Tuesday, January 31, 2006


What a news day this has been. First some one decided to 'go postal' at the post office in Santa Barbara last night killing 5 and then herself. Then some kids brought a pallet gun aboard a school bus and got everyone a bit nervous. Then an armed robber held up some one at a junior high school forcing them to go on lock down and just as I am about to call it a day, a body washes up on the beach. Lately this place has been feeling like a market 20 something on a weekend and without the choppers or multiple news-mobiles. But we kicked some behinds with our coverage and as far as I know, we were the only station in the nation that had all photos of the postal shooting victims, courtesy of yours truly. The best part, which I am not used to, everyone saying 'Great Job!'. My humble response, ' just doing my job.' Then lets not forget the end of a legacy, the fact that Coretta Scott King died. And ya'lls President has been making some buzzing noise in my ears with this State of the Union address of his. Phew!!! So much bad news, so little time to cover it all. It's just 7.12 and I am already spent and about to crash. Hopefully we wont have any more disasters, I can't take anymore. Give me stories about old people turning 100, enough with the doom and gloom.

Monday, January 30, 2006


Why Do Nigerian Men Feel the Need to Lie

(Before I get into all that, can someone explain to me why a common gallon of orange juice is $7 in Santa Maria and why a bag of Lays potato chips is $3.50? Is it beans? Guess I'll be drinking a lot of water or do it the Ribena way... one cup or Orange Juice to 3 parts of Water....lol)

DISCLAIMER: What you are about to read below is a partly embellished allegorical allusion to some certain reality. Any resemblance to a real person is purely coincidental. Do not take every characterization literarily as they are by no means an accurate reflection of the writer or the characterized muses. Think of James Frey... you dig. Good. Enjoy the write up because I aint talking about 'men' again.

Ok getting straight to the point. I have been 'bit' twice and now I'm 'shyed' and 'shamed'. It really hurts to have your intelligence challenged and your vulnerability proded. Just when I thought I was getting over my trust issues (which I now admit I have) I get hit with another jolting bolt of the reality that is dating nigerian men. Is there some training manual that is being passed around to each of them, because I need to get my hands on one. Why do they all feel the need to lie? Why is it neccessary to concoct and contrive such elaborately schemed stories? Why put all that energy into fabricating a fabulous fib, when the truth is simple and can only set you free? Why do they think their lies will always hold water and never fall apart or be exposed? Why do I always find myself playing the same part in the same script? Why? Why? WHY?

I understand that ya'll want to eat your cake and have it while you sow your oats. That's all good and gravy with me. But please take a cue from the older Nigerian men who wrote the script themselves.... the governors, the senators, the alhajis, the chief-chief's, the otunbas, the Baba Risika's and Papa Nkechi's etc. The men who fit these profiles are usually married with children. The first point of protocol is to make the lady friend, usually of the 20 something Moremi-Hall stock found at Unilag, aware that they will not under any circumstance leave the wife and kids. They don't just tell the girl they are married, but they make it clear they will not leave their family... you can be an addition to that family as junior or trophy wife, or the one that will bear a son, but there's no subtraction. Ok....now trust nigerian girls who like awoof to be all over that deal because the immediate profits far out weigh the loss.es and cons. They agree to this arrangement and the girl even artfully helps the client dodge his wife. They are partners in this deceit. Together they work to fly under the radar. Not that I support this, but the relationship has been clarified and each party know what to to expect going in.

Now why my young nigerian men want to rewrite the rules by dating/courting multiple women and lieing to each and everyone of them is a wonder to me. Playing with people's hearts and emotions is very dangerous, especially when you are not telling them what's really up. Despite my limited dating experience, I have been in that situation, shall I say twice and I don't want to revisit it by recanting because they have been reconciled and we've all moved on and learnt from our experiences. But recently the ugly s#!+ poked its head up again. But better now that later on when I have invested too much Sprint minutes and Cinderella day dreaming into the relationship. Just found out that some dude I have been pillow-prattling (means laughing and talking on the phone late into the night) with and actually started taking a liking to has told me some elaborate lies in his bid to make me feel he really really is 'in to me.' As in I was kinda like, abeg chill out, it is not that serious, we've just started talking and I don't know you like that yet. But I just found out by 'slip of someone's tongue' that ol'boy has a chick that he's been tripping all over the place. He'd told me he was single and was heartbroken from a previous relationship.. blah blah blah.. typical sob story. I don't want to get into the details of the elaborate story so not to identify the perosn, but it's just disappointing and depressing.

