Lazy- A*s Writer

I’m a lazy-a*s writer

The laziest there is

I revel in my laziness

Aware of the writer’s code that refutes the use of the same words in succession

Like – lazy

But I don’t care

I’m too lazy to care

 

However, this only concerns writing

I’m an excellent sage

Some have even compared me to Ghandi

Thinking about it now, I sense it was all fallacy

And a bid to make me pick my pen again

And inspire people

And inspire I did

But for a short while

Until laziness struck. Again

And I dropped the pen for the umpteenth time

 

The world clamours for hard-working fellows

Work-crazy, rest-loathing, gruesome fellows

It also embraces abortion

Supports wars

And maims kids in their classrooms

Safe to say the world is psycho

So, I’ll ditch it’s expectations

And sulk on my couch further

Because I’m lazy

 

I’m lazy enough to watch TV all night

And see lifeless children litter the streets of Syria

Lazy enough to see hungry refugees lay half-dead on train tracks in Austria

Lazy enough to see that young girl across the street struggle to support the weight of the bulge in her tummy

Whilst the culprit; ‘Uncle’ saunters around town without remorse

And yet, at the corner of my eye, I watch the hard working folks scamper around town

Caught in the hustle and bustle of life

Oblivious of the pain

Ignorant of the chaos

 

They say life is a race

And everyone is running to win

Lazy me is confused

Win what?

But I’ve never quite figured it out

Perhaps because I’m too lazy to think it through

 

Seeing as I’ve digressed into territories I didn’t plan for

I think I’ll retreat a bit

And take back a few of my words

Perhaps I’ve exaggerated a bit

In my bid to kick start my almost dormant writing career

Yes, I’m a lazy writer

But no, I’m not a lazy person

But that’s what the world sees me as

The one that has so much time to be bothered about other’s worries

 

I’m a compassionate being

Sometimes to a fault

And although I’ll like to fly a plane and dump food all over Sudan

Or breeze into the minds of the soldiers in the middle east and whisper peace into their souls

I can’t do any of that

I can’t climb on a podium like Martin Luther King Jr and inspire

Or take hunger strikes like Ghandi

Hence, I can’t but feel helpless

And watch as the world goes knee deep in pain and suffering

So I’ll hold up my pen

And hide miles away from enemy lines

Furiously scribbling in my notepad words and more words

Words that I hope can make a greater impact than they would

For this reason, I consider myself lazy

A ‘lazy-a*s’ writer

 

Mike Dammy

 

 

 

A New Dawn Beckons

Gone are the days of being misrepresented. Gone are the moments of laxly traumas and countless overnights in a bid to achieve… vanity.

The character peered up from the words that form his very own existence, eyes fastened on the one that handles the pen; the very device that births him. Yes, Mike Dammy lives as Mike Dammy writes. The latter continues scribbling in the striped journal oblivious of the curiosity in his character’s face. Or perhaps he ignores it. 2014 has been a blessing and a curse. The character wonders which his creator would embrace.

Disclaimer: Henceforth, I’ll be addressing the character as ‘Dammy’ or ‘the character’ and the writer which is Dammy himself as ‘the writer’.

It all started with a single tweet;

Getting married this year… House Warming this year… Acura ZDX this year…

Maybe it was faith; perhaps hope but Dammy remembered not what fueled the inspiration behind the statement. His church, CAC, Mende, Maryland disappeared as they went around a bend; the sanctuary where he breath his first breath of the year and congratulated close by ‘neighbors’ like his pastor would say. The time was 01:05 and the date read January 1st, 2014. The New Year had just arrived.

Slowly, but surely, they meandered through the pot holes and traffic along Ikorodu road down to their humble abode in Ikorodu. His brother still tapping on his Blackberry Torch 1 yawned for the umpteenth time and his mum squinted further as she fought to see the road markings in the misty fog that had enveloped Lagos. This is my year, Dammy said to himself. Fast forward twelve months and the writer wonders if it indeed is his year.

The year zoomed off pretty much after its opening act and only slowed down to permit Dammy end things with M in the month of love. Ironic. The writer focuses as he tries to see into the mind of his character and ascertain the reason for that single act. Was it fate or has there been a situation of poor decision making, he couldn’t tell. Dammy’s face remained stern, a book devoid of words or pictures.

March arrived and the phrase YOLO became more apparent in his doings.

Come on, just a little…

Come on, pop it a little…

Come on, sip it a little…

Come on, rock it a little…

Deceit spoke with the voices of men and a broken Dammy heeded its call. They say the heart of man is wicked and Dammy’s held firm as he broke all borders in two weeks. Forever a black hole in his heart; those two weeks in March. ‘Dammy two weeks’ sounded like a suitable nickname.
But Heaven intervened and Jesus came calling as usual. Salvation beckoned and this time, the nickname dissolved into non-entity. The past roared its fangs like a cobra in an exhibition fish tank but that was all it was; an exhibition. Only to be remembered or forgotten, asides that, the past was useless. Hence, Dammy’s giant steps into the future and boy oh boy, April was one blessed future — the emergence of C… The year was just getting started.

It comes to mind what or who Marc Anthony was thinking about when he penned down his hit song and popular Dettol advert theme song as many know it; I need you. You see, Dammy was a crush-magnet. His admiration for beautiful members of the opposite sex knew no bounds and if Marc felt a quarter of what Dammy felt with C, he was indeed happy for C was an Angel. Her semi-circle smile initiated sparks in his head and her voice always dealt a massive blow to the walls he tried to build but alas all of it was all gone in a flash. Her smile was as much as he got and an electrifying half hour where all but the sunset paused in romantic coalition as much as he managed. The beautiful damsel floated back to Port Harcourt to her true love and Dammy succumbed to depression valley.

