The Peter Pan Factor

The Girl Whisperer

as published in the Sunday Guardian

of February 14, 2010

In many ways, I believe I bear a resemblance to the Walt Disney character, Peter Pan, based on the play, “The boy who wouldn’t grow up” written by J.M. Barrie. Peter Pan lived in Never Land with his friend, Tinker Bell, could fly where he wanted, time did not exist for him and he battled pirates all day long. Many men lived this life of adventure as children. Their tragedy is that adulthood comes and they no longer are able to find “Never Land”. I heard Kevin Costner on television say once, ‘when a man loses the child in him, he loses everything’.

An old secondary school mate came into my offices one day and saw a play-station console but couldn’t believe it was for me. I did not disabuse his mind. I suppose there are some of us who believe that because adulthood brings added responsibilities, we should live our lives like people who never found pleasure in looking at the clean sand at the ocean’s edge. For me, the world must always remain a place of beauty, a place where joys are strong and as simple as you can make them. I have not forgotten how to laugh even though I pay bills now and sometimes stare with hostility in confrontations with the tax men of this state government.

I told my friend, Adeola the Pharmacist, a few months ago how I felt about being Peter Pan. It is a unique place to be. The Whisperer still reads comic books, loves to play Wii and Play Station and plays actual football every Friday night in Ikoyi. By the way, if as a woman, you have ever said the reason you love a man is because he makes you laugh, you have a bit of Tinker Bell in you.

I do no talk of childish men in this article but of men who have not lost the child in them. I stare in wonder at little children when I see them; the incoherent babble they make that has so much meaning to their own ears, the spontaneous laughter that comes at seeing a bubble rise in the air, sheer happiness at life itself. You see two eight year-old boys walking along a road in deep conversation, one’s arm around the other’s shoulder. What is the conversation about? The stock exchange? A missing politician? No, they talk about life itself and its greatest pleasures- things such as loyalty, truth, honesty, genuine friendship. Children do not stab each other in the back; if they are your friends, they do not make snide remarks when you leave the room. They genuinely and totally believe in you, believe in love and in the world’s goodness. There are no attempts to second-guess you, no bid to intercept a move or some act of perfidy they might suspect. A child tells it like it is. “Adults” should too, and not hide treachery behind “diplomacy”. There are women who say the trouble with some men is that they refuse to grow up. If growing up means I forget how to laugh and become full of guile, I’ll leave “adulthood” to you.

Where did the inspiration for a Peter Pan article come from? The Whisperer is a playwright as well and produces plays weekly on Victoria Island. That itself is an indication of a Peter Pan state of mind. However, I write today because of a female (when have I not?). I lost contact with this one a long time ago but had written about her many times in the past. I liked to describe her as still waters, a female with such a calming effect on me, it appeared almost unnatural. However, she seemed to disappear off the face of the earth, vanishing completely without the faintest trace. I looked for her with ancient tools (word of mouth) and space-age tools (the internet) but not even google could show me where she was.

One day out of the blue, she sent mail to me. You must remember that nations had been built and destroyed in the time we had not seen each other, but that day, I put on my laptop and there she was asking how I’d been. We got talking (she was married and appeared quite happy in her situation) and we agreed that we’d meet for a coffee the next time I stopped by the country she now lived in. A couple of weeks ago, I went in pursuit of theatre lighting equipment to the United Kingdom and gave her a call to say I was around. We then fixed a day we would both be free to meet. That day, even though Manchester United and Arsenal were playing a football match, I knew nothing could stop me walking by “the still waters” and at least taking a glass of orange juice in some pub to catch up on old times.

What struck this Peter Pan when I met her was that she was no longer the twenty-two year old woman I remembered. She was a grown woman and mother and even as we sat over drinks, I could not quite fathom it. In retrospect and with “adult eyes”, you might ask, “What did you expect?” Would she have stayed the same forever? She had stayed the same actually, only she looked, well, older than a twenty-two year old. I suppose somewhere deep in all our minds is the deep-rooted belief that we have not changed since we were twenty-one or twenty-two and therein lies the danger of being a Peter Pan. Even though one must not lose the essence of youth which is the greatest elixir you may ever find, we must always remember to synchronise the passage of time with our situation. We must remember that our true natures might stay the same but our physicality changes. My friend that I met with again was still a very-good looking woman but she wasn’t Tinker Bell who never grew up, age-wise.

The people we love, sooner or later, will have grey hair, add a few pounds to their body weight, and be less active than you once remembered them to be. This is the truth about life but you can have the last laugh when as Peter Pan or Tinker Bell, you hold dear the memories you once shared, and you continue to love as time goes by.



laspapi@yahoo.com

The Girl Whisperer
as published by
The Sunday Guardian

Mortal Blows

The Whisperer is back in town after a holiday that allowed him look at the world again with fresh perspective. He did not go to a perfect place; just one in which, well, things happened differently. On my first day back in my country, I went to that place of starry-eyed internet providers with a branch office on Bode Thomas street, Surulere, to renew my subscription. I met with service so appalling from three different members of staff of the place, I knew the only reason they survived was because there is so little competition in their area of business. I had just returned to this service providers who make me pay monthly, ten times what those in the place I had just visited pay, and that other place has ten times the speed of access. I do not exaggerate. The only people who were showed courtesy as I sought to pay this exploitative sum for primordial services were the uniformed security guards and the very pregnant female who handled customer enquiries. Apparently no one else felt they needed to be polite to customers. Still, with that kind of service, the time will come when the mortal blow they have dealt their relationship with their clients will show how hard an effect it has taken. Yes, the Whisperer is still talking about relationships, even if it is between telephone companies and the paying public that sustains them.

So off I went, getting used to driving again after several weeks of clambering on trains and buses. My next stop was Victoria Island, to pay the cable company and then have my car washed at the end of the street close to Kuramo Beach. As I watched the fellow washing a 4 by 4 with one and half buckets of water and a plastic cup meant for drinking, I knew I was back in the land of drama. I was not disappointed when about four feet from me I watched a scenario so surreal, it could not have happened elsewhere apart from my land. A drunken cook, who the day before apparently “borrowed” his “master’s” mobile phone, came to drink the liquid fire they call alcohol sold at the beach, met up with a fellow he claimed to be his “brother” and then consorted with a prostitute introduced to him by this “brother”. By the time the liaison was over, the prostitute was richer not only by the money paid her, but also by the phone she had lifted off the cook. Now let me describe this cook to you- He was about five feet and three inches tall, very fair in complexion in a way that pays no compliments to very fair people, had a white t-shirt on that had a faint spattering of blood and had no shoes on. His “brother” was a fellow about six feet tall, dark as the sun in total eclipse and they called him “Osaz”. Osaz who was as drunk as a skunk as was the cook on the flammable stuff that passes for drink in that area, was screaming at his “brother”, the cook claiming he knew nothing of the missing phone. The interrogator was a quiet-looking well-dressed man; too well dressed for the area where we stood and who insisted the phone had to re-materialize. Osaz continued to express his defiance only a few feet from me, everyone else yelling as well, and from nowhere, the well-dressed man produced a pistol. Yes, that kind that perforates people if you stand in the general direction it is pointing. By this time, there were about twenty people gathered who were some of the most-evil looking people I had seen in a long while. The villains in the movies, “City of God” and the banned “District 9” had nothing on these ones. These scarred people with dead eyes watched the unfolding scenario calmly, and when the gun was produced, I noticed I was the only one who flinched amongst those gathered. All in a day’s work for these gentlemen. The fellow performing a miracle by washing my car with air instead of water didn’t even look to see what was happening though he could have touched the main actors with his sponge if he had stretched. Osaz stepped aside to save his teeth from turning to rubble when the phone-seeking gun producer tried to swipe him across the mouth with the butt of the pistol. For some reason, the main parties turned to me and began to report themselves. I tried to be calm as I listened. According to the gun man (who apparently was a sergeant in the Nigerian Police attached to the owner of the stolen phone), the owner of the phone had sent him to retrieve his stolen property that had passed into the hands of an unidentified lady-of-the-beach. The sergeant told me of the stupendous wealth of the phone owner and how he owned “almost three aeroplanes”. “Stinkingly (sic) rich”, he described him as he told me of the man’s businesses and where his offices were situated. I still cannot figure out why I was chosen to be a member of the jury in the proceedings. It might have had something to do with my cavalier-style hat but the long and short of it was that the phone was retrieved after threats, cajoling and the same gun pointed at the lady who had lightened the cook off the burden he carried.

But back to “mortal blows”. We all know of people we have loved despite all their shortcomings and limitations. There are many people we have given our hearts to, whom in truth, did not deserve the honour. Yet for reasons we have not always been able to justify, we have pressed on, loving unconditionally. Many would have asked us, “Are you just plain stupid? Can’t you see what he is doing to you? How he/she is taking advantage off you?” However, we are able to accept the person’s imperfections, which is as divine as love can get, I reckon.

