crossroad blues

This post is dedicated to Naapali (doc since you say you have a compass and a map…I’d really like to know where you got those from so that I may source mine too and use them to avoid the hazards of the valleys).

Anyway… back to my post…

I will start with snowflakes… these are formed from tiny super-cooled cloud droplets as they freeze. Each one is approx 10μm (i.e. 10 microns) in diameter…delicate things don’t you think?… they have a geometry that is so intricate that each one is deemed unique… much like the human soul.

I have said before that within the House of Agbada Daggers I am Flying Snow (do you like the new profile pic btw?… I think it quite appropriate!)

Well sometimes I feel like a glacier formed from snow; a slow river of compacted ice made so because the years have forced so much air out of me. If that is truly the case then I hope I am like a tidewater glacier that flows back into the sea of life. However, I am scared that when I get there a piece of me will break off in the deep water and in doing so that iceberg might cause the water to explode upwards.

I came very close to exploding this weekend when somebody close to me lied to me. They looked into my eyes, then called God’s name and lied.

The lie could not hurt me but my heart bled for the one that he would keep hurting; as well as for the others that he would keep trying to hurt. That I cannot abide. To say my soul is not troubled about this… about what I am capable of doing to stop this… is untrue.

This weekend I realised that I was at a metaphorically juncture in my life because both the physical and abstract met. I saw the devil in his eyes and he offered me a deal but I refused to trade in my soul or theirs. He told me that he would release the pain I have carried for too long so that Flying Snow would not become as cold and hard as ice.

Good Shepherd with you there is no pain… whatever there is here in this life… is not everlasting… that comes after.

So knowing this to be true, how could I suddenly accept a deal with the devil to become the King of the Delta Blues?… I could not. I did not. I will not. What did I do?… I simply chose to sing my ordinary version of the crossroad blues. For now, that is the small thing that I can do to ward him off; in doing so I have committed my worries and fears to God.

So here I am… at an intersection of roads…is there a better way to say that?… hmmm… I think there is… I am at a crossroad in life and I want to continue and embark on my own path. In doing so I feel like I am betraying another because I know I must leave the old behind. Only then can I return to it; only then can I understand more about the beauty of ages.

Good Shepherd I am looking to you (as I have always have) to guide me on this path.

Besides… you know I hate the idea of a satellite navigation systems simply because someone once told me that ‘women can’t read maps’… I will not be beaten by that statement… yes, I admit that I have gotten lost plenty of times; within cities, en route to cities, en route in life. Mostly because I have not trusted myself. This lack of self belief somtimes causes me to take a left or right turn much too early when I should have just continued forward. Goodness me, I even remember my delight at actually being able to drive on my own only to find out that I had missed my exit at a roundabout and was already halfway to Liverpool instead of Manchester.

Good Shepherd I want you to know that I will not stop trying to master how to read that map.

I will continue trying to drive through life without the devil on my shoulder, whispering where to go to me or telling me when to change gears … so what if I failed my driving test two times before… I passed it the third time. So what if I crashed the company hire car into the car park gates as I tried to reverse out… I believe that that is what car insurance is for.

My soul is insured through you. I smile now as I remember crying late that night when I was driving. I had followed diversion upon diversion not really knowing where they were taking me. I had been on the road for nearly 8 hours. It was close to midnight. I was tired and lost…very certain I would drive into a ditch cloaked in darkness. I calmed myself down and prayed. I decided to risk it and take the next turning and suddenly I stumbled upon a hotel. They had no spare room but the lady at the desk called another hotel about 5 miles away and organised a room for me. There is where I laid my head to sleep that night. It was a peaceful sleep for I knew that:

‘... thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me...’ Psalm 23

I will continue my best on this path… Yes I know I drive a little too fast for your liking at times… darn, I even admit to taking part in those unofficial races on the motorway. Er… I guess I am also a little too impatient at other times… I have used the inside lane to undertake in the past and you've seen me overtake those slow moving tractors on narrow country lanes… and perhaps once or twice I have very stupidly tried to out manoeuvre another on a blind summit.

