Jerry Eze in Manchester

More Than an Internet Personality

A search for him on the web reveals that he is an internet personality, a description that barely captures who he is. He is the founder and lead pastor of Streams of Joy International and the convener of the New Season Prophetic Prayers and Declarations (NSPPD), a 7am online prayer broadcast that grew during the pandemic into a global movement across YouTube, Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and Mixlr. With the kind of following he commands, he is an arresting presence who has mastered the social media platforms to spread his message.

An AI-generated infographic on the blog content. (Click to enlarge.)

My scepticism had a particular source. I am no stranger to Pentecostal and Evangelical settings, and I have long followed English, Australian, and American "Word of Faith" preachers, whose cultural and social frame of reference I have grown accustomed to and readily taken in. This, however, is a specific brand of exuberant Nigerian Pentecostalism that I never encountered even during my years in Nigeria. A shared heritage does not always guarantee a shared instinct in worship.

Years ago, a friend sent me links to recordings of prayer sessions, both rowdy and cacophonous, in which I could not fathom what was going on. My sensibilities, broadly Anglican and attuned to the liturgical, would have felt criminally assaulted.

Yet this, I suppose, speaks to the mystery of a God who is as attentive in all our noise as He is in our orderliness. I should not be too much of an Englishman for God; I know that He understands, listens to, and answers Englishmen too.

Getting to Old Trafford

The venue for the NSPPD UK Prayer Conference [YouTube] was Manchester United's football stadium, commonly known as Old Trafford, and getting there was quite an ordeal. The buses were filled to capacity by the time they reached the second bus stop, so we had to board a tram. I spent the ride recalibrating our journey, and we opted to get off five stops earlier, since it proved the nearest stop to the venue on foot by that route.

We met up with friends, a couple I had not seen in forty years, and as we queued to gain entry to the grounds, we reminisced about our times of youthful religious innocence. I learnt that I was the one who had ministered to the husband when he gave his life to Christ some forty-one years ago. I simply had a recollection of where his conversion had happened.

A Feat of Organisation

On finding our seats in the stadium, we sat together, and from our vantage point the ground was almost at capacity on three sides, save for the area behind the stage. The whole setup was a logistical operation involving troops of security personnel, guides, ushers, helpers, and many more volunteers. It was a feat of organisational ability that left me quite impressed.

Something about the ministry of the man Jerry Eze suggests that prayers are answered, exemplified in big notices such as "We Dey Pray, E Dey Show" and "What God Cannot Do Does Not Exist." The first, in Nigerian Pidgin English, carries the sense that when we pray, the answers show; the second is the ministry's confident refrain that no situation lies beyond God's power.

This outfit caters for a broadly black audience, with a few attendees of other races. Patrons had travelled long distances for a touch of God through the ministration of this man.

Swept Up in the Sound

When the sound of praise and worship enveloped the stadium like a roar that would put an ecstatic football crowd in the shade, I was swayed by the sheer volume, and one could easily be caught up in the mass hysteria of congregational participation.

Most of the earlier songs were unfamiliar to me. I felt like an alien impostor, persuaded beyond my comfort zone to engage as I tried to appreciate this thing. The worship leader might have allowed the microphone to carry her singing voice to the speakers, rather than appearing to perform in a stadium yet losing out to sometimes unintelligible shouting. In fairness, the sound and acoustics did seem to improve as the event went on.

Another worship leader, apparently a Nigerian gospel singer, stirred my participatory enthusiasm at the prompting of old-time songs drawn from the recesses of my memory. Closed-caption signage, readable from my seat, could have helped, nearly as much as sign language would have. The default, as I saw it, was the ability to create a raucous din through the extreme exertion of voice and bodily movement, all for maximum effect.

Give Me Substance

The most impactful message I heard in this setting came in the lyrics of "Let It Show [YouTube]" by Kaestrings, partly excerpted below:

Give me substance,
Give me proofs,
Give me presence,
Give me You;

Give me substance,
Give me proofs,
Give me evidence,
Give me You;

Give me Your substance,
Give me proofs,
Give me fire,
Let it show that I met with You.

These words clearly identify with what this ministry is all about.

Yes, I was looking for ways to engage, even as I was overwhelmed by spectacle, performance, agitation, and vigorous incantation. It was so different to me that at times I was left a total observer, waiting to be shaken out of my stupor.

Prayers and Declarations

My concern was heightened as I heard many prayers and declarations with no punctuation, and no invocation of the name of Jesus except in the songs; as things progressed, however, we heard more in that respect. The many names of God were mentioned, but prominent in the list was El Roi, the God who sees me, first spoken by Hagar, an Egyptian servant to Sarai (Sarah) in the book of Genesis and the mother of Ishmael, Abraham's first child.

All the representatives who appeared on stage to take the microphone, regardless of how far afield they had come, including from Canada, prayed in the same almost riotous manner, one I had difficulty connecting with. It brought to mind the trigger behind the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, the three Hebrew men who refused to bow to King Nebuchadnezzar's golden statue. I simply imagined it as, "at the time ye hear the sound of the cornet, flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, dulcimer, and all kinds of music."

I concede that far more people are attuned to this environment than I am. It yields results, judging by the testimonies of impossible situations transformed and the amazing, mind-blowing stories of triumph in life and circumstance. I probably need a better interpretation of the goings-on.