We soldier on bravely, loving in spite of it all, gritting our teeth and accepting that love is not always perfect. The person we are with cannot believe his/her luck, being able to get away with sheer murder in situations other partners would have long walked away from. However, as is the case in human relations, the partner who has been able to get away with everything, forgets himself/herself and continues to push, until a mortal blow is dealt the relationship. The mortal blow is the one blow no relationship can come back from, no matter the amount of pleading by the party that has done wrong, or how hard the wronged party tries to forgive and forget. It is literally the straw that breaks the camel’s back and it is a line you cross without realising it. One day, the party that has accepted all the rubbish for so long simply cannot take anymore. You do not know how you get there, you just find yourself in that place where you know you do not have the capacity to be insulted any longer. It might take months or even years. But it will happen if one party takes the other for granted. It might be infidelity or abuse and I do not talk of physical abuse (no one should wait in that situation) but of the emotional degradations that attempt to decrease your self-worth. I write of that partner who does not give the respect that should be your right, who pushes until you have nowhere to turn and you finally look him or her in the eye and say “no more”.

I write this for those who have taken advantage of the love they have found and have abused it, imagining it will stay forever. Love will go if you do not nurture it and you will stare in astonishment when you see you have nothing where once you were Lord of everything.

We all have a tendency to forget ourselves when we find a good thing; and to think love is a right. Having another love you is a privilege and we must never forget this. For those of us who have dealt repeated blows on the relationships we have and have taken morbid delight in the resilience it has shown, a time will come when cracks and fissures will appear. And you will be unable to paint them over.

The Girl Whisperer
as published by
The Sunday Guardian

The Privilege

The Whisperer has had several adventures over the past few days. One of these was a plane trip to Europe that suddenly detoured and chose to fly to the Republic of Benin. No, it was not as a result of a hijack. That airline named after people who have had no intimacy with the opposite gender was my carrier and decided to fill up its fuel tanks in that neighbouring country because Nigeria was facing a fuel crisis for the umpteenth time. So the pilot announced the detour and assured us it would last for about forty-five minutes and away to Cotonou we went. Apparently the airstrip we landed in was unused to air planes of the size we were in as it took forever to fill up the tanks and then the issue of payment came up. The authorities at this “airport” refused to accept credit cards or any of the usual means of payment the airline used in regular airports. They insisted on cash, not pounds or Euros but American dollars. When the pilot and his crew magically produced the cash requested, the Beninois authorities refused it because they said the money bore those little security stamps Nigerian money lenders are so fond of putting on the notes to show genuineness. Apparently, once Nigerians touch notes, something happens to the money.

Some passenger carrying cash “lent” unmarked notes to the airline and then came the issue of the calculation of the sum demanded and its equivalent in dollars. How did I know all this? An exasperated pilot kept announcing to us all how things were going. Once in a while, he would finish with the half serious-half pun utterance -”The wheels of progress grind slowly in West Africa”. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at this.

After about four and half hours, in which we were not allowed to get off the plane, even though we were only fifteen minutes away from Lagos, and in which we were trapped in close quarters with squabbling kids and their irritable mothers, but in which thankfully the air conditioners stayed on, the plane took off from Benin, Europe-bound, at the time it should have been landing in Britain. The proximity of the passengers led to debates and name-calling among the passengers. People were torn as whom to blame- The Beninois airport authorities who had found their day in the sun and had stood for more than four hours between us and freedom? The embattled Nigerian government which could not supply aviation fuel to air planes? Or the airline that had been forced to show innovation by flying to a neighbouring country?

The time in limbo gave me time to reflect on happenings and one of these brought the title of my piece- The Privilege. The problem with this world, as I read somewhere, is not that we ask for too much but we are ready to settle for too little. The day we realise we are worthy of whatever good comes to us and that evil happenings and misfortunes are not as a result of some “karma” for something we did in another life, we'll have a flying start ahead of the rest of the pack.

You must see whomsoever you have a relationship with or intend to have one with, as someone you are bestowing a privilege on. The privilege of knowing you, of having first call on your time and emotions, of being allowed to spend time in your presence and the like. Same way you must understand it is a privilege that person is bestowing on you. How did I come about this philosophy? I received mail from a young woman who said she was interested in the theatre (some of you might know the Whisperer is a somewhat busy theatre producer as well) and I offered her a chance to see a rehearsal. I thought all was well with the world until I received one of the most annoying letters that have come my way in recent times. This female I had forgotten since our meeting, sent in an article she had written and wanted me to give an opinion on (which is as normal a request as a writer can get). The problem I had was with the addendum, in which she said she had a crush on the Whisperer which was now no more but we could be friends and she hoped there would be no hard feelings.

I answered her telling her she had been presumptuous in thinking that the fact she had a crush on the whisperer meant it would have resulted in a relationship if the crush had stayed. I thought it was amazing she had concluded that her liking me was enough to fuel a relationship if she so decided.

You do not assume because you feel like a relationship, every one else will jump in line to await your command. For those who do not see even their friendships as privileges, it is about time. If you do not place value on yourself, no one else will. Firstly, don't apologise for being intelligent, smart, good-looking, witty or any of the other pluses you might have. Do not demean yourself, or force your light to burn less bright because you are afraid you might eclipse the person you are with. What is the point of being in a relationship you are afraid to be yourself in? Let your confidence border on (but not quite be) megalomania. Be yourself, be real, and walk with your head high.

I consider my friendship a privilege, the same way I consider the friendships of those who are close to me, privileges. When you are allowed into the lives of others, you are privileged to do so. Do not sell yourself short in this regard and do not settle for less.

As the year careens towards its final month, remember you have a right to be here too and there is nothing the matter with blowing your own horn from time to time.

The Girl Whisperer
as published
by the Sunday Guardian

The Best Things

The best things in life are free. They have always been. The best things may be found in the ability never to lose your childhood; to find pleasure, contentment and peace as you hear the first rains hit your car roof in the heaviest traffic. It is in the ability to sit on a chair placed on the balcony as the rains come down and the dust goes up, and watch with delight these scenes of people hurrying homewards that once adorned the pages of the schoolbooks read in your early years.

The best things in life will always be free. It is in the unspeakable beauty in a girl-child’s smile, in a boy’s attempt to learn to walk. It is in the things that hold you close to a person you have not seen in more than a decade but whom you know will always remain a true friend.

For the Whisperer, it is in the simple pleasures of reading a comic, of coming across these treasures in another man’s possessions. The way I came across comics in the hands of Kunle Adeyoola also known as Soul Snatcha, one-half of the singing group, The Roof Top MCs as we rehearsed for the stage performance, “The Tarzan Monologues”. If comics are not your thing, there is no shame in it. However, if you are a true comic buff, you will read them up until the day you leave the earth. It cannot be helped. If you have ever seen the movies – Superman, Batman, Iron Man, The Fantastic Four, The Silver Surfer, The X-Men, Constantine, Judge Dredd, Conan The Barbarian and a thousand others, you have read a comic as all these movies had their origins in them.

The best things in life are free. An old school mate saw me carrying a backpack on one shoulder, as I like to do, hurrying down a flight of steps and said, “You still carry packs like these? They are meant for children.” I stopped to look at him even though I was in a hurry and asked, “What kind of bags do adults carry?” and he replied, “Briefcases”. We all have to be careful, because a man dies on top first.

I go through life finding pleasure in many things, in meaningful conversations, in a person’s ability to laugh at himself or herself and when done without cruelty, even at others.

An indicator of the kind of partner you have may be one who does not appreciate the fact that many of life’s pleasures are simple. Sometimes, pleasure is in watching the waves break on a quiet seashore, it is in spending time in conversation with your brother or sister or cousin, and never losing the ability to tease each other.

I watched a friend walk across a street one day and called out to him, “Jammin’ Jay”. He turned at the name and waved, a delighted grin on his face. At this time, the man known as Jammin’ Jay, his nickname in university, was in “power mode”, a dark-coloured suit that was an indicator of the banking profession he was so successful in. However, there was another fellow by my side as I called out, who had been in university with us. We had not been “good friends” but knew each other enough to stop and say hello each time we met. This fellow asked me, “You still call each other nicknames? I thought all that should have been left behind in university.” I looked at him for a few brief seconds but decided he was beyond help. I also thought sadly of the children he would have and the draconian rules he would impose. C’est la vie. We called our father “Supremo” like his friends did, not always to his face but he knew we called him that. My mother up until today is called “On-board” by her schoolmates because of a hair-cut she used to have. It was unnerving the day I stumbled across a meeting of some old students of her school, Holy Child College, and was addressed as “On-board’s son”.

The best things in life will always remain free and if you have a partner who does not get this, there might be issues that you need to resolve. I am not encouraging you to start a close friendship with a fellow who considers buying food sold by roadside hawkers for you daily as doing “the best things”. If you feel like buying akara from time to time by a busy roadside because you have a craving for it, that’s fine. It should not be turned into your staple diet, however. A man should treat a woman like a lady, even if he understands the simple pleasures.