True to his ability to fall in and out of crushes, he was quick to meet another… and another… but the smile of C lingered in his mind and all came to null until he met Her.
Now, ‘Her’ brings to mind a beautiful, intelligent lady and yes she was and still is but love was too complicated and Dammy had learnt that firsthand. His walls steadied themselves and anticipated another massive hit. This was early august where the days grew longer and nights invariably shorter.

* * * *

The crunchy escapades of Dammy, his alliance with wisdom and death wish as he plugged away hours upon hours of his life in a bid to create a perfect rendition of a ‘Convention Centre’ like his master’s degree project entailed cannot all be described here as months and months on end would be required of the Writer to create a befitting memoir of a life that is Dammy’s. Life is too short for that hence his quickening steps towards creating a suitable prelude.

* * * *

The character sat still in the settee. His eyes fastened on the eyes of the reader trying to understand what they think of him. Hero perhaps? Probably not. Prude or Inconsequential bastard seems more like it.
But really, he cared not what they thought. As the year grinds to a halt, he is grateful for what he has. He approaches the New Year as a war-hero albeit timid. He has proven himself not to be perfect but to be true and deserving of a tender smile and a good laugh.

Getting married this year… House Warming this year… Acura ZDX this year…

It all seems like a dream now. 

Dammy stood up and walked towards the window. He parted the blinds with one hand and watched as the earth fades in the distance in an almost spherical manner. The trees whistled gently the songs of the wind and homecoming birds adorned the sunset like paint on a canvas. His mind is steady and set because in two days, he departs for 2015 a man loved and a man in love. This was just the beginning; A new Dawn Beckons

The end.

* * * *

2014 was a glorious year in all ramifications. Like the literal art above described it, it had its ups, its downs, upside downs and many more that I cant possibly classify.
At some point, it hurt real bad, some other times my heart felt so light from joy that I feared it would burst. Still, I stand a better person than I was last year, an upgrade on the entity that is me.

One glaring aspect was my utmost dedication to work and school, inversely resulting in my haphazard and alarming blogging methods. I stand here ashamed at the numerous atrocities I committed all year long; ranging from incomplete series to disappearances for months on end.

Do I have an excuse for all of these? No, I choose not to.

A reason, perhaps? School

I can’t say I’m proud of my antics or how all these has turned out but if i had to go over everything again, it will probably run the same way. Such is the manner in which I prioritized my activities.
That hasn’t stopped me from having a wonderful and creative year however. I am not the best blogger around ( Definitely!), I’l leave that to the men; Sirs Walt Shakes, Newnaija, Topazo and Seun Odukoya and co, neither am I the best fiction, motivational or comedy writer around.. Lol… Even a new born baby knows that… One thing I do know is that I have some of the best readers and definitely the best writing colleagues and associates around and I’ll deeply grateful for that.

2015 arrives in but some days and we will soon be ushered into a new year and realm of possibilities amidst cheers and dancing. I can’t promise I will be more consistent but I can promise I will try my best.

I forever remain Mike Dammy and I gloriously march into the new year a man loved and a man in love.
Compliments of the season blessed people and a Happy New Year in advance!

* * * *

As is my tradition, I always post pictures of my studio work after each semester… Last semester was super hectic… Super super hectic! The results were endearing though and I dare say, Worth it… Its was a ‘Convention Center’ design incorporating a monumental tower ( yh, that Eiffel tower look-alike structure), an office tower, a residential tower, pavilion and many many things that probably won’t interest you.

Anyways, the pictures are below… I hope you like them! 😀

p.s…. Don’t ever let your child study Architecture… Its a trap!…Seriously 😐

image

Overview of the entire site

image

Residential Tower in the Foreground and the Mixed use complex and Monumental tower in the background.

Age Is Just A Number

Hey Yo!
Today, I bring you quite a speech. Delivered by a 13 year girl, you would think it was scam but as I watched her, I had to admit; I was getting too old. Time isn’t on my side anymore if I’m to make an impact on the world. If a 13 year old child could make the world leaders in her time pause to think, you are not too young to effect a change in any sector of life you deem fit.

So below this is her speech, I hope it inspires you as it did me. But most of all, I hope you get motivated to start on the road to making a change.
Bless you.
______________________________

UNITED NATIONS CONFERENCE ON ENVIRONMENT AND DEVELOPMENT.
Rio de Janerio 3-14, June 1992

 

Hello, I’m Sverri Suzuki speaking for ECO, the environmental children’s organization.
We are a group of 12 and 13 year olds trying to make a difference; Vanessa Suthe, Morgan Geisler, Michelle Quigg and me. We’ve raised all the money to come here ourselves, from 5000miles to tell you adults you must change your ways.


Coming up here today, I have no hidden agenda; I am fighting for my future. Losing my future is not like losing an election or a few points on the stock market. I am here to speak for all generations to come. I am here to speak on behalf of the starving children around the world whose cries go unheard. I am here to speak for the countless animals dying across this planet because they have no where left to go.


I am afraid to go out in the sun now because of the holes in our ozone. I am afraid to breathe the air because I don’t know what chemicals are in it. I used to go fishing in Vancouver, my home with my dad until just a few years ago; we found the fish full of cancers. And now we hear of animals and plants going extinct every day, vanishing forever. In my life, I have dreamt of seeing great herds of wild animals, jungles and rain forests full of birds and butterflies but now I wonder if they would even exist for my children to see.


Did you have to worry of these things when you were my age? All this is happening before our eyes and yet we act as if we have all the time we want and all the solutions. I’m only a child and I don’t have all the solutions but I know I want you to realize; neither do you. You don’t know how to fix the holes in our ozone layer, you don’t know how to bring the salmon back up in a dead stream, you don’t know how to bring back an animal now extinct and you can’t bring back the forest that once grew where there is now a desert.


