10 Scary Things About Getting Old

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Yesterday,5.20 am

‘Mirror, Mirror, on the wall. Who is the youngest-looking adult of them all?’

‘Your youthful looks were once rare. But  behold, something is sticking out…there’

I looked in the mirror again this morning and I saw it staring right back at me…mocking me.  It was none other than GH-12 (Grey Hair No. 12) rearing its unwanted being at the bottom of my goatee. Dare I say, I was already dreading the arrival of GH-13; unlucky for some, but the question I had to ask myself was, ‘Do I feel lucky? …’ 

As a teenager all I wanted to do was grow up…fast. I couldn’t wait to learn how to drive, get into full-time employment and live by myself. Growing up was fun but getting old wasn’t really what I was bargaining for at the time. Here are a number of reasons why:

  1. Limited choice of haircuts. You can kiss Afros and Corn-rows goodbye. Hair today, gone tomorrow…as they say. I wouldn’t mind much if my chin went bald or if my upper lip went bald, but Nature believes in taking hair follicles right off your scalp with each passing year (for some of us). Hair transplants are not an option for me though.
  2. Clint Eastwood wrinkles. When people ask you why you’re not smiling and you tell them, ‘I AM smiling’ then you know there’s something terribly wrong. The more lines you have on your face you can’t help but feel that people are staring at a road map. Once you start squinting you know things could soon go from Good to Bad…to Ugly.
  3. Saggy bits. Nothing stays where you put it after a while. You’re arms start to look like oversized sausages that have spent more than enough time in the frying pan. Buttocks shrink and serve as less of a cushion but more of an eye sore since your favourite jeans have all that extra space in the back.
  4. Goldfish Syndrome. I don’t want to forget anything and I don’t plant to. As a matter of fact, this blog will stay on the internet (for free, I might add) long after I’m gone so I’ll hopefully get a chance to use this medium as a reference point from time to time. I also plan to play a lot of Sudoku to keep my brain in tip-top shape.
  5. Sleeping…anytime….anywhere. Just imagine if you were to fall asleep whilst driving (even if it’s only 30km per hour). Or nodding off in the middle of your own thank you speech at your 75th surprise birthday party. I better not be living alone when I’m old. I’d probably doze off whilst making a pack of 5-minute Indomie noodles and set my apartment on fire. Sleeping whilst doing a number 2 is safe though. 
  6. Who makes fun for old people? Somehow it seems that everything around you (especially in Nigeria) is designed for people aged 0 to 65 years old. After that everyone else is irrelevant. I’ve not come across a dozen old people’s homes or a nightclub for pensioners. When you’re really frail people want to treat you like a delicate piece of glassware…hopefully not the kind that gets abandoned in the cupboard and is only brought out once a year during Christmas.
  7. When I grow up I wanna be a burden! I don’t want to be a burden to anyone, not even now. I’ve always wanted to be independent. I dread having someone other than my wife bathing me or cleaning up after me in toilet. With any luck one can hope for good health so you don’t pass on any horrendous medical bills as an early parting gift.
  8. Trying to look cool. I would still like to wear my Ralph Laurens, Von Dutch cap and Nike pumps in my 80s without anyone on the street looking at me funny. I don’t see why someone can’t be cool in his 20s and not retain that style six decades later. When all else fails, wield a Blackberry – you can’t go wrong with that (Instant Cool Tool). 
  9. ‘Ignore him’. What possible wise words of wisdom could I have when my grandkids can Google it in under 2 minutes on their smart phone in one hand whilst feeding me my lentil soup and croutons with the other. I probably shouldn’t talk much in order not to risk boring anyone to death.  
  10. Good Will Hunting…still hunting. Having to write one puts things into perspective. I wonder if Wills always unite a family left behind or if it breaks up a family. Depends on its content, right? Wills are a scary reminder that death is a one-way ticket with zero luggage allowance and all to lose. I don’t plan on writing a will except of course there’s a juicy revelation that would leave everyone with their jaws hitting the floor. “You mean all this while the Crazy Nigerian was actually …. :D

