The Gangsters & Lovers

1

The Gangster and his horned love

Spread beef from west to east

They stroll in ancient strides

They are both beauties and both beasts

2

Born a pretty golden calf

Her leather to the gangster is silk

Now a full grown dame on all fours

She flashes many breasts for sweet milk

3

Gangster loves his lady’s slim tail

Fell in love on an animal farm

As they roam the fine country

They spread jungle laws and evil harm

4

Moonlight walks singing sweetly

They stop for a bite at the local plantation

Eat up drink up and shoot up the locals

Pack the guns and leave the commotion

5

Cowboy movies come to life

We enjoyed those bygone Spaghetti Westerns

But what we now have cuts like a knife

Vicious Tuo Shinkafa Northerns

 6

The lady and her gangster

Daily in search of dinner

She wears her ugly perfume

He straps what makes him the killer

7

They tip the waiters well

Stomach full of bullets; tipped into a grave

The Police all flee the crime scene

The army did not hear so cannot save

8

Next comes the funeral processions

Black fabrics and swaying leaves

Halleluyah Joy we shall meet on that day

Then we pray, all on their knees

9

Why love what seems to kill us

For after murders by cows and their lovers

The beef has no enemies

We serve beef to all the mourners

10

Most gangsters guard their wares

With guns that cost much less

But here the case is different

Makes no sense but buy AKs nevertheless

 11

The gangster knows you are all addicted

You will buy no matter the human cost

Beef on a pedestal higher than humanity

Shaki ponmon just buy and ignore the mini holocaust

12

The gangster is a pimp

He sells his lover at the right price

Then goes to recruit another herd

For meat goes well with jollof rice

Babawilly

Dr Wilson Orhiunu

16/01/2018

She no sabi cook

She No Sabi Cook

Babawilly tak say...


We all have our talents
Rare gifts, peculiar traits
And judging from her many kids
She has talented ovaries
Yet come the kitchen-matics
Her sums just don’t add up
She started off baking a cake
And ended up with bread
That babe no sabi cook
It’s true just cannot cook
Town crier warn the neighbourhood
That lady just can’t cook



I found out just last Christmas
When invited out for lunch
While everyone was saying grace
I opened up my eyes
I saw the little fish
Kissing the giant shrimp
The fish said to his lover
We will continue in his stomach
That babe no sabi cook
It’s true just cannot cook
Town crier warn the neighbourhood
That lady just can’t cook



I didn’t learn my lesson
Went there for easter lunch
She served one kain egusi soup
that looked like oil spill
Palm oil floats above
submerged vegetables
Was on the loo all night,
and in the morning saw my doctor
That babe no sabi cook
It’s true just cannot cook
Town crier warn the neighbourhood
That lady just can’t cook

I am here to watch the football
Upon their giant screen
he told her ‘cook something spicy
we will eat come the half time’.
she brought a mountain in
I said 'thanks for the Tuo'
She snapped ‘don’t mention Mr Neighbour
but this is Jollof rice’
That babe no sabi cook
It’s true just cannot cook
Town crier warn the neighbourhood
That lady just can’t cook.

Return match was at mine
My babe cooked for half time
Smooth pounded yam, ogbono soup
with fish and chicken thighs
My neighbour licked his plate clean
then begged for second round
I told him food was finished and he
should eat when he gets home
That babe no sabi cook
It’s true just cannot cook
Town crier warn the neighbourhood
That lady just can’t cook

He looked at me with bad eye
as if it was my fault
he fell in love with alchemist
parading as a chef.
His phone went off so sudden
His dinner was now served
He walked with Africa on his head
as he moved towards his poison
That babe no sabi cook
It’s true just cannot cook
Town crier warn the neighbourhood
That lady just can’t cook.



Dr Wilson Orhiunu

August 2008

Ideas

The source and course of the River Niger was a mystery in Europe for many years.  Many explorers died in the quest to map out its course.  One such was Mungo Park who saw the River Niger in 1796 and wrote about it in his book Travels in the interior of Africa 1799.  He returned to the Niger for a second time and died in present day Kwara State.

