AFRICANS AND THEIR IRRATIONAL PENCHANT FOR RESPECT

Africans are by nature quite obsessed with respect and this obsession may be predicated on our cultural upbringing. I remember while growing up we had some neighbours who whenever they came to the house knelt on both knees to greet my mom. In the same vein, we in turn had to return same to their parents anytime we go over to their house to play. And God bless your soul if you didn’t do that, then you will be reprimanded in the strictest of ways.

From time immemorial I had a daily ritual. As soon as I wake up in the morning, I matched to my parent’s room to greet them good morning, then proceed to render same obeisance to my aunts, uncles and elder siblings. That caught on for a long while before I ditched it as one of my attempts at a stubborn juvenile emancipation. 

This matter of respect reminds me of an ex-colleague I worked with a couple of years back. She was cool alright and couldn’t have been more than 10 years older than I am and we got off well. Though now that i think about it, I believe it was mainly because she thought I was older than I really am. I have been told that I act quite mature, guess i am an old soul.

Anyway, this colleague seemed okay with me calling her by her first name until for some reason she stumbled upon one of my credentials and figured out my age. Since then, things changed and she began to Lord over me at any given opportunity, though I did my best to ignore her. Until one day she sequestered me at the office toilet and informed me flatly that she did mind the way I called her by her first name. Saying she would prefer if in future I used the prefix of Mrs or Madam while addressing her. It seemed to me like something from a standup comedy. See me see wahala. Well, I thought since it was so damn important to her, I mentally reset my mind to always include that prefix to her anytime I addressed her.

What’s curious about this is that I never respected her less when I called her by her first name, so why did she feel the need to crave for a ‘Madam’ title? In fact, by the time I began calling her madam, whatever ounce of respect I had for her diminished considerably.  And please note that she never extended a similar respect to me. Instead, she bossed me around more than she did in the past. Including, leaving me to do her work, while I barely had time to do mine.

Recently, I was at a wedding and the MC called the chairman of the occasion to the high table but the chairman refused to rise. Apparently, he is a Chief of some sort in his hometown so without affixing his title, he refused to acquiesce to the invitation and kept the occasion at a stand still for several minutes. It was only until his aide walked up to the podium, collected the microphone from the MC and called the entire names of the said Chief before he walked to the high table.

At Lasgidi a couple of weeks back, I was hanging out at a spot with some of my friends and a top European expatriate Mark who was my friend’s boss. It was a fun night and we talked about everything. Gradually the discussion shifted to this matter of respect and how Africans and maybe Nigerians in particular could give their right arm just to be referred to as Mr, Sir, and the most revered “Oga or Madam”.

My friend who worked with other Nigerian men in the same company with portfolios lesser than that of Mark told us that if he ever called anyone of the other Nigerians by their first names, he was sure they would plot to have him fired. But not Mark. In fact, Mark could not possibly fathom why on earth he could possibly want to be referred to as Mr. Mark. In his opinion it will make him seem unapproachable to his subordinates and that, he couldn’t stand. While we joked around the table referring to him as Mr. Mark, my oyinbo brother became miffed.

Same with my bosses, whenever they introduce themselves to people whether those closest to their age of even much younger, they tell you their first name only. One time I asked Papi why he did so, and he informed me that it is himself he’s introducing. It is his father who is Mr. Papi.  So I began to wonder, if whites and other Nigerian with a certain kind of exposure cannot be bothered about this eye service we do here, why do we choose to be rope ourselves with it to the point of strangling ourselves?

I have some very tiny cousins who will gladly call me Aunty. They could practically worship the floor I walk on but I would never have that. To me, it will only distance me from them, making me unapproachable and somewhat like a cold distant relative to them. Besides, what will it benefit me? They already respect me as it is, do I now want them to revere me? Haba! 

In our society it is normal for us to use the Madam, Oga, Egbon, Yaya titles. Since it is so for people you are older than to respect you, why would you feel the need to affix a title to your name? This I believe is just an extreme case of vanity and aggrandizement. 

