Thought Picnic: Closing the chapter on dead love

Stuck in the heart of the past

Now that I think about it, I have really decided to move on as for almost a decade my mind and soul was stuck in grief and mourning, regret and longing, a helplessness at the inability to make any difference to the hand that fate had dealt me in terms of meaningful companionship.

Along the line, I confused attention for commitment, strained at every possible attachment as if it had some mileage for life and fun. I was either reading the wrong signals or a bad judge of intentions and character. It might well be said, none were going to be good enough in the end.

I made accommodations that liberally expanded my acceptance of things my somewhat life of moderation and conservative consumption would never condone of myself. I battled with my conscience where disdain had to be tempered with the consideration that other lives can never be like how I choose my vices and limit my excesses.

I was never going to seek a high that left me out of my senses, much as I could have been adventurous, I doubt I belong to the cohort of the ‘try anything once’ kind. I had my red lines, I never crossed them.

I constantly guarded my heart

What I had for Chris was deep, yet it was unhealthy, I invested more than I ever got return for in every way, yet in that person was the idea of fun and love, possible life and adventure, maybe deeper love, and affection, but there were many times I had to withdraw to keep my heart from harm. Death brought sadness and regret that lasted years, of what could have been if I dared, I feared and so lost.

Birthday and day of death, I visited the Facebook page which I only friended after the person who originally invited me to Facebook had passed on. I left thoughts and memories, holding onto a slither of anything that as in fact nothing. I was in the thrall of the love I lost, I was still loving someone who I could never reach anymore.

Writing a new chapter

Finding new and meaningful love has given me the opportunity to close a chapter, which was written for more a time of sadness than there were occasional blips of happiness. Everything in between then and now never held a candle to that loss.

This new person who on the first touch felt like Chris because that burden followed me wherever I went, gave me a perspective beyond Chris like I found a new life. This was not Chris, in the light, in the mind, in the heart, this person had me, held me, sustained me, supported me and left Chris in the dust, both proverbially and literally. This was a better bidder for me.

A new chapter had begun, and with it has come a daring devoid of any fears, a boldness to act and do without equivocation, a kind of fulfilment is finding a gem that brings more value to one than the quest for more treasure. The treasure of the heart is inestimable, I have through loss, pain, grief, and bitterness come out learning anew that this little heart of mine can find something that dreams and hopes in the passage of time had forgotten to aspire to.

When I pinch myself wondering if this is really happening to me, I realise at the same time that I am ready for this, ready to live, ready to love and ready to escape completely from the past that kept me from finding true love.

Thought Picnic: Of character building moments

As I walk

Building character is an evolutionary activity that is under constant review, assessment, reflection and adjustment. At least, that is how I think about it.

One episode this morning caused me to reflect on some of my attitudes to certain situations. It had snowed in Reading and as the pavements had not been gritted, one had to be careful as one walked from the hotel to the railway station.

As I walk briskly, albeit, with a walking cane, I am careful and usually do not expect to have to manoeuvre run more able-bodied people on the street. I would tend to walk close to buildings as well as follow the crowd.

Don’t talk back

I turned the corner and almost walked into someone coming up against me, I made my excuses and he walked around me. The next person simply ignored what had happened in front of him and made to stand in my way when I swung my cane directing him to walk to the right of me as there was no space to the left of me.

He followed my guidance, but as he passed me, he said, “Don’t use your stick at me.”, I then looked back at him as said, “You’re being an idiot.” As the words came out of my mouth, I was both agitated and deflated. I regretted it.

The situation made me reflect on why I had to answer back because there was no reason to. Once he had followed my directions, whatever way he felt about it should have been left to him as I had achieved my goal of, standing my ground and keeping my lane.

Tackle and leave

I felt diminished by the unnecessary outburst and promised myself to do better. I have on many occasions set in motion an act with the aim of attaining a goal and left at that. Engagement beyond having instigated my action simply develops into unhealthy interactions one can do without.

It reminded me of one instance where travelling in the 1^st Class compartment of an international train, I could neither relax nor nap because a child was completely implacable and an unruly disturbance. I got up and loudly addressed the parent to see to their ward then sat down.

