A Full Yoruba Prostration in the Centre of Manchester

Seeking insight on sight

I found myself at the much improved Arndale Shopping Centre in Manchester where just 17 years ago on my very second visit to Manchester the IRA set off a bomb that had shards of glass fall on someone hardly 10 yards from where I was standing.

For a while, I have been thinking of my sight, the state of my natural eye-sight as compared to when I have my glasses on, basically, I have not had an eye-test since well before I fell ill, so I walked into an opticians to have a test with the hope that I will walk out with a pair of glasses in an hour – well, that is the spiel but nothing could be further from the truth.

Squinty eyes with puny pupils

In any case, the tests began with a check on the strength of my glasses, then what prescription might be right by peering into kaleidoscopic instruments that brought a colourful hot-air balloon into focus before jets of air were shot at my eyes to test my eye pressure.

Then, reading the charts where F, P and R or Y and V had you seeing one thing and thinking another, though it is better not to second-guess the system and let the natural sight guide you.

The light tests to observe the back of my eyes left the optometrist running the tests thrice before he decided my pupils were too small that I needed my pupils dilated with the help of rather stinging eye drops; this easily added another 45 minutes to a visit that I thought will not be over an hour and 15 minutes.

Choices between frames and types of lenses took their toll between avoiding the trendy whilst at the same time getting something fashionable and traditional enough to fit my generally conservative and typically formal look, I just about succeeded but my lenses were not in stock; which means another visit to Manchester in two weekends rather than having the glasses posted by mail without the benefit of a fitting in the shop.

I’m an Englishman

However, something more bizarre happened, a loquacious young man, well-dressed in a single-breasted suit with all buttons done up walked in apparently to fix his glasses and when he saw me he came over to ask where I was from. I already sussed he was probably Nigerian and Yoruba but I had to avoid being accused of sorcery.

The answer I always give to that question is, I am from many places, starting with my being an Englishman of Nigerian parentage. He scoffed at the idea that I might be denying my Nigerian heritage but the real story is I have spent almost two-thirds of my life outside Nigeria apart from the fact that I was not born in Nigeria.

The optician’s assistant who has Pakistani parents was also born in England and we stated that the fundamental difference between us and him was that he was naturalised whilst we were born here, it meant that he could lose his acquired British citizenship whilst we could never be denied our status by any organ of the state.

Undue familiarity

By which time, we had exchanged mobile phone numbers and he had learnt I could speak Yoruba and on realising I was over twice his age, he prostrated in typical Yoruba genuflection in the shop, I had to pick him up and tell him it was unnecessary.

At the back of my mind, the familiarity was getting concerning as he fawned in language and action towards me, suggesting I could become his new father he having lost his father only the year before.

From then on, he addressed me as daddy as we made to leave the opticians and walk out of the Arndale Centre.

Tales of convenience

A number of uncanny situations came up, I could not say if he was channelling me or he was genuine, as he fed off my answers to find affinity, like going to the same secondary school as I did though I had left long before he was born – now, the whole story on reflection does not seem to fit together if he is 23, he has lived in the UK since 2002 and he apparently finished secondary school in Nigeria.

In any case, he said he had just moved up to Manchester from Cambridge and when I said I lived in London, he averred that he once lived in Edgware.

As we conversed, I had a phone call from a friend that interrupted flow of communication though he seemed to be keen on talking over the conversation I was having on the phone.

The loaded invitation

I promptly ended the phone conversation and asked about Nigerian restaurants in Manchester, he offered that instead I come to his home where his wife who from his rather chauvinistic tone was available to cook and make homely meals for me and I could also have the opportunity to bless his new born son in more traditional ways than through Christian provenance.

It made me more uncomfortable that I was ready to tell him that I was too much a stranger to be invited to his home just like that.

No apple for this worm

Then I saw the toilets and politely excused myself to use the conveniences; by the time I came out he had disappeared, it was like a hit-and-run event, as if my break for toilets had interrupted a confidence trickster’s ploy to inveigle his way into my confidences and in turn relieve me of something that he might have wanted to use to his nefarious ends.

I was both relieved and strangely concerned but somewhat happy that I had been left to my own devices. I can only wonder what he can be up to and though I have his number, I will rather wait for him to call if he would, else, one can deem the encounter one of those where providence and good fortune have spared me much pain and the embarrassment of being used or worse abused.

