Important Life Lessons From the Movie “The Irishman.”

“I heard you paint houses.” It would have been very difficult to understand Hoffa’s metaphor while he was speaking with Frank if one had not seen the latter shoot a man dead in such a calculated manner, a couple of scenes before.
“Yeah, I kill people.” I wish Frank had replied like this at that point. Maybe it would have been easier for him to find the remorse he sought while praying with the priest for repentance at the twilight of his life – we’ll talk about this later.

Robert De Niro, Al Pacino and Ray Romano

Martin Scorsese’s directional brilliance, just as he’s always done with his productions on crime violence was further emphasised by Al-Pacino’s huffing and puffing, Pesci’s gentle-manliness, and the old fashioned cars, the guy who got to that meeting late with a short and a vintage shirt…what’s his name again? And of course! Three and half hours of scheming, coercion, killings and machinations, and the comedic depiction of those underwater guns that could arm a battalion of armies, kept me glued to the screen till the end credits started to roll out. Great stuff!

Aside the persuasive strong language, blood and violence, the crime-political theme of the Irishman is also loaded with many real life lessons. If you haven’t seen the movie or you got carried away with the scintillating drama on screen to notice there are life hacks in there, stay right here. You are in luck. Add my perspective to the thoughts you already have and you’ll be wiser than I am – for now.

1. Everyone Needs a Mentor

Mentor and Mentee

What better mentor is there than a criminal lord who helps to repair your damaged car on your first meeting? Jokes apart. A mechanic mentor: he fixes things, repairs things; he can get stained, dirty and greasy for you, allow you to express yourself, but can also slap you like some roadside mechanic bosses do their apprentices in Lagos if you get wayward. If he teaches you how to kill, make you kill and maybe kill for you, he is an excellent mentor – that is if you can only see this the way I see it.
Sadly, I hardly know any mentee who has a mechanic mentor, and in concrete terms it will suffice to say that Frank became more focused, got better and attained greater heights because of his mentor, who fixed, protected, guided and also taught him to a large extent, the ways of the underworld.
Those in the “upper-world” without mentors could be living in a kind of underworld with less violence, but may be limiting themselves to ideas, be limited in the opportunity to grow, add value and make meaningful impacts with their dreams or goals or in the fields they are already in. Mentors can point one in the right direction and thus reduce or make one completely avoid months or years of frustration and wastefulness.
Whether you are the Pope, the president or a village messenger, you need a mentor. We all need someone to whom we can answer or otherwise look up to.

2. Respect your elders

Joe Crazy, humbled

Elders are not necessarily those who are older than you are. This is where most individuals get it mixed up. People who have been in the system longer than you, those who know the ins and outs of the institution, no matter their size, gender or how amateurish they may seem to you; all these ones constitute your elders and you must gladly submit to their experience and authority until you have been placed in a position to lead the line.
What an old man sees while sitting down cannot be seen by a boy who is on a tree. It’s an adage to mull on. You don’t just waltz into the game and demand to hug all the glory even if you have more skills than your predecessors. No. Don’t do that. While some may back down and let you have your time to shine, a few others might shut you up or completely knock you out like Joe Crazy was in the movie.
A society without respect for its leaders is ready to disintegrate. How about a criminal organisation without a lord? Mayhem! Apocalypse!

3. The Italian Business Model Works
From what I have observed in the lives of Italian bosses through the movies I have seen, most of them seem to know how to work with people, and the kind of responsibility they show while handling power is impeccable.

The Italian Boss

They are tough, but some are quite generous and have kinder sides which can melt a rock. They reward diligently when results are achieved and can also be very brutal whenever it comes to punishing failure. They keep their circle very small, involving lots of trusted families and friends so they can have more control over their businesses. Also, tiny little details we seem to overlook in the field of business are highly esteemed by these Italian bosses.
Russel Bufalino, Castro, Pablo Escoba…all these bad guys, during their time, knew how to relate with their people and get results.

4. Middlemen will always be the men in the middle
Personally, I do not like individuals who trade information back and forth. They have the tendency to flip things in the favour of the individual or group of persons that most suit their personality/sense of being/purpose and agenda. Even peace brokers can hurt one of the aggrieved parties they intend to unite.
Beware of that friend who gives his two cents for free.

Fear the middleman

Are we mostly not loyal to ourselves as humans?
In business, you find middlemen chiseling out a large portion of the profit.
In love, they come in the form of friends, advisers and counselors. They create or better yet, find a loophole in a blissful and bolstering romance and act all concerned. They counsel and tutor, stay and ‘eat’ on the side, patiently watch and wait for their time bomb to explode and then snatch or grab like a hawk does a chick once the mother hen blinks.
In the church you’ll find some there, the fake ones people worship instead of The One above. If they only know how well that guy reduces the efficacy of their prayers with his selfish desires, outwardly apologetic to their suffering and misery, but smiling inwardly at their state of ignorance and delusion, steadily sucking them to penury.
God of man.
Middle (belly) man.
Hoffa should have seen it coming. Punctuality was one of Frank’s watchword, but this time he was late. Yeah…he was respectful, but he was also cunning and brutal. He was a snake – a beautiful one at that. His friend never saw his own end. It was a terrible mistake to make on Hoffa’s part.
Love isn’t the only thing that makes one act silly sometimes…really.

