Beasts of no nation

Saying farewell to youth

I had cause recently to read up on 'night sweats'. I did this on the Internet, as you do, when you need to find out more about something that's been on your mind. Okay, I guess I have to admit at this point that I have in fact been suffering from night sweats, a condition that has meant that in recent times my night's sleep has been disrupted far too frequently. So I searched for more information on the web and narrowed my search down to "night sweats in men". All the sources I read, after having excluded various other medical conditions that may be indicated by night sweats, were pointing towards one thing: Andropause, or the Male Menopause, also sometimes described as Androgen Deficiency of the Ageing Male (ADAM). (The word Decline is sometimes substituted for Deficiency).

I would not be entirely honest if I said that I'd heard of the term andropause before now. And even from the literature that I've come across, it is clear that there is considerable controversy among the experts as to whether andropause, or the male menopause, is a valid concept at all. However, it seems undisputed that there are distinct biological changes that take place in men during mid-life, which are comparable in some ways to the female menopause, even though it is also undisputed that unlike women, men can continue to reproduce well into old age.

Menopause is a "complete cessation of reproductive ability caused by the shutting down of the female reproductive system.." Andropause on the other hand is "a decline in the male hormone testosterone. This drop in testosterone is considered to lead in some cases to loss of energy and concentration, depression and mood swings. And while andropause does not cause a man's reproductive system to stop working altogether, many suffer bouts of impotence.." (cough!)

I won't bother you too much with all the technical details, which I'm sure all of us are perfectly capable of scouring the Internet for. I do wish however, to go a bit further by saying that apart from the night sweats, several of the other supposed symptoms of andropause that I discovered during my search, do in fact apply to me as well. So what are those symptoms and what is my response to each of them?

• Hot flashes ................. Not sure
• Excessive perspiration .... Most definitely
• Loss of libido ............... Maybe
• Impotence .................. No comment
• Anxiety ..................... Sometimes
• Depression ................. I think so
• Impaired memory ......... Can't remember
• Lack of concentration .... Maybe
• Fatigue ..................... Sometimes
• Insomnia .................... Yes definitely, but mostly because of the night sweats

So you see I do have cause to be concerned that andropause, the male menopause, is now a reality for me. I have seen suggestions for "treatment", such as hormone replacement therapy. But this holds no appeal for me, since I would rather that I allowed myself to age gracefully. Two days ago I sat in the barber's chair, watching as clumps of my cropped hair fell from my head into my lap. I was keen to take a closer look to see how many grey hairs I could find. Well, there weren't many, but there were definitely more greys than the last time I sat in that same chair.

And talking about this now is not out of place, because only this evening I was informed of my impending appointment as an Elder in the church. It doesn't seem that long ago that I was attending the Young Men's Group meetings. Well, I suppose the time comes when each of us must confront the reality of ageing. But have no doubt, I intend to wear all of my grey hair with pride..

Postscript

And recently I have noticed that people have been referring to me as "Sir" when they talk to me; strangers, some even of my mother's age.. Hmm, I know about the traditional English politeness, but this is nothing to do with that.. I'm not sure if I'll get used to being called Sir, or even whether I like being so called..

Lean tidings at Christmastime

The forecasts are for weak disposable income growth in this country for the coming year and possibly beyond. The true effects of fiscal tightening are expected to become more apparent going forward. But for me it's as if my disposable income has been in the grip of decline for several months already as I find that I'm just not able to do the sorts of things that I used to do before.

About a week before Christmas I caught myself carefully examining every single detail appearing on the receipt the checkout lady at the supermarket handed to me. This is something that under normal circumstances I would be the one to scowl under my breath when the person standing before me in the checkout queue was there wasting everybody's time by closely inspecting their receipt. After all these were items that they themselves had selected from the shelves. But on this day I saw that I had spent at least one-third more than I thought the shopping should cost, and I thought perhaps there might be some mistake or something. But no, there was no mistake at all. It seems that all that talk on the news about rising prices of food and other household products is true after all.

Ah yes, Christmas.. that time of year again. Alarming as this may seem to some, I have spent nearly every Christmas over the last two decades by myself. Well, it's not because I want to be alone, it's usually been because everyone I know always has somewhere else they want to be (or have to be) at Christmas. Sometimes, one or other of my siblings is feeling rich enough to make the long trip to spend Christmas in my city and this has been lovely when it has happened. For some odd reason though, on my part, I'm reluctant to impose myself on others at Christmastime, when I know what people really want to do is to be with their husband or wife and their children. Of course I've been invited several times to different people's homes, but having consistently been politely declined in the past, those invites have become less and less frequent.

