Wednesday, 30 April 2014


The other day someone critisized my writing, saying i should leave the country if i dint like it.
I love Nigeria with all my heart, we are rich people. We are rich in culture, style, taste, food, nature. I love Nigeria because true Nigerians are strong, talented, goal getters, achiever, doers.
But my dear adviser if i get a coloured passport even a lil different from the green i own, i will leave. For you see my dear, the Nigerian Dream is to survive.

Today my pain goes out to the missing girls, how can anyone in authority or power sleep, how can we continue to live like its nothing but a leaking tap. I dont get it o! My tears cannot be dried, till the children return home.
I dont see anyone getting away with 200tubers of yam without a death penalty laid upon him by the farmers. How did we get to this point. We have become such savages that we harm the veryones we claim to protect. We instill fear on the nation.

No my dear, this is not a country Lanre wants to stay in, it is not a country you should stay in.
How is it that we watch the news make side comments and continue our meal or whatever we are doing?
We have voices that we let only our walls hear, in matters like this, these walls hear but turn deaf.
We have so many questions who do we ask?

I am in such a state of confusion that i dont know what will happen next.
How were those kids moved, in sacks like garri or on a brt bus? How many people  moved these kids? Where are these kids that no one can hear them(i think of the chatter and screams of my lil cousins when they are in the house and cant imagine them in 200). Like i said the questions are endless. Am worried when my boyfriend lives the house in Lagos, am worried when my mother goes to the market in Kaduna, am worried when my sister goes to work in Abuja, am worried when my bestfriend lives the office to go home in Port Harcourt.
It could have been anyones kid, it could have been anyones sister or niece or cousin. Lets bring these girls home. Lend a voice till you are heard, breakdown deaf walls and let your voice travel to the ears of change, to the ears of action, to the weapons that will bring them back.
I dream of a Nigeria with a fair chance of survival.

The Hustle

All doled up in nice clothes, a pint of bold colour, moist coloured lips ready to part in a laugh but in a constant up curve. Perfect nails, just the right amount of fragrance, to leave a sweet remembrance, midheel matching shoes, to make a run if need be but really to be comfortable climbing up and down the flight of stairs or walk the long distance to the guy you seek.
Ready for whatever attitude comes up, armed with all the documents and answers, the bull is going down today, and the roast we must eat.
And even though all calls, messages and emails have been ignored or treated with one liners, the walk in is tall, the rehearsed annoyance at the tip of the tongue, to dish out firmly but softly with a stern smile.
The accounts are reconciled and yes you are right but no money yet, 'give me a call next week' he says as he stretch's into a more comfortable position in his chair. You thank him for the audience not the help cause you are no closer to what you went to achieve, he closes your file as soon as you go and another heap grows on it, no roast today('hunger, hunger' the screams in my head)the call next week will involve introductions of who you are and interogations on which invoice for which job, by which point am thinking if he has alzheimers how does he find his way to the office each day. Finally he recalls the facts then comes the story, someone who has the most important signature is either on leave or just resumed.
The unwritten rule is the more you are in their face, the closer you get to your money. If you have got a big trap, you have to set it right to catch the bull, if it backfires, your invoice gets chucked. The hustle continues insearch of common cattle or land birds just cause the hunger must be fed. 

Sunday, 6 April 2014

My Invitation into the Typical Lagos Saturday.....

My cousin is a typical lagos boy. I see him on saturday morning when he says he is off to a wedding and i dont see him again till very late that day or the next day. I ask him everytime, where do you go. Well today i got introduced to it.
We started with a young couples wedding, it was simple and drama filled. We shared a table with Ok bakasi and danced to songs played by a confused DJ. Yes it was fun, we ate very light(chinese rice and fish). The bride and groom jolly and inlove. Then dearest cousin whispered that he is going outside and to meet
him there in a few minutes.
There he said off to the next wedding. So we get here, am whoa, its biiiiig, its bold and its merry. I looked for the couple tire o, when i found them my eyeballs popped! They are way above 40! Am like, is this renewal of vows? This was totally different from the 1st, we had all sorts of food around, ewa agonyi, yam porride, ofada rice, small chops,  fish and chips, the regular jollof, fried rice n moimoi n chicken, all the mouths were moving in all directions. The drinks, that 1 i cannot begin to mention, they were all here. Coolers of food and drinks were going under tables o. Souvenirs moving up, right, left, centre and down. Music here was a band, and all the geles and caps were moving, bumbum's shaking, hands in the air, all ages rocking. Its about5.26pm at this time and dear cousin whispers we have a naming ceremony to go to. Am like when, and he says today. Not long after, a family friend came to announce that they have another event. When we get outside, we have drama from the local drummers, they sing and drum till money cones out, poor cousin had to drop money! The funniest part is  uncle's (cousin's popsy) driver was drunk mehn!!!! As in saying jargons, cant count drunk!!! So now, this is how, we move on to the next party. This party is calm, the older folks are outside. Us 'youngstars' settle in the sitting room with drinks, smallchops, rice, ps4 and gist.
And thats how the day ended, stuffed, tired and the hum of 'Aye' in my head.
Sent from my iPhone402CAA70-3F19-433D-B6B8-D18D2861CF1F4AB1ACEA-99C7-4C28-A0BD-991ECA7843D9

Monday, 17 March 2014

Lanre worries...