If you don’t know how to fix it, please stop breaking it. Here, you may be delegates of your government, business people, organizers, reporters or politicians but really, you’re mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, aunts and uncles, and all of you are someone’s child. I’m only a child and yet I know we are all part of a family, five billion strong, in fact 30 million species strong and borders and governments would never change that. I’m a child and yet I know we are in this together and should act as one single world towards one single goal.


In my anger, I am not blind and in my fear, I am not afraid of telling the world; this is how I feel.
In my country, there is so much waste, we buy and throw away, buy and throw away,… buy and throw away and northern countries would not share with the needy. Even when we have more than enough, we are afraid to share, we are afraid to let go of some of our wealth.


In Canada, we live the privileged life with plenty of food, water and shelter. We have watches, bicycles, computers and television sets. The list can go on for two days. Two days ago here in Brazil, we were shocked when we spent time with some children living on the street. This is what one child told us; I wish I was rich and if I were, I would give all these street children food, clothes, medicines, shelter and love and affection.
If a child on the street who has nothing is willing to share, why are we who have everything still so greedy? I can’t stop thinking that this are children my own age that it makes a tremendous difference where we were born. That I could be one of those children living in the favela of Rio, I could be a child starving in Somalia or a victim of war in the Middle East, or a beggar in India.


I am only a child, yet I know if all the money spent on war is spent on finding environmental answers, ending poverty and finding treaties, what a wonderful place this earth would be!
At school, even in kindergarten, you teach us how to behave in the world. You teach us to not fight with others, to work things out, to clean up our mess, not to hurt other creatures, to share and not to be greedy. Then why do you go out and do the things you tell us not to do?
Do not forget why you’re attending these conferences, who you’re doing this for, we are your own children. You are deciding what kind of the world we’re growing up in. Parents should be able to comfort their children by saying; “Everything is going to be all right…” It’s not the end of the world and we are doing the best we can” But I don’t think you can say that to us anymore, are we even on your list of priorities?


My dad always says; “You are what you do not what you say”. Well, what you do makes me cry at night. You grownups say you love us but I challenge you, please make your actions reflect your words.

Thank You.

 

____________________

 

Wow right?! 13 years old…?
Exactly what I thought but then every bit of it is true. A young girl made the world (Leaders) stop to think. You can do the same. You are not too young, never forget that. Still on the young people being badass, I read something a pretty young lady wrote some days back and I was deeply impressed. Hey *****, I hope you’re reading this now you don’t be like me… never stop writing.
Thanks for viewing and reading the post. If you do have anything to share; an Idea, an article, a message of hope, anything, do send them in. I would be happy to put them up.
Wait!
I bring you something new on Monday. I was bored and I decided to bring a nursery rhyme character into life. I hope you like what I came up with. You’ll get to see it on Monday.
Till then, Good day and God bless.

Please drop your comments and share the post to your Facebook and Twitter pages. Don’t forget to subscribe to the blog to get updates in your email on new episodes and articles. Like our Facebook page and follow me on Twitter;
Thank you for Reading.


Mike Dammy

She Deserves Better

Lone Survivor_ The Movie

Lone Survivor_ The Movie

Disclaimer: You really should stop reading my disclaimers. Most times they never have any relation to the post… just like this one.

I’m hoping I’m the last person on earth that has seen Lone Survivor. I always had the movie on my laptop but like every true life story movie, I never tried watching it. Not because of beef or anything but unlike fictional movies, true life stories ALWAYS have a tragic ending.

Just heard a Jason Derulo song on the radio… what the hell happened to that guy? His future seemed so bright… but then so did Pato, GEJ, MayD and even Nigeria.

Like I was saying before I rudely interrupted myself; I flee from true life stories. A perfect example is that Bollywood movie; The Family that got everybody in my school wailing and shot up the prices of tissue paper. Everybody was crying including my guys. I was the last man standing and that’s because I refused to watch it. Bad guy like me can’t be found crying.

Sha… sha… owing to my resentment, I refused to watch Lone Survivor immediately I got it about a year ago until some days back and dare I say, I was thrilled! Like the title implies, only one person survives and every other person dies, blah blah blah… did I mention that the movie was about marines. Yes, US marines!..and even though the effects, especially the deaths were pretty detailed and grotesque but they didn’t take anything away from the plot or in this context, true story.

Before you think this is a movie review, let me stop and deviate into why I’m really here. I learnt tons of things from the movie and I’ll like to share them with you as they’ll help me in unravelling the title of this post. I have broken down what I learnt into three words;

 

PatriotismBrotherhoodLove

_________

 

Patriotism

It’s a known fact that that most Nigerians are not patriotic. Yes, many claim they are but they definitely won’t spend twenty seven (27) years in jail for a cause for their country. I mean I doubt I’ll do that myself. That’s Mandela’s destiny path not mine. And like a question I heard in a pretty good Korean movie (peer pressure made me watch it) Secretly Greatly

Who would you rather die for; your mother or your country?

I laughed at this point in the movie and imagined a Nigerian being asked this question, the answer would be given without any thought; Mother. The country can find other willing martyrs in its 170 million citizens; many would be quick to say. Even those that have lost their mothers would still refuse.

In this movie however and in reality, marines basically put their lives on the line for their country and they do so with joy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting you lead a revolt with men in your neighbourhood and head to Chibok to fight the Boko Haram neither am I telling you to stand in the way of an armed robber with a pistol. That’ll be suicide and I won’t take any blame for your actions.

A great deal of Nigerians including myself are quick to disown the country when it’s time to stand up to some things or make sacrifices. To us, dying for a cause is an abomination and dying for our country is a laughable idea. It’s time we stand for something. It’s time we recognise ourselves as legit children of this great nation and children are meant to honour their parents and guardians.

 

Brotherhood

Simply put, the act of treating each other the way you’ll treat your siblings and for some reason, we seriously lack that trait in this country. Its every man for himself these days, even blood relationa are not exempted, unless I need something from you, don’t expect a call. When we were younger, they enforced that we loved our neighbours like ourselves. Today, it has become ‘beware of your neighbour’.

