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Wednesday, 26 October 2016

I LOVE-D YOU


My eyes bled when you left.
Right before our callousness, our memories faded like blue.
My heart couldn't remember the rhythm of our love.
The nooks of my heart that your love like yeast puffed up melted like ice.

I don't pray for your sky to be ill Or wish for your indifference to heal.
I want you to mourn this gift we couldn't keep.
I rather you mourn this 'thing' that we once had.

Love is not sick, we are.
Time didn't put us here, we did.
It was funny we needed victory but couldn't swallow the war.
It is still funny.

I'm not sorry that you couldn't stay.
I'm not sorry that I was too much for you.
I'm not sorry for you.
I'm only sorry that I believed you when you said we could work.
I'm sorry I loved you in full when you could only receive in bits.
I'm sorry.

Sunday, 4 September 2016

BROKEN CRAYONS STILL COLOUR


I've gat to learn this 'happy new month' thing o. I've missed you too. The Green Sheriffs did their first online exhibition from 26th August-2nd September. It was lit! Here's my contribution.

...   ...   ...   ...   ...   ...   ...   ...  ...  ...   ...
Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men
Couldn’t Humpty Dumpty together again
-  (LEWIS CARROLL’S Alice through the looking glass)

The way I see it, we all have our not so lighted side, the sides that still retain scars and stitches from our infamous brokenness. It gets sewn into us, into the very fabric of our person and like marriage, we become one with it. No doubt it costs us an arm and a leg.  Our feigned smiles and pathetic laughter do a nice piece of makeup job. It often makes up the blood and sweats that drips from our story. If you ask me, I think it makes us thick…yeah, I know you didn’t ask.

You see, we are humans and the offspring our fathers. We do well almost the only thing we’ve been taught; to fix everything that is broken around us…to try to fix them. But not all broken stuffs can be fixed. Not all should be fixed. It is not true that when it’s broken it is bad. It is fallacy that when it can’t be fixed it is useless. That it is hopeless. For that is the problem, the needless search for what already is. There’s hope for brokenness. There’s virtue in brokenness. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men shouldn’t bother fixing. I like the thought my colleague, Taygeeree holds about it. She says that broken crayons still colour. I couldn’t agree more!

Back in Ezoti primary school, I particularly loved whole color paints (crayons), kind of the way short girls love tall boys. To me, they were beautiful until they broke, then I’ll cast and bind them into least accessible region of my red back pack. The ugliness that was when it was broken distracted me from seeing the glory of what could become my painting. To me, it was damaged’. It was funny because right before my eyes, Eseosa (that boy sha) made the blood of the colour paints bleed into colourful pictures. He often annoyingly said that they were even easier to use. As I write this now, I realize that the problem was not with the ‘damaged’ colour paints, but with me. Unlike me, Eseosa understood that crayons will not always come whole. But either ways, it colours.

Life will give you your own fair share of yawa, so get used to it. Maybe you’ve carefully arranged your dreams, career, business to name a few, and life just crashed in and broke them fairly bad. At some point, life will break you. It will hand you a tragedy, the kind you’ve only seen happened to Cinderella, Okonkwo and Mara&Clara. It is then up to you pick up your broken remain and write a sequel. Scare life and write a comedy. I know it’s broken, but it can still be used! Maybe, just maybe humpty dumpty ain’t gone after all.
...   ...   ...   ...   ...   ...   ...   ...  ...  ...   ...

Like I said before, I missed you too.

Friday, 5 August 2016

WHAT IS IN A DASH?


‘‘I’ll tell you a secret, something they don’t teach you in your temple. The gods envy us. They envy us because we‘re mortal, because any moment might be our last’’.
(Achilles speaking to Briseis in the movie Troy)

Please, I’ll need your help to answer this question. The opposite of death, is it live or birth? Don’t tell me that like mama Usunobun at Oba market, you are afraid when you hear about death? Come of it jor, because one day you’ll…never mind. It’s been 3days since this August, and there’s already so much to talk about. Edo state branch of NULGE protested on Wednesday, one slumped and died. Orubebe was on the news again today, not for good of course. I just salute how Hope, Mmesomer and Bibi never forget to remind me that’s it’s a new month. The rain is gradually quieting down or maybe it’s just me. My lousy neighbor says its august break. Iye once told me that when one talks too much, one would likely add lie. So you see why I don’t believe him. My old phone has this new bad habit, it goes off when I need it to be on and also stays off when I need it to be off. Yeah, it’s always off. I know I’m supposed to blame my village people, but BEDC ain’t no saint either.

