CNN African Journalist

For sometime now I have been exchanging emails with a Nigerian journalist whose love for writing somehow got us connected to each other. It all stared with him sending me the first email. I had not met him then, but I do hope to meet him soon.

Why?

Because we probably need to discuss NSOL more (haha - well, he said so in his email: I read your brilliant article (about woman buying a car) published sometime in BrandFaces magazine. From the piece I learnt you are the author of a novel, Nosense of Limits. Please, how can I get a copy for review? Did you say you are married to a Nigerian? Now, how can any reporter resistsuch a compelling interview subject? Please oblige me Araceli. ) and, most of all, he just won THE CNN AFRICAN JOURNALIST AWARD 2008 for his story: Silkworm Genocide. The title alone is a winner, don't you think?

CNN had this to say:

This was the year when African journalists went green. The environmental section which was tightly contested revealed a new field of talent on a beat crucial to our continent and to our planet. Ultimately, Emmanuel Mayah got our nod for his innovative way of showing the impact of deforestation on an ancient craft. In his feature, Emmanuel got into a taxi, and took us into the heart of Oyo state in Iseyin the area once renowned the land over for the quality of its Yoruba silks. In a piece embroidered with characters, he finds that the machines have stopped humming. In the forest he visits, he shows this is because the silk worms no longer have trees in which to breed. The story end with a little good news, the mulberry bush may just come to the rescue, providing a new home for the silkworm

More Filipino jokes

THINGS YOU'D REALLY WANT TO TELL YOUR BOSS:
(...with my own translation in blue.)


1. Ano!? Yan lang di niyo pa kayang gawin? Iuutos nyo pa sa akin?
(What?! That simple thing, you can't do it? You want me to do it too?)

2. Hellooo! Gawin niyo na iyan no para naman huwag niyong makalimutan kung paano mag-isip.
(Hello....why don't you just do it so you will not forget how to think.)

3. Sir, makinig kaya kayo sa akin!? Pwede?
(Sir, listen to me, okay?)

4. Puwede ba, busy ako? Mamaya na yan.
(Excuse me. I'm still busy. I will do that later.)

5. Gumawa kayo ng sarili niyong presentation!
(Make your own presentation!)

6. If challenges are more important than financial rewards, then why don't you just trade in your salary for my challenges?

7. Pwede pong paki-decide lang kung alin sa 10 inutos niyo sakin ngayon ang talagang urgent?
(Can you just decide which of the ten things you want me to do is really urgent?)

8. Absent po ako today. Wala lang, ayaw ko kayong makita eh...
(I will be absent today. Nothing...just don't want to see your face.)

9. Pwede bang mag-all expense paid na vacation? Sige na naman, pagod na pagod na ako eh.
(Can I have an all-expenses paid vacation? I'm really tired.)

11. Uwi na po ako ha. Bahala na kayo dito sa opis..
(I'm going home. Take care of the office.)

12. Sir, pwede po bang taasan ang sweldo ko?! Ang hirap kasi ng trabaho ko eh, ang pakisamahan kayo!
(Sorry this one defies translation....meaning....I dont know how to translate it.hehe.)

13. Mag-reduce naman kayo boss! Mukha na kayong balyena eh.
(You need to go on a diet... You look like a whale..)

14. Bakit po pag kami walang ginagawa pinapagalitan niyo kami? Pero bakit pag kayo ok lang?
(So why do you get angry when I am not doing anything....but with you it's okay) or something like that.

15. Akala niyo ba magaling kayo? Wala lang silang mapiling iba kaya kayo nilagay diyan sa pwestong yan!
(You think you are smart? They didnt really have a choice so they put you there.)

16. Ma'am/ Sir, ang bait niyo talaga. Sana kunin na kayo ni Lord.
(Ma'm/Sir, you are really very nice...I wish God will take you soon.)

17. And it is with utmost sincerity that I wish you the best of luck spending the rest of your afterlife rotting in hell at Satan's side where you belong.

18. Kung totoong nag-client call kayo patingin ng service report nyo!
(If you really called on a client, can I have a look at your service report!)

19. Sagutin niyo naman yung telepono. A little exercise won't hurt.
(Answer the phone. A little exercise won't hurt.)

20. Sige, gagawin ko po ito. Pero pagtimpla niyo ko ng kape.
(Okay, I will do this, but get me some coffee.)

21. Shut up when I'm talking to you!

22. Kayo itong may pa-kotse tapos ako uutusan niyo pumunta sa meeting? Ano kayo, hilo!??
(You are the one with a car, and you are sending me to attend this meeting. Are you out of your mind?)

23. Ano?!! Di niyo alam mag-print? Sayang ang laptop niyo.
(What?! You dont know how to print? Your laptop is just a waste.)

26. If you really think it's that important, di kayo gumawa.
(If you really think it's that important, why dont you just do it?)

27. Sir, palit tayo ng sweldo!
(Sir, let's exchange/swap salaries.)

28. Ang sarap po siguro ng trabaho niyo no? Biro niyo utos lang kayo ng utos samin. Ang laki pa ng sweldo!
(You really must be having fun. You have a big salary and all you do is give orders.)

29. Gusto niyo mag-trabaho naman for a change?
(Would you like to do some work for a change?)

30. Do my work over the weekend?!?! At baket!? Sino kayo para utusan ako.
(Do my work over the weekend????!! And why? Who are you to give me orders?)

Jokes about writing/writers

A writer died and was given the option of going to heaven or hell.

She decided to check out each place first. As the writer descended into the fiery pits, she saw row upon row of writers chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they were repeatedly whipped with thorny lashes.

"Oh my," said the writer. "Let me see heaven now."

A few moments later, as she ascended into heaven, she saw rows of writers, chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they, too, were whipped with thorny lashes.

"Wait a minute," said the writer. "This is just as bad as hell!"

"Oh no, it's not," replied an unseen voice. "Here, your work gets published."

______________________________

A male romance novelist was hiking in the mountains, and he came upon a shepherd who was tending a large herd of sheep that were grazing in the alpine meadow. The writer took a fancy to the sheep, and asked the shepherd: "If I can guess how many sheep you have, can I have one?"

The shepherd thought this was an odd request, but thought that there was little chance that the man would guess the exact number of sheep, so he said "Sure."

The writer guessed "You have 287 sheep," to the shepherd's astonishment, since this was exactly how many sheep he had.

The writer got excited and asked "Can I pick out my sheep now?" and the shepherd grudgingly gave his permission. The writer selected his sheep, bent over, and swung the sheep over his shoulders, to carry home with him.

The shepherd then asked "If I guess what your occupation is, can I have my sheep back?"

The novelist was a bit surprised by this, but figured that it was unlikely that the shepherd would be able to guess his occupation, and went along with the deal. The shepherd then guessed

"You're a romance novelist, aren't you?"

The writer was very surprised and asked, "How did you know?"

The shepherd responded, "Put the dog down and we'll talk about it."
______________________________________

A visitor to a certain college paused to admire the new Hemingway Hall that had been built on campus.

"It's a pleasure to see a building named for Ernest Hemingway," he said.

"Actually," said his guide, "it's named for Joshua Hemingway. No relation."

The visitor was astonished. "Was Joshua Hemingway a writer, also?"

"Yes, indeed," said his guide. "He wrote a check."
_____________________________________

A screenwriter comes home to a burned down house. His sobbing and slightly-singed wife is standing outside. “What happened, honey?” the man asks.“Oh, John, it was terrible,” she weeps. “I was cooking, the phone rang. It was your agent. Because I was on the phone, I didn’t notice the stove was on fire. It went up in second. Everything is gone. I nearly didn’t make it out of the house. Poor Fluffy is...”“Wait, wait. Back up a minute,” The man says. “My agent called?”
_____________________________________

Q. What's the difference between publishers and terrorists?
A. You can negotiate with terrorists.

Pinoy Jokes

(Funny FILIPINO JOKES forwarded to me. Sorry to those who can't understand Tagalog. Translated one joke though, in blue...)