So, for me, Christmas has evolved into ME time, a time when I can selfishly shamelessly and mindlessly indulge myself prodigiously in vices of all kinds, ranging from chocolate to pornography; a time when I can treat myself to an expensive item (or two); a time for toying with the idea of whether I should splash out on the TAG Heuer or the Longines and maybe fantasise about that Patek Philippe I've been ogling for months. And then of course the wardrobe is due for its yearly update and characteristically I would tease myself by flirting with the idea of purchasing a couple of bespoke suits from an insanely expensive gentleman's outfitters, knowing full well that this is way beyond my means. Eventually I would settle for some middle of the road off-the-rack suit or two from a reasonably respectable gentlemen's clothing store.

This was just to give an idea of how Christmas and the prelude to it have been in the past, at least until the Christmas of 2009. Christmas 2010 however, has been decidedly different. Which brings us back at where this post started, the hike in the cost of living. This year has shot past and I've found myself so busy with seeing to the day-to-day that by the middle of December I was wishing it was possible to have the Christmas postponed for another couple of weeks. I simply was not in the position that I'm accustomed to being when this time of year comes around. 

Christmas has now come and gone and like most people I have celebrated it in the best way that I could. No, I did not acquire any luxury items for myself (for obvious reasons), but I did receive a few gifts from others, notably, a gaudy ornamental mug and a fruit bowl. In keeping with the low key I too handed out numerous greeting cards, a couple of cosmetics gift packs and some handkerchiefs. Somewhat embarrassing really, but nothing compared to what is portended for the lean times ahead. Today I took the car out for a good shine and polish since for the time being and indeed for the foreseeable future, a car upgrade is completely ruled out.

On Boko Haram..

John Campbell of the Council on Foreign Relations (CFR) sounding the alarm on Boko Haram in November 2010. Mr Campbell was pointing out that "deteriorating economic and social conditions in Northern Nigeria are behind the recurring upsurge in Boko Haram's activity".

Mr Campbell also wrote this blog after the bombing of the UN office building in Abuja, Nigeria last Friday, in which he suggests that although Boko Haram has not been part of an international terrorist movement, the group has doubtlessly had contact with Al-Qaeda in the Maghreb and with Al-Shabaab. (For more of Campbell on Nigeria, click here).

African Roar 2011 selections..

I have reproduced this posting which first appeared on Ivor W. Hartman. Ivor had already notified me privately that I am one of the authors whose stories have been selected for the 2011 edition of African Roar, an eclectic anthology of short fiction by African writers. See here too.

"African Roar 2011 Selections

It gives us (Emmanuel Sigauke and Ivor W. Hartman) great pleasure to announce the selections for the next annual StoryTime anthology African Roar 2011. Congratulations to all who made it through the selection process, and thank you to everyone who entered!

Chanting Shadows by Mbonisi P. Ncube

The Times by Dango Mkandawire

Out of Memory by Emmanuel Iduma

Masvingo neCarpet Thamsanqa Ncube

Diner Ten by Ivor W. Hartmann

Missing a Thing of Beauty by Abigail George

Water Wahala by Isaac Neequaye

Longing for Home by Hajira Amla

Snakes Will Follow You by Emmanuel Sigauke

The Echo of Silence Delta Law Milayo Ndou

Snake of the Niger Delta by Chimdindu Mazi-Njoku

The Saxophonist by Anengiyefa

Letter to my Son by Joy Isi Bewaji

Waiting for April by Damilola Ajayi

A Writer's Lot by Zukiswa Wanner

Witch's Brew by Stanely Ruzvidzo Mupfudza

To the Woods with a Girl by Masimba Musodza

Silent Night, Bloody Night by Ayodele Morocco-Clarke

Lose Myself by Uche Peter Umez

Uncle Jeffrey by Murenga Joseph Chikowero

Because of my Wife by Kenechukwu Obi

The Orange Barn by Sarudzai Mubvakure

PS: The various parts of my story are posted on this blog. The easiest way to find them is by using the search tool on this page.