As in just tell me from the get that even though you have a girl, you just want to 'test the waters' and see what kind of fish you can catch. I can handle that, afterall we are 'fishers-of-men' and it's a competition these days to find a good nigerian man anyway. Tell me that you are having issues with your girl friend and you need an outlet. I can handle that, after all we all need a little jolt of excitement to spice up some romance in a dying relationship. Tell me you want to have an affair, as in a 'don't get it twisted, it's only sex' kinda thing or that you want me to be your baby mama or some cow-dung like that. I can handle that, in fact it's half-flattery that you think of me in that way. Just tell the freaking truth, which is the fact that you are into me for the boobies and the booty and not the beauty or the brains. I definitely wont gel for you after knowing all of the above, but I will respect you for your honesty. My self esteem and confidence are top notch and intact, and guess what, I can handle the truth. I probably can handle that news better than if you learnt that I was just into the papers in your pockets than I was in the parcel you carry in your pants or that you are not the only one around to cover the bases you missed, if you feel my drift. (But that is not to say that I'm a gold-digger.)

Plus what makes ya'll think that while you are out there triffling around, that we're not going to be doing the same. Actually, that's what the problem is because we probably won't. The fact that ya'll know that many of us were brought up well and don't mess around even if we threaten to do so is what seems to be empowering. You take that for granted. You know what we want to hear and that's what you tell us. You know that deep down, no matter how much 'shakara' and 'ako' we do, that we truly are digging you and that sometimes clouds our judgement. But honey no more clouds here, not even the ozone layer.

I love my naija men, but please, biko, don't profess your undying love and affection to me, mess with my head, my heart and soul, lead me into fantasizing about partaking in carnal affinity with you only to find out it's all a great big fib. All that heart ache is totally unneccessary and not worth the trouble. That stuff is majorly annoying especially for someone like me who takes romance and matters of the heart very serious if not more seriously than many.
If you are not ready to fess up and come clean on everything please don't even try to holler. If you know that you are the type that leans towards polygamy then stay as far away from me as possible. If telling the truth hurts, by all means lie, but just NOT next to me. Just tell the truth and save the drama for your momma.

Saturday, January 28, 2006


You know the Songs, But You Don't Know the Singer

Go to every African party and there's that one song youknow is just your absolute favorite. You want to request it from the DJ but you just don't know the name of the song or the person who sang it. You then bastardize it some more in an attempt to hum the tune. Ya'll know what I am talking about. There is this one particular song that I swear to God no one knows the musician's name. As in I didn't know until today. Forget about Femi's and Tuface Idibia's song getting European accolades and other such awards. This one some has to be by far the most popular African song ever. It is the song that usually gets every body off their seats and gets the dance floor rolling. I mean the speakers start to peel....'tantaran tarra raan raan tarrraan raaaannn tarraaaan raaan.... ' and the room lights up. It brings smiles to everyones face and all get up, hands on head or index finger pointing to the heavens. All cares cast aside, the waist winding and the gyrating begins. It's the ultimate Makossa song with a nameless artist, forgettable at least,, you know the song, 'GAO'.

So my friend Singto sent me this link with so many african music videos. The database was extensive but I was curious to find the video for 'GAO'. I finally found it and it was like a mystery solved. I not only found the video, but Africa's Ultimate One hit Wonder. Who the hell is 'Magic System'? Whoever they are I gotta give them props for that song. I'm yet to hear another song that creates the reaction that 'GAO' does. I also hear there's a Nigerian version. It is timeless just like Nico Mbarga's Sweet Mother (that's another hot song, that's actually the 'Most Popular African Song' worldwide) and honestly I have no clue what in the world they are saying (still don't because my French is whack). I know it has something to do with 'Food' (mange). Anyways below is the link to the 'GAO' video and the lyrics. I am usually late to some of these online discoveries so this might be stale to some of you.