Good Shepherd thank you for always being there with me and stopping me from endangering others and myself.

I have discovered that it is important to pace myself… the key is to learn from my mistakes and grow into that which I know myself to be … as a result I am a better driver… my map reading is coming along too :-)

Good Shepherd I choose you. Always.

Read more...

house of agbada daggers

This post is inspired by Afrobabe (babes, I know you say your mum is a prayer warrior but I said my own prayer for change for ‘3rd brother’).

Her latest post for a ‘solution required!’ got all sorts of comments (babes, for being a good sport about it all, especially with the few that could possibly be viewed as negative, I salute you).

Anyway… my comment at hers was based on her concept of ‘3rd brother’. I chose to depict the chain of events in her post as a scene in a chinese film (yep for the sake of authenticity, I even threw in the out of sync voice over)… thankfully she took it as intended & saw the funny side!

In the same way, let me introduce you to my family… ours is the ‘House of Agbada Daggers’… I actually prefer the ‘House of Flying Jalabias’… it sounds way cooler but we are yoruba & correctly proud of it.

The ‘House of Agbada Daggers’ follows many rules. One of which is ‘honour’… it is key. The family honour must be protected at all times. As a result all members of our house do not take any criticism of any of its other members well from outsiders. To us it is a declaration of war. We have waged many successful campaigns because we follow the mantra of military ‘qi’.

We are not stupid though… in any situation after this has happened; ‘the defender’ will haul ‘the accused’ into the dock. ‘The jury’ is called & seated. Then judgement begins. I hated the family meetings because the sentences were quite demoralising. I learned a lesson from them sha… I got... correction… we all got smarter with our antics.

Anyway… ours is a house of six ruling members… I say ruling because it is rare for any of us to back down from our convictions. I digress...

There is Baba, Mãe, Ade, Ali, Shubby Doo and ATA.

Baba aka Emperor aka Old Master Bo
Baba was an air force officer. Despite his usual gra-gra, to all his children he would say ‘take it easy… fi ara ba le’. These words were always accompanied with a hand gesture that indicated the same. My father taught me the lesson of silence…a wise man takes time to listen…it is especially important if one has nothing intelligent to say.

Old Master Bo: Flying Snow, anybody can be heard; but to be understood one must to know right words to use. 1st acquire knowledge about your subject and then your audience. Remember ‘a little impatience will spoil great plans.’

My father once found out that Ade was caught sneaking out of school. He did not deal with this immediately; instead he ruined the holiday for my brother because Ade was left to stew in the fear of the unknown for its entirety. With 2 days to go, my father woke him up at 5:30am and told him to get dressed (note that he didn’t say brush, baff and get dressed o!). Ade was ready, at the front door, in less than 5 mins. They went out for a walk. While they were out he told him this.

Old Master Bo: Li Mu Bai, I am not happy about your behaviour because you should have been in school. But I am not angry that you snuck out. I am angry that you got caught. My son, now I hope that ‘a fall into a ditch makes you wiser’.

Mãe aka Empress aka Jade Fox aka The Governess
I am very much like my mother… we can smell a rat from a distance. However, our methods of execution are very different. She tends to act swiftly; setting up a cunning trap. The furore around her kill is normally quite dramatic.

My mother found out about the true nature of my relationship with Ludriness when she called me at school. I had a deal with my house mistress who decided to take that particular night off. Her substitute told my mother that I was spending the w/e away and that she had signed the form (yes o! I faked her signature). My mother made no fuss; she simply asked for a contact number and called. Luridness picked up. She never told my father of my deception but I was greeted with some serious slaps when I got home.

The Governess: Are you sleeping with him? Is this why I sent you to school? Your life is ahead of you or is it that you want to ruin it? By doing this you are ‘binding your feet to prevent progress’.