Yetunde's blog

A couple of weeks ago, my neighbour who attends the same church as I do gave me some food to take home. In the food container that she handed to me was ayemashe (or ayamashe), a particularly spicy but extremely delicious traditional stew of the Ijebu people, among Nigeria's Yoruba population. Its not unusual for me to receive gifts of food from ladies at church, since perhaps they think that not having a wife must mean that I am under-nourished. They seem to have a desire to ensure that I receive proper nourishment and get all the vitamins that I need. Well, I don't know anyone who turns down perfectly good home-cooked food when its so freely offered. And I do not wish to be the first person I know who does. So of course such gifts are gladly (and gratefully) accepted, even if the ultimate benefit to me is that I'm spared having to shop for and cook food until all that free food has run out. This last time it was ayemashe.

Ayemashe is unique. For me while growing up was a mystery. Nothing that we ate at home, at our friends' or relatives' houses, at parties, or anywhere, even came close to tasting like ayemashe, that greenish-brownish stew with little pieces of meat in it, usually served with white rice. For many years it was offered mainly at small informal eating places known as buka, (or bukateria, a play on the word cafeteria), and was available with rice for a small amount. As far as I knew ayemashe was a delicacy that was consumed only once in a while. It seemed to me that only a relatively small number of people knew how to prepare it, and that they kept their secret close to their chests.

I have recently observed, however, that ayemashe has become more readily available, and is served at many Nigerian restaurants at home and abroad, sometimes appearing on the menu as "designer stew". What this means of course is that more and more people have learned how to cook it. So after joyfully consuming all of the ayemashe that Bisola (my neighbour) gave me, the next time we were in the car together on the way home from church I asked her for the recipe, which when it was revealed to me turned out to be surprisingly simple. And from that moment on I was determined to cook ayemashe for myself, but I thought I should search online to see if anyone else had done something similar and posted it. In doing so I happened upon Yetunde's blog, which I must admit I'm now totally hooked on.

The photo at the top of this post is ayemashe on rice, but its not mine. It's borrowed from Avartsy Cooking, Yetunde's blog. I haven't summoned the courage to cook mine yet, but going through her blog has opened my eyes to all kinds of possibilities and the kitchen beckons now more strongly than ever before. I should be keeping you posted.

Ugandan High Court restrains tabloid..

After a Ugandan tabloid newspaper for the second time published the names and photos of 14 men it identified as gay men in a country where homosexuality can lead to persecution and lengthy jail terms and has even prompted calls for the death sentence, a gay rights group countered by today obtaining an injunction from Uganda's High Court blocking any further publication of similar material. In a previous edition, the tabloid pictured 15 men it alleged were gay. Then, the publication also quoted an unnamed religious leader calling for gays to be hanged, but the most recent issue did not advocate violence.

The lead article in the Rolling Stone newspaper (no relation to the US magazine by the same name) entitled "Men of Shame Part II", pictured 14 men identified as "generals" of the gay movement in Uganda. Says editor Giles Muhame "They published their pictures on a gay networking website, so that was enough evidence for us," adding that the paper did not contact the men before publishing their pictures.

In the paper's Editorial, editor Muhame explained his paper's motivation for focussing on homosexuality..

"A cross-section of heartless homosexuals is seriously recruiting and brainwashing unsuspecting kids into gay circles.."

When queried by AFP Muhame admitted that he had no evidence that the 14 identified men were involved with youths, but he believed exposing them had "news value".

The gay rights group Sexual Minorities Uganda (SMUG) secured a court injunction restraining The Rolling Stone newspaper from publishing any similar material. Justice Vincent Musoke-Kibuuka of the Kampala High Court upon an application by SMUG granted an "interim Order restraining Rolling Stone (or any affiliated publication) from any further publication of the identity of any person perceived by them to be gay, lesbian or homosexual."

Justice Musoke-Kibuuka referred to the editorial material as "an infringement or invasion of the right to privacy" of the individuals identified. A further hearing is scheduled for 23 November.

The paper did not secure the services of a legal representative and there was no lawyer present in court on their behalf. Agence France Presse confirms that when they notified Muhame of the court's ruling he was defiant, saying..

"We will publish more pictures but in a diplomatic way, so that we can dodge the law. We might not name them as homos, but the public will know what they are."

By the way, Rolling Stone is not a licensed newspaper and had been instructed since last month to desist from publishing until it receives its licence from the Uganda Media Council. Muhame confirmed that the paper had not yet received its licence but decided to publish regardless.

