Things are changing

On Saturday morning, I picked up a letter in braille, addressed to me by an official of our city council. If I’m correct, he’s been in post, at least since 1992, when I had cause to actually meet him and call him on a number of occasions.

He had refused to send me some communication in braille, and I was furious. To prove to him that we all use different reading methods, I sent him a letter in braille; he sent it back saying he couldn’t read it, but he still didn’t change his mind.

When I picked this letter, addressed in his name, I thought how things had changed since then. I don’t know if other blind people are thinking like I am, but I’ve noticed that the private companies are now slower to send me braille things than government bodies. It used to be the other way round. When I came to England, I didn’t even know I could get things in braille until there was a problem with my bank account and a bank official wondered why I hadn’t asked for my bills in braille. The banks still send me braille bills. But I’ve had to remind some other utility companies so often recently. It’s one of the things I hate about changing utility companies. After months, we’re still having the same conversation, they’re still promising to send my statements in braille, and at the slightest opportunity, (maybe after they’ve managed to send two or three) they forget again, and we start the process all over again. I actually returned to a utility company that used to supply my bills in a timely manner before. Since last year, I haven’t seen a braille bill. I reminded them they used to do this very well before, they promised to send them. I’ve stopped caring now, I just dump their letters on a ledge next to my frontdoor. It’s piled up with letters now.

Hey! My city council hasn’t failed to send me braille material in the past 3 years. It’s wonderful!

Recent news stories

I’d been thinking of this for a while. It started as I listened to BBC 5live one evening and the financial reporter came on briefly before the news. He said share prices had gone up and there was a cheer in the studio. You’d have thought that the guests and presenter each had huge shares and they’d been watching the news. But it’s all because economic news has been so gloomy lately, that one bit of good news had to raise a cheer.

Hey! But what do I know about these economic indicators? At about the same time, the World Food Programme was taking place. Some top official had been interviewed on the BBC World Service. He’d said the advanced countries needed to invest some staggering amount in developing countries, to avoid a food disaster. The interviewer asked if that was possible, giving the current levels of investment, and general reluctance of advanced countries … you know, promises that were not kept, … that sort of thing? He said it had to be possible if these same advanced countries kept spending so much more on arms.

Of course, the main topic of the interview was the presence of Robert Mugabe at the meeting. What was he doing there the interviewer asked? In reply our WFP official said he’s the head of state and (not in so manhy words) they need him there.

Mugabe certainly enjoyed his moment, using the opportunity of a rare trip to Europe, (where he is universally condemned by leaders) to condemn the West for wrecking his country, (presumably without his assistance). Apparently, Western disapproval is solely responsible for the mass starvation and superinflation in Zimbabwe. I’m sure Western leaders will soon be queueing up to invite him for a visit after such ringing endorsements.

But let’s get back to food. The UN Secretary-General wants 50 times more investment in African agriculture. MSF are predicting that Ethiopia is set for another crisis, as a result of rising food prices. So, that one bit of good news on the stock prices front was probably worth a huge cheer after all.

Interestingly, I’m so rubbish at stocks and shares that I haven’t even checked to see that the trend has continued. What I have observed though is food prices. I recently went to my local store and found the price of my breakfast cereal of choice had risen from 2.59 to 2.79. I was really unhappy especially because not too long ago, there had been a special offer on if you bought two packets. That set me thinking, and I soon realised that the prices of several other things had gone up lately. Soon, I’d have to remortgage to afford my shopping bill. But where? Aren’t all these banks suffering financial hardships too? Bradford and Bingley has just had an American investor in to save them from the plight of Northern Rock.

Apparently, all these unrelated news stories are actually the result of one factor, the rising price of oil. It’s blamed for everything, and when I compare the prices two years ago to current prices, I have to admit there’s something in the argument. It’s so serious that the BBC World Service held a 1 hour discussion on this issue on their ‘Have Your Say’ programme yesterday. So, go on, what do you all think of the oil price rise?

What do I think? First that the Oil producing countries have achieved what they failed to do for political reasons in the 70s. When they had the two oil embargoes, they probably brought the West to start thinking of alternative sources, to label OPEC a political, not an economic organisation, etc. But that was temporary. Soon, there was even an oil glut, the beginnings of Nigeria’s economic woes. Now that we all know that it’s not some political vendetta on the part of OPEC, we have all these top economists and experts scratching their heads and wondering why nobody had heeded the warnings that we were all getting too dependent on oil.