Testimonies Before the Man

In the run-up to Pastor Jerry Eze coming on stage, some testimonies were shared. A few spoke of answers to prayer received at previous conferences, and others of breakthroughs that had come through attending the 7am meetings online.

These accounts appeared to steady the atmosphere and to remind the crowd why they had gathered. Whatever my own difficulty in connecting, the conviction in the room was plain, and the testimonies carried a weight that the spectacle alone did not.

Gospel Royalty on Stage

Three hours into the orchestrations and events, Pastor Jerry Eze was somewhere in the background, yet to be ushered to the podium, perhaps long after I had gone. Then Nigerian gospel royalty came to perform: Mercy Chinwo, the winner of the second season of Nigerian Idol in 2012 and now one of the most celebrated voices in Nigerian gospel, known for anthems such as "Excess Love" and "Obinasom." I know none of her music, yet even I could muster the swagger, deigning to move to it.

After her, Dunsin Oyekan, the worship leader affectionately called "The Eagle" and known for immersive songs such as "Fragrance to Fire", became like John the Baptist, preparing the way for the man of God.

That figures of such standing would grace his stage said something in itself. It lent a weight beyond the capacity crowd, and confirmed that Jerry Eze is a good deal more than an internet personality.

An Acquired Taste

At the fourth hour, Pastor Jerry Eze mounted the stage, first articulate in a call-and-response declaration over the dry bones in our lives, commanding them to rise to life and living, before we were led to see that the place we were in was too small and that we needed to break out. After being led in prayers to bare our hearts and souls to God, we were blessed by the preacher to celebrate the answers to our prayers.

Then it was testimony time, and we rose to leave. I heard that proceedings drew to a close barely half an hour after we departed.

In concluding this piece, my honest opinion is that Pastor Jerry Eze is an acquired taste; it has to grow on you. I am glad I attended, for it was revelatory, and I tried to remain as open-minded and receptive as I could, even where those long conversant with his ministry were plainly carried along and I was not.

This should not in any way diminish the wonder and miracles that others have experienced by attending this conference, for which the testimonies would tell of a God who sees me, where I am, and touches me in miraculously stupendous ways.

A Gemini Notebook AI Podcast on this blog

Opinion: Who owns the public conversation?

My view is gone

One thing I dread about social media spaces I do not control is the loss of views, opinions, replies, or comments I have posted to status initiated by others. You cannot control how others moderate their spaces whether they decide to edit, delete, or hide what you at one time publicly contributed to.

Obviously, one does not want to make a habit of journaling every comment posted, but the danger is there that if you contribute something substantial, you first have no control over the situation and might well lose it when you return to check if others have contributed, validated, or repudiated your comment, only to find that the whole post with the original thread has gone.

Who owns the public conversation?

I first became aware of this risk some years ago after a contribution to a post on Facebook that was soon deleted, there have been several instances of lost responses on Twitter, only yesterday, I was somewhat bereft when a show of support towards a broken relationship by relating my own personal experience was gone, the whole thing with the almost 200 comments attached.

It is very well the prerogative of any person to decide on what to post, entertain commentary, moderate participation, and consequently remove that post if they are so inclined. However, the question becomes when you have made a view public and people have contributed, in comments, views and responses, are you now the sole proprietor of that public commons to do as you wish without recourse to others who have engaged?

Again, this is not to remove autonomy or agency from the individual owners of social media spaces, if I have attended a party at someone’s place, the person can politely ask me to leave, however, what is indisputable is I attended regardless of what evolved at the party. Unfortunately, that imitation of life in social media is not readily present.

At the mercy of

The original poster might remove a posting and put a placeholder in its place indicating why the posts and comments were removed, but that would be an extended view of courtesy rather than a strict requirement. Then, thinking about this, there is the possibility that conversation landscape is reduced out of the fear of the possible loss of one’s voice in an engagement that we choose not to contribute substantially apart from post easy platitudes.

Alternatively, we keep a record of everything we have posted or offer a broader commentary in our owned spaces with a link in the comments where we would have posted to people to read our views. Obviously, if the original post is deleted, we still have our opinions intact, even if the apparent context and setting for that comment is lost. My reticence is triggered, I might well be less forward in contributing to other spaces.

Essential Snobbery 101: Mistakenly conferring pedigree on strays

Social media hit-and-runs

It is always fascinating what a presence on social media opens you to, random encounters of significance and insignificance, then ones that leave you checking on your temperament as to whether you should engage them at all, to the point that you are dispensing a piece of your mind that you will rather you never had.

On Twitter or elsewhere, someone reads your profile or a status and forms a presumably comprehensive idea of who you are, what you are, your personality traits, and much else. Nothing could be further from the truth, but that is how they deal with you, and that brief encounter could be both bruising and unedifying.

Without getting into any detail about some of those recent engagements with such people; the busybodies that cannot seem to mind their own business, you offer a response if you are that inclined and park their sorry arses into oblivion where they belonged all along, but for the chance that brought stray dogs to crumbs that fell under the table, for a moment pedigree fell on them like pearls cast before swine.