Commenting on his blog in a piquant post about the exposing of gays by the Rolling Stone newspaper, fellow blogger AfroGay pointed out that in Uganda exposing gay people in tabloid newspapers is not new. However, this has never succeeded in bringing about the desired mass uprising of the people against those identified. If anything, what has occurred is that the plight of the gay and lesbian people of Uganda and of much of sub-Saharan Africa continues to be highlighted in the consciousness of the world, adding momentum to the drive for change.

To my surprise Giles Muhame himself responded by leaving a comment on AfroGay's blog post. But from his comment it becomes apparent that despite the jeopardy that their contemptible publications bring upon innocent gay people, despite their high sounding moralistic claims, including this CNN interview in which Muhame insists that reports that gay people have been attacked after being exposed in his newspaper are "all lies", the likes of Muhame and his newspaper as well as others like it, are motivated solely by money.

Read more here and here.

Zimbabwe's blood diamonds

Zimbabwe is supposedly enjoying political stability under the coalition government formed in 2008. However, according to the UK's Channel 4's Unreported World programme, which Channel 4 describes as a "critically acclaimed foreign affairs series offering an insight into the lives of people in some of the most neglected parts of the planet", the reports from Zimbabwe are of a country still "gripped by terror and violence."

Reporter Ramita Navai and Alex Nott filmed undercover to investigate claims that gems from one of the world's biggest diamond fields are being used by Robert Mugabe's ZANU PF party to entrench their hold on power by buying the military's loyalty. (Navai is the same reporter whose story on the escalating violence in South Sudan I wrote about on this blog in November of last year). The current reports from Zimbabwe are against the backdrop of human rights abuses, which victims say are being perpetrated by the military and the police.

Filming covertly and secretly, (footage that was broadcast during the programme Friday evening), the team discovered a climate of fear reminiscent of the pre-coalition Mugabe years. Almost everyone Navai and Nott met was too terrified to talk about the diamond fields, including several members of the MDC party, which forms part of the coalition government. We see some people speak out, albeit at great personal risk. They detail stories of beatings, killings and rape connected to the diamond area. There were suggestions that powerful individuals within the government oversee and control these activities.

A military insider told the Unreported World team about how different Zimbabwean Army units are allowed to rotate through the fields to make profits from the diamonds in exchange for loyalty to president Mugabe. The serving officer claimed that syndicates of civilians are used by soldiers to mine illegally and they then sell the gems to middlemen. (In June last year, Human Rights Watch reporting on the same issue wrote about forced labour, torture and military massacres in the Marange district in Eastern Zimbabwe where the diamond fields are located. Click here for the HRW report).

The team followed the diamond trail, showing how smugglers move precious stones from the Marange fields across the border to the boom-town of Manica in neighbouring Mozambique. Filming secretly, they showed how the stones are purchased no questions asked, by Arabic speaking buyers who claim to be Lebanese. We are then informed that Manica, once a sleepy rural Mozambique village, is now buzzing with diamond buyers from around the world chasing after the flush of Marange diamonds from across the border. Its impossible to track the diamonds once they have been purchased from the smugglers, usually for meagre sums. From Manica the diamonds are absorbed into the international market and sold in upmarket and high street stores across the world.

The Kimberley Process Certification Scheme (KPCS) a UN-backed industry watchdog has been tasked with ending the sale of conflict diamonds. Its function is to ensure that diamonds are not used by rebel movements to finance wars against legitimate governments. It is thought however that this definition is narrow and doubts have been expressed as to the effectiveness of the KPCS, as in this BBC report of June this year. For sure, the KPCS has not prevented the reported widespread looting and human rights abuses connected to Marange and there is the suggestion that it has failed to deal with the unfolding crisis.

Next month in Tel Aviv, Israel, the members of the KPCS meet for their annual summit to decide what to do next. The State of Israel is the current Chair. The Unreported World reporters indicated that at the time of filming, there were fears that the situation in Zimbabwe could precipitate the end of the Kimberley Process itself, as internal politics and in-fighting about how the watchdog should proceed may tear it apart. (This caught my attention and is something I will be investigating further).

vast natural resources found in the Marange district of Zimbabwe could potentially change the fortunes of a country whose economy has hit hard times. These reports however, despite the coalition government, confirm that Zimbabwe is a country still plagued by corruption and violence, a serious warning of what is to come ahead of the 2011 elections.

For those in the UK, Unreported World series 10 episode 15 'Zimbabwe's Blood Diamonds' is available on the Channel 4 website for the next 29 days. Click here to watch.