Smell a fish in someone’s car when you are about to get in or smell it when he opens his mouth to speak to you. Your choice.

5. Familiarize with Family
Whatever you do, never be far away from family. In body mind and spirit, let family be involved in your life on a day to day basis and mind how you conduct your business in the presence of your kids. I could almost weep for the aged Frank when he was trying to speak with his daughter at the bank, only to be met with a closed sign post intentionally placed by her in front of her cubicle. He was in crutches too. Pathetic!

Family first

When you fail to put into consideration, the lives and affairs of your immediate family into your life’s schedule, just prepare to die unloved, sick and lonely. Nobody’s going to ride with you like family does. Nobody.

6. Everybody Wants a Form of Insurance for the Afterlife – atheists too.
When saddled with the grief of numerous misdeeds or faced with the lonely foreboding that comes with old age, men are apt to find some form of leverage with what comes next after the grave.

What comes next?

Many atheists are guilty in this respect as they call the name of Jesus or that of other deities they had initially claimed not to believe in, when they become ill or dying or when faced with circumstances beyond their control.
One of the uniqueness of the Irishman in portraying the human psychology as regards the afterlife, comes to the fore towards the end when Russ, a murderer, gets wheeled into the church at his own request, and Frank, who isn’t a real practicing Christian bar the baptism of his children, also prays with a Priest who later asks him if he feels some sort of remorse for what he has done. Frank answers in a shaky voice, “I don’t know…maybe because I’m here now talking to you. That in itself is an attempt to…”
He doesn’t even finish this statement because it kind of sounded strange to him.

And how can we be sorry even when we don’t feel sorry? What line of thinking is that? From a priest? Unbelievable!

The question here is this: can you ride on with what you believe concerning your fate in the afterlife, even in the face of death? It shouldn’t be that hard to find an answer to if you are connected with the right supernatural source.
And stop yapping about the big bang theory and evolution bullshit. They all need a supernatural force to exist.
Darn it! Did I just show the apologetic in me?

In Sir Isaac Newton’s words, “This most beautiful system of the sun, planets and comets, could only proceed from the counsel and dominion of an intelligent and powerful Being…This Being governs all things, not as the soul of the world, but as Lord over all; and on account of His dominion he is wont to be called Lord God “pantokrator” or Universal Ruler.”

He also said that Gravity explains the motions of the planets but CANNOT explain who set the planets in motion. Take a minute to think about that. Remember that he was a great scientist too.

The Irishman also drives a very important point home, something I will love to say this way: while power lies where it lies, in the hands of both the foolish and the wise, age and death will catch up on us all, the powerful and the powerless.
Whether one lies or sits in power, one will be forced to stand and answer for one’s deeds, in this universe or another one, someday.

The Irishman. The rich man with the visionary eye. The mentor. The Italian businessman.
Martin Scorsese, Al Pacino, Robert De Niro, Pesci, Ray Romano…
Great great work of art.

Seun Afolabi.

8 Happenings and Musings During the Lockdown in Nigeria.

For many Nigerians and other people in several countries around the world, year 2020 will forever be in our memories due to the Corona Virus pandemic.
Because of the nature of the spread of the disease, social distancing, self isolation and quarantine are being practiced on a daily basis, and to further reduce the transfer of the disease from person to person, most affected states or communities and in certain cases, the whole of the country, are at the moment, observing a stay-at-home rule or a lock-down.
While the lock-down has helped to curb the spread of this plague to an extent, it has also brought to light, certain happenings that are worth musing on, especially here in Lagos, Nigeria.
Below are 8 observations and musings of mine. Feel free to add yours in the comment section at the end of this read.

1. Majority Still Can’t Comprehend it.
Corona virus is a scam by the government so they can embezzle more money. The one world order government is paying presidents in most countries to install 5G. It is the age of the Antichrist. The white man has done enough atrocities and is seeing God’s anger.
Really?
It is a shame that even the thought wave of some of the elites in the country flows in this direction. While most ordinary citizens have turned philosophers in the theories they remodel from other modified theories and propaganda from other shallow thinkers. A few have however followed what is happening in the rest of the world and extensively sourced for materials that will make them understand better, what COVID-19 is about, its present impact and how to prepare for the unforeseen, should the lock-down extend beyond the present 2-week period.
Lots of people in this part of the world will rather gobble up hearsay than go through the stress of doing one or two findings for themselves.
I had to raise my hands and hold my head in sheer perplexity when a friend connected COVID-19 to the Illuminati.
I think I will ‘unfriend’ you soon.