For 5 minutes the father abused and railed, cursed and vituperated vitriol to the point of exhaustion. I ignored him. By that time, the child was quiet, we all could relax and the journey ended peacefully. From the little intervention, I had achieved what everyone wanted, peace and quiet. I don't dislike kids, but where parents are not embarrassed enough for their kid's behaviour to be seen to do something about it. They do have to be called out.

Achieve the prize

My not engaging the father at all meant the situation did not escalate or degenerate into a breach of the peace. Yes, I took brickbats for it, it was completely worth it.

I can be a better man even if people cannot be reasonable or considerate when they encounter me. I do not have to revel in the uncouth just to impact them. Silence is golden and worth its weight in gold. That is the building of character, only engage when your aim is about to be defeated, else, leave, your aim achieved and your dignity intact.

A February of love

Moments are what we have to share,
In those, we found to really care,
Whether they are near or far,
We sought ways beyond the bar.

The world for us became small,
Like we see each other down the hall,
In Skype, we chat, we laugh, we smile,
As conversation goes on for a while.

Soon after, a promise I made,
In my mind, so many plans laid,
We agreed on time and place,
To meet at Easter, face to face.

The craze that drew us close,
How it comes one never knows,
To sweep you off your feet,
This feeling is just so sweet.

A love that dare not speak its name,
That one must not bear in shame,
Cannot be denied of a heart that beats,
We must be bold with no retreats.

For in life, what is your normal?
In some places, we can make it formal,
Some people are just unconventional,
Even you might be exceptional.

For love, let us make no apology,
Or seek strange terminology,
Whether others accept your choices,
Determines where they will have voices.

South Africa: I was caught in up the rapture

[]

A mystery

I probably have not had the time to reflect on my trip to South Africa as I have been caught up in the rapture of something indescribable, yet so amazing.

One on an outing before the year closed, unexpecting of anything and anticipating nothing, my gaze fell upon a mystery of nature exuding beauty impossible to process as neuron bombarded synapse trying to make sense of what my vision and perception gifted my senses.

My rational self concluded, like the Mona Lisa, this work of exquisite genius and art belonged to where it was seen and nothing else. I could not aspire to fulfil a desire that I had judged to be completely out of the league of what was observed.

A wonder

Yet, fortitude works in ways to birth opportunity and for what you could never have planned, the substance of dreams creates a reality that blows you away. That was the gust of wind that blew me off my feet that night and in its wake was my heart enfeebled by an emotion stronger than love.

Never in my thinking had such a thing occurred in my subconscious for me to dare that in my wildest prognostications, the situation that presented was ever possible, but if we are such deterministic creatures, surprise and accident, luck and fortune, experience and reminiscence, love and adventure, would not feature in the stories we get to tell of life.

A dream

The crazy thing is, in a hopeless place, love turned an ace and gave me a jackpot of the person I wish, and hope would be a companion for the journey called life. This was something I had given up on from the time that one I did really care for suddenly departed this mortal coil almost a decade ago.

Not for once would one have thought there was a hope for the heart in unison with another for a future of dreams and excitement, but here we are – caught up in the rapture of love.

South Africa beckons again to reunite with one who has stolen my heart away. In due course, there would be an unveiling of what makes my heart race like a gazelle hopping in delight in the savanna plains of Africa.

The look of love is crazy

[]

We concluded on one basic fact,
We found love in a hopeless place,
Yet, love is rarely a creature of tact,
What it needs for expression is space.

Tall, light, handsome and imposing,
A wary eye caught the body and the frame,
To which one concluded whilst supposing,
One is not anywhere in his game.

Fate works in mysterious ways,
Occupied by thoughts in one corner,
This masterful creature strays,
It was a bit dark, but he was a stunner.

I dared to dream that he was interested,
Yet, I could not hope that in the slightest,
As he sat beside me quite invested,
His plan to have me in arrest.

He was not a baby for he could walk,
Seconds and minutes passed on,
Then with some courage, to me did he talk,
From then the look of love did come.

Thought Picnic: How hubris leaves essential cornerstones off buildings

Stones and bones

“The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.” Psalms 118:22 (New International Version)

“The cornerstone (or foundation stone or setting stone) is the first stone set in the construction of a masonry foundation, important since all other stones will be set in reference to this stone, thus determining the position of the entire structure.” [Wikipedia]

The biblical reference to the cornerstone though indicating lifeless stones pertains to people, the stones are set in place by builders, yet, in the art of masonry, there has to be a stone in the construction of the building that becomes the reference point of the other stones, without which the building risks looking like a work of amateurs and consequently it might collapse upon the occupants who eventually occupy it.

