First born Egusi Pot of Soup

 

Delta State, Nigeria was founded on the 27^th of August 1991, however, the land mass within its geographical boundaries has existed since the world began. Human beings just gave it a name. All things existed before we were all born and will outlast us. Egusi cannot be created nor destroyed but can be transformed from one form to another; and this has been the case throughout the ages.

The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun.

Egusi soup is curated in 38 million pots in Nigeria daily and up till now my participation in this activity has been to eat. However, on the 14^th of March 2025 I took a giant leap into destiny and made my first pot of Egusi soup. I call that beautiful pot my first born.

Like all births, there was a conception that came before as the hands don’t act unless the mind has been impregnated. What happened was that I bought a small plastic bowl of egusi for £13 and it was only 65% full. It contained more pepper than resided in the whole of Cameroon and right then I made up my mind to start cooking my own branded Egusi soup.

Unfortunately, I had no clue about what to do next as eating a thing for decades will never give one the skill in producing it. (Consumers are well known to be useless in production).

 At this point I want to take a commercial break and big up all the women who have been cooking what we do not know how to cook for us in this Nigerian ecosystem. Una well done o!!!

So, I rang a friend who was a guru in kitchen matters  (my egusi mentor) and she went through the process in a step-by-step manner and I took notes. I told her I did not know if the shop I frequent in Birmingham sold Melon seeds or ground melon seeds. She warned me about ground melon as she has noticed sand in a brand she had bought before. So, I bounced to the store with my shopping list and discovered that the store had packs of melon seeds on display. I had walked past these products a hundred times in the past!

Back home I followed the recipe and made the soup. I decided to add some ‘anointing oyel’ in for blessing on my first fruit pot followed by overzealous palm oil additions. The soup ended up watery and oily. I snapped the final product – Eba and watery egusi – and posted it on the family group. The next day I looked into the pot and there was thick congealed crude oil wonderous supernatant on the top of the soup. I rang my egusi mentor and she told me to cook another pot without oil and mix both pots. I went for more Egusi and Ugu vegetables in the supermarket and started the process with boiling some chicken and crayfish. The aroma in the house was nice and I relaxed in my favourite chair ‘pressing phone’. The smoke alarm alerted me to the task at hand from which I had become distracted. I raced to the kitchen to salvage what remained of the burnt offering. Smoke everywhere! I started on another pot, cooked an oil-less egusi then merged the old school Friday Egusi with the new school Saturday egusi and by the time I finished I was exhausted. I packed up the soup in plastic bowls and put it in the freezer. A friend asked how it tasted and I said I was too tired to start making pounded yam.

So, this is how women suffer eh?! Shopping, cooking, child care, serving food, washing up plates and more child care. Then they will collapse on the bed at night and one man will approach their chest. Chai!! Ladies, don’t fight him. Just ring me and my thugs. We will bring the violence to him.

Epilogue

My first born Egusi pot of soup was born on the 14^th of March 2025, however, the Majestic Melon seed has existed since the world began. Babawilly just gave it a name: First born Egusi pot of soup. All things existed before we were all born and will outlast us. Egusi cannot be created nor destroyed but can be transformed from one form to another and taken from one kitchen to another. This has been the case throughout the ages.

 

Babawilly4President

 

Dr Wilson Orhiunu

Lagos City Marathon 2018 (13/2/2018)

 

Lagos City Marathon 2018

Written Feb 13 2018

 

 

 

Julie Andrews (Maria) sang in the popular musical, Sound of Music: “Let us start from the very beginning, a very good place to start”. So, we travel to 490 BC to see how it started.

There was war between the Greeks and the invading Persian armies. The Greeks won the battle of Marathon and Miltiades (Greek Army leader) sent word of the victory to the king via a runner Pheidippides. (Young readers might wonder why he didn’t send a text message. There were no phones then).

Poor (or patriotic) Pheidippides ran the distance at full speed to the palace and promptly died after delivering his very important message.

If he were Nigerian, Okada (boda-boda to the East Africans) would have been an optional means of transportation. During the course of the journey, he might have stopped for “fuel” at a roadside restaurant called mama put for pounded yam and pure water. Between swallows, he would have muttered, “I cannot come and die for government work” (A man should not die working for the government).

If it had been in my village that Pheidippides had died, the elders would have called a meeting to decide that all indigenes be forbidden to run that kind of distance. Europe, however, is not Africa. 42.2 Km is the distance we will be running; so, help us God.

Why Lagos?