Seyi Omooba: A princess refuses to play her role

The acting of Celie

I have been following the case of Seyi Omooba, the actress or rather the actor as I have noticed the gender-specificity appears to have been taken out of the noun for the acting profession. She was to have taken the lead role of Celie in a stage production of The Colour Purple until it was found that sometime in the past written view on Facebook that called into question her ability to take on the role.

Apparently, the role of Celie does have some same-sex attraction and it is left to the director to decide how that is interpreted and the actor to give that the best expression possible that the audience will suspend belief and be absorbed in the depiction and quality of the performance. That is what actors do, it does not make actors the roles they play in real life.

The mind of Seyi

Ms Omooba, however, wears her religion on her sleeve and that appears to come before her vocation for which she was by all terms fully qualified to do, for that is why she auditioned and was selected to play Celie. She was not minded to play the part as she had said on a Facebook post that, “I do not believe you can be born gay, and I do not believe homosexuality is right, though the law of this land has made it legal doesn't mean its [sic] right.” [BBC News: Seyi Omooba: Actress sacked over anti-gay post loses legal fight]

Now, Ms Omooba is entitled to her views and beliefs, we live in a free country, what she believes to be right is her prerogative and that is fine by me, even if those views question the essence of my being and that of the broader LGBTI+ community, or that of any other person. Prejudices abound, what matters is the ability despite our persuasion, that difference exists and that is the way the world is. We can all live our lives happily respecting that.

The princess throws a strop

Having expressed those views way back in 2014, they had not changed when she took on the role of Celia and Ms Omooba was going to depict the role within the constraints of her worldview making no allowances for either directorial discretion or that of the author of The Colour Purple. At which point it was decided she was incompatible with the role and the theatre seeking an amicable settlement offered her unconditionally full salary to walk away, but she was not going quietly.

She took the case to tribunal seeking substantial redress and compensation, supported by a fundamentalist religious organisation founded by her father and has lost.

It has not escaped my notice that the name Ọmọọba is Yoruba for the child of a king, suggesting prince or princess, we still have gender roles in royal titles. Her father is both a religious and community leader who has been honoured with an MBE for his community work whilst being strident homophobic, but we can separate the issues, it does not make him any less worthy of honour.

The choices she made

His princess, fully imbued with the teachings of her father needed to work in a rather different environment that offers equality of opportunity and the acceptance of diversity, but chose to use her inability to adapt to a different environment to play the victim of discrimination, thankfully, she could not play the race card because it is very likely the role that once went to Whoopi Goldberg in the 1985 film directed by Steven Spielberg and had Quincy Jones as one of the producers would most definitely have gone to another African American.

This is what Ms Omooba had to say on the website of Christian Concern, “When I received the email that I was going to be dropped from the cast, I was heartbroken. The agency told me that I would receive financial compensation, but I am not in this for the money. For me it’s not about the money or my face – it was about telling and expressing Celie’s story, as I interpret it as a performer, because that is what I love to do.”

“Yet the theatre and the agency gave me the choice of either losing my career or renouncing my faith. I could not do this, not even to save the career that I love.” [Christian Concern: Seyi Omooba]

No, sweet child, you cannot unilaterally interpret a role divergent from what the director requires the role to be. Celie’s story was written in 1982, was depicted on film in 1985 and there is a musical remake to be released in 2023, society and norms have so moved on. [Wikipedia: The Colour Purple (Film)]

The choices they made

Yet, much as this might have been a career-boosting opportunity, no one was asking you to choose between your faith or your career, you made that choice. Your career was not ending, you created the circumstances for questioning if you were suitable for the role and whether you could be represented by your management agency. As the lawyer for the agency stated at tribunal, “Her comments had so adversely affected her future employability that her contract with Global was ‘an empty vessel.’” [The Telegraph: Actress Seyi Omooba loses tribunal claim over her dismissal from The Color Purple]

It would appear rather than for the common good, you took the selfish and unchristianly stance to jeopardise the fortunes of the theatre ready to compensate you and the management agency about to lose clients because of what you chose to represent; prejudice, bigotry, entitlement, and intransigence.

The opportunity she did not embrace

Her troubles began when in 2019, after she was announced as the lead for The Colour Purple, a member of the cast of Hamilton, Aaron Lee Lambert asked on Twitter, with a caption of her Facebook post, “Do you still stand by this post? Or are you happy to remain a hypocrite? Seeing as you’ve now been announced to be playing an LGBTQ character, I think you owe your LGBTQ peers an explanation. Immediately.”

@Seyiomooba Do you still stand by this post? Or are you happy to remain a hypocrite? Seeing as you’ve now been announced to be playing an LGBTQ character, I think you owe your LGBTQ peers an explanation. Immediately. pic.twitter.com/GK2xbzZYgy

— Aaron Lee Lambert (@aleelambert) March 15, 2019

Ms Omooba did not answer to the issue for months and the theatre seeing the public relations disaster brewing had to take measures to both save the production and their enterprise when it became apparent that she was not ready to temper her views. In the comments that followed the tweet, it was revealed she had recently refused to appear in a pride video along with members of the cast of another production she featured in. Besides, she had before appeared in a concert version of The Colour Purple.

She had no case, just trouble

Laid out in those terms, it was unlikely Ms Omooba had any intention of playing or depicting any of the LGBTQ aspects of the Celie character, one cannot suggest what presumably chaste component she would have brought to give the role a meaningful interpretation in consonance with the original writing.