C'est dans ma galère que la go Antou m'a quitté oh ah {x4}

Quand j'avais un peu
Matin midi soir
On été ensemble
A la rue Princesse
Aux mille maquis
Santos payait les poulets
L'argent est fini
Antou a changé de côté
Wari ban nan
Elle a changé de copain

Nan guin nan wan, nan guin nan wan
Nan guin nan wan, nan guin nan wan

Dieu merci pour moi je savais chanter un peu
J'ai fait ma cassette oh on me voit à la télé
Matin midi soir c'est moi je chante à la radio
Antou a vu çà elle dit le gaou a percé
Attends je vais partir le couper

Et on dit premier gaou n'est pas gaou oh
C'est deuxième gaou qui est niata oh ah
Et on dit premier gaou n'est pas gaou oh
C'est deuxième gaou qui est niata oh ah

Dimanche matin koko on frappe à ma porte
A ma grande surprise c'est la go Antou je vois
On s embrasse j'ai dit y'a longtemps qu'on c'est plus revu
Elle veut me mentir elle dit chéri j'avais voyagé
Je suis de retour
Je t'appartiens
Prends moi cadeau, fais ce que tu veux

{au Refrain}

J'ai dit chéri koko qu'est ce que tu veux manger
Sans même hésiter elle me dit poulet braisé

J'ai dit chéri koko c'est poulet tu veux manger
Poulet est trop petit çà peut pas te rassasier
C'est caïman braisé, je vais te donner
Kedjenou d'éléphant, tu vas manger

Nan guin nan wan, nan guin nan wan

Elle est fâché elle dit elle s'en va à la maison
Si elle va à la maison population va me tuer
Je lui ai demandé pardon, elle a accepté
A un moment donné, elle a tout gâté
Elle est quitté dans poulet, elle s'en va dans aloco
Si c'est aloco c'est pas compliqué
C'est plantation de bananes
Tu vas griller
Au l ...

Then there's Genny(...on a different tangent) Nigeria's Gabrielle Union (because she is every darn Nollywood movie just like Gabby is in every black movie) and you can tell she watches a lot of J-lo movies because she's picked up a bit too much J-lo mannerisms. Love her or hate her, ol girl is hot and doing her thing, Lux girl and all. I used to get irritated by some of her movies (the amerikana-jandifies- fakky-fakky type) but I am actually starting to like her quite a bit. I admit I was in denial of her potential and just could not place a finger on what the buzz was but I guess I've finally came around. Lol. Especially after the movie with 'The Professor' where she was a mad woman living with the madman and the nigerian 'Cinderella'. She has a lot of drive and is beautiful. That's just a few things you need to get to the top. Plus I gotta show support to my fellow Igbo sister...lol... her 'Owerri Igbo' is konk. Here's a link to her website and music video.


(Yeah.. finally got my internet connection so I can entertain myself now by writing about life in Santa Maria)

Thursday, January 26, 2006


Where are the Bon-fires and Steam-Rollers

When refering to people, the past tense and past participle of HANG is HANGED (hngd)
To execute by suspending by the neck: They hanged the prisoner at dawn.
Used to express exasperation or disgust: I'll be hanged! Hang it all!

NOT HUNG AS OPRAH SAID.... but Oprah is Oprah so she can say whatever she wants. She can even rewrite the English language BUT people please do not make that kind of grammatical error and think it would fly because you would be egregiously mistaken.

Thanks to Seun Ekunwe and Segun Adeyemi who FLEW out of the window (the one with all the missing louvres) in SS1 Silver back in ISL when I made the exact grammatical error. It was highly embarassing but now I can never make that mistake again.