I have a Marilyn Monroe CD in which she sings, “the best things in life may be free, but diamonds are a girl’s best friend”. According to her, when he returns to his wife, the diamonds will still keep you company. I can understand the logic behind her reasoning, but the Whisperer speaks today of those who will not let you laugh and not let you be who you really are. Sometimes you should take the time out to be goofy, to be yourself. The people we remember with the most fondness and with quiet smiles when their thoughts cross our minds are those who used to make us laugh. “What is this life if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare?”

It does not matter if your partner has serious intentions of becoming the Arch Bishop of Canterbury. He must know how to laugh. If he cannot, no matter how hard he tries, and you are cut from the same cloth, why, eternal happiness is yours.

If you are one, however, whose heart sings, then you must be careful in weighing if you can spend the rest of your life with Sad Sam. The Whisperer has always laughed long and hard, has a sense of the ridiculous, plays video games (that’s right, play station 3) and has no apologies for these.

In a world that often tries to tell us otherwise, let me laugh without shame. It’s my life.

The Girl Whisperer
as published by
The Sunday Guardian

The Things Men Do.

Last night, I was in a telephone conversation with a friend whose family has diligently read the Guardian in Warri where they stay, for many years. She told me she had taken two days out to read the Whisperer’s articles after she and I became acquainted. That would have been over two years worth of Sunday ‘Newspapering’ and I was suitably impressed. She had made an observation however, and that was the Whisperer had not written of seduction and love on the rebound in any of the columns. That caught my attention. I was not aware there was any part of the world of men and women I had not written on, skimmed past, or prodded in some way, in over more than two years. The issue with relationships however, is they have so many compartments and then sub-compartments which also have their own spin-offs that I could write for another fifty years and still have enough material to start all over again with.

Still, I asked her, “What do you mean by seduction?” She was stumped for a few moments there but admitted it was a very broad topic. The very idea caught the Whisperer’s interest, however. What does seduction mean? Do people who are really seductive set out to do so deliberately? Is seduction in the quick flick of the tongue across the lips when a girl sees a fellow she likes? Is it in a sashay of the hips across a deserted hallway when the subject whose attention you are trying to catch is just a few metres away?

If you believe that is what seduction is about, you know nothing of it then. The unnatural things people do in their bid to forcibly impress other parties comes across as contrived, clunking, obvious to the target and unattractive. Learn from the Whisperer as he writes of what real seduction is. It is beyond words, beyond anything you can put a definition to. It is in the things you do without a moment’s thought. It is in the intelligence of your mind when you are in conversation with someone who is as intelligent and is in desperate need of meaningful discourse. I met a female a few weeks ago who seduced me with her mind without even trying. Physically, she was drop-dead gorgeous which is a great plus in any man’s computations; the Whisperer is still a man, after all, but the power of her attraction was that she was a intelligent as she was beautiful. Asteroids fell, stars crashed into each other and the sun went into eclipse as we spoke. You must realise however that we are talking of the art of seduction, itself, and nothing more. The fact that you are seduced does not mean, necessarily, that the seducer wants a relationship with you, since some of these signals are not even deliberately transmitted. Seduction is in the charm of the fellow you just met which he appears to have worn like others pour on perfume and it comes off him in gusts. You think, “Dear Lord, if only...” It is in the eyes of the man or woman who grins at you across a crowded street because both of you have just witnessed something silly and you feel connected in a way strangers sometimes do when they recognise a kindred spirit. If you have to work at seduction, then that is no longer what it is; it has become a manoeuvre, a ploy to make yourself attractive to another.

Love on the rebound sounds like a tactic performed like a lawn-tennis player on a basketball court. No one should start a relationship with another because you are trying to fill the space someone else left in your life and your heart. Sadly, many of us do exactly this even though we know it is the recipe to unhappiness and further pain. You are at your most vulnerable when you have just come out of a fragmented relationship and there are many who will take advantage of your need for solace.

As an aside, I was told of a lady who considered some of my writings, harsh. The truth is abrasive sometimes, and the Whisperer will not, for the sake of keeping feathers unruffled, couch quinine in sugar. So there.

Another ‘aside’ was this very lovely woman I met, who asked three people, after our meeting, what they thought of me. They, without exception, called the Whisperer, a flirt on a gargantuan level. I suppose writing an article that is meant to be a personal letter to many women and describing what you have experienced and seen might make one come across as a flirt of sorts. No matter what they think, this Whisperer still has a crush on Brittany Murphy. Please let her know if you meet her before I do. These articles have also provoked an inordinate interest in my private life over the years. I am the Whisperer, a very private man, emphasis on the “very” and you may consider me an “international man of mystery”. (I’m smiling at my foolishness now as I steal the line from the movie- Austin Powers’). My private life will remain that way, private, as we all walk this journey together. I was in conversation yesterday about status updates on Face book and the site sometimes telling half the world, “so-and-so is no longer in a relationship”. I cannot fathom why anyone would want to make his or her private life the stuff of gossip fodder in a forum that can be seen around the world. These aren’t marriages, they are relationships and that is what they do sometimes, they break up. When you make your private life the equivalent of newspaper headlines, you are asking for trouble for yourself and those who matter to you.

Every Sunday this month, the Whisperer’s “Tarzan Monologues”, the world as seen through the eyes of men, will be live on stage at Terra Kulture at 3pm and 6pm. It tells of all the issues that trouble men, and those things that make them vulnerable. You may subtitle it, “the Things Men Do”.

The Girl Whisperer
as published
by the Sunday Guardian

Tales of the Unexpected

The world has a novelist whose name has stood against the ravages of time. His name? Roald Dahl. He was a soldier, who was also involved in espionage amongst many other things in his lifetime.

As a child, the Whisperer would sit enthralled, watching the television series originally based on Dahl’s work and wonder about the heart of man. With adulthood however, one learns that it really is an odd world and tales that will leave you numb in disbelief, exist everywhere.

The first tale I would like to share is that of a pleasant young woman I first met about a decade ago outside Nigeria. At the time of our meeting, she had two kids and was living with a man who was not the father of one of her children but more than a decade before, she had left her West African country of birth on account of the war that had turned it inside out and in doing so had left the man she considered her true love behind.

This man was a bodyguard to the country’s despot (I kid you not) and had to flee when his boss’ government fell. She made it to Europe but when she next heard of him, it was that he had become a refugee in a camp somewhere in Nigeria. Now many of you probably had no idea that Nigeria had a refugee camp for many years. It was situated in Oru-Ijebu somewhere in Ogun State and had people from Sierra Leone, Liberia, Rwanda and many other war-torn places. How did I discover the camp? I was studying for a Master’s Degree in Humanitarian and Refugee Studies and my Professor, Akin Ibidapo-Obe, insisted I had to visit the camp for my research, which I did several times. That camp did not have electricity even though it officially housed thousands of people and many of the floors of the buildings were earthen, meaning people who lived in them could catch pneumonia. I knew of an old man from Liberia whose grandchild died from that illness in the camp. But away from my angst about governments that do not do what they should and back to the tale of this woman and her true love.

So she heard he was in a refugee camp in Nigeria (the Whisperer never met him) and then he disappeared only to re-surface in another refugee camp somewhere in Northern Africa. More than ten years had elapsed in which both had seemingly moved on with their lives, the man in the best way he could under harsh conditions and the female, bearing children for two other men.

But one day, she kicked out the man she lived in Europe with, boarded a plane and headed to North Africa. There in that desolate camp, she found the man she had never stopped thinking of and they got married in the embassy of the country that had given her shelter all these years. They stay together in Europe now and I would like to think they do so happily. The Whisperer has a photo of them together. Any dream can come true if you have purpose and determination.

Then there was the time a couple of years ago when the Whisperer went to the cinemas alone (he has been known to do that from time to time, sometimes the pleasure of a movie can be made dull by bad company) and what was showing was Sandra Bullock’s “The Premonition”.

When the movie started, I found myself sitting in a row just before a noisy couple. The noise came from the man, mostly, and he spoke into his phone to some unidentifiable caller as the movie ran (that is a nasty habit, using a phone in a movie/play theatre). When he finished with the phone call, he commenced talking to his friend at the top of his voice. Well, it sounded like the top of his voice seeing that his mouth was only a few inches away from the Whisperer’s scalp. I decided I was seated in the wrong place in the half-full hall and therefore climbed over the row of seats (That’s right, I didn’t use the aisles, I was that desperate to get away from them). Three rows in front and a lot further to the side, I found the peace I craved for or so I thought. But from nowhere, I felt popcorn landing on me. It was a female and her friend on the new row I had joined. In the gloom of the cinema hall, I thought she looked a bit like my female friend from University, let’s call her D.T., another movie buff, so I gratefully sidled to sit in the chair by her side. It wasn’t D.T. It was some a girl who pretended to show compassion for my earlier plight with the loud couple (half the hall had seen me flee them) but in the next few minutes, she had her hand firmly around mine in the dark hall, squeezing it from time to time as the movie went on. When Ms. Bullock appeared in front of the house of the woman her husband had been cheating with, my ‘companion’ shrieked at the screen, “Does she know her husband is skrulling her?” I hung my head in despair as she repeated that line a few times at the top of her voice. My soliciting friend meant the socially unacceptable word, “screwing” but obviously had learnt to speak English in the wrong schools.