Human beings have a strong desire to know where things flow from as knowledge is power.  Those not blessed with the risk-taking curiosity that could potentially kill are happy to live on the river banks and explain away things they have no knowledge of with imaginative assumptions and superstitions.  The Europeans knew that inland waterways could open up opportunities for future trade while the locals were happy to fish and worship river goddesses who placed no demands on worshipers to build boats and travel the whole length of the rivers.  Why engage in speculative travel when curiosity can be assuaged with colourful myths?  Thought the West Africans then.

It appears that since the world began, if a people sat still long enough, some other people on the move are bound to travel to them.  Travellers usually come bearing gifts and asking flattering questions that stimulate boastful answers.  Notes are taken and the guest bids the hosts farewell only to return with an invading army.

So, where do ideas come from?  What makes some people build progressively bigger ships and develop navigational skills?  What makes them set sail despite the numerous cases of people being ‘lost at sea?’  Why do others have, ‘let sleeping dogs lie’ as an ideology.  No risky ventures, no experimentation, no hypothesis formulated to be disapproved or validated.

The source of ideas might be harder to explain than the source of the River Niger it seems.  I have watched so many interviews of people who have achieved great success in their creative fields.  The question of the inspiration behind a work of art always arises.  The answers are always impossible to decipher.  Many say they are inspired by what they see around them every day.  Now, if what we all see around us is the fountain of ideas and inspiration, how come everybody is not bringing great ideas to past?

The same event in the neighbourhood inspires people differently.  A man down the street has a windfall and buys a new car and throws a party for friends which has all the neighbours talking.  One teenager at No. 6 who offers to wash the new car loved it so much he resolves in his heart to work hard and buy that kind of car as soon as he can afford it.  House No. 8 has a guy who knows a lot about the movements of the guy with the new car and the love he has for his daughter so

decides to get his friends to organise a kidnap of the daughter for a ransom.  These are ideas forming in the minds of people based on what they have seen around them.  Even among the positive people, the kind of ideas people have from the same inspiration varies.  A beautiful girl walks by and the painter reaches for his brush, the tailor grabs his pen and paper and starts to sketch dresses, the sculptor reaches for his marble, the poet babbles creatively, the vocalist pours forth a love song and the love-struck designs and builds a Taj Mahal.

 The door-bell to our minds constantly rings as different influences seek to gain entrance and gives us ideas.  What really matters for an individual is what he has been taught and how he has been conditioned from birth.  Family, friends, neighbours, culture, society, faith, willingness to endure hardship years before any material gain is seen, education and mentorship all play a role in how ideas are received, analysed and worked on.

One of the things people waste in life are good ideas.  A life of wasted ideas is exemplified by seeing more and more examples of people succeeding today using ideas you had thought about twenty years previously and had not acted upon.

If only we reacted to the ideas that come into our heads with the same zeal as we react to those physiological urges that cannot be ignored.  No matter the coldness of the night and the cosy warmth of the blankets, a full bladder enforces the idea of a trip to the toilet on us.  Hunger, thirst, sexual urges are all physiological states producing all kinds of ideas that produce actions.  I have never heard of anybody ignoring the peristaltic ideas generated by diarrhoea.

Never waste an idea

      Write down every idea that comes to mind in your idea journal

      Expect to have ideas come to you and always have writing materials to hand

      Research the ideas you have

      Start to entertain yourself in the areas where your ideas lie. Watch documentaries and films themed on the particular subject of your ideas

      Learn to act on your ideas and start small.  Celebrate the successes and learn from the failures

      Describe yourself as a creative person full of new ideas.  Write it down next to a picture of yourself.

      Ideas have to be good for others to make it worthwhile.  Seek to harm no one

Talent dey waste

Talent Dey Waste

Some clever people do not believe that talent even exits.  They say all things are possible to everyone who puts their hearts to it.  These clever people have obviously not watched Messi on the soccer pitch.  Training and determination can only take one so far.

Most people would agree that there are domains in which they seem to excel in with relatively little effort.  They get great returns on their investment of time in training and may even develop competence without training.

I have wondered if every single human being has a gift in them; an ability that sets them apart from others.  Do all people have a unique aptitude for the acquisition of high levels of skill in a particular field that differentiates them from their fellow men?

