The Return Of Laspapi

Laspapi disappeared off the face of the earth, (well off the virtual world) for a while. To those who expressed concern via yahoo!, blogville and facebook, I say thank you.

There were many things responsible- An illness out of the blue that had me stretched out flat (laspapi rarely falls ill), a cruel schedule for drama rehearsals for Things Fall Apart at Terra Kulture, an equally fierce schedule (as a Producer for the TV talk show- Moments with Mo...)I was in the land of twins- Igbo Ora, Oyo State on Monday, flew into Benin for an appointment at the palace of the Oba on Tuesday) and am contemplating Abuja and Adamawa in a couple of days.

I'm hale and hearty now, and hoping I can take my brother's advice and rest more.

The Girl Whisperer

as published by the Sunday Guardian

of August 10

A Perfect World

In a perfect world, the beautiful memories of childhood would be carried into adulthood. The joys that were so strong then and the satisfaction derived from simple things would remain. There would still be pleasure at seeing a sunset, at smelling the freshly cut green, green grass on a summer holiday. The smile that would come to the face on seeing close friends would be genuine, and the admiration of certain members of the opposite sex (or the dislike of them) would be pure, totally lacking guile.

In a perfect world, there would be no two-timing; one partner being enough for everyone. The partner in issue would be the perfect partner, able to meet every need; a bit like some romance flick at the cinemas. You meet your perfect partner and you are always happy- a perfect world.

There is a problem with not being able to dream this way, with losing the ability to be like Peter Pan; what happens when you stop dreaming is that life loses a lot of its pleasures. You walk through the world with hooded eyes, contemplating, calculating and looking for the angle, the opportunity to take advantage. The loss of childhood and its influences is not a sign of maturity; it is some form of death. The ability to laugh from the heart is a thing of wonder and should be preserved even if you get to be as old as Methuselah.

‘Jamming Jay’, I called out to a friend one day, his name through the heady days of university (I went to a real university-Great Ife). He had become an influential banker, an important man. He answered back with a shout across the open, public space we were in. Another ‘friend’ of ours from those days looked on in disapproval and asked, ‘You still call each other those names?’ Jamming Jay (real name-Jaiye) and I turned to contemplate him with interest. We recognized without words being exchanged that this was an unhappy man and that he would make his children unhappy. ‘Don’t laugh’, ‘don’t run’, ‘don’t smile’, ‘don’t jump’. My favourite uncle is in his seventies. It fascinates me to hear his friends call him his nickname- ‘boy’.

It would be a perfect world if your partner didn’t leave you for someone younger, richer, better educated, more articulate. A perfect world would be one where loved ones weren’t taken away by sickness, where they didn’t fall into debt and have their banks foreclose on their property. A perfect world would be where you could hold your partner’s hand in public, ten years after you first met, and be totally engrossed with and in each other.

Sometimes, my heart is heavy because I recognise there are many people around me who have stopped dreaming, who have stopped believing, who have allowed life to dictate the pace they must move at. There is beauty in the world, a lot of it and we can make it as rich as possible by holding on to the things that we found pleasure in as we walked through childhood and thereafter became adults.

I met my friend, Shadow, many years ago, I was sixteen, my A-level days. He was 9 days younger than me and we clicked from first sight, genuinely liking each other. It was a friendship even our parents liked and encouraged. We found the same things funny, ‘hated’ the same people, ended up in the same fights, grinned at the same group of girls, and ended up studying the same course at university. (He was more of an influence on me in the university matter, much more than anyone else I knew). Shadow’s somewhere in Asia now, practising law and doing very well for himself, but the memories of those days keep me company sometimes when I am by myself. It strikes me as odd when people say they are bored. How can life be boring? Search through your mind, your memory banks, relive moments of joy, plan for the future, jettison the pain of the past but don’t tell anyone you’re bored.

In a perfect world, my childhood friend, Rasheed Thanni, would be alive. We would sit together over a cool drink and remember when we ran around the Shell Club area in shorts looking for adventures like Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. We would recall when as twelve year olds, we would go to the beach (without permission) and swim till our eyes were red from the salt water and sand was caked in every orifice. And then the trip home where we would pray our parents hadn’t realised we’d been out all day. Rasheed would pluck an eye-lash and place it on the hair of his head. Apparently, it made those you were in trouble with, forget. In a perfect world, my friend Rasheed would be with his two daughters in Britain, and sometimes on the phone, we would recall how we used to chase after fire trucks in Surulere and swim in the murky swampy waters of what later became the Iponri Housing Estate.

We must preserve as many of our memories as made us smile, as made us better people. Life has too many reality checks already, better for us to sometimes travel in our minds, to a time when it was a perfect world.

Bernie's Exit

I heard news that saddened me. Bernie Mac died aged 51.

I never met him but he brought immense sunshine into my life with his ways on his TV show, in Russel Simmon's Def Comedy Jams, as Pastor Clever in Ice Cube's Friday Movie Trilogy and in many other films.

And I will always remember his catch-phrase before his comedy routines- 'I ain't afraid o' you, m%^&^%$£"*^s.

Thank you, Mr.Mac.