MISTER: wala akong tulog dahil naiisip ko P500,000 na utang ko kay pare.
MISIS: madali yan! Tawagan mo si pare, sabihin mong hindi ka makakabayad sa utang mo para siya naman ang hindi makatulog!
_______________________

JUDGE: isa ka palang pusher, kidnapper, gun for hire, gambling lord, swindler at bugaw! Wala ka bang matinong hanapbuhay?
ACCUSED: meron po. Pulis po ako.

(Translation)
JUDGE: So you are a drug pusher, kidnapper, gun for hire, gambling lord, swindler and pimp! Don't you have decent job?
ACCUSED: Yes Sir, I'm a police officer.
_______________________

Dalawang unano galing motel.
UNANO 1: pare, hindi ko nagalaw date ko kagabi, buti pa kayo, dinig ko humihiyaw ka ng "1,2,3 ummph!!"
UNANO 2: ga go! Hindi ko kasi maakyat ang kama .
_______________________

Babae: Doc, kumusta na ang asawa ko?
Doc: Sorry ma'am. Mula ngayon, ikaw na ang magpapakain at magpapaligo sa kanya, kasi, putol na ang kanyang mga kamay at paa.
Babae: Hah?!
Doc: Hehehe! Ninerbyos ka ano? Joke lang! Patay na sya!
______________________

Amo: Inday, titira dito ang biyenan ko ng 3 buwan. Ito ang listahan ng mga favorite nyang pagkain.
Maid: Opo, sir.
Amo: Kapag may niluto ka dyan, lagot ka sa akin!
_______________________

Son: Itay, pinagalitan ako ng titser ko!
Dad: Bakit?Son: Hinalikan ko po ang seatmate ko.
Dad: Tong anak ko, manang mana. Hehehe. Eh, masarap ba?
Son: Opo, pogi po sya eh.
____________________

Lasing: Hoy! Sinong matapang?! Labas!
Lalake: Ako! Bakit? Lalaban ka?!
Lasing: Pare, ihatid mo naman ako sa bahay, natatakot ako kay misis eh.
________________________

Tatay: Asensado na talaga ang anak natin sa US . Ito, nagpadala ng picture, nakasandal sa kotse. Basahin mo nga ang nakasulat sa likod.
Nanay: Inay, nagpapasalamat ako, kasi, kung hindi dahil sa kotse na ito, natumba na ako sa sobrang gutom.
_____________________

Reporter: Sir, do you watch CNN?
Erap: Walang oras.
Reporter: Do you read books?
Erap: Walang oras.
Reporter: Do you play golf?
Erap: Walang oras.Reporter:
Do you drink wine or liquor?
Erap: Walong oras!
___________________

Frat leader: Balita ko, gay ka?!
Member: Hindi ako bakla! Chismax lang yun ng mga chuvanes na walang magawa sa mga chenelyn nila! Mga chaka ever! Me, Baklush? Haller?!
__________________

An alcoholic son wrote a letter...Beer dad, Gin na ako iinom ulit, Whisky kelan. Tanduay mo yan, Ti Tequilan ko na talaga, pRhumis po! Your San, Miguel.

Reposted... because I'm still a bit busy

(I'm around, folks. It's just that I am a bit busy at the moment with a couple of projects.
Meanwhile, I'm reposting an entry in case some people missed it. And thank you to all those who have been asking... if I'm okay...sending emails, looking for updates...)

_______________________

ON WRITING:

What made you decide to write No Sense of Limits?
Writing is more than a matter of making decisions. Sometimes you just don’t have a choice. You have a story and you just have to tell it. And when this happens, you will find a way.

How would you define your book in terms of genre?
It’s a tragedy. But some mistake it for a romance.

What’s the story behind the title?
The title reflects the outstanding theme in the novel: the thirst for revenge that has no limits, no matter the cost.

Do you identify with any of the characters?
I lived in Lagos for ten years, so I identify with all of the female characters in a way that we all lived in the same city when the book was being written. I saw Lagos as they saw it, or they saw it as I did. I identify with some of their thoughts, but it doesn’t go beyond that. Their actions are totally theirs. I still consider the city as "my Lagos," but I no longer consider myself a Lagosian.

Did you write with any target readership in mind?
Yes, the Nigerian readers. I was writing for them word for word, page by page. I was telling them a story, or I was telling them their story. I had a lot of fun writing a Lagos story, knowing that none of what I was going to say would be alien to my target readers.

How does being non-Nigerian impact on the way you write about Nigerians?
I think being a Non-Nigerian is an advantage. I get to see Nigerians from a distance. I think there’s nothing you will tell me about Nigerians that I already don’t know or that I have not experienced. I compare it to my own culture and background and I see the difference. I consider myself lucky, to be enjoying the best of two worlds.

Have you been surprised by any of the reaction to your book?
Yes, in many instances. But I know that there are generally three types of readers: Those who like your book, those who don’t, and those who can’t go beyond the third page. Every reader is as unique as his thumbprint, so there will always be an element of surprise in the way a reader reacts. It’s nice when a reader actually cites a particular passage and wonders why a character behaved this way or that way. I love it when a reader suggest a different angle.

What has been your most positive feedback?
That after reading my book, many readers began to see Lagos in a different light or perspective. I believe this is a positive feedback because something changed in the reader after reading the book. It’s nice when a reader asks questions after turning the last page. I’m also delighted when readers say the book is humorous or that they couldn’t drop it and that they were eager to know what happened next. So far, I have not received any discouraging feedback. There will always be people who say they couldn’t go beyond the first page or the first chapter, but that shouldn’t kill you if you are an author. There are many reasons why a book is dropped after the sixth page – sometimes it has nothing to do with the book, it has something to do with the mentality of the reader. He or she is probably lazy, or just tripping on the fact that yes, she dropped your book because it “was not interesting enough.” Sometimes, sheer envy makes people throw away your book in disgust. You can’t do anything about that.

What challenges did you face getting your book into print?
When you are doing something for the first time, you must always face challenges. More than a writer, I have intentions of becoming a publisher, so I wanted to experiment with my own book and I made a lot of mistakes along the way. I was in a hurry, I didn’t get the best advice, I was under pressure because I was too involved… those things. But I am happy for the experience because I know I will do better with the next book I will publish, whether it’s mine or another author’s.

What kind of books/authors do you like to read generally?
I would stay awake all night with a biography. At the moment, I would like to read Nigerian novels. I’m waiting to get hold of Cyprian Ekwensi’s novels.

What do you think of the new crop of Nigerian writers making waves internationally?
Encouraging.

Do you think the Nigerian publishing industry is doing enough to capitalize on this global interest in Nigerian stories?
I don’t even think we have what can be truly called a Nigerian publishing industry. The publishing industry is supposed to be made of interconnected parts – authors, publishers, editors, marketers, bookstores, reviewers, the mass media, the sponsors, etc. – which must work together to form the industry. If one is missing or if one is not working in tandem with the rest, then you don’t have an industry. If there’s a collaboration among these people, why then are Nigerians finding it hard to get interested in books? Where are the book fairs and exhibitions? Where are the book signings and book readings? Where are the book clubs? We don’t even have a National Book Reading Day which is supposed to be championed by publishers or bookstores or the Ministries of Education and Culture or even Tourism. If you are a home-based, never-won-an-award, never-got-published-abroad Nigerian author, your name won’t ring a bell here in Nigeria. Only those in the literary circle will know you or read you.