I have run the London Marathon thrice and the New York Marathon once, so I felt like doing one at home.

Cities tend to have their marathon routes go past historical landmarks that stir the soul. For me the most iconic structures in Lagos are the Tafawa Balewa and Tinubu squares and the National Theatre.

These buildings were not on the route. The other iconic site that holds a lot of memories for me is the National Stadium Surulere. This was where the Lagos City Marathon starts. This was where we went to in the seventies to celebrate the Children’s Day. All we did was look at the girls who attended.

The floodlights looked so massive to me when the stadium was first built in time for the Second All African Games. There is nothing like visiting a brand-new stadium. You just never forget the experience. It was those childhood memories that made me love the starting point. Across the road from the National Stadium is the Teslim Balogun Stadium which is built on the site of the previous UAC Sports Complex. This was where we played our football matches in the then Principal’s Cup fixtures. My secondary School St Finbarr’s College had an excellent football team which included stars like the late Stephen Keshi who incidentally has a larger-than-life mural painted of him under the fly-over bridge in front of the National Stadium.

I had arrived to Lagos via Dubai on 6-02-18 and it was a relaxed affair on a quality aircraft but the legs had become swollen after being in the air for 15 hours.

7-02-18 I went on a run to stretch the legs. Did about 10 km and was happy with how I coped in the heat. Next it was off to Teslim Balogun to collect my Race Number 17839 and my running kit. I must add that registration was free and so was the running vest all thanks to Access Bank who kindly sponsored the event.

I did an interview for Kwese TV during which I was asked why I was running the marathon among other things.

8-02-2018

Today was our tourist outing. I went out with my daughter to the National Stadium Iganmu, Tinubu Square Lagos where I found the statue of Kokoro –the blind drummer fascinating. Then we went to Tafawa Balewa Square built on the site of the old Race Course in 1972.

We then went out to chill at Sappers Waterfront Lounge in Bonny Camp, Victoria Island which was to be the venue of the post marathon race get together. My family all came and we hung out till late.

9-02-2018

I went to record an interview with BBC Pidgin Nigeria at their Lagos Island office which went quite well. It was well received when the clip was published on social media a few hours later. I spent some time sending out links to my Go Fund Me page and also sending my Nigerian bank account number to those who requested it.

I am raising money for the Home of God’s Grace Orphanage in Ikorodu and all monies raised goes to them. I bear the cost of go Fund Me administration fees and fees for transferring money from UK to Nigeria. I did this so that if someone gives say £20, they see that £20 goes to the Orphanage. (But if person give me £1 Million, I no go pay any transfer fee sha).

By now the prayers for rain intensified for I knew I couldn’t do 26.2 Milles in the full Lagos sunshine

10-02-2018

The lightning and thunder started about 2am. I couldn’t go back to sleep. My pre marathon routine started at 4.30am with a bath followed by using up a small tub of Vaseline on all body parts that rub against each other.

Next the nipples are protected with plasters and I am dressed and ready. Two phones, my iPod and my small canon camera for when the phone battery dies.

I am at the starting point by 6 o’ clock and it starts to rain. It didn’t last long and we were off at 6.30am.

That there was adequate water throughout the course. I must have used 15 bottles with a lot of it poured on my head. Being Lagos, things must happen. On the Third Mainland Bridge, I found a guy running next to me wearing Fila and Agbada. I took a few steps away. A few took their shoes off and hand barefooted. One guy changed to his roller skates and zoomed past everyone. Others hailed Okada. It was obvious many had not trained and there were a large number of buses ferrying people to the finish line. We ran along Alfred Rewane where John Iwelumo was waiting to cheer me on (very kind of him).

Lekki Bridge was cool for we knew the end was not too far away. The Babawilly Supporters Team headed by Enate Ogedegbe was there to offer support on Admiralty Way. It was nice seeing some of the street children we raise money to support. They all had their Team Babawilly T-shirts on.

By the time I crossed the 40 Km mark the road appeared to be growing longer. I ran and walked the longest 2 Km of my life.

They had run out of medals at the finish line so I “loaned” a medal from one of the young lads so I could take my pictures.

10-02-2018 4pm

Arrived in a taxi at Sappers Waterfront Lounge to meet my daughter and mum. Had a shower and soon the other guested started arriving for our meal.