2. Hunger, Anger and Unrest.
When Lai Mohammed said palliatives in the tune of 100 billion naira has been made available by the Federal Government to assist the poor, he forgot to add that it was more for our northern brothers than those in the locked down states. I wonder why functioning financial Federal government offices are getting burnt lately…what do I know anyway.
I remember watching a video where relief materials were being distributed to hundreds, maybe thousands of individuals who kept stretching their arms upwards and pushing and shoving one another to catch what was being thrown at them from the top of a large truck. It brought to mind, a refugee food scampering scene in the movie ‘Black Hawk Down.’ A sore to the eyes…humans made to act like a reared school of hungry cat fish in a pond when being fed their pellets.
Now we have lots of hungry and angry thugs causing mayhem in Lagos and Ogun States. Bank managers, doctors, traders and cobblers are now on the same vigilante duty roster. No levels. No class here. Heaven helps those who help themselves.
The security forces are busy keeping people locked inside their houses. They cannot keep the thieves away. It is the way I see it…I mean these bad guys were even confident enough to inform a community about their intended arrival.
They even rob at noon. Jesus Christ! A ti wo.

Masquerades who can give a bit of entertainment during this hard time have also lost the backing of their deities. A colleague of theirs was thoroughly beaten. You need to see the way he was begging. This Egungun was not careful. Motto no jam am, na Soldier jam am correct.
The gods may now be afraid of Nigerian soldiers, “Stay indoors,” they say. “These guys are mean.”

3. Husbands now House cats.
Don’t you love cats when they play around at home? When they come close and try to nudge and share part of your body heat, and how they subtly open and close their eyes when you smoothen and ruffle their furs, don’t you just adore these feline cuties?
Yeah. The jungle tigers (husbands) have turned into domestic cats. They are now at home 24/7. There are no late night entrances or several-hour-long business meetings and impromptu travels keeping them away, at least for the time being.
They now ‘purr’ on their wives more and the kids are also aware now that daddy gets touchy for the lamest of reasons.
Take heart little ones. He has always been like that. How could you have known this part of him when he leaves very early in the morning and comes back late at night?
To the real husbands who have stayed true to those marital vows, please take another leap of faith and reaffirm those vows in your mannerism and behaviour towards your wives.

4. Side Chics are Broke.
Queens of Sheba. The ones giving it to the married Solomon(s) on the side.
I know life is a bit hard right now. Manage your deodorant and cosmetics. Manage the little change you have left as best as you can because if you call him, he will hum while replying.
He will stammer and refer to you with names like Mike or Mechanic, or Tunde Ibadan or Nepa…and maybe speak to you in pidgin. He is being watched and listened to and compulsorily cuddling his legal partner too.
I bet she may now know your name and may also be planning with some friends or witches to spell out your doom.

Please be safe young and pretty woman. Your future husband needs you hale, hearty and alive and may as well be closer in arrival than you think.
Beautiful things can still happen after COVID-19. Stay alive.

5. Some Schools will be in Trouble after the Lock-down.
Many notes will be checked – hand writing, neatness, date writing, coma usage, paragraphing, note marking and typos will be succinctly analysed in the checked notes. Yes o.
The parents now have the time. As a matter of fact, it may be the first time some will be trying this exercise. Even the less educated ones will peruse their kids’ notes and may ask a few questions from their wards as regards school as well.
Teachers and school owners, may I suggest that you prepare your houses and put them in order.
Make plans for online lessons, create engaging contents for your students to assist with the pressure this pandemic has inflicted.

Most parents will be resuming school with their kids, with fire and fury as if you were responsible for their misery during COVID-19 Lock down.

6. Idleness and Lots of Sex.
An idle hand is the devil’s workshop. Many good minds have found room to nurse some form of evil at this time because of idleness. Even introverts aren’t pleased with the barrage of alone time the lock-down has provided. It has allowed time wastage, senseless play, fleeting moments of irrelevance, and for every time Baba Risi stares at his wife for 3 seconds or more in this lock down period, she understands that the other room might be the next destination.

It is fun at first…simply some good love making to make up for all those days when he used to get back from the work place, tired and unable to boogie down.
But then this turns into sex and then it becomes so random. Boom boom ciao. Yeah, you can blame the boredom.
I won’t be surprised if vices such as rape and other forms of sexual abuse, make the rounds in the coming days and weeks if this lock-down continues.

7. More Babies in December
‘Corona babies.’ I heard it too. I also heard that the largest manufacturers of condoms in the world haven’t produced a single rubber since February 2020. Hmm. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?
An unplanned member of the family may just surface come December and put shame to family planning for good.

