Alright, so I am a critic of people who come in front of cameras to literally fool themselves. I don’t mean those people who play unsolicited waka pass roles in our typical nollywood videos. I mean, they just stand and stare, distorting the scene. Directors and producers must have given up on trying getting them away from the background. They shoot videos these days, hoping the audience will ignore them and focus on the major actors. Of course I also do not mean news correspondents, pushing cameras in faces of bus conductors or market women (that will be the other way round, right?).
These ones, who probably, see this as a rare opportunity for their faces to be plastered across screens, will joyfully volunteer to yak. Excessively. To be fair though, sometimes, they make sense… near-coherent statements.
No, these ones are totally forgivable. I am talking about those you see in the cinemas, malls, events, shows, and then this well dressed guy or couple of ladies gleefully embrace the camera (this is my time to shine) and when asked a question, end up thoroughly yakking, you begin to ask if they understood the question asked at all.
My favourite of all are red carpet moments. Don’t get me wrong, the carpet could be any colour; green, yellow, even indigo. Whatever, it doesn’t matter, so far I get the juicy part; who is wearing what, who said what, who came in with whom, and the whole works. For those of us who are too busy (you believe me), and constantly miss events ’cos we are working (indeed), and making money(coughing and looking sideways), these events coverage really help us , especially when friends begin to gist about what went down at the show, we don’t just blend with the gist, we speak authoritatively on the issue!
Back to the yakking spree. While some guests are extremely witty, borne out of natural intelligence or experience with cameras, others just take the cake for speaking out of line. At times, it’s a case of “Christ, did she just say ‘is’ instead of ‘was’?” and “oh, she said it again”, (and then with serious beef) “upon all the platform heels and eye shadow…hee hee.”
I have tremendously simmered down with my criticism. I am not exactly proud of what led to this but guys, I had a rare red carpet moment(or was it wine?), with a camera shoved in my face(Seriously ,they came to me , not the other way round), and I was, wait for this, stuttering! Alright, it wasn’t that bad, I stuttered just a little, just a teeny weeny bit (ah, my rep kè?). But then, the thought of my siblings and friends going, “what the heck was she saying…she was rambling…hee hee?” sounds totally uncool. Talk about having a taste of your pudding!
Thursday, May 28, 2009
never say die...naija spirit
I could swear I had seen these guys before. The wide eyes, anxious movements, suspicious looks, sweaty bodies .Like they were looking for something. It looked all too familiar, like a severe case of déjà vu. It was like …wait a second, I know them. These were my coursemates back at school .But it wasn’t the faces that was nagging at me, it was their composure or lack of it .We were minutes away from writing an online job test and somehow they had managed to find themselves at the same venue.
Let’s go back in time, shall we? We are in the university, same guys, same attitude, and same shifty look. In a few minutes, we were going to be writing an exam and these guys were searching for a point of convergence to form Voltron, defender of the universe. Remember Voltron and how all the lions come together to form the undefeatable Voltron? These guys are lions. I meant that metaphorically.(No shaggy mare. Walking on fours? Come on.) As in the cartoon, Voltron always defeated the enemy; these guys defeated whatever exam there was. Combined-efforts extraordinaire. But that is not the point. The point is that old habits die hard and for the average Nigerian student, in no truer sense does this apply.
But who am I to complain. I discovered that we all bore that syndrome. I happened to be called for a job interview. I rehearsed all possible questions but took for granted the details of company activities, corporate culture, and all the jargon one is compelled to learn when called for an interview. During the interview, it seemed like the only thing the interviewers couldn’t get enough of. I mumbled away some vague answers, hoping to make some sense. I left, knowing I had bungled the entire process but surprise, surprise; I was called for the next stage, another interview. Not ready to be caught unawares a second time, I decided to carry out a thorough research on the company. I hit the net and downloaded the necessary info.
The next day, feeling confident and a foot taller than every other person, like I had an expo they didn’t have, I walked into the waiting area. As I settled into my seat with that “hey, I know something you don’t” smile, and “I did something you didn’t” look, I could see that other interviewees had sheets of papers in their hands. They were reading, muttering, reciting, and asking questions. Typical of the last revision before exam, at school. Christ! Nigerians. “Hustlers.” I muttered under my breath.
Alright, so you think I was selfish to have assumed I would be the only one who would bother to go research on the company? Did I actually think that people were that dumb? Who no want better thing? As I sat pondering, “so where the heck is my competitive edge?” a girl just hurried in and sat beside me. “Gosh, am I late? What time are you scheduled for?” She asked. “9 am” I replied. “And you still haven’t gone in, it’s past 10am” she said. “Well, they may be taking their time.” I shrugged in response .Smiling with relief she said “That’s good then. They’ll have to finish those for 9am before they’ll get to me.” As I looked questioningly at her, she turned and in a conspiratorial tone added “I really need to jack this thing again.” My eyes widened as she brought out what seemed to be a stack of papers from her bag. She had literally downloaded, and printed the whole site. Even things I hadn’t bothered to check. “Hustlers, them all,” I rolled my eyes in exasperation. And then, as an afterthought, I turned to her. Flashing a smile that could make Robert Mugabe give up the presidency, I asked “Dearie, please, can I take a look at some of those materials?”
