Can you see why I went home now? I take my welfare very seriously. I do not suffer for peanuts. I'm not even talking about money here. I enjoy blogging and taking pictures so a lot of what I do is paid with the satisfaction I derive from doing it. If I spent up to an hour at the thingy, I would have made a utility loss, so I cut my losses and went home to blog about it. 

Thanks but no thanks. 

Happy Days, 

Afam

When did the blog start?

It started in November 2011, but it didn't become what it is now until June 2012, so whenever I'm asked I say it started in June 2012. I can't explain it any better than that. Or, if I tried to explain it any better than that it'd take all night, and I can't do that anymore because I am an adult with responsibilities. Yes, I am an adult with responsibilities like sleeping to escape the tragedies of my reality. First world problems in the third world and stuff. Deep shit. You know what I mean don't you?

If you want to know what my state of mind was when I first declared that I was a madman go and read it for yourself. I'm not bringing all of that up again. 

Anyway, so, why am I just blogging about this now? I don't know. I'm a Rambling Madman. Yes! I'm a free spirit! I read Sophie Kinsella before I go to sleep and listen to 5 Seconds of Summer. The last bit of that is making me cringe harder than my american apparel underwear. Bleurgh. I can't help myself. I really can't. There's something about their faux rock voices and their stiffer than bone hair. 

I have problems.

I'm listening to Little Mix now. There's nothing sweeter than a guilty pleasure you don't feel all that guilty about. Listening to Little Mix does nothing to the man. As Little Mix is popular, I shall not be inserting their picture into this blog post. I shan't! I shan't! I shan't!

As much as I'd like for this blog post to be about Little Mix, and 5 seconds of Summer, and God awful pop (Rita Ora's I will never let you down is doing things to me #testicleshrinkage) it's about Kenneth Ize's Son Souffle collection launch at stranger. Before I talk about the actual collection, I must first tell the lot of you why I am blogging about it. Well, first off, it happened at Stranger Lagos. I've said many about things Stranger Lagos. I've said so many things that I could quote myself when speaking about Stranger Lagos, but because my experience of it changes the more time I spend there, I'll pull up a new description of the place every time I write about it. Stranger Lagos is an Oasis. Those affected by it return time and time again unsure about what it is they are returning for. Some people think it's the Iamisigo resort wear, and the Peir Wu pieces on display, but they soon find that it's more than that. I go there for the company, and the frappe's but I find myself staying for Korean movie night, or sitting on the floor of their infamous magenta room dealing with shit.

The photos by Ada. I'll talk about her later.

And the second thing is I quite like Kenneth Ize. He's a solid chap, even if he can't take a compliment with a bite.

Okay so let's get on with it shall we?

Kenneth was shooting the lookbook for his 2014 Son Souffle collection and I was there. I can't say how exactly it was that I turned up at Stranger at 10am on a Sunday, but shit happens so we won't dwell on that. The Look Book was being shot by Lakin Ogunbanwo who is perhaps the closest Nigerian photographer to Universal Brilliance. When your work's been in the British edition of GQ you are almost universally brilliant are you not?

Kenneth and Uju

This seems like the perfect place to place an ode to Uju. I have never air brushed her face. I have never had to reduce the size of a pimple or smooth out a rash. I am lucky that she is as comfortable with me as she is, for with her help, I've received a better introduction to human photography than I deserve. Our friendship, too, is privilege.

Lakin and Uju

Now for the moment of truth. I could put the pictures down and go away, but as the fashion journalism here isn't that great I've got an obligation to say a little bit more than nothing.

The clothes are well made. I know that seems like I'm stating the obvious but believe me it isn't obvious. If you're Nigerian and you're reading this, you know that our designers don't always deliver a well finished garment, but none of that applies here. The seaming is tidy, and the clothes don't look like things you could have the tailor that lives behind your house whip up. There's a lightness to them that can only be said to be climate appropriate.

Another thing that I think is admirable is his play on translucency. At the first glance the jump suit may look a little baggy, but this impression vanishes when you realise that the modesty presented is false. When looked at in the light the line of the body can be seen quite clearly.

It's a unisex collection but I believe that the garments are better suited to women. I think it's interesting because this collection was inspired by Lagos, but it's managed to steer clear of the ankara and lace combinations that several would associate with the city. I like that Kenneth's Africa isn't as literal as the Africa that exists in the media. It's a Lagos for the people that live in Lagos. I would have liked to see him push it a little further. As new as it might seem here, people used to Commes des Garcon and Yohji Yamamoto would not bat an eye lid. If this is the aspect of fashion that Kenneth is most inspired by he will need to do more to compete.

Happy Days,
Afam

I like that line. I'm not quite sure why, but I do. There are some lines that work like; get cape, wear cape, fly. 