Do you think authors today need to take a more enterprising role in promoting their works?
Yes, definitely. But they can’t do it alone. They need the support of publishers and bookstores and the mass media. For example, Nu-Metro Media in Lagos was very supportive with No Sense of Limits - they organized a book reading right inside the bookstore and they do it for all writers who want to do a reading, free of charge. They also give you space for your posters. And if you have fliers, I discovered recently here at Nu-Metro Media in Abuja, they also give them out to their customers. An author needs to work hand in hand with other players in the book industry.

How useful has your blog been in building/attracting a readership?
I don’t blog to attract readers. It’s simply my way of connecting with people. My kids, some friends, and, I believe, some writers read my blog and that’s fine with me.

Are you working on another novel?
Yes, a short one for children.

What role do you think authors and publishers can play in reviving the reading culture in Nigeria?
They can easily play the part of what we call the influencers. They can work together with organizations and come up with activities showing that reading is actually fun, that it’s a worthwhile endeavor, and that a day is wasted if you don’t read at least read a few pages.

See you all soon...
AA

When did you last let your heart decide?

(I posted this in September last year. I feel like re-posting it, but can't really say why...)

I talk about my plans a lot, my unfulfilled dreams.
Someone who is senstive to my feelings says, "You are like someone in a cage..."
I look at him, grateful for putting all these parts of me needing expression in one sentence:
Like someone in a cage.
Yes, that's exactly what and how I feel.

He offers me a couple of solutions that both begin with the all-encompassing yet very vague word: if.
If...
If only...
The cage becomes tighter, but I'm grateful to him.

I can show you the world
Shining, shimmering, splendid
Tell me, princess, now when did
You last let your heart decide?

I wake up at 2:30am. I no longer need an alarm clock to do that. I just wake up at almost
the same time everyday -- and I welcome it.
I quickly boil water for a cup of coffee. Then, I put on the laptop and write.
It's not really a cage, is it? No, it can't be. It's not a cage if it's something you do by choice.

I can open your eyes
Take you wonder by wonder
Over, sideways and under
On a magic carpet ride...

Two or three hours pass and you don't even notice -- and back to bed for another hour.
I set the phone's alarm clock this time so as not to oversleep.
I have to get ready for work,
play another role,
mingle with different types of people altogether.
There's The Boss. There's the document that needs to be filed,
there's the one
who would make a great fictional character.
Another offer. Another rejection.
A half-openned cage, I suppose.

A whole new world
A new fantastic point of view
No one to tell us no
Or where to go
Or say we're only dreaming

I read a couple of mails from the girls:
The school, the house, the monthly allowance.
They miss everyone,
looking forward to seeing you all soon, they write.
Absolutely no cage there.

A whole new world
A dazzling place I never knew
But when I'm way up here
It's crystal clear
That now I'm in a whole new world with you
Now I'm in a whole new world with you

Unbelievable sights
Indescribable feeling
Soaring, tumbling, freewheeling
Through an endless diamond sky

I need to go to the drycleaner's.
I need to go to the airline.
To the immigration office.
The bank.
I wish I could go to the top of Aso Rock --- absolutely beautiful these days ---
On a magic carpet ride...

Don't you dare close your eyes
A hundred thousand things to see
Hold your breath - it gets better I'm like a shooting star
I've come so far I can't go back to where I used to be

The day draws to an end.
The much-awaited phone call either comes or not.
Whatever --- that's fine with me. I have a book to read,
a novel to write, a magazine to publish, a couple of plates to wash...
but what the heck.
"Come for lunch on Sunday," girlfriend sends a mail (she just bought a brand new car).
"Will be there," I reply.

Every turn a surprise
With new horizons to pursue
Every moment red-letter I'll chase them anywhere
There's time to spare
Let me share this whole new world with you

Like someone in cage?
Yes and no...

A whole new world
That's where we'll be
A thrilling chase
A wondrous place...

The question is:
When did you last let your heart decide?

Definitely one of the most most beautiful

Anne Hathaway is one of my favourite Hollywood personalities. Not only is she pretty...she can also act.

I called it "the joys of motherhood"

A series of highly personal emails between my eldest daughter and I, due to this little thing called autocorrect (or is it autocomplete?), ended up in authorsinlagos yahoogroup some days back, to my greatest horror. I actually wanted to cc my second daughter but I inadvertently clicked on the authors’ yahoogroup, therefore my email ended up on everyone’s mailbox. It’s bad enough sending an email (a personal one at that) to the wrong person… it’s indescribable (try total mishap) when you send it to a lot of people.

Some writers sent a reply to sympathize with me on this “disaster” - and said a couple of nice things. One of them wrote:

Araceli,
"...thank you for sharing this, even if inadvertently. It was a sneak preview of how these things work - family budgeting, children upbringing, bonding etc. I pray i have a wife as protective, and kids as grateful - even if only to ask for more.

truly the joys of motherhood"

Move over Shakira, here comes Style Plus

For the past one year or so, I’ve been listening to the same CD in my car: Shakira’s CD and the hips that don’t lie.

But my teenage daughter has landed and things have changed. She has definitely outgrown Shakira (we used to sing hips don’t lie together) and has replaced her with Style Plus.

So now, that’s what we’ve been listening to for the past two weeks. It’s the only CD we listen to as soon as we enter the car and, either by force or by choice, one can’t help getting used to their rhythm as well as memorizing the lyrics.

Some of the songs are really funny o…

What are Pinoys doing in Naija?

Filipinos in Abuja, together with members of the diplomatic community, gathered at the Transcorp Hilton Hotel on Friday, June 13, to celebrate the Philippines’ 110th Independence Day Anniversary.

Although the Philippines was occupied by both Japan and the US at one time or the other (with the latter supposedly granting the country its independence in 1946), Filipinos recognize June 12, 1898, as their Independence Day. That was when they emerged from the clutches of Spain after the latter had colonized the country for more than 300 years.

But what are Filipinos doing in Nigeria anyway?
Well, aside from those who came here because they are married to Nigerians (about a dozen that I know of), all the rest are migrant workers. As far back as the early 1970s, when Nigeria recruited quite a number of doctors and teachers from the Philippines to come here, Filipinos have been arriving steadily since then. These days they work mainly in the oil, telecommunication, aviation, and construction industries, as well as in manufacturing companies.

Also known in the Philippines as OFWs (Overseas Filipino Workers), those in Nigeria are but a tiny fraction of the estimated 5 million Filipinos (it could be twice as that, actually) who are out of the country, engaged in various occupations at any give time. If the population of some European countries is about that size, then someone was right when he coined the term “virtual nation” to refer to these Filipinos in the Diaspora.

Workers of the world
It’s no longer a secret, of course, that the Philippines (aside from India) is the world’s supplier of overseas workers. But while Indians, according to available reports, earn their income mainly in the IT sector, Filipinos are into almost anything. They man oil drills for dinars in Libya, sing for won at hotel lobbies in Korea, tend to the sick for euros in Austria, sell perfumes for dirham in Dubai, wait at tables for yen in Japan, draw for animators for dollars in Hollywood, clean houses in Hong Kong, teach mathematics to high school students in the US…name it. Engineers, doctors, flight attendants, everybody gets a job.