I heard an oil expert say recently that oil is indeed running out, and there is not much room for overcapacity. My simple mind asked if the demand for oil suddenly shot up? I thought the projections were for about 2020? And if our projections had been for 2008, then how come we weren’t warned earlier?

My second thought; Nigeria must be bringing in the cash now. Why don’t we hear about huge development projects like we did in the 70s when there was an oil boom? We don’t even know what the country is planning to do with all the money it’s making. Is it being saved? Used to pay all the debts that were cancelled a few years ago? Or perhaps someone has thought up the clever idea that at last, it’s time to repair our damaged refineries?

Meanwhile, that remortgage isn’t a bad idea, when you consider the prices of food, (which I eat a lot of) and of gas and electricity. I even hear that fuel prices in the pumps have gone up. I haven’t experienced that one yet, because I don’t have a car … good news for all my neighbours and the inhabitants of our good city.

Apparently, Yahoo Hotjobs is running a story on how workers can reduce commuting costs. Well, walk, take public transport, … that’s what I do. So when you’re late for something, you won’t blame the traffic, just the appalling public transport facilities, and horrible drivers who won’t let you cross the roads unless the traffic lights tell them to stop, or even the surprising walking distance between your ouse and where you were going, which you hadn’t calculated when you decided to leave your home five minutes before your appointment.

I’m back … already?

See! I told you!

Only a short one to say that Jeremy sent me a link to Nigerian proverbs. I haven’t fully explored it, maybe you might want to.

Jeremy is a mind of information. I remember when someone first told me that if I was looking for a number in church, he was the one to ask. Oh, here’s the link.

New friends and old ones

You know, it’s been a long time. I’ve spent a lot of the time meeting up with new friends.

In March, it was the International Conference of Nigerian Students. Wow! How many new faces? XN Foundation is doing great. The interest generated by participants of ICONS was wonderful. They’re keeping me on my toes, making me send newsletters, contact people, etc. Actually, it’s great fun, because I’ve made several friends, … one in particular.

In April, we had Whirlwind’s Easter show. Of course, you can’t call it the Easter show anymore, because of the changes in the British school term. Let’s just call it the holiday show. That was great too. It was the fullest one week programme we’d ever had. Normally, for the shorter programmes, we usually have a maximum of 15 people. Not this time. We had 30 (I think) and several of them had never been before. As usual, there were great reviews afterwards. I even had the chance to award stars (that’s this year’s version of the green stickers, for those who have been following my adventures with Whirlwind). And most of them promised to be back in Summer for the three week programme. If they do register, we’ll be full in no time, I think our capacity is 40. Maybe by then, I’d have resumed regular blogging.

Actually, I will soon. I was reminded by an old friend. Yes, I’ve been meeting them too. Morakinyo was with me in KC. He’d seen several things about me and sent me two emails, to two different addresses. Both found me, and after my response, he actually called this week. Now that was great. So people are reading this? I’ll be more careful what I write now, check the punctuation, … grammar … even the information. Or better still, I’ll write more often. Moraks asked when I last wrote something here. To my shame, I said a long time ago.

He’s doing great. He’s a Redemed pastor in Maryland, (the Nigerian version)with a wife and two children. Isn’t that just fantastic? I’ll visit when I come to Nigeria. You know, we were in the same dorm and we even played football together, when he wasn’t busy scoring the top grades in his class or playing football for Paynes House. I remember telling Ose how loyal Moraks was, … this was before he called. My bucket never disappeared from under my bed without Moraks going to the ends of the school to retrieve it. We were teenagers then, now he’s married with two children, running his firm and pastoring a church.

And this evening, (now that should be yesterday) I got another email, this time from Idy. I once went to meet Tutu at Heathrow; she was arriving from Nigeria. Actually, she hadn’t boarded the plane that day, she’d been harrassed by the police till she missed the flight. I didn’t know of course, because I was already on the train to London. As I waited and waited, this lady helped me, checked with the flight, did everything. She worked at the information desk. When I just waited, she’d come over, just to see that I was fine. We kept in touch for a while, then lost touch. And this evening, (oh that was yesterday again) She got back in touch. By the way, did I tell you that our first meeting was in 2000?

To all the new friends, … and the old ones too, thanks for staying in touch.

Winter Hibernation?

