Thinking out loud: I could do with a lesson in Nigerian culture...

My parents are from a minor tribe called Benin, in Edo State, Nigeria, I was raised in Lagos and only have two memories of being whisked away to the land of my mother and father. Aged six, I was taken to Benin City with the whole family for my paternal grandfather's burial. I was struck with malaria and spent most of this experience in bed, in the hotel. I was allowed to go to the party afterwards but I spent the entire time sleeping. Aged 12, my dad became a Special Adviser to the governor of Edo State and so off we went again, to Benin City for the swearing-in. Alas, being the moody pre-teen that I was, I had absolutely no interest in being there. It was a long trip, I was cranky, I was probably missing a party back in Lagos, I was definitely missing out on something better than that! So I stayed indoors, went out only for the event and back in I went. TV stayed on, seeing as the internet was more of a luxury back then, I stayed glued to the TV, and when I could tear away from it I was dodging bombs on my game boy. Not once did I become overwhelmed with curiousity about this place that my parents and their parents were born, and lived for some time. 

Interior at Bogobiri. Lagos, Nigeria

I think about it now, when I get asked questions such as, "Oh! Wow! You're Nigerian? You speak such good English, when did you learn to speak it?" And then with so much offence taken (seriously though, I will never not be offended by this), I retort, "well, a strong case can be been made for around 1991/1992 when I started talking." But then the possible follow-up question to that could be "do you speak any Nigerian languages then?" And then with shoulders down, head bowed slightly and a lower voice I reply, "no." There it ends. It's worse when my friends ask me about Lagos, Edo and Nigeria, genuinely interested in learning more about where their friend is from and I can't give them more than tales of holidays spent away, getting into trouble at school, playing tennis on weekends, etc. The older I get, the more I am bothered by this. There was once a time when eyes would dramatically roll at "iye", my grandmother, as she nags about my brother and I being so unable to speak our language - or our other 'mother tongue', Yoruba. She would get so upset when she says “Wo ye hie?” And we reply, “O yo se”, then she tries to carry on the conversation and we respond with blank stares and stammers. I can almost see her heart breaking a bit whenever this happens. What’s really sad about it is that now she just speaks English to us, she has accepted defeat.

Queen Mother Pendant Mask: Iyoba, 16th century
Nigeria; Edo peoples, court of Benin

Back in Primary school, Yoruba and Igbo, two of the three major tribes in Nigeria (Hausa being the third), were compulsory subjects. We had to choose one of the two as part of our syllabus. Being neither Igbo nor Yoruba, but being a child of Lagos, my parents advised my teacher to add me to the Yoruba class. Back then, I loved being in the Yoruba class because we got to dress up in traditional outfits at Christmas, and for some talent shows, and sing and act in Yoruba. It was so much fun. However, I was a crammer. I never actually learned anything, I just crammed the words, not knowing what they meant – I could’ve been rapping the lyrics to a Tupac song, in Yoruba for all I knew. I still know some of these songs and still have as little an idea now about the meaning behind them, as I did then. I had no desire to learn Yoruba, it was confusing, there were too many meanings linked to one word, it was stressful and I wanted nothing to do with it. Each time, I just about scraped the pass mark and I still can’t tell you how I managed to do that. The multiple choice part of the tests and exams were probably my saving grace as I just shaded at random. There was a lot of “Hmmm! I haven’t picked C in a while...”

Yoruba attire at a traditional concert in the early 90s, Lagos, Nigeria. (I will not address the pose or the 'stoner' looks these two are sporting). 

I think the reason it bothers me so much now, is that I refused to see just how rich these cultures are. There is so much life, vibrancy and history to learn and it is an exciting prospect. I have fallen in love with Nigerian art and it just amazes me how ignorant I was. My dad would always try to teach me about the richness of Bini art but my mind was always focused on something else. When my non-Nigerian friends ask me about my culture, I am as lost as they are. I make some stuff up and try desperately to remember what it was my dad had said, that one time, about that one painting in our living room. Or when in a job interview, the employer ended up schooling me on Nigeria and her history. That was a low point. I wouldn’t change anything about the way I was brought up, Lagos is a very modern place, it's embraced a primarily contemporary and some might say, Westernised way of living. I would however, have been a little more keen to visit my parents’ villages, visit my granddad when he was alive, speak to my grandmother in her language and confidently tell people about my heritage.

