Was I not there?

At the Jordan’s edge, when the man got deeped, and the voice rolled like thunderstorm across the noonday sky?

Did I not witness the spirit descend
Like a winter’s eagle
Royal and fierce
Yet gentle and mild
Like the whitest dove?

Was I not there?

Did I not witness deep groans from His dried-up lips and watching croud
As metal flailed bits from tortured flesh?

When lightening rend the heavens
And Thunder split the vaulted steps?

Did I not witness the rains come down in drops as big as eggs?
Did it not wash him clean before
Thomas came to fetch his surpine form?

Did I not stick my toes in the crooked stream
Streaked in deepest red
As it wound its way from beneath the cross?

Did I not see the Romans crouch beneath their ragged capes
Held aright by their vicious spears

Did I not see within my soul as spirit departed tired form?

Can there be doubt of his royal calling
When 3 days hence
I saw him whole and standing firm

Can there be doubt of God’s intent
When on streams of air
He ascended the stairs of heaven
While the rays of the sun lighted the way
And Angels marked the path?

Did I not help guide in the boat
Sinking beneath the weight of a thousand fish?

So do not doubt me nor worry me when I proclaim him the Son of God
Who was, is, and ever shall be, world without end.

Planking has of recent acquired notoriety since people started planking themselves to death. (No, it’s not as the phrase may suggest, being hit over the head with a plank of wood, instead planking means lying belly down with your arms at your side like a plank of wood and having your picture taken in that position.) Certain “adventurous” plankers (or should they be called wankers?) are the cause of the current brouhaha. These people, not content planking on park benches and camel humps, started planking on police cars and 7 storey balconies – sad tale, RIP)
And since notorious is what notorious does (if it seems unreasonable that notoriety breeds popularity, one only need consider notorious B.I.G.), the Planking phenomenon has more or less reached critical mass.
Even a PM has waded in, hmm, that’s until the picture showing the PM planking “in fun” at home (just to show the uninitiated friends and family how it’s done safely) gets leaked unto the Internet (Mr. Assange, heads up!)

I am surprised there have been no alternative play on the word itself, because some of the pictures I have seen on the Internet definitely brings to ones lips expressions such as “no, that’s not possible” and “it must be reinforced” and if you are a man, and you are that reinforced, don’t expect any love from the ladies, they would be too scared to touch you with a 6foot pole. Which brings us to my proposal for a safer alternative to planking called “Poling” – please note that planking is not going anywhere anytime soon (what with students getting suspended for it, and some places banning it, get ready for several new waves of planking – it’s a movement on its own now)

Poling (someone has suggested pillaring, but I think it doesn’t quite roll off the tongue) is defined as standing (yes standing) straight with your hands by your side like a pole and having your picture taken. The creativity comes from your location when poling of course. People have been poling forever (so it won’t be easy to ban) – who hasn’t seen a picture of a friend or relative poling next to one of the guards at Buckingham palace? Or sidling sideways at the last moment into some celebrity picture?
So poling is all about location, location, location.
Here are some suggestions to kick-start your foray into Poling:
– you can pole next to a pole in the middle of nowhere
– you can pole next to a lions cage at the zoo (not inside the cage next to the lion)
– you can pole next to anyone that is not aware of your presence
– you can pole at the bus station (be considerate and don’t hold up the line)
– you can pole next to the Eiffel tower (if you look too small in the picture, do it next to a small-sized replica)
– you can pole in front of your TV while that premier league championship is on (note: “your TV”, not in front of the TV at your local watering hole)
Of course poling is not safe from stupidity – I am sure given a little time, people will start poling on trams; on railway lines (and getting their feet stuck with an oncoming train in the picture); experimenting with reverse-poling (standing on ones head).

To make things even more interesting, let me introduce a poling variation called “back-poling”. Back-poling is standing (the “poler”) with back next to an unwitting participant (the “polee”), with the poler looking in the same direction as the polee. The trick is to do it quickly without actual physical contact and the best pictures are those with the polee having some sort of startled look while the poler keeps a straight face. The only danger is the possibility that the polee will be one of those jumpy fellows who proceed to jump, then push the poler into the path of an oncoming vehicle or off some raised platform.
In which case, we simply attribute the accident to another planking gone wrong. After all, the dog already has a bad name – an extra alias won’t make much of a difference.

Have (safe) fun Poling!

When I close my eyes in death
    I hope to a glorious rebirth
I sojourn to that heaven in the sky
    While I bid the earth goodbye
Loved ones I will surely meet
    Along with angels to greet
Weep not for my work is done
     I have set down my tools – I have heard the gong
No more worries about riches and wealth
     No more cares about leaches and health
The pains are gone,
     I hear the song
The time is come,
     I see the Son!