Last borns, are you on the same wavelength with me here? It’s alright, I know you’re close to 30. How can anyone come again? Is that what you’re thinking? Okay.

As long as Grandpa is still alive, this lock-down will make him find his long lost erection and Grandma’s libido will surge like the fury of an injured warrior. She may shock you with another junior. Let us kobet…bring your little finger.

8. We can manage without Football.
Messi and C. Ronaldo. What am I saying?

Football lovers. You have amazed me the most.
You have survived without your beloved football. You have not died. Applaud yourselves.

I hear C. Ronaldo has gone back to school. Wise man. I hope he is exceptional in the classroom, the same way he is on the football field.

Moving on, like my baby use to say, I know some of you would love to come out and play the game on the deserted streets. Chai! Bubu has not allowed that to happen – there are soldiers everywhere.

Liverpool fans. What more can I say? For your sake, I hope the Premiership concludes the temporarily suspended season.
I believe none will be able to take the crown from this team even if there are 20 more matches left to play. They’ve been phenomenal this season.
I can’t imagine the level of injustice on Liverpool F.C. if denied this title, especially when it has eluded them for about 29 years or so.
It will be a tragic tale in football history and most importantly, the fans would have to wait a while longer to see something take the shine off Gerrard’s 2014 slip.

Finally my brethren, I’m in the spirit of Sunday already. Wow!
Let us look up to the one who gives light and wisdom and ask Him to teach us how to defeat this evil that has separated us in body but also united us in thought and action.
We saw how it began.
May we witness its end.

AND this one that Kyari has died now ehn, only God knows who is next in that place sef.
Do not think beyond the statement please. I wish everybody well.

Seun Afolabi.

Corona Diary – Day 1

Monday, 30th March, 2020.
I’m breathing fine. Not wounded or battling with my health, not in a condition to see my state of well-being hang on a balance between life and death because of the Wuhan disease COVID-19. I see on the news what’s happening in Spain and Italy and the United States of America and in the U.K, and all other parts of the world. I see it. It still feels unreal. It feels somewhat strange because I do not know the name of one single soul out of the many thousands who have suffered, fought to breathe and live, but then, have in the same vein had to watch and wait in pain and grieve as this disease with ease, continue to snatch them from their loved ones as it pleases.
A biological weapon? An experiment gone wrong? Wild animal market, bats and pangolins or the hand of God? Whatever the cause, it has birthed a global pandemic, such as I have never witnessed before.

I’m breathing fine. It’s Day 1 of Lagos state’s compulsory lockdown, yet, I’m bouncing in my house. I skipped my morning meal because I was too busy working and planning for life after COVID-19.
I’m convinced this will pass.
I have hope.
Lucky me. Am I not blessed?
And today, more bodies would burn, not by accident or some kind of arson, but by this evil, this chimera, this plague…this nasty killing microorganism…sadly, it has a beautiful name. Are they not as blessed as I think I am?

I am breathing fine. Very happy that my girlfriend calls from time to time. She misses me dearly and says she loves me every day, every time.
I wonder how much of missing there’d be for the loved ones, now departed and if the shed tears would fall and wet the ground or flow and make a river. If more people would die, if there would be more hand waves and wet eyes and painful goodbyes…I’m still wondering. What it would look like tomorrow or a month from now, when this will end and how it ends, I wonder still.

I am breathing fine, watching once busy streets get deserted.
Laughing at the ill-fated ones get dealt with by soldiers because they cannot comprehend this awesome boredom caused by the lockdown—I doubt they are aware it is for their safety- for our collective safety.
I’m strolling this vast compound space under the heat of the afternoon sun, counting my strides and bopping my head to the music in my head, with little care in the world because I’ve had a bath and my hands are sanitized.
Am I not special? Special than the handsome twenty-five-year-old soon to be doctor who succumbed to this lung attacker.
Wasn’t he special too?

I am breathing fine. Praying that this ends quickly. Wondering if I may catch the disease and what would become of me—of us, if we all contracted it in the end. Wondering if the average Nigerian hustler can survive the remaining days of the lockdown or if the less privileged would break this rule and risk their lives—our lives, because of the hunger in their bellies, or if they’d beg from house to house or sit it out…would their well-to-do neighbours be so kind to offer bread? Would they?

I’m breathing fine. God has given me another day to start again. Another day to breathe free air in the comfort of my home, to plan and prepare for what is next and pray for mercy and grace on my planet—earth. To appreciate my life and connect more with my loved ones. To do what I can when I can…if I can, because life is fleeting.
What if this ends tomorrow? What if it never ends? God rest the soul of the departed. God comfort us all in this trying time.
I saw how Corona began. I hope to witness its end.
Seun Afolabi.

The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Brute force or dialogue? Riot or discourse? Fight it right or write it right? A matter which requires proper addressing. Imagine yourself in a battle with a sword and a pen. It seems weird I know, but which would you fight with? The sword or the pen? 