Monday, January 23, 2006


One Less Car on the Road, A better Planet for Future Generations
Kontri Peeps,
If I told you that I would one day find my self using a bicycle as a means of transportation you would say, 'Nne stop that rough play.' But 'Condition make crayfish waka with walking stick.' So I had to take my rental back yesterday after racking up a bill of $800. So that meant that I either had to chop pedals or slap (walk) to work. I decided to try out my new 'wheels'.... a shiny blue brand new Ladies' Roadmaster "Sport SX" Mountain Bike complete with 26-inch 'spokes' (rims are so last year). I woke up at 30 minuties earlier at 5am in anticipation of the challenge that I faced. Considering that the last time I actively rode a mountain bike or a semblance of one was way back in my village when I was like 15. On a second note, my chopper-bike was wrecked by the time I turned 15 so I was probably riding those big 'Raleigh' palmwine tapper bicyles that came with an air-pump and a silver bell. I bundled up because it was a bit frosty and walked my bicycle out. My people, I mounted the bike and started to push the pedal. But by the time I had been on the bike one minute, I was already out of breath. I was like 'Chineke, are you sure you can do this?'. Before I even got out of the complex I had to stop to rest my legs and breathe. I contemplated taking the bike back to the house and just walking instead. But I was like, no turning back now, I have to at least try and see if it's going to be fun. That's how I now got on the main road, my messenger bag across my back with a reflector flask. My ears started ringing, and I was already panting and out of breath. I was trying very hard not to hit the curb but at one point I looked to my left and right.. no mirrors.. so I tried to turn my head around and when I saw this big ol' trailer I panicked and swerved a bit, trying not to over correct. The trailer moved to the other lane and I moved to the pedestrian curb. I don't want any stories for my father. I crossed the train tracks and passed the factory another traffic light and 13 minutes after the ordeal I was at work. Phew!! That was interesting, I thought to myself, trying to keep my balance as I wobbled in to the building, breathing like i'd just run the Boston Marathon. Sniffing away and ears still ringing. I so need to get back in shape if I plan to put 'miles' on this baby. No one else around here has a bike, at least that they bring to work, so I got the VIP parking spot, in the Hall way next to the vending machine. A few folks were like who owns that nice bike, and I said, loud and proud, 'That's mine!'. Lol.. I need to find a name for her now... Hmh.. I gotta think about that one.

Meanwhile, my new boss decided to let me use one of the news vans till I get a car. What a very nice man. From what I hear you don't meet too many of that kind in this industry. May God bless him abundantly with all he prays and wishes for. While I'm at it, I'll say the same prayer for my old bosses and any future bosses. Just like Jesus, I've got nothing but love and kindness for my fellow man, so please be kind. I'll probably have the van for 2 weeks till I can get a car at an auction or get my uncle to ship one out here to me since it's cheaper in NC.

On Saturday I hung out with my Vietnamese roomates at the Chinese buffet. Cool peeps. Then I went on to the Car dealer to buy a car. My people, these car dealers get even more unscrupulous as you change states. Can you inagine these 'mustards' tried to coax me into signing documents for a car despite my asking to sit on it for another day. As in the stunt they pulled was amazing that had I not started asking some serious questions that made them fluster and flinch did they realize that THIS CHICK CANNOT BE HAD.

Sunday some friends of a friend came and picked me up to take me to LA. They were cool and nice in an 'nna-kinda-way'. But bros, when I say I need a car that wil take me to-and-fro, why in the world are you taking me to a car lot where they sell Bentley. Biko (please) tell me why. I had to ask if they were planning to surprise me by buying me one of those cars or they just wanted to show me 'Hollywood' cars. When we drove in, I just laughed in my head. I looked in at one Bentley and used style to brush my hand on the side. Abeg I have to claim the blessing afterall it was by faith that the woman with the issue of blood in the Bible 'touched' and was healed.
We ate some solid egusi soup at some restaurant called 'Bamboo Cafe'. I didn't front oh because I know fo-shizzle that there aint no fufu or egusi in Santa Maria so I ordered mine with assorted goat meat and shaki (tripe). I took it home cos I could not finish it.

Anyways I gotta load my '26 inch dubs' into the news van and catch up with some peeps on the East Coast. I stil have more gist. Some revelation was made to me on this trip to LA and something that seemed unsignificant put a big smile on my face. I 'll have to write about all that next time, perhaps tomorrow. Stay tuned.