I’m reading more about the history of Nigeria, of Yorubaland, of the Igbos and the people of Bini. I am learning so much about it now that I am in awe of the beauty that I ignored, the tales that I shunned and the languages that I avoided,  so rich in animation, life and character. I didn’t lose my mother tongue, I didn’t lose my passion for my motherland, I just never had it. I’m changing that now though, because I look at my friends from Brazil, Spain, Germany and even Wales, they know about their culture, they are fluent in their languages and they are proud of where they come from. Despite Nigeria’s reputation, the current situation that she is facing, there is still beauty and affluence in history and culture to share. 

I will not let a Lego Man determine my happiness!

Stop it, Sparrow. The children might be affected by your face!

“We cannot help but wonder how the move from only positive faces to an increasing number of negative faces impacts on how children play.” While acknowledging that the expressions are realistic facial expressions, he said that pales in comparison to what negativity and conflict could mean to children.

“Instead of focusing on realistic expressions, it may be worthwhile to increase the variability of expressions,” Bartneck said. “A comic style expression is sufficient to convey a full spectrum of emotions and intensities.”

-          Dr. Christoph Bartneck, robot expert. University of Canterbury, NZ.

This study suggests that there is or could be a link between a child’s happiness or behavioural patterns and the facial expression of a yellow piece of plastic inspired by a beloved film character. Yes, robot expert, Dr. Christoph Bartneck made the news today for suggesting that it is indeed possible for the increasingly “upset facial expressions” of a Lego man to influence what negativity and conflict mean to children.

As a 90’s child, I was very much a part of the era of the Terminator action figures, Action Man, Jurassic Park, Die Hard, etc. Lego allowed us to build fighter jets and missiles with their grey pieces. We constantly made faux-gun noises with our mouths – pishaun,pishaun – as we battled our enemies. You talk of an increase in the idea of conflict due to these characters based on massively successful movie franchises? Wouldn’t your argument be a little less irritating if you focused on the movie plots themselves? Because what I understand from your findings is that you feel that there is an increase in the idea of good v evil and a rise in conflict plots due to the fact that even the good guys are not smiling? What you are telling me Christoph – do you mind if I call you Christoph, I feel like we are on first name basis already – is that due to the fact that Lego Jack Sparrow looks slightly grimaced, a child will therefore, be angry or upset, and furthermore, that this would reflect their playing patterns? Oh Christoph, Christoph, Christoph.... Seriously, dude?

I am quite amused that you spent as long as you did on this ‘research’ because this is a pile of hot shit. At what point do you stop looking at human interaction and immediate family influences and focus on plastic as a source of behavioural influence? Why did you think this was a good idea?

I played religiously with the action figures that my parents were nice enough to provide for my brother and me and not once did the look on Action Man or Hulk Hogan’s face influence my mood or behaviour towards life because THEY ARE TOYS. They are toys, Christoph, they are plastic and despite what you think, kids are not that dumb. The look on Harry Potter’s face as a yellow Lego toy bears no correlation to how a child plays. When in your study did a child admit to feeling a bit down because Harry Potter wasn’t smiling? Or to somehow recreating or creating a violent scene based on the toy’s facial expression? I had a terminator action figure, passed down to me by my brother when he moved on to big boy toys. This terminator doll was clad in leather, had an assault rifle in hand and had the side of his face ripped off exposing muscle and metal! He wasn’t smiling. It didn’t cause me to play more negatively, whether alone or with friends. It didn’t cause me to feel any type of way because I knew it was a toy. It was a toy based on a hit movie that I loved. Do you see my point Christoph? Do you see why this has been a wasted effort and a pointless study? Do you see?

This was my favourite toy for a long time... Analyse this!

Never mind, actual human influence on a child, never mind exposure to the wrong types of influencers in a child’s life...  We haven’t even gotten to the bottom of the violent video games debate. No. Never mind social influences, Lego... Lego is the problem. 

Girl bye!

The Trick is to Do It Afraid.