Bankers in love

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“Babe, I know I’ve been working late a lot lately but you know how demanding my job can be. All I hear at the office day and night is how I’m supposed to meet my target but I think I’ve already met my target…my target is You. If only I could fix my working hours like a term deposit so I can spend more time with you. I want to chase you round the garden like a big-ticket Import Finance transaction that manages to get away just when it’s within my reach. I want to have beautiful flowers sent to you everyday like SMS credit alerts. I want to take you around the world like my VISA credit card and maybe let you exchange handshakes with my close pals; Benjamin Franklin and the Queen of England. You deserve all my interest, minus the tax deductions of course. If I could turn back the hands of time I would give you more attention like my top ten customers. I wouldn’t toss your emotions from one end to the other like an electronic fund transfer. I promise to keep my appointments with you like my monthly loan repayments. When it comes to taking care of you I won’t default. My affections for you have been long overdrawn like a bad debt. This valentine I want just say that like a cheque book reorder slip I’ll be there when you need me the most. Thank you for banking on me. Yours truly…”

~ taken from the unpublished book, Romance for Dummies

Nigerian Police and the Art of Harrassment

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Two days ago I was randomly pulled over by the cops for possibly breaking the law (believe me, it wasn’t half as dramatic as what you enjoy on American crime shows). Anyway, I was totally caught off-guard. I mean, these particular policemen weren’t at this invisible checkpoint yesterday…and the day before…and the day before that…and oh yeah I remember…THE WHOLE OF LAST MONTH! SO WHERE THE HELL DID THEY SPRING OUT FROM ALL OF A SUDDEN? ’Ah, no big deal! Jollof must be a law-abiding citizen’ I hear you say? Well, I sorta broke the law but I can explain…

As one of the policemen beckoned me to the side, I did a quick mental scan of everything that I should have in my car: Driver’s licence – check!; Vehicle Licence – check! Motor Insurance – check!; Driver with a confident smile on his face – check! Like clockwork, the policeman asked for the first three items in the same order. However my jaw dropped when he asked for a fourth document – a Motor Road Worthiness Certificate…WTF???!!! How come all the other police checkpoints I experienced in the past did not ask for this alien document? Wasn’t my car in good driving condition all these years?

To my annoyance the policeman proceeded to open my passenger door (but to HIS annoyance the door was locked). I asked him why he wanted to get into my car and he claimed he had to take me to the police station to register for the certificate – yeah right. I knew the routine. Once you get there your car is impounded and then they force you to pay some outrageous bill or else you forfeit your car. That was option 1 and I wasn’t falling for it. I told him (with as little sarcasm as possible) that I was old enough to go register for the document myself and didn’t need a chaperone. I would’ve just driven off but he still had my Driver’s licence in his pocket. It was now time to play the Waiting game.

I turned off my engine and waited 15 minutes as the policeman resumed his harassment duties with unsuspecting motorists. One of his allies, a policewoman, walked up to me and asked what the problem was (as if she didn’t know). I told her my story and she just told me to talk to the policeman again. I didn’t have much choice if I planned on getting my Driver’s licence back. I called him to my window to reason with him, to which he unleashed an unsettling grin and gave me option 2 – a little something for his pocket, if you know what I mean. ‘Well, there goes my puppy-dog-eyes plan’, I thought. I was about to be hustled for my own Driver’s licence by a law enforcer. I wasn’t going to comply. Instead of giving him diddly-squat I gave him the cold shoulder – must have worked because a minute later HE complied.

As I drove off into the sunset I concluded that Nigerian policemen were mostly beggars in uniforms, using their status to intimidate rather than protect. I do hope that I’ll have never need to call for their help in future…because they’ll probably ask for ‘a little something for their pocket’ before they do! Shame.