But the ‘Coming to America’ moment was a classic, in the middle of Manchester, well away from the cultural hotpot of Yoruba civilisation, a man recognises the presence of an elder and prostrates fully in respect – let us not read too much into what the intentions or ulterior motives were – encounters like this are just as well the spice of life.

Was this respect on retrospect? I do not know.

Thought Picnic: Intentions suffused in communication

Communicating sarcasm

Sometimes the only tool one has to deploy against a situation that is veering between the embarrassing and the untenable is not force or wit but sarcasm, albeit understated.

The art of communication still remains an art in the choice of words, the choice of audience in anticipation of an expected outcome, unlikely as it might seem.

The system is no doubt broken by reason of the fact that if a process fails, there is nothing to take up the slack, no initiative proffered and responsibility falls through the gaping cracks as the problem festers without resolution.

Chance on this

One last ditch effort was a reminder with a half-finished sentence that I allowed to trail with the deft use of the ellipsis, I did not write another email after that but it got one furious, another acquiescent and then finally a helpful statement.

In the background, much as the project has useful remuneration, it was becoming ethically unhealthy to continue to take benefit for little even though the situation was no fault of mine and I intimated those that mattered on the looming decision.

Resetting the engine

Soon after, we were filling procedural forms anew, signed and delivered with a list of requirements and declarations, all in the hope that eventually something might just shift and the desired will be granted.

20 hours after, an email arrived with all the information that should have been supplied 4 weeks before and most of the access that was requested only the day before.

Hurray!

The process of analysis and documentation began, exploring the layout, accessing system and getting a clear view of one’s entire to which one will be called to support and assist in the great work ahead.

At the conclusion of a moon cycle, we have eclipsed the one-time insurmountable and one can presume a baptism of fire awaits the advent of the next sunrise at the coal face.

Great result, though if it were much earlier, the lesser angst one will have suffered.

Thought Picnic: Painful hours of nothing done

Waiting in vain

He is at the point where exasperation is plumbing the depths of incredulity as the simplest task is gaining layers of complexity that defies logic.

It is not rocket science if the people with the responsibility get on with it and do their jobs, but as one expects somebody to do the job, everybody thinks anybody can do it but nobody ends up doing it and with that comes email churn with all the traffic but not progress still.

No matter how much those who matter fume with anger and fury, there isn’t much one can do to tackle disinterest and indifference borne of petty rivalries played out by minions of an organisation.

Hours by nothing

Being brought up on the principle of dignity in labour and the honest application of self to duty for which one can be handsomely remunerated, it does not sit well to be present without the presence of productive activity to justify one’s keep even though the situation is no fault of the principal.

As the middle management ran around like headless chickens making some bend over backwards to the extreme to fulfil some fleeting purpose, contrast was drawn between one and the other.

Doing hours for nothing can somewhat be more painful than doing nothing for hours neither case is comfort for anyone, whether things will change is left to hope forlorn, they don’t work like we once thought they should.

Thought Picnic: Welcome to the global enterprise

Working out the system

Work environments present interesting challenges to people as they walk and first try to understand, then appreciate and maybe adapt to the way things are done.

Indeed, you meet new people and you engage them tentatively to decide how best you will be able to work together and hope that in that developing relationship you will either adapt and be subsumed or bring a new perspective to things that might just change things for the better.

In all the places I have worked, I believe the force of personality is crucial to making a useful impact whilst contributing to the team and work dynamic.

People over process

Many times, the situation is about people, the amenable, the amiable, the pliable, the misunderstood, the indifferent, the antithetical, the impossible, the eccentric, the genius and sometimes the sociopath.

Each needs a model of interaction that for me should appeal to the neutral if negative or make the best to accentuate the positive.

Working in the Information Technology industry, I know that there is much you can do with computers but I do not believe that basic management issues should be offloaded unto computing solutions when what is needed is a conversation, an email or some resolution where someone in authority has decided to assume their responsibilities and operate in the office that they occupy.

However, simple processes get unnecessarily complicated by people who politicise issues impeding the advancement and progress we all require to do our jobs whilst they think they are doing their effectively.

The politics of inertia

We get snowed under by puny power plays along with the constant avalanches of email that are a multitude of words and an absence of activity with the ones needing support left to wonder about the institutionalised dysfunction that has been allowed to fester to be the point of grinding everything to a halt and filling all reasonable people with utter exasperation.

