Happy New Year. Yes, I am aware that it is now the 24th of January and as such 23 days late but you'll have to forgive me. After all I am Afam, Afam the Magnificent, the Clever, the Bold, the godly, the demi-god (Get creative with it. Any positive adjective will do. I'll even accept Afam the Ridiculous, because those who permit themselves to ridiculed in public do the world a service. They serve as the punching bags of the world.)

I'll be perfectly honest with you. I was delighted to see the back of 2012. My 2012 was just like the movie 2012. In 2012 I ran a little bit mad. I kid you not, I have a therapist, a killer prescription and everything. However I'm the sort of chap who'll look at the pieces of his life falling apart and say, "What a magnificent disaster! Do the pieces not fall beautifully?" there is beauty and delight to be had in everything. You need only aspire to see it.

I welcomed the new year as I've welcomed most other new years; deep in prayer at Church. It's a little bit of a Nigerian tradition. The last time I asked Papa Afam if I could party in the New Year, I was fixed with a look of such disdain and disbelief that I was rendered incapable of looking him in the eye for no fewer than three days. You mustn't think that I'm such a goody goody. I've had my crazy days.

What the future has in store for us I cannot tell. I can only hope that it's a better one than we can imagine. That even as the threads of our lives fray and come undone; even when all the shit in the world hits the proverbial fan, we'll find a large enough umbrella to shield us from the chaos.

Happy Present and Future Days,
Afam

It's been a while. I apologise for this but I have been informed time and time again by my parental units that until the blog because prominent enough to support my every whim and fancy I must devote the majority of my time to my studies. I don't quite like saying "my studies". The phrase isn't remarkable enough. And when I say my parental units I really only mean Mama Afam, Papa Afam would damn near have a coronary if he found out that his second son was a self diagnosed rambling mad man. It is my deepest regret that I didn't leave you with an I'll be gone till the end of January memo, and worse I didn't leave you with a post that would make you want to come back when I resumed in January.

I'll rectify that shortly.

Happy Days,
Afam

Last Weeks Offering: 50 Shades of Afam: Bottom like a Watermelon

As we leave the building I'm struck by the sight of an audi R8 on the back of an AA van. Having an R8 in Lagos is ludicrous! Furthermore her school is somewhere between Lekki and Aja, the road that leads to it would be a first class attraction at any war museum or Jungle Safari. If anyone ever attempted to drive an R8 through it, they would find that it was impossible. The R8 would balance itself on the peak of one of the trenches on the road. Kasali notices my concern.

"The Madam likes fast cars, but as you know that car can't possibly deal with half the roads in Lagos so she has two car lifting trucks, one to ferry her and her car to the express way, and another to pick her up from kingsway road to take her to her primary residence. She's a very practical woman."

I thank Kasali for all his help or lack there of and climb into my 504. I turn the key but the car fails to sputter to life. Why me? Must my car humiliate me in front of this Kasali? I try again and the response is the same. I look at Kasali and smile. He knows what to do. Like the drama queen that he is he first says quite loudly, "you've got to be kidding me? Why do we have such cars on the road?" Kasali throws his massive frame into the task. The car rolls, I clutch down and turn the key like I mean to break it. BROPOPOPOPO PO! My car rewards Kasali with a burst of lethal smoke from it's exhaust pipe. Take that limousine head!

The rest of my journey home, is uneventful. Ade and I share a boys quarters behind some lecturer's house. Ade doesn't need to but his parents don't like him going to university from home.  My father worked for Ade's father for a long time so I'm like family. Yes, like a very poor cousin from the village.

"How did it go?" Ade asks from the sofa.

"It went. She's really something." I reply.

"So, show me what you've got."

I toss the package she gave me to him.

"She seized the dictaphone. I'm sorry"

"No worries. We'll catch her tonight."

"What do you mean?"

"We're going out!!"

No. This can't be happening. My Friday nights are sacred. I read books by candlelight and fall asleep. This is better than it sounds. I'm half way into the bottled leopard at the moment. It is a book about a were leopard believe it or not! I know that protesting won't do me any good, so I start to pack my overnight clothes into a small Ghana must go I maintain for this very purpose.

"Don't pack any clothes, apart from your pyjamas. I'm kitting you out tonight. You need to look your best. I'm not going to let you let the side down."

I shrug in humble acceptance of my fate. It's not that I mind that much it's just that I feel like i'm cheating on my book. We hop into Ade's university car. He's christened the car the Pimp Mobil even't though it isn't very pimping. It's a blue 2004 Toyota Corolla but I'm not complaining. I start the fire up the engine and speed off. I tend to drive the car more often than he does as I drive the both of us whenever we both use it. He says that it's because the car cramps his style, but it's really only because he isn't very good with manual cars.

We make it to his house in Lekki Phase 1 in record time. Ade opens his door and his Rotweilers descend on him. I use this as my cue to sprint inside the house. I think Ade's two year stint abroad fried his brain. Why would any human being allow his dogs to lick him on the mouth? EWW!

I stroll into the Kitchen and greet the cook, Mr Oscar.

"Mr Oscar where's madam?" Madam here's Ade's mother.

"She's in the lobby, playing the piano."

"I'll go and join her."

I open the kitchen door and I hear it. She's playing one of the variations of Ah! Vous Dirai-je Maman. When she told me what it was I was a little bit surprised because it sounded like twelve different, unnecessarily complicated versions of Twinkle Twinkle little star. You'll have to listen to the full thing to understand. She nodded in acknowledgement and I went upstairs to catch up on some DSTV. I don't know why Ade always complains about the quality of DSTV. Compared to what I'm used to it's amazing. I fail to see why he can't sit through a not very good movie, or just watch the news. While reclining on their camel leather couch I fall asleep. I'm woken up at 9pm with a cracking slap on my back.

"Dude it's time."

Happy Days,
Afam