Love can make you stupid

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Why is it that in every relationship one person is liked or loved more than the other? Even worse, why is it that you can be loved by someone whom you don’t love much, whilst you love someone who ALSO doesn’t love you much? (Stay with me now). In fact, the only reason why you’re in this unbalanced relationship is because the one you really love (or think you love) isn’t ready, isn’t interested or isn’t in your life yet.

Looking at things from a guy’s perspective, first comes the denial; that the person you love will eventually come around and love you in return but that almost never happens (that’s just as dumb as marrying someone who has a recurring bad habit and thinking you can change that in a couple of years before death do you part). Meanwhile, the one who truly loves you is losing a bit of her heart each aching day as you drift further and further towards the Bermuda Triangle of unrequited love. And when the one you were infatuated with tells you…wait for it…she’s in love with someone else, you know you shouldn’t be too surprised but you’re only human, right? Your heart is obliterated into a million pieces. Only two outcomes can prevail: Either you pull out of the other insatiable relationship or you carry on and let a poor girl suffer the rebound effect. You get a taste of your own medicine – trying to grow to love someone who loves you. In the end, nobody wants to be alone.

Nobody dreams to marry someone who sees them as their next best choice. Nobody wants to live a loveless life. There’s a type of love that everyone would want to have: that fairytale love, that romantic love, that spontaneous love, that kiss-me-in-the-morning love, that feed-me-when-I’m-ill love, that cuddle-up love, that go-to-church-in-the-same-Ankara love, that no-secrets love, that grow-old-and-wrinkly-together love (By now I’m sure you get the picture). It’s like a diamond in the rough; it’s hard to find but rest assured…it’s there somewhere waiting to be discovered by you :)

~ Inspired by Two Lovers (2008) Directed by James Gray

How do you answer the question: “What’s new?”

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Reblogged from The Pinstriped Suit:

How many times do we get asked this question on a daily or weekly basis? And how many times do we simply give the answer “Not much, same old stuff”. I think the question “What’s new?” is a really good indicator of how engaged you are in the projects and activities in your life. If you are consistently giving a ho hum answer, then perhaps you need to evaluate the meaning and purpose behind your work. Think about how boring you sound when your basically telling the world that you have absolutely nothing …

Click on the link ‘The Pinstriped Suit’ for the rest of this short article. Enjoy!

‘A’ is for Awkward

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Awkward /ök’ w∂rd/ adj. clumsy: inconvenient: embarrassing

That’s the Oxford Reference Dictionary definition.

However the term ‘awkward’, according to the Crazy Nigerian, can be defined as that feeling when you are:

Walking through a crowd of school kids jeering and pointing at your half-naked body after sneaking out of the boy’s toilet where you just discovered that your shirt was stolen moments after you changed into the school choir gown to perform in front your parents who were so proud of you approximately 15 minutes  ago but were now shouting down your eardrums as you continued your walk of shame.

Standing up to take off the cap on your head in your primary school class with the full knowledge that the previous night your mum’s hairdressers accidentally shaved off every hair on your large head, which leaves you no choice but to heed the direct command given by your class teacher in the midst of all your classmates.

Trying to avoid close proximity and also trying to avoid using words in your conversation that start with ‘h’ or ‘wh’ after you’ve stuffed yourself silly with mouth-watering barbecue beef aka ‘Suya’ laced with raw onions and arriving at your prospective girlfriend’s place only to realize that you can’t find that last piece of Wrigley’s Extra chewing gum that was resting nicely in the ‘other’ pair of jeans you should have been wearing that evening.

Looking in the eyes of your housemate’s girlfriend whom you told the night before that you ‘really liked her moustache which looked like whiskers’ (and even attempted to stroke the little hairs) after having one-too-many vodka shots during your pre-boozing session before heading out to the techno nightclub.

Having to do a U-turn and put your head down in humiliation after snubbing some surprised onlookers but not realizing that you had stupidly driven out of your compound at 9.30am on Sanitation Day where vehicle movement was prohibited before 10am.