Do you ever feel like your life is swallowing you up? Maybe, a little too fast? No enjoyment from life? I once read that it is sometimes worst that death. Trust me, I too think that it is an onyibo sickness. About death, I saw again on EBS, just before the evening news a gone-too-soon announcement. The family said that he’s forever in their heart, but that one nor concern me. This is what got me really thinking, it was simply written; 1988-2016. Can you imagine? A man’s full existence summarized like that. But really, what’s the summary of life? I guess it’s in dash! The way I see it, there are 3days in person’s life; the day they are born, the day they live and the day they die. In my thought, other people fill a date on when you are born and when you die but leave a dash on when you lived because only you can fill it.

This dash between birth and death day is quite different. It’s not the kind you find in your red English language reader asking you to fill in the blanks nor is it the dash you put before you explain the formation of Acetyl CoA (Prof. Bamikole sha). This DASH is the summary of your whole life. That day you finally take your first walk after a lot of omomo kege. The days you started and stopped crying about school. How you crushed on Atitinugo and experimented smoking with remain from the customers stick. That day you went on evangelism and prayed you marry a virgin. All the times life took and gave to you. The days you can’t remember and the ones you can’t forget. The dash is all that and more. The content of the dash differs. You see, people don’t cry for how you are born or die. They cry because they will miss how you lived-that’s why we don’t cry for strangers. I don’t mean to dash your hope and believe for a long life, but any moment can be your last. Our last, if it makes you feel any better.

My advice, start living deliberately! Stop photocopying people’s existence and moon walking your way through life. Pursue a dream with all your gut-however absurd. Gain mastery. Travel just to see snow and the ugly emu bird. Go on a mission. Give, take, and share. I’m sure you have your list…just go on and live. The beauty about living is that when you do, you give others the courage to do the same.





Wednesday, 3 August 2016

MAYBE IT'S YOU.


Frankly, I think this i-am-sorry-i-have-been-away thing is already too old. So, why don't we try something new? How about I gist you a bit of what I can say kept me away? You’ll like that, won’t you? Ermmm…I’m now in 400L. That’s final year for some people who ain’t going for Songhai. Yes, nah 1year remain for…so, let’s save the bottles for later. I was not with the crew that went in search for the moon, exams kept me. My exams was fine, thanks for asking...you were going to ask right? And one of my pretty sister lost her maiden name. Yeah, they said I am not supposed to cry. They said it’s a good thing. They said I’m your all grown up…like I was supposed to wait for a growing permit. Who else gets that often? One more thing¸ while I was away, I noticed everyone (including me) was blaming society for the several things they got wrong. That’s what I’m talking about today. Yeah, I’m happy to see you too.

I’m weary of listening or even hearing by chance the whining of gutless men and women. Those, who will take the slightest window to dodge responsibility for their poor choice. Anytime they succeed, even when it’s by pure luck, they’d say they took the risk, took impossible decisions, made sophisticated planned and this and that. But, when they fail at anything, someone is behind it! It has to be Iye and her gang of Azens (witches) and Osos (wizards). Pick a struggle my friend! I don’t wanna use this to dispute the Iye-factor. No! I just want us to think together. Aren’t we giving too much credit to society? More than they even deserve! My friend, the cause of your troubles is not and will not always be external! Think am nah!

Do you even listened  to yourself? Your 'valid' excuses? You blamed society for how bleached your skin into snow. When, your problem simply was a poor self image.  You blamed societal opinion for how you picked a course you never wanted and will never want study, hence the lack of drive. When, your only problem was your sac full of insecurity. Your blame your age and how society will raise their nose at you for how you ended in a leaking marriage. When, your problem was obviously inpatients and your nah-only-me-remain-wey-never-marry mentalit. Are you listening to yourself now? Should I remind you more? That’s how you got here. You are afraid, Irresponsible and a sissy. Are you offended? I’m not sorry. See, I know being responsible is not cheap, buy it's the only way.

Let me tell you some truth;
(1) when you choose your path (any path!), you become responsible for how you end up. You don’t compare! You don’t complain! You neither throw nor honor a blame party!

(2) Society is many things but your problem. They are your spectators, onlookers, challenge, springboard, market, reason, but never your problem.

(3) Remember 1 and 2!

Here’s for a fresh start. Take a thorough inventory of your life. Pick out the broken pieces. The part you are not proud of and you’d rather apportion blames. Those parts that you think are not your fault. Now, be responsible and accept that it’s your fault. Yeah…it's your fault.  Then, start again. You will prefer it.

