WHAT’S IN MY BUCKET LIST?

 WHAT’S IN MY BUCKET LIST?

All the daredevil activities that afro-black people fear to engage in, is in my bucket list this decade. I am hoping to indulge in all of them, soon as I get rid of all my phobias and prejudices, which is sometime maybe never. Who knows? By the time I hit the big fifty, I need to have at least tried some of the ventures on my bucket list, more so because I do not want to live with the regret of never having lived a little.

Bungee-jumping is on the very top of my wish list. Nonetheless, it is a risky attempt, that requires recalibration of my thought-process, in order for it to be achieved. I want to be able to bungee-jump but what if the flexi-chord snaps mid-air and I end up without a head? I mean, anything can happen in between the freefall, and I am not about to give the devil ammunition to take me out before my time. Besides, my youngin has not clocked the age of accountability. She still needs her mother and I am her only parent. Thus, I must sit this one out, at least until an appointed time, even if I am too old to die young.

Perhaps, I may attempt to engage in  mountain or rock climbing. Yet seriously, who wakes up one morning and decides to go climb a mountain? Nonetheless, I am willing to climb the shortest mountain I can find, for this activity is also on my bucket list. At least I will be able to tell people that I did climb up a mountain, if a future conversation required it. But for now, baby steps will get me to try and climb a small rock, before engaging a whole mountain, so help me God.

Before I proceed to go rock-climbing, I will first try to skate. Well, skating is not really a white man’s activity, yet I cannot think of any black skaters on top of my head as beacons that would encourage me to indulge in this leg-filled activity. I may be able to try it once, hoping that my legs will carry me through it all. But on second thought, am I not too old to be on roller-skates? When a middle-aged woman is posing a philosophical question to herself amidst piercing thoughts, just know that the answer is most likely no can do. Besides, I need my legs, especially in my old age. So, no can do, unless I am heavily paid to do it, then I will take the risk. Otherwise, skating is a no for me.

How about Kayaking? Well, this one will require me to learn how to swim. Yes people, I need to learn how to swim first. Unfortunately for me, I did not learn how to swim but I am willing to learn, for it is never too late. Therefore, I will soon enrol myself for swimming lessons and before you know it, I will be kayaking across Athi-River, if it has not yet dried up. Well, what do you know, I believe that  Ms. Betty has found her niche, yet not so fast. Let us just say that all in good time, and leave it at that.

Embarking on horse-riding also seems like a great idea, until it is not. Riding a horse is a tall order for me. I mean, I am able to but I do not want to. What if I fall off the horse? What if the horse kicks me? What if the horse hates me? I would rather ride on a camel, for camels are gentle souls. But a horse? Well, maybe if I slowly ease myself into it. Actually, I will not knock it, until I try it. In fact, let me think about it first before I make any final decisions.

Riding on a hot air balloon sounds magical too. Sure, I would ride on a hot air balloon any day, as long as I carry with me a rifle, two parachutes, two portable phones, packed food, and a copy of my existing will, for anything can happen, and I need to be ready for when anything happens. If white people have taught us anything, is that we are better off safe than sorry.

Camping in the woods is a trivia. I can hear massive laughter coming from all the afro descendants, making a mockery at my willingness to go camping. It may not be in my dna but I should at least try it, right? But first, I will need to google-search the importance of camping in the woods, before I take my chances with the wolves and she-bears. But wait, are there bears in Africa? I only know of mountain lions and laughing hyenas. Speaking of lions, camping in the woods is a no for me, for I am not looking to get mauled by an angry lioness in the bushes. Unless it is work-related, like I am getting paid to gather content for the national geographic channel. Otherwise, camping in the woods is a serious no for me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

ARE YOU IN SOME SORT OF ENTANGLEMENT?

 ARE YOU IN SOME SORT OF ENTANGLEMENT?

Careful with those entangled situationships you Afropeans love binding yourselves into, as you might choke on those lust chords. The last time I got caught up in a web of entanglement, I needed the services of a shaman to free me out of the bind I had put myself into. Turns out that the negro had done a number on me and solidified it with a love spell. Either way, I learnt hard way not to romanticize twisted affairs anymore, for they are snares to keep one emotionally trapped in a hopeless predicament . From then on, I have been on the straight and narrow path, a crusader re-born and equipped with the good news of freedom, the message of peace, but mostly with a heightened common sense.