Hubris guides rejection

The cornerstone as a metaphor in many contexts in relation to people could in organisations refer to who runs the organisation or who manages projects, in institutions, it might be the experts whose knowledge is necessary for processes or operations to work.

There are cornerstones everywhere in different guises, the people who teach, the people who mentor, those who provide guidance, those who must be consulted on ideas, issues, events, circumstances, plans or status before major decisions are made.

Yet, as history shows from even the early biblical times, there are linchpin people who have not been recognised for who they are when decisions or actions are taken by those who have position, power, authority or influence and during implementation it dawns on those who were somewhat wise in their own conceits that the consultation and arbitration should have included the people they had heretofore ignored.

Rejection is myriad

Ignoring such people is exemplified in overconfidence, hubris, narcissism, the abuse of power, the denigration of personalities, the belittlement of persons and their abilities, patronising attitudes to contemn expertise, the removal of protection of rights and privileges, discourtesy, rudeness, racism, discrimination, patriarchy, violence, prohibitions, and so on.

Many of these, readers would recognise at work, at play and at home. The question then becomes how the cornerstone gets recognised at the get-go without experiencing an initial or repeated rejection by those who matter.

It is a challenge I have met in a recent family situation that is calling on all inflexions and projections of language, semantics and diplomacy. It is never an easy task, but one that must be tackled.

Notice your cornerstones

For instance, in a professional situation, where essential input to facilitate change is missing, the project would fail. Unilateralism in an environment that depends on relationships, teamworking and systems presages disaster. That concept is more universal than we dare to acknowledge.

Buildings would crumble when builders reject stones that are the inherent cornerstones, not using the requisite cornerstone entertains the risk of an unstable building. You wonder what informs the decision to reject that important stone. You can extrapolate this to any situation, ignored pertinent data and your research is flawed, anything utilising the conclusions in that research would put lives, property and capital at great risk, some of which would be unquantifiable.

By extension, it also relates to the power of persuasion when the argument, idea, concept or intention is not persuasive. Without a strong basis in fact and evidence, the whole premise of any enterprise can be taken apart with sound reasoning and good questions for which answers are unconvincing. In the UK, Brexit is a good example of the Prime Minister miserably failing to persuade the majority of her grand plan.

Invariably, courtesy must be accorded to people who are needed to assume responsibility in certain matters to engage and contribute for them to feel involved and take ownership with a higher call of duty to ensure what they are called to do succeeds, else the activity harbours every indication towards failure.

Thought Picnic: My perception made me choose South Africa

Probably the blog I wanted to write

When I began to write the blog about the 28 years since I last left Nigeria, I had another blog in mind, but as blogs go in my world, the narrative takes on a life of its own as each idea and construct begins to find attribute and reference to other ideas, events or people, by which time I have digressed to the point of writing an entirely different story.

Blog - My last 4 weeks in Nigeria, 28 years ago (The business angle)

Even as I have a concept I want to write about here, I am beginning to see deviations from the main topic, yet, I would rather let a blog take a freeform than shoehorning it into the strictures of an academic paper, which it is not.

Indeed, I like South Africa

I have just returned to Johannesburg from spending the New Year in Cape Town. It was my intention to visit South Africa for about 3 months, but a number of events concerning my health meant I could not plan so far ahead due to restrictions and advice regarding my medication and a procedure I had in November.

I got quite perturbed about the thoughts of South Africa to the point of self-flagellation, I was already regretting that I had let myself down in realising what had become an earnest desire. Then, whilst I was yet in Germany on a business trip, just 11 days to when I had planned to travel, I made the decision, booked my flights and hotel accommodation, and that was done.

Normally, I would have gone to Gran Canaria for some winter sun, though the last time I had winter warmth and sunshine was when I was out in India in 2011. I spent the Christmas Day visiting the Taj Mahal for the second time and what an experience it was.

No fuss consular services

The choice of South Africa was simple for me, I had been twice before, three years ago and I had a general idea of how to get around. When I travel, holding a British passport confers many privileges to certain countries, I do not have to apply for a visa, fill in odious forms and join incessant queues at consulates or embassies to visit the country, time is precious.