It was a marvellous time by the Lagoon chatting up with friends including Olumide Iyanda who I had never met in the flesh before

11-02-18 7.30am

All the rain that the God Lord kept back for us during the marathon fell down. Ogheneovo Emore looked after us well with a lunch fit for a king

12-02-18. 2pm

Went to Teslim Balogun Stadium and collected my medal.

All in all, it was a most marvellous experience

Dr Wilson Orhiunu

Babawilly

Public Displays of Affection

Public displays of affection

Some players score goals, run to the fans and kiss the club badge on their shirts. Others just trash around on the floor with joy. The badge kissers are not more loyal to the club than the badge kissers who just want to be seen to be displaying affection. However, when a better deal comes, the badge kissers are off to greener astro tufts.

Some couples are players. Not satisfied to score and celebrate at home, they run outside in jubilation talking selfies for the world to see and share in their joy. That also is good. Public displays of love keep the social media world rotating, but these ‘notice me’ activities cannot be taken as proof of loyalty. Many have a get out clause written into their contracts.

Kodak moments can strike at unpredictable moments. A lady sees fluff on her man’s hair and is instinctively drawn to it. To observers she appears as a dotting lover picking off specks and fluff from her lover’s hair. A photograph of the intimate moment goes viral and the couple are stars. Kodak moments like Halley’s comets come rarely and people just cannot wait for their turn. Everyone wants to be a star, thus the mass production of Kodak moments. The problem of orchestrating a spectacular natural moment is that it is impossible to create, except on a big Hollywood budget. That is why the best photographs of couples displaying affection are those of actors and actresses on the set of a movie. They are able to sit around on the beach with a make- up, lighting and camera crew till the sunset is just right.  The aura of romance conjured up sticks to the minds of those prone to fantasy and they make it a life’s mission to re-create the unattainable.

Couples are what they are. What is this need to openly display the inner workings of a relationship to the world? Reality TV stars do it professionally and I cannot fault their hustle. They pay taxes and create employment for many. When ‘ordinary folk’ copy them however it doesn’t quite hang well.

Perhaps some fear that if they do not show how much fun their relationships are, others might think they own shares in a dull union. So, in other to dispel any such notions, they keep their friends updated which incidents of excitement that have occurred to them. Every gift is photographed and circulated on social media and every meal prepared receives the same treatment. We live in the information age afterall. I for one like to look at these pictures once in a while. We all do and it is much cheaper than buying glossy magazines. You pick up fashion tips, holiday ideas and things to get jealous about. However, these pictorial displays of the good life and romance stirs up something sinister in some; leading to what one could call a social media love competition.

One couple strikes a pose, and another couple strike back like a Star wars movie. Romantic plagiarism is rife on social media.  One bloke calls his lady a Queen and suddenly everybody is married to royalty. Luckily for us all these royals only come out to shine twice a year; on birthdays and wedding anniversaries. Personally, I love the royals but prefer the ones from Buckingham Palace. People should be who they are and not call their loved ones trending names. If you have always called him Apku-belle at home, don’t come out in public with honey or sugar. Playing to the gallery with terms of endearment always sounds badly manufactured (Is Aba made politically correct?). If you must name your lady after a food, be truthful. I see nothing wrong in calling her ‘Bitter kola-nut’ if that is how you feel. Why lie with false names like, ‘baby-girl, bunny, kitten, recharge card, BVN, honey-pie’ and then we are rang to settle your fights by 1am. If the real heartfelt name was mentioned on Facebook in reference to the spouse, such as ‘Yam head’, we would have asked what was wrong and gathered to settle the quarrel at a more convenient hour.

Diamond League Babawilly @ 60

 

I find myself at 60 years of age and so have my observers. The congratulatory messages have flooded in and I am most grateful to see this day. At the 100^th time of hearing ‘Happy Diamond anniversary’’ the worms in my belle began to totori mi. I was triggered. The film and music worms went into epileptic seizures. The biblical ones sang out. ‘Arise and shine! For thy light is come! Isaiah 60. The musical helminths sang out ‘Shine bright like a diamond!’ Rihhanna. And the movie worms sang loud. ‘Diamonds are for ever’ Aunty Shirley Bassey.

Diamonds are quite expense , so I have decided that I am valuable at 60.

A few have sent their sympathies as they expect everything to go down hill from here. Muscle bulk and strength, bone density, ozzaaroom vitality, cognitive function and cardiovascular fitness have been predicted by some to deteriorate like the Naira against the dollar. (Dollar representing those in their 20s-30s).

Na lie o!

A Diamond at 60 id a Diamond forever.