When I unobtrusively tried to remove my hand from her claws, she growled belligerently, “Whassamarrer, where are you going?” I knew the audience in the hall that day might have felt I had lost my mind if I climbed over the seats again.

And then my saviour came in the shape of Frank Edoho, presenter of the television game-show, “Who wants to be a millionaire?” He and a male friend of his had entered the hall, late for the movie, and as they sat just a few rows away, I fled to them for safety.

The Whisperer has had more adventures than is his fair share and prays that all the unexpected tales you have will be ones with beautiful endings. May the new month be a rich one for us all.

The Girl Whisperer

as published by the Sunday Guardian

of May 24

Love Made Easy

The Whisperer has been writing these articles for more than two years now, close to twenty-six months of telling and learning how it is. Some of the things written have been from experience, the Whisperer’s and others; some from intuition and a number from “worst case scenarios” or what he likes to call, the “what ifs?”

The columns have brought new friends into his life (and probably new enemies). Some men have taken umbrage at the Whisperer’s advice to females accusing him of “teaching them to be wayward”. Some women have just been miffed at the very idea of a man thinking he knows so much. For those in the latter category, believe the Whisperer, he does know.

The Whisperer, on this journey, has met females who liked him for a myriad of reasons, the feeling not always being reciprocated, and others in whom the feeling was mutual, friends he wishes to keep for always. But life being what it is, you have to make do with the cards you’re dealt and play with it as if you held four aces. (In that last statement, might lie the secret to true happiness).

Many good songs have philosophies. It is rare for a song that has no sound reasoning in its lyrics to stay on as a perennial, ever-green tune, playable from generation to generation. Why do Nat King Cole songs still have meaning after all these decades? Because they are beautiful, well thought out, well arranged songs for posterity. Your children on a day they are feeling bored, come across your collection, play a song and sit mesmerized, unbelieving that the song was done decades before they were a glint in their parents’ eyes. Nat King Cole did that to me as a child, as did Harry Belafonte. Great songs, great people, that showed another world I had no idea existed.

As I ponder on life and love in the early hours of this morning, I remember the song by the group known as ‘Native’. The title of their song was simple- “Love ain’t no holiday”. They sang, as did half the world with them, “you’re my shadow’s own reflection, you’re what gets me through the day, you’re my source of inspiration, everything I have to say... and if that’s not enough, then there’s nothing left to say, but it’s sure gonna be rough, cos love ain’t no holiday”. I agree in totality with the words of this song. We fall in love, expecting it will work itself out. It rarely does. You meet someone who plays the tune of your heart, with whom you can be silent and be at peace with the world; who, well, makes you happy. And isn’t that what life is really about, to be as happy as often as you can be? We will not at this point have a conversation with the crew always ready to pick out and lecture on the differences between happiness and joy. The Whisperer is declaring that the reason we do the things we do, is to be in a state of happiness as often as we can be. The reason you eat chocolates; go out for dinner with friends; go the movies, sit in darkened halls and enter the world of make-believe; always call up certain people you know are always there for you; take long walks across quiet fields with someone special; put certain songs on replay in your car... All these things are done to continue and to improve our states of happiness. So you meet this wonderful person and you fall in love and for a period in time, everything is perfect. Everything. The sun warms you on the face in the mornings, the cool breezes of the night are perfect for your outings or the times you choose to stay in. And then from nowhere, the resistance comes. Your friends are in opposition; your parents don’t approve, your religion won’t approve, your economic backgrounds are totally different... human beings have a million things that war against them and their happiness.

How do you get out of a bind like this? Only children should be surprised when they meet with resistance on life’s journey. Isn’t it a law that “for every action, there is an opposite reaction”? The very fact that you’ve found happiness means that in some way you can expect some situation will try to take it from you. So the group called “Native” sang, “love ain’t no holiday”. Sometimes, we ourselves are the obstructions to our own sunshine. Like many people who have death wishes, we chip away at the beauty we have found, because maybe deep down in our hearts, we think we’re not really meant to be that happy. There is no situation on the face of the earth that is a new one. People come and they go, they meet someone, fall in love, find happiness. Sometimes they allow it to be taken from them, sometimes, they themselves smash up their happiness for obscure reasons they might never be able to figure.

The Whisperer, like many, many others, has felt what happiness can be like. For those who are worried about the situations they are in, he advises that they hold onto love and to what feels true to them. It is important though, that when the ship you and your true love sail on is torpedoed, and the lifeboat you are on, has capsized and all you have left as you both swim for survival, are each other’s hands to hold on to...it is important that the person you are with, is someone you trust and someone who believes in you completely. The person you may enter the water with is one who will not let go off your hand when the waves come to test your resolve. On a holiday a short while ago, I saw a small marker which was a monument to that great ship, ‘The Titanic’. I stood quietly for a short while and remembered that great, great love story and the young man who froze to death in the sea so his true love could remain on the life-boat. May we all be guided to those who would give up all they have for us. May they never have cause to do so.

The Girl Whisperer

as published by the Sunday Guardian

of May 17

Whispering for Dummies



After receiving plenty of mail in that regard, the Whisperer realises how difficult it must be for some men to communicate with females they want to be friends with as well as potential partners. As suitors, they are clumsy, they say things that make onlookers cringe, and they ignore the cardinal rule: “when you find yourself in a hole, stop digging”. I stood in the company of a lady many would regard as a diva in the entertainment “industry”, whatever that word means. She is unmarried but doesn’t seem to be dying from this condition many people ordinarily consider an ailment. As we stood talking, a male acquaintance sidled up to her and commended her for great work done. No problem so far. Then he said,” I guess to do this kind of work; it’s convenient to remain single”. Foot in the mouth. And like must amateurs, even though he knew he’d said something not quite right, he couldn’t keep quiet. He kept digging and floundering until he was way in over his head. I could see him frantically attempting to stop but his mouth betrayed him. The Whisperer in me looked at him and told him to shut up. It was a mercy killing, because I had seen the smouldering in my friend being addressed and knew there would have been an outburst of sorts soon if I hadn’t intervened.

This therefore is an open instruction book to all men who might want to do some amateur whispering, and desperately need to be seen by all and sundry as suave and smooth. It’s in line with all the books that say “computers for dummies” and “astronomy for dummies”. Whispering itself, being an exact science, the ability to say what is right at the appropriate time and when to shut your mouth is as technical as the engine of a brand new car.

The first lesson is absolutely free of charge and is meant to help the lines of communication. I’ll say something odd here to the men. Check to see that your male friends like hearing you talk. If you can’t interest your beer buddies and they groan in despair when they hear you attempting to join a conversation, chances are it’ll be an uphill task trying to get a woman to listen to you for more than a couple of minutes. If you’re unnecessarily loud, are given to yelling when you are with the ‘boys’, temper it down for the ladies. No female wants you shouting at her because you’re trying to be warm and outgoing.

Respect the personal space. There is an invisible circle around every human that must not be crossed except you are invited into it. That space is the one that might make a difference in people being uneasy about you or being absolutely free. If you lean close to whisper into the ears of a female you’ve set your eyes on, be careful how you do it. Unwanted lips touching the ear, standing so close you are breathing in each other’s carbon monoxide is a no-no. Keep your distance and err on the side of caution. If she likes you enough, one day she’ll stand so close, you’ll see the light, just like a lamp coming on in a dark room. Don’t ask me how you’ll know, just believe that you will.

Less is more. It’s as simple as I just wrote it. The attention you give her, the conversations you make.... Be careful that you are seen as a reservoir of knowledge and not as a fountain of information. There is no female that likes a clinging man. For some men, the penny just dropped at that last line. If you are overly-effusive with your love and affection, it will not be appreciated. I shall ignore the females protesting at the point I just made now. If you pour it on, always sounding like an Indian lover in a bollywood flick, the full impact of your personality will be lost on her. It’s the same way people generally do not appreciate free things; whether it be free tickets to the theatre or freebies of any sort. They think there must be some defect in the design so they look down on it. Turn it down a bit, learn to relax. Always remember, what will be yours will be yours. A female saying no to you is no indictment of your character or person. If she asks you to be more open, more loving, tune the dial to match what she wants, but be careful about being overly effusive. Women do not like gushing men no matter what they say to the contrary.