In Lone Survivor, bar the fact that marines are made to go through rigorous traning exercises together, all these people were random folks from different races and walks of life but come a mission and they become the closest set of brothers I have ever seen. What happened to the Nigeria where neighbours stood together as one when NEPA comes around to slamming outrageous bills on our meters and cutting wires off their poles? What happened to the Nigeria where market women looked after the stalls of their competition, the Nigeria where anybody was allowed to marry anybody?

I doubt I can take a fulani or hausa lady to my mother as my bride. She will probably rebuke me and tell me her family might be members of the Boko Haram sect like everybody in the north is in support of terrorism. I haven’t even brought up the beef Yourba mothers seem to possess against their sons having Ibo wives… I mean, I adore Ibo ladies with their fair skin colour and dark hair but no, mama says I can’t have one as my wife.

It’s high time we put a stop to the feuds we have for one another and bring back our nation because that’s the only way we can move forward. If ever something happens and we have to stand against it, we would have more hope succeeding as one country not as Yoruba, Ibo or Hausa or any other tribe for that matter. We are Nigerians first, the tribal differences come later. And remember the proverb about the lone broom and the others in a bunch. Unity pays and its brotherhood that achieves that.

 

Love

It is one thing to say you love your country; it is another thing to mean it.

Gone are the days when as students, we recited the national anthem and pledge with so much pride and gusto. Then we wanted to be doctors, engineers, lawyers, pilots with good intentions in mind. Good intentions that involved the well being of the country. Now that we’re much older and maturity has set in, we still want to be those professionals but it’s for our pleasure and our immediate families. The country has been thrown out of the equation. There were days when we listened to the news and our hearts ached when we heard of tragedies. These days, we just pray “Father, don’t let it come near me or my family”. Inasmuch as we insist we aren’t the problem, we are a big catalyst to it.

Togetherness is non-existent anymore. Some sell their patriotism and love for the country for bags of rice. Others just do it for some notes of Naira. And when the situation gets out of hands, we are quick to decamp abroad in the search of greener pastures and leave the country to its palava. God forbid a revolution like ‘Ghana must go’ of those days befalls us in those countries, we would cry foul and say Nigeria has destroyed our heritage.

Truth is this is our home. Unlike many other countries where the ground opens up to swallow its citizens and various forms of famine and hurricanes are happening, ours has chosen to give us a safe life and fertile grounds. We aren’t scared of tsunamis or earthquakes because our motherland cares. And whether you like it or not, if your mother loses a hand or a leg, she doesn’t seize being your mother.

I hope you take a cue from the heroes that gave their all for their country in the movie and stand up for ours. It’s not her fault she has corrupt leaders presiding over her, it’s ours and the least we could do is show her some love and respect. And like the Brazilians and Americans that reach cloud nine when their anthems are being recited or played, our nation deserves a reaction like that. She has being a caring mother and she deserves better. She deserves better from all of us.

Have a lovely day.

I remain Mike Dammy

* * *

Thanks for reading.
Do drop a comment or your views below, it will be really
appreciated.

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When Life Hands You Lemons

index

When life hands you lemons, you make lemonade…

I’ve had this quote on my mind for a while now. It’s pretty easy to recite and use like I’ve seen tons of people do over time but I’m pretty sure many don’t know the context in which it is used. They say quotes have a deeper meaning and this one does too but I’m going to try and address it from a different angle unlike the theory we are used to. I intend to share my findings with you now.

 

Disclaimer:

Once you sense I’ve started thinking too much or getting philosophical, stop me… if you can.

 

Moving on… last time I checked; to create lemonades you require lemons, water and sugar. So if life is giving you just lemons how do you end up at lemonade without the other ingredients? Hmmm…Oro nla.

Like I said earlier, I’m going to try and give this a literal meaning different from the one you’re probably accustomed to.

_______

 

Lemons in this context are talents. I don’t mean the money they spent in the bible days, I’m talking about the gift you were born with, that thing you’re extremely good at for no reason without little or no practice. Those are the lemons life has bestowed you with. Some people are blessed with fat lemons, some juicy while some others stale and small. Whatever type of lemon life has given you it’s your duty to create something out of it. That something being chilled lemonade.

So first, to make lemonade, you need a couple of ingredients aside lemons.

 

The first of them being Water.

Note, life didn’t hand you water like it did with the lemons so you have to discover it yourself. Water in this context is Diligence, Determination and The strive to be better at what you do. It’s a known fact that water helps plants grow, so let’s assume the ‘water’ here helps your talents develop. Many lose it at this stage. They never come by adequate water or the nerve to harness it out of the earth. So they end up with lemons still and continually look over the horizon to the finish line where their peers and life-mates turn in their lemonade for assessment. In other words, our group has fallen short of a couple of people. That’s how life is; some people never make it past the first stage and they have to endure the mediocrity that trails them throughout their existence.

 

Next on the list is Sugar.

Adding sugar to the mixture of lemons and water you have already is simply infusing Creativity into your talent that has been diligently developed. Like water, sugar has to be found as it’s not a free gift from life. Creativity runs the world these days. Hi5 went into depression immediately Facebook was released with its unique features. The keyword there is ‘unique’. Spain and Barcelona were blown away in the World cup and Champions league respectively because their Tiki Taka style of play had become obsolete. Opponents knew what to expect because no form of creativity whatsoever was brought into play. That’s what happens when your lemonade lacks sugar.

Dig deep into your subconscious, understand your surroundings, study your predecessors and emerge with something unique. That’s the trick. Nobody cared to listen to our old local artistes after Wizkid landed with his unique touch to hip hop as we know it. The result of his hard work is there for all to see… you can say he spoilt market for the lacklustre ones. That’s the advantage sugar gives you.