The old man that passed this way
Grizzled and wise
Wrinkled and crass
Watched me contemplate life through a bottle of coke
With his left hand, he swept the table
Glass breaking, shards glistening in the midday sun
In his right hand a bottle of golden fluid

Young man, what are u doing seeping at life?
Be greedy!
Grab it with both hands
Tear into it with rabid teeth
Take huge chunks
Wash it down with anything that burns
Take huge swallows
Do not be quiet
Gurgle; spit; belch
Let the world know you passed through

Now share a drink with an old man on his way to the grave
And when your turn comes
Be sure to give same advice with all the gusto you can muster!

Thereafter the old man went his merry way
While I contemplated the fallen stars

Devil (D): Good day to you, good sir. How is life treating you.
Man (M): Great. But I had rather you moved on if you don’t mind.
D: Not to worry, I will be moving along soon. My mandate is to touch base with every body every so often. You know, what you want done properly, you have to do it yourself. Good help is hard to find. Just a bunch of idiots I got working for me, they lost me the Great War. But that’s in the past, I have since rolled up my sleeves and see what I have achieved?
By the way, I got to hand it to you – not one of those people that pretend I don’t exist or they have never heard from me when me and my minions are busy whispering in their ears and suggesting all sorts of ways to disappoint the big man to them.
M: Stop with the flattery, you are after all the father of lies.
D: Yes, I hold that title with pride. But I do tell the truth when it suits my purpose. For example, the big man’s got a book He calls the book of life. So I got myself one too (after all, copying is the greatest form of flattery). Personally, I haven’t seen the book (I left before it was spoken into being), but I am sure it’s quite small. Mine on the other hand is huge. Even at that, I have to take care to write in tiny letters, otherwise I would need more than one book and I like to keep all the names of my children in one place. Don’t let anyone deceive you, some say the big man’s book is big also. If true, I am sure he must be writing in size 1000 font to fill all that blank space, while I on the other hand am using a size 6 font to conserve space.
M: What’s in that book of yours and what do you call it?
D: As many names as I myself possess. As you know, I am a man of many colours and I wear more hats than you can shake an accusing finger at.
Some of the book’s names are: the book of the livid (all those people that will be cursing the big man at the second coming – I will get to that in a minute); the book of the languishing (self explanatory – hell hath plenty of fury); the book of the learned (all those who to my utmost delight deny the big man’s very existence); the book of the loveless (no entering heaven without love, love the big man, love your neighbor, etc, etc). I try to use “L” in the name if possible.
M: Well, you really should be moving on, I would assume you are quite busy this time of year?
D: I am busy all the time, no rest for the wicked and all such things.
But a few minute more won’t change the balance of things for me. My final destination is certain, why rush to it I say?
Besides, it seems the big man’s not in a hurry, but the way he counts time is different and I am not privy to his plans like the boy wonder.
M: Boy wonder?
D: That’s Cool-J who can do no wrong. You really should read more of the good book you know.
M: Well, we don’t call him what you just called him now, he is our saviour afterall.
D: Yeah, talking about saving things, the trio pulled a fast one on me. Made me look bad like the Pharisees and the Sadducees. You know I read all those predictions and inspite of how well I knew the big man, I couldn’t take it literarily. It all sounded like some 3rd rate fiction and I said to myself, wow, the big man’s really outdone himself this time. I thought it was all allegory and such. You know parables, blah blah. So I thought I would just see off the boy wonder and all would well (or unwell depending on your point of view with world) and then He went and pulled the Second Coming out of the hat. Is that fair, I ask you? I can just see the big man saying “Who’s your daddy now”. Well, I got my own children too!
M: Well, seeing that He created everything there is in existence, you’ve got to agree He is entitled to some elbow room to manavuer.
D: Sshh! Rhetorical question.
No one’s disputing that he created everything, but one assumed this was a level playing field and he went and started playing “favorites”
M: Well, I wouldn’t call sacrificing your only son “playing favorites”
D: Sshh! Rhetoraical statement. No answer required.
M: Not to appear to be saying I know the bible more than you (which I really should), but I know you know about the potter and the vessel.
D: Hell yes, you don’t know the book as I do and I would be glad if you don’t even try. I study the book like a lawyer studies past cases – looking for precedence and loopholes. And I tell you that old testament had more loops than a snake can twist its spine into. It was called the law and people fell foul of it at every turn to my utmost satisfaction. Then boy wonder showed up and reduced the canon to 3, which gave all you sinners the ultimate loophole by which to escape the final judgment. I was sad for a millenia or so, but I am happy to see that the take up rate of this stupendous (even if I say so myself) offer is below my wildest expectations and falling all the time. There are some spikes here and there when some goody 2 shoes push for a revival or two, but generally, it’s less than I could hope for which is a good thing in a twisted sort of logic.
And what myself and the big man could have achieved together! All I wanted was a piece of the action and he wouldn’t give an inch! So what’s an individual to do when his pride has been given such a denting?
So now, I am reduced to going to and fro to convert the constituents to my way of seeing things. The margins are far better now though. But still, every time there is a dispute and I show up before the big man, boy wonder is always there to raise an objection. He even objects to my objections! And inevitably, I am always overruled! The fact that the man hasn’t lost once smells fishy to me and raises the specter of favoritism again (or it should). It doesn’t help at all that I seem to be the only one that see things my way. My point is that going by the law of probability, I should at least win some of these duels!
M: I must point out that from what you said, not all cases are disputed?
D: Well, even if I say so myself (nothing wrong with a little pride in ones handiwork), quite a lot are slam-dunk-it’s-in-the-kitty, but that’s not the point. I want more! More of the living and the dead!
And speaking of death, how come you let the big man deceive you that you have to die to receive eternal life? Does that make logical sense to a schooled man such as yourself? Why deny the inevitable. Men should embrace the inescapable. Death is the end of all things. Live for and in the moment!
M: You are the one trying to decieve and confuse me. Just like a seed dies and then is reborn in abundance, so is it necessary for a man to die. Death is a translation. A right of passage between this life and another, better life.
D: Come ON! A little give and take makes the world go round! Give a little!
D: Well, there goes my alarm clock. I have spent too much time here already with nothing to show for it. A hard working man like myself has got to put in a hard day’s work to bring in a bountiful harvest. So I have to move on now. You didn’t exactly give an inch this time so I can only hope for better when next we cross paths. See you around. Cheerio.
M: I hope not.
D: Nothing you can do about it. I got in the last word and I am no longer listening. Cheers.