After my tears, there were more questions. With my answers she concluded that Luridness was not the best for me (does my Mãe have a spooky sixth sense or what?!)

Ade aka Crown Prince aka Li Mu Bai
Ade was the prime source of family meetings. As a young teenager, he indulged in the usual drinking and man chasing woman wrapper business. He always stayed out late and came back during the early hours of dawn. It drove my mother crazy; somehow my dad remained calm. He sat my brother down to explain something simple to him.

Old Master Bo: Li Mu Bai, you are young and your exuberance is telling you to seize every opportune moment but don’t over do this… a she ju man pa yon. It is not right to be ‘adding the legs while painting a snake’.

As Ade grew older he chose to hover in between the young and old because he felt that his duty as first born demanded it. He reigned supreme in the absence of our parents but shielded us a lot from our mother’s rantings. Ade got a thick skin for it. However, it was not bullet proof so like Neo he learned to dodge with skill. Suddenly, despite his usual exploits, the family meetings became more about Ali, ATA, and I. I paid attention and realised his plan; diversionary tactics. Egbon was taking style to betray us to our parents to keep the heat of him…Kai! It had to stop. I gathered the others together to discuss the situation.

Flying Snow: All we have to do is figure out his plan to know his next move. ‘When the map is unrolled, the dagger is revealed’. There are three of us. Eyin boys e ja ka so owo po. If we stand together united, ‘three people can make up a tiger’.

These days when Ade sees me he smiles. He calls out ‘ringleader don land. lil’ sis how now?’ or ‘kaisho, oyabun of all oyabun’. I laugh.

Ali aka 2nd Son aka Young Prince aka Jin
Ali and I are very very close but the guy knows how to wind me up…big time. There is this thing he does with his hands and eyes that still fucks me off till today. If anybody else tries it and I’m cool; totally unfazed but with Ali I loose it completely. My family finds the whole scene hilarious.

Ali terrorised me as a kid. In turn, I took great pleasure watching him being punished. I developed a particular wail that became universally recognised as a cry for help (a bit like the signal in batman…lol).

As kids, my presence antagonised him & I just didn’t understand why he always went for me. Apparently to him I was the younger sister who had betrayed him before I learnt to speak. The story goes that he came to play with me as a toddler and I smashed a battery over his head….LMAOOO (secretly I’m happy I got the first jab in but officially I’m still blaming muscle spasm). As kids, my parents always told me to leave him alone.

The Governess: Flying Snow we’ve bought you a new Ballerina Barbie doll. Leave Jin alone, ‘a rat who gnaws at a cat's tail invites destruction.’

Barbie, Ken and Skipper were great distractions in the short term but in the end I just wanted to hang with my older bro.

One time, a day after ATA’s naming ceremony, I was outside playing and I saw Ali pick up a knife that had been used to kill the malu. It was clean. He put it into the fire. Then, with a devilish glint in his eye, he turned and called me…I skipped over. He placed the hot blade on my neck and burnt me. My mother beat the sheggae out of him (thank you again God for this skin of mine that heals really well because I don’t have a scar despite Ali’s assault).

Although I have always loved him dearly, Ali is one of my inspirations for taking up kung fu for a year with a real shaolin monk after uni (no joke!). I also learnt to run fast because of him and every time I see him, I remember my unbeaten season at 200m sprints with pride.

Shubby Doo aka Princess aka Flying Snow
You know me a little already… through my blog… this is my look inward within an enclosure of boundless space… it is my interpretation of me. I am not quite sure why I blog but I do know that ‘a bird does not sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song’. I am Flying Snow.

ATA aka 3rd Son aka Small Prince aka Shinobi aka Nameless
ATA and I are extremely close. His is my protégé. For my every action, ATA can describe the thought process behind my decision. He decided to study engineering too; although, our chosen dialects are different. He also took up martial arts (kempo karate) but he did it for many years. ATA is the silent assassin of the house.