The title of this article demonstrates my bias.  I believe that most people are gifted in something but the development of their talents may not happen.

In the kingdom of animals where only the strong survive, the talents each species has must be expressed to the full to avoid untimely death.  The cheetah either runs after prey at great speed or starves.  Unlike humans who need to be discovered before they feel validated as talented individuals, the cheetah hits the ground running.  Animals do not have crazy parents creating home environments not conducive for the growth of human potential neither do they have governments that do not provide that much needed high quality education essential for young minds.

Animals don’t lack self-esteem or get denied of opportunity for growth.  Daddy Cheetah does not catch the prey and spend it on his side chick and neither does he barter the prey for booze.  He eats and shares the food with the family.  After a few hundred meals, the lesson is etched in the memory of baby cheetah.

The animal just exits as itself irrespective of who is watching and who is ‘discovering’.

But humans are too clever.  They need to be discovered to believe they are talented. And when an authority figure tells them they lack talent they stop trying.  The authority figure might be wrong but it does not matter.  They have the power to create a reality in the young minds.

There are other indirect ways to tell the young ones that there are no indicators of future promise in their tender lives.  Make no provision for their quality instructions and offer no opportunities for their training and they soon get the message.  A spirit of self-blindness to abilities soon evolves and then we can truly say talent dey waste.

The word talent is derived from the Latin word Talentum which is a weight of money. One could view talent as what buys you skills when you travel to the skill shop on the rail coach of training.  No one can break into the shop and steal skill.  It must be acquired.

According to UNICEF, 40% of children between 6 to11 years old do not attend primary school.  Since education exposes kids to the various options available to them to apply their talents to, being at home serves them not.  

Growing up without reading or writing skills means if these kids do not have physical attributes for sports, they are destined for a mediocre life.  According to the UN, 8.73 million elementary school aged children did not participate in education at all making Nigeria the country with the highest number of out-of-school children in the world.

The known determinants of success and high performance usually do not reside in the poor homes where majority of the kids excluded from education come from. However, in these same poor homes might be children supremely gifted with the traits required to achieve world class status in science, sports or medicine. Failure to harness this huge human potential means that the future generations have been robbed of individuals capable of taking the country to the next level.

When leadership is not concerned about what will happen in thirty years, there is a problem for the babies born today.  One should expect that all babies born today in Nigeria would have graduated from school in thirty years and be in a job that they report to daily in a car driven from their house on good roads to the office.

It would be a shame to expect the babies born today to all be at home scratching their groins and smelling their fingers in thirty years when their counterparts in other parts of the world are going to work in driverless cars.

 Reversing the Tide

A parent who did not achieve their potentials may shout their kids down when lofty ambitions are mentioned.  Parents and even teachers might want to shield the young one from future disappointments.  In the animal kingdom that does not exist.  A cobra grows up biting like a cobra.  There are so many things one can learn from the animal kingdom.

If no one teaches you that your natural instincts are unattainable you will not put the brakes on your experimentations.

Proverbs 6

⁶ Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise:

⁷ Which having no guide, overseer, or ruler,

⁸ Provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest.

It is possible to go on natural instinct and be successful.  The absence of a guide or overseer does not stop the ant from consistently hustling.  And even if one tried to discourage the ant, it has no capacity for de-motivation or depression.

The ant is just who he is.  Like that Diamond in the ground that is sure in its identity even if it isn’t discovered, so must men be. Even if parents, teachers, government do not recognise potential, we must trust instincts that lie within to push us to challenge the expectations placed in our talents.

You don’t need to win a talent contest to know you have something special, you just need to be yourself. The Cobra bites without enchantment and if you doubted its talent for killing in the past, one venomous bite makes a believer out of you. Human beings must strive to be fully formed in spite of the absence of encouragement.  Even the celebrated stars need to work every God sent hour to produce their next big thing, so how much more the rest of us.