Being 20-something can be quite a deceitful experience. Surely, I can't be the only one who constantly loses herself in the fable of "you've got time..." I have constantly bemoaned to you all about my fear of not being happy in everything I do and taking the right steps to making sure that I am, yet somehow, I get sidetracked - distracted by my current life and the little it is offering me in terms of satisfaction.

And as such, once again, I have become gravely dissatisfied with where I currently am. I am itching, desperate even, to begin to tick the boxes that suggest that I am very much on the right track to becoming Maniaphobe 2.0. I can't continue to be the person who on Sunday night, longs in fact, begins to lust after Friday. How is it that before the work week even commences, I am already desperately seeking the next weekend? It's my fault and no one else's. I know exactly what I want, but I am afraid. Of what you might ask; of myself, of rejection, of Doubting Thomases and of failing. I recently took a few days off work to head home to Nigeria to catch up with family and friends, and in that time I thought extremely hard about my life and where I am now. I am not failing, things are certainly moving at a snail's pace but I am not failing. However, I am getting dangerously comfortable with this even though I know for a fact that I am not satisfied with my current situation.

One of the main reasons I went home was to deliver the welcome speech at, and be a part of Genevieve Magazine's greatly inspiring Morning Dew Readings. Morning Dew is a column that my mum writes in the magazine and has done for 10 years. In it, she discusses her life, the obstacles she battles each day and how continues to get over. So at the Dew Readings, inspiring women of all ages comes together to highlight our favourite article, and share with each other the ways in which it spoke to us, even inspired us.

One of my favourite Morning Dews, is Still Running. My mum talks about how even though life can sometimes prove to be in your way and not on your side, you absolutely must not stop running. Let your passion fuel you, let the cheers of your family and friends from the stands be the wind beneath your wings, but most importantly let your own dedication to reaching your goal motivate you to pick up the pace and keep going.

When asked how, at 45 my mum decided to start Genevieve Magazine, her simple answer was; "the trick is to do it afraid." It took me a minute to truly appreciate what this means. Once you have an idea, a dream or a goal, you will be met with all sorts of reactions - from the people you tell about it but also from yourself. The voices in your head have a way of playing cruel tricks on you, left side telling you all the reasons why this won't work and the right side telling you all the reasons why it will. We spend so much time considering the left side that we cripple ourselves with fear don't we? I'm guilty. I have in so many ways stifled my dreams by paying far too much attention and giving too much weight to the left side before I even begin to listen to the naysayers who for whatever reason strongly believe the idea won't fly.

The trick is to do it afraid. Close your eyes and jump. Your dream won't work if you don't, etc...

I've said it so many times but I feel that mine, as much as yours maybe, is a slow journey in which a lot will happen behind the scenes before they come to light. So though it may seem that very little is happening in terms of getting started on achieving my goals, I assure you, they are. I just need to quit stalling in the middle because I am afraid. I need to remind myself that this is not where I want to be but it is certainly enroute to where I'm going... I'm excited, I'm pumped and I guess writing this has helped with that.

I have to constantly remind myself that no one is responsible for making my dreams a reality but me. No one will be passionate about your ideas if you are not and in fact even then, they will not match your enthusiasm. It is your duty to yourself, to prove that you can indeed do it. And then you must. Whatever ideas you have, whatever your dream job, role or idea is work tirelessly to make it happen, regardless of whatever fears you might have. If you believe enough in it, then you will be able to power through. After all, if your dream doesn't scare you, it isn't big enough, right?

Thinking out loud: PLEASE AUTHENTICATE MY EXISTENCE!!!

This may read like an accusatory letter to you but it is more panic-induced textual diarrhoea...

I had to yell that out to you to fully express the desperation, the intrinsic expedition for public approval – as inspired by an article on the guardian website by Charlie Brooker who has the phrase, "PLEASE AUTHENTICATE MY EXISTENCE!" stuck in my head.

No, really, think about it. Is every dialogue a plea for endorsement? We.Need.Help!