Now we have our lemonade but we don’t have a final product yet. You don’t possess a means of distributing it and nobody; I mean nobody wants to drink lukewarm lemonade. This brings us to the second phase of adding ingredients.

 

The first of them is a Fridge or Freezer if you will.

Nobody likes warm or hot lemonade. Everybody loves it ice cold and chilled. The fridge here is Branding. Now that your talent has been developed and garnished with creativity, you need a proper concept with which you would release it to the world. Engage in proper branding, create the perfect website, buy the perfect costume and rent the perfect offices and workplaces. Accomplish this and you have a well developed and defined talent waiting to be displayed to the world. After you’ve accomplished this, you need one last ingredient.

 

Jars and Cups.

The last but definitely not the least of the ingredients. You need a jar in which to share the lemonade and cups and bottles to serve with. We definitely don’t want to all drink from the bowl you mixed your lemonade in. That’s unhygienic. Everybody wants to take their lemonade to their offices and to their homes. They want to be able to put in the cup holder in their cars and take little sips when the traffic is unbearable. That my brother/sister is Having a Platform, which can mean Advertising; Social Networking to be precise. People hardly read billboards these days. They would rather view your adverts on their phones and laptops. The world has gone digital, make sure your refined talent can too. Provide a means in which we can carry your lemonade around and in that way publicise you further.

 

That’s the last of the ingredients in making one-of-a-kind lemonades… simply, Lemons, Water, Sugar, A Fridge and Jars and cups. Lemons never give you lemonade right away, neither would your raw talents give fulfillment or put food on your table. You need the other ingredients in the right proportions.

So, dear readers; when life does hand you lemons, make lemonade and make sure you make it just right… damn, lots of ‘make’ in that sentence… 🙂

 

Have a lovely day.

I remain Mike Dammy

 

* * *

Thanks for reading.
Do drop a comment or your views below, it will be really
appreciated.

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Love, Abuse & Common Sense

Posted this a while back… Just felt I should share it again.

Do drop a comment and Share when you’re done.

Bless 🙂

* * *

 

I will never quite understand the logic behind sticking to a spouse in an abusive relationship, I mean, how do you remain with a guy that pummels you daily and call it Love?! Some like my mentor would say would claim it’s his nature, “He can’t help it, he gets angry easily” they’ll say. So you’re the chosen one to get beaten and battered shey? That’s really sad.

I’ve been in relationships so I’m not tackling this issue like a novice; two relationships to be precise. The first one was a result of youthful exuberance so that doesn’t count but the second one was more like it. Sort of fulfilling, I would describe it even though we had to go our separate ways. Many would say I was confused and naive but I wasn’t as naive as to the point where I would raise my hand to hit her. Insulting her was impossible and yabbing her would take all the meanness in me; but then I loved her and my fist was not my medium of showing it.

They say behind every successful man is a woman and I believe many have misinterpreted that statement. That the quote said “behind” doesn’t mean she behind’s you or you are some sort of master over her; it only means you’re partners and in that particular situation, you’re the one in the spotlight or undergoing the task, the statement can easily mean “behind every successful woman is a man” so we men shouldn’t blow up our ego beyond proportion;.

A relationship is a partnership; between two people living in love and equality; the key word there being “Equality”. The moment any one starts bossing the other one around, it ceases to be a relationship and becomes some sort of Master-Servant relationship and that’s not right no matter how you put it.

Now, focusing on the ladies in abusive relationships

What is wrong with you?

Why did you become so naive?

As much as guys claim to be the better humans, we aren’t in fact better. That you were formed from his rib doesn’t give him any right to lay his hands on you. The earlier you understand this, the better for you. There is no form of Eros love that connotes long suffering except when both of you (together) are suffering together; like say saving for your marriage or abstaining from sex till marriage but when one of you suffers at the expense of the other, it aint a relationship anymore, so wake up and open your eyes to this!

There is no form of love without wisdom and common sense attached to it. If you believe love is all about the feeling; then maybe you should stick to being single and go on a journey of self discovery. Every successful love story (Ignore those Bollywood flicks) have some form of common sense in twined in it. You won’t marry an armed robber even if the feeling is strong; common sense says its wrong. You also don’t let yourself get harassed by some guy in the name of love, common sense also says its wrong. Until your mind is in tune with your feelings, you are not in love, and if you aren’t in love, you should stay away from any relationship cos that’s where all forms of molestation would come into play and he won’t think twice about indulging in them because all he has are feelings and he has nothing to lose.

If he beats you, then acts all sober after a while and ask you to forgive him when you’re all bruised up, the best way you can show love there is to break the relationship and help him sort himself out; as a friend.

If he beats or molests you because he likes it, I really shouldn’t be telling you what to do. Like my father would say’ Cant you use your number six?! (I still don’t know what that means)

Moving to the ‘gentle’men that molest women, the lord is your strength. You’re not a very smart bunch and it’s your kind that evolve into rapists and sexual molesters. You have no right whatsoever to touch a lady, no matter how much you enjoy it. Beating a lady is an act of cowardice and not some form of manhood spectacle. Except she’s your creation(which she aint), you have no right to teach her. She’s meant to be your partner not your punching bag and you’re meant to respect her.

If you do have a temper, see a therapist and get yourself checked out. Nobody has to suffer for your shortcomings.

If however, you’re a man and your girlfriend or spouse harasses you, I really do not know what to say. Except she’s blackmailing you, yours is an unforgivable case and I just pray God helps you and your self-esteem.

All in all, nobody has the right to hurt his/her partner. The reason you said yes to him/her is cos you felt it was right, so don’t push yourself to doing something contrary. If however you were forced into the relationship, see an elder or report to the police.

Finally, for any relationship to work, God is a definite constant. Remove him from the equation and it’ll never work…. Never!