There will always be someone better-looking than you. Don’t go around trying to match up with the brawny fellow on the front cover of that magazine, just be yourself in every way you can. If there is a possibility you can firm up your body, why not? But if you do not have the time or inclination, ensure that something else has muscles; your personality, your kindness, your humour, your bank account...something has to have muscles. Women are far more practical than they are given credit for. If you’ve met a girl that has a roving eye and speculatively inspects every man she meets, ditch her. The regular female however, will take you as you are if you can find her emotional dashboard. Once you have the emotions, you have the woman.

Even though females appear to be the same all over the world, there are slight variations from area to area, depending on environmental backgrounds, culture, DNA and up-bringing. A ‘modern’ woman might have a problem ironing your shirt because she feels it makes her subservient to you , but if you show it is something you would do for her without thought, it balances her perspective.

Learn to delay gratification. There are too many men who would try to jump the bones of any female on the first night they meet them. No woman wants to be treated like meat. And believe me; they know what’s on your mind when you start breathing heavily and getting cross-eyed. Free your mind; enjoy her person, the smiles she brings so easily to your face. In many ways, relationships do not differ from the way they were when we were fifteen years old apart from the heavy emphasis on physical intimacy, the older we get. Find the joys and sheer pleasure you had in relationships when you were a teen.

And for those who would say, “I’m not a child anymore”, hear the Whisperer. When you lose your childhood, you’ve lost everything.

The Girl Whisperer

as published in the Sunday Guardian

of May 10, 2009

Que Sera Sera

Take a moment with me to hum that old, familiar tune, ‘Que Sera Sera’, which has delighted families for countless generations. The Whisperer learnt it from his mother and older sisters around candle-lit tables in the early days. Call to mind the second stanza, “When I grew up and fell in love, I asked my sweetheart ‘what lies ahead? Will there be rainbows day after day?’ Here’s what my sweetheart said- ‘Que Sera Sera, whatever will be, will be, the future’s not ours to see, Que Sera Sera’ “

From childhood friendships and puppy love, the Whisperer has wondered about the difficulty in predicting the outcome of relationships. As a seventeen year old, I could have sworn that I had found the perfect girl. She would work through my school with confidence as all eyes would follow her; she had eyes with an oriental slant, said she loved me and made me feel like a King, right up until the time she left me for an undergraduate. I found out the hard way that except you’re like the writer, Alexander Pope, who peaked very early, teenagers do not often end up in long-term situations with their ‘true-loves’. We met as adults and I couldn’t believe how little I felt. That wasn’t the real thing.

The song, ‘Que Sera Sera’ is not for those who have doubts about their relationships from the onset. Often, many start relationships knowing they will crash into the abyss before half a year runs out. If you suddenly decide after a month from the kick-off of your relationship that the musk of your partner would be better if masked by a very powerful deodorant, this song is not for you. If you can’t walk at the same pace as your partner, you walk a little in front or a little behind so they don’t realize you’re the beauty walking with the beast, it’s not a Que Sera Sera moment. If you find yourself staring after your partner’s friends, unable to tear your eyes off a particularly scrumptious one, you know you’re in for the short haul. Que Sera Sera is for those who have found true beauty, who have stumbled like Ali Baba, upon that cave which holds magical properties that can change lives forever. Yet they know deep down, that life being what it is, sometimes curve balls will come at the very moments when you are least expecting surprises. So one lover in the song asks the other, ‘will there be rainbows day after day?’

There are relationships people enter knowing they would never exchange it for all the oil in Siberia. You find someone who calls out to your heart even without words. Your eyes speak volumes across rooms even when many others are present. He (or she) knows exactly when you are silent because you hurt, and this person will swallow pride repeatedly, to make up with you so you both do not lose what you have found. The Whisperer has seen and experienced this, as many others have too. There really is true beauty in the world. But one day, life intervenes, the ‘reality’ of the situation hits you in the face, the next work transfer comes in, the next job offer across the Atlantic, the parent who says you are of different religions, the guardian who says you are of varying economic backgrounds, and suddenly, the pot of gold at the bottom of the rainbow is not as attainable as it once was.

There are countless ‘perfect’ relationships broken and scattered across the continents because they couldn’t stand the complications of life, ‘perfect’ couples who ended up in the arms of others for the long run. Now this will open up a new debate. Is there only one perfect mate for you in the two and half billion potential partners that exist on this planet? Won’t there be people as nice if not better than the one you have lost or might lose? That is not the subject of my discourse. My point is that when you find this person, who makes you see the world through new eyes, there is no one else anywhere on the planet at that particular point in your life. The most generous, best-looking, suave people will not do it for you at that point because you have found that one who helps make time stand still as you two move alone through the earth, at peace with the world, loving each other, looking, savouring, basking in the sun and being in harmony with the universe.

There are moments when we wish the world would remain still, that we are forced to move, to continue with life as we know it. Still, there are ways one can beat life at its own game. If you follow your heart (and be sure it is your heart you follow, not some hazy concept you have of love) you can build a new reality. But there is no one who has fought a duel with life that has not paid a price. Not one person. The dancer or actor, on any continent who decides there is only one profession for him must be prepared to starve for a while, that ‘while’ being relative. It may last for a few weeks or many years. However, if he decides he will go for it at any cost, he must ready himself for the worst life can throw at him and have faith it will all turn out right. There are many bankers who have not found fulfilment at work and many actors who have.

It is the same with affairs of the heart. If you find THE relationship, you must be prepared to look life full in the face and stare life down (and that is a very, very hard thing to do). You must be prepared to create your own future so you have space for this one thing. If the circumstances all just fall in place for you, you are indeed a blessed person; if they don’t, help the situation. “Not only strike while the iron is hot, you must make it hot by striking”.

If one is not prepared to do this, then you must be ready to sing, “Whatever will be, will be”. The wind does not blow for those who have no destination to sail to. Amor Vincit Omar, the Latin maxim says. Love conquers all.

The Girl Whisperer

as published in

the Sunday Guardian of April 5, 2009

BRIGHT EYES AND OTHER PERSONAL STORIES

The time is 4am and it is dark outside in the Whisperer’s world. The curtains are drawn up to catch draughts of cool air and it is the hour to do some reminiscing, to go back in time and place memories of the past against the facts of the present and the possibilities of the future. A close friend asked me a short while back if I wasn’t worried about disclosing personal details of myself in the newspapers. She said I had courage in writing the way I do. The way it used to be, it appeared as if I never got personal, but the Whisperer has had too many adventures not to share some. I sometimes think my life has been the stuff adventure stories are made of, like pages torn out of a Mark Twain story, and it has been that way since the early years of childhood. In my first form at secondary school, my English teacher gave me a name, “Huckleberry Finn”. I think it had to do with my dusty feet and general outlook on life. I was only ten.

At that age, I became great friends with many great people even though we were all runt-sized at the time- Toyin Zollner, Harry Moradeyo, Akin Olusanya, Kelechi Ejiogu, Obioha Otuokere, Joseph Ikunna, Seyi Eniayewu; and then into the A-Level days where I met Alfred Adebare, Segun Ewuoso, Sola Adebiyi, Gbadebo Olanrewaju and many, many others.

In those years, and into adulthood, I lived life as I thought was right. If these disclosures will stop my fellow citizens from making me the Minister of all matters feminine, so be it. I do not intend to leave the earth like the Roman Emperor Nero did, saying “What a great artist dies with me”. By the time I’m finished whispering, you’ll all be aware of the extent of my ‘artistry’, and gained from it in many ways. Some would be sure not to make the mistakes the Whisperer made; others would have had laughter brought into their lives on grey days.

Maybe this whispering is some kind of penance for the mistakes I have made in times gone past, when I could so easily have made the world a better place for those I was with. It might also be for some reading, to understand there is another side to every story and sometimes the truth has three or more sides, depending on perspective. ‘Walk a mile in my shoes; before you accuse, criticise and accuse, walk a mile in my shoes’ was a song my eldest sister, funmi, loved to sing to me, when I was a child.

A few years back, while I was studying for a master’s degree in law at the University of Lagos, I met a young woman, everyone called Bright Eyes. She was an undergraduate in the same faculty and had come to my attention through another young woman I had a special interest in, and through the friends of that ‘special one’.

The group that made me realise there was a new girl worth noticing, was a year ahead of ‘bright eyes’ in the faculty, made up of very good-looking females in their own right but it seemed as if all their waking moments were filled with thoughts of this new arrival and the ‘threat’ they felt she constituted. She was a ‘fresh’ face in the faculty who apparently had no idea that other queens ruled the turf she had decided to call home. It had been a long time since I’d seen an assortment of young females so engrossed with the life of another and it proved a great source for many interesting scenarios. Their waking moments were filled with ‘Bright Eyes did this’ and ‘Bright Eyes wore that’, so the man-yet-to-be Whisperer looked out for Bright Eyes. When I found her, I understood the reason for the agitation. She was stunningly attractive (I do not use this description lightly), usually wore little or no make-up, her hair was always woven without any extensions (very few people are that self-assured) and she moved with an air of total confidence.