OK, I waited till well past April fool’s day before writing again. I remember thinking on Tuesday that if I wrote something, nobody would believe it was me. Actually, I wasn’t in much of a position to write, having spent the night on the London bound coach and returned by rail, the most expensive way to travel. You have to buy two single tickets for a return journey.

Sometime ago, I’d woken up to the sounds of birds and thought “ah! winter is over”. It’s great. Then I’d remembered that I hadn’t written anything here in ages. I don’t even have the excuse of the birds or animals. I didn’t fly anywhere, didn’t sleep through the winter.

If I’d learned public relations, I might have told you all about ICONS2008. I think it went well; it was in Hull and everyone said they enjoyed it … that is, everyone who attended. Despite the fact that we contacted more universities, we still didn’t have the explosion of numbers we dreamed. But we had some sensational speakers and a really enthusiastic bunch of delegates. They’re still bombarding me with emails. If you want to find out how it went, the photos will soon be out, but you can check the website now for details of speakers, etc.

Just before ICONS2008, IOA Consults was finally launched. That was March 1. I asked everyone who knew about it to just pray in their homes for prosperity and God’s grace and guidance. Thanks, it’s looking good, but don’t stop praying. Do you know, that’s one of the three things I prayed about at the beginning of the year? The other two are looking good too. The website is up, but I have a lot of changes to make. Thanks first to Sam and to Seun for tremendous help.
www.ioaconsults.com

It was good to hear Rinehart Bunke at the Festival of Life, (known to Nigerians as the Holy Ghost Night). He said how he’d started small, and how he now preaches to millions, telling people of all faiths and races about the love of Jesus. He talked about Pentecost. He said the fact that the Holy Spirit gave the disciples utterance in every language demonstrates that the gospel is for all nations. He said his son-in-law is a pastor and was once joking that he (Rinehart) was getting old and should be handing over to the young. To which he replied that he’s like a 747. It’s fastest at the end of the runway. You never see the brakes going on just before takeoff.

I’d better start writing about this big project, the annual conference of the OFNC. The chair of the organising committee is from our branch, so we’re heavily involved. We plan to introduce changes. I hope it’s a great conference. Speaker is George Adegboye. Check the website.

Have I been sleeping off the winter? Hardly. In fact, as I look at the clutter on my table, I’m thinking, “I need to get back to work quickly”. Actually, the past few weeks have been some fun. Ah, but then, … later.

Hey! I’ve said happy new year to everyone except you. Can you imagine that? Well, I suppose it’s not too late. Someone says you should stop saying Happy new year on 6th January, so I’ve missed it by a few hours. But I’m sure it won’t make the year less happy for you.

You know, these customs! Someone also said that it’s on that day that you take off your Christmas decorations. Well, what few decorations I had up were taken down at least three days ago … great crime that!

I’ve always been very bad at writing letters, diaries, … blogs, etc. It would have been too much to expect me to write “Merry Christmas” and a “happy new year”. Two messages within a week of each other? I’m sure that most people hadn’t got over Christmas before the new year. Spare a thought for Nigerians and other multi-faith countries. A week before Christmas, they were celebrating one of the Ids. Apologies to my muslim friends, because I don’t know which one. Oh to be in Nigeria, three public holidays in three weeks.

Which reminds me, On my Christmas day walk, (see last post) I was thinking. you know that song, “Do They Know It’s Christmas”? It’s an interesting song. It was written for the famine victims of Ethiopia. I can’t speak for any Christians in Ethiopia and I hope we never get that in Nigeria. But I’m sure that Christians in Nigeria would know that it was Christmas, whether they were dying of hunger or not.

I suppose it depends on what we think of as Christmas. Is it about the tree? I decorated my house with what I can only call a Christmas shrub, which I bought from Wilkinson’s for 1 pound, about three years ago. It got out of its hiding place on Christmas eve and returned shortly after the new year. There could never have been room for a present under that. Or is it about all the shopping?

Thanks for the song, but I think that Christians in Ethiopia would probably have realised it was Christmas. And even if Ethiopia is a very prosperous country, I don’t think they’ll celebrate Christmas in the way the famed song writers expect.

See, that should have been part of the Merry Christmas thing. I only remembered it because I was listening to my answerphone a few days ago. Sometimes I don’t get to it on time. Someone left a message. Maybe it was an accidental call, you know those ones, when your mobile dials a number and you don’t know about it. But I heard no voices, just the song “Do they know it’s Christmas” Or maybe it was God reminding me about what I was thinking about.