Westerners no longer swallow my story, says Kagame

In this video posted on YouTube by Olivier Nyirubugara a Rwandan journalist and PhD student in The Netherlands, we hear Rwanda's President Paul Kagame commenting on the increasing divergence of views between his administration and its Western partners, formerly known to be "unconditional supporters".

On this and on that

Some weeks ago I walked away from my job. I had endured the job for long enough and the time came when I'd had enough, and I acted almost on impulse. Walking out felt good, as if it was the right thing to do. It was exhilarating knowing that I would no more have to put up with what had caused me to be unhappy with the job in the first place. And although I knew not what I would be doing thereafter, I left anyway, trusting my instinct.

Since then a lot has happened. I have now reverted to my former employment status, self-employed. My professional regulatory body will not allow me to practise on my own, since I'm facing some disciplinary action brought on by the actions of my erstwhile partner at my former firm, which is now defunct. However, I've been able to work out a fee-sharing arrangement with a different firm that allows me to do my own work, (through the firm of course). Giving up half of one's fee cannot be easy for anyone, as you probably can imagine. But it is necessary that one should pull one's own weight within a firm in order to have some clout. Also when one considers the firm's overheads, contributing my bit can only be a good thing.

While all this was happening, I came down with the worst flu I've ever had, with a chest infection and sinusitis to boot, causing the worst one-sided headaches I've ever suffered. In fact on one occasion, I was forced to pull up on the busy motorway for about half an hour, not trusting myself to be able to summon the concentration necessary to navigate safely home through the traffic. I had a fever, and the severe headache refused to go away despite having overdosed on Cocodamol. But since I desperately craved my bed, I eventually had to brave it and forge ahead until I clambered up the stairs of my building and staggered through my front door.

You're probably wondering what I was doing driving around when I was so sick. Well, I am no longer an employee, so it is impossible to call in sick to the office. Also, I still had to attend for all of my client appointments, attend court, attend meetings and so on, even while coughing, sneezing and wheezing..and of course spreading the germs around. The good news though is that at the time of this writing, I feel a lot better, even if I can't help thinking that the effects of the illness would have been considerably less had I the luxury of being able to afford to take a week off work.

Then the Commonwealth Games in Delhi came along and provided us with some comfort in the evenings. Thank goodness for the BBC Red Button. I was particularly interested in the athletics. Now, bad publicity is something that we Nigerians are perfectly familiar with, (not that being accustomed to it makes it any less unpleasant). So it didn't come as a surprise the hullabaloo over the winner of the 100m women, Nigeria's Oludamola Osayomi being disqualified and losing her gold medal, having tested positive for Methylhexanamine a nasal decongestant, which only made it into the list of banned substances for athletes in the summer of this year.

That Osayomi had been awarded the gold medal in somewhat controversial circumstances anyway, meant that its loss was not as painful as it might have been otherwise. My main concern was to see that Nigeria won more medals than Kenya at the Games. So I was terribly glad to see that despite the loss of Osayomi's gold, Nigeria was placed 6th versus Kenya's 7th place on the Medals Table, although I must admit that I always looked forward to seeing Kenya's Ezekiel Kemboi and Vincent Koskei on the track... PS. Well, the Commonwealth Games medals table has changed. Kenya is now placed 6th with 12 gold medals and Nigeria is at 9th place with 11.

And then there is the story of the Chilean miners, a story that has been making it onto the news for months now, usually as a side story about what for most of us, would have seemed like a mishap that befell some unfortunate people in a far off place. Last night I got out of bed in the middle of the night. Sleep failed to find me for some reason, although my guess is that the culprit was my persistent worrying about the financial side of things, (now that I do not receive a regular wage). Anyway, there I was at 2.35am perched on the sofa, turning on the TV, mug of lemon tea cupped in my hands. The pictures on the screen were of a paramedic (I later learned he's in fact a mine rescue expert) being strapped into the Fenix capsule before it began its first manned journey down into the bowels of the Earth at the San Jose copper and gold mine in the Chilean Atacama. I noted that all the major news channels were showing the same pictures, so I selected one, sat back and watched.

It would have been quite unnatural not to have become transfixed on the screen as I was for the next four hours watching miner after miner being pulled out. The Chileans, I think, have done a marvellous job in organising this feat, albeit with technical assistance from abroad. What strikes me most is how media-savvy the Chile government has demonstrated that it is, streaming live pictures from the cavern inside the Earth where these miners have been entombed for all of 69 days, the country's mining minister Laurence Golborne tweeting constantly about the rescue operation as it progressed (click here for his Twitter page). I think it is ingenious for the Chile authorities to have arranged for the orchestrated reunions of the rescued miners with their families to take place in the full glare of klieg lights and TV cameras.