When ATA was younger, to all his questions I would reply ‘I will tell you when you are older’ (yeah right!... like either he or I would remember… I just wanted the little brat out of my way... funny how history repeats itself but this time my intolerance of him was because he wasn't born a girl!). He too didn’t like being ignored/ or dismissed. I think it was one of the reasons that he consciously chose to be the best of all of us (as he saw us); he is brighter than me, he is stronger than Ali and he is wiser than Ade.

With time the age gap between all of us has reduced and we are all much closer. We are also quite close because Ade, Ali, ATA and I used to run around hitting each other as kids (and well beyond those years). The aim of this game of endearment was simple… strike the deadliest blow and then seek cover. While the victim writhed in pain, the assailant would comment hysterically on the effectiveness of the strike.

Due to my gender and his youth, ATA and I played tag team… but not always… within the ‘House of Agbada Daggers’ when the heat was on you were on your own. One day, I landed one on ATA just after we’d just dealt with Ali together. When I saw the confusion in his eyes, I could no longer keep a straight face… I collapsed laughing. ATA calmly walked over, picked me up and floored me. I was stunned… my 13 year old little brother ke?… na lie!... I wanted a rematch (very dumb idea I know but the small boy had just chanced me!). ATA did it again. His take down was just too quick so I cannot tell you his exact move (perhaps some sort of suflex). I can tell you that Ali just stood there, and nearly pissed himself with laughter. Ade learnt about this and sat me down.

Li Mu Bai: Flying Snow you are older but you are a girl… your age made you forget that he was learning new techniques to prove himself as a match for us in various ways… your attitude towards Nameless was wrong… remember that ‘the arrogant army will lose the battle for sure.’ My approach to him will now be different thanks to you. Senior boy thinking is now needed for the kid to ensure he does not ‘out-gun’ us.

How very true… last week ATA sent me a text and then I called him.

ATA: Na wah for this your need to bond o!
Shubby Doo: Eh?!
ATA: Why do you always call me when I text you?
Shubby Doo: You asked me for some info and you are now opening your mouth to complain about my method of delivery. This kid, you’re not a serious human being.
ATA: Hahaha… cheers sis. But you know that once I have this PhD, you must start calling me Dr ATA sha.
Shubby Doo: Love you lil’ bro but dream on... no forget say ‘okra no dey grow pass im master’ … hahaha.

You now have an insight into the members of the ‘House of Agbada Daggers’.

Proceed & comment but beware of our ‘honour’.

Read more...

blow

Last Saturday, I got phone call which I didn’t answer because the roaming charges in Istanbul for my UK phone tariff were high. I sent a reply to explain. The next morning I received a text message asking me to call. I replied the text with another one saying I would call once I was back in England. Then I got another text message. When I read it I thought sod the roaming charges and I called her:

Shubby Doo: Hello. What happened?
Her: Hello. Shubby Doo calm down. Please.
Shubby Doo: Don’t worry about me. What happened? Are you ok?
Her: I’m ok. I’m in bit of pain.
Shubby Doo: What was it this time? Just tell me what happened?

He had beaten her.

She said when the first blow connected; she didn’t even bother to scream she just started running. She locked the bedroom door and then locked herself in the bathroom. When he broke down both doors, she instinctively raised her arms to protect herself…it hadn’t helped. He had just continued to beat her...she said he didn’t stop when she hit the ground...he had just kept pummelling her body with punches and kicks.

She laughed bitterly when she admitted that amidst her screams, she heard him saying repeatedly “I’m going to kill you”.

At one point I thought she said he had used something to hit her over the head. I stopped her...had I heard correctly? what had he used? She said no, he had ‘just’ punched her on the head again and again…

‘just’ ke?…there is nothing ‘just’ about his behaviour.