You get to a point where the smartest thing is to allow the system to sort itself out else an email that is as forthright as it should be might well be the nuclear option to crack heads together, put boots in backsides, yield solutions but array enemies for a future encounter.

In the end, when your patience just about runs out, what needs to be done, needs to be done – welcome to the global enterprise.

Thought Picnic: Finding significance in our shared humanity

A multi-cultural person

I always find myself at the point where cultures conflict though it is not as obvious as it is for those of mixed race ethnicity.

However, I am grateful that the conflict is externalised rather than internalised but difference is accentuated in voice and reasoning, I will not give up either to conform because the wonder of being a product of the influence of many cultures is that rather than get pigeon-holed, you don't get placed, categorised or judged too harshly if you refuse to be subsumed into a dominant cultural experience.

The inspiration of circumstance

Why have I started this blog in this way? I just read of a second suicide of a university student in Nigeria that no one could attribute to anything – the stories concerning the two young men who took their lives are sketchy and peripheral and knowing how the dominant cultural expression thinks, it is unlikely that anyone will get to the bottom of why presumably promising, quiet and academically able young men will take their lives.

Now, this is where my difference is, I was born an Englishman, it has a strong imprint, part of my formative years were spent in Nigeria amongst people who were not on my tribe and culture and then my late teens were spent in the potpourri of diversity that you will find in post-secondary education.

Proud of all influences

I only had to speak and my accent betrayed a difference but when my dad said, I have always thought like a Westerner and my brother suggested I was not really one of the rest, though my sense of belonging was challenged the innate ability to adapt and thrive wherever I have lived has stood me in really good stead, I belong where I choose to belong.

Roughly, I have spent a third of my life in England, Nigeria and the Netherlands respectively, all with much that has influenced my outlook to life and the most important one for me is to be more understanding of people, their circumstances, their decisions, their persuasions and their sometimes unfortunate judgements that fuel moralising, sententiousness and intemperate attitudes.

Understanding matters

Again, we may never understand why those young men took their lives but knowing what I know now about many things that I have experienced and observed of our societies, we will need to tackle some taboo subjects to appreciate these issues better.

I remember too many instances where what I needed was just some care and understanding when I faced some psychologically threatening issues but the circumstances real as they were to me were dismissed with frivolity that you internalised turmoil and found some sort of attitude adjustment – solutions are not easy to come by.

Have I ever contemplated suicide? I have and many times, times when you hoped the ground will open up and swallow you than face a situation, the wrath or live through a circumstance because you were badly behaved, you had been violated, you were threatened or you were not performing as expected of you – I read a comment accompanying the news of the suicide – “Everything will fail you, but Jesus never fails. Try him today.”

Walk a yard in my shoes

Such hit-and-run philosophical musings are hardly helpful, as we approach the Christian Easter, we should remember that the Apostle Peter in the most trying times of his followership of Jesus Christ denied his master thrice and his master was not even dead yet, nor must we forget that Judas Iscariot was as much an apostle chosen amongst men who saw all that deeds and heard all the words and still he committed suicide.

We sometimes believe we know all things though many have hardly walked a yard in the shoes of another nor are we the embodiment of the total experiences of the many that we see around us. If we all told our stories to the detail necessary to sympathise or maybe even dare to empathise if we could, we would realise that the second, third or fourth man from us has probably seen more of life than we could ever have the capacity to face that we would faint at a fraction of what they have faced.

Good Samaritan aspiration

I wrote yesterday that I do not want to be a better Christian, I would rather be just a good Samaritan, there is much to that realisation. It is commonly said that we judge others by their actions and ourselves by our good intentions.

The Good Samaritan matched his good intentions with his actions, he dug deep into his humanity putting himself in the state of the wounded stranger and doing all he could do to help that stranger than the more religious people who left the stranger for dead.

I dare say that the more religion we profess, the more likely we would leave people for dead, judge their actions, find reason to castigate them, give foundation to our prejudices and boldly expound on our bigotries.

Let your humanity show through

The core of humanity is a different thing, it is not subject to any belief system it is just the heart connecting to that of another thinking this simple thing – If I were met with the circumstances the other person is in, what will I do and what will I hope others will do for me?