The tribunal ruling against her demands for compensation for loss of earnings, future losses and reputational damage concluded, “If there is damage to her reputation, it was not caused by being dropped from the production but by an unconnected person's tweeting... of her Facebook post and the outcry resulting from that.” [BBC News: Seyi Omooba: Actress sacked over anti-gay post loses legal fight]

We all have to live with others

My takeaway from this case is simple, you are free to have whatever views you espouse, but the moment you publish them, they are on the record for a public and global audience that extends well beyond the community that would fully agree with our opinions that it is necessary that the expression of such views do not become a future impediment to progress.

Bigotry, prejudice, hypocrisy, lies, unkindness, hate, inhumanity no matter how reasoned our positions are do not win laurels, they eventually become burdens unintended and consequential.

Religious intransigence in a liberal and secular environment is the harbinger of notoriety and personal grief. Your beliefs exist within constructs, never in a vacuum. Ms Omooba accepted the construct that homosexuality is legal, and much as she could comment on the rightness or the wrongness of the law, she chose a moralistic dimension that set her apart from the profession and broader society that had made accommodations for living and let live, it became her undoing.

Within fundamental Christian circles, Ms Omooba might be lauded and celebrated for her courage and integrity, that is probably where she can ply her trade, in the cohort of those who believe the same way as she does. However, if she needs an audience to her art and talent beyond that setting, the change will have to happen to her, though she might well think it is the society that needs to bend to her will. That is her hill if she chooses to die on it.

You don't need to have a say

A traffic jam of events

Activity on Social Media can easily make you lose focus. I am most active on Twitter, unusually prolific on my blog, with at least a blog a day for 90 days. I do not do as much on Facebook, though The Nigerian Nostalgia 1960 -1980 Project which is a private group is quite a resource of personal, community, and national histories. Instagram requires my capturing something of interest on my phone camera and adding a caption to it.

There is a lot going on around us, the Coronavirus pandemic still rages with all the restrictions keeping us all in our huts even in this global village. Police impunity in Minneapolis has kindled civil unrests all over America with sympathetic activities around the world. Racism remains a pox on our humanity, accepting occasional palliatives but somewhat impossible to eradicate.

In Nigeria, we are counting with horror gender-based violence girls, ladies, women shot, raped, and murdered. Everything is coming in like a torrent and this is by no means an exhaustive list of things too concerning to ignore.

Discriminate and select

The world seeks a different kind of leadership that there are no men to step up to and provide it. Egos colliding with machismo leaving needless deaths in their wake.

One can be tempted to pitch in here and contribute there, lending a voice or opinion, doing the minimum to appear engaged whilst not committing to much, the ease of being a keyboard warrior is a salve to the conscience, giving a sense of satisfaction on the basis of good intentions.

I have tried not to attempt to spread myself thin on any of these issues, the matters on which I could offer a useful viewpoint I do my best. Not everything needs my contribution, there are other flagbearers with better thought out perspectives, it is not a competition to find relevance or validation. There is a modicum of sophistication avoiding the ‘Rent-a-view’ bandwagon.

Manage what you take in

The wisdom to it all is to have a filter, some discernment exercising caution with healthy scepticism, trusting your judgement and testing every assertion with reliable and reputable sources. It is critical not to be swallowed up in the miasma of the unrelenting news cycle or be dangerously led astray with bizarre conspiracy theories as there are many seeking the gullible to deceive.

“They who can make you believe absurdities; will make you commit atrocities.” Voltaire. Be alert and be on guard.

It's never too late to commend an old colleague

Farm your social media wisely

Social Media is an intricate relationship and networking environment that needs nurturing much as it needs to be weeded and pruned like a vine so that it can bear much fruit for good wine.

Well over a decade ago, I attended an interview for the role of a technical specialist, it was going well and during that interview, I was promoted to the role of a technical architect. On the first day of work, it appeared everyone else who had been engaged thought I was one of the juniors in the team. It was no time to be a diva, these were people I needed to get the job done.

So, I mucked in with everyone, did and the simple and difficult whilst taking the time to teach, explain, mentor, educate as required. I was also on a postgraduate programme at the time.

Invisible acts for visible benefits

One particular young man, somewhat introverted and quiet stood out for the talent of being able to produce efficient, time and cost-saving tools that helped us a great deal. In my view, it was one of the most valuable members of the team, even if for whatever reason others did not recognise how his utilities considerably raised the productivity of the team.

After I left that the role, I never encountered someone who had significantly changed the team dynamic that way he did, and I did not seem to be presented with an opportunity to commend him and recommend him.

Never too late for a commendation

However, this evening, as I was reviewing my profile, I saw that he had visited and I could not have had a better chance to pen a few sentences down about our working relationship, because there had to be a record. That is what I did which initiated a conversation and a sanguine trip down memory lane.

If the opportunity presents itself, I will willingly work with him again, much as there are others I would love to be on my team. I have worked in many places in the last 20 years, encountered hundreds of people with various levels of expertise and camaraderie, but the few that stand out, do because they were good people first and good at what they do, and in doing what they were good at, helped everyone else get things done better, faster, and beautifully.

Of those people, we must when given the opportunity, speak up for them, support them, commend them, provide glowing references, and promote them. We can see the best of humanity in the work environment and celebrate it too.