Trying to regain composure and avoid eye contact with an unknown pretty admirer across the street after staring at each other seconds earlier and unexpectedly walking right into a street lamp, and ultimately into a world of embarrassment.

Waiting nervously at the till of a supermarket with a week’s worth of grocery shopping as the sales attendant is on her third attempt of processing your ATM card payment while you know that you haven’t got any cash in your wallet and all you’re beginning to hear in the queue building behind you is their heavy sighing, particular one guy breathing down your scrawny neck.

I guess what is also awkward is the fact that I may see one or two of my blog subscribers face-to-face after this post is published. Maybe I shouldn’t even bother posting this article (mouse cursor hovers over the ‘Publish’ button…phone rings unexpectedly…oh darn! I’ve published it!). 

5 Days of Freedom and Boredom

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It’s been a full 5 days of strike action nationwide in Nigeria since it kicked off on Monday, 9th January. Let’s just let that fact sink in for a minute. 5 days??? Could you imagine being under involuntary house arrest for 5 days? I have. I slept till Sleep demanded a definite curfew. I ate till my swelling gut begged me to do sit-ups. I cleaned my apartment till the remaining dust particles put up a white flag to save its unborn generation. I watched so much TV that I got spasms whenever I suddenly tried to turn my neck left or right. Boredom kept knocking on my door but I stupidly shouted, ‘No one is home’. 5 days…and it seems this weekend is merely a recess.

Saturday was a breath of fresh air as the roads were  busied with vehicles once destined for a life of dust accumulation and stalled engines. I joined the hustle and bustle without delay as this was my chance to replenish my stock of food items, refuel my car and re-assess my alien surroundings. I noticed a lot of the police/traffic warden stands which had been toppled probably by protesters last week. Most filling stations remained closed while the few that were open sold fuel at whatever price we desperate motorists and generator owners were willing to pay. I recall some weeks ago when I poked fun at a friend who was in a queue for the critically acclaimed Shoprite bread. That recollection occurred yesterday while I was in a never-before-seen queue at my local bakery – I was number 11. Even when I went to my Cable TV provider, DSTV, to pay my outstanding bill the queue there was reminiscent of the maze you see at Alton Towers. It was cash or nothing – some ‘cashless’ society we’re turning out to be (insert sarcastic emoticon here).  

I wonder what other people got up to during this unwarranted holiday (NB – Nigerian bankers are not complaining). Apart from those who got so bored of staying indoors and later opted to join the rallies at designated points nationwide, there must have been those who went to a nearby church to meditate and pray for Nigeria (only a small fraction); those who over-stayed their welcome at their neighbour’s place after emptying their own fridges (a mega chunk); and those who took full advantage of the steady electricity in some areas and used all their LG products to maximum capacity (I’m one of the lucky few!). With the evident harmattan weather gaining momentum over the last few days, I don’t even want to know what couples have been up to.  

To my surprise I learnt this morning that the Nigerian Labour Congress (NLC) and the Federal Government (FG) are still nowhere closer to reaching an agreement on reinstating the fuel subsidy which would bring the fuel pump price back to N65/litre. I’m not sure that the president quite understands the gravity of this economic shutdown. Lives have been lost, businesses have been crippled, and anarchy is looming. On a gloomier note, the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) governor, Sanusi Lamido Sanusi, estimated that the country had lost about N500bn (over $3bn) last week due to the strike.  The Save Nigeria Group and Occupy Nigeria group have made their stance clear – No to Corruption and Yes to Good Governance. That’s my stance too – I care less about the removal of the fuel subsidy.

We can expect that if the deadlock between NLC and the FG remains then Day 6 of the mother of all strikes will resume tomorrow. We can also expect more protests, more political aspirants hoping to capitalize on this mass movement, more boredom (or freedom), more neighbour-to-neighbour visits, more battery-sapping blackberry broadcasts, more Insomnia, more new cases of obesity, and last but certainly not least, we can expect an overwhelming baby boom in September :D