“Hustlers, us all.”
Let’s go back in time, shall we? We are in the university, same guys, same attitude, and same shifty look. In a few minutes, we were going to be writing an exam and these guys were searching for a point of convergence to form Voltron, defender of the universe. Remember Voltron and how all the lions come together to form the undefeatable Voltron? These guys are lions. I meant that metaphorically.(No shaggy mare. Walking on fours? Come on.) As in the cartoon, Voltron always defeated the enemy; these guys defeated whatever exam there was. Combined-efforts extraordinaire. But that is not the point. The point is that old habits die hard and for the average Nigerian student, in no truer sense does this apply.
But who am I to complain. I discovered that we all bore that syndrome. I happened to be called for a job interview. I rehearsed all possible questions but took for granted the details of company activities, corporate culture, and all the jargon one is compelled to learn when called for an interview. During the interview, it seemed like the only thing the interviewers couldn’t get enough of. I mumbled away some vague answers, hoping to make some sense. I left, knowing I had bungled the entire process but surprise, surprise; I was called for the next stage, another interview. Not ready to be caught unawares a second time, I decided to carry out a thorough research on the company. I hit the net and downloaded the necessary info.
The next day, feeling confident and a foot taller than every other person, like I had an expo they didn’t have, I walked into the waiting area. As I settled into my seat with that “hey, I know something you don’t” smile, and “I did something you didn’t” look, I could see that other interviewees had sheets of papers in their hands. They were reading, muttering, reciting, and asking questions. Typical of the last revision before exam, at school. Christ! Nigerians. “Hustlers.” I muttered under my breath.
Alright, so you think I was selfish to have assumed I would be the only one who would bother to go research on the company? Did I actually think that people were that dumb? Who no want better thing? As I sat pondering, “so where the heck is my competitive edge?” a girl just hurried in and sat beside me. “Gosh, am I late? What time are you scheduled for?” She asked. “9 am” I replied. “And you still haven’t gone in, it’s past 10am” she said. “Well, they may be taking their time.” I shrugged in response .Smiling with relief she said “That’s good then. They’ll have to finish those for 9am before they’ll get to me.” As I looked questioningly at her, she turned and in a conspiratorial tone added “I really need to jack this thing again.” My eyes widened as she brought out what seemed to be a stack of papers from her bag. She had literally downloaded, and printed the whole site. Even things I hadn’t bothered to check. “Hustlers, them all,” I rolled my eyes in exasperation. And then, as an afterthought, I turned to her. Flashing a smile that could make Robert Mugabe give up the presidency, I asked “Dearie, please, can I take a look at some of those materials?”
“Hustlers, us all.”
FRIENDS!FRIENDS? FRIENDS??! FACEBOOK.
Really, am like the only one who has a network of friends below the number, 200 on Facebook. Even Funmi, whom I introduced to Facebook, is racing towards over 400 friends which more than doubles mine. Some people actually have up to a 1000.Pray, how do you communicate with these people cos really, even if you had to spend half a day on Facebook, you couldn’t get to a quarter of a 1000.Or could you?
The argument of a friend that, apart from getting to hook up with your friends and maintaining that steady stream of info , Facebook provides you with a data base of people connected to you on several levels(from close friends , to no-where- near-close friends), so you could easily check on them, sounds logical , but I am still a bit sceptical.
I mean do you actually confirm every Tope, Dike and Hassan that sends you a friend request? Ahh, I bet you do. Notes like “I just saw your pix men, I love what I saw and I think we’ll be very good friends…bla.bla.bla” hardly pass as motivation to click “confirm”. Initially, for me t’was just real friends, and then, I’d check if we had any mutual friends and who these mutual friends were before I confirmed. Then much later, the criteria was if I liked your profile picture and you looked like a potentially interesting person. (How I knew? You guessed right. I didn’t.)But when it seemed like I was the least sociable person, thanks to my ever stagnant network of friends, I confirmed virtually every body!
Now, I check my friends and see dozens of names I have no idea who, what, where…
Some try to get friendly and chatty. It flows sometimes. Other times, it’s just not “werking”. The one that could be annoying is when you have someone literally bugging you.
A friend of mine is a case study. She had this guy stalking her, you might say. He’ll poke her, send speed date posts, invite her to all sorts of applications, post tons of comments on her status and every picture, and write on her wall. I mean this person was actually in every nook and cranny of her profile. At first, she ignored this “stranger” (Remember, she confirmed him) and then later, she decided to respond. Just a few comments, here and there. She never checked his profile. After it seemed like it was finally “werking”, she decided to check his profile. The otondo had his date of birth, year inclusive, on his profile and my very good friend who was almost, if not already, lovey- dopey realised he was like, 8 years younger than she was. Alright, so you thinking, “So what?” Abeg, my friend is sooo due for marriage and an “about-to enter-school” boy certainly aint it.