Thought Picnic: On the attraction of blogging

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Blog rehousing woes

Reflecting on my 16 years of blogging I dug into some analytics of my blogs, followers of the second incarnation of my blog for it first hosted on the blog-city.com domain from 2003 and I had to move each blog, brick by brick from mid-2010 to the Blogger platform, when this local blog hosting company decided they were having no more fun with blogging.

Blog - Brick by heavy brick

I had a transition period of about 18 months, until the domain closed in January 2012, it was a punch in the gut and left me with a terrible experience from altruistically supporting small businesses that provide services I might need.

The old blog hosting site did not have a migration or export facility I could use to move my blog and I could not allow the accumulated work of over 7 years to be lost. Though, I did lose readership, followership and statistics for the blog that was at the time registering about a million views a month.

Old bloggers just memories

The migration process was also imperfect, many of the blogs retain link references to locations that no more exist. I only get to review those links when informed or when I retrieve one from the archive that I check before sharing.

Now that the blog has been on the Blogger platform, I acquired a domain name in 2010 and ensured there was a bit of portability, just in case Google decides hosting blogs is no more fun. I hope not.

One aspect of the blog analytics that saddens me is the number of linked followers to my blog who are no more blogging again. I visited some that were extinct, the other apparently live ones had not been updated since somewhere between 2010 and 2012. Only two were actively posting something, whilst one endured to early 2016.

The live blogs also had links to other blogs I used to read from the mid-2000s, many now with dead links or in the state of hibernation for years. It made me wonder why people are blogging no more. Apart from those who blog for influence or business, the art of blogging for leisure, having stories, experiences or insights to share has been lost to other micro-blogging or less intensive unstructured forums.

Distractions and attractions

I can say that my engagements on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram might have affected my prolific blogging output, but it has not led to my abandoning blogging altogether. The other social media platforms have their purposes and they cannot entirely replace blogging.

I believe we need more blogging not less, more perspective to life, stories that we can relate to told in a unique voice, style, and fashion, all contributing to the amazing tapestry of our diverse humanity. People also ask how they can begin blogging, but never follow through, some think it is difficult to blog, but I beg to differ.

A blog written on the fundamental basis of where you are, what you see, how it affects you and what you might have learnt, is already four paragraphs of information that can turn the mundane into the very interesting, that is a great attraction, the simplicity of writing a story.

Just a few things to note, a spelling checker is necessary, a grammar checker can be useful, always acknowledge and attribute anything that is not your original thought, it does not take away from your perspective, and give it your best shot.

I sometimes read some of my old blogs and wonder if I wrote them and what might have possessed my fingers as they typed out the musings bordering on the insane. Some are funny and others just strange. I still derive much pleasure from blogging, though the promise to do more never really happens.

It's my prerogative

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In the same vein

Over the last few weeks, I have written a few blogs on parent-child relationships because I have had to run the gauntlet of issues that are probably not unique to just myself.

It was only eleven days ago that I blocked my father on both Facebook and Instagram because I think he crossed the line from participating in my social environment into interfering with it. Some might think that was a drastic step to take, but I did not second-guess that matter, I was incensed and riled up about it, I had no other alternative than to take that action.

Then in conversation with one of my best friends, we discussed how I should have cut him a bit of slack, it is probably excusable that he confused my life with his views of a lifestyle, conflating them in misunderstanding the differences and by that overstepped the bounds of matters that are particularly mine alone and no one else’s.

Between life and lifestyle

Life is an encompassing issue that engenders the participation of every aspect of a person, in living, in livelihood, in relationships, in the community, in society and whatever area of endeavour. In life, you live, you love, you face options, you make choices, decisions can be life-changing and it could be quite different from the norm. But one person's norm might well be the abnormal of another, which is why we find accommodations and the openmindedness to live and let live.

When a person finds love and a relationship with another regardless of gender pairing; whilst it might court controversy, that is life in action, not the passing fad of a lifestyle. There are hearts, minds, bodies, and souls engrossed in this unique journey of soulmates. You cannot for the want of conformity complicate or upend the life of another to satisfy the wishes of some construct or societal mores.

Too many people have been hurt by unsavoury, imposed, or unwelcome matchmaking in the hope that something might blossom out it. Just that you think someone is good from your perspective does not mean, that is the best match for the person you think you're helping get hitched. It works for some, it is not the solution for many, we have just one life to live than to grin and bear it with misery, trying to adjust to the requirements of others when your persuasion and inclination is completely different from what they hope for or expect.

That’s my prerogative

I would spare people the agony of living through the experience of seeing the alien expressed on my living and online persona, why bring them so much grief? The liberal use of the block with that in mind does not seem that cruel or drastic anymore.

I hope to afford my parents, my relations, my friends, my acquaintances and interested persons along with complete strangers the opportunity to participate in my social media world, however, if the said participation slips inadvertently into policing my activities; I would without hesitation put a stop to that participating without recourse for appeal or redress.

My social media space is my fiefdom, if you violate the unwritten rules of respect and circumspection, you will be excluded, no matter how close you are to me. That is completely my prerogative and it would not be yielded to another for review. Just let me live.