Saturday, 25 June 2016

YES, I AM A FARMER!


Ermmm, I'm sorry for staying away for so  long. Only last week the Secretary in my fellowship said exam was around the corner. Now, Prof. is saying the same exam is knocking. But, I can't be tricked. Exams don't lurk around your backyard, they don't knock. They break down your door. So, that's why I've been away. Yeah, I miss you too. Wait oh, I heard Madam Aisha is neating Fayose's eye? But how will that reduce the price of tomatoes? *smh*

....

This one came out of the AGR3*zero*5 farm and the road that led us all there

I've heard your reservation and they almost make sense. 
But is it really out of care or you are just scared I'd fail you?
Yeah, I understand. I too wouldn't see over the fence
If I were you.
But you see, what I see is quite more than frankincense
It's like nothing on your pew

our fear ain't the same
Not anymore.
I think I see a pharaoh in yours.
"Are you really gonna consider this?"
"But It's all sweat and sand!"
"And a bit of blood"
"It is mere agriculture!"
"You're gonna end up an ordinary farmer"

I see your fears
They are almost valid.
But they are also too old.
They are like dinosaurs now.
My teeth can't chew on your ignorance no more
You can opine to join me 
Or honour the treaty you signed with fear 
Either way, you'll see
That a Communion with the soil and chlorophyll

livestock and weather 

Is not a necessary evil
But a call, a holy burden
...

This is to the Agro Lords.


Monday, 30 May 2016

I WOKE UP LIKE THIS


"What happened to the black people of sumer?" The traveller ask the old man. "For ancient records has it that the people of sumer were black. What happened to them?"

"Ah" the old man sighed. They lost their history, and so they died".


No doubt, Nigeria despite the unflowered state, has its own romance. How do you make fine soup of nationhood without the ingredient of history? How did we kick it out of our schools? Did all its teachers retire? Or did the students stop wanting it? Why is the university the only place history heard? Faintly even! it is funny because our fathers,  who now claims we have failed never taught us about our past but expect us to respect, love it and move on. Well, it's clearer now than ever, we need a firm and an unbiased grip of history; family and nation. How did we get here? What have we tried? How have we failed? The easiest way to ruin a people is to make sure they don't tell their stories or to tell only part of it. To rise from this pit, we must tell all. Write all. Read all.

To all you visionaries who believe that to start afresh we must forget our history and also to everyone who thinks that the best shot at a perfect future is to deny the past; you are in the wrong. If you don't know what led to this moment, you will remain in it. Running from the glaring truth of the past is like a black lady applying blush; it's futile. We are who we are. Until we are courageous enough to learn about our history, we are not ready for the future. One chief factor why we as Nigerians can't effectively tackle trials is a thriving ignorance of the past. It is not enough to cram dates of obvious events and names of prominent forefathers. It is not okay to possess a detached knowledge of your root. How did all you've come to  crammed come about? And why?

I think sincerely that one reason we don't tell about our history is because we don't have it. As a people, we have a very outdated manner of storing information. A terrible habit. We admit too much things to memory and chance. A historic happening is often undocumented  and is left to the sparse mercy of hearsay. So, all the time, the truth of history is lost or often modified to suit the faction of the teller. It is almost always not correct. People forget, they die, they lie. Ben Murray-Bruce (the "I just want to make common sense" crooner) in his book A Common Sense Revolution wrote, "Nigerians may be surprised to note that if you want to get accurate records of Nigeria Civil War, of supreme military council activities, of leaders that were deposed (e.g Buhari first regime), of defining moments of Nigeria's history, you have to go to either the British Broadcasting Corporation, BBC or the British ITV". Can you imagine! Those melancholic evenings were we sat at Baba's feet and laid on mama's chest while a a single-edged stories were shoved down our throat were surreal. But it's no longer enough.  There whole truth should be told and so, should be properly documented.

History can have its own weight, but ignorance is worse…it could tear us into unimaginable bits. We all seem to know who to blame, but how would that help?  In a few years, you'd become an ancestor. Then, someone would blame you. And the rat race continues. No more should blames can be bought and sold. We woke up like this. Let's bother enough to understand the past before changing it. Let's tell our story. Paint our it on walls our primary school instead of Scooby doo and Barney. How is a borrowed English language more important than our native History? Adamu Adamu , please wake our schools. Our children should know that our fathers did not only marry many wives and practiced subsistence farming, they also carved, painted and built empires. Take history back to our schools.

