The Prayer II – Finding Jesus

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So it’s Christmas day and I see a missed call from my aunt. (The same one who prayed for a wife for me in the Prayer click here). I had sent her some cash for Christmas, earlier in the month and half expected her to call me to acknowledge receipt.

In fairness I did try to answer the phone, but it only rang twice and stopped before I could pick up. This is not unusual among my people and is called flashing. This is a  type of call collect where the calling party  (e.g someone from my village without enough phone credit as is always the case) makes a call at the called party’s (someone living abroad or deemed to always have enough phone credit) expense.

And woe betide you if you don’t return the call within five minutes, especially if the call is from an elderly relative. You and anyone else who has ears to hear will Read More »

Gym Vibing

Starbucks baristas are notorious for misspelling my name when taking my order and writing it on the paper cup. It comes out meaning nothing to me, but clearly meaning something to the barista taking the order in whatever language they speak. How many ways can you spell “Keredim”? Ask a Starbucks Barista.

I have a friend who has the same name as I do and we got into a competition to see whose local Starbucks will come up with the weirdest spelling of our name.

I lost the contest. However in my competitiveness, I had more than a few sugary Starbucks drinks and pastries; add to that a recent 10 day trip to Nigeria where all I did was eat freshly cooked meals, I gained more than a few pounds and my hips stopped lying in my trousers.

Big butt

So I have adopted a new workout regime and eating plan. One of those 12 week body transformation programs which I have modified to suit my lifestyle. The modification means it will take anything from between 12 months and 12 years to look anything like the “after” photo shopped models used to advertise the programs on Instagram.

As prescribed by the program I rest between sets during an exercise. During this time, I keep myself amused by looking around the gym and making up stories about other gym members.Read More »

Brexit: The result

Brexit

Woke up this morning.

Saw the news on TV

I am speechless.

What the Fuck just happened!?!

Britain Voted to leave the EU??!!

Cameron resigns?!?!

I am in shock. Feels like I have been hit by a truck.

I am incontinent incandescent with rage.

”Why Lord, Why hast thou forsaken me? Why have You reduced the chances of finding a white round bubble butt in Britain?” (Click here)

 Shit.  I really don’t need this right now!!!

Oh well…. Time to brush up on my Spanish…..

How do say “Have you got a bubble butt?” in Spanish….

 

Brexit – A Case For Bubble Butts

Incase you haven’t heard, the United Kingdom will be voting in a referendum on June 23rd to decide whether to leave the European Union (EU) or to stay. This has been aptly termed “Brexit” to leave or “Bremain” to stay.

What brought this on? Since Britain joined the EU back in 1973, dissenting voices have always complained that they wanted to leave the community. They were (and are still) not happy with the EU laws and standards they had to subscribe to as a member country.  The idea of being ruled by anyone else other than themselves is abhorrent to them. Rule Britannia and all that.Read More »

Crap I Get On Grindr V

 

Not sure what’s going on, but I have noticed that an increasing number of men on Grindr are featuring women in their profiles and in pictures they send during conversations. The pictures are usually selfies poses of the guy and a female friend, both young (probably University students) taken at various locations.

Increasingly, I get these profiles hitting me up and this annoys me no end, especially when as in most cases, the male in the picture is not my type.

I think I am a reasonably tolerant person when it comes to sexuality. I get that there are “sexually fluid” people in the world that swing both ways, but for now I like my “sexual rigidity” and wish to be left alone in my box, especially on Grindr.Read More »

Mum’s Soup

Thought I’d share this e-mail from my cousin Nduka, a few days ago……

Cousin Kere, how are you? I see you are in Lagos and it is turning into quite the event. I can’t wait for you to supply details when you get back to London. Meanwhile, while you were away I think I have finally come out to my Mum, or at least she is now officially aware.

Kere, you know my Mum (your older cousin twice removed on your father’s mother’s side – We Nigerians, We like kinship) – is an indomitable, forthright, God-fearing Christian woman and doesn’t suffer fools gladly. As a typical Nigerian mother, she instilled a lot of discipline in her kids. Anyone one of us that misbehaved got our well-deserved punishment, especially if we disgraced her outside, as all our behaviour reflected on her. So things like sex outside marriage was not tolerated and homosexuality was something we talked about. But she is quick to fight our corner if we are right. God help the person who falsely accused us of any wrong doing.

Along with her reputation of being a strict mother, she is also renowned for her traditional culinary skills. In the 1980s, whenever it was our family’s turn to host the village meeting, attendance was always higher than for the other meetings hosted by other families. People looked forward to her cooking and attended en mass.