Wash those hands! Please! I beg you in the name of all that you hold dear!
I think the blame for this should be laid squarely at the doorfront of people’s parents. Grown up men (and possibly women – I can’t tell since I am not permitted “next door” for obvious reasons) finish using the toilet, zip up and just head out the door! And the only thing I can think of is pity the unfortunate bas***ds he is going to shake hands with and f**k the bas***d himself! No, I am not a ball gazer, but I will definitely watch you on your way out the door. The question is “is he or is he not going to?” and more often than not I am disappointed.

Then I start thinking of “6 degrees of separation” – the theory that only 5 people separate any given pair of people. How does that come into this you ask? Well, if for some reason the stars line up and those 5 people end of meeting in sequence and shaking hands on that particular day (how likely is that?) I could end up with the reminant of the retard’s urine on my hands. For a lot of people, the last drop doesn’t just end up in their pants, the penultimate drop ends up on their hands.

Well, there is only one thing to be done. I have decided to start acosting people and asking them politely to wash their hands before leaving the rest room. Yes, I know the territory is fraught with danger but if it’s only a blackeye now and then, I think the benefits are worth it. Why my fixation with washing hands after the act? Well, I don’t mind falling ill on account of my own sins (and I tell you those are more than enough) but I don’t want some other person’s “g” warts growing on the inside of my cheek just because the retard won’t do the needful after a visit to the loo. And no, I am not related to Howard Hughes (but I won’t mind having some of the millions he left behind). Please if anyone is considering sueing me, kindly send a one-way plane ticket to America. If we are going to do that dance, let’s do it in God’s own country.

I have of course long planned to start carrying a little loo black book (LLBB) in which I will blacklist anyone guilty of the above crime. So the next time you stretch your hand out to shake me, I may decide I have an itch I must scratch at that very moment or pretend to have my hand stuck in my pocket for some reason.
So like the Mafia I will blacklist you, blacklist your family, blacklist your friends, blacklist your colleagues and the little mutt that you call your dog. Did you say Omerta? What’s that? I should keep silent about it? Well, bleep that and while you are at it wash those bleeping hands will you? In the meantime, I tell on you to everybody! And tell your mongrel too! The next time you offer him food and he looks balefully at you with rheumy eyes and walks away, he is not ill, he just knows that like a true bodyguard, he will give his life to protect you, but he does mind licking your balls.

So wash those hands or else you will be an inglorious entry in my LLBB!