Literally, swords are wonderful in the hands of soldiers who know how to wield them. People fall in line quickly, no doubts about that, but swords bring fear and trepidation, compared to the opportunity for reason and discourse that a pen can give.
Let us further weigh the pros and cons.
Pens write. Swords fight.
What the pen writes is read and whatever the sword touches tears or bleeds, and it can sometimes also lead to death. So, what is the benefit of a fight for a good cause which eventually results in the loss of lives? Zero. No martyrs here please.
There are evidence based facts from one generation to the next which has helped humanity to get an almost complete picture of which is better.
I need you to reason with me for a bit on this one.
If it is true that true order can only be achieved when there is chaos first, both pen and sword may be on the same level in terms of efficacy if we holistically look at it in figurative terms.

Mahatma Gandhi seems the finest example of what coordinated nonviolent protests can achieve. Many lives were saved by his peaceful methods which eventually yielded wonderful results, and it was not recorded anywhere on earth that he even carried a catapult in any one of his protests. An achievement worthy of note especially when you consider how rife the fights for civil rights were in the last century.

However, in a country like mine where activists and journalists get rough handled or locked up day after day for correctly practicing the democracy that the masses somehow still do not understand, don’t we need some form of revolution just as Ghana did in the time of Rowling?

DSS abeg o.

I have not said there will be a march in this regard.
Heaven knows I’d probably die if I was manhandled the way you did Mr. S in that courtroom—no be small matter.

South Africans and the era of apartheid was also sorted with more violence than discourse. Omar Bashir, Saddam Hussein, Yahya Jammeh and a few others were ousted by the violent actions of vexed citizens of their countries, who raised their voices to tyranny, sang and wrote about the oppression, before raising their hands in violence also to achieve what they wanted to achieve.

Beyond the layman’s view, from a microscopic stand point and under a lens of wisdom; outside the scope of what we see with our eyes, or what we can imagine in our minds, about how a pen can be mightier than a sword; under the umbrella of a metonymic maxim or wordings referred to as proverbial—like those in the biblical book of proverbs or on the sacred templates of Buddha, the pen is indeed mightier than the sword. Nobody wins against the tenets of the aforementioned book and institution. I mean, both encourages inner reflection and the attainment of spiritual perfection. Good for them.

From where I stand and observe however, discourse, diplomacy and violence are essential tools needed to pass a very strong message in the system of our world, before aggrieved persons can be taken seriously. No be say I get bad blood sha.

The sword and the pen. Which is mightier? Think really hard about it because I have.

Pens help swords get sharper. It is as simple as that.

What we read greatly influence our thoughts and actions. Ask the reader who reads and reflects. He draws some of his inspirations from the notes and acts accordingly. This helps him sharpen whatever sword he wishes to weild.

For some of us who understand that ours is a situation which requires more violence than prayers, we have sadly decided to open our mouths wide with the ink that flows in our pens, but lack the balls to arm ourselves with the sword. Yes. Who wan die?

Pens and swords have a symbiotic relationship yet to be understood by Nigerians in Nigeria. How can the pen be mightier than the sword in a place like ours? Ko possible mehn…
With the kind of graduates we have now and the way we read? Oh please…

Seun Afolabi

Ten years time

Do you have a vision?
Do you have a goal?
I’m watching you shrugging your shoulders
Telling me you just don’t know
Do you get emotional?
Is there something you’re passionate about?
I can tell that you’re still searching
Still trying to work it all out

It takes time, take your time
Mm, mmm, you will know when it feels right

Where you gonna be in ten years time?
Will you be happy with the way you’ve been living your life?
Will you be all right?
When you’re looking back to now on the years gone by
Will there be something that you say
That you should have done right in your life?

What would you fight for?
For what do you stand?
And how would you go about it?
And do you have a master plan?
What are your, demons?
How much for your soul?
Have you found religion
And gone down that road?

I guess, we all need something to believe
Oh, ooh, oh, times haven’t changed, that’s how it’s got to be

Where you gonna be in ten years time?
Will you be happy with the way you’ve been living your life?
Will you be all right? Yeah, yeah
When you’re looking back to now on the years gone by
Will there be something that you say
That you should have done right?
We’re talking about your life

Are you a dreamer?
Tell me all your dreams
Can you say honestly what you want to be?
What would you do when your back’s against the wall?
Would you stand on your two feet?
Would you admit defeat?
These are the times we need to be strong
Don’t you know? Don’t you know that it’s hard?
But we learn, we find a way
We got to find a way to carry on

Where you gonna be in ten years time?
Will you be happy with the way you’ve been living your life?
Will you be all right? Yeah, yeah
And when you’re looking back to now on the years gone by
Will there be something that you say
That you should have done right?
We’re talking about your life, your life