The world loves the Pinoy worker
There are two reasons international employers seek Filipino workers: they are qualified (access to education and proper training is one of the country’s top priorities) and they speak English. As important, however, is that they can work without supervision, can relate with people easily and can adjust to different situations without too much ceremony – a potent combination that makes them highly in demand. (NB: These traits do not protect them from scrupulous recruitment agencies who promise mouth-watering but non-existing salaries; it does not protect them from abusive employers; it does not protect the children they leave behind from getting into drug addiction and delinquency due to the absence of parental guidance, and there are cases of unsolved deaths and imprisonment. But these unfortunate incidents are minimal – they don’t stop the exodus since they can happen to people even when they don’t leave the country.)

In 2006 alone, according to Newsweek in an article entitled “Philippines: Workers for the World,” there were about a million Filipinos who were expected to pass through the international airport and out into the world to fill up vacancies.

When all the calculations would have been made (exchange rates and things like that), their annual remittances to the Philippines is put at $7 billion – and it’s still rising. Newsweek adds: “A recent Asian Development Bank report put the figure in the $14 billion to $21 billion range – a sum that dwarfs both foreign direct investment and aid flowing into the country.”

Heroes
It’s not surprising then that someone in the Philippines has already dubbed them as the “Heroes of the New Millenium” as far as the country’s economy is concerned. And why not? That kind of money is the force that revs up the nation’s sluggish (compared to that some of its Asian neighbors) economy, much to the relief of any government that comes into power.

Although the combined income of these overseas workers contributes largely to the country’s GNP, many of these migrant workers don’t care much about what those letters stand for or what the term actually means. To them, it’s a simple case of earning an income and empowering themselves. Considering that the cash actually flows right into the heart of each family with a member working abroad, it works. Each man’s effort is rewarded in direct proportion. A proof that it pays to invest on human resources?

Well, for a country that does not have oilfields, it doesn’t have much choice.

(Note: This article was first published in Moneywise in 2006. It has been revised. AA)

Independence Day Celeb

Members of the Philippine Community in Abuja celebrated the 110th Anniversary of the Proclamation of Independence Day at the Hilton last night.

The day before, June 12, which is the actual date, there was a flag-raising ceremony at the embassy compound. Some pictures:


Photo 1
Jeremy and Bob at the back. Lito, Jojo, and me in front; last night at the Hilton.














Photo 2
Members of the Filipino Community in Abuja at the Flag Raising Ceremony on June 12.

Photo 3
At the Hilton last night. Jojo and I on the left.

Fan mail

I must have blogged about this sometime ago...but I'll say it again: one of the joys of being a writer is that you get to, once in a while, receive messages from people you don't know, referring to what you have written a long time ago and saying nice things about you and to you. They remind you, for example, of what you wrote (because you sometimes forget) and you are like, Nice!

Here is one of those emails. Nothing to do with me being such a sucker, but if it does, then oblige me...

Chidi writes:

You are simply a blessing to us. You are a blessing to the multitude of singles who are strugglling to find their own love and to the married ones who are not yet enjoying their marriage as they ought to.Because of your looks and the complexity of your name, I had always taken you to be a free lance writer who has something doing in Africa.Now I know that you may be a foreigner but by virtue of your marriage you are now part and parcel of us.

Your write-up in the premiere edition of JOY magazine is rich with so much inspiration and encouragement.Let me tell you something, the fun,joy,love in your marriage is too visible and contagious to be taken for granted.May be you have forgotten, let me copy some of them here verbatim.'that the way spoke English was incomprehensible(I later found out it was called pidgin,which I have mastered), I have no regrets; never had one for one moment','Sometimes I am asked ,'What it is like being married to a Nigerian?'Great, actually''There are no diamond necklaces and Gucci shoes,but there are African things and stuff he buys for me on his way home from work and I feel loved and appreciated'There are no palatial houses,but we have a home which is built on love and '' am after all an African now','If I had to do it again, I would still follow an African, be his wife,bear his children,know his people, and write this story you are reading now....'

I am happy for you and your lovely family. You are proving to us that your understanding of love is holistic acceptance and committment.Now I know why God enabled you to find your love as well as bless your marriage. It is because He knows you have a heart for people. You naturally and readilly want to share your story with others so that they can be inspired and guided aright.

Keep up the good work you are doing in NIGERWIVES forum. God loves what you are doing and He is really backing you.I pray for more of God's blessings in your marriage, family,career, finances relationships, everything about you should be blessed. Please feel free to invite me whenever you are doing your wedding anniversary. I love you, bye bye.

Regards,
Chidi

Thank you, Chidi.

So you think you can dance....?

Been busy, folks. Preparing for the Philippines Independence Day Celebration, and, believe it or not, Abuja Walkabout is going to dance (uh?)...so that's where I've been since all these days.

Took some photos couple of days ago at the Embassy. That should be me on the third from left. (More photos later...)

We have an awesome D.I. (Dance Instructor) and Choreographer, Anjo. He is simply great.




(Photo by Anjofel Abrillo)

Juliet Jones becomes Queen Nigeria

RR and I gate-crashed into the Ladi Kwali Hall of the Sheraton Hotel on Thursday night to watch the Queen Nigeria Beauty Pageant.

Well actually, we didn’t have tickets, but we were invited by the organizers to go to the venue as we wanted to feature the competition in The Mag and hopefully to get an interview with the winner. The gatekeepers, thank goodness, believed us when we said we didn’t have tickets but that we were from the press, which is not exactly a lie.

We got there late because we had a couple of other functions to attend to: the Filipino Community meeting in Gwarinpa - AbujaWalkabout was (s)elected as the Secretary last week – and a small get-together dinner with our favorite nuns at the Holy See. That's when we also got tear-gassed as we were about to eat...we were outdoors - by the pool. (No, we were not mistaken as robbers, but it appears there was a little excitement in the next street, a teargas somethingsomething was thrown, and it got to us...and of course our faces got burnt - nothing serious - and and we shed some tears. Was not exactly alarmed because it's my 2nd time to experience something like that in the country.)

Back to the competition, the ladies were about to show their traditional attires when we got to the hotel (this was after our dinner and the teargas experience). Stayed at the venue till after midnight, having fun although a bit tired. We had to wait until the winner was announced: Juliet Jones of Plateau State. A title (Queen Nigeria) and a brand new car (Kia) go to her. Being pretty, confident, and brave have their perks, eh? Queen Oyo (that’s how they were called at the competition) was my favourite. She came in 3rd.

RR got some photos during the competition and earlier in the morning (at the Sheraton) when they were getting ready for the day...













































And of course, Abuja Walkabout can't resist a background like that.

Reyna Ara hosts first free seminar on marketing

That's me handing out some plates after a mini-seminar for Abuja-based women in business yesterday. I know I said I won't post any more of my pictures, but this does not show the excess fat, so I just can't resist.


The seminar was held in my office. This is the first of the seminars I am organizing and hosting in the coming months. Participation is free. More on this later (more write-ups and photos I mean) when I can write a better piece.


I'm organizing the seminars under my new company REYNA ARA (no website at the moment so you don't need to google, just stick with the Walkabout meanwhile).


Our Guest Speaker was Carolyn Johnston, a marketing research consultant from the UK.

Some for the weekend...

Monsignor Paul Russell, an American priest serving at the Holy See here in Abuja, is leaving Nigeria for Taiwan. A couple of farewell dinners for him during the week. Last night was one of those. He is also an author and one of his books was on sale during the dinner. I got a copy, complete with an autograph. Will scan it later and post it here.

Thank you for the rain
There was a heavy rain in Abuja yesterday afternoon. I was happy as it washed away the week-old dust in my car. My neighbors (co-tenants) have sacked our gateman who has been washing the car. The car is really dirty…so I hope it rains again today.

Who is Asa?
Babawilly sends me an email, a review of Asa’s concert in London. He wants me to comment on it. I glance through the write-up and send him a mail asking, Who is Asa?