This is my life, this is me

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Things I would not brook

There are a few places where I would brook no intrusion, the violation of my space and where I am being treated with disrespect. In both cases, I would tend to take remedial action before my dignity, integrity and sense of well-being suffer.

Only a few months ago, I welcomed a close relation to Facebook and even celebrated it with a blog as I usually write about the serious and the mundane. In my writings, I could sometimes be circumspect or nuanced but never misunderstood.

I have a broad social media presence from the professional, which is LinkedIn to Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and my blog in order of longevity. I used to have my tweets automatically feed into Facebook, but that facility was removed my Facebook over a year ago. I, however, do have my Instagram posts feed directly into Facebook and Twitter.

My decisions, my terms

In the space of just under three months, I am back in South Africa for business as much as for leisure, my previous visit gave me an opportunity that I wanted to explore further including the accident of meeting someone with whom we agreed to begin a relationship together.

Whilst I appreciate my life straddles the old world and the new, an age of ignorance through into one of enlightenment, I can understand some people like some of my parent's generation would get left behind even if technology forces them to interact with a world quite radically different from the one in which they had been raised.

For over three decades I have made my own decisions in terms of my expression, my career, my choices, my partners and much else. I am grateful to many who have encouraged, supported, celebrated, and rewarded me as my journey of life has become a tapestry of stories. I would easily make friends rather than enemies, my philosophy is for the peaceful coexistence of living and letting live.

Ancient and modern in one life

Social media provides a platform of varied expression, I have neither stepped away from controversy nor frankness of view, in many cases, I would either mind my own business or keep my counsel. It allows for you to make acquaintances with the broadest range of opinions, ideas, people and things, knowledge is a good thing, and understanding how to use it is a better thing.

Then, last night, I had to run the gauntlet of this comment posted to a status that was fed to Facebook from Instagram. I have edited the text from a proofreader’s perspective, but the context and the import remain unchanged. “The earliest you make a good change in your lifestyle the better, it is not too late. All the best.” This, without doubt, came from someone who I can sympathise has my interests at heart, God bless them, as much as it is intrusive and completely unnecessary.

This is not a lifestyle, this is life

I can only guess as to what aspect of my lifestyle is being referred to as in the old world, the expression of sexuality is a lifestyle choice as opposed to an innate state of being that professionals and a growing public, a majority of whom are in the West have now better understand with systems and processes put to place protect the rights and liberties of people who have a sexual orientation not common with the majority populace.

Indeed, if this were a lifestyle, it would have been easy to adopt another, and as one wrestles with the issues and complexities of extracting oneself from influences and travails of that lifestyle life stopping smoking or the consumption of alcohol one can find better outcomes in life. Sexuality is not a lifestyle, it is a lived experience that in childhood has left any confused and conflicted, as one grew you questioned your sanity and normalcy whilst secretly seeking some expression of it, unsure of whether there was anyone else like you.

If you came from a religious background, that worsened your sense of unease, you’re found in a cycle of seeking cures for ailments that do not exist. The psychological trauma, angst, and guilt weigh heavily on you. Even if you live in countries where the freedom to express yourself exists, you still find you are not really that free and those of a heterosexual persuasion have been in the main.

Coming to terms with my own struggle

You find common cause with others like you and grow in confidence within communities you have formed to promote your interests, the need to be who you are without fear of persecution or violence in every sphere of life has been achieved in some societies whilst it is criminalised in others.

Something natural happens, someone comes into your life offering companionship beyond friendship, a life of happiness and support with fulfilment. We all have the capacity for love regardless of gender pairing or sexuality. I dare say, that is celebrated in some instances and condemned in others. I could have satisfied the needs of my society to follow certain heteronormative choices, found a girl, married, had children, and lived a lie, but I didn’t.

I made a solemn oath to myself that I would not complicate another person’s life with my issues, they are tough enough to deal with without messing up other lives living on the down-low. Imagine my difficulty, I once had a relationship that lasted 7 years, but never could share with my family, my happiness and fulfilment.

Then another who I so loved and might have had the opportunity to build a life with died suddenly, neither could I share my bereavement and sorrow with my family in the middle of recovering from cancer. I am sorry, these experiences are not lifestyle choices, they are long and enduring events of my life.

It is life, it might be different, it might be unconventional, it is not a disorder and definitely not a lifestyle. Being homosexual is NOT a lifestyle.

My life is mine to live

I sympathise with those who would have preferred a parallel universe of assumed norms for me, but that universe would contain the same diversity. You do not choose your sexuality; your sexuality is part of who you are whether you decide to express it and live your life to the full or conceal it and live a limited version of yourself.

I have been circumspect, I have not been out to everyone I have encountered, some of my family do already know, others, it is on a need-to-know basis. At work, from as far back as the 1990s, I have not concealed the fact that I am gay or in a relationship, I have been respected for my candour and have never been adversely affected by the revelation of it. Amongst most of my managers, I have found allies. I am grateful for all that.

In this season, I found love, and I intend to pursue it fully for my happiness and well-being, it is part of why I returned to South Africa, to meet up with my new love and explore the opportunities we can have of life together. I do not intend to live in the shadows about this and I can understand it would make some uncomfortable. I am not here to live the life and expectations of others, but my own life and the happiness that fortune has gifted me in the process.