Need I remind you of her soups? Ofe Egusi (Melon Seed Soup), Ofe Ugba (Oil bean seed soup), Ofe Onugbu (Bitter leaf soup), Ofe Okro (Okra Soup) all eaten with Eba or pounded yam (collectively known as “Swallow”). Not to mention her Jollof rice, Yam & Plantain pottage and Beans & Plantain pottage. All dishes made with fresh ingredients, assorted spices,  beef, goat meat and fish.

Egusi

She knows my favourite breakfast is sweet ripe fried plantain and egg sauce, served with Akamu (Fermented maize) doused in sweet condensed milk. Oh the sweetness could send one into a diabetic coma. Those were the days when I didn’t bother about my then 28 inch waist-line. Now that my waist line is size…..I digest digress.

                                    Fried Plantain

In the early 1990s Gen Sani Abacha assumed power and Dad who was a permanent secretary in one of the Federal ministries had to leave the country, because he was being investigated and he was tipped off that incarceration was imminent. I don’t know why people don’t believe that a senior  civil servant on an average salary cannot afford to have property abroad and a few hard earned US dollars in foreign bank accounts….. Anyway, we had to move to the UK from Nigeria.

Well the voluntary exile to the UK did not impede Mum’s expertise in the kitchen. She sources the ingredients required for the Nigerian dishes from Dalston and Peckham markets. She continues to slay in the kitchen.

Jollof Rice

Though we have all left home, we still visit Mum regularly to get fed Nigerian food and take some home. The thing is Mum’s food is moreish and one serving is never enough. And that was the crux of my dilemma.

Mum knows I live with a “flat mate” Jeff and that we cook separately. But the truth as you know, is that Jeff and I have been a couple for over seven years. Jeff though English from East Anglia, an Old Etonian and a Cambridge graduate, whose grandmother’s mannerisms reminds me of the Dowager Countess Grantham in Downton Abbey, has taken a shine to Mum’s cooking.

He looks forward to when I go and visit Mum because of the variety of Nigerian dishes I bring back. And when I don’t go, he cajoles me into visiting her. Jeff can roll the swallow in between both hands, before expertly transferring it between his fingers, dipping it in soup and then passing it into his mouth. Villager. A technique, I swear I did not teach him, as I eat swallow with cutlery. I think he got this eating technique from watching Nollywood films supplied by my sister,  which to my chagrin he has also taken a liking to.

The thing is Mum gives me enough food for 2 servings. As she thinks I eat it by myself, she only gives enough for me to eat twice. But with Jeff I can only have it once and like I said, one helping of Mum’s food is never enough.

I have been enduring this food deprivation since Jeff and I started dating. I know I should see it as a means of portion control, but it is a concept not compatible with Mum’s food; and I don’t mind doing the extra cardio session in the gym to burn off the calories.

So on this particular day – at Jeff’s urging – I went to see Mum. She packaged the food in Tupperware containers and labelled each one with its contents. And as usual it was enough for one person to eat twice.

I hugged her, said goodbye, headed for the door, got into my car and drove off. I think I was so overwhelmed by the thought of watching Jeff (expertly) devour the other half of the food  which was, for lack of full disclosure to Mum, rightfully mine – that after driving a few meters, I stopped the car and reversed back into the parking space I just vacated.

I went back into the house and walked into the kitchen. Mum was cutting vegetables with a knife. She looked up still cutting the vegetables and said in Igbo, “Ah, Nduka what did you forget?”

I took a deep breath and said, “Mum, you know Jeff right?”

“Oh yes” she answered. “That your flat mate. How is he? You guys have been sharing a flat for over 5 years now. These days that is longer than most marriages. How is that his girlfriend I saw at your place last year? (She was referring to Jeff’s University female friend who was visiting from Canada last year and stayed with us. Totally platonic)

“He is fine. It is just that, we share everything – bills, the cleaning, cooking, clothes, washing and we sleep in the same bed, like married couples do.

He likes your food and when I bring it home we share it. But it is never enough for both of us and we always crave more. Please next time can I get an extra serving of food to take home?”

She stopped cutting the vegetables. Knife still in her hand, she looked up and gave me a look that I see as a precursor to me getting an ass whopping from her when I was a kid, or a stern rebuke now that I am an adult.

With the knife still in her hand, I wondered maybe asking for extra food portions wasn’t a good idea after all. A bit like Oliver Twist asking for more.

Then she smiled and went back to cutting the vegetables and said,

Which soup does he like?”

I am glad to say, I now get more than enough food for me and Jeff.

Now, I just need to teach that villager how to use cutlery to eat swallow!!