That said, Stay blessed and happy in your relationships. If you’re single like I am, it’s cool. Enjoy it while it lasts. 😉

 

Have a wonderful weekend!

Mike Dammy  @damstylee 

 

 

Shooting Star

Close your weary eyes; relaxing them

Count from one to ten; then open them

All these heavy thoughts will try to weigh you down

But not this time

You know why?

Cos we won’t let it__ I won’t let it

The sun might have disappeared in the sky

All might seem lost and distant

Your loved ones may suddenly seem like strangers

Your friends; now distant memories

The haters are barraging on your front door like raging bulls

And you lay crouched in your closet

Your eyes tired from crying

Your sobs now gentle whimpers

It might seem like you’re all alone

No single light on the horizon to keep you company

And your candle slowly burns out; flickering gently like a sail and casting beautiful images of dancing women on the dark wall that is the sky

Right now, it’s you against the world

Everybody is up against your throat; slowly edging you towards the cliff, pushing you towards desperation and sucking the life out of you like grim reapers

Your royalty suddenly feels like a myth

The vast talents you possess now figments of your imagination

Just a blip in your history; a mirage never to be encountered again

__________

This might be your story

Perhaps you feel all of this and more

Just permit me to assure you of one thing

A tiny revelation I encountered recently

Of how greatness can beget from nothing

An awesome moment from sheer blankness

A shooting star on the darkest of nights

Yes, that who you ought to be!

__________

So close your eyes again

Count from one to ten like before

Then open them slowly…

Ignore the pull of gravity and rise above the tension

Fashi the sleeping sun

Be oblivious of the mocking stares and jeers and set yourself on a high

Far beyond what cloud nine can offer

More intoxicating than seven shots of whiskey or a good f*ck

Way above the reach of the drenching rain

To the world where sarcasm is non-existent

Soar beyond the atmosphere

Reach for the heights

Set your mood like its reality

Listen to the thousand beats resounding in your ears

The applause of the millions waiting to be inspired

Anticipating that song

Chilling for that best seller

Savouring that mighty leap that wins you the Olympic gold

Imagining the capabilities of your invention

Arching our hands to click play on your award winning single

Waiting to imitate those dance steps you create

Watch that movie you acted

Receive the goodwill of your donations

All these and more

Set your mind on these

Imagine the glamour

Savour the freedom

Float on the wings of fulfilment

Appreciate the gratitude of the lives you inspired

We wait earnestly in anticipation of your achievements

The princess in you clamouring for promotion

The queen beckons to emerge

Let her out!__ Unleash her!

You’re a star in the making

A spark threatening to explode

A something going somewhere to happen

So, set ablaze the dark night and cast your brilliant light on us

Dash across the universe right before our eyes brighter than we ever envisaged

We wait…

Our eyes fastened on the skies

Our anxiety heightened invariably

So don’t keep us hanging forever

Shine brighter than a shooting star!

———-

This is my message to every woman or girl out there that thinks the world is firmly against them; the ‘damaged’, the raped, the sexually molested teenagers and the society rejects.

Reach beyond the evils of the world, it is your time to shine.

Owl City’s “Shooting star” inspired this. If you know anybody that fits in any of the categories listed above; anybody searching for meaning in this world, why don’t you share this to them and be a blessing.

* * *

Thanks for reading.
Do drop a comment or your views below, it will be really
appreciated.

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Insights

I noticed it the first time but I wasn’t sure. So I chilled. The instrumentals kept creeping into my ears like beautiful incense and I wondered If most of our local artistes were immune to calm, insightful instrumentals.

The umpteenth time it played, I had confirmed my fears. This was my sub. Omari was subbing me but then I remembered I barely knew him or him me. Said a couple of HI(s) around school but that was about any contact we ever had. He wasn’t subbing me in particular. He was subbing myself myself and a billion other guys out there.

Guys prone to thinking they don’t become Exes. That no matter what, we can’t become leftovers. No, that’s a problem for through ladies. We leave rejuvenated like phoenixes reborn out of our ashes. The ladies could be the ashes for all we know but we don’t care. We just fly off to our next intending target, set the P, send the DMs and start the process all over again. Many walk around with this mentality and I daresay that’s a whole lot of bullshit.

It’s fair to say we are but visitors in this world and one day our souls would jet off to God knows where. So why delay or dilly dally? Since you only live once, live it large. Wreck hearts and leave self esteems destroyed in your paths.

We won’t be the first.
Our forefathers did exactly this.
They relegated their women to the background. Rendered them worthless. Barely worth a half-man. Inconceivable of anything great except It’s a delicious steamy pot of soup. They cast veils upon their faces like they didn’t subscribe for the same life package we had. Or they didn’t all suck identical mammary glands.

True, that situation was appalling.
Today, It’s worse. Balance has shifted slightly. Now we have two general classes of women; the good and the bad. And the bad are triumphing well. Or so they think. If only they understood that this same men would flutter to the sides of the good ones when marriage or anything serious beckons. They’ve failed to see beyond the one night stands and club orgies and rendezvous.

It’s sad to see that morals are considered with a pinch of salt. The crave (and craze) to enjoy life has clouded decent judgements.
Who’s to blame foe this?

I say everybody.

But permit me to remove the log in my eyes before I leave you to yours. I have lost one too many good girls in my short life in my quest to enjoy life just more. I aim high or so I think.  Video vixens, Club trouts and half naked ladies must be exploited and fast.
The struggle is real.
And If you can’t get any of them, you grab the nearest good girl and convert her. Immediately you’re done, you scamper off to your next prey… Promising heaven and earth and love that doesn’t exist. Consequentially, that “good-turned-bad” girl you left joins the lot and goes on rampage herself. Now she understands the concept of YOLO. Sad I tell you.