Get cape, wear cape, fly. 

That's all I need to do really. Yeah. What I've got to do is only a little bit different. 

Find topic. Think about topic. blog. 

Yesterday I watched Tiwa Savage's music video to that song, Wanted. You know the one don't you? It's alright if you don't. Some of you aren't from around here, so it's excusable. All good stories are best told from the beginning, so that's where I'll start. Tiwa Savage is a Nigerian musician. Her journey's been long, confusing and probably painful, but she's persevered and she's made it. Well, she's Nigerian made it. That means she isn't filthy rich, but she's done well for herself. I've got pictures of her on the blog somewhere. I'll pull them up.

I took these at Music Meets Runway. My camera's noisy and that's okay because I like noise. It adds character. And back to Tiwa. She's a capable singer and dancer, but she isn't a dancer's dancer, and by that I mean that she doesn't dance as well as her back up dancers, and that's alright. We don't really ask for much here. To be honest she doesn't even have to sing when she performs. All she's got to do is stomp about the stage like a deranged person and yell at notable parts of her songs. We don't ask for much as a people, that's why Goodluck Jonathan is Goodluck Jonathan, and Dbanj is the most popular popular music star of a generation. But Tiwa isn't like us. She tries hard. She tries so hard that it's painful to watch sometimes. We expect people to be naturals. We expect them to pick something up, give it a go and be brilliant at it. The truth of it all is that most people aren't naturals, and everything takes work. The truth of it is that sometimes your best is not good enough. I know it seems like I've gone off on a tangent but I haven't. This will all make sense when you watch the video below.



I didn't know what to do when I saw it. I'm a blogger, I'm meant to talk about things like this. I'm meant to influence thoughts, and inform conversations, but I couldn't bring myself to talk about it. If I said I liked it, your opinion of me would have been tarnished by it, and if I ignored it, you would have said, "what's up with Afam? He's given up on the good dear old blog hasn't he?" There was also the problem of Tiwa Savage herself. These people put money in my pocket and I don't really want to spoil my market. I don't fancy being called a bastard every time I ask Tiwa if she's interested in posing for a quick picture.

I thought I'd be able to get away with pulling a cheeky one. Yeah, I made a couple of GIFs and stuck them on the blog without saying anything about them. I thought I'd be happy with that but I wasn't. My conscience wouldn't free me.




After doing a lot of thinking, I've decided that the truth will set me free. The video has an idea behind it. It isn't a good idea or a bad idea, it's just an idea. That idea isn't very well executed, and that's the bottom line. The cat suit could have been better made, the make up could have been stronger, her hair could have been better, she could have made less faces and touched herself less, and she could certainly have done without side humping the floor like a Roxanne knock off. You're meant to sell the fantasy, and there's no fantasy in the three minute long clip. It's all too real. When you're depicting something that many consider a vice, you glamourise it. If cigarettes had been sold as cancer sticks from the get go, nobody but the suicidal would have bought them. And I think that's all I've got to say about that.

Happy Days,
Afam

Nigerians are odd. The other day I was withdrawing cash from an ATM machine and...

All card related transactions in Nigeria are daft. I can't stand them. Do you know how many times I've been double billed? I don't even know how many times I've been double billed! If I get double billed, I'm ruined. I live from hand to mouth. My savings do not exist, so when I'm paying for groceries at Prince Ebeano and the machine says that the transaction's been declined while it's taking my money on the down low, I am not a happy camper. That's at least 8 days of me being broker than... I don't know... Broker than I care to be. I don't know why we're being pushed to go cashless when we can't depend on the bloody things to work when we need them to. And that's that! If I didn't have my parents, I'd be screwed in more ways than one. I'm not sure how much longer I'll have them for to be honest. The other day Papa Afam gave me £40 aka N10,000 and said, "go forth and be happy" I spent it in two hours. I'm not happy anymore. The thing is I didn't even spend it on anything concrete. I hate it when that happens. 

Yes! The other day I was withdrawing cash from an ATM machine when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I know the drill. I was expecting a gun in my side, accompanied by the the words, "your money or your life." I was ready. I had been taught well. The good Papa Afam told me that if anyone ever attempted to rob me, I should go above and beyond to ensure that the thief was happy. If he wanted my phone, I should offer both my phone and my shoes. And if he wasn't satisfied, then I should offer all the money I had on my person. But I didn't get any of that. He asked me for directions to KFC. I told him to get out because I was offended. If you're not going to rob me, then don't touch me while I'm getting cash out. It's rude. 

Happy Days, 

Afam 

It's no news that Goodluck Jonathan plans to run for president in the 2015 elections. I watch his advert about 5 times a night on Channels television (Channels is a pretty darn good Nigerian television station). The advert goes something like this. 