Things will only get better now that I have achieved Diamond status having had all the ‘nansense’ cut out of me by the expert diamond cutter; God almighty. All that is left is sheer quality.

Muscle bulk and strength, bone density, ozzaaroom vitality, cognitive function and cardiovascular fitness are about to soar through the roof.

Apostle says Rebekah gave birth to Jacob and Esua and the Producer Director amd lead man in this movie was the award winning 60 year old Isaac. So I am inspired, and everyone has to accept that I did not come to the sixth floor to play.

Let us all remind ourselves what the Diamond league is all all about: The Diamond League is an annual series of elite track and field competitions. Established in 2010 by World Athletics, it features some of the best athletes from around the world competing in various events across multiple meetings. Each season culminates in a final where athletes can earn points based on their performance, with top competitors in each discipline competing for the coveted Diamond Trophy.

DT is my portion. We did not come to play on the sixth floor

 

Beautiful like diamonds in the sky

 

Thanks to my parents for making it position

Thanks to friends who tried to make it impossible but used them to make me stronger

Thanks to friends who love and sustain me

Thanks to family

God bless all my children

Finally Glory Be To God who was there before it all started

The Citizen Grumbles

Yeye, everything yeye.

I work, I die, ehen? Wetin touch mai hand? NCNC and Action Group come, NPN and UPN go, followed by soja man wey come and return with change of clothes. Dey come dey go but the Earth remains. Sun go up, beat us well then go down, just laik dat. Harmattan come dey blow and e return go im papa haus. Niger drink Benue and Atlantic drink Niger, but Atlantic no belleful.  Atlantic no overflow. E taya persin to dey look.   Just laik pendulum of clock, right, left, dey swing dey go. Yeye.

I look, hear, mai head full. Wetin reign bifor dey come back. Wetin dem do bifor, dem go do again. No new thing for dis place, for dis land wey sun wan roast mai head finis.

E get di dance wey yu fit say, ‘look o! new dance?’

Na today? E don tey wey e dey; bifor dem born us. Pipo wey die don go, no bodi remember dem. Di ones wey dey Naira note, no bodi dey read dia name. Na to just pay moni and make sure say change complete. Who dey read moni?

Old people plus pickins dem, as well as those wey dia mama carry for belle; all go dey forgotten.

As a sharp Naija man wey dey run things, I re-shine mai eyes. I look am and think am well. I come scope everything wey dey happun under dis Naija skies. Chai! I see say na sack of garri papa God don put for pipo head to dey carry everywhere. But dem no go ever chop di garri. One big man dey store di garri wey e tief from dia head. Im sef no go chop di garri. He go build big haus with big gates to hide di garri inside but he no go fit chop am.  Na to dey sweat and suffer dey look di garri be im work. Poor man neck na to carry di carry wey he no go taste.  I see di suffer under sun; all na yeye and bad belle. All na attempt to pursue wetin persin no fit catch. To dey pursue breeze with fishing net.

A bended tree cannot be straightened. If yu try straighten am, e go welenga. Osteotomy no dey inside dis one. Di number of things wey bad, plus di moni wey loss dey too many for di accountant to count.

I do conference with maisef laik persin wey craze. I dey discuss with mai shadow come conclude dis matter. I get sense well well. I hammer from birth. I study all di craze men for street and for government haus, I study all di born fools for prison yard and for universities. I come see say me sef no get work. I see say I wan catch oxygen molecules with trap wey I dey tek catch bush meat. I wan catch breeze with chains. All di study na yeye. Too much know know sake of say mek knowledge plenti dey run belle. Sabi sabi , na only tears e dey bring. Dats all

 

(Loosely Based on Ecclesiastes 1)

Babawilly

Dr Wilson Orhiunu

9-4-2014

WHO???

 

Who speaks

Words from another dimension

There is silence yet we hear

Who moves there

Who pulls us back

 

 

 

Invisible vocal cords tie up destiny

The exodus is on but no one is moving

Stuck in a place

A place that moves backwards

 

 

 

Who is the puppet master

Who pulls strings of pain

The mind travels

The body is stranded by an evil anchor

 

 

 

 

How do we break free

In orbit around a cursed centre

Someone must be in charge of this rottenness.

Too organised to be pure chance

 

 

 

 

Dreams were nice to recount

Now million dreams cramp the runway

No flight No dreams come true

Are we going to die  motionless with fastened seat belts?