Monday, January 16, 2006


One Week Down, 103 to go, minus 2 weeks Vacation

What a week this has been. I thought I was a soldier, a die hard chick that could damn the consequences, bone up and head out this way. As in I don't remember ever feeling this home-sick since I left Nigeria. If my week of training was long, the weekend was double that. With no fridge, cable or internet yet, I had to resort to hanging out at Walmart, Costco and Target, browsing through their home section. This was after test driving a couple cars and going through the odious task of trying to get approved. E go better! Let me start from Wednesday night, which was fun. I went bowling for the first time o. Hmh.. this african girl can bowl o. I don't know where I got the skill from. May be it's all that yam power. Then there was an attempt by some forces to put my butt on the line on Friday but that didn't work. The guy who was training me called in sick (and true true he was sick because today he sounded really bad, I was afraid i'ld catch something). So I was left alone to run the desk, find and assign stories, on a very slow news day, only 4 days in. You can imagine everything went wrong...paper jam, computer jam, toner jam, momma-bubba-jam etc etc. At to make issues worse, none of the agencies were returning my calls. Eventually, I got everything done without letting anyone see me flustered, If they did, I guess it won't matter because i've only been around 4 days. Then I went to Walmart, bought a 20inch tv for 90 bucks, hopefully it won't crap out when lightening strikes. Thinking it was one of those tvs that had UHF-VHF band like the ones in Nigeria that can get reception from Port Harcourt to Kano, silly me forgot to buy darned antenna so I was staring at the tv and it too was staring at me. I was supposed to go hang out with the crew at the bar at the 'Santa Maria Inn'.. it's like the Hilton/Sherry around here. I don't know what happened but the last I remember was looking at the clock and it was just 9:30pm and then waking up and looking at the clock and it was 1:30 am... I was like "R-U-Kid'n me?"
Saturday came around, I woke up early as usual, for some reason I can't sleep past 8 am any more. Before I'd be snoring away on the weekends till noon. Anyways I got up and headed out to search for 'moto'. Being that i'd been there done that I kinda knew what the deal was so I was not letting none of these dealers try to BS me. But even as I tried to kill time, time was just not wanting to die. I came back to my house at like 3, ate my Carl Jr's Burger aka Hardees, which I am sick of by now because I have already had 4 since I got here. Men it was still like 3.30 in the afternoon and I tried as much as possible to entertain my self. I forgot I brought my laptop so when I found it I was so excited. I went and got my gospel CD, prayed, read my bible, then I got on the phone and tried to talk to a couple a peeps. NO BODY WAS ANSWERING. I looked at my clock again...Chei!! A tokwa n'um o!! Before I realized myself I just started crying....I knew it was coming, but I was not expecting it so soon. It started out with the kind of cry that we like to call 'Mammy Water crying' in my house. The kind of crying that is soft and silent, then I went to the 'Locomotive Engine' type of crying that sounds like a V-dub engine. I cried for like 15 minutes and I just could not stop, my nose was all stuffed up and my head aching and I was just crying. Then I looked to my right, there it was my 2 year contract... I cried even louder, got my pillow and just started screaming into it. Then my crying graduated to the ultimate level, the kind of crying that sounds like an Asthma attack, like you'ld need an oxygen mask. As per no more tears and no more vocal capacity to carry the cry. I didn't want to call anyone at that time but I knew if I wanted to stop crying I had to talk to someone, so I called my girl and she managed to console me after I kinda let it all out. I was like "I-I-I- DON'T LIKE THIS PLACE"....lol. It's kinda funny now, but men it was not funny that Sarruday. Then my uncle now called after I had finished crying and drying my eyes, he now ask, 'So ha're you likin' da place?' That's the wrongest question any one could have asked me at that moment because I JUST STARTED CRYING ALL OVER AGAIN. Then he was like 'You wanna come back?" And still crying I was like 'I can't I am stuck here for 2 years'. Anyways to cut the long story short I went to bed once again at 9:30 after attempting to hang my clothes and color code them (I ran out of hangers and cried a bit about the frustration of that situation). You can imagine I woke up on Sunday morning my eyes swollen shut and red. A few dabbing with warm towel and good concealer got it down a good notch.

Then I got dressed and went to this black baptist church. Another story. They had a capacity of 150 people, but only 20 people where there. I went for their Sunday school at 9.30 and the 11 am service. Under normal circumstances I would have faded, but men.... fade to where biko! I stayed O. They were so nice and excited to see another new black face in town. They were just hugging and cheek-kissing and the pastor even treated me to lunch at Red Lobster (another 1st). They were so funny too with all their stories about their baptist conventions (water melons, falling skirts and getting stuck in the mcdonalds diner booth) I didn't leave their company till 3pm. I guess I'll be visiting them again If I don't become a member (but i'll have to go to a couple more churches before I decide which wil be my new church home)