In 2005, when I first heard Gabrielle’s “Ten years’ time,” I honestly did not have the answers to the first three lines in her lyrics…I mean, I would have told her the same thing she said in line 4. Of course! I’m passionate about music than the other things I’m good at, but fast forward to 2019 and damn! I still look like a learner, trying to work it all out.
Even if it takes time, is thirteen years not too long for the realisation of a dream which started to play out since 2006? Yeah. That’s too long.
And I remember writing my 2020 goals three days ago. Making a hit song topped my list again. Am I mad? Maybe.
My best friend, after wishing that I had the best 12 months of my life in the New Year, also added that I stay hungry and foolish. And I gave a fvu*k about this statement, contrary to the title of Mark Manson’s best seller, because the truth peeped behind his joke and I saw it.
12 demos with no one hitting it big yet
1 video
3 shows where I graciously performed for free—the last was in 2015, although 2Baba singled me out for appraisal, waxed lyrical with me, said I was lit, got my details and that was it.
Have I done enough with these statistics? The answer falls in between a NO and MAYBE. It is definitely not a YES.

So, back to Gabrielle. “How would you go about it? Do you have a master plan?”
That’s the missing piece with me and lots of individuals who are still struggling to maximize their potential. It’s like we know where we are headed (At least I told a group of lecturers during my seminar presentation that music was what I wanted and not marine biology, when I was asked where I hoped to be in five years—that was in 2008) but we just don’t know how to go about the strategic planning to make our dreams authentic.
If this hits the right note with you, I don’t know what you want to do about yours, and I can’t even advise you to row like this or that because we are already in the same boat.
But this is another year and another start for me. Honestly, I see nothing beyond the music, the stuffs I write and the content I provide.
So, I’m squashing everything else that has taken my time and given me peanuts to survive.
I’m learning something new that will add to my skill set in this line
I’m getting a mentor to help with my ideas and life’s routine
I’ll sleep when my eyes get drowsy. I won’t force sleep away from my eyes again (weird right?)
I’ll work with purpose and play without care.
I won’t give a fvu*k about social media marriages, cars, food, places…you already know the rest.
I’ll try not to let their talks get to me. It’s not easy, but I’ll try.
I’ll pray better.
Shockingly, I won’t think about 10 years’ time, I’ll rather think about the things I can influence now.

So, you can take cues from all these, but feel free to do whatever suits you. As long as those barriers to success are conquered or broken, we’re good.
For friends who have distanced themselves, the fault is mine. Yeah, the fault is ours—I mean, for those in the same shoe. We’d have dragged you all back, we apologise and promise to elevate so that we can get you back.

Are you a dreamer?
Forget about Gabrielle or the fact that I have mentioned my dream. You don’t have to tell me yours. But can you honestly say what you want to be?
Would you stand on your two feet when your back is against the wall or will you accept defeat?
Forget about your age. Forget about your self-perceived status, forget the friends you started with—pray for their continuous rise and trust your creative abilities. Trust the process and pray.

I hope this year is when I make that hit song.
Or maybe I have made it already.
Go write your own story
2020, you must succeed.