Do not get me wrong, I am not implying that we respect our elders less. All I am saying is that we also must respect those younger than we are. There’s no place where it is written that it is the sole responsibility of the young to respect elders. It is a ‘give and take’ relationship. When you respect people, you in turn get respected yourself.

#Word.

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WHEN “SETTLING” STARTS TO LOOK APPEALING

The time was 9:09am on Thursday morning. I was seated at my desk sipping on hot chocolate and nibbling on some cookies. It had been a long troubling night and I was just happy the night was over and I could be at work doing what I do and pretending all was well in my well-ordered universe. It was then I received a call from my aunt- “a self-acclaimed Cupid helper”.

Earlier while en-route the office I got a call from a close friend of mine and he had filled me with plenty gist to lift my spirit even though it was only for a moment. So I got to work in a dapper mood and went on with my work. 

It was then the 9:09am call came in. This same aunt had played cupid for me and this protégé of her husband’s about 5 years ago, though he and I had met before prior to her introduction. It was back in secondary school when I saw his picture with a friend and had a huge crush on him. The friend introduced us and we got speaking. However, we hadn’t kept in touch much until my dear cupid helper interceded. So we began a pseudo relationship which was predicated on phone calls only and we barely saw.

After a while I realized he didn’t make my blood stir (I don’t mean this in a sexual way), but he didn’t ignite in me any kind of intellectual fire. I am a stickler for intellectualism, and a good command of English is the first thing I find admirable in a man. Some of my friends call me a sapio-sexual, but what can I say, they aren’t very far from the mark. When a guy mistakes “seat” for “sit” I begin to wonder if I can bear to be stuck with someone like that for the rest of my life.

From an early age I knew I didn’t care if a guy was tall, dark, handsome, rich blah blah. I just wanted him to be smart, educated, vast and versatile. Is that too much to ask?

I am one of those people who love the idea of love so much. In fact, I can “categorically” tell you I love Love. After gobbling up every Harlequin and Historical Romance novel I could lay my hands on while growing up I am sure you will understand where I am coming from. I believe in fairytale; The-whole-knight-in-shining-armor thing. Where a chivalrous man will come in one smooth move, sweep in to save a damsel in distress, marry her and jet off to the forever happily ever after. But to be honest, if you live in the real world you will know that just as every fairytale had evil witches and evil stepmothers, reality’s love affairs aren’t always that beautiful.

Back to my 9:09am phone call, Aunty Cupid called to remind me of same guy she had hooked me up with a couple of years ago. She regaled me with ‘words of wisdom’ from an older married woman’s perspective about how this dude was looking to get married and she feels very strongly that we are well suited for each other. Yes, he is a sweet soul, but here lies my predicament. I’ve always believed that the only reason I would want to get married is if I was totally in love with my significant other. I knew from the get-go that I do not ever want to have to “settle” for anything or anyone just because my peers are all getting hitched and showing off their glamorous engagement rings.

But that was 5 years ago. I may consider myself to be very young but I make no illusions. I have heard stories of women who had so many suitors knocking down their doors to ask for their hands in marriage and they declined every time with no clear reason. Now they are pushing 40 and are desperately looking to settle down. So NO, I do not want to be like that, I want the whole 9 yards. 

However, when you’ve gone through the motions of dating a couple of guys who cannot commit to a particular sock, talk more of committing to a woman, you begin to question that once fundamental bylaw you adhered to. When you know that to find a man who understands that it is his responsibility to take care of his woman, is more difficult than searching for a needle in a sack of hay - That’s when you will begin to have a rethink.

When my female friends who I thought knew what they wanted in a man and would never settle for less begin to rescind their earlier stances and they say to me “Jay, he’s nice and provides for me, what more do I want?” that’s when the harsh reality set in.