You see, gone are the days where humanity valued traditional relationships, for they were deemed to be cold and boring. Nowadays, many prefer their relations to be fiery hot, open, and extremely complicated. Infact, the more complex they are, the more salacious they become. People are drawn more to dramatic affairs than to routine relations. Consequently, more therapists, pastors, and priests are needed in our society, if only to engage in damage control. I bet you that even they are almost always caught up in these vile emotional webs, for they are also human and thus prone to such enmeshments.

I tell you that this life is tough though for everyone. Moreover, there is a limit to what your heart can take. Actually, your heart can take any form of entanglement, when in your twenties but after that, you are just fishing for a heart failure. Just because the television has glorified a skewed kind of romance, does not mean that you go out to imbibe it full hundred. Do you not know that media is in business with you? I mean sure, the gold looks shiny and lustrous but it does not make it edible.

Some of us Afropeans are notorious for being copy cats, absorbing anything and everything, whether good or bad. First, we dreamt of being Cinderellas and Prince Charmings, knowing fully well that those characters only exist in fairy tales for which we do not believe in. Today, we want to be lovers of liberty, who embrace the freedom of choice to be scandalous.

Where are those moral values taught to us by our kin about love, duty, commitment, and loyalty? Do you know that one is solid, two is a tangle, three is an entrapment, four is an orgy, and five is a disaster waiting to happen? Even the devil knows not to get jumbled with a man who is disloyal and unstable, because he knows that humans will betray him, if he does not go ahead and do it first.

Our ancestors are turning in their graves, while they watch us embroiled deep in open-ended polyamorous relationships. If shock does not kill them a second time, then shame will. But who cares, as long as we are not infringing upon the rights of other human beings? Perhaps our children will care very much to see us in polyamorous liaisons. Maybe our kids will adopt the entrapments as their new normal.

I was unfortunate enough to watch a reality television show about four sister wives living in the same house with their oblivious husband. Sure, they were portrayed as the perfect polygamous alliance there was ever known to man but we all do know that behind the lights, camera, action is a totally different story. No sane woman would want to share her husband with another woman and/or vice versa.

Nonetheless, the reality of the show was a money grab and nothing more. I know that you modern Afropeans will remind me of the polygamous Africa, of which I will reply and tell you that greed and power is a result of such juggle-type connections, for they breed nothing but jealousy and hate.

Even King Solomon in all his glory, would confirm to us all that polygamy makes for strange bed fellows. At this juncture, I feel it best to call on the Lord but I believe that even He would not want to be entangled in our dirty affairs. So, we best clean up before He can show up and show out in our lives.

 

A TALE OF MADMAX.....

 A TALE OF MADMAX.....

MadMax Fury Road is one of my all-time favourite of movies. Literally, you have to go into the dark to channel this entire story plot. Undoubtedly, these are not human beings who create such gut-wrenching movies, as they must be receiving help from the great beyond. Although this is not to say that mortals cannot be as creative, yet the entire MadMax storyline is paranormal, meaning that it is not humanly possible to conjure up such a narrative without having a savage mind.

Perhaps, I could be wrong but the entire movie scene, from the eccentric cars, to the cringe costumes, the horrid location, insane characters and the dark script itself, make for a vile tale that is mind-boggling, to say the least, and if you look even closer, you will see the devil trolling behind the scenes. The eeriness of the entire MadMax plot is so rot that it kind of reminds me of some of the most deranged people, places, and things I have experienced.

Let me begin with the gothic Stephen King novels. You know that when it comes to a gruesome adventure, no one drafts a grim fable than mister King. You know his mind switches to a default and his shadow side goes into oblivion, to churn out the most horrid of tales. You know that Stephen King is frightful with his narratives, capable of channelling ghastly scenes, which  entail drawing dark entities from the other side of an esoteric portal. In mister King’s fictional world, darkness rules the day, fear is raw, and evil lurks in every corner of his fantasy masterworks, just as uncanny as MadMax .

The thrill of MadMax can also be likened to one mentally disturbed damsel, infatuated with the Joker, that infamous villain of Gotham City. She knows that he is a text book psychopath, yet she cannot help but fall deep in love with him. She knows that he always puts her in a mental fog, while oblivious to the fact that her love for him is unrequited. She is trauma-bonded to him, webbed deep into his lies, and blinded by his delusions.

As she gets sucked deep into this strange love affair, she knows that her life is always in danger, hanging around a cold-blooded loon, yet her life’s purpose is to save him from those that threaten his very existence. She believes that he is a hero, and always justifies his destructive ways as a necessary evil. Her ultimate wish is to be buried next to him, when death comes calling on her. She knows that even God cannot save him but she is determined to change His mind, so that she may intercede for his maniac soul.