Oh I forgot, it’s the new year. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be writing about? It’s a time for new beginnings, for new hopes, for new goals, a time to forget about past hurts and disappointments. That’s what everyone says. Is it true? I’ve got a friend, her name is Ife. She’s gone to Nigeria to start a new job. I suppose she’s begun the job now, probably on 2 Jan. Aloted has also returned to get married. Wow! What special new years they’re having.

I’ve got three major goals this year. Please pray for me. They’re tough; God once sent a message to the Israelites; I think it was around the time the temple was being rebuilt. “It’s not by power, not by might, but by My spirit”. They’re tough goals, but that’s what I’m holding onto.

So, it’s a time for new beginnings. God says “I’m doing a new thing”. But I also think it’s a time to continue in the great things that happened last year. Not the bad things mind. I think bad things have their time span, and on January 1, someone asked me again why bad things happen. I’m not ready to provoke a debate, but I said at least two reasons. I talked about the things I always read about, that trials make you grow. It’s even in the Bible, in James, 1 Peter, etc. Then I said that the truth is that the devil exists, and he puts trials in our way. We’ve all read of Job, and we read the encouraging part that God knew his strengths and God did not allow the devil to test him beyond his will. Jesus once said to Peter that satan had asked that he, (Peter) might be sifted like wheat. But Jesus said “I have prayed for you”. Once when I read that, I was so uplifted by the fact that Jesus had Peter’s welfare in mind. But there was more; he said that When Peter had overcome his difficulties, he would lead the disciples. It was not by Peter’s might or power, but by God’s spirit.

I’m wandering off again. Wasn’t I supposed to be writing about continuing in the good of last year? The Bible often reads like a fairy tale. You know, all the good guys always win, after they’ve gone through some difficulty. Joseph, Daniel, Moses, Peter, Paul, even Abraham. If there’s a formula, it must be that they go through their difficulties, still trusting in God. Those difficulties never last, but the greatness of these Bible characters is still being talked about, even this morning as I write. So we need to throw away the bad things of the last year, but not the good, because it’s the good things that last.

And there are many new things that await us this year. I wait with eager expectation for the great things God’s laid out for me. This morning, (or should I say yesterday morning) there was a specific word in church which I believe applied to me, and which talked about success after several failures. I’m holding onto it.

Oh by the way, I wish you all a fantastic new year, rich in blessings, joy and God’s love. And my friend Sylvester Ogbolu, a Nigerian living in Addis Ababa wrote to the Voice of America, requesting a song for me. It’s Christmas day today in the Ethiopian churches. So, on the 25th of December, they probably don’t know it’s Christmas after all. But what about today?

Every Christmas is different. This year, I learnt all the words to “Hark the Herald Angels Sing”. In the past I used to stumble through verses 2 and 3, until we got to “Born that man no more may die”. This year, I could sing every line of every verse, even “offspring of a virgin’s womb”. Wow!

I suppose it helped that we sang it everywhere I went. Somehow, I don’t recall singing that many carols this year. On the Gospel hour, I’d been playing carols for four weeks before Christmas, but I didn’t sing that many. And because I knew the words, I could think of them a little more, think of the angels singing Glory to the newborn King, of His purpose on earth, of the miraculous nature of His birth. I listen to a lot of contemporary Christian music, but those old songs still have great messages.

Again, on Christmas day, I did the usual things, but in different ways. Since 2004, I’ve held a party for Nigerian students at my house. We did it again this year. I had cause later to reflect on how different each party is. in 2004, we had a great time arguing Nigerian politics, with a focus on the Niger Delta. 2005 was quieter, but 2006 was a real party. We danced and danced, as I experimented with my laptop connections to the hi-fi. This year, we had a great time too, lots of food, political talk and Nigerian showbiz gossip. Then all 12 of us watched two movies.

I reflected on the different years as I took my annual stroll through the quiet streets of Lancaster. This year was later than usual, because we’d had such a good time, the party finished late. No matter how different it was, we all shared the same thing in common, we want to enjoy Christmas. One of the students said how different Christmas is in Nigeria. In England, all the noise happens up till Christmas eve. In Nigeria, everyone’s outside; the Christians in church in the morning and everyone visiting family and friends in the evening. They didn’t understand until that morning why I’d insisted that I needed to know numbers so they could get lifts; I kept telling them that there’d be no buses, that taxis will be running at double time, and that others will be sacrificing time to pick them up.