With every blow he has ever laid on her before last saturday, as well as those blows that he rained down on her on that day, he is ignoring the bible verse that says:

‘…husband love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave himself for her’ Ephesians 5:25

Good Shepherd, let your peace descend upon him. Please show him that the way to love is through, care, affection, commitment, understanding, trust, respect, and sincerity.

I do not understand why he runs off to his village so often...please who does business in the village these days?

Despite my plea for her to stay with her sister in Lagos, reluctantly she goes with him. Before she liked going to his village to see his mother...iya was the kind hearted soul who sheltered her from her monster. His mother is dead now...she said that when she arrived there after iya died he had held on to her tightly...he had wailed he in her arms like ‘a baby’. She was not allowed at the graveside but she heard he hadn't stop crying when they were burying iya.

She does not like going to his village now because it is full of lying and thieving beggars who will say anything to him for some money…that is how they earn their way. She can see through their deceit but she has learnt that it is better to say nothing...one word against them and she incurs his wrath.

I have no understanding why an educated and well travelled man likes to surround himself in such treachery...I guess it is simply because in that remote world he is idolised falsely...she says he likes it when they call him ‘oga’...‘sir…‘governor’…‘chief’...‘daddy’...‘baba wa’...

I think he also likes taking her there when he is itching to use her as target practice...in his village she is away from her loved ones …in his village she isolated.

She is still there now. The doctor has visited her at home several times...in the room with no door. She is now on some medication. She gets more immediate relief when he gives her an injection for the pain. She says hasn't been able to sleep since that night...she is scared to close her eyes.

She says sometimes she wishes it would end...it will someday but sadly I don't think one of them will survive it...she says if by some lucky chance he leaves this world before her as a Christian she is not sure she would observe iddah as his widow...then she says that a mourning period consisting of four lunar cycles and 10 days is a small price to pay compared with what she has endured already. At other times she says she can't help but smile at the thought of her dead parents patiently waiting to receive her but then she remembers the children...always...she thinks first of the children.

Good Shepherd, watch over her. Please take up her struggle and be her shield.

One time, he tore her clothes off as he beat her at home...the village onlookers just stood there and watched the show...that time he left her bleeding and bruised in their front reception room in her underwear...this was about six to nine months after she had had major surgery...he was not the reason she had been in hospital but she was still supposed to be taking it easy.

I do not understand why:
1) It is still considered ok for a man to beat his wife in Nigeria?
2) Such men are always so adept at hiding their true colours up until the time a woman has walked up the aisle and lovingly said “I do”?

Before they got married…he was her gentleman.
After they got married…he stopped her modelling work.
After she gave birth to the children…he stopped her career as a teacher.

Like I've said his abuse is not a new thing...but it is becoming worse...sadly not only for her.

On one occasion, his little boy stood up to him. That should have stopped a grown man...but not this man. Instead, he went to his child’s room and started to throw the boy’s things out…the child was not going to sleep under his roof. She had started begging him to stop…it was not the boy’s fault…she told him he could do whatever he wanted to her. He didn’t continue his attack because he had already satisfied his thirst for violence...but now he had also evoked such fear that she was willing to submit to anything....his ego had been well fed by this notion...so much so that he did not speak to his son for 2 months...can you imagine that they had to specially seek ‘an audience’ with him so that the boy could say sorry for taking mummy’s side.

On another occassion he beat his other son for helping mummy pack as she tried to leave... she had found out (yet again o!) that he was sleeping with someone else...enough was enough...when he wasn't at home, she started moving her stuff out a little bit at a time...he found out. First he beat her...then he asked his boy where had she been going?...where was her stuff?... his eldest son refused to talk. When he was done with both of them he locked each one in a different room to think about what they had done...to think about how they had betrayed him. It was not to happen again.

I could give other examples but there is no point...it always ends the same way...with violence...not because he was raised that way o!...his mother told her that his father would have been ashamed had he lived to see this.