MadMax can further be equated to that African voodoo priest, capable of conjuring dead souls back to life. He knows his touch is poison and his words are venomous. He knows his portions are potent and his spells are binding. He knows his mystic powers are lethal, of which his master, the prince of darkness, bestowed on him. He remains isolated and in seclusion, adorning gothic apparel, just as his master prefers him to. He lives way up on the cold mountain, far away from humanity, mixing pills an portions night and day, while his evil eye is cast upon those that dare to challenge his dominance.

A MadMax adventure would be similar to a classic case of the boy is mine, a tale of two seriously misled women fighting over an average Joe. They both know that he is no Adonis, yet their catfights for his possession are absolutely vicious. They subconsciously are aware that he is Anubis, yet these broads want to rip their weaves off their heads for a sleazy jackal, who does not have a pot to piss in. They also know that they are goldmines, yet cannot help but cheapen themselves for a mare playboy, who probably does not have a dime to his name.

They believe that he is the one and do not want to share him. Meanwhile, he does nothing to stop this girl fight, in order to garner as much attention, so as to make up for his low self esteem. He is indeed a tempter, that caused two naïve women to pound each other into a pulp. On this note, that zero should be MadMaxed for dangling his rotten love over two innocent souls. But I swiftly digress.

In finality, MadMax can also be associated with that charlatan, turned cult leader, who misquotes the bible, leading most of us on the highway to hell. We know his background is no where near squeaky clean, yet we are keen on absorbing his odd sermons. We know he is foul, yet we are bent on accommodating his lies, while hiding his shame. We know that he robs us of our hard-earned money, nonetheless we make sure that all his bills are paid on time. We know that even God does not recognize him, neither does he approve of him, yet we fast and pray for the growth of his ministry. We know that we are like the little red riding hood, who is about to be devoured by the big bad wolf, yet we are unfazed by our own foolishness.

 

LET’S DISCUSS THOSE NIGERIAN MOVIES, SHALL WE?

LET’S DISCUSS THOSE NIGERIAN MOVIES, SHALL WE?

Before you all roll your eyes at me, and clown me for being a Nollywood fan, I am sure that you all secretly binge watch Naija movies night and day. There is no shame in keeping up with the Nollywood scene once in a while, for entertainment purposes. Afterall, Nigerians are our brethren, therefore we should celebrate their productions with pride, while they make strides in their solid efforts to keep us well amused.

However, I dare to poke holes in the Nollywood bubble, as there are many creaks to address. But before I do so, I must put out this disclaimer that I am not hating on Nollywood at all. Infact, I am a big Nollywood fan. It is just that there are some minor concerns I wish to address that will not take away from the fact that Naija movies are dynamite. Yet, even dynamites are without marginal errors, which do require minor readjustments, in order to make them more lethal. I do believe that just a few nips and tucks are needed to perfect the movies that come from Nollywood.

Firstly, it is the way the Naija movies take at least a quarter of a century to get to the point. With Naija movies, expect a five-part series of the same, that goes on and on to infinity and then resets back at one. In short, a Naija movie cannot be shrunk to fit into one hour and fourty five minutes requirement of a Hollywood blockbuster. Yet in their defence, no African tale can be summed up in less than an hour, for it will fail to capture the essence of the narrative.

Secondly, even though the movies are scripted, it comes a time when a circumstance in a movie require for actors to go off script and embellish a little, for an intended effect. I mean, the flow of the conversation will let the audience know that the actors had to take a detour and channel off script, in order to make sense of some unique scenes. Sometimes, the production team fails to capture the totality of the scenes with scripting, forcing actors to  creatively mechanize the intended action. That is why, I do believe that some Naija movies do not require any scripting, if at all the actors are able to pick and run with the right purpose and intention the movies portray.

Thirdly, Naija movies have such lengthy discourses that the audience would cook, clean, run to the store and back, only to find the same scene playing out in the movie an hour later. I tell you, the conversations amongst the characters in a movie are too long, extremely loud, and outright ludicrous. Yet, that is not a drawback, if you consider that Africans are known to speak loudly and our conversations are almost never-ending. Like I said, scripts do not do Naija movies justice, as there is so much to be said in such a short period of time.