First time fuel hunter
I have been hearing about scarcity of fuel and the long standing queues. Thanks to my short distance i have been saved so far. Well today!!!!
If you know my country then you will know that our main source of electricity is generator hence hunger for petrol is multiplied.
We started looking for fuel for the generators, 2days ago, armed with money, jerican and a tip, we came back just as we left.
By yesterday, desperation for electricity kicked in, we loosened the fuel tank of the generator to take to the fuel station to buy the fuel.
Today, with my red blink, i went to queue at 6am.
1st of all, as a first timer i refused to believe the queue was so long, so i moved forward till reality hit, luckily, there was a bank infront and the poor fellow 'queuers' left space for easy access for the bankers, but JJC  Lanre used the opportunity to shunt the queue. Within seconds the danfo boys where ready to harrass, the lie came rolling out before i knew what was happening, i was telling them how my new born is home waiting for me with the help of passersby, i was allowed to stay on that queue.
Now that am on the queue, the real prayer starts, please let me buy fuel before it finishes, please let me buy fuel before it finishes. 2hours later, it is my turn to buy fuel and i ask the man, can i buy in jerican he says no, i give him the am ready to pay extra look and he completely ignores me. Then i try the blackmail tactic,'mister i have seen people go out of here with fuel in their jericans, dont tell me you dont sell in jericans'. He asked me to ask them how they got it, well that got me to shut up, fill my tank and move on.
I tell alot of people, i am not Nigerian. In my country we are fair. In my country we have basic needs of livelihood available at a price, yes but with ease. This country i live in though makes it had to be productive. All the sense of creativity goes into the fight to survive.
All the energy for labor we fight our neighbors for their lil bits.
In my country we struggle for success not survivalF6F0AAD3-BD24-4E7A-AAD2-7B3643CF635F

Friday, 7 March 2014

I can't see

I cant see,
I have been blinded,
I cant see,
I have been robbed of my sight,
I cant see,                              
I have been served with darkness.                              
I can hear though,
I can hear the last cries of the children before they die from the very metal that should protect them
I can hear the anger from the man who was just robbed of his last coins from the very man that should protect him
I can hear the fear in the voices of the young graduates posted to lands known for haram instead of halal
I can hear the anguish from the man that lost his wife and unborn child to the very place supposedly known for healing

I can feel too
I can feel the agony and pain of those whose families take a trip(by air/road) and end up in heaven
I can feel the depression of the aged who  have to fight for their retirement funds
I can feel the annoyance of the labourforce as their taxes has reduced their standard of living

I cant see,
The veil of bloodshed blinds me,
I cant see,
PHCN has robbed me of my sight,
I cant see,
All other means of replacing PHCN has kept me in darkness.

I cant speak
I have lost my voice from screaming
Is it the constant noise from the generators that stop you from hearing me?
I cant speak,
My saliva has gone dry
I cant speak
The fear of loosing my tongue

Though i am handicaped,
I feel the need to make a change
Me and 1000s more,
But what do we do,
Short of wiping out a certain generation of greed,
Short of singing the anthem of exile in one voice,
If this be the solution, then comes the question,
Might there be a seed planted in the generation of the new, that carries likness from the greedy?
What is the average Nigeria dream?
For without the dream, what are we moving towards.

Sent from my iPhone

Saturday, 7 December 2013

breath taking ' Art works' in Abuja,

stopping by a bazaar where i when to assist  a friend  in selling some goods.. there i came across varieties of art works which am going to share with u... i hope u tell me the ones you may like?

hand made laundry baskets

canvas/paint drawing.

hand made craft work

metalic artwork..(this represent a king and a queen in benin city of ' edo state'

old nigeria currency in coins...

cowries were the first currency spent in nigeria

this art work represent cultural dancers in the yorubaland

was amazes to see natural stones n different colors... they are mostly found in the norther part of nigeria.

my shadow also featured has an art work..

thats a wooden snake.. beautiful piece

colorful broom sticks
video video

Thursday, 5 December 2013

Lanre in Italy...

My Diary for Meenah on my trip to Italy.