His reply goes: “Ahhh!” (as if I had committed a crime…L.O.L.) “A whole happening woman asking that question. Don’t let anybody hear o.”

I swear I don’t know who (or what) Asa is. I guess that's because I haven’t sat down to watch Nigerian TV since 1999. And that’s a fact.

The Mag
Our mag. A dummy of dummies should be out this coming week. And then, the Editorial Staff should also be out there doing some legwork (that includes me, a whole NSOL author… Ha!), chasing adverts – among other things.

Well, it’s time to stop thinking of myself as an author and try another title: Account Executive (which is a nice way of saying salesperson). If you are a woman (pretty, ugly, smart, dull, educated, fat, thin, Christian-Diored, sweaty, black-haired or bottled-blond… whatever) and you are into some form of marketing, there are many other nice names to describe you. Hmm. You are supposed to be asking for it when you enter those offices in high places, you know, the MD’s office, the Honorable Minister’s Office, the CEO’s office, the Special Assistant’s Office, the Preacher’s Office (for some prayers, silly) and back to the MD’s office. The important thing is to get that cheque signed and ripped off the book. Asking for it, you know, the cheque. Asking for the cheque.

Incidentally, it’s not nice receiving a cheque with chipped nails, but that’s how my nails are: chipped, ugly, and unpolished (so add manicure and pedicure to the list of things to do.) And then, a woman who needs to do some selling needs an arsenal: power suits, chic scarves, dangling earrings, 4-inch heels, the stuff. (Did you think it’s easy?)

What I know is that you don’t have to try too hard to dress up (or dress down). The clothes and accessories are important, but there’s one way to make up for whatever is lacking: flash a thousand megawatt smile… and that should make someone sign on the dotted line.

Maybe.

Are you from China?

“Auntie,” the girl looking after the pharmacy next to my office asks, “are you from China?”

I was in their shop because of faulty electrical wiring in my office and none of the outlets was functioning and I was running late, so busy in front of the laptop, I go, “Yes.” (as in…after 20 years of Nigeria, I am used to being called “Chinese,” or “Japanese” or “Indian” but never Filipino, so I sometimes find it easier to just to say: Yes, I am from wherever you want me to be.)

“But you don’t look like Chinese o,” she says.

This is a bit surprising because many Nigerians can’t tell the difference. (Well actually, it’s usually those who have limited exposure or no exposure at all, thus with limited knowledge of world affairs, LOL, who can’t tell. Well-travelled people will know that the Chinese look totally different from the Japanese, or that Koreans have different facial features from Filipinos or from Malaysians. Unexposed people – including bankers and some people whose names can’t be mentioned here - are the ones who tell you, “You all look alike,” which, if you ask me, is an annoying remark, but I understand).

Anyway, to continue with the girl, I simply say, “Okay

The seconds tick and I can feel her staring at me. Then she goes, “Chinese people no good o.”

Oh my gad. Oh my gad gad gad!

“How do you know?” I ask, alarmed.

She replies: “I worked with them before (insert the name of a Chinese construction company here). Chinese people no good.”

Me: (Insert an expletive here.) “Okay, I’m not really from China.”

I tell her I am from the Philippines (she stares at me like she has not heard of it before, and this is what I am talking about… and I can’t help it if I’m from one of those exotic countries…L.O.L)

She smiles… and we are friends.

Lesson: I will never ever tell anybody again that I am from China.

I will defend Filipinos (if someone accuses them of not being good) but I will never ever defend the Chinese. That’s their problem. I have more than enough things to do already… unless, of course, a construction company wants to put an advert in our mag… then we can say, Not all Chinese are bad. Haha.

What sort of question is that?

I keep receiving emails from friends (through QUESTION IT, a website I suppose) containing questions they want to ask me and at first I used to ignore them, but now they are becoming too many, so out of curiosity (I really don't have time for these things - I have a mag to work on... L.O.L.) I open the mails and I scratch my head at some of them. "Have you ever dated two people at the same time?" goes one query and I am like, What sort of question is that? I mean, ask me something more interesting, you know, like, "How to maintain a straight face when you see a policeman, a VIO Officer, a Fed Road Safety Officer on the road so you don't make the mistake of establishing eye contact with them which may trigger them to stop you and ask you "Wheh yah pahticulahs? - or something like that, hmm.

Anyway, let me give those questions a shot:

Have you ever kissed your friend's girl/boyfriend?
As I recall, there used to be different types of kisses: a hello kiss, a goodbye kiss, a how have you been kiss, a thank you kiss....

Have you ever dated two people at the same time?
Honestly, this question is for teenagers.

Do you believe that love is blind?
Nahhh! Anybody who loves me cannot be blind. (I swear they know what they are doing! L.O.L.)

Next question....?

Meetings, meetings

(Photo: Members of Nigerwives at a recent meeting in Abuja, taken at Tanya's residence.)

Hosting a group of people working in Diplomatic Missions on Saturday, at 3pm, in my office. A couple of weeks ago, I hosted members of Nigerwives. And next week, I am hosting a group of Abuja-based women entrepreneurs...

I like entertaining and organizing. For some time now, I have not been doing that because of work and other things. Now, I'm a bit more settled.

For the Nigerwives meeting, I sweated it out in the kitchen myself, trying to bring back my "culinary skills." I prepared Potato Salad (one of my favourite stuffs), Beef Steak (my own recipe, hmm), and Mixed Vegetables with Chicken Strips (better than those served in some so-called Chinese Restaurant, I dare say!-- and if you roll your eyes, you can go and cook your own chicken strips and let's see...LOL). Then, I got some French Bread from Amigos in addition to Lebanese Bread and ready-made Hummus. For dessert, we had German-made, oh-so-creamy Chocolate Cake (which was a hit among the ladies). The cake was brought by RR (one of our Angel Investor and Management Consultants).

(That's me at the Nigerwives Meeting. Won't be posting more photos of me for some time because I'm really getting overweight. The daily workouts don't seem to be working...)

Remembering Lagos (through the eyes of a favourite character)

(Photo: Lagos stree life. Source: Internet)

"He knew all these small-small Lagos girls: they craved money more than fresh air."

Taiwo woke up with a start. An off-tune, cracked, and simply horrible voice began singing from a loudspeaker, disturbing the quietness of the night. Taiwo reached for his watch; it said twelve midnight. He knew what was coming.

Not again, he whispered, knowing yes, it is.

As he turned and wriggled in the heat and tried to ignore the noise from the loudspeaker, hoping to go back to sleep, Taiwo cursed the legions of preachers whose promises of salvation were everywhere: on billboards of all shapes and sizes, on TVs, on radios, newspapers, flyers on your windshield, flyers in supermarkets, in banks, in hospitals, in bakeries. And then there were the banners. Banners everywhere. Salvation for sale. Miracles for a dime a dozen.

Taiwo knew how these preachers talked about everything: How to have a husband. How to have a baby. How to be rich. And then how to pay your tithes. Their sermons were in gossip magazines, in public buses, in football stadiums.

Jesus, weren’t those enough? They wanted to disturb in the night, too?

Knowing it would not really help, he clamped his palms against his ears as the noisemaker stopped singing and began rattling in a totally incomprehensible language.

Taiwo groaned. Oh yeah? So now he wants to start speaking in tongues, eh?

Speakers in tongue, that was what they called themselves. Speakers in tongue, his ass. What a bunch of brainless, ridiculous mumbo-jumbo gobbledygook-y speakers in tongues. As far as Taiwo was concerned it was nothing but a so-called church’s own form of neighborhood terrorism. These people did everything to be seen and heard. And they did it every Sunday, every Wednesday, every goddamned last Friday of the month. They called it preaching. Taiwo knew better and called it extortion through prayers - they were only capable of transforming churches and their owners, but never capable of stopping the prices of foodstuff from increasing everyday. They were never capable of creating employment.