I think he does this because he wants to be master of all he surveys...he believes his ‘might is right’.

She is both friend and family...I cherish her beyond words...simply put...she is too dear to me to loose...but I don't understand what to do anymore as I've realised that:

Their union cannot still be a blessing because it is based on fear.

I fear one day, in his rage, she will die.

I know, for now, she will not leave him,
I know she endures it for her children.

Good Shepherd, guide and guard her under that shadow of your wing. Please keep her safe.

Read more...

T5

5th June…today all British Airways flights between Heathrow and Nigeria move to the dreaded Terminal 5…This post is to mark the occasion.

Will Nigerians suffer the jinx of T5?…I suspect some will fall prey to that place…I have. I don’t fly British Airways to Nigeria because I don’t like wahala…I believe in a stress free life so if anything or anybody tries to compromise that they get cast aside...case in point – British Airways.

I loved British Caledonia when I was younger but when they stopped my family switched to British Airways. About 3 years ago I refused to spend money on the disrespect and the poor service on the London to Lagos BA route so I switched to Virgin Atlantic…no regrets so far.

At this point I have to confess that about 1 month before I travelled I received an invite to join one of those never fly British Airways or boycott flying British Airways groups on facebook. I simply clicked ‘confirm’ without thinking about it twice. If you are Nigerian you will guess why…if not, the antics of ‘brutish airways’ are summarised perfectly in Solomonsydelle's blogs.

At this point I also have to confess to a dual truth…I still tend to use British Airways 2 fly everywhere else.

I think God wanted me to test out this dichotomy…I think I knew inside…somewhere deep down I would fall foul of this one day…such beliefs cannot co-exist in one person.

I’ll start with a song by R Kelly that described how I was feeling when I woke up that day:

‘…I believe I can fly
I believe I can touch the sky
I think about it every night and day
Spread my wings and fly away
I believe I can soar
I see me running through that open door …’

I believed I could fly…twice in one day…British Airways did not…the cretins at Terminal 5 slammed the door firmly in my face and then lost my luggage. At that moment my brain scattered…I was confused and tired…but mostly confused.

Rewind back to how my day had started…well…in Ikoyi. Nepa was behaving so the generator hadn’t disturbed my sleep. We thank God o!

I stepped out of bed. I couldn’t walk properly…my feet were on fire…I laughed as a remembered dancing at my aunt’s ‘birthday do’ in 4 inch heels…i love family functions like that...so i thought no long thing. I showered and dressed. I put on a cute pair of hoop earrings. Then packed, had breakfast and said my goodbyes.

I got in the car & gave the driver his ‘dash’…normally I do this at the airport but for some reason that day I gave him the money at the house. I think that the generosity sent Wale into some sort of euphoria. However, his joy started the run of bad luck that stayed with me the whole day.

Forewarning 1 – in an attempt to avoid the morning traffic in oshodi, Wale started diverting left, right and centre…this shortcut and then that shortcut…he would then loose his bearings and take the wrong turns. At one point I realised we were headed back to ikoyi. I lost it then…suffice to say I yelled at him to disengage all the loose wires short circuiting in his brain and follow the directions I gave. I routed us back through oshodi to get to the airport.

Forewarning 2 – My Baba was furious. He was at the airport and he’d been waiting since 7:30am. He needed to hand over some documents to me. It was now 8:15am and I was not there. He called me:

Baba: Where are you?
Shubby Doo: Good morning sir. I’m in the car to the airport
Baba: Where are you? What is your estimated time of arrival?
Shubby Doo: I’m not sure sir…we are stuck in traffic in oshodi
Baba: Why are you behaving like this?…awon uncle and aunty sachs are here already…oshodi ke? Why did you go that way? Kilode…Shubby Doo why are doing this today?

Me ke?

At that point, I tried to cut in to explain. He hung up…ha!!!…not a good sign…not a good sign at all.