In conclusion, someone tweeted this this morning;

That She’s a good girl does not mean She’s the right one

True. Very true. Every good girl out there won’t fit in with your temperament. Do yourself and the world world a favour then and leave her to herself and let the right one find her. Don’t further invest in the bad girl’s ever growing reservoir.

“Falling in love is easy, Staying in love is the hard part.”
If you’re not ready, stay away from it.

I could have sugarcoated this but I’m done doing that anymore.

* * *

This post was inspired by a single from revolutionary rapper and poet; Omari ( @AybeeOmari):
Bloom Baby Bloom

You should listen to it. It’s awesome and insightful. Just click the song title above to download it.

Have a wonderful day.

Mike Dammy

Life In Retrospect

It’s funny…
I’ve always wanted to start a personal blog and No, I’m not kidding. I really have. But every time I’ve tried, I’ve failed horribly. Emphasis on the word ‘Horribly.’

I mean, who would blame you readers, why would you want to be bored by my monotonous life stories?
I don’t live lavishly like a Kardashian or a Hilton. I can’t promise you pictures of different hotspots around the globe in one day or show you slideshows of the fantastic designer items I buy everyday but i know someone who can; Kim Kardashian and you know why. Kim probably has a private jet, and even if she doesn’t, she’ll possess visas to the most exciting countries and yea, Kanye’s money. How do I compete with that?
Simple. I can’t. At least not yet. Just wait till my bestseller debuts on New York Times Bestsellers list and we’ll see.

So for now, I’ll stick to my inspirational posts about some of my life episodes, your life episodes and insulting Shina Rambo… Kabish! (whatever that means -___-).

Moving on…
I had a run-in with a friend yesterday, exciting ordeal I tell you. I figured all he said concerned me as much as it concerns you and I decided to share what I learnt.

Simply put; this young man explained to me why the awards you’ve imagined yourself receiving for releasing that amazing single haven’t come yet, why some of you are still stuck up in those miserable jobs of yours, and why you’re still earning peanuts while your classmate from school saunters towards his next big promotion.
His reason was simple and straightforward; Fear.
Too simple right? That’s what I thought too.
Me?  Scared? Hell No!

I argued with him initially explaining how I wasn’t scared. How I was a bad guy. How I had six packs 😉 . How why I hadn’t finished or rather even started my book was because I was busy and not cos I was scared. But slowly and surely, he made me see reason and my job here right now is to make u see it too.

Here goes…

To be direct, I’m an Architect in the making, an amateur writer, a speaker, an annoying machine and a Ninja (True Story).
Architecture however is my first choice. My first love. Or so I thought.
I’ve designed buildings for about four years now and trust me, some have been really cool but I’ve never felt fulfillment from any of my designs as much as I felt yesterday when I posted Fire in our Bellies and saw the feedback from y’all. I mean, I was literally crazy with excitement. And then my friend showed up.

I’m awesome at initiating arguments and better at making them last for hours until my voice is hoarse. So when, my friend started, I smiled at my impending victory. This would be a walk in the park I thought. Minutes passed and it dawned on me that I was gonna lose. This my friend convinced me of what was actually wrong. I was truly scared. Scared of failure.

It’s known in Architecture that nobody’s opinion matters except that of your client and the national approval body. So the height of your shame is between a maximum of three to five persons. And even with that, you get to amend your corrections. That to me is not shame at all. So I understood that that was why Architecture was my first love. Cos failure was almost impossible. Unlike writing.

As a writer, you’re appealing to a group of people. Your readers, passers-by, critics, haters, those sharp mouthed, quick-to-crucify-folks on twitter and a host of other people. If you release an article of substandard quality, you can be murdered; literally, mentally, financially and physically.
Simply put; If you F**k up, you might lose your life!
I kid you not because I’ve been a victim. Once, I posted an article about Evolution on this blog and one white man from God knows where commented. Mehn, that guy took it P. Called me all sorts of names and finished me literally.  As a sharp guy, I formed moderator and deleted the comment but a part of my resolve died that day. It’s safe to say I encountered fear that day.
The fear of failure. The fear of rejection. And so, I shifted my attention to Architecture; my supposed love. But dare I say, I missed writing. Well, I’m back now. Let’s hope the white dude is not reading this but that’s by the way.

Stuff like this happens everyday in our society. In every office, every workplace, there is an unhappy fellow stuck to a desk because he’s scared of what people would say If they hear him sing or read his write ups like my case. With that thought in his mind, he has resolved to render what he’s excellent at a mere hobby. Something he indulges in when No one is watching. A secret the world mustn’t find out.

If that’s your case, banish that fear or you might regret it later in life.
I’m not writing this because I’m perfect, No.  Neither would I say I excel in all my endeavours but I understand one fact about life now. It won’t hold up a signboard telling you which direction to go or which career path to follow. It’ll leave you to put yourself on the your right path.

So, my advice…
Ditch that sorry good for nothing lazy ass attitude.
Sing If you want to. Dance If you feel like. Write If that’s what you’re good at. Don’t be bothered by how much your parents paid for your education (Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have good grades though ). You won’t be a Bill Gates Or Mark Zuckerberg by sitting at a desk when you know you don’t belong there.
There are many Beyonces out there… Countless Denzels, probably a few Bill Gates but We might never meet them If you’re scared of what happens next.

I’ll leave you to the rendered image of a church I designed in school recently. I look at it and I understand one thing; I do love Architecture but Writing is my true love.

image

My Design for a Remodelling of TREM Headquaters, Gbagada.

Have a lovely day.

Mike Dammy

Fire In Our Bellies

Disclaimer
This is a fictional story. The incident itself is real but the characters and plot are works of art. Any resemblance to real people was not intentional.

* * *

“At all, I’m loving it sister Sewa.” Kemi replied.
“The barracks is quiet and would be perfect for the baby.”

Her sister nodded her head absentmindedly and stared blankly into the mirror in front of her. The hairdresser caught her glance and smiled at her. She smiled back.