You know why I like to stroll through Lancaster on Christmas day? It’s so quiet that you could dance in the middle of the road. It’s such a contrast; on Christmas eve, I joined the throng looking for last minute stuff. I even went to those supermarkets that’d be closed for two days, to get their reduced cold foods, etc. It’s a mad rush on Christmas eve, someone might even think the country is about to be invaded and everyone’s picking up last minute stores. But from about 4 PM, all shops begin to close, and by the evening, the city is quiet. Everyone’s indoors.

My last Christmas in Nigeria was 1992, and I still remember the differences. On Saturday, I remarked to some people that Jesus came for all. At His birth, there were humble shepherds and the wisest men. In His life, he met lepers, tax collectors, fishermen and even converted pharisees. So, it really doesn’t matter if we have a quiet Christmas or a rowdy one. Ian, my pastor (who doesn’t like being called Pastor Ian) always says there’d be a multi-ethnic heaven. I think so too. There’d be a multi character heaven, a multi language heaven; the only thing that won’t be is a multifaith heaven. For it does say that every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.

Merry Christmas

I met an amazing woman on Sunday

I spent last weekend away from home. I’d been invited by a pastor to visit his church on Sunday morning. In the evening, we went to a pub to sing them some Christmas carols. I’d been invited to sing a few songs, say a few words, etc. In fact, the first miracle was that I could sing; if you’d heard my voice on the previous Tuesday, heard me coughing, and seen the expression of pain as each cough exacerbated my terribly sore throat, you’d have decided I couldn’t sing by the next weekend. But I did, thank God, to only a few coughs.

At the end, I spoke to this amazing lady. Three or four things struck me. First, her son. She has a son whom she so adored. You know as she talked about him, how everyone loves him, how everyone said he was so well mannered and she so lucky, how he so loved him in return … it was so touching. She told me of how he’d sat on her lap the other day and just touched her cheek. She said they were so close, it was as though they were really one, not two separate individuals. I actually had a thought I was too scared to voice, that should anything happen to this boy, she’d have nothing else to lean on.

Then she told me of her man. They’ve been together for two years now and they’ll get married at some point. He’s the love of her life too, and all she ever wants is her son and her man.

Then she told me of her sister who works for the Lord in some capacity. She doesn’t understand these things, but she’s so full of pride for her sister. Apparently, this lady’s been in the newspapers for her work ferrying drunken late night revellers home at the end of their adventures in the nightclubs. When she heard of our event, she texted her sister to ask if she knew about these happy clappers who were coming to invade her pub. Her sister didn’t know, but when they talked, the one sound advice she gave was that it must be from the Holy Spirit, or she shouldn’t even get involved.

Now, here’s where I get confused. She said her sister’s so wonderful. She knows why. I just kept wondering, if her sister’s so wonderful, why doesn’t she want some of that wonderfulness. She said she was so content. Sadly however, she had an accident and lost a baby. I think that accident has caused her some permanent physical injury. One day, at this same pub, her sister came with some friends. They prayed for her and she said she had such an amazing 24 hours, she’d never felt so good. So I asked if she’d liked that time so much, and it was so temporary, doesn’t she want it to be permanent?

At this point she goes back to talking about her sister. Her sister’s really wonderful, but she doesn’t preach to her. She does drop DVDs when she visits, in the certainty that they’ll be watched; and they are. Maybe I’m beginning to make her feel uncomfortable by telling her about permanent joy. But I don’t stop, because I still can’t work it out. I still can’t understand why she sees something better, but is content where she is.

To tell the truth, I wasn’t the confident preacher. I just kept going back to the things I didn’t understand about her story, and each time I did, she baffled me even more. Maybe I should have given her the scriptures about being a Christian; I didn’t. In any case, she has enough DVDs to tell her that. I simply told the pastor who’d invited me and a few others around the area to keep praying for her. Actually, she had a friend in that church. She thinks her friend is wonderful too.

Well, what more can I say? I’m still praying for you.

Provoking Damola

I’ve been reading through my most recent posts and noticed I’ve written Damola’s name several times. She’s my cousin and she lives in Nigeria. She has a great habit of reading every posting and commenting on the telephone or via email. Doesn’t she want you to see what she’s thinking?

I’m doing this at great personal risk, but I’ve decided that we need to know who Damola is. If you agree, please comment here. I’m sure she’ll see it one day soon. I’m expecting her to scream down the phone or via email, but if the protests are long and loud enough, she might be tempted to write a line.

Actually, I haven’t heard from her in a while. Last time I thought she was hiding, I discovered that she was ’serving’. She’d gone on the 4 week orientation that Nigerians go for after university. It precedes a year of working for minimal pay in the service of the fatherland, or if you’re well connected, in the service of some institution that will further progress your career.

But she’s back now, and still hiding. Actually, so am I. I haven’t written here for a while, and I haven’t rung her. But here’s my chance to cause some trouble, and I’m enjoying it tremendously.

It was exactly a month ago

All right, it’s been a while. Despite my promise to keep in touch. I’ve done a really bad job about it.

The year is coming to an end now. Damola was right, (check my last post) I was about to turn 40. I did exactly a month ago, on 10 November. It was fun.

I remember walking into church on Sunday 11 November. I usually arrive early for the worship group meeting. As I entered church that morning, I noticed it was quiet. Then I walked through the door, and suddenly, the place erupted with “happy birthday to you!” I was about to turn and run, but they’d anticipated it, someone was behind me to block my exit.

No, it wasn’t on that day, it was the day before. That Sunday morning only capped a fantastic weekend. When I woke up on the morning of the 10th, I knew something would happen. How? I’d threatened to travel that weekend, and everyone had raised such a storm of protest, I just knew that it would be rude to leave. In any case, I’d only slept 4 hours. I was still taking calls after 1 AM. My dad had been sending texts 9 hours before the day. And as for Damola, she rang at midnight Nigerian time, which was still 11 PM here; well, I was born in Nigeria after all.

So I got up at 5 AM to phone calls, and they just didn’t stop. I remember a call from my friend Vanessa in Exeter. She just kept wishing she could be around to spend the day with me, and I just kept telling her thanks, but it would be impossible. The engineering works on the rail network, all that. But she wouldn’t stop saying how she’d have loved to just spend the day with me. I found out later that she was part of the conspiracy. She knew something was afoot, and she just couldn’t be there.

Oh I do call it a conspiracy. It was real intrigue, the stuff of spy stories. I’ve tried to piece it all together. Even now, I haven’t managed to say thanks to all those who were involved. My own detective work has been good too, but only after the event. There seems to have been three independent groups working together. One spearheaded by Anthonia in London. She doesn’t know many of my friends here, but she knows Olu Ojedokun in Nottingham who knows a lot of Lancaster folk. So, they approach the Lancaster people. They had their own plans too. But a few days before the day, both groups discovered that the students at the uni had a plan for a surprise party of their own. So everyone combined to totally encircle me. Honest, that’s exactly how it was, a circle of love, surrounding me and ensuring I had the time of my life. You can’t imagine how many people were detailed to find out what my plans were, and to prevent me from leaving Lancaster.

I still like to think I rumbled the plan to organise a surprise. But that didn’t stop me from feeling like a major celebrity. Students I’d only known for a month were planning a surprise party for me! Anthonia left her husband and 4 children in London and came for the day to Lancaster. Olu Ojedokun made a triangular trip; as regional manager of Friends International, he’s a very busy man; he left Nottingham, came north to Lancaster, then went further south to London for a weekend engagement. The MC was British Council international student of the year 2006-2007, Akanimo Odon. There were so many people who are my inspiration, turning out to say I am their inspiration.

The cake was baked in the shape of a piano keyboard! The head of catering runs the local African food store! The sheer numbers of people that were involved! You know, friends from all over the country told me later that when they were asking me what I’d be doing that weekend, they were reporting to the organisers! My minders were a brother and sister, living in my house while they sorted out their accommodation.

And then, there were the calls! They just didn’t stop coming, all through the weekend. Those who knew of the surprise party but couldn’t make it called, first in the morning to wish me a happy birthday, then in the evening to hope I was enjoying the surprise. I got calls from everywhere, from people I hadn’t spoken to in years.

My dad, Yemisi, Akin and Bibi must have rung at least 6 times each. Damola, probably 4 or five. First just to wish me a happy birthday, then when they learnt that something was happening, to get regular progress reports.

It’s nice to hear such nice things said about me. Sometimes I didn’t recognize myself. So thanks to you all, because the truth is that the last time I organised a party for myself was in 2001 when I graduated. I even arranged for someone to cook some food, but I forgot to tell people I was holding a party. I had such good party food to eat for weeks after that.

So, now you understand why I feel like a superstar. Thank God for you all!Thanks for everything! I still can’t get over it.