This arrangee guy is nice alright, he is sweet in fact, thoughtful also and I roger he will endeavour to provide for me. But is that all a young woman should want from a man she plans to share the rest of her life with? What about that burning fire in your heart? The butterflies in your tummy when you see or think of him? Honestly, sometimes I ask myself; Is wanting all that too much? Will the wait be worth it? So, I think I just might give this fella a chance. It may or may not work out, but we’ll see how it goes. *winks*

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3 MUFFINS AND A CUP OF JUICE

A comical and satirical reflection of Nigeria Air Transport.

It was a bright and sunny day as most Sundays are. I had barely managed to secure my booking online for the “Best” airline in the country to fly from Lagos to Abuja. I had gone for a weekend meeting in Lagos with a team from my office and I was trying my damnest best to return to Abuja early so I can prepare to resume work on Monday. 

It was to be a 9am flight and i had my friends leave the house at 6:30am so they can beat any of the incessant traffic associated with a typical day in Lagos. They dropped me off at the airport at 8:15am and I gave myself a generous pat on the shoulder convinced that I would be airborne in an hour. 

I did the necessary check-in ritual and practically jogged into the plane. I sent a message to my friends to arrange for pick up and settled in to wait for when the pilot will announce readiness to take off. Before long, 30minutes had passed. Just then the passenger sitting beside me noticed the air was hazy and somewhat smoky inside the airplane. He called an air hostess and complained and she escaped into the pilot cockpit to report the matter. 30 minutes later, the pilot informed us that there seems to be a slight problem and they were expecting some expert engineers to come check the plane out to assure us of its air worthiness. We sat put for another hour while they tinkered. 

At that time my dear Yoruba brothers and sisters began to panic and you could hear the “ngbati” talks as they alighted from the plane. After a while the rather brusque sounding pilot came out to inform us that someone had contacted his superiors about the issue. However, he assures us that the haziness was not a threat to the flight so those willing to travel should please remain put and all those who felt their lives weren’t safe should please alight and take their luggage. Before long he came to inform us again that he had been ordered to return the plane to the hangar and he had put in a request for another plane.

Those of us remaining in the plane alighted and proceeded to the departure lounge to wait while they prepped the new plane. At the departure lounge I sat beside a well adorned woman with gold jewelry all over her body. She was bragging to those of us sitting close to her how she had called an Oga at the top to report the incidence, so it was obvious it was her intervention that got us special consideration.

The second plane was prepped and we proceeded to board. After a couple of minutes again the same pilot returned to inform us that the new plane was not air worthy at all and in his opinion we should have taken the first plane as it was. See me see wahala oo, as though our lives weren’t important to us? Please, I’ve got a momma who would shit bricks if anything bad happened to me so I led a heavy tongue lashing at the pilot for his gruffness and insensitivity. We disembarked and returned again to the departure lounge.

At that time half of the passengers had ditched the flight, picked their luggage and left the airport. I couldn’t afford to forfeit the flight money because I had spent heavily to book a last minute flight and yes, it would dent my account if I had to repay. 

By this time it was 3pm and just then we were called upon to board a third airplane. The plane was scheduled to fly the Lagos-Port Harcourt route, but had been set on a rescue mission and had been re-routed to take us (the remaining passengers) to Abuja. 

It was past lunch time (I don’t joke with my food, mind you), and most of us had begun to get cranky.  Just then a jaded hostess and an air host arrived with a stiff conciliatory smile, giving out some refreshment to a knackered crop of passengers while we gobbled up the minute offerings. At the end of it all, as compensations went, we were handed three muffins and a cup of juice. How demeaning! But as Nigerians, we were quick to forgive them and just thank God that we had arrived safely. After all as they say, ‘when there is life there is hope’ abi?

Jemimah-Nikky Jates' Blog: YOUTH IS WASTED ON THE YOUNG

Jemimah-Nikky Jates' Blog: YOUTH IS WASTED ON THE YOUNG: With barely 24 hours to a much anticipated birthday, and the nagging anxiety of growing older, I got to thinking and asking my...

YOUTH IS WASTED ON THE YOUNG

With barely 24 hours to a much anticipated birthday, and the nagging anxiety of growing older, I got to thinking and asking myself some pertinent questions. Where am I right now in my life? Where do I see myself in a couple of years? And my mind went to the words my boss always says… Youth is Wasted On The Young.