Truth be told, how many of us can boast of having a maximum of, say, 10 “strangers” on our network? So these people are just names and pictures, occupying our space and having access to our profile and pictures. Talk about giving yourself high visibility and accessibility.
I am not even going to dwell on the security implication of this. I am just cool with the fact that once you get uncomfortable with a friend, you are free to kick him out of your network. As for the race to winning the “Facebook member with the highest number of friends” title, guys, I think I will take a rain check!
The argument of a friend that, apart from getting to hook up with your friends and maintaining that steady stream of info , Facebook provides you with a data base of people connected to you on several levels(from close friends , to no-where- near-close friends), so you could easily check on them, sounds logical , but I am still a bit sceptical.
I mean do you actually confirm every Tope, Dike and Hassan that sends you a friend request? Ahh, I bet you do. Notes like “I just saw your pix men, I love what I saw and I think we’ll be very good friends…bla.bla.bla” hardly pass as motivation to click “confirm”. Initially, for me t’was just real friends, and then, I’d check if we had any mutual friends and who these mutual friends were before I confirmed. Then much later, the criteria was if I liked your profile picture and you looked like a potentially interesting person. (How I knew? You guessed right. I didn’t.)But when it seemed like I was the least sociable person, thanks to my ever stagnant network of friends, I confirmed virtually every body!
Now, I check my friends and see dozens of names I have no idea who, what, where…
Some try to get friendly and chatty. It flows sometimes. Other times, it’s just not “werking”. The one that could be annoying is when you have someone literally bugging you.
A friend of mine is a case study. She had this guy stalking her, you might say. He’ll poke her, send speed date posts, invite her to all sorts of applications, post tons of comments on her status and every picture, and write on her wall. I mean this person was actually in every nook and cranny of her profile. At first, she ignored this “stranger” (Remember, she confirmed him) and then later, she decided to respond. Just a few comments, here and there. She never checked his profile. After it seemed like it was finally “werking”, she decided to check his profile. The otondo had his date of birth, year inclusive, on his profile and my very good friend who was almost, if not already, lovey- dopey realised he was like, 8 years younger than she was. Alright, so you thinking, “So what?” Abeg, my friend is sooo due for marriage and an “about-to enter-school” boy certainly aint it.
Truth be told, how many of us can boast of having a maximum of, say, 10 “strangers” on our network? So these people are just names and pictures, occupying our space and having access to our profile and pictures. Talk about giving yourself high visibility and accessibility.
I am not even going to dwell on the security implication of this. I am just cool with the fact that once you get uncomfortable with a friend, you are free to kick him out of your network. As for the race to winning the “Facebook member with the highest number of friends” title, guys, I think I will take a rain check!
"EARLY TO BED...REALLY"
My head hurts.
My stomach churns.
My eyes are heavy. Seriously.
I have dozens of stuff to do today. Not that I didn’t know that yesterday when I refused to part with the TV remote. Infact, I sat, bum glued to my seat, eyes never leaving the screen. Only when I had to use the bathroom, or needed to munch on something.
Just one more hour I kept telling myself. One more hour, before I go to bed. And then, it was morning already.
It is not going to be the first. I doubt t’will be the last either. Intentionally staying up late. Even with a potentially hectic day ahead.
As I sit on my bed, head in my hands, and bags under my eyes, I try to consider my itinerary for the day. Making a mental “things to do today” list.
Meeting up with my schedule seems near-impossible.
Ah, my head hurts.
My temples throb.
Even my throat is sore.
I will never make it through today. A half of me prods me to get up. The other half bids me to sleep on. “Just a little more and you’ll be fine.” the voice says.
I embrace the latter. No guilt, no grudges, no form of repentance, no promises to be better. “Early to bed, early to rise…”Did I really recite that poem in nursery?
My stomach churns.
My eyes are heavy. Seriously.
I have dozens of stuff to do today. Not that I didn’t know that yesterday when I refused to part with the TV remote. Infact, I sat, bum glued to my seat, eyes never leaving the screen. Only when I had to use the bathroom, or needed to munch on something.
Just one more hour I kept telling myself. One more hour, before I go to bed. And then, it was morning already.
It is not going to be the first. I doubt t’will be the last either. Intentionally staying up late. Even with a potentially hectic day ahead.
As I sit on my bed, head in my hands, and bags under my eyes, I try to consider my itinerary for the day. Making a mental “things to do today” list.
Meeting up with my schedule seems near-impossible.
Ah, my head hurts.
My temples throb.
Even my throat is sore.
I will never make it through today. A half of me prods me to get up. The other half bids me to sleep on. “Just a little more and you’ll be fine.” the voice says.
I embrace the latter. No guilt, no grudges, no form of repentance, no promises to be better. “Early to bed, early to rise…”Did I really recite that poem in nursery?
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