Our society suffering the turmoil of negativity of abuse, expectations, criticism, dangers, threats, mistakes and much else piles on pressures that the simplicity of words will not assuage, it is  involvement, engagement, listening, touching, hugging, understanding that some people need to see beyond their clouds – before you so readily judge and condemn, be aware that that invincible and inviolable man within you might just in the right theatre be like the person we have suddenly rubbished, excoriated and condemned with disinterest and indifference thinking we are being helpful.

In all that I have written here, I have not even begun to tackle the issues that I had to mind when I started this blog, let us read this as an introduction, there is much to talk about on these suicides – if anything, just say a prayer for anyone you have until now been unable to bless for reasons of your religious beliefs without which you might have been more understanding.

Thought Picnic: Real humanity transcends religious belief

My humanity

I have found that the greatest quest I face is understanding my humanity better and knowing the vocation that allows me to give it the best expression.

There are weaknesses I have that I have accepted as part of who I am and there are strengths I am learning to use to become more than I have even imagined I could ever be.

As I thought about this, I realised that in accepting what might be termed unusual by others but has become the norm of my personality and honouring the beliefs that others find difficult but are the clearest expression of humanity of have seen of the incarnate that melds the spiritual with the natural with mental agency, I am perfectly imperfect and incompletely complete.

Driven to strive

I am driven to achieve and attain being very aware of the fact that I can only do so much and what I cannot do, the means arrives to fulfil that much that I am caught in awe and gratitude of influences that urge me on to success.

My body and my spirit has always been at war, I have won and lost many battles unsure of whether victor or vanquished are either spirit or body because they are both me and beyond the long truces we must find peace, calm, accommodation and acceptance down paths than do not represent the journeys the majority tread in their own lives.

Humanity is greater than religion

This morning as prepared to attend church with all the obstacles thrown my way by circumstances well beyond my control, I persevered because within that fellowship laid an assurance of sustenance for my famished soul.

I could find no greater or profound statement than then ordinariness of this thought that I shared. I now realise I do not want to be a better Christian; I just want to be a good Samaritan. That is the embodiment of humanity that appeals to me most.

Thought Picnic: No ruins in hope

Out without rout

Three weeks ago I embarked on a journey to a little village, Ewloe  [fascinating Wikipedia story] with castle ruins of its own on North Wales, just west of Chester, a more significant city just on the border of between England and Wales.

It was not the easiest to prepare for, the contracts were finally signed just before the weekend though, I had just about set up banking facilities in the UK, having eventually acquired documents that included that essential proof of address that UK residents require to open a bank account.

Nothing is impossible

Then, there was the matter of getting there and the means to live there, tough, it was, as despair wrestled with hope that as I walked down a road to see some friends, I calmed myself saying things will turn out right completely oblivious of how things could really turn with the risk that I would not be able to take up the appointment.

The miracle of life and hope does have a way of bringing providence to those who refuse to worry as one also learns the subtle difference between the humiliation of begging and the humility of asking.

That one will not beg is not haughty and it is not the loss of pride when one asks I appreciated what I needed and I asked those closest to me if they could help.

All is possible

Out of their generosity, I found much, the ticket, accommodation, something to spare and enough to get by. It meant I could concentrate on what had taken me from the city to the country and hope for the best.

I only had enough for a week and a bit, within that, there were nights when a fast was as good as supper but I believed it will all turn out right because that is just that way journeys are, long, arduous, testing, trying, difficult, adventurous, fun and satisfying – there is a destination to get to not forgetting the prospect of a story to tell.

In the end, it was three weeks before I returned home, by which time I had paid all the bills and planned for the next four weeks.

It is called life

In my wake, I have shared of my somewhat ordinary and mundane story, the vagaries of what we all call life, it happens to all of us in different ways for all sorts of reasons, some known and many unexplained, but for those who decide they are in this life to live it, they begin to write for themselves a tale that has a unique voice of expression and fulfilment that hopefully encourages others to live their lives to the full.

As I returned to London this weekend without much time to meet up with the many I love and cherish, I spoke to most of them and met up with a few of them. They give me joy, the company is like an elixir of life, the sound of their voices bring calm to the clamour of nature and the thoughts of them makes one realise that life has great purpose that we must never fail to lose sight of.

In all, there is something I noticed hugs can do that words cannot be found to express; it heals the heart, nourishes the soul and maybe even warms the body.

I have friends like lovers, dear and good – for me, life is worth every single day and that is what matters.