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.