My visit to India for a month-long course was fraught with all sorts of officialdom and difficulty, I had to visit the visa office thrice, paid the higher price because my parents were Nigerian, even though I had lived 21 years without break in Europe, but I was in the Netherlands. Basically, I was not being treated as a European once I was resident outside my home country.

If I were in the UK, the visa would have been issued within 2 days, but living in the Netherlands could have my passport with the Indian visa processors any time from 5 days to 8 weeks. I was beside myself in anxious contemplation, unsure of what would be the case, it was eventually issued within 5 days.

Colonial hangovers that endure

India like Nigeria has a colonial carry-over of an unwieldy civil service, the sector is a leviathan, untamed, unreformed and completely inscrutable. Every requirement from the government institution is laden with red tape and unnecessary paperwork that exacerbates inefficiencies and inconveniences. The system serves prebendalism, neopatrimonialism, corruption, graft and malfeasance with no consequence or recourse for redress.

Though I would like for the need to visit countries to be hassle-free, if not visa-free, I appreciate that the UK and Europe do not necessarily grant the privileges to many of the countries I desire to have easy access to.

I remember when leaving Nigeria, my passport was seized by a heavily pregnant lady for no reason than to attempt to extort money from me. I cannot say I was street-wise enough to appreciate what she required of me as she walked away with my passport with probably the view of distressing me until I came to the kind of senses, she expected me to have.

Thankfully, there was a friend with me who knew how to work the system, and some 30 minutes later I was reunited with my passport after I believe a bribe had been extracted from my friend.

People doing their jobs

When I travel, I have expectations and requirements, I hate the fuss, I like officials to be honest, diligent and forthright, doing their jobs as opposed to doing their bellies and that is why I carefully choose where I want to visit and sadly Nigeria has not appeared on my itinerary because I probably would have cause to turn back at the airport and board a plane back to my home in the UK.

When visiting South Africa, I am not accosted by touts or dealers, there is usually someone to pick me up from the airport to my hotel. No one is trying to inveigle their way into my confidences and burden me with life stories that are no concern of mine.

For good service, I would tip generously and be on my way without getting badgered.

Nigeria is not South Africa

Despite the concerns about xenophobia that have arisen in recent times in South Africa, I have carefully chosen where to stay. In Johannesburg and in Cape Town, these places are conveniently exclusive and offer good quality safety. I am smart enough not to venture out to strange places without escorts and I would use the Gautrain in Gauteng for the major stations and to the airport. Uber always comes to the rescue, to take you anywhere and extricate you from strange places.

I am not of the opinion that Nigeria works that way, you read too much of egregious abuse by officials ready to take advantage of you at every turn from when you access the consular services abroad, through passport control, the customs and the journey to your overpriced hotel which is priced for access rather than for quality.

There is no doubt I have lived too long in Europe to begin the consider the prospect of inconveniences, especially with travel. Yet, I doubt Nigeria would be fixed enough to suit the standard of customer service I have grown accustomed to for almost 30 years.

Nigeria really is not South Africa

Furthermore, it goes without dispute that South Africa on the surface is a more emancipated and organised society, the institutions appear to work, the checks and balances are robust and when tested, they endure. I have my rights, the freedom of will, of beliefs and the kinds of engagement I choose, are protected.

In the months that I was about to leave Nigeria, I was being blackmailed, I refused to pay up and told the blackmailer to do his worst. I guess him having to explain how he came upon the information he planned to use against me kept him guarded. Unusually, I was also ready to have him rumbled if he attempted to besmirch my name. I probably would not have been able to sustain this for a long time, but it worked then.

There are other anxieties that bother me about Nigeria, it comes with a sense of foreboding like that feeling I used to had when I saw our house from the top of our street. A sickening and debilitating gut feeling, almost paralysing in function. I just faced it when it would have been more comforting to flee. I have promised myself, I would never put myself in a situation that appeared to overwhelm my rationality out of purpose, duty, commission or omission.

Yet, on any planned visit to Nigeria, I guess one would have to dare to be a Daniel and just do it. For since my father got on Facebook, each publication of my travel exploits has had him comment asking when I would include Nigeria in my itinerary. If only Nigeria were another place, it just is not and that, I am sorry, is a shame. Perceptions matter always, it would take a lot to change my perception that visiting Nigeria is just as easy as planning to visit South Africa.

Your comments on a postcard. Thank you.