My dad is a retired Air force officer and 1 minute late is unacceptable. He kept calling me every 2mins after that but I was too afraid to pick up…I got 14 missed calls from his number. I focused on just getting Wale to the airport…

Forewarning 3 – I faced my Baba’s wrath at the airport…I greeted him and he threatened to go military on me…lol…I laugh now but he did use those exact words…on hearing this, I ducked away, greeted uncle and aunty sachs and went to check in.

Forewarning 4 – When I got to the gate to board my flight I realised I couldn’t find my boarding pass and Nigerian passport in my handbag…my Baba has special privileges...it means he can stroll through most of Murtala Mohammed…so you guessed it…he was there when I discovered I longer had my particulars.

Baba: What is it?
Shubby Doo: I can’t find my nigerian passport and boarding pass
Baba: Not possible
Shubby Doo: I don’t have it. I’ve checked
Baba: Can you use your British Passport?
Shubby Doo: I can’t. It has no Nigerian visa on it. Plus I don’t have my boarding pass

My father just looked at me with contempt. I rushed back to the lounge. I searched…no passport or boarding pass. I returned to where my father was seated.

Baba: Did you find it?
Shubby Doo: No

For some reason I decided to check my laptop bag...thank God...it had my naija passport and boarding pass inside it. At that moment, I swear if looks could kill, the expression on my Baba’s face would have vaporised me.

Baba: You cannot be doing this...ara reo bale! You must always know where everything is kept. You need to be organised. How many times have I told you this? This could have been very embarrassing
Shubby Doo: Sorry sir
Baba: If it is work that is making you confused…

I apologised again, thanked him, disappeared through the gate and boarded my Virgin Atlantic flight to London.

The flight was fine. I called my younger brother to help me check in online for my British Airways connecting flight when I landed. He did. I got my bags within 10mins, said good bye to uncle and aunt sachs and headed for arrivals. I saw my older brother and we raced from T3 to T5.

I got there & started to repack some things into a new smaller case. My phone rang…it was my mother calling from Nigeria.

Shubby Doo: Hello Mãe
Mãe: My dear, how are u?
Shubby Doo: I’m fine Mãe. I got in safe at sound. We are at T5. I’m just repacking…I can’t talk but hold on
Mãe: Shubby Doo…Shubby Doo…wait…just listen…

I didn’t. I passed phone to my brother who explained that I had 10mins left to repack and drop my bags off.

Forewarning 5 – when my brother hung up he told me that my mother had said I was not to check in any of my bags because of the T5 fiasco.

Forewarning 6 – There was something wrong with the handle of the small suitcase so I had to take the bag to ‘oversize’...yes o! against my mother's correct advice, I checked in my small case (with my flat keys, my car keys et al).

Forewarning 7 – My brother told me to go through to the departure lounge straight away. I said I’d rather sit down, relax and jist small. I started telling him about my trip to Lagos.

With 30mins to go, I waved goodbye to my brother headed to security…the guy asked for my boarding pass. I gave it to him. He asked for ID. I handed over my driving license…I was still smiling and humming to myself in my head…yes o! I was humming I believe I can fly! He swiped my boarding pass…I stood there and waited for him to take my picture...to myself i thought strike a pose... lol...he still had not let me through security for my domestic flight...why? I gave him a puzzled look...he simply said “I’m sorry. Your boarding pass is invalid.”

Invalid ke? Not possible.

At the British Airways desk…they told me that I missed the 35mins deadline to get through security. None one told me that. My ticket conditions said check in 60mins prior the flight and baggage drop 45mins prior to the flight. British Airways didn’t care. Apparently they had already off loaded my case too. There was no way I was getting on that flight.

The test had failed...or maybe I had failed the test...

I sighed. I called my colleagues and told them not to come to Manchester airport to pick me up. I wouldn’t be there.

I went down to baggage reclaim to get my case… it was still in the system and they were trying to find it. They couldn’t estimate when I would get it. I was weak...

