing some 20 years ago, there might have been a variation in the music but the lyrics remained ancient rather than modern.

The Yoruba songs sounded new and were quite predicable, it made one wonder if musical inspiration was lacking for congregational gospel singing.

Diaspora in divergence

More poignantly was the fact that a good 80% of the attendants might have spent 20 years in the United Kingdom and being successful and well-to-do did not necessarily reflect an element of the integration that should have had some indigenous looking guest amongst us.

It is probably not just peculiar to this gathering but likeness seems to engender communities and the safety of sameness means people seek out similarity rather than difference – this might well be a damning indictment of multiculturalism, but I was at pains to even find a non-South Western Nigerian amongst us.

A little mixed-race girl did reveal the odd miscegenation but her father was not amongst us, we might well have been back in Nigeria having this party and it would have made no difference.

The sames of change

The children all in the late teens or early twenties all spoke English, might well understand the lingua franca of their parents but their pronunciations drew great laughter; the question then becomes what really constitutes their roots and identity.

Apart from the songs, the odd proverb and the greetings – kneeling for the women and mock prostration for the men, we were Diaspora almost plucked out from our roots and left adrift.

We might all have changed but many things remain the same – aspiration is a good thing, academic excellence is still priced – the celebrant holds a PhD, responsibility is a badge of honour, the family is the centre of existence, integrity really matters, and people recognise that in others without dissimulation, the accents are still as strong as they have ever been and when it comes to partying we are still in the running.

The music came from a drummer with a talking drum and a keyboardist who had rigged up his system to produce our traditional music and two microphones where one projected his singular voice and the other gave the impression of many singing – I thought that was quite smart.

Order! Order!

God pervades the atmosphere to suffocation everything punctuated with Praise God as a call to order rather than an active exercise in praise, but we are seriously religious people.

When we had a prayer session, I could well have been in a traditional African initiated church only that the commands to prayer were said in English.

An overdue update

By the time the celebrant cut the cake and we all gathered round for photographs it was ready for the dance, enterprising business men around with dollar notes to be exchanged for pounds allowing for us to spray the celebrant and his wife – something I found myself compelled to do by reason of association.

It was an interesting update for me on how Diaspora has both changed and remained the same despite the number of years that have passed – it might be a reflection of me being a less than community person seeking to be more world citizen than a reflection of the peculiarities of close knit communities that are as integrated as they want to be in other aspects of life but retain a modicum of segregation in their social lives.

It was a beautiful evening.