As I type this, 15 miners have already been rescued, and with much of the rest of the world I am greatly impressed with the way this rescue operation has progressed. It was only a few days ago that in casual conversation with some friends, I was saying that if those miners had died when the mine collapsed in early August, none of us would be talking about them now. Instead, they are now expected to become celebrities, recipients of substantial pay-outs in compensation.

And then of course I've recently received an invitation from Rolex to participate in a two-day event to honour the first five winners of their Young Laureates Programme taking place at one of Europe's leading institutions Ecole Polytechnique de Lausanne (EPFL) in Switzerland on 9-11 November 2010, where I am informed some of the world's foremost scientists, explorers, environmentalists, doctors and educators will be gathered. Interestingly, two of the young laureates are Africans, one a Nigerian. And I am still scratching my head, wondering if I really should accept the invitation and go over to Lausanne, Switzerland, unsure if I am deserving of this honour.

Going walkabout

Settling into my new home has taken all week, but today Saturday, after taking care of all the necessary household chores the details of which I shall not bore you with, I set out on a walkabout of my immediate surroundings. I knew that my house is located in an area that is on the fringe of the city, but I was unprepared for an encounter with farm animals just five minutes walk from my front door, neither did I anticipate the sweet earthy smell of manure.

Suddenly, London doesn't seem any more like the concrete jungle that it used to feel like. I'm even considering procuring a pair of hiking boots to go a wandering in the countryside during the remaining few weekends of the summer; an activity that once during those giddy youthful days gone by of national youth service, was a favourite pastime of mine in the wild open spaces of the Jos Plateau in Nigeria.

Moving on

I like the word GENTRIFY. I was sorely tempted to use it in the title of this post, but I thought it might be giving too much away too soon. Let me start by offering my apologies to you guys for having been uncharacteristically silent on this blog for a while now. There is a good reason for this however, and it is this: I've been in the process of finding a new place to live. And finally this weekend, I am giving up my flat in London for a place in suburban Essex, a place that was once a little village, but which has now been swallowed up by the conurbation that is Greater London, but by gosh what a difference 20 miles makes. 

The new place is exactly that, new. Its a newly built development, very modern on the inside with an attempt on the outside to ape the traditional English look, mock Tudor and all. Those who know me will agree that I've often whined about the fact that for the last five years I've lived in a flat, without a garden, indeed one with no outdoor space at all. And guess what, I'm moving into a new place, which is not only a flat, it's a smaller flat than the one I'm leaving behind, also with no outdoor space and no garden! Worse still, the ground surrounding the building is completely concreted over. But it is located in a very lovely area indeed.

It has not been easy for me to justify the cost of living in the crowded, grotty, noisy, unfriendly part of inner-London that I have called home for many years now. I had a spell in leafy Surrey some years ago, but that was the accommodation provided for the staff of a hospital that was my then employer under which auspices I lived the life of suburbia without actually meriting it. It was at this hospital that I did my moonlighting while studying during the day. Now I am making the move to the suburbs under my own steam and it turns out it is not the financial nightmare that I assumed it might be (although I still have to factor-in travel costs, since henceforth commuting shall become a part of daily life), but I still do think I'm getting value for money.

Property in inner-London is outrageously expensive. The property market there is attractive to people from all over the world, hence ordinary men and women like us find that we are having to compete with Arab Sheikhs from the Gulf States for the same property. The nosedive in value of the UK's Pound Sterling brought on by the recession has not helped either, because suddenly London property is even more attractive to foreign property investors than before.

I know this seems a bit exaggerated, but when the Sheikhs and Russian oligarchs buy up all of the very expensive houses, the not so rich then compete for the not very expensive ones. Then those like us who are on the lower rungs must be content with what property remains, but there are millions of us. So we have overcrowding, astronomic property prices and exorbitant rents. But then there is always the option of moving further out of London and having carefully considered it, living in inner-London for me is really not worth all that cash I've been throwing at it.

So I've taken this option and I'll be moving over the next few days. It might be a while before I get the internet connected, so I'll likely be scarce around here. But don't worry about me because I'll be busy taking in the fresh air and enjoying my new surroundings, the plush carpets and the recessed lighting throughout the flat, which I admit was the clincher for me. I said it's a smaller flat than the one I currently live in, but small has its advantages too. Firstly, its easier to keep clean and there aren't too many nooks and crannies for things to get lost in.