Every time I watch a video on YouTube or go on a website such as the Guardian or Daily Mail (I am not admitting that I visit this website a lot, but sometimes... I do...), it is always a vital part of the scopophilic process to go to the comments to see the audience reaction to whatever post I am reading. It is a spectrum of colourful representations- the angry commenter, the awe-struck fan, the indifferent, the instigator and the ‘X celebrity brought me here!’ It reads like a very bad novel. There is the person who needs to stand out via the randomness of their comment (sometimes, knee-slappingly hilarious, other times it deserves a lowercase ‘lol’ with no expression on your face). What has become increasingly clear after reading today’s article is this:

“The internet is a bit like a soap opera, in that the dialogue often seems phoney. As a human, you know this. You know a lot of that squabbling and babbling just doesn't ring true. No species that angry could have survived the invention of fists. Online, even a whimsical chit-chat about the cutest part of a kitten can rapidly descend into a bitterly entrenched civil war that tears families apart, with brother turning on brother while their mother looks on, weeping. Resolving Palestine looks like a piece of piss by comparison.”

Charlie Brooker, via the guardian.

If keyboard thuggery were played out in real life (why has NO ONE shot this for Worldstar yet??) It would be a lot of awkward silences whilst one’s opponent thinks up, backspaces, and retypes an exclamation mark, capslock ridden response- back and forth it would go, with its polite pauses in the middle. This is not the way it would go in real life and more than half the things said online probably would not dare be uttered to the opposition’s face in reality! Yet sitting behind a computer, keyboard thuggery gives right of way to the thug with the highest vocabulary and wit, well thought out, impeccably (debatable) constructed to destroy the empire of their opponent, to the adoring “likers”, thumbs-uppers, retweeters, 

LOL/LMAO/ROFLMFAO-ers of the webosphere! PLEASE AUTHENTICATE MY EXISTENCE!

We are at war, people! At war with each other but mostly with ourselves. We are torn between who we are (average Joe, average Jane) and who we so desparately want to be, therefore we use these online avenues as an opportunity to replicate that day dream about the best version of you. The reason Instagram is so successful is because it has the ability to transform everyday activities into a dramatic, hipsterific adventure. The movie Catfish scared me because it is true. It is actually an old woman’s desire to be young again, to attract the men she probably once did, so she creates a profile, an avatar, a personality – she has this opportunity to become a different person – she’s screaming “PLEASE AUTHENTICATE MY EXISTENCE.”

Every aspect of our lives, wields the desire to be validated! Whether you want to admit it or not! We are constantly seeking approval of something or someone – banks, employers, potential life partners, potential one night standers, our pets, our children, our friends, our enemies – there is always something or someone who we ask to kindly AUTHENTICATE OUR EXISTENCE! Whatever conversation you have today will bear a subliminal message (you have the option to choose what voice you want to hear this in; Yoda, I choose you!!) Is it fair to say that pretty much every dialogue is very much like a job interview: from conversations on a first date to casual banter with friends. In both situations, you are seeking approval - one is just more overt and shameless than the other. This is why every research based on surveys is a pile of hooey!

Charlie's right, the internet is not to blame; we have been running this marathon since before the advent of the “www”...  For as long as we have been able to communicate, we have sought out authentication, we voice our thoughts and opinions in the hopes that at least one person concurs. No man wants to stand alone- not even those who so desperately want to stand out! Loneliness is not appealing; we all want to know that even when we stand out there is someone standing out with us! We want to be accepted! We sell things in the hope that people will buy, we say and write things (like this for example) in the hope that someone would “like”, “retweet” or “share” our opinions.

So, no the internet isn't to blame but it has drawn a magnifying glass to these not-so microscopic battles in honest communication, that have been going on since the dawn of time (seems legit!) The internet has laid emphasis on our desires so much so that it is just easier to blame for the people we have become.

We want to be successful, we want to feel like we’re living for something, we want to be the centre of attention, we yearn to be looked up to, we want to be superheroes! We aspire because we want validation! We want to feel like we’re worth something! Like our opinions matter to someone, somewhere! We do! Our need to have our existence authenticated is our gift as much as it is our curse. It pushes some to be better people, but it also clouds the judgement of others and creates some of the monsters we have in lurking in our society today...  

I’m writing this in the hope that someone agrees. PLEASE AUTHENTICATE MY EXISTENCE!!!