After that I decided to go and buy me a bicycle o jare. As I am seeing it this car may not come any time soon since they wont allow out of state co-signer. That'll be a sight, one for the tabloids, "Miss Nigeria International Rides a Bicycle to Work". Lol.. una neva jam!!! I also bought an antenna because I wanted to make sure I coudl watch Desperate Housewives. BUT GUES WHAT!!! Fuzzy reception. The ABC station is in Santa Barbara and I gues with all the mountains, hills and valleys you just can't get them clearly this far north into the county. My people, this is how desperate some situations can be that you just need 'extra-desperate plans'. I got a couple of bobby pins, bent and twisted and linked them in a funny way that I at least was able to LISTEN to the show without static and see just a little bit of color. I have never seen tv reception as bad as this, not even in my village. Abeg my people join me and laugh small. Sometimes laughter can cure some ailments that doctors can't even diagnose.

But God is good and I must say this year appears to be my year of unexpected favor. First I have to be bold, be courageous and have faith that i've made the right decision to head west. I've not signed that contract yet, I am reading and marinating every sentence word for word. I'll then fax it to my agent and a lawyer friend to check it out and double check. I just hate signing contracts or anything in general these days, I have what I call the 'Faustus Syndrome' (don't know if anyone else has used that phrase)...it always feels like I am signing away my soul to the devil. I'm sure I am not the only who gets that way.

Anywho, another week's begun... we go jam later.

Monday, January 09, 2006


Is this still Yankee or did I go to Mexico

Kontri Peeps!!!

What's Gwan? Na wa oh. A week ago I didn't know how I would transport myslef to this California, but here I am. It goes to show that where there's a will there's a way. Didn't get to sell my car yet, but a family member (not in Charlotte) has decided to buy it on behalf of another family member also in search of the American dream. See that's the kind of coorporation that needs to exist in families and communities. Everyone joins in to lend a hand in elevating one another not tearing down, back biting and back stabbing. As in if you have the resources or the knowledge and are able to help your fellow man without neccessarily spoon feeding you may never understand how great a good or an impact you have made in changing not just that one event in that person's life, but their whole life entirely.

Anyways enough of my 'Socratizing'. I got to Santa Maria Thursday afternoon, Des and Ndidi took me to the Airport at around 5 am. My flight was at 6.30 and when It was time to go through security, not a dry eye in the room. Got to Cali and drove up from LAX airport. Hmh trust your sister to have her eyes bulging wide open just in case a Hollywood superstar like Jessica Simpson or J-lo in that their airport. Anyone who spotted me out would have suspected my identity with the way I was lifting 70 pound suitcases, all three of them and all my hand luggage.
I had reserved a compact, the cheapest and the most gas effecient, but they had to upgrade me to this long Impala because my suitcases could not fit in the tiny Aveo. One suitcase alone took up the whole back seat.
As I was just driving north on Highway 101, the scenery was breath taking. I was grinning from ear to ear and screaming ' water' like a mad woman at the sight of the Ocean. It was similar to the feeling I used to get when one of our parents decided to treat us to a trip to Bar-beach way back in the day. I think it's got something to do with my mental state that the sight of a massive body of water gets me elated and raises my spirits. If nothing else, this is what always has me in awe at the power of God and his awesome wonders of creation. Reminding me of how tiny I am in His presence. I am yet to go to the beach, I know when I do I will probably break down in tears like I did when I first went to Myrtle Beach (crocodile tears, the kind where you cry and laugh at the same time).

Got to my hotel around 3pm, settled in and drove around town and found some food, newspapers, car ads, made some runs to car dealerships, looking at 'rooms', watched the various newscasts before calling it a night. The next day I headed to the station armed with my 'Thanks for Hiring me Cards'. Filled out my paper work and voiced out the fact that this move was not easy at all for me o. I don't know if it was the cards, that my new boss is always in a Santa Claus mood or they really want me to feel welcomed. Lets just say that from now on I need to change my middle name from 'Agnes' to 'Favor'. The initial memo signed as part of my relocation package became null an void, only to include a lot more than I expected. My people helep me sing this chorus, 'God You are so good... God You are kind.. God you are wonderful... my God you are Excellent....(excellent) Excellent is your name.... etc etc.'