The guy at the desk felt sorry for me…he kept telephoning people to help…they kept saying they weren’t trained to use the system to check for my case...how?! My blood began to boil...

I needed to be in Manchester for 8am tomorrow. I could catch a coach to my place and then drive. No…I didn’t have my flat or car keys! Any fix to my dilemma needed something I had packed away in the case that was now lost in the system. I should have listened to my Ma’a.

I called my boss and told him I had missed my flight…could I take a hire car?…he said yes but as it was now 8pm I should consider taking a taxi to Manchester instead…I was to find a way to get to Manchester by all means.

At 8:30pm I got a text from my boss saying ‘I hope you are enjoying having the time to inspect T5’s excellent baggage system’…I swear if he wasn’t the company director I would have called him and finished him…

By now tears were welling up in my eyes but I was too tired to cry. I was emotional and cranky. I was about to explode and I needed an outlet for my frustration that wouldn’t land me in jail.

I wanted to call home...‘Home’, when my siblings & I are talking to each other, automatically means our parents place…I moved out right after I graduated and now live just outside London.

But I didn’t call home...my ears started ringing with my father’s foreboding voice from earlier… I don’t do ‘I told you so’ very well.

My brother called me at 9pm...had I landed safe and sound? I said yes...irrational I know but I just couldn't tell him what was going on without breaking down...

At 9:30pm…I gave the guy at the British Airways baggage reclaim desk my work address so that they could deliver my case there…he said it would get there the next day…yeah right!…It actually arrived 2 days later! To keep me calm he started trying to console me…I would get my bag back…a lady yesterday had waited for her bags but she got them back after 3 hours…opari!…my blood pressure started rising again.

At 9:45pm…the British Airways desk at T5 closed and I still didn’t have my luggage.

I called a number of taxi companies… it would be about £450 to get to Manchester…Since I had cleared it with my boss I knew the company were going to pay me back but saying yes meant I would have to get cash out of my account and wait 1 month to be paid back. No way!

At this point I have to thank the guy at the baggage reclaim desk…he had called a taxi firm British Airways use and priced it down to £240…I called the number and booked the taxi. It arrived at 10:45pm.

I called my colleague in manchester...I wanted him to tell the hotel that I was still coming…I didn’t want to get there and find I had nowhere to sleep. Plus I sent him a text with the car registration number of the taxi that had picked me up…if anything happened to me the driver would at least stand trial…if not go to jail. Plus I came right out & told the taxi driver what I’d done and why I had done it lest he got any funny ideas…

I got to the hotel in Manchester at 01:45am.

This is the clincher…with no change of clothes I went to the presentation in the same clothes I’d been wearing the day before…can you imagine?!...I’m a consultant, participating in a whole day presentation with our biggest client...potentially this alliance could bring in 10s of millions (sterling) for us annually...everybody else was looking sharp in their suits but I turn up in low rise blue jeans and a ‘off the shoulder’ white and pink pokerdot top! Oh…the shame!!! I took off the hoop earrings sha!

I called a close family friend of mine to recount this tale to her…this is why I love her to bits:

The Doctor: My sista, welcome back. how now? How was naij?
Shubby Doo: I dey o! That part was fine. It was the journey back. Heathrow T5...
The Doctor: Sounds ominous…what happened?
Shubby Doo: They bounced me...can you imagine?...said I needed to be through security 35mins before my flight. I was 5mins late. They no even give me face
The Doctor: Walai…they did that to me too…I lost over £200 and had buy another ticket to Scotland
Shubby Doo: Kai! Pele my dear but why didn’t you tell me? When?
The Doctor: About 6 weeks ago. Walai talai. I was traumatised by the whole thing. I wanted to start rushing about to see if I could get on the next flight to get to work the next day but then I thought there is no need. No need at all. They will survive without me. Life will go on.

Now why didn’t I think of that?!!

Read more...