And now they also wanted to deprive him of his sleep? Haba!

He imagined himself like the hero in a movie, arriving in a black bulletproof SUV, and then spraying everyone with bullets…just like Wesley Snipes . . .

But Taiwo could not sustain the fantasy longer than that. The persistent buzzing of a couple of mosquitoes near his cheek would not let him. He grabbed an old newspaper and frantically fanned himself. How he wished he could turn back the time and return to a place where there were no noisemakers like this in the middle of the night.

Taiwo remembered his predicament. He had been jobless for several months now since Greg had sacked him. And worse, he was homeless, too. He was squatting with a friend, Bashiru, and his girlfriend, Bola, in a room-and-parlor accommodation in the heart of Ajegunle. And he didn’t like it for one second. Neither did Bashiru nor Bola. Taiwo did not blame them. The situation, three people sharing a room, was hardly ideal, even though Taiwo slept on the sofa in the parlor. He sighed and thought he had to do something. Getting a job as a driver was not easy. He was willing to do anything now, but nobody would like to employ him.

He missed working for Greg. There he had lived like a king. The driver’s quarters was like a three-star hotel, with 24-hour supply of water and electricity. Their quarters were air-conditioned, too. He could not recall, he thought as he slapped a hand against his leg, being bitten by any mosquito while being in Greg’s compound. Most of all – remembering now that he had gone to bed last night on an empty stomach – food was not a problem. It was subsidized by Greg. But the most exciting part of all was that they had a video player where they could watch all the films they wanted – Nigerian films, Indian films, Jackie Chan, Will Smith, Denzel Washington. He missed all of them.

Taiwo was not happy with what Greg had done to him – sacking him without allowing him to plead his case. He was sure he could have talked his way out of the mess. He always did. He had gone to a party on the night before he was sacked. Things got pretty wild and he drank until he passed out. Naturally he overslept the next day. It was afternoon when he woke up and by the time he got back to Greg’s house, it was almost evening. He did not mean to neglect his work. He could have told Greg he got an emergency call from his mother who was taken to the hospital. His parents were dead for many years, but he had told Greg right from the start that they were still alive and were living in the village – old and sickly. He used them as alibi anytime he was in a tight position. Many times Greg gave him money to give to his parents, and because of that Taiwo never doubted for a moment that he was one of the wisest people that ever stepped in Lagos. His friends had envied him then, because he always had money. He had boasted that his employer treated him like a brother.

But the administrator had not allowed him to see Greg. He said Greg did not want to see him. So they paid him two months’ salary and gave him some compensation for working for more than four years. But the money was almost finished. His twin sister came from the village immediately after he was sacked, crying that her husband was sick and there was no money to feed the children. He gave her some of the money. And then his girlfriend said she needed this and that, so he also gave her some of the money. And the pesky girl was still looking for more despite the fact that he was now jobless and had told her so several times. Did she want him to go and rob a bank? He has had it with these women, he thought. As for the rest of the money, he had been depending on it to sustain himself and now everything was finished, down to the last five hundred naira, or maybe even less. He didn’t want to count for fear it could be the latter.

He knew he just had to do something. With that he slept off, but he was woken up several times by the unrelenting midnight preacher, and the mosquitoes that refused to give up.

Finally at dawn he knew he could no longer go back to sleep. He reached for the watch again. It said five o’clock. The watch was one of those that glinted in the dark. Perhaps he could sell it to the occupant in the last room – the one that always seemed to have money, judging by the frequency his wife was always cooking one thing or another. And the children, two of them, really looked well-fed. At the thought of food, his stomach grumbled again. He returned the watch back to the table and then, an hour later, he got up from the couch. As usual there was no electricity, so he groped for his bag under the couch and brought out his clothes, trying as much as possible not to make some noise. He moved towards the door, careful not to step on the pots and plates that were on his way. He remembered the second night he slept here. He had been unaware that Bola had put a pot of soup on the floor and he had accidentally kicked it, sending the pot and all its contents all over the place. Although Taiwo had apologized profusely and had replaced the money to cook a fresh one and had even cleaned the whole mess himself, Bola had carried a forlorn look and dagger-like eyes for several days and would not answer his greetings.

Taiwo staggered outside the room into the hallway. The building had twelve rooms, occupied by twelve families, perhaps more. There were six rooms on each side, separated by the narrow hallway, which had become narrower because the tenants used it to store some of their belongings – mostly kerosene stoves and unwashed pots and plates, a mortar here and there, and some other things – really worn out shoes, worn out chairs, worn out umbrellas – anything that had no value to your neighbor. Those that had value were kept inside the room.

There was only one entrance and exit, and Taiwo moved towards it now, maintaining a straight direction and holding his breath, impatient to escape from the musty odor that pervaded the hallway – urine from the thousands of kids who lived in the building, last night’s cooking, rats and cockroaches and their droppings.

Outside now, he inhaled and exhaled several times to clear his lungs. He would probably die here of suffocation in addition to hunger, he thought. There was a well at the back of the compound and it was already surrounded by several tenants when he got there. A shapely young lady eyed Taiwo, but he ignored her. If she found out that he was broke, he knew she won’t touch him with a ten-foot pole. He knew all these small-small Lagos girls: they craved money more than fresh air. Or better sex for that matter.

(Excerpt from NSOL.)

Abuja Walkabout goes picture-taking

Trying to build a photo library for THE MAG (we want aunthetic FCT scenes), so I went around Abuja on May 1 (holiday) to take some photographs.

I believe I can now think of a career as a photographer (just in case palpak ang mag...haha.)

Art work in bronze...

Kids at the Children's Park. Behind is the mysterious, elephant-shaped, writer-inspiring Aso Rock.

Next are some photos taken in one of Abuja's arts and crafts markets.

All rights reserved. Copyright: Araceli

L.O.L.

An aetheist calls NSOL's plot "lazy."

Happy weekend?

I was driving from home to my office yesterday around 12 noon when, right after one of those traffic lights in Wuse 2, I had a “brush” with the law: A fat policeman stepped in front of me and signaled me to stop. Wondering why, I pulled over and the next thing he asked me was: “Why did you beat the traffic light?”

Me? (as in…a whole Walkabout, traffic-rule-obedient, honest citizen, law-abiding me?). There’s nothing more annoying than a situation like this, and which is sure to ignite your temper. Clearly the guy was trying to accuse me of something that was totally outrageous; he was taking a wild shot at my expense. First of all, I did not beat the traffic light. It was definitely on green. (It was not even yellow.) And from where he was standing, there was no way he could tell, because the light is one-sided. Running on a red light is the last thing I would do (okay, second to the last – if it’s late in the night and the road is dark and you are alone and you are scared someone might tap at your window, then I guess you can be forgiven if you drive through a red light).

I refused to be civil. There was nothing to discuss with him, so every time he said something, I replied with the same line: “I did not break any traffic rule.” Period. I stood my ground, even when he wanted to see my driver’s license (which I refused to produce.)

Eventually another guy joined in, a Yellow Fever (Nigerians know what’s that), who agreed with me and was telling the policeman to let me go, but still he refused. And then another policeman came and told me to “take it easy and calm down” - and oh "happy weekend."

But I did not drive on a red light, I insisted, ignoring the happy weekend thing.

He said yes, but “Happy weekend.”

How can it be happy when someone is clearly trying to spoil it for me?

I told him same to you and drove off.

Still on writing

Uju Asika: Are you able to provide us with a quote on whether you think Nigerians have a competitive advantage in the big international markets e.g. UK and US over other countries simply because they mostly write in English?