In view of the comment that was posted to my Facebook status which was a second infraction of what I would not brook being violated, I made one decision, if the person who feels so concerned about my lifestyle disapproves of it, it is best to spare them the inconvenience of my social media persona as a happy gay man with his partner. This is my life, this is me, and I will not sacrifice it for anyone. I have blocked the said person on all my social media accounts, that person is my father.

A Decade on Twitter

A quarter of a century online

I review my life on social media that appears to go back 25 years when it was not a popular term. My first email address in 1994 and then a CompuServe subscription through which I participated in Usenet groups.

When I moved out to Ipswich in 1995, I found an Internet Service Provider (ISP) who I discovered unilaterally blocked adult websites. I paid him a visit and demanded that as an adult, my access to the Internet should be untrammelled, including the ability to view adult sites, as I am an adult and I do not intend to be policed if I am doing nothing illegal.

I guess he was embarrassed for the fact that I was unabashed, my request was granted that evening and he must have glad I did not have to visit him about anything again.

Throwing off and throwing down

Soon, we were on Internet Relay Chat (IRC), I think that was 1997, opening channels for all sorts of interests until people found ways to exploit vulnerabilities in the TCP/IP stack and knock you offline with DoS/DDoS attacks or those that broke IRC connections, called nuking. We had to implement countermeasures to prevent nukes and the takeovers of IRC channels.

As the popularity of IRC began to wane in the early 2000s, I was in a Berlin hotel when decided to start blogging in December 2003. I hope to have written my 3,000^th blog sometime this year. It was not for another few years before I joined another social media platform. In my early blogging years, I formed significant and lasting friendships from which I began to grow a social network.

Along the line, I joined other niche social media networks, many of which have fallen out use, favour or are dead. Then came LinkedIn, which many did not consider social as in other forums we participated in, I guess, we compartmentalised, trying to keep our strictly professional lives separate from our lives outside work. I have been a member since the 16^th of March 2006.

Can you hear the chirping birds?

One morning just before I left for work, I created a Twitter account and waited for a confirmation. Meanwhile, I travelled to Arnhem where I was working, and it was there that I posted my first tweet on the 8^th of February 2009. Today is a decade since I joined Twitter. As I relayed in a blog, I wrote a couple of days ago, I had to change my mode of communication from long-form writing of a blog to the contextualised concision limited to 140-characters. It was a challenge I took on with relish.

Blog - Tweeting beautifully without apologising for it

I might have been more prolific on Twitter and somewhat become less so on my blog, I have tweeted just under 153,000 thousand times with a following just short of 6,000. I find it a very useful forum for sharing ideas and for getting a prompt and effective response for customer service issues.

A call from beyond

In December 2009, just a couple of days before my birthday, I joined Facebook. I probably resisted jumping on this bandwagon for years. My first invitation to join Facebook came almost two years before when I eventually joined the person who invited me had been dead just over 9 weeks. His Facebook page then became a memorial to lay wreaths and bouquets of thoughts and reminiscences at different times of the Facebook.

Facebook also upended the concept of social media, because the network not only exploited proximity, it allowed you to mine your past. By the time you put in names of your old schools and old friends, many long forgotten, you were caught in a time vortex from which you had little an inkling how to escape.

Mimes and rhymes

Until early last year, most of my Facebook activity came from my Twitter posts and that linked was broken. I would comment on things I find on Facebook, but it is more likely that new posts would come from Instagram or blogs that I have written. I joined Instagram on Christmas Eve of 2014.

Most of my Instagram posts are accompanied by bad poetry or musings about the things I have observed. I have not convinced myself that Pinterest or SnapChat would add any value to my social media landscape. My social media life is lively enough as it is.

This all because of my decade on Twitter and long may we have the opportunity to celebrate life, happiness, love, and the freedom of expression.

Your father is on Facebook

Yes, it is him and no one else

This question came from my sister this morning.

“Morning (or whatever), Is your father now on Facebook or one of his sons is impersonating him?

To which I responded, “Your father is on Facebook.”

Even I was surprised that he was on Facebook, but the story goes back to some time ago when I was trying a get a laptop over to my dad. The last few months have involved a lot of impromptu travel related to work that it has been impossible to plan anything.

Time, space and wherewithal

On another note, I sometimes contrast my professional life to that of my father, he was a corporation man with assistants and people he could call upon to do the somewhat important and mundane things. Almost 23 years of my working life has been as a self-employed and freelance consultant, maybe, if I had entered a partnership of consultants, we would have employed an office manager to handle affairs like that.

Then, in arranging to send the laptop, he also asked for a phone making the point that he wanted to have a go at technology before he departs.

An unexpected response

As it transpired, I took a few pictures yesterday evening and posted to Instagram with a cross-posting to Twitter and Facebook, I also included a short poem.

The absence of bright lights,
Does not diminish the clear sights,
My face showing the provenance of my father,
Especially now that I've refused to lather,
The unshaved greys are proof of a youth,
Before you say I am long in the tooth,
For many times I was addressed as young man,
I laughed for that was just another fan.

On Facebook

Shortly after it was posted, I received a message with two pictures of my dad from my brother, who then informed me that the pictures were my dad’s reaction to my pictures and poetry. And there was my discovery that my father had joined social media to be engaged under the tutelage of my brother.