The Letter (From a Nigerian Rat) 2000

The Letter One dusty harmattan morning when the good Lord's North east trade winds brought cracked lips to the masses, wondrous grey hairs to the children and crocodile skin to the legs of those not insured with a 'Vaseline policy' or perhaps a 'palm oil policy' (as all fingers are not equal), lightening struck.It was no ordinary strike. It was stamped and addressed to the Skido household and measured very high on the 'Gbosa' scale. Sir Skido's life changed unrecognisably. His car, bed, shoe, and eating habits changed. His dreams changed also. No more did he see the landlord evicting his family into the streets as the crowds jeered and the heavens opened up like a new book in the hands of a bookworm. He now slept seeing himself contesting for the Local government chairman's seat and making witty speeches at exclusive gatherings with microphones bearing the logos' of NTA, CNN, MINAJ, and AIT clustered beneath his chin. Such is the power of the lightening strike they call sudden wealth. No one dared to inquire about the source of this newly found wealth (at least not in public), for such questions are deemed rude in Lagos almost akin to asking the Oba how many children he had or asking a society woman her age. The harmattan was yet to engage top gear when the unthinkable happened. Lightening struck twice. The 'Gbosa meter' exploded and Sir Skido decided to move out of the his Ajegunle neighbourhood. "How can a man of my class continue to live in this jungle city?" Sir Skido asked his friends over drinks. As he was paying, his friends controlled their anger at Sir Skido's newly found "class" and smiled heartily through clenched teeth while they cursed him in their heart of hearts. On his last day in Ajegunle, the large crowd that had gathered to help with the move were shocked to see a tiny pick-up truck parked outside the Skido family home and what more, the Skidos' were not properly dressed for the hard task of moving. Sir Skido knew what they were all thinking but decided to play games with them. He served drinks and "small chop" of groundnuts and chin-chin and chatted nostalgically of his years in the area. Many shed a few tears. "Don't cry for me Ajegunle" pleaded Sir Skido. "For I go only across Lagos to my small house in Victoria Island. It's not as if I am going to die and go to heaven". "Or hell" shouted someone in the crowd causing roars of laughter. Sir Skido pretended not to hear. "For some of us, heaven is nearer than Victoria Island. We may never see you again" said an old man causing a murmur to sweep through the crowd as folks marveled at this nugget of 'suffer man' wisdom. Soon it was time. Sir Skido announced that as God had so buttered his bread he would not need any of his old property as his new place was fully furnished. "All I need you Alaye boys to do is load my three seater settee onto the pick-up trunk. Then I will go in and fetch my City and Guilds electricians' certificate and you people can have whatsoever you wish". The air was thick with excitement and everyone braced themselves for what latter became referred to as the "harmattan rush". At this point Sir Skido's wife butt in, "that rotten settee is going nowhere. Ah-ah, what will the new neighbours think? You wan de-shine me bicos of ye-ye sentimental value? I no gree". Sir Skido was hurt. How dare this wife of a woman belittle him in public he thought. He lost his temper and pushed his wife aside then helped the Alaye boys with the settee. He then gathered his children out of the way and declared in jest "let the property massacre begin!" What happened next surprised all including the participants. People rushed madly for the door all at once and got stuck. Alaye boys quick and nimble jumped in through the window. Vicious punches and elbows were freely dispersed and blood flooded freely. Some came out breathing heavily clutching radio sets, shirts, and children's clothes, cooking utensils and even bars of soap. One group of elders too old and wise to struggle poked fun at the rat race called life. Suddenly the one they called chronic bachelor burst out of a window with his T-shirt completely in tatters holding his spoils of war high above his head. "What good are two ladies scarves to an unemployed with neither wife nor girlfreind?" the elders teased. "I go sell am Tokunbo for market" came the reply. Sir Skido saw friendly neighbours who had known each other for many years shove each other out of the way and muttered to himself "there is no friend or brother in property. First thing Monday morning I must write my will". All this was months ago. Today has brought new problems for Sir skido in his new house. His settee had come back to haunt him and his wife, true to type taunted him thus, "I told you not to bring the rotten settee but you just had to be "the man" in front of your friends. Shame Skido. Shame on you!" Saying that she marched into her jeep and went shopping. Despite the central air conditioning the sweat poured forth. Sir Skido eyed the long letter and contemplated reading it for the umpteenth time. He rubbed his eyes, put on his glasses and picked up the letter. His whole body shuddered as he began to