 

 

We drank that rocket fuel

We lit a match

The planning is over

Lift off! Anywhere but here

 

 

 

 

28/02/2024

 

 

Babawilly

 

 

Money talks ; Poverty explodes

 One could hide one’s wealth with a bit of thought but to conceal one’s poverty is almost impossible. The wealthy adopting to live a humble life is betrayed by his prompt decisions when faced with a sudden crisis. Like a serpent that bites without provocation he might say, “don’t cry we will buy another one”.  The poor when faced with a crisis have no such reserves to fall back on. They cry and lament their state.

Many children are faced with poverty – the type that creeps in silently like the tide on the coast line and drowns its victims. The tide is an invading army that maintains a line of attack. So is poverty.  Gregarious by nature, it lines up on either side with disease, violence, illiteracy, malnutrition, confusion, low expectation and a miscellaneous host of mercenaries too numerous to mention. It attacks like an occupying force with no plans of ever leaving. Once the victim is overcome in defeat, poverty sinks in.

It takes a whole village to impoverish a child – the global and local villages that is. Poverty is like an emperor that just sits and rules things. He needs all the help he can get.  In a village setting, once the leaders divert resources to themselves and their cronies with nothing left for communal programmes, poverty wins.  The leaders get used to their lifestyle and the commoners in penury get used to their fate.

Poverty makes people crazy. Drives them into frenzy and transforms their lives into a bomb site. No one is responsible for their actions in the vicinity of a bomb that has just been detonated. The air is filled with panic, anguish and smoke while escape is the one and only thing on the agenda, and that by any means possible. Stopping people fleeing from such explosions to ask for directions will not work. They will end your life via a stampede. Intelligence is lost and those in ultra-hasty escape can run into an oncoming train in the name of desperately seeking safety. But who can blame them when they have experienced the deafening destructive force of poverty? Those not killed instantly survive only to live in fear of its return. Poverty is an unforgiving relentless demon.

My middle class friends always tell me how rich Nigeria is. They fly from England and are picked up from the airport in air-conditioned cars. As soon as the plane touches down, they are switching sim cards and making calls. After disembarking they have only one thing on their minds, their luggage. They look not to the left or the right. In their cars, it is catch-up time as they chat away oblivious to the thousands they drive past trekking the streets and living on $4 a day. They soon find themselves at the gates of the house where they would be staying and use the small estate as some kind of economic indicator of the wealth of the nation. Of course the privileged live well but Nigeria is a poor country. A painful kind of poor for it makes an income but very few live a millionaire lifestyle.

I believe that everyone in a civilised society should live a millionaire lifestyle.  Put simply, if you drive on roads that cost millions then you are a partaker of the millionaire lifestyle. If a multi-million pound health service is at your disposal, if your street has houses that run into millions, if your water supply, policing bill all run into millions, then you are living the lifestyle.

If hypothetically a town has one billion pounds and the chiefs embezzle the money and create five millionaires, the town remains poor. But should the money be invested in roads and schools, then everyone who uses the roads or schools, for the time they are on the roads or in school is experiencing a million pound amenity for themselves. Money actually goes a long way when many people enjoy what it buys.

Poverty robs people of the ability to think. Education is a way out of the ignorance that poverty brings but thinking is involved. How can a young lad with Plasmodium swimming in his blood stream and nothing in his stomach think? Homework will never get done if he has to go home and hawk his wares after school to make ends meet.  Living in a ghetto where violence is ever present means the focus will have to be on self-survival and not inquisitiveness or academic excellence.

Every single person in Africa who faces poor roads, poor governance and poor security suffers despite their bank balance. They are also united in their belief that there is only one cause of poverty in a place where natural resources abound. That is bad government. One does not need to be told. Looking at the actions of Africans tells you they believe. Those with a spoon in the pie stay put to maintain their position at the table but everything else is done abroad. Health, education of kids, having babies, having a ‘small rest’ and safe keeping of money. Those on the other hand without a spoon in the pie want to leave the poverty explosion to countries where they think poverty does not explode and kill. That explains the lengths economic refugees take to escape such as boat pushed out into the Atlantic hoping to reach Europe (where the roads all cost millions of pounds), walking across the Sahara desert and hoping to cross the Mediterranean at night, the list is endless.

The government and its people have no trust in African institutions of health, education, security or social justice. So everyone flees. The top government officers and politicians flee with their cash to hide just in case the next government probes them and makes them poor, while the poor populace flee away from their poverty. Everybody is fleeing the explosion.

It is ironic that the stolen cash and the deprived populace always head in one direction!