“Okay Kemi.” She finally said. “I’m happy If you’re happy. Just make sure you’re safe.”

“I will Sis.”

“Drink a lot of water, watch the aerobic videos, rest a lot, eat heal.…”

“Yes Sis.” Kemi interrupted. “I’ve heard all of this before. I’ve not forgotten. I’ll talk to you later. Bruce is ready to leave.”

“Okay. My regards to him and Tofunmi. Take care. Bye.”

“Bye Sis.” Kemi said and terminated the call. She looked up at her husband fully clothed in his official uniform. He looked like the soldiers she saw in a Hollywood movie she saw that morning and she was proud.

“I’ll miss you darling.” She said to him and walked up to him. The baby bump restrained her from getting as close as she wanted but he bent over to kiss her. She kissed him back wholeheartedly.

“I’ll miss you too love.” He said and carried his luggage. She watched him say goodbye to their seven year old daughter;  Tofunmi and a tear dropped from the corner of her eye. She already missed him. 

“I’ll be back on the thirtieth. Be safe.” He said as he shut the door behind him. She walked to the window and watched as her husband joined his colleagues also dressed in their camouflage uniforms. She never quite remembered why it had to be camouflage. He told her once but she didn’t remember. The hot, mind blowing sex minutes before he did didn’t help either.

She was about to pull away from the window when she caught him look back at the house and could have sworn she saw a tear. His colleagues laughed and Tunde patted him on the back. She felt a relief when she saw Tunde. He made her feel safe. Out of all his friends, she trusted him the most.

They had been friends for ages; Tunde and Bruce. Attended the same secondary school and enlisted in the army on the same day. Bruce had introduced him as his best friend the day they met. Now she watched both of them head for Bakassi peninsula beside the city of Calabar to serve their country. They were but protectors of the Land. It was their duty. She never quite accepted that. She hated his job. Hated the uniform. Hated the barracks. Hated everything about the profession but she couldn’t do anything about it. The army was his first love. She had to live with that.

* * *

The loud sound of the ceramic vase shattering on the terrazo floor woke her from her slumber. The effect heightened the migraine she felt and she shrieked in pain. Her blue face Motorola cellphone rang beside her and she picked the call. It was her sister;  Sewa.

“Kemi!” She heard Sewa yell on the call. “Where are you?” She could feel the anxiety in her sister’s voice.
“At home Sis. What’s wrong?”

“Oh my God. Get out of there now.” Sewa ordered. “Kemi, take Tofunmi and get out of there!”

She heard a loud sound as she arched her back and some boards fell from the ceiling. Voices rang around the road adjoining her room and she jumped up. She rushed to the living room amidst shattering window panes, grabbed a crying Tofunmi and exited the house.
On the street, she was greeted by people heading in the direction of the barracks entrance. A couple of cars drove through the crowd hitting some pedestrians in their haste. Quickly, she joined the fleeing crowd dragging her daughter along.
The migraine pangs slowed her down and she struggled to see ahead. Her head hurt, her breathing was heavy and she felt fire in her belly but she didn’t stop. They approached an intersection she recognized and she hesitated to follow the majority of the crowd heading in one direction.

“Never take that route, Kemi. There is a canal at the end of that road covered with water hyacinth. Nobody knows It’s there.” She recalled her husband saying once. She tried to warn the people heading in that direction about their impending doom but none hearkened. They just zoomed past her like flies to a bug zapper. Giving up, she said a brief prayer for them and turned to continue in the other direction when a Nissan Sunny hit her and sent her flying. She landed with a turd on her bump and yelled in pain. Tofunmi rushed to her side and tried to drag her up but the child failed in getting her back to her feet and Kemi laid there in the red sand. Blood flowed down her legs and she knew this was the end.

The sun disappeared slowly in the east and she knew darkness would soon be upon them.

“Tofunmi.” She said.

“Yes Mummy.” The crying child replied.

“Keep running darling. I’ll meet you at the gate.”

The child shook her head In disapproval and wiped her running nose.
“No Mummy. I’m scared, let’s go together.”

“No Tofunmi. Mummy needs to rest. I’ll meet you at the gate with baby, you hear?”

Tofunmi nodded this time and managed a smile. Kemi pulled her close and kissed her on the forehead one last time. Tears streamed down her face as she watched her daughter scamper through the crowd in the distance. Her phone rang and she answered the call.

“Hello Sis.” She said into the mouthpiece.

“Kemi.” Sewa said. “Where are you?”

“I couldn’t make it.” She replied. “But… Tof…”

“What do you mean by you couldn’t make it?” Kemi asked.

“I can’t, Sis.” A sob interrupted her and she pulled herself together to continue. “I can’t make it, but Tofunmi can. Find her and take car.…”
A blast erupted and the phone went dead.

* * *

Some say It’s never too late to right a wrong. I argue and say sometimes it is. I’ve lived long enough to know that life can throw you off balance in a second and render all your plans useless.

That’s why I’ll rather live in the present. Planning for the future is also important but what We do with our present is what influences that future we crave.
This is my rendition of the Ikeja Cantonment armoury explosion on the 27th of January, 2002.

It’s hard to imagine It happened 12 years ago but time flies and so do opportunities and lives. It’s painful to imagine that there was someone who passed away via that disaster that wasn’t meant to be where he or she was at that particular time. It’s painful to imagine that like my story, families were broken, legacies were destroyed and lives were lost. It could have been you Or me instead of someone there that fateful day.

Life is a cheat.
A respecter of nobody.
If it decides It’s your time to say goodbye, bar God’s intervention, you’re going.

So my advice is simple.
Live like today’s your last.
Love like he or she would be no more tomorrow.
And laugh like your source of laughter might soon disappear.
In truth, you actually only live once. So live it right and well.

Have a lovely day.

Mike Dammy