Through out history, change has never been easy.

Martin Luther King did it.

Nelson Mandela did it.

Lee Kwan Yew did it. 

And now Goodluck Jonathan is doing it.

Support his transformation of Nigeria in 2015.

Vote Goodluck Jonathan for president. 

It's a pretty good advert. It's smooth and the image quality is good and it's short and concise. It's even been compared to a few of Obama's presidential campaigns. The only problem with it is the timing. Let me show you what I mean by this. 

Enter Channels at 10 O'clock on any night this week

News Anchor: There's still no word on the whereabouts of the 276 school girls...

Advert: Jonathan is doing it.

News Anchor: Another bomb's gone off in Nyanya.

Advert: Jonathan is doing it. 

News Anchor: Nigerian politicians are asking for help from everyone.

Advert: Jonathan is doing it. 

News Anchor: There is God Oh.

Advert: Jonathan is doing it. 

News Anchor: Boko Haram are responsible for over 2000 deaths in 2014.

Advert: Jonathan is doing it. 

News Anchor: PWC have been hired to audit the NNPC accounts after the ex CBN governor Sanusi Lamido blew the whistle on the missing $20 billion.

Advert: Jonathan is doing it. 

News Anchor: Abubakar Shekau has promised to sell the girls because Allah told him to do it. 

Advert: Jonathan is doing it.

...

And that is how President Jonathan has become the face and cause of every Nigerian tragedy on the news cycle. He needs to get a clue, or hire people who have a clue fast, because at the moment, he's more than a little bit of an embarrassment.

Happy Days,
Afam

Why did I say beautiful and not handsome? Will you get off my back? It's just an adjective. Handsome is often too restrictive. I feel like it confines itself to the physicality of the person it describes. Beautiful is a lot better because you can be beautiful but incredibly terrible looking, which is why I was surprised when people complained that it was Lupita who won the People's magazine most beautiful person of the year not some illustration of classical Hollywood prettiness. Does that phrase make sense? I don't know. Do I care? Do I care? I shall find out in the morning. I don't care too much about it now but that doesn't mean I won't care in the morning. We who live at night should be wary of ourselves in the morning. I'm only twenty four but I already have a lifetime of regrets. No, being Afam isn't one of them. Being Afam saved my life, or should I say our life? I wish I'd loved less. If I had I wouldn't be so spent. No, I'm not going to talk more about this. If you ask me about it I'll kill you. No, I won't kill you, but you know what I mean. Sometimes I want to say things and have you lot take them at face value. But for the sake of telling a more complete story, I'll say that I've come to believe that love that is unrequited is the purest most selfless kind of love that there is, and that I, Afam, have always been a little bit of an overachiever. That's all I'm going to say about that. 

About Lupita, how could any of you doubt that she is deserving of the most beautiful person of the year award? Have you heard her speak? Have you seen her smile? It's an incredibly honest smile. All who see it cannot help but believe it. It isn't fake or forced. It's a beautiful smile. I've come to believe that it is not the eyes that reflect the soul but the mouth. When those lips pull apart you see the essence of a person's being. You can tell if they're calculating, wet, or shy, because of how quickly one is willing to reveal some of his or her teeth. Lupita's smile is quick, wide, and self assured. No self assured is the wrong word. Lupita's smile is too honest to be concerned with the trivialities that surround its luminance. And what of her skin? Does is not glimmer with the full bodied sheen of health? Is that not beautiful? It is so radiant that you know that it isn't just because it is good skin that is shines so. It is surely a mirror of the qualities that lurk within her. 

Being 24, has been a little bit weird so far. I've been moody, and sleepy and I've been eating lots. I feel like I need a moment to stop and take it all in you know? I'm not processing well. I generally don't process things well. If I were a computer I'd be a Windows 95. It can take me a full week to wrap my head around the slightest thing. I've been eating so much that I miss Caderrousse, the terrible cook Papa Afam kicked out. He was with us for two months and a bit. He was delightful for my waist line. His very presence in the kitchen cast a miasma so thick that I was forcibly relieved of anything resembling an appetite. If I keep up this pace of wanton gluttony I shall be fat. If I am fat, my clothes will not fit, and I will have to go about naked. Not that I mind too much. I have been fully clothed for 24 years, I deserve some time off for my compliance. 

April is done, and we're in May. I'm tired of feeling moody, so I shall stop. I'm sorry for stating the obvious earlier. It's an awful habit. I'll try to stop that too. In the mean while, I shall continue as I was before the 24 phunk hit me. At the end of the day I'm only a year older and nobody really cares but me. 

Happy Days,

Afam