read. Dear Sir Skido, You dey craze? What lame excuse do you have for the multiple attempts you have made on the lives of my family? In Ajegunle you never gave us any problems but since your arrival in Victoria Island your attitude towards us has changed. Are you now ashamed of us after so many years of cohabitation? You feel your ascent up the social scale calls for a severance of all old acquaintances whose faces no more fit eh? You wan kill us all eh? Sir Skido, you leave me no choice. I hereby declare war on you and your family with immediate effect. I Chief Ekute Rattus Muridae, the third by the powers vested in me by God almighty and in my position as the leader of this family decree a state of emergency in this house forthwith. May I however implore you to study and understand why during the Second World War the Rats of Tobruk were so named and more recently why the victorious Desert Rats were so named during the gulf war? So you really want to annihilate us eh? You are not the first to attempt the impossible. Let me teach you a lesson from history.Many many years ago our forefathers had established themselves in Hamelin Germany and were basically running things at grass root level when a Flute playing nobody pranced into town wearing a colourful Hugo Boss jacket. (I say flute because if I refer to him as the Pied Piper of Hamelin , his proper nickname, you and that Coconut brain of yours will think him to be a pipe smoker). He won a contract to exterminate my forefathers. He used music. Chai! See how relations fit disgrace person! My forefathers foolishly danced in the streets to the flute this deceiver was playing. When they got to the River Weser he changed tune, opting for a Sir Shina-ish rhytym. Ol' boy, the Rats raced into the sea and drowned. Never in the history of humanity have non-swimmers rushed to a watery grave like my forefathers. Ah, well the swine in the Bible did it ke? At least they could plead diminished responsibility, as it was evil spirits that lead them astray. What excuse do my forefathers have eh? The story continues thus; the Piper returned for his fee but the mayor must have had Naija blood for he claimed armed robbers had just left his office having cleaned him out completely. The Piper cried bitterly for he knew that numerous companies and private individuals all glad to see the back of my forefathers had donated large sums of money towards his fees. Alas the '419' came to light when the news reached the Piper two weeks later that the mayor was building a big house in his mother's village and was paying cash for everything. Furthermore he was now referred to as "Mayor keep the change" on account of his lavish generosity to the shopkeepers of Hamelin. Next came the repercusion. The Pied Piper returned to town with an even more flamboyant jacket and blew a re-mixed version of his Rat killer tune. This time all the children followed him while the parents looked on smiling. It was like the Children's Day march past at Tafawa Balewa square. The Mayor even waved at them from the giant window in his office. The Piper led them to the caves in Koppen Hill and all were never seen again. The moral of this story is simple. Man wey say Ekute no go sleep, im sef no go sleep. So you want to kill us? Your mama no born you well at all! May I inform you that since arriving at Victoria Island we too have been making contacts with Rats who live with great men from all works of life. In fact, we don open eye finish. We now network with fellow Rats from all over the world. You know Ben? The one wey Michael Jackson sing about. Well the grand son is now a big man in Hollywood and has promised to send us arms and technology to finish you. You useless man. Right now as I write this letter with blood (not red ink), three Hollywood stars of the Muridae family are organising a charity benefit to raise money for the suffering Rats of Lagos. They are none other than Chief and Chief Mrs Mickey and Minnie Mouse and Chief Professor Master Splinter, the Ninjistu don . May I inform you that Master Splinter will be smuggled into the country in two weeks to begin guerrilla warfare training in a disused Shalanga (pit latrine) somewhere in Ikorodu. Did you not see how well he trained those Area boys to become the Teenage mutant ninja tortoise eh? When he finishes with us I'm sure we will be ready to take over the whole country if we so please. Sir Skido, you don enta. So your children now watch Rugrats eh? I know you wish to insult me with style. We shall see. Please inform your offspring the cat that died for whom they cried so much was killed by me. Ha ha. No be curiosity kill am, ha ha ha. I no fit laugh. I have read the post-mortem report (remember I have cousins in every pathology laboratory and veterinary surgery in this Lagos state), Warfarin poisoning my foot. I bet you think your cat eat the Ratsbane you left out for us eh? All the so-called Rat poison is no more than an afternoon snack to us. We store the Warfarin they contain in our livers and it doesn't harm us. Unlike your Ajebuta Ologbo. I set a bait for him with one of my sons and he fell for it. The same happened to that silly hawk that used to terrorise the neighbourhood. It took