Seun Afolabi

Outside The Box

Since the introduction of Bus Rapid Transit, popularly referred to as BRT, I have mostly stayed away from other commercial vehicles, using these Fashola buses as a means of transportation wherever and whenever they are available. I try to avoid conversations whenever I’m journeying within Lagos in a bus, and would rather have my ears at the mercy of the songs sipping into its canals from my ear piece, than listen to the haranguing of the mobile pastor, drug/herb seller; the casual rants of a disgruntled passenger, facing off with the bus driver or its conductor, or the vociferous arguments from football punditry, and of course, the politically charged atmosphere some of my fellow passengers could sometimes create.
“Anti-social” is not a term embedded in my DNA, but more importantly, my creative being is often harmed by these ones, whose actions, as harmless as they are or may seem, tend to brain rape whatever fresh ideas my mind wants to explore, with the swooshing environment I am now used to creating ideas with, from my bus’ enclosure. What other buses in Lagos wouldn’t allow me experience these inconveniencies other than the BRT’s or a personally owned vehicle? I cannot count the number of songs or write-ups of mine whose ideas were established while I was on the seat of a moving bus. I enjoy a few of my flirtations with the yellow, black striped Lagos buses, especially when the BRT’s seldom stop at my take off point, or do not ply the area I find myself in at all.
The last journey I made in one of those yellow buses was a migraine and heart attack bringer. From PWD to Sango’s Toll gate, I was completely messed up in the head.
First, it was the song coming from the car stereo. A fast paced juju/fuji music genre with lots of sexual innuendos that got the heavily tribal scarred face of the driver, twitching with excitement. The kicks from the beat were extremely heavy, the percussion was not properly mixed and mastered. It’s like listening to a rock song from a bad speaker, except that this time, it was actually a bad song from an equally bad speaker, just behind my seat, beside the driver of the bus. It coursed through me, like the stereo was dishing out the noise from inside my chest and stomach. It made me sweat in the clouding weather, shook my upper torso so badly that I had to look the driver in the eye and politely ask him to bring the noise down. The noise was slightly reduced and could go no further than he had reluctantly done, when I gazed at him later on with the same petition in my expression. He mumbled a few words, smirked and concentrated on the road. I kept a straight face onward because I feared the backlash of words in his slightly accentuated Ibadan accent and awful kind of brute attitude.
Then came the altercation between him and an elderly woman behind me, a childish case of having the last say in an argument. They traded insults, yelled and cussed, to the amusement of some of the passengers. On and on, back and forth, the scar faced driver and the light skinned woman, tore at each other’s parents and families with words not appropriate for children or any sane person in that kind of setting. Even if I had been with my earpiece, I doubt it would have assisted my yearnings for a noise free journey. From the pedestrians waiting to catch a bus, ours was a filled one on a smooth ride, but for me and from where I was seated in the bus, it was out-and-out bedlam.
The traffic! God! The traffic. No wonder we age faster in Lagos. For those who journey to and from the Island to Oshodi centre, all the way down to toll gate and beyond, how many years have you wasted in the heat and dust of Lagos traffic?
With the driver’s skillful maneuverings, bursting into and out of the feeder roads between Abulegba and Toll gate bus stops, we spent twenty minutes more than an hour. I regretted getting out of my house.
The rains began a couple of minutes to three on Saturday afternoon. The security guard at the gate of my client’s estate, added another experience to my CV, as we jointly ordered the comings and goings of cars and people from his small gate side cubicle- I greeted the pedestrians and called his somnolent eyes to the attention of the passing cars only.
I had a good time with my client, a fine, talented young man with an inspiring grass to grace story. We had our session and he apologized for all inconveniences on my part. He even gave me a token for my transportation back home. Awon client gidi leleyi.
I got back to my marriage with the BRT on my way back home- we had not divorced in the real sense. I cheated on her, my darling BRT, but it was no fault of mine though… she wasn’t available, so I could enter in the first place. The sitters were relatively less chatty than the standers, not the kind of ambience my mind required to function at its best, but it was enough to lay the foundation for the story I am typing out now. No preaching, no advertisement of whatever form, no passenger-driver/conductor hassle, no politics, no punditry, just passengers who want to get to their destinations after a long day.
Some derive theirs from booze or cigars, some from cannabis or coke and others from every sensual and sexual pleasure there is, or whatever is necessary to reach their creative core and explore.
For someone like me, who cherish alone times and quiet moments; who loves to enjoy his bus rides and feed his eyes on the buildings or thickets; the motorcycles and the lizard like appearances of the riders’ faces under their helmets; the tricycles, cars and bridges and various interactions between people: the inaudible exchanges between the conductor and the passengers when I have my earpiece on, with SIA’s beautiful octave, 2 Baba’s sounds of wisdom, Davido’s jives, Jon Bellion’s master pieces, E4enterprises’ flows and Scala and Kolacny Brothers, giving me such epic theme sounds with their many beautiful and harmonious, sometimes symphony-like covers, I wish at all times that all bus rides could be quiet and trouble free.
They make me ponder and pull out from me, mind blowing, Eureka moments, as I always find myself exploring new fields, thinking outside the box in a noiselessly moving bus.

Seun Afolabi.

Bits and Horses

“Indeed, we put bits in horses’ mouths that they may obey us, and we turn their whole body.”