Do you ever experience a dejà vu moment while watching a Naija movie? It is like the last movie you watched has been remade but with a different cast on board. You keep asking yourself, “Is this not the same movie as the one I just previously watched?” From the storyline, even to the locations have a canny resemblance, or is the Nigerian topology structured to look the same? Some Naija movies are a cookie cutter to me, like same script, different cast type of a situation. Yet, somehow it always feels like the first time, when you watch these movies, as they are outright magical.

Speaking of magic, most Naija movies are drama-filled, show-casing more of the occult lifestyle. The ritual practice of sorcery is a thematic rule, sometimes taking over an entire movie, only to leave a portion of light at the very tail end of the movie. Moreover, in their attempt to portray how good always override evil, the audience is always left gawking more at the evil, because you cannot just throw the bible at the very end of the movie, and convince your viewers that good is always the winner, when evil has taken over the entire movie. I ask, where is the balance between good and evil? Nonetheless, now we know how to shield ourselves from all evil. Jesus is the answer!

THE REAL HOUSEWIVES OF AFRICA; THE VILLAGE SISTER-WIVES EDITION

 THE REAL HOUSEWIVES OF AFRICA; THE VILLAGE SISTER-WIVES EDITION

The producers of the real housewives franchise should be cramming into African villages, if they want juicy content for their massive hit show. I mean no one churns more drama than village sister-wives in polygamous alliances. These village lasses are masters of chaos and disorder, creating a perfect recipe for television history. Should these creators desire noteworthy storylines, then there is a windfall of opportunities for content within the remote villages of Africa, which will leave their audience begging for more screenplay.

Nonetheless, there will be no need of scripting the episodes, for the scenes will automatically write themselves. All that is needed is for the show makers to engage a ten-party situation per village, for intriguing performances. Also, there will be no need to play-pretend with these hamlet queens, for what you will see is what you will get. The drama will be as real and as good.

Sure, producers would prefer a more controlled class action but who better to stream story tales free style than the villagers themselves? Besides, I do believe that being classy is overrated. Instead, I would suggest to the promoters to film raw footage of the village people in their element, and they will be surprised of the kind of pulsating content they will capture.

Welcome to the motherland, where bodies are real and the drama is free. There will be no need for cosmetic surgery, for God has endowed the natives with natural frames, print fashion, cutthroat conversations, and a huge appetite for drama. There also will be no need for wardrobe and makeup. Just lights, camera and action is all that will be needed, to reproduce the story lines in their rawest form.

Moreover, the weather in equatorial Africa will be very favourable, as opposed to the weather in Sub-Sahara and North Africa, which is mostly dry and windy. Yet, who cares about the weather, with a hit television show at hand? If the content for melodrama is situated in the Okavango Swamp or the Sahara desert, then that is where the production should drive to.

However, the producers will also be required to hire translators, who understand the authentic dialects of the myriad languages spoken in distant communes of Africa. It will not be an easy task translating word for word, the meaning and the context of the dialogues that will be captured in the telecast, for some similar words and phrases will vary, based on circumstances or situations. This part of the transmission process will be very challenging and tasking, hence it will require uttermost resilience and perseverance.

On the contrary, the protagonists will require a huge pay-out, for their ability to generate spectacles will be unmatched. Yes, the village wives will need to be heavily compensated financially for their potential to be multi-faceted. As a result, the show architects will have to invest more in remunerations, air time and cameras, in order to keep the drama rolling.

Equally, it is best for the production team to outsource security, for all the villagers are somewhat related to the sister-wives, and have most definitely taken sides with their own relations. No matter how well the production company decides to pay the village security, best believe that they will always side with their relatives.

Even if the producers legally sign binding contracts with them, it will discover the hard way that blood is thicker than water. Besides, those legal contractuals are not as binding in the remote villages of Africa, as they are abroad, for most village cases are settled by semi-illiterate traditionally elderly men, with their counsel chambers under shady mango trees.

The show originators will also have to save the poor husbands from onset signs of depression, if they have to survive the many seasons of the show, for things will get even thicker, as the series rolls out. However, most husbands to the protagonists will be able to grab the heat by the horns and direct the show to their own advantage, for they are the heads of these polygamous families, and therefore capable of steering the narrative of the show. This will not necessarily be a negative thing, as it is the husbands who will decide whether or not the show will go on.

Therefore, the input from the husbands may change the entire perspective of the show and give a unique twist. Similarly, the children of the sister-wives will also be a good addition to the main cast, for they would be equally as drama-charged as their mothers, yet morally it would be best to leave them alone, for they will be considered as innocent, and therefore need not to be included in the show.