four of my daughters to finish him off. If you don't believe you are welcomed to buy another cat. And mind you, I will never run out of children for madam dey born seven times a year and each time na six or seven pickin dey come out. Even sef ,when I hungry I dey chop some. So you want to kill us eh? You go die o! You keep on scandalising my good name, calling us vermin, claiming we eat your useless City and Guilds certificate and claiming we spread disease. What disease? Go to London and ask about the Bubonic plague. That is disease! Where a quarter of the population dies and those alive live in fear. That is the disease we can bring. Sir Skido, we haven't started with you o! Was it not just one bite I gave you last year and you succumbed to Rat bite fever. If not for that antibiotic wey the doctor give you na coffin you for dey now and I for don chop your right eye comot by now as na im dey hungry me pass. By the way, did you get diarrhoea with those drugs? I eat some you left on the table and belle come turn me well- well. Take ya time o! I know you are petrified and looking to make peace. It's too late. A white flag will not cut it. I will sit down at a round table conference with you only if Kofi Annan, Nelson Mandela, Jesse Jackson and the presido of Naija are present with full guarantees for my safety. And just a word of advice, you are wasting time with those rusted rat traps harbouring mouldy bread and bits of rotten fish as bait. Right now we possess the technology to take the bait off without detonating the trap. Furthermore, we are now high class and would no more contemplate eating such nonsense even if it were served on a platter of gold. Finally to make sure you don't get any sleep here are my war plans. Sabotaging of electric cables will start next week. We will chew off insulation causing sparks and fires. This will occur by 4 am to ensure the house burns down with you in it. I have already told you about the Ninjistu training. We will attack you in the bath when your eyes are closed in a pack of sixty. I have sons who when they bite will not let go unto death. As for your baby in the cot use that useless imagination of yours. Biological warfare excites me the most. We all carry fleas called Xenopsylla Cheopis. Chai! What a name. They in turn are the sole distributors of Yersinia Pestis the producers of the Bubonic plague. For the now the fleas are happily living off our blood but should anything happen to us they have vowed to attack you in twenty four hours thus gifting you with the plague. When Lagos people find out that the plague was caused by Sir Skido's stupendous behaviour, your house will be burnt to the ground while your children will be awarded the 'tyre medal' (you understand don't you? Tyre, petrol, matches, boom!). We are also making arrangements to import Endemic Typhus as soon as possible. So you want to kill us? Go ahead then. Signed Chief Ekute Rattus Muridae the third.Sir Skido put the letter on his laps and sighed. He didn't hear his wife come in and jumped when she spoke.Sir Skido promtly told her they would be moving back to Ajegunle as this situation was too big for him to handle. "Over my dead body. Move out for rats? Tuffia! Skido ,you are not a man at all" said Lady Skido. "That might be true but whatever you might call me I'm still alive". Lady Skido sat next to her husband and read the letter. They sat in silence bar the occasional hissing from Lady Skido as she turned the pages of the letter. She tore the letter to shreds as soon as she had finished and whispered to her husband "the rats are afraid" "How can you say that?" "Chief Ekute uses his sons as bait. Where is the courage in that? Can't he die fighting for his people? I will sort him out!" said Lady Skido. "How my wife?" "I've been out to see a friend who had a similar problem. First we kill off all the fleas, and stop putting out ratsbane or traps. Next we start leaving out good bits of food for them. This will lull them into a false sense of security. Next we leave out kai kai spiked with infertility drugs. In no time they will all be sterile alcoholics with no fleas biting their backs. Life go just dey sweet them so.When we build a bar for them with free flowing Kai kai in the garden, long throat no go let them dey suspicious. After one week of free booze we will change the bar's door to open one way only, hence trapping all the rats inside By now the bar will double up as a gas chamber. As the now drunkard rats will all be hooked on Kai kai they will come in to be gassed. As for those who refuse to come out to drink we shall recommence ratsbane and procure some tough cats. Them go sabi say dis one no be Tom and Jerry matter at all" said Lady Skido. "Na die!" screamed Sir Skido."But women get sense o! Abeg come sitdon for my lap jo". Lady Skido shifted her bulk onto Sir Skido who received her with open arms. Their combined weight caused the settee to sag . Chief Ekute was woken up from sleep. He heard giggling and saw he's roof moving. "They laugh despite my letter" he said to himself. He turned over to his wife Chief Mrs Ekute who was neck deep in the travails in labour and said, "I smell a rat. A big stinking rat © 2000 Babawilly