Everyone called her ‘Bright Eyes’. Why? It might have been because she had eyes as clear as a baby’s, but whatever the reason was, ‘Bright Eyes’ had come and she was there to stay. She weathered the storm of b*^@~y females, became immensely popular in the faculty and we became good friends. It always amazed me to see how self-controlled she was. It might have had something to do with being Head Prefect of her school before University but Bright Eyes always gave little room for error.

We learnt to accommodate each other’s whims and caprices, had great fun being friends, time flew, and we parted ways but I never forgot her. Apart from being one of the most gorgeous people I ever knew, she had a beautiful heart and one never quite forgets people like that.

The years flew by, roads leading unto other roads but one day the Whisperer’s vocation carried him to a major Nigerian gas company. And there, walking through the door was ‘Bright Eyes’, unchanged through the years. I had stumbled onto her place of work; she, still as self-possessed and beautiful as before; I...well, I had become the Whisperer. Many things ran through my head as we talked. How time flies when we aren’t looking; how it is important to stay in touch with those that matter to you; why we should tell those we care about that we will always be there for them, whether we see tomorrow, or not for another ten years.

I am glad I met Bright Eyes again. The old adage says ‘twenty children cannot be playmates for twenty years’. Maybe. But we can give it a try; we can give it our best shot, we can determine we will not always surrender to what life tells us.

This is a story of friendship, of finding again all those people that once mattered to us, who have since long gone. May your Bright Eyes walk through the door again very soon. May there always be beautiful reunions in all our lives.

The Girl Whisperer

as published by the Guardian

of Sunday March 29, 2009

FEMALE HURRICANES

In the banking industry, there is a phenomenon known as ‘Hurricane Cecilia’, and legend says this hurricane who heads one of the country’s mega banks hit the industry like a force of nature, hence the nickname; taking what was just an average outfit and turning it into an enviable organization.

Why does the Whisperer remember her? A while back, as I sat at a dinner organized for the patrons of the Muson Centre, the ‘Hurricane’ swirled in, surrounded by a phalanx of aides, secretaries and assistants. A noticeable thing was that all those who were with her were men; suit-wearing power-types, the kind that puts fear into you if you can summon the courage to ask a bank for a loan or if your loan return-date is overdue. All these men were kow-towing, showing the highest level of respect to her and one was carrying her handbag. Read the rest of the story before your feminism kicks in.

I’d never seen a man carry a woman’s handbag no matter how powerful the woman was, and an affluent-looking man at my own table shook his head and sighed at the spectacle without saying a word but his message was clear, ‘What has the world come to?’ He probably held his peace for a number of reasons; he owed the ‘Hurricane’ or intended to owe her. The first rule to attaining true affluence is knowing when to be quiet.

The Whisperer fancies himself a learned man yet that scenario gave food for thought. One of the most powerful women in the country had her bag carried by a man. Yet, that scene would not have disturbed the sensibilities of the men in that hall if it had been an affluent man’s briefcase carried by his female aide. Not one man would have blinked an eye-lid, but the reverse was played out and it irked many, but not this Whisperer. That day, the ‘Hurricane’ broadened my horizons; people who are powerful, no matter what gender, will have their briefcases and handbags carried. Finis.

So what is it about a powerful woman that might be difficult for the average man to handle? I have known a few personally and at work; Bolanle Austen-Peters, Hafsat Abiola-Costello, Alhaja Roli Raliat Daniju, Funmi Iyanda, Agatha Amata, The Ibru sisters, Mo Abudu, Kate Henshaw-Nuttal... The one underlying theme that runs through all is an air of confidence. A bravado that leaves the insecure... well... insecure. Without an exception, they are audacious and dare to go where many cannot. Generally, they are very likeable, caring people (there is an exception to every rule and this list has its own as well) but the sense of assurance they all have might be unpalatable to the insecure man.

I had a discussion with a friend one day, a hurricane in her own right. My conclusion was that an unsure man might be afraid of a woman like her. The sort that wakes you up in the morning to say she’s on her way to Abuja to sort out her work. All the notice you get is fifteen minutes. You cannot object, or do anything but mutter under your breath, because she was self-made before you met her and except you’re willing to meet all her needs, an unhealthy proposal at the best of times, you had better let her get on with her work.

It is a well-developed, secure man that can overlook this independence, a very secure man; or a kept one who dares not ask questions. However, there are men who understand it is only a matter of time until they’ll be where they want to be.

Men should take a hint from the Whisperer, that we all cannot have the same measure of success, at the same time. Some arrive at the gates of success before others. If your partner arrives there well before you do, don’t let it emasculate you. I learnt a long time ago, the truth of Henry Thoreau’s views on non-conformity. He said ‘the fact that a person does not dance at the same pace as his companions does not mean that there is something the matter with him. He might be listening to a different drummer’. We all dance our way to success in different ways, and therefore arrive at its doorposts at different times.

A man who allows a hurricane’s success disturb him will lose all sense of well-being and contentment. He will be unable to sleep and will treat each disagreement as a slight and personal insult. He will read meanings into the most trivial of things and banality will become his creed. You must remember that when envy sits on your heart in relation to matters concerning your partner, the relationship is finished. If you’d rather not have a hurricane as a partner, this is the time to look for the type without ambition you have always fancied. There is a type that does not push or add incentive to be a better person, one content to remain where she is for the rest of her life. Unfortunately, not only does this sort keep herself down, she weighs down whomsoever she is with too.

The Hurricanes themselves must be wary of what success turns them to. They say you never know which man is going to become an alcoholic or skirt-chaser until he has enough money. For many self-righteous men, it is a lack of funding that keeps them so. The same goes for women. You never know who’s going to become a harpy and a virago until she becomes successful. Then she looks at you down her nose and tells you where to get off.

The Whisperer, fortunately, has no single bone of envy in his entire frame. He may have an eye that speculates on the female form a bit longer than others do but envy is not a Whispering vice. We have all been given gifts, blessed with talent from birth in diverse ways. Take yours and run with it and create your own hurricane.

The Girl Whisperer

as published by the Sunday Guardian

March 22, 2009

The Players Club


In affairs of the heart, there are many people all over the world who play and have been played. For the uninitiated, we shall define the player as a person who speaks of, and does loving things to his or her partner, whether prospective or substantive, without serious intentions. That last line means ‘whether the player has acquired the target or otherwise’. Pardon me, but the lawyer in me breaks out from time to time.

Players can be of either gender and of any age. The young male player may be a college student or a working professional. To this one, the world is his oyster. He is awakened to the immense possibilities females have to offer and he takes this opportunity with open arms. Excuse the pun. He may be brash or quiet, gentle or aggressive in his approach to life. This young male is the least skilled in the cadre of players but this is on account of age. There are some things that can only be learnt through experience. The female equivalent of this player might be good at ‘multi-tasking’ too. The Whisperer has met young women who have more than one partner and are able to keep the different parts of their lives separate. The undergraduate who has a boyfriend in school and is also dating a ‘man from town’ is a perfect example of this. Each partner hears her say ‘I love you’ and in some deep recess of her mind, she might mean it but her aim is to keep juggling for as long as she can, until the house of cards falls, if ever.

I once knew a girl whose boyfriend used to be a friend of mine. She was the one who first approached him, a fact the Whisperer has no problems with. There’s no problem with being direct if you want something. He was rather well known then and she picked her target well and they started a relationship which appeared to be going along well but there was this little problem. She was a student and he worked. He would say goodbye to her in her hostel at night, the ever-conscientious boyfriend and she would hit the night clubs a few hours after. As an aside, the night-club frequenters get there well after midnight. Even if you laid siege till midnight, you would never catch a partner who is inclined that way. He later found she was running other relationships simultaneously with his. He would go home and she would get into the car of another fellow and park in some quiet corner of the school. If you have a playing partner and you know in your heart (we always do but refuse to face up to it) that the stories you are told, don’t fit together, take a long walk away from the relationship. We make excuses all the time for those we think we love. My friend found out of how he had been deceived when his girlfriend fell out with a female friend of hers. That female told him things about his girlfriend that made him physically ill. It is important we choose the right partners.

Just in case there are men reading this article who think females are the only ones capable of deceit, the field is an open one in this matter.

A female undergraduate (It’s undergraduate day today) met this nice young man who was home on holiday from England where he lived. He told her he loved her and all the other things men say to women. On one of his visits to the country, he told the girl, who loved to boast of their relationship, that he had to go to his hometown. Loving girl accepted his story and sent him along his way with flowery kisses. The next Saturday, as she and her friends sat in her room listening to the radio, they heard someone call into the radio station to wish a couple getting married that day, congratulations. It was her boyfriend’s name that was called. He had come into the country to marry and the undergraduate was a plaything for him.

The girl who had been played, fainted, and her friends had to revive her. But they say ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.’ The scorned girl and her friends plotted against the day the fellow might return to see her. He must have had some kind of active sixth sense because he never showed up again. But a close friend of his, who was married, did. And the girls exacted their vengeance on that one. There are few things more dangerous than a cloud of girls in their hostel. They are in their element and you might lose your dignity if you fall into the wrong hands.

So they cornered the friend of the player who swore he knew nothing of the evils his mate had committed. The girls slapped him around a bit, swore they would openly disgrace him and then made him pay a ransom for his release after detaining him for more than four hours. He staggered out of the female hostel at about midnight, his wallet considerably lighter. And then remembered he had another hurdle to face, his wife waiting at home, wondering where he was. So he rubbed his hands on the earth around him to give a dirt, soiled look, deflated his own spare tire and when he got home, told his wife he had lost a tire on a bridge and had not been able to replace it for a long while.

There are times when a player gets played. When a person who feels he has life exactly where he wants it, underestimates a partner. I had a relative who felt he’d found a girl he could walk all over. She was about two decades younger and professed her love and her willingness to serve him forever. So he invited her to England where she was meant to be his wife and she took off once she landed on those shores. Apparently she had been biding her time. I felt pain on his behalf too and wondered why he didn’t see it coming.

The Whisperer assures you that if you look closely, you will know if a person truly loves you. The eyes never lie.

The Girl Whisperer

as published by the Sunday Guardian

of December 21, 2008

Zero Tolerance

I’m not certain about the feelings the Governor of Lagos State evokes in the average law-breaker (which used to include half of the citizens of the state). Prior to him, most things went, most laws could be manipulated, could be side-stepped. If you felt like using the Marina as a toilet in broad daylight, in full view of all the expatriates and potential foreign holiday makers we keep trying to make tourists, you could. It was a captivating scenario to behold each morning. Row upon row of men, crouched low and engaged in their morning toilet, cigarette dangling from one corner of the month, rumpled newspaper in hand doubling as a fly-whisk and as toilet paper, but all that has come to an end now. He’s grown flowers there and his commissioner for tourism has placed a large boat at the end of the Marina, which they say is a hotel and restaurant. All of a sudden, there’s a man with an army on the streets, pulling down illegal structures, arresting people for driving down the wrong end of one-way streets, a ‘minor’ offence in previous times and horror of horrors, these law enforcement agents are asking for proof of tax payment. Yes, his internal revenue officials now roam the streets. There are residents of the state who are afraid if they go home for their holidays, they won’t be able to come back because Raji Fashola’s men will be stationed at the borders asking for tax returns. Just as an aside, that’s can’t happen, particularly in a state governed by a lawyer turned politician because there would be fewer acts more xenophobic in the history of Nigeria. Still, those who are afraid won’t be reading this newspaper. However, his ‘armoured’ vehicles proclaim the legend, ‘Zero Tolerance’ and it appears he is determined not to tolerate the nonsense that once reigned supreme in this city.

Personally, I am awed by the determination of this man and even though I am one of the ‘law breakers’ he has forcefully converted (I own a 750 cc Suzuki motorcycle, which you know as ‘Power Bike’ in lay terms), he has forced me to obtain a ‘rider’s card’, some form of licence with a personal registration number that permits me to ride a motorcycle and a ‘road worthiness certificate’ to prove my motorcycle is not a heap of scrap held together by wire. Which brings me to ‘Fashola’s army’ that’s in charge of enforcing these laws. The guys who issued the licence on Lagos Island are okay, but those he has put on the streets to enforce the possession of these things are some of the most clueless people on the face of the planet. They ask for the strangest things, hackney permits, local government stickers on private bikes, just the same way the maniacs from the local government offices used to try to ‘arrest’ you for changing lanes in traffic. I was chased once while I rode down a quiet road by a rabid man in a fluorescent green bib with painted-on words I didn’t bother to try to read, his only identification as a ‘government’ official. Hazy offences, manic enforcers; great laws, disturbed enforcers. The governor needs to add more enlightened men to the ranks of his enforcers.

Zero tolerance- Could you run a relationship with a partner that way? Give no room for mistakes, for errors in judgement? You catch her giving an admiring look to a sculpted guy whose muscles ripple under his shirt and you’re forced to unobtrusively try to hold in your own stomach. Upon your return home, you announce to her, ‘It’s all over. I saw the look that you gave him’. Zero Tolerance. You see she holds your good-looking, rich new friend’s hand for too long after a hand shake and you fiercely whisper into her ear even before the party’s over that it’s not going to continue between you two, because you can’t take her lascivious ways. Zero Tolerance. It’s a good thing relationships aren’t like the government’s laws. If they were, there’d be none left standing. The only way a government can get its business right is to be determined to enforce its laws at whatever cost. Pull down illegally constructed houses (Remember El-Rufai in Abuja), arrest military personnel that beat up a young female for not getting out of the way of their screaming cars on time, and apprehend army officers driving down the wrong end of a one-way street. I saw a picture of Fashola lecturing a sheepish-looking soldier once who had decided to take a shortcut because he was one of the untouchables. Yeah, maybe you could do that before the entrance of Fash The Cash as governor. Fashola’s busy repairing Lagos and he’s raising the money to do so anyhow he can. So all those who used to think obeying laws was only for when holidaying in the cities of Europe should be afraid. Be very afraid.

On the other hand, a personal relationship cannot survive on Zero Tolerance.

You cannot have a relationship in which you are not bending to accommodate your partner. Note that the operative word is ‘bend’ not ‘break’. Human beings differ, one from another, and the one sure thing in life is that your partner will err. You will consider some acts by your ‘dream partner’ as unacceptable and worthy of a relationship review, but you must think again. If you wanted to date the perfect person, you should have made a clone of yourself... or married your sister.

Now you see where I’m going. Sometimes, our rigidity does not allow us fully appreciate the beauty others can add to our lives. If we only give room for the fallibility of human nature, many relationships would be better. It’s often wiser to have done your ‘screening’ of your potential partner well before the relationship starts, and not halfway into the affair when your change to a sudden zero tolerance stance is inexplicable.

Remember, a personal relation is different from that of a government and its recalcitrant citizens. Love really does conquer all. Amor Vincit Omar.

The Girl Whisperer

as published by the Sunday Guardian

of October 7

The Generation Gap

The older I get, the more I observe how it is perfectly possible for intimate partners to be separated by many years. Often, it is the man who is older, and frequently, ten to fifteen year gaps and sometimes even more, are no longer out of the ordinary. In some cases, it is the female who is older, one of the most celebrated cases worldwide being that of Demi Moore, ex-wife of the “Die-Hard” actor, Bruce Willis. Demi, a good-looking woman is 42 and her current husband, Ashton Kutcher, 27.

So, is there a problem with relationships that are between people of different generations? Theoretically, a man who goes out with a girl he is 16 or 17 years older than, is biologically able to father that partner. Should society frown at this manner of relationship, and if society does concern itself, should the partners care?

Sometimes, there is a danger inherent in people of the same age choosing each other as partners. The rapidity of the maturity of females can be mind-blowing in many cases. As a 15 year old, I had girls about my age who were “girlfriends” but in retrospect, I wonder what they really must have thought of my actions and ways of thinking then, and how some of my more immature actions must have appeared to them. Females have a tendency to mature faster than the male gender, in body and mind, accepting the reality that is life much faster than men do, and it is a rare 15-year-old male that can match up with his female counterpart in issues at that age. It takes a while, often, for the male to catch up in reasoning, in logic and in maturity.

Now, make no mistake, there are many relationships between age-mates and peers that work out very well, the male partner in this case having the necessary composure and presence of mind to ensure the smooth running of the partnership.

Some might say the relationship generation gap thing is just about men wanting to trade in older women for newer models, wanting slim, nubile ‘trophies’ instead of partners who are struggling to resist the pull of gravity on “assets” that were once prime estate. This might be true in some cases, but the truth remains that in many cases, men sometimes reach an age when they are as comfortable with their peers as with females who are much younger than they are. The natural poise of many women also enables them to carry on meaningful discourse with older men allowing relationships to develop. Men are sometimes drawn to younger women because many of the things the men have achieved attract the respect of the younger females. Women who have seen a man struggle through years of nothingness are less likely to be impressed by his strutting and preening when he finally achieves success. Some men seek the validity of appreciation from younger partners. A bit selfish, I reckon, but relationships even between peers come about for many reasons, some as strange as the one jut mentioned.

The other side of women attaining maturity and physical prime, faster, is that when men finally attain their physical prime, they usually stay there longer. There was an article I read a short while ago, where the female writer in her twenties (I can’t recall her name) said she found herself more and more, strongly attracted to PSGs or Powerful Sexy Greys as she put it. Men who even though aging and greying are at the acme of their confidence, assurance gained from years of overcoming obstacles, positive achievements and repeated successes.

So we go back to the question, is there anything the matter with relationships where there are huge age differences? The viewpoint of the Whisperer is that people must only have relationships they are comfortable with. Your life is yours to live exactly as you want and as long as your choice falls within the law, (a thirty year old having a relationship with a fourteen year old will spend a long time in prison and justifiably so), you may have anyone you desire as long as the person is willing to have you. Just ensure that both partners are qualified as adults within the law.

There will always be the generational gap issue in relationships, but it is the state of the hearts of those in the equation that matters. The key is finding someone you care about enough, and turning your back on prejudices that will bring you unhappiness.

The Girl Whisperer

as published by the

Sunday Guardian of Sept 30

The False Messiah

Many of us go through the grind of living, hoping that someday, somehow, we will meet that one person who will take all our troubles away. Someone who, with a sweep of one hand, will cancel all our fears and make everything all right. Someone who will understand the reasons we made the mistakes we did, and like the Arabian proverb goes, take all those blunders in one fist and blow them away like sand.

Let the Whisperer be as blunt as he has ever been, today. It will never happen. You will never come across another human who can take your life and make it all right. You must wake up to reality and understand that you must sort yourself out first, learn to love you, and then hopefully you’ll come across another person who will appreciate you as you are, blunders and all, and then complement you.

Looking for another person, a messiah to give us joy is a form of denial, a type of escape from reality. All humans have their own hang-ups and one of the most selfish things you can inflict on another human is to bring all your own unresolved issues and try to pin on that person. Who needs extra pain?

Prospective partners balk sometimes, when they see the weights others are attempting to load on their backs, for if you meet a man who has perfected his own coping mechanism, he does not want anyone to upset the balance.
When a man, for instance, enters a relationship, not knowing the amount of work necessary just to run a normal conversation with a female seeking a messiah instead of a partner, the man will run, no matter how upsetting that might be for the female. My advice for females is to resolve their own issues first, if they want to have successful relationships. Females should sort matters that trouble them emotionally, psychologically and even physically. The matters that they cannot resolve except through time should be made clear to the prospective partner for a revelation after the commencement of the relationship will lead to problems.

On the flip side, men should be careful about avowing "love" to every female they meet. A man should observe the person in question properly, remembering the police cliché, “In God we trust. All others we check out”. Being patient might save you from the hands of a virago. There are people whom, when their advances are rejected, turn into misshapen creatures that stalk your nightmares. They will create scenes at your work place; seek out your friends to spread malicious and untrue gossip about you and many other things unhinged minds have the ability to conjure.

Therefore, men, learn from me (which I know you will not) and be careful whom you whisper sweet words to.
Women listen attentively to the things you say (even if sometimes, they are the ones putting you under great pressure to say these things) and if you do not mean the declarations of Camelot-type love on the tip of your tongue, do not open your mouth to utter them. There are people whom, if you got to know them properly, you would not touch with a barge pole, so why rush?

A girl I barely knew asked me repeatedly to share a blood-oath with her under the stars. Any one, male or female who thinks a blood covenant is the only thing that can keep you, is one you must run far from. Angelie Jolie might make it appear cool but do not be fooled, you are not there when she tries to sleep at night. Needless to say, this person frothed at the mouth when I took off at a full gallop (Yeah, the Whisperer can run too)

Thoroughbreds and the “Girl next door” are your best bets to have successful and meaningful relationships with. A well-bred person is difficult to leave anyway, because you perceive that you need the balance they instinctively give to your lives. If you do give in to a moment of madness and leave a female like this, you might regret your rashness for a long while. The options available on the open market aren’t always as attractive as you might think and there is nothing like being captured permanently by a bestial type to make you long for all the well-bred people you rubbished as you sowed your wild oats.

When the whisper becomes a scream...

(I get mail from people concerning the "Girl Whisperer" articles published in the Guardian every week. Some are really touching, some leave me open-mouthed. I delete the crazy ones but I kept a few. See below)

my name is phina,plz i wnt to no more about big brother
africa i will like to be one of them.
plz sir mail me buy tomorrow ,dis is my contact
0807...(Phone Number obscured by laspapi. This was sent in response to the article, 'Big Brother is watching you'. The article had a picture of Meryll, the fresh evictee from the reality show)

Subject: my lover (from john ....) Sweet,i love you so mush,try as much as possible to mail me.Or if you want to know me better,you can call this number 0803....Please is very important. (Photos of females placed on the Whisperer page confuse the dim as to the gender of this writer)

Hi Baby Girl,
How are you doing?
I love you baby my name is Emma from Abuja FCT. I came across your photograph in one of your magazines.
I love you so much, Bbay, you are looking cool and sweet.
send me your phone number for further communication.
Get back to me as soon as possible.

Thanks Bye Baby

Emma
0802.......

and then to the insane:

from "Lady Duvine"

Hi Laspapi, I read your blog regularly and I must say I really enjoy it! I also never miss the girl whisperer on sundays. Just read your latest post, you are in luck! I am a thorough bred, anais anais (my favourite perfume) perfumed lady. I ll be at your 3pm show today, would love to meet you, I am assuming you are single, ofcourse.

Lady


This one claimed to have been at my shows but I think I know who the jobless slug is.

from "kiette Peters" kietee@gmail.com i have held back from sending you this mail, becasue i don't know what you will think of me. i have attended some of your shows and i really enjoyed them. i like you a lot, if i can be forward, but i will stop there.
i hate to be rejected, so i wait for a go on signal. can you be chased or are you taken?

laspapi's reply: Intriguing e-mail, Ms. Peters. Why don't you come to another show and introduce yourself after?

Enjoy your weekend.


"kiette Peters" kietee@gmail.com Hello,

Sorry I haven't been here. Would have replied last week, but my system went off, and it just got fixed.

Unless I find a way of coming to the shows alone, I cannot introduce myself. But I will have to explain to my boyfriend why I want to go for the show alone. We live together. He also loved your show, but has been quite busy else we would have come again.
Sometime soon

I couldn't be bothered with the charade anymore so I let the imbecile be.

The Girl Whisperer

as published by

the Sunday Guardian of Sept 23


When Love Can’t Pay The Rent

“Boy, nothing in life is free, that’s why I’m asking you, what can you do for me? I’ve got responsibilities, so I’m looking for a man who’s got some money in his hands... no romance without finance”. The lyrics of a hit song a few years back. Men tend to look at women who demand their men have a certain level of comfort, in a judgemental way, regarding this type of woman as overly material, but the truth is, the giddiest romance will die in the face of continuous battering by financial adversity. There are few love stories that can withstand the assault of having little or no money, of having to scratch and scrounge to live from day to day; year in, year out.

This is not a one-way thing. The reality of the times demands that even women must pull their financial weight in relationships too. Women cannot seek equality in the work place, in politics and social recognition but balk at equality in sharing the financial burdens that face couples. Some females are selective in the issues they want equality in, stepping back from all things monetary. Even though it has been the norm for men to be the hunter-gatherers, the world is rapidly evolving and those who will not bear responsibility, no matter which gender, are quickly left behind. Two are better than one, is what the good book says, and a relationship in which the woman participates, is one that is financially secure.

The idealist might ask, “Isn’t this being too clinical about relationships? Where’s the zing? The head rush? The palpitations of the heart? The cold sweats and tremors that wake you up at night? Where’s the romance that we all live for?” I am afraid that even though those things are important in a relationship, it will not sustain a union.
It’s simple really, one person might make enough for both to scrape along on, but two will make double that.

This isn’t about women (or men) seeking out and marrying millionaires, far from it, but you should only hook up with a guy (or girl) who has potential or the partnership becomes a wasted enterprise. If you have ever gone to bed hungry for whatever reason, without access to food until the next day, you will know the feeling. Now imagine this as a way of life, not sure where the next mortgage payment will come from, or the next car instalment, or the school fees for the kids. Yeah, life can be hard.

The alleys of life are littered with many broken dreams and aspirations that were suffocated at birth, mostly because of having a partner, deliberately or otherwise, plucking the feathers of the other, and preventing the aspiring one from flying. It does not matter what kind of background you’re from, you have a right to decide what kind of future you want. It is legitimate to want to be successful, to want to be comfortable, and if your partner does not see eye to eye with you in that regard, you will have serious issues to deal with. Many people will tell you, they just want to be “okay”, whatever that means. In matters like this, seek clarification so you do not end up with a weight around your neck. As Bill Clinton first said of Monica Lewinsky, “I did not have intercourse with that woman”. It was technically not a lie, because Big Bill’s definition of intercourse apparently did not include whatever he and Monica got up to.

Being “okay” in the financial sense for some might involve a couple of good cars, a comfortable house with their names on the title deeds and a bank account/financial portfolio that make them smile no matter how grey the clouds are. I agree with this. If I haven’t gotten there yet, I’m working my way towards it and my partner had better be too, or one day, I’ll be a grizzled old man, wondering in a daze, “what happened?” as young Turks zip past me.

There are very important aspects to a relationship including emotional security, but we should learn never to forget that finances are important to, and your partner should be one that motivates you in that area as well. Money is not the root of all evil, it is the unbridled lust for, and the desire to obtain it by any means necessary, that can be evil. Instead, look to the term, “money is a defence”. It is.