The first of us was walking along the road to the small town on a cold windy day. An old lady driving the same way pulled up beside him and asked if he could use a lift.
“Where are you going young man?”
“Our house”
“And where is that?”
The young man showed her a piece of paper with an address on the opposite side of town.
The lady was kind enough to drop him off in front of the house.
The young man soon settled into the daily rhythm of the small town. Everyday he would go and sit in the park, watching everything and nothing. In about a week, birds would alight on his head and squirrels would run up and down his shoulder. Parents would leave their children with not so much as a second glance in his “care.” When asked who would look after their children, they would say “That nice young man over there, he is my neighbor.” This was despite the fact that not one word (except a nod now and then in greeting) had he exchange with any of them.
In his mind was a question and an answer:
“Why are you here?”
“I am the first of us, and I know the way”

A month passed and one cold miserable day, a second man was found walking towards the town. He also got a lift from some passerby who dropped him off in front of the same house.
A quiet knock on the door. The first of us opened the door an inch and looked at the newcomer. Neither showed any surprise that they appeared to be identical in all visible aspects. The first of us asked the question “Why are you here?” to which the answer was given “I am the second of us, and I have the key”. The door was fully opened and the newcomer went in, immediately descending to the basement of the house, where he proceeded to open a great door with a key that was in his pocket.
The two lived quietly in the house. Saying very little to each other or to the town’s people. Yet, people who only just met them thought they had known them for ages.
A further month passed and a newcomer knocked on the front door of the house. The door was opened and the two occupants of the house saw before them a man that could have passed for their twin. The question was repeated “Why are you here?” to which the newcomer answered, “I am the third of us, and I have the plan”
And as if on cue, the three identical men then chanted:
– Three is the number
– We have been sent to put order into this chaos
– We shall destroy to build
– And build to last
– But what we build shall be built on tears, sweat and blood

And that was the beginning of an end and a beginning.

My office was some kind of amphi/lecture theater where it appeared I was studying. I then decided I needed some water and walked towards Eko hotel. Saw all the roadside stalls selling all the various brands of bottled water and my mind went back to an earlier discussion with my bro-in-law and the fact that all these brands are pirated by chaps in the nooks and crannies of Lagos. That was when it struck me that I had left my phone and digital camera with my things in the classroom. I berated myself as I hurried back but thankfully, the items were still there.
Cut to the house with me upstairs. Hearing one of the Ibadan folks downstairs saying the light brown mongrel in the yard was heavily pregnant and was going to have many babies.
I went to use the bathroom and there were two little dogs there (one in the bath tub) and they said (yes, literarily), “now, you are here with us” to which I replied “No I am not”
That’s what I get for pulling an all-nighter and then not sleeping for several hours even after that (coupled with reading the comic “Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter” to lull me to sleep)

I knew it was coming
Yet I thought it would never happen
So here I am wishing you would get up
People say death is the ultimate confirmation that God is superior to us
But death where is thy sting
If wishes were horses, this willing beggar will will you to defy the stillness of death, the formalin that keeps the hot sun at bay, and live again in this world
Yet, now you are free of the pain, and the treachery that is age, you have transcended the daily grind that is life
You have conquered it all, now you look down with the beginning of a smile at the corner of your mouth and bless God in ways even the best singer alive can only marvel at
The hustle and bustle holds no surprise for you, for even while you yet drew breath in this world, you long ago realised the futility of it all, and lived a life of service
Now, I hope your example will be my guiding torch in this darkness that the average man gropes blindingly through
People are celebrating your life. I guess it is fitting.
It is said that the problem with humility is that one cannot claim to possess it nor can one boast of it. But I not being you, can say of you that you were humble, and double so in spite of your achievements.
The celebration has taken off
The inhibitions are falling off as the spirits evaporate down patched throats
Takes you down memory lane dont it
And one song is asking for the lighter and the ganga
Not what the doctor would recommend I am sure
But it’s all in good fun
And I am sure their spirits say this shot is for you as they rock to the beat
And the tempo has tempted me to take a few tentative steps
Alas, I am only fit for strictly come dancing in my fantasy
The waist refuses to twist
So I stand on the sideline and admire those who can dig it
I will go to sleep now
If it’s permitted to those above
Feel free to drop by in my dreams
We can discuss both the mundane and the shocking
Current affairs and past events
Anything that catches our fancy
And when I wake tomorrow
I will remember and smile
Your body may be destined for the ground but you are long free of the shackles that is flesh
I will try not to cry
Afterall, the separation is short and ephemereal
And soon we will be able to jawjaw again
You were brilliant, but now you know all things as permitted by the greatest One
So, I will let you go now, till we meet again. I say I love you, dad.

(22/10/2010)

I have always thought about the flood and the generations of Adam that lived before it happened (due to the great age some of them lived to be). The analysis below is as a result of a conversation with a senior colleague (O. Adewumi) some time ago when he mentioned the possibility of doing something similar. I have been putting it off for a while, but it came again to my mind just as I was about to fall asleep yesterday (scratch that, about 2am this morning).
So I copied out the relevant Bible verses and created the table below. The only thing that jumps out (at me) is in relation to Methuselah – draw your conclusions please (I may be off by a year or so of course)

Methuselah and the Flood