All over the universe, histories are the same! It contains a fair divide of both loathsomeness and loveliness. You must first embrace and understand it, then try to prune. Give yourself a gift this Democracy Day celebration, go buy yourself a bowl of interest on national history. Teach the young. Tell others to do the same.

....

Happy Democracy Day celebration Nigeria and Happy birthday Bridget.

Tuesday, 24 May 2016

OF WHY WE CANNOT WAIT

I disagree with you.
There is good still flowing the vessels of our thoughts.
I beg you to buy courage to rethink your resolve.
Don't drown in this ephemeron flood
Save your kith too.
Can anything good come out of this Nazareth?
Well, you did!

There are no ropes…no boundaries
No doubt,
As soon as you're born, you are old enough to grow.
Be mindful of what you settle for,
Cos' that's what you'll give.
Your competition is as global as love.
The earth was flat until the someone cared
Dust your brain and willpower
We are going to the lab.

Don't let character go on holiday.
Ceaselessly Polish the wheel of TRUTH
Like a pestle in war, it cannot fail.
But after every triumph, sharpen your sword.
It is laudable if you wanna' win from here.
But You've lost if you win only here.
Progress is not up for debate
Like money, it must be made.
To heal record we must play
To die well we must live.

Sunday, 15 May 2016

LOVE IS NOT RED

The day will come when, after harnessing space , the winds , the tides, gravitation, we shall harness for God the energies of love. And, on that day, for the second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire"

-Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

On valentine's day, my school is always turned into a bloody colour by 'lovers'. If you don't have any touch of red, you are either too young to grasp love or too old to feel it. If you don't have a lover, you didn't exist that day. Uncle Matthew said about love, "It is the kind of feeling you feel when you feel the kind of feeling you've never felt before". Is love that reliable rising sun that never fails to come every morning or that denting black spot on your knee that stays after a fall?  Maybe my school was correct, love have some colour to it. Maybe uncle Matthew was right, love is indeed a feeling. Maybe love is really meant for lovers. But is that all love is about?

Some say love dampens the senses and so, should never come. Others suggest that if it did come, it should never stay for It comes with too much bother. Society (you and I) have tenaciously misconstrued the science of love. It's not always sex. It's does not always gain. It is not the light in your eyes when you see Felicia or the lump in your throat when you hug Dápo. It is not about who you can love and when it's convenient. It' s not moi-moi, it should not be rationed. Love is not religious, tribal or racial. Love is not blind. Love does cost a thing. Love is not that dripping red heart picture on your gallery. No! Love is not red. What did they say about journalist…they consistently repeat a lie with the hope that it will become true. No amount of clothe we wear love can change how it looks. It is either love or not. No semi-love or fake love.

Love could be petalous as well as thorny. Love is commitment. Believe me, love is the smile on your face when you see your imperfect self in a mirror. It was the pain in mummy's voice when she bore you. It was the necessity in daddy's gait as he spank your mischievous bum bum. Love was the hurried steps your play mates made into the bush to fetch Awolowo leaf to tend your scratched knee. It was the silence Uzor shared with you when words failed. It was in those things we shared and gave when it was all we had. It was in those voices that prayed and cheered us on when we couldn't find strength. It was in the kiss on the altar when you remembered how long Bamikole waited to deserve you. Love was when you trusted Isoken with your heart. Love is simple. It cannot be caged, but given wings. Love is the only debt that can't be paid in full.

Love is when you let yourself live.

Wednesday, 11 May 2016

OBSEQUIES.

Do we let any wind carry us or we pick the one we follow? There's a girlie thing about 'naso them dey do am' (tradition), its attractiveness is as nippy as an office pin near a giant magnet. Like most things, it has a dark side and some colour to it. As per colour, there is this 'here-we-respect-our-elders' credit it possesses. The way it also permits us to fetch personhood from the tap our past to water our 'now' into a green future. Then, there's the dark region. The part that èpà don't chronicle stories about, Akowè won't scribble about, Osayomore dare not play flute about. Even auntie Ewaen has never gossiped about. That part we rather leave untouched because…we know little or nothing about it.

There are those who argue that we jettison the entirety of 'how they did it' and go for new ways. Well, I disagree. I think we should bring it forward and edit it. We don't need a sword to either protect or cut off the status quo. What we need is a brush and a pair of scissors to sometimes polish or at other times cut ties with it. Believe me, When you understand the science of progress, a lot of kpalava is resolved.

I asked Alama (not real name) why we so much break out pockets and safes for funeras. She looked into space as one looking at the multