Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Physical Fitness

Sometime ago, while I was still doing my NYSC, it was decided by top management at my place of primary assignment that the lifts would no longer carry persons to or from the first floor. This policy was instituted with a view to ensuring that staff got some regular exercise at the office, since many people were way too tired to use the various gyms the company had partnered with. It was also believed that this new fitness regime would improve staff performance, and so on and so forth.

Needless to say that I, at the time was more than willing to use the stairs for a few reasons:
1. I was young and strong;
2. The lifts could often be a hinderance rather than a help; and
3. My office was on the first floor.

Of course, not everyone could comfortably play "spring chicken", and you'd find a few people at their desks and blowing like whales, or queues at the water fountain, as staff desperately tried to rehydrate themselves. And, naturally, the big ogas with first floor offices still used the lifts.

Well, if top management knew then what we found out today, there would have been a very simple incentive to physical fitness - the presence of the EFCC.

Iyabo Obasanjo-Bello has been engaged in a war of words with the EFCC since it was revealed that she collected some cash out of the 300 million Naira health ministry palaver, for which the heads of the minster and minister-of-state duly rolled. When the trial of the accused persons began, Iyabo was named as an accused person, but failed to show up in court. When the EFCC announced that she was on the run, she hit back, calling them liars. Recently, she bragged that she was ready for them.

Reports emerged today indicating that while EFCC officers were waiting to arrest her, Senator Iyabo Obasanjo-Bello, a woman who can hardly be described as a Marion Jones in her prime, evaded capture by going over the back fence of her Jabi residence. This event leaves a lot open to the imagination. You see, Iyabo is not noted for a physical nature, and seeing as she never embarked on a mountain climbing exercise like the "Action Governor" Lucky Igbinedion, one must wonder how she developed her technique. It is not yet known which high jump method she may or may not have utilised in making her escape, and it has also not yet been revealed whether a ladder or pole vault was discovered at the scene. All that is known is that the EFCC came in the front door, and Iyabo went over the back fence. One can only imagine the amused/frustrated looks on the faces of the cops at that moment. Frustration because she got away, and amusement because of how she got away.

No doubt, various men and women of high standing (and who may or may not become EFCC targets in future) are taking note of this, which shall soon become known as The Iyabo Method. Baba, on receiving the news of his daughter's narrow escape from the clutches of the monster he created, might have cringed in embarrasment at the idea of his child scaling a fence like a common crook, but then again, knowing Baba, he would probably have smiled with pride at her ingenuity.

Next time, however, she might not be so lucky...

Monday, April 07, 2008

3 Strikes

Ed's Note: The Law has not finally lost his marbles, and is fervently praying neither of the people mentioned in a previous post reads this, or The Law might be in need of a coffin...

I sometimes wonder if Cupid, or whichever mad scientist runs the relationships department operates a sort of reverse 3 Strikes policy. As in, 3 Strikes and you're out for good. You see, I've had 3 great loves in my life, each one stronger than the last. And for anyone completely aware of me history reading this, K doesn't count because she was, well, puppy love.

So, here they are, in chronological order.

A: I first met her at a friend's birthday party in my first year in the University. To say she outshone the other young ladies at the event would be a gross understatement. Next to her, they were candles. I didn't fall in love with her at first sight though. I don't believe in such fruppery. Although if I am honest, it took about 30 seconds. Nano seconds, that is. Well, I wasn't a very confident fellow back in those days, so I pulled out all the reasons she'd never go out with me, namely there were richer, finer guys, etc, and beat them into my brains so much I accepted them as dogma. What a fool I was. I contented myself with seeing her only occasionally, even though each time I laid eyes on her, my heart would literally stop. I kept telling myself it was good to be friends with her because I could never be more. I was such a coward. Out of fear of rejection, I never did a damn thing. I wish I had a time machine, I'd go back and ram a red hot poker or a 600 volt cattle prod up my own behind. And so, the time passed, and the feelings diminished, and faded from an acute ache to a dull throb. And I congratulated myself for surviving. Some days, I feel I shall go to my grave with her as my one greatest regret.

V: V broke me out of my funk over A. She was about 12 metric tons of fun, with a sense of humor that was totally out of this world. When she came along, I decided to apply the lessons learnt from A, and screwed my courage to the sticking place. I spoke up. Man, oh man. Well, she decided we'd better be friends, and I guess she was looking for a guy with a lot more, ahem, experience. She then decided to set me up with a friend of her's who, apparently, was as bewildered with her decision as I was. Well, I took that on the chin. I and V are still friends today, and with hindsight, perhaps this turned out well.

B: B... B... B... Chxta is aware of all the details on this one. When I met B in law school, I was sure that I'd finally found "the one". She got me (something no one else managed before or since). She understood my sense of humor, which could sometimes appear from way out in left field. When I talked to her, I never had that subconscious feeling that I should lower my intellectual standards. Heck, with her I actually felt I needed to raise them! For her, I would have sold my soul with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. For her, I would have fought armies of dragons and legions of devils. If my previous loves were conflagrations, she was the core of a blue supergiant. And boy, did she roast me. Before her, I had no idea what it was like to be owned by someone else. She was the source of my greatest joy, and the source of my greatest pain. Before her, I didn't know that pain could cleave you in two just as surely as a broadsword. She pushed me to the very brink of sanity, and that is no joke. I strongly believe that if I didn't end up in Uselu in December 2005, there is nothing else life can throw at me. Because she was the kitchen sink. And perhaps I did lose my mind, because as I sit here typing this, I realise that even with the foreknowledge of how things would turn out with her, I'd do it all over again, and I'd do it again gladly.

So, there they are. But given the fact that the last ball went smack into me arm, can't I get a fourth? Or shouldn't I be allowed to take my base?

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I love my country, enjoy a cold beer once in a while, rabidly support Arsenal FC, but I don't get Diet Coke...