I salute a man who left beautiful memories behind.

The Girl Whisperer

as published by the Sunday Guardian

of July 20

Burning Bridges

It was the Whisperer’s birthday last Tuesday and as some of those who loved him gathered and celebrated, he had cause to reflect on the many paths he has walked on, the many things he has seen and the many places he has been in.

The Whisperer, over the years, has crossed many bridges into unchartered territory and like many others who have gone before him, has wondered whether it is appropriate to burn the bridges he has crossed. Let’s get the analogy right. When soldiers go to war, there are times they are compelled by their commanding officers to cross bridges as they retreat or advance to occupy new places and to burn these bridges down after crossing them. This burning might serve several purposes; prevent the enemy from following them into the new place or prevent the men who have themselves crossed the bridge from deserting and running back across the bridge in the face of a fierce attack. It is an order that tells the men involved they have no options; they must stay and fight for the land they occupy, and sometimes to the death. The situation can be the same in relationships. Often, we enter into new relationships and it seems it is the most beautiful thing in the world, the best place to be, yet for some reason, we are unable to burn our bridges completely and give our total commitment to the ‘new land’ we have found.

We do not cut ties with former ‘soul mates’, aspiring suitors, ‘close friends’. We save them for a rainy day, for who knows what might lie across the bridge and the bridge is left intact for the day we might need to race across it in retreat. Sometimes people leave their bridges unscathed without even realizing it, but it is left whole, nonetheless. In this matter, it means the person who has refused to destroy bridges is either leaving an escape route (meaning he or she will not fight too hard for the new place) or is subtly permitting all his or her old ties to cross over when those ties finally make up their minds they want to do so.

The bridge that is left intact is in itself a message to whatever or whoever might have existed in the past that a chance still exists for enemy activity. It doesn’t matter whether this is physical betrayal or an emotional one. Sometimes, betrayal is betrayal.

The problem that occurs in the matter of the bridges left intact is that a subliminal message is passed to all those who were once important in the life of the person in question. The message is that there is still room. It is a message that also indicates your respect for your partner is not total and predators, new and old ones will cross the bridge when the time comes, throwing your relationship into disarray.

The Whisperer speaks today. If you notice the existence of a bridge in the life of your partner (some of them build mighty bridges with suspensions that divide so ships can pass under and then come together again), bring it to his or her attention and make it clear there is a problem that needs resolving. I’m not talking about bridges made of straw that cannot bear the weight of a man; the ones in issue here are those built so firmly by structural engineers that earthquakes cannot shake. Calmly point out the complications the existence of this bridge might cause in your lives, making clear that a person who does not let go of the shore will never see new horizons. If this person refuses to blow up the bridge, you cross that bridge yourself and burn it down behind you so that this disrespectful partner may never be able to cross over again to you.

Drastic remedy, you may say? Yes, there are no apologies for this recommendation, drastic situations require drastic remedies and the stakes are high- your heart. If your true love still says the company of a former partner is where he or she needs to go to find rest, it’s time you did a rethink. Regard yourself with the respect you should have and move on.

Some would ask- ‘What if I burn my bridges and I find out too late that it is a bad place I am in and there is no way to get out?’ The mark of adulthood is that you pause to reflect before you step into any situation. It’s your life and you cannot hold another responsible for the position you are in. Look carefully across the bridge before you cross over, and when you finally decide to walk across it, make up your mind it is coming down. For a relationship to work there can be no alternatives, no options.

So it’s the Whisperer’s birth-week and as he sits and reflects on the many bridges blown up behind him and as he contemplates the smouldering ruins of entire cities obliterated so as to make a new life for himself, he remembers people he has come across and who have become great friends.

Today, the Whisperer salutes two of these beautiful people, Nwando also known as dscr?be, and aramide whose other name is mona. The world would be a much better place if it had more of this sort. Birthdays are for reminiscing and for resolving matters. May the future be joyous for all those who love the Whisperer. For those who might not love him, well... they must look elsewhere for prayers.

50 years on, Theatre@Terra presents

live on stage,

Chinua Achebe’s classic work-

Things Fall Apart

Every Sunday in August


Written by Chinua Achebe
Adapted for the stage by Biyi Bandele
Directed by Wole Oguntokun

Assistant Directors-Kenneth Uphopho, Sunkanmi Adebayo

(Plus a pre-show bonus of drama sketches written by Wole Soyinka)

Venue- Terra Kulture, Tiamiyu Savage St, Victoria Island
Time- 3pm and 6pm
Tickets – N2000
Produced By Wole Oguntokun

A Terra Kulture- Jasonvision Ltd -Hyve Ltd Production

For Tickets and Enquiries, please call 0702 836 7228, 0808 123 9477 or e-mail laspapi@yahoo.com

Kachifo Limited, the publisher of Farafina Magazine and Farafina books, is proud to announce the release of Weaverbird, a collection of exciting new work written by Nigerians and exploring the major themes of our contemporary experience. Weaverbird is out in major bookstores and is sold at a recommended retail price of N1500.