Araceli: Writing is not a matter of language. There are many writers who write in English, but it does not necessarily give any of them an edge, or it does not necessarily make them better writers than others. Having a competetive edge still boils down to other factors: how can you handle the language to express yourself, how engaging are you as a writer, how are you able to capture exactly what your target readers are looking for, how relevant are your topics... these things.

The Mag Cover

The search is on for a pretty face to be on the cover of the Maiden Edition of The Mag (name of mag withheld). He or she must be doing something nice and easy and cool here in Abuja. We want someone young, 20s or 30s, because we believe that the future of Abuja belongs to them.

The cover is being worked on. Isabella Brown, our designer has come up with the one below, but it's just one of the designs we are going to choose from...

Catching up with a mentor

One of Nigeria's more interesting figures in Literature, Remi Raji, was in my office on Monday to say hello.

I saw him last in January 2006; that was when he was on his way to Sweden (as a Visiting Writer for 6 months) and from there to Germany (for a Fellowship for twenty months). Remi and I worked together on NSOL. He was a mentor on a lot of things.

And since he is in your territory (he came to get a visa at the Swiss Embassy - he'll be going to Switzerland for a conference), you might as well ask him a few questions (yes o, we are doing some work here, not just posing at the swimming pool). The full text of the interview will appear in the Maiden Edition of THE MAG, but here is an excerpt:

ARACELI: You have been to several countries to read your poems. Since 2004, you’ve been out of the country several times to be with other poets of the world. I think I will call you a literary ambassador.

REMI RAJI: Thank you. I feel so flattered named as such, literary ambassador! It is really a big and serious title especially if you consider the function of real, I mean political, ambassadors who go by that name. But I understand what you mean: yes, I read poetry outside the country and I have met many people who do not know much about this country or who have been fed only on the terrible portion of this country’s life. Of course, those who are paid hard currencies as cultural officers do very little to earn both money and position. And as a writer, you’re confronted with all kinds of ignorance about your country, what do you do? People want to ask you questions other than literary. Defend blindly or abuse in order to earn a few dirty handshakes? It’s all a matter of conviction. I once claimed I was Nigeria’s cultural ambassador to South Africa for one day, during a poetry festival. But do titles really matter?

ARACELI: While people in other countries are being delighted with your poetry, we in Nigeria are busy eking out a living. It seems Nigerians are generally not into poetry. Is that correct?

REMI RAJI: I would think the opposite is the case. If there is any genre that is popular here, it is poetry. From post-primary school level to the university, you will find many people who write different kinds of poetry. There are many poetry clubs and societies on campuses; you hear people read their poetry at monthly meetings of writers’ associations; and of course, you can feel the enthusiasm on many art and culture pages in the newspapers. It is obvious and interesting.

ARACELI: Yes, but it’s more of a case of “literature for the literary-minded.” Outside the literary circle, people – Nigerians I mean – are generally not aware of what’s going on in the literary arts. Would you say that literature is not one of our priorities? There are places in the world where festivals are created solely for the reading of poetry. Should Nigeria do the same thing? Or should we just say it is not in our culture. Nigerians are fond of using that phrase – it is not in our culture. Shouldn’t we do as other countries do?

REMI RAJI: I think every society should encourage the art and performance of poetry as a festival and cultural material. Traditionally, the art of poetry was popular, functional, entertaining and with a large following. In the present time, the organization of poetry festivals at a regional or national scale is less than satisfactory. Of course, there have been campus-based festivals here and there like the Ife Poetry festival, and once upon a time in Ibadan, Calabar, Nsukka and Lagos. But these have only been gestures which lacked the patronage of other institutions and organizations. I have wondered with others why it’s still not possible to establish such festivals and fairs like the Rotterdam, or the Goteburg, or the Durban-based Poetry Africa. Most nations that I have been to cherish their tradition of creativity, and they showcase this in any way possible. It is easy to say that it’s not in our culture, but that’s not true. We also say, as I collect from our street imagination, that our dreams, plans, projects, etc are “in the pipeline”, with all intended sarcasm at our squandered and wasting oil wealth!

ARACELI: Is it not a fact that when a collection of poems is published, only a few people get to read it? I know that we shouldn’t commercialize literature, but how do you then intend to reach your readers?

REMI RAJI: Well, I will say that the commercialization of literature is not a negative thing if you really want the literature of a people to develop. It is in fact by “commercializing” the literary product that you will be appreciating part of the value of that literature. By commercialization, I mean the sum total of advertising and marketing, dissemination, and re-production. Ideally, this should be the concern of the publisher and his or her agents. Poetry is the least bought of literary products anywhere in the world, yet books get sold, poets continue to emerge, but very rarely will a poet say that he lives on his writing. Personally, I reach my audience more than I get the money maybe because I have developed a network of readership over the years. And it is these readers whose convictions encourage others to read my poetry. And of course, I also have the advantage of the understanding and encouragement of two good publishers of my works. My poetry has reached farther than I thought it could go; yet we have not started the real business of book commercialization in this country.

On a journey to lose weight

I need to talk about my weight today. I have given up swimming (for now) because I only end up drinking pool water and that should be enough to cause health hazards.

I have tried stationary jogging... so overdid it a couple of days ago that my legs are in terrible pains. I can hardly climb the stairs to my office.

But I know I have to lose weight. There's this pair of skinny jeans that my daughter Samantha bought for me on my birthday - with a request from her that I should lose weight. I know she meant it because the jeans are about 2 sizes smaller than my actual size. I do want to wear the jeans one of these days.

Almost everybody is complaining that I am fat, including my son. The only one who has always encouraged me not to bother too much with my weight and to eat more is, like a typical Nigerian, my husband. He thinks I am actually thin.

This photo was taken last February, and yes, I was holding back my tummy.

Now you know...

On your attempt to be your own boss

This photo was taken during the Easter Season in my office. We are still working on the furnishing and decoration and it was a holiday (Walkabouts are not supposed to be in the office on holidays), so I'm in casual wear.

RR (also known as Ramon Ruste) took the photograph and advised me not to post it on the blog because "Your office," in his own words, "look scattered."

Well, I tidied up a little today, so it no longer looks scattered. But I can't help it if the place is not taking shape quickly. I paid someone to work on the partition (with some nice pieces of tinted glass and sliding door) but he took my money away and ran. The SOB...

It's all a part of learning how to be your own boss I suppose, so when I write a book about it, I will devote a whole chapter on this guy and how he talked me into paying him the full amount before he could finish the job. His story is that he was waylaid by robbers on his way to the market to buy the materials. Ha!

I swear I'm not making this up. I have several witnesses... who said that after spending almost 20 years in Nigeria, how come someone can fool me like that.

Me? I guess I was trained to trust people. (200 years in Nigeria will not change that.)

And Nigerians? You either love them or leave them...

Word for word, page by page

It's been a long holiday, no doubt, ending with the first (it should be the first) rain in Abuja last night. Nice experiencing the smell of rain once again. Was with a group of Filipinos at a send-off party for one of the Philippine Embassy staff members who is going back home for good when the rains fell. I love the rainy season. Lagos is a bad place when it rains, but it's different in Abuja. We don't have to convert our cars into boats.

Finally got myself an internet connection: RELTEL (N6000 connection fee and a monthly fee of N10,000 for "unlimited" use -- I couldn't log in last night). Resigning from my day job last month meant I had no more access to internet and had been relying on cyber centers (no cafes there), which is not good for the kind of business I want to do: publishing. So now I'm online.