Anatomy of a good day

What is a good day? While doing a junior surgical job a senior colleague told me what a good day was for a surgical resident. ‘Don’t kill the patients and don’t sleep with them either’. He used a different grade of English which I have translated here. Permanently tired due to long on call sessions he had set his sights low and simple. It worked for him.

I recall a line from Ice Cube’s song It was a Good day-

Today I didn’t even have to use my AK

I gotta sat, it was a good day

That song was sounded funny at the time but reading the lyrics today almost brings tears to my eyes. The picture depicted was one in which murder and trouble was the daily expectation and if it did not happen then it was a good day.

It all boils down to expectations in the end. If the day could meet the expectations or even exceed them, then it is a good day. Anything less is was a bad day.

I noticed myself feeling a particular day hadn’t gone well and I started to ask myself questions about the exact matrix I used in coming to that conclusion. It so happens that I had no objective method for assessing the day. It was purely subjective and dependent on the way I felt my interactions with patients went towards the end of the day. The things that did not go well were remembered while the routine tasks that go well were promptly forgotten.

It was not hard to figure out that something untoward was bound to happen most days and if I focus on these things and exaggerate them, I would drift out of balance and start to label each day as a ‘bad day’ due to isolated incidences.

There was a time I told myself that making it to bed at night alive and achieving just one thing no matter how small was enough for me. I soon forgot this mantra which looked as if it lacked ambition and pressurised myself into looking for difficult things accomplished each day to maintain that sense of having lived a day to be proud of.

I think I am back to square one now. Making it to my bed at night alive with food in my stomach and a smile on my face is good enough for me. I will always work hard and be creative as it is too late to change that now. It is the simple things in life that make for a good day. There is no peace of mind like the children finishing their food and having dirty nappies a few hours later. That is a good day.

Trying to find fulfilment in just the work place is not enough. The work place will continue long after you have left. Family is more important. If the family are having a good day then it means my day is good. No matter how good work is, people don’t take annual leave and go on holiday with work colleagues but with family.

Driven people and high achievers can be a miserable lot sometimes as this subset are sometimes defined by their work. They are on top but stay up all night thinking about how they can remain at the top. It is a bit ironic seeing that everyone dies and leaves both the wealth and the status behind.

There is no top man or high achiever in the cemetery.

Everyone wants to make significant impact in their work and continue to be productive and efficient working with friendly motivated people.  But sometimes we might feel that we are fire- fighting all day long;, running from one urgent low priority task to another. There might be bosses we dislike or working practices that we hate but have to work with.

We must however remember that we have only one life to live and we have to make the best of each day.

The days build up to weeks and months and before you know it you might be having a bad year.

Each person should write out clearly what a good day would look like for them and strive to make the various elements on that list come to past. Writing things out will make it easy not to miss the easily forgotten items that are essential and which we would be grateful to achieve.

Waste Management

Waste Management

The secrets of tomorrow’s success might be hiding in what we waste today.  Show me your waste management systems and I will tell you who you are.  No system is blessed with a hundred percent efficiency so, things go to waste. However, the best people limit waste to a minimum.  They convert today’s waste into tomorrow’s raw materials.

The ugliest cities on the planet tend to have the ugliest waste disposal systems.  Refuse plied to the rafters, stench everywhere and water drainages blocked as things fall apart.  Waste piled up blocking the flow of other waste channels leads to a big fat mountain of waste.