SYNOPSIS

Weaverbird is a collection of fourteen short stories touching all aspects of Nigerian life—from the deeply personal to the overtly political. National crises like corruption and conflict in the Niger Delta are explored, but also individual experiences of love, sex and pride. Many of the stories also balance the complex interplay and contradictions between the individual and the social, so that Ayodele Ayogbami's "Shadow of Eclipse", for instance, is at once the tale of a young girl's desperate choice to sell her body and a commentary on the national condition. Other authors in the collection are bold, even provocative, in their choices: Uche Umezurike in his "A Night So Damp" confronts homosexuality, an issue most Nigerians would rather silence, and Tolu Ogunlesi writes about how corruption in Nigeria corrupts even the seemingly incorruptible.



Edited by Akin Adesokan, Ike Anya, Sarah Ladipo Manyika and Ike Oguine, Weaverbird presents a wonderfully thought-provoking body of new Nigerian writing.

Featured authors are: Ike Oguine, Adebayo Ayobami, Unoma Azuah, Khalidah Bello, Ike Okonta, Ikhide Ikheola, Mogbolahan Koya-Oyagbola, Ayodele Arigbagbu, Tolu Ogunlesi, Shylle Shonoiki, E.C Osondu, Victor Ehikhamenor, Tade Ipadeola and Uche Peter Umez.

The Girl Whisperer

as published by

The Sunday Guardian

of July 13

Damaged Goods

Somewhere out there, we all know one, if not several people whom we and the rest of society, could term as damaged. In our eyes, their appeal is lessened because they have had bad relationships, bad marriages, or gone through terrible times, ending up being 'wounded' in the process. They bear this mark like the mark of Cain after he killed his brother, Abel, and all cringe at their arrival into gatherings and their joining of conversations. Being damaged is not about physical injuries; it’s the loss of face in front of friends, the disgrace in the eyes of the society, the shame that hits us harder than a physical blow ever could when a partner walks out on us, the stigma that follows us like we have the plague when we make mistakes in relationships. It is what we assume to be the loss of our place in the strata of society, the inability to look the Joneses in the eye and relate to them as equals because we are now alone. It is a sad place to be, a heavy cross to carry and many never recover, never finding their strength or pride again. As an aside, those who do not think it possible to rise up from that twilight zone of defeat should learn from the Whisperer, you can get up, you can get back to your feet and walk away with your head held up high. Nothing is impossible except what we allow to be, and in the hazy land of half-shadows where loss and defeat lies, it is good to remember that life was made for us to keep moving, and forward too.

People can be ‘damaged’ in many ways; getting entangled with the wrong sort and not recovering from the trauma of a break-up with this person, the physical loss of a loved one, a betrayal of trust on either side and other examples too many to mention.

Dolly Parton sang of a broken heart and the desire to start a new life in her song, ‘Bargain Store’- ‘My heart is like unto a bargain store, you may find just what you’re looking for; if you don’t mind the fact the merchandise is used; with a little love, it could be as good as new’. The problem however, is that many are content to wallow in self-pity, to take defeat as a personal friend and stay in its company for indefinite periods, instead of grabbing life by the scruff of the neck and continuing on the journey they started on irrespective of who has left them for dead.

The female who spends seven long years in a relationship with a male she once loved and trusted and who suddenly gets ditched by that male for reasons she cannot begin to comprehend, must learn to shrug off the pain like water off a duck’s back, take the blow on the chin 'like a man' and continue moving. You must never let anything grind your life, your ambitions and your hopes to a halt. We often only get one shot at life, it’s important to make sure the shot is a clear one, free of obstruction and any other distractions. If you are slapped in the face by a situation that has no precedence in your experiences, you must remember that even though the situation is one that is new to you, there are millions of others who have gone through what you are wading through and lived to tell the tale. You must make up your mind (like the donkey that was rejected for its age and worth, and thrown into a large ditch where there seemed no escape) that ‘you must shake it off, stomp on it and rise a little higher’. The need to feel sorry for ourselves is what leaves us on our knees when we should rise to our feet and continue the journey that was interrupted for whatever reason.

If you are unprepared for a blow, anyone can hit you without warning, making you fall to your knees. It then becomes your responsibility to decide whether you want to stay down or get up and re-join life’s race at a fast trot. You do not need a tag to let you know how valuable you are. Self-worth comes from within and no other man can validate you. Many years ago, I fell in love with a D.H. Lawrence poem. It went thus- ‘I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself; a small bird will drop frozen dead from its bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.’ When life and society gives us a tag, we must remember it is our prerogative to choose to accept the tag or to decline. Surrendering to the tag ‘damaged goods’, is a sure sign of a defeated mind and spirit. Humans naturally, are given indomitable wills but often we tend to forget that the heart has the ability to bend like a reed but is a very hard thing to break. If the partner of your dreams walks away from you, do not spend the rest of your life castigating yourself and paying penance. If in truth, the break-up was his fault and you were left without a chance to salvage what you had hoped would be forever, gather your dignity around you like a cloak, hold your head up high, and let your pride support you in moments like this. Finally, the Whisperer says, you are only worth as much as you value yourself. No one will ever lend value to damaged goods, therefore, reject the tag and open your heart to new business. One’s life is an important possession, be careful about whom you let give it names.