My experience of moving house is that you never realise just how much stuff you own until you have to pack up all your stuff because you're moving house. The prospect of packing my stuff together has been so scary that I've avoided doing it until now that there's no more time left. Fortunately my nephew has offered to come and help me out, but its a bank holiday weekend and he has insisted that he must go out on Friday night, the and Saturday night as well. So he'll probably be so hungover on Sunday that he won't be of that much help to me in the end. I really should be getting on with it.

 

Rudisha smashes the world record

Today in Berlin.. Another clean sweep for Kenya..

More here..

After the race, David Lekuta Rudisha (a more up-to-date profile here) is quoted as saying:

"Last year I had a bad time in Berlin. The weather was not very good, and I did not make it into the final.

"So I did not want to talk too much about the world record before the race. But today I knew it is my day. I trained very hard, the weather was good. I told the pacemaker to run the first lap under 49 seconds. He did a great job.

"The last 200 metres I had to push very hard. But I saw the clock. 1:41,09 at the end, fantastic. I am very happy to be the fastest 800 metres runner in the world. The crowd was fantastic."

Out of Africa...The incredible fashion show inspired by Mother Nature

An amazing fashion show inspired by Mother Nature. I came across this 2008 posting on the Daily Mail online website. The models are said to be of the Surma and Mursi people of the Omo Valley in East Africa, (see here too). The story in the Mail reads:

"With colourful make-up of bright yellows, startling whites and rich earth-reds, flamboyant accessories and extraordinarily elaborate decorations, you'd be forgiven for thinking that these images originated in the fevered mind of some leading fashionista. Yet far from the catwalks of New York, London or Paris, these looks are the sole creation of the Surma and Mursi tribes of East Africa's Omo Valley.

Inspired by the wild trees, exotic flowers and lush vegetation of the area bordering Ethiopia, Kenya and Sudan, these tribal people have created looks that put the most outlandish creations of Western catwalk couturiers to shame."

Read more

"...a leaf or root is transformed into an accessory..

Instead of a scarf, a necklace of banana leaves is draped around a neck.

In place of a hat a tuft of grass is jauntily positioned.

A garland of flowers, a veil of seed-pods, buffalo horn, a crown of melons, feathers, stems and stalks-

Mother Nature has provided a fully stocked wardrobe.

Like a dressing-up chest brimming over with costumes and make-up (paint created with pigments from powdered stone), the natural environment is the source of this glorious jungle pantomime.."

"Although the origins of this astonishing tradition have been lost over the years - the Surma and Mursi spend much of their time engaged in tribal and guerilla warfare - their homeland is a hotbed of the arms and ivory trades. Fifteen tribes have lived in this region since time immemorial, and many use zebra skins for leggings, snail shells for necklaces and clay to stick their wonderful designs to their heads. As they paint each other's bodies and make bold decisions about their outfits (all without the aid of mirrors) it seems that the only thing that motivates them is the sheer fun of creating their looks and showing them off to other members of the tribe. As a celebration of themselves and of their stunning environment, this is truly an African fashion parade like no other." Marcus Dunk

Pictures by Hans Silvester (Rapho/Camera Press) from the book Natural Fashion: Tribal Decoration from Africa by Hans Silvester, published by Thames and Hudson, £19.95

Poetic and rather evocative, but I do not like the word "tribe" and never use it, since I think of it as a word devised by Europe to describe peoples they thought were less 'civilised' than they were. The word carries with is a connotation of primitiveness and applies only in relation to the 'native' peoples of Australia and the Polynesia islands, parts of south Asia, Africa, parts of South and Central America and the indigenous populations of North America.

It angers me to see that many of us in modern times have embraced the word and refer to our various ethnic groups, indigenous societies, indigenous nations, kingdoms and fiefdoms as tribes, without thinking about the implications of the use of the word. The word appears in the Mail's description of the fashion event and I needed to express my view. Please pardon me for digressing. See here too.

Life in the closet is the way of life

I first came across this piece on a blog I think is Russian or Ukrainian. I had not seen it on 234next.com when it was published on 10 July 2010, but the Russian blog referred me there:

LAGOS, Nigeria: Odunlami (not his real name) was engrossed in an activity on his mobile phone when this reporter walked into KFC, an eatery in the City Mall, Onikan. He had been waiting for 10 minutes, though he was an hour and a half late.