So, as soon as I got the memo on my proposed trip to Italy I got excited about taking Menahz part on the blog. Am not as good a photographer as she is, but I hope to make it up with my story telling.
I don't want to bore you with the details of lousy Nigeria airport deeds in Lagos so let's go straight to me landing in Milano. The 1st slap of the cold was huge even though the statistics say it's not so cold yet, you will see how I cacked up o, and I still got slapped. The airport was beautiful. Everything we'll organized. We took a taxi to the hotel that morning and  got in fine.

The fun starts now, 1st you should know that it's a business trip with my boss so here goes. We check into our rooms, freshen up and set off. I carry a sling bag, wwbig enough to take my camera, wallet and key. Italians speak their language. That's all I can say about communication. Seriously, we think the Yorubas are proud, these people can't speak a language half the world speaks, like duuuuh. Anyway, we get a map from reception and we go to the trade fair ground at Rho Fierramilano. 

Here I was amazed sooo many times my eyes left my face. The coffee machines, the orange squeezers, the pizza makes, the ovens, the chefs. Meenah, there was everything kitchen, servery, bakery, thing anything, gas ranges, refrigerators, pasta cookers, dishwashers, the Guinness world record winners in hospitality were there. Meenah,literally we were on the teal carpet. We couldn't go round it all, it was toooooooooooooooo very much big(like my Italian friends will say). All the who is who in the in the hospitality industry was there. Just like a fashion show or like the mtv awards. Foods and sample gifts were given out. The best was to deal is at the fare cos they are ready to bring in as many people on their side as possible. All kinds of people, all sorts of colors, all gathered to find cooking and hospitality equipment at the best buy. It was truly an expose. I have grande pictures of the trade centre and some of the machines that wowed me, soooorry, was too stunned to take some. Then the fare closed at 6pm that evening.

Then my favorite part started, yeeeees, shopping. We went to the Milan centre and there they were, all of them, calling my name, laaaaanre, laaaaanre, come to me, am serious, the stores practically stretch out to you to walk into them, once you here the 1st call you cannot resist, you have to just fall in. In between my shopping am in the need for the ladies and guess what, when I go to the lady, to walk in, they ask for money and it's not 50cents, it's 1euro. Hello, when I go to shop rite to buy nothing I pay nothing (in Ikeja, Lagos), am here spraying my hard earned savings, and you are making me paaaay???? We'll that rake was for me and my head cos I paid man. On the upside, maybe that's how they get to keep their things in good condition.

Ok, so we go to an African restaurant, and I ate pounded yam and ogbono right there in the centre of Milan. It was nice, filling and homey. It's called king & queen. When you go, you should go there too. Will send you pictures of me, in there. O there I went to use the ladies again, (wondering me and toilets ba, just free this girl abeg) and it was the pit type. I haven't seen that in such a loong time. Seeing it there in Milan was nostalgic and no, I did not use, this toilet.
Oyya o, time to go back to the hotel, my dear, all train stations were closed, apparently there was a strike, and we had wondered too far from Sergate where our hotel was. By this time Amina, am sniffing, cold don enter my body. We had to take a taxi home o. It was sooo silly cos, we dint figure it out on time, we kept looking for an open gate into the train station cos we thought they were closed for security reasons and then finally someone said strike. Triple sad.
We got home fine, all we wanted was sleep.
On day 2, we had agreed on people we wanted to follow up with at the fare so,

after a huge breakfast with some of the best chocolate filled croissants ever,we took our map and headed for the bus. This day, we were ready for a lot of business. We did a lot of office work, boring, interesting and amazing stuff. Amina you won't believe how wild peoples minds have gone. If you see the industrial mixer, you can hide in it. Am serious. Anyway that's how work ended. Then we went back to shopping. O Meenah this time we went to Duomo. When I got off the train and stepped out, I just had to wow the moment. The church just stood there, birds, people, blue sky. Old, beautiful, strong, the architecture is A++. Ehen, then I wanted to shop, my dear, the shops there don't know my name o, they are the shops for the Adenuga, dangotes and co. So, I had no problem, looking away. But there was everything on there, you know, the whole, romance in Italy from the books and movies it's all real, flowers everywhere, people singing on the train and on the street. As we go along we find  interesting things, overly short dresses and beautiful colored hairs and piercings. But my favorite random one minute chance meeting is this person on the train. Like am thinking nice hair and jeans. A girl walks in with her dog on the train that is, and leans on the side of the persons seat, then the persons phone rang, when the person answered, you won't believe it, I almost fell off my chair, he had a guys voice. The girl leaning, had to bend over to check, we were really confused, great cheek bones, perfect eye brows, nice boots, I say, I was killing for the jeans, and it was a guy. Really, he had no boobs, but you know how guys keep long hair and wear skinny jeans, and cos it's cold they wrap scarves around and wear jackets, ? Well, that's how we took him for a girl. My boss had a good laugh.

And the next day we leave for pordenone. Ciao.