Welcome to Facebook

Obviously, my sister is concerned that she might have to temper her views because of the scrutinising pair of eyes of her father. However, I am of the view that if he did not know we were opinionated, forthright, controversial and frank in our postings, he would soon find out on Facebook, and that is a good thing.

He would be proud to know that the privileged education we all had has not gone to waste, we can discuss, debate, argue and banter, with grace, erudition and dignity.

My father is 78, he lives an active life pottering around on his farm or being actively involved in the community. Now that he has the added occupation of Facebook engagement, all I can say is welcome.

For all who care to know, our father is on Facebook.

Thought Picnic: Addressing irresponsible Facebook communication

Good manners still matter

I have at times had the misfortune of learning of the death of someone known to me on social media, however, I have hoped that the closest relations of the deceased did not suffer the indifference and insensitivity of being informed through the same medium.

It is just good manners to inform the bereaved on a more personal basis rather than have them collide with a wall of grief from a public and impersonal medium. Besides, I take cognisance of my cultural affinities that suggests news of deaths must never be conveyed with bluntness to the closest relations of the deceased either in informing them or in enquiring from them.

Wisdom and sensitivity applied

I remember a conversation I had with a close uncle over a decade ago, he did not know if I was aware that a cousin of mine had passed on, he did not blurt it out, rather he made a passing reference to my cousin that would have elicited a response or a question from me. The response would have indicated I knew, the question would have suggested I was oblivious to the death and then he would with wisdom settle me down before telling me.

I am writing this blog because after the episode yesterday, it is necessary to revisit the matter because I am quite incensed and annoyed. Another uncle of mine should have known better to be smart and wise about enquiring of me from my sister without putting them in unnecessary and preventable distress.

Blog - Please, confirm is it true that Akin Akintayo is no more ...?

Utterly inexcusable conduct

I appreciate social media provides such ease of communication, the ease is no license to dispense with discretion, manners, decorum, sensitivity and empathy, all of which in my view was lacking from the question asked yesterday that it is contemptible and should be excoriated in the sternest terms.

Nothing makes the act of that distant relation uncle forgivable in the slightest, it was utterly irresponsible and reprehensible conduct. I have elderly parents, I would not want to predecease them, even as I am aware of my vulnerabilities and mortality.

The excuse is not social media or Facebook, it is just plain uncouth behaviour and bad manners channelled through a medium of expression.

The ease that social media grants for communication is neither license nor permission to be indiscreet, inconsiderate or uncultured.

— Akin Akíntáyọ̀ (@forakin) April 17, 2018

Angels and strangers roam on Twitter

Stranger than fiction

“I know you well enough from Twitter! You need a good rest!”

This was an assessment of my Twitter activity given by someone I did not know was following me. A complete stranger who last night saw the predicament I was in having missed the last train to Manchester because of a late-running train from Norwich into London.

As I was being played irresponsibly like a political ball of railway franchise ping-pong between Virgin Trains that would have handled the London – Manchester leg of my journey from London Euston Station and Greater Anglia Trains that handled Norwich to London part that ran 45 minutes late, leaving me less than 20 minutes to make the tube journey between London Liverpool Street and London Euston. I faced the prospect of a night on the streets somewhere in London.

The best Virgin Trains could offer me was a supplementary ticket to travel in the morning, the alternative being a train to Wolverhampton some 75 miles from home. Between Greater Anglia Trains and Virgin Trains, considering I bought the ticket from the latter’s website, they should have arranged a means to me to my destination or accommodation for the night. Neither tried hard enough, it took the easy road without informing me of my rights.

Good Samaritan values

I learnt through my conversation with Virgin Trains that Euston Station closes at 1:30AM, but the King’s Cross St. Pancras Station is open overnight with some coffee and food shops open too.

Making for King’s Cross, my stranger friend asked me to come over on Uber, I was in more straitened circumstances than to take up that offer and I thanked him and bid him goodnight. He did not relent, over the next 90 minutes, he enquired about my welfare, my whereabouts and much else, my assurances not deterring him.

Then, he said he was coming to get me, he drove over from Putney in South West London and brought me back to his home which he shared with his wife and two friendly dogs. I had some mint tea and retired to the spare bedroom along with information for connecting to their wireless network.

Consideration and more

Between daring and trust, I slept well and I woke up to a breakfast, meeting his wife and a discussion that covered as many topics as we found interest to think about. When we arrived at his home at just before 3:00AM, he dipped his hand in his pocket and gave me some money, saying he did not want me to think about that issue.

I got dressed and I was given a lift to Putney Station, I arrived at London Euston Station in time to catch the noon train to Manchester. Fred is a friend, a friend indeed, to me he was an angel, kindly, generous and exceedingly considerate.

Our encounter came from certain views, expressions or opinions I have posted on Twitter, whatever that was, he decided to follow me and by that, out of the blue, on a day I desperately needed help, he was there to offer more than I could have imagined or wished for.

He was a stranger to me, I was no stranger to him, my Twitter conduct had made enough an impression to have him accord me the offer to spend a night at his home. Invariably, your conduct and conversation on social media matters, friends and enemies observe you, the family sees you, angels and strangers notice you.

Thank you, Fred, for your kind-hearted, magnanimous and generous friendship, I am in deep gratitude to you. Thanks.