We all can relate with this quote in a way. I mean, in a country crammed with certain abnormalities; corruption being the major headliner and a sort of umbrella, someway we’ve either played as bit givers or the horses.
Okay! What sort of biblical allusion is this?
Please forgive my reasoning for seeming a juvenile sort, and you can as well stop reading at this point; curiosity killed the cat and this might infuriate you more. You’ve been warned.
We’ve allowed selfishness and greed rob us of good values. We’ve played into the hands of the mighty in the society in order to satisfy our lust and unending wants, abruptly turned needs.
For bits we’ve lied.
For bits we’ve stolen and cheated.
For bits we’ve equivocated and sworn falsely.
For bits we’ve made unfulfilled promises and no deeds from intentions grand.
For bits we want to associate with certain kinds of people and for the same bits, we severe connections.
For bits some have slandered their way up to a top they’ll eventually fall from.
For love bits from their children, certain parents spare the rod and create oddities.
For money bits, a lady milks and rides the ‘horse’ guy who in turn rides her too… if you know what I mean.
For financial bits, the pastor prophesy pleasantly to the robber, lays more emphasis on tithes and offering, using ‘Thus sayeth the Lord’ to horse ride his ignorant members; forgetting about true worship, consecration and sanctity in God’s sanctuary.
For sexual bits, the lecturer wants a socket for his plug and for grade bits, the student wants to take many a lecturer for a horse ride.
For bits, votes are sold and complaints later made when the elected start to whip and ride the ones who voted them in like horses.
For ego and pride bits, we curse, swear and fight back with no worries… since God’s vengeance on our behalf is assumed to be always untimely. No be so?
For bits of favour, our lips are quick to deceive and praise people unnecessarily.
For bits of vanity, leaders make policies which questions rationality and sanity, no wonder mediocrity abounds as the once wise now celebrate the stupidity of stupidly stupid people.
One sad truth about the horse is this. It symbolizes strength, resilience and brawn, but not brains. Remember Boxer and Clover in George Orwell’s Animal Farm. They were ignorant of the manipulative power of Napoleon, the pig, who wore them out with false hopes and sweet words of freedom. If you know that story well, did they really get free?
People say that it is just the way our world is, filled with bit givers and horses whose bodies can be turned for the right amount or quantity of bit.
The government pay in bits, civil servants can relate with this. That is why they do their job in bits too and are always eager to make more bits from making files appear and disappear at will.
Private institutions do the same, religious organisations are not left out. Special prayers for special individuals with special bits to offer… I can hold my testicles and testify in that regard.
Where are the good values I once held dear? What happened to me? What happened to us? God’s intention for our world is not what it is now. This is so very far from it. We’ve successfully made the bars of our own prison for bits, pathetic isn’t it?
I sincerely wish I had a solution to the bit problem but I’ve got a whole lot of bills to pay.
Turn my whole body, ride me like a horse, maybe it was always meant to be this way. Really?
Three words and a question to ask, I bet the answer will come out nice and easy.
HOLY, COMMENDABLE AND JUST. Do you have all three?
Till I find something else for you to digest, feel free to ponder but then, stay healthy, eat well, exercise and rest. One life is what you have been given, so, please, live it well.
LIVE it with the desire to better lives.
LEAVE it when it does nothing but wound the body, mind and soul and hurt the heart like stabbing knives.
LIVE it with a purpose, one that has love and kindness towards everything that is living.
LEAVE it when it brings chaos and confusion to one and all; are you not tired of the sadness and the pain and anguish of those who are pained and grieving?
LIVE it like a king, a bold yet humble ruler who serves with such dignity that is nigh uncommon.
LEAVE it when it breeds pride and haughtiness, the proud are brought down someway somehow.
LIVE it with such admirable zest to be kind towards the other fellow.
LEAVE it when it encourages materialism, envy and greed.
LEAVE it when it makes you sad and depressed; especially when it makes you feel guilty in the shadow of darkness, evil and sin.

For GOD! The creator of the heavens and earth, and mankind and what was and is to come, LIVE IT. LIVE FREE!

Seun Afolabi.

Self Check

How can you do good, if you do not feel good?
How can you love, if you do not love yourself?
How can you fulfill that sweet dream when you are the evil behind someone else’s nightmare?
How can you live and revel in the beauty of your imagination, when you are peeved and saddled with the beastliness of your past?
How can your trespasses be forgiven, when you love to pay back and always get the wicked deed even?
How can you be admired and commended, when you’re quick to find faults and in so doing, shatter one too many confidence?
You bow to no one, you are your own boss, how can you be listened to and respected?
Your domineering persona has gotten many wounded and offended but in your trying time; you seek for equity and fairness in judgment.
Your eyes are marauding, your shoulders are high and your appearance, puffed up and haughty but you are quick to point at another’s impudence and pride
Nothing is wrong with you, the problem is with others around you and you claim nobody understands you. Do you really care about them or hope to garner sympathy for a cause which has inadvertently brought your self-centeredness to bear?
Accumulating love brings luck but the hatred you have accrued has brought nothing but calamity
You preach renunciation but you are incapable of results and the honesty in your eyes is faulted by the succinct tapestry of your lies
Your stupidity is magnified; you are foolish and not wise
You have been used by solitude one too many times as your clean slate in the open is so muddled up in your closet
You are yet to move past the habitual tendency to judge others… why are you projecting your own thoughts, emotions and insecurities into them?
Truth be told, there is no beauty in ugliness
Do some self-reassessment and put a tight lid on your viciousness.
You can start doing good and feeling good
Start loving yourself, your lit up face will reflect on others
You can achieve that dream still if you can help others achieve theirs too
Be the architect of your future and not a prisoner of your past
Forgive and forget
There is a bright side to the darkest of circumstances, search for it in yourself and others before judging
Empty your cup, observe and learn and be humble enough to accept help
Do unto others what you’ll have others do to you
Be as modest as you can be in your dealings
Pay more attention to the moment
Peaceful thoughts and thinking equals peaceful living
Nothing is wrong with you, you’re just fine
Give your best in everything that you do
Be good.

Seun Afolabi.