We were scheduled to meet at noon and, after waiting for one hour, I got tired of sitting down at the café and had to take a stroll. He had sent me his description in a text message and so when I walked in, I recognised him at first sight - neatly trimmed afro hair, well ironed shirt, light complexioned. Mr Odunlami, in his late 20s, is a graduate of Abia State University, hails from Delta State; and is a homosexual.

He is one of the numerous males and females who had scribbled their mobile phone numbers behind toilet doors at The Palms Shopping Mall at Lekki, Lagos, soliciting various kinds of services.

The wall post on the door

In the male toilets, graffiti-like scrawling advertising various businesses and services, ranging from sponsorship endorsements to the outright obscene, adorn all the four toilet doors; a sharp contrast with the spotless walls.

Some of the inscriptions read: "If you want to buy a gun, call John"; "Am a talented comedian"; "If you need gun, cocaine"; "Am a defensive driver, God's Power by name"; "I need a sponsor on music"; "Need a strong d**k to get your wife pregnant"; "You need a gay friend"; "If you need long time sex"; and "Need a laundry, computer engineer, private tutor," among others. Each inscription carries the writer's name and contact phone number for whosoever is interested.

"A friend of mine who was working with Shoprite told me that they (Shoprite) were planning to open a new outlet and were collecting applications. So when I went to submit my CV, I noticed people were writing their numbers on the door in the toilet," said Mr. Odunlami, a Biochemistry graduate.

He revealed he started exhibiting homosexual traits at 13, and that he had been receiving countless phone calls from gay partners in Lagos since his post on the door. "I got calls from Festac, Surulere, Ikeja, everywhere. My phone could not stop ringing. I met with one of the callers, a short young guy with pot belly. He was not my type so I cut him off," he said.

Another male who identified himself simply as Buddy said that the need to expand his network of gay friends made him advertise himself. "The response has been unbelievable. I went with a friend to watch a movie when I noticed that people write their numbers on the door. Ever since I wrote my mine, I'd been busy shuttling from Benin and Lagos to meet with new friends," said the 26-year-old University of Benin undergraduate.

The girls do have ‘em

The female toilets share a similar fate, but while the males say they advertise with the intention of elevating their financial status, the females use it as an avenue to give vent to frustrations in their relationships. Twenty-five-year-old Sandra Oduyemi said she decided to participate in the ‘toilet adverts' three months ago when a friend intimated her of the trend.

"I had a boyfriend before, but we broke up after he left me pregnant. After having my son, I lost interest in guys," she said. "I will never have anything to do with guys; they are not faithful and you cannot trust them. But women, you don't expect too much from them; they are not like all these men. The man abandoned me and my son."

For Tosin Raphael, it was curiosity that prompted her to put her contacts out, for the first time since she discovered her bisexuality in secondary school, in a public domain.

"The reason why I wrote my name was because I saw people writing their names. When I entered I was surprised but I wanted to give it a try so I wrote my number," said the 22-year-old Lagos State University undergraduate. "I was tired of my boyfriend, always flirting around with other women. But to me women are easier to be in a relationship with."

Well kept secrets

The society's perception of homosexuals and lesbians has caused most of the respondents to keep their activities in the closet. Mr. Odunlami said that as a spiritual leader he always ensures he does not run foul of expected standards.

"I was the vice president of the campus fellowship in school and so I had to be very careful. Even my twin brother does not know I'm gay. If he ever finds out, he will die," said Mr. Odunlami, stroking a copy of ‘Spiritual Leadership for the New Millennium' by David Yonggi Cho, a book he says he has been reading the past few weeks.

"There are a lot of us (homosexuals) in this Lagos. But I don't want to join any of the associations; I prefer to do my thing on my own. And again, if the government should legalise (homosexuality) in Nigeria, you would be surprised at the number of people around you that are doing it."

Sarah Johnson, another ‘advertiser', said that she had to take full advantage of the opportunity presented by the wall scribbles. "Well, it's free advert and a free world. It is public in other countries. I don't think it will ever get public because we have a strong culture," said Ms. Johnson.

Mr. Odunlami said he does not have any immediate plans for a girlfriend; he still prefers the men. Thirty minutes after he left the eatery, he sent a text message. "Thanks for the drinks. I do appreciate your kind of person.... Do you like what you saw? Cheers!"

(The real names of the respondents in this story have been changed for the purpose of confidentiality) By Ben Ezeamalu and Esther Alidu