You see, my boss (Papi) has been an integral part of my career development since I began working with the company. This favorite saying of his is a famous quote of the renowned Irish playwright/dramatist and essayist -George Bernard Shaw who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1925.

Papi would constantly tease me and call me an old woman. (Please note, he is atleast 27 years older than I am) but he is by far the youngest man (at heart) that I have ever met. He is so open to new ideas and things which is so unlike many people of the older generation. What always baffled him was why many young people who are graduates when asked what they wanted to become still had no idea what course they wanted their lives to take. In his opinion, people do not have an idea of how much they can achieve while they are still young, and in the future will only think back wistfully at what they could have been.

I remember He would grill every friend of mine who came into the office to visit about their present jobs, future aspirations, goals, etc. In fact, some of my lazier friends began dodging to visit as they didn’t quite enjoy the psychological gingering Papi made them go through. 

The thing is, Papi expects nothing short of excellence from his staff (and consequently from people close to them) so he used to chide me also for being quite lax in my aspirations back then. He would ask me every month or at most once in a quarter to write a one pager memo dictating my accomplishment in the past month –both professionally and personally. Then together we will evaluate them. He will advise where necessary, chide, where necessary and sometimes rebuke, where necessary.

Mid way into these evaluations I realized I didn’t quite like these rituals, because I found out that they usually put me in a melancholic mood after every session when I realize I hadn’t quite achieved as much as I would have wanted. You see, the problem was by the time I was 15years old I was convinced I wanted to be a criminal lawyer. My family and family friends had more or less conferred that career path on me. They thought I was sharp and could put up a good argument any day, so I would do well as a lawyer. And after having ploughed through a dozen or so of John Grisham and James Patterson’s Novels, I kind of just eased into that status.

But as divine providence would have it, I got offered admission to study Mass Communication. And for 4 years, the one thing that got me through school was the thought that I would return for a second degree in Law. I got through four years of school still trying to figure out if Mass Comm was a worthwhile course. I read and passed all necessary courses, but I was still unsure about whether or not I wanted to practice Journalism. I am sure this scenario is not unique to me alone.
However, after graduation, I found myself reluctant to return to become an undergraduate again so I began dragging my feet. It was at that time I began working with my boss.

Anyway, One month I refused to turn in my assessment memo and he questioned me about it. I explained to him my misgivings about the evaluation and he assured me I need not be too hard on myself. I should be willing to take baby (though firm) steps, and then I would see improvements myself.

So I learnt to fly with this positive attitude, and today I can say I am charting the right course for myself. In fact, I always try to impart it to anyone I meet, especially people who are yet to find their bearing career-wise. I tell them if at first you are unsure of what you want to do, keep trying your head and hands in different things until you find what you love to do.

I met the CEO of a top firm a couple of months back who is a client of our firm and we got talking about career opportunities. He couldn’t hide his disappointment with how many young people are easily tossed by the wind today. And how some only want the fast route to making money without wanting to develop themselves first. He expressed his bitterness that despite the fact that many young people are becoming inventors and thus millionaires in their fields, many of us still have no idea of where and what we want to be in as little as a year. Talk more of having a 5 year vision/plan for their lives.

He told me that most people will stereotype this to applying to women alone, but that’s not correct. In his words many men just plan to “hustle” now and have no future sustainable plans”. 

It is true that employment is hard to come by in the country, and of course we need to take what we can get. However it is important that we never lose sight of what it is we really want to make of our lives. Do not get too comfortable with where you are that you limit your capabilities to improve. 

If you cannot do great things, do small things in a great way.

Take a smart chance every now and then. That’s why we are young. We have the mental capacity to think wide and the energy to do the work. We should expose ourselves to new things, enjoy life so much that in retrospect we wouldn’t wish we had time to do this and that but realizing it is too late to do them.

Remember that hindsight always gives a 20/20 vision, so best to plant now and reap rewards later.