Continued searching for deals on cars. Got bored and decided to stop by their mall. All Ya'll who think you have limited shopping options in North Carolina, wait till you come to 'Santana-Maria' where Walmart is the mall. By the way, I saw my first black person 24 hours after I had been in the town and soon after they all started popping up. At first I had begun to worry. It was kinda funny how whenever one showed up, they always smiled and said an audible hello. There eyes, like mine, would also light up as if to say 'Yee!! Black person!!' . Then I also begun to notice how I was getting stared down every where I went. People would shamelessly look me from head to toe as if I was a rarity in these parts. Well I guess I was and since most of the population here is of Hispanic origin ( a lot of migrant workers) it sort of explained it. This one chick at the Walmart (not just Walmart o... but the Walmart) looked me from the head to eyeball to toe not minding that I was a hairs length away. Haba!! May be I am also paranoid because I am obvioulsy different or because I have my own personal prejudice, which I won't deny because I have never been around this many spanish speaking people. You think you are foreign in North Carolina, you never jam. I feel like I am in Mexico..there's nothing more culture shocking than a West African in Mexico. Imagine that. Actually I think this is the same way I felt when there were just a bit too many black people for me in Atlanta and a bit too many White people in Sarasota. May be it's a bit too much to ask of every city, and perhaps unrealistic, but darnit give me a melting pot, where there's every blend of coffee and there I shall be at my most comfortable (Africa doesn't count...well I am sure white people visiting there too will experience some of this stuff)

I finally found an apartment which is walking distance from my job so that knocks out the getting a car right away plan. What the heck if I need to go hang with peeps in LA, all 'one' of them, I'll rent a car. Turns out I was initially going to pay $500 for one sardine box disguised as a room in some lady's house. The house and family was nice but that room get as e be. I stalled until finally last night I checked out this town house that some Vietnamese dude and his friend had bought. They spent half a mil on that crib and are renting out the rooms. Must be nice...My time is coming soon and very soon. The closet in my new room is twice the size of the first room I saw for $500. As in only a twin bed could fit in that one but in this closet you could fit in a full size bed sef, and it was just a $150 more. I'ld rather that than pay $1200 for an apartment around here. Abeg I need to save and pay FAFSA back.

Sunday came around and I decided to drive to this baptist church that's walking distance to my new place. Just perfect....but one problem though. The church service they had on Sunday was more like a funeral or a b-rated concert performance at a retirment home. I apologised to the Lord but I had to leave to maintain my sanity especially considering the fact that this would be my church home for this first two months that I shall be carless.

Drove around town a couple more times trying to find another church to save my Sunday, after all it was just 11:30. I forgot that these churches were American churches that worked on American time, not Jubilee Christian Church that works on African time with the sermon going to 2 O' Clock sef. As in by the time I got to my next church destination I felt like an idiot when as I started walking in, wind blowing my weave and exposing my tracks and balding temple, people were walking out. I just had to ask to make sure that service was over and that was why they were coming out of the church. DUH!!

My first day at work today, was 'OK', the assignment desk computer system is not very user friendly. Anyways I have over stayed my time at work because I do not have anything in my room, no bed, no curtains nada. I shall be sleeping on an air mattress till I can find an affordable bed on craigslist. Life's a hustle sometimes but it's only a means to an end. I shall continue this gist at another time. Once I settle down and get my internet up and running I will attempt to stop talking too much about myself, It can be 'annoying' sometimes (imagine if you were me right now having to listen to me sing because there's nothing to do and no one to talk to cos everybody on the east coast is sleeping by 8pm).

Oh by the way...I'M PAYING TAX IN THE SAME COUNTY AS OPRAH...WHOOOOPPIIEEE!!!! LOL (she probably owns property in several..but allow me to bask in this knowledge)

Thursday, January 05, 2006


In a few minutes I leave NC for California. I guess my hippy initiation has come full circle and I am off to 'Hippydom'. Goodbye Charlotte and all your BS. As for Chapel Hill, I shall see you later, in fact if anyone asks, I am from Chapel Hill , ofcourse by way of Naij. I'll miss so many things and my friends, but I gotta go follow my destiny as laid out by my maker. My next post shall be from Arnold country. To NC folks, thanks for all the encouragement...'I'll pray for ya'll more than i'll pray for myself ':) Peace ...Love and nuff respect.

In the words of a late school mate (more like as often said by him)

I have no fame
And I play no game
But all the same
I sign my name..... 'Addy'