The wise will devote a great deal of talent, time and hard work to find ways of limiting waste.  As it is with cities, so it is with people. But unlike refuse which looks ugly, people have perfected the art of wasting resources with style and aplomb.  Some waste money with such panache that frugal on-lookers are tempted to look down on themselves.  Waste can sometimes be entertaining to watch.  The guy who buys three cars of the exact same specifications in different colours to go with his clothes slips into folklore and gives everyone something to talk about, till he runs out of money and the folklore moves to another house.

I have seen people waste things and I do not think a time will ever come when everybody is thoughtful and introspectively seeking out waste to be more efficient.  Here are my top ten things I find that people waste;

Time

Everything takes time and everyone alive has time to use how they please.  Television was invented to keep those unsure what to do with their time, occupied.

Money

Cash is King and we all have a bit of royalty in our pockets.  This is a king that intoxicates you into thinking that it multiplies in the wallet like Amoeba when what it does is sprout out wings and fly away.  The trick is to nail it down in investments so that it flies out of the nests but returns at intervals to lay golden eggs.

Beauty

Blondes have more fun they say.  There is an element of truth in that.  Beautiful people are never short of admirers.  But, there exists a strange breed of beautiful ones.  They hate publicity and hide their faces from the world.  No social media.  Ha!!!!  And you are beautiful?

Do these people know that they will die one day and they would lie in state (against their will) and all the people they did not want gazing into their faces would do so at a time they cannot airbrush themselves?  Make hay while the sun shines, is all I can say.  Flaunt your beauty.

Brain Power

Watching television instead of reading leads to an under-developed brain.  There is so much educational material online that anyone who chooses to could learn just about anything. An inquisitive mind that is hungry for knowledge, helps to keep the brain constantly developing.

Anatomy

The body needs exercising and freedom from noxious chemicals and gases.  The body weakens and wastes away when not exercised, washed, fed and watered well.  Strength goes and so does quality of life when the body continues to be unfit for purpose.

 Youth

This is a period that occurs just once, characterised by high levels of strength and low levels of experience which helps in producing a stupendous amount of courage to attempt the impossible.

That is why novel start-ups have young founders.  Unfortunately, some waste their youth watching other youths attempt and succeed at doing the impossible. In the end, it becomes too late to ‘chase that dream’.

If I knew then what I known now………………………

Talents

What if Michael Jackson worked in the post office and told his colleagues his hobby was dancing?  Or perhaps Ronaldo worked as a bank clerk and indulged in a football home at weekends when he could find the time or energy?

Behold the curse of the hobby!  

Ideas

Too lazy to write ideas down?  Too lazy to start the preliminary moves of making these ideas a reality? Soon the ideas stop coming and move next door.

Relationships

We should nurture good relationships and generally be kind to those we come into contact with.  There is nothing as irritating as hearing from a ‘friend’ who needs something and they start the small talk with, ‘how is the baby?’ to which you reply , ‘he is just about to start secondary school’.

Opportunities

Sometimes the planets are in alignment and a great stride can be taken at a fraction of the usual effort.  The cursed will procrastinate on a day like this and forever sing the ‘had I known’ song.  Some opportunities are never coming back so never waste them. Sudden windfalls, opportunities for business, opportunities to network with important individuals, all these opportunities of a life time must be grabbed with two hands and exploited to the maximum.  Individuals might suddenly find a market for their well-honed skills while countries might discover huge reserves of natural resources.

Sudden wealth is usually wasted and I would strongly recommend one year of counselling to anyone who suddenly strikes it rich.

Waste Management – an example

Some waste of time is inevitable like the case of a guy who spent two hours in traffic jams on his daily commute to work.  These ten hours trapped in the car were mostly spent listening to the radio which provided jingles, promotions and mindless pop music.

He struck on the idea of listening to audio books and now does two books a week during his commute.  He warns anyone asking for a lift that his car is his library so no ‘gisting’ allowed.

Teds, Business podcasts and documentaries follow and in a few months his colleagues at work notice he has become more knowledgeable about business in general but slightly behind in the latest celebrity gossip.

Who celebrity epp?