Work on the mag is progressing, word for word, page by page. Above is a sample page. Some people say it's bad luck to talk about a project when it's on the planning stage. But in my case, telling everyone about it is the only way to push myself to finish the project... because I won't have the courage to face people if I fail.

NSOL, incidentally, will soon be incorporated as an NGO with the intention of discovering Nigerian authors/writers and publishing their works.

Keep writing, everyone...

Talking and whining vaginas

If God had wanted the vagina to be seen and heard, I'm sure He would have put it on a woman’s forehead and not between her legs.

I posted this piece on my blog sometime ago (more than a year, I believe) and I've been meaning to re-post it but I deleted it, so I had to go through all my documents over and over again and it was simply lost. When there are about 2000 messages in your INBOX, looking for a particular message could be hellish. And if you are in transition (I believe that means trying to adjust to a new lifestyle - learning how to be your own boss after more than a decade of working for a boss), things could be a little shaky. There are things to sort out: books, printouts, photos, letters. souvenirs, manuscripts...in addition to setting up an office, working on company registrations and trying to come up with a magazine, not to mention dealing with errant craftsmen who take your money and then disapppear (I''m learning)... you are in trouble. So anyway, I found the piece on the Vagina Monologues (or what I call The Talking Vaginas) first published in Moneywise middle of 2006.

CASHING IN ON THE VAGINA
- by AA

There are only three things left of a woman who exposes her vagina, talks about it, or lets it talk in public: nothing, nothing, and nothing. For if God had wanted the vagina to be exposed, I’m sure He would have put it on a woman’s forehead and not between her legs.

This brings us to one question: Would you use your vagina to raise money for battered women in Africa? I don’t think so. A few weeks back, I learnt via emails from friends that the show or play ‘The Vagina Monologues’ was going to be performed in Nigeria, courtesy of the British Council, KIND, and the National Centre for Women Development. The emails mentioned the time, venue, and the Nigerian ladies who were going to do the live performance.

Although the title was a bit intriguing, it wasn’t particularly interesting to me. I was not particularly interested in other women talking about their private parts, in other words. But buying a magazine a few days after the emails arrived, I encountered it again. There was an advert of the play – and that’s when a bell rang. I was like, “The Vagina Monologues? Do we really need this kind of thing here?”

For the benefit of those who haven’t heard of it, The ‘Vagina Monologues’ is a play written by an American lady in 1996. It later evolved into a performance featuring different women for every role. “Every monologue,” according to my internet research, “somehow relates to the vagina, be it through sex, love, rape, menstruation, mutilations, masturbation, birth, orgasm, the variety of names for the vagina, or simply as a physical aspect of the female body. A recurring theme throughout the piece is the vagina as a tool of female empowerment, and the ultimate embodiment of individuality.” At its peak, performers reportedly included Oprah Winfrey and Whoopi Goldberg.

I suspect that the “success” of the show in the US is that it appeals to women who are confused with their sexuality. And since there are probably many of them who are like that in the Western world, then the show is bound to attract a lot of attention. But as far as I know, staging the show here in Nigeria is like yet another example of “Whatever is good for the Americans should also be good for the Africans and the rest of the world.” It doesn’t seem to matter anymore what it is that we are copying or endorsing and how it is done so long as it is being “hailed worldwide.”

I agree that we have a lot to learn from the so-called developed nations, the way they do things promptly and efficiently, the way they manage their natural resources, the way they value their citizens, but we should also use our own discretion when it comes to things that we hold dear to our hearts. “May we never become so civilized,” one Nigerian lady wrote in a newspaper some time ago, “that we allow same-sex marriages to take place in our land.”

‘The Vagina Monologues,’ or the talking vaginas, have arrived in our land and we have to say no. (As I write this, the shows have been staged in Lagos and Abuja). As far as I am concerned, a woman should treat her vagina with respect and sensibility.

The moment a woman talks about her vagina or talks to it or allows it to talk in public, she stands the chance of losing the mystery: both hers as a woman and the very part of her that makes her a woman. For aside from her most private thoughts, her most-kept secrets, her wildest dreams and aspirations, her vagina is the only thing she has that is hers alone. If God, I repeat, had wanted the vagina to be exposed, I’m quite sure He would have put it on a woman’s forehead for everyone to see and not between her legs where only the privileged could know it, see it, feel it, adore it. Even when a woman is naked, her vagina is never seen; it is hidden, kept a secret, guarded fiercely until that enchanted moment when she is made love to or when she brings forth a child…

Don’t get me wrong. There’s a difference between a woman talking about THE vagina in public for the sake of information and a woman talking about HER vagina in public for the sake of exerting who she is or getting what she wants. (Money for the poverty-stricken women in Africa, for example? Or to make a name? Court attention?) According to someone I know who saw the play, (he watched it in South Africa), ‘The Vagina Monologues’ was pitched as an educative show. “I found it educative but slightly offensive,” he says.

What I know is that through the ages, women have made names, they have moved heaven and
earth in various ways without mentioning the V word. Mother Theresa touched millions of lives. Dora Akunyili runs after fake drug manufacturers. Other women sing, paint, dance, teach, lead, raise kids, excel in their professions, give from the heart, open their arms wide for a hug, provide a shoulder to cry on, listen, laugh… all in celebration of womanhood and to define who they are. Going all the way to the vagina is not it, for after that, what else is left of her? As it is, there may come a time when, not satisfied with just talking about their vaginas as if it were a piece of fashion accessory, women will be walking down the streets naked from the waist down.

They will say it’s their way of celebrating their womanhood.

They will say they are trying to educate people.

They will say they are trying to raise money for victims of violence in Afghanistan.

Now, why is it that out of the volumes of pornographic materials that are released in the world annually, there’s not one that has put the world in awe? How come not one of these exploited women (vaginas?) has made an impact? Is that a wonder? No, because that’s one exposed vagina too many. Yet it took only a paint, a brush, and a man’s incredible genius to come up with a Mona Lisa. And Mona Lisa? She didn’t open her legs. All she needed was a smile. A darn maddening smile.

_______________

COMMENTS?

Email: araceliaipoh@yahoo.com

Full-time W (writer or walkabout)

It's official: I resigned from my day job (as PA to the Chairman of Geometric Power Limited, Prof. Bart Nnaji) on the 8th of February to become a full-time writer/walkabout. I've given myself the tag Publishing Consultant (consultant being a nice word for people who can't get a proper job.)

It's the third time I am changing jobs in a span of one year. It was exactly on February 8 last year that I left the Korean Embassy, then went on to work for one Israeli company, resigned three months later, got the job with Geometric Power (great co-workers there and an amazing boss) and resigned on the 8th. The 9-5 scenario had become rather monotonous for me, so I decided to try new things. Now, I am a Publishing Consultant, but don't ask me what that means.

Anyway, I am also working on a magazine. Yup, I'm the boss. I dictate the time I work, which is just fine. With my laptop, I also carry around a swimming suit, just in case I need some break after staring at the laptop for a long time. I have my own office in a nice shopping plaza somewhere in Abuja, and I go there everyday as if I am working.

As if...

Interview

Someone (I will -- maybe-- post her name later) sent me a mail on the 4th of February, saying:

"Hi Araceli. I'm writing an article for (insert name here) magazine and I would love to interview you briefly about your book No Sense of Limits, your writing, the state of publishing in Nigeria and reviving the reading culture at home. I'm based in UK so I can call you for a telephone interview (preferable) or we can conduct via email if more convenient. Please let me know how best to contact you and what times of day suit you best. Thanks for your time and looking forward to our chat! regards,"

THE QUESTIONS


What made you decide to write No Sense of Limits?

How would you define your book in terms of genre?

What’s the story behind the title?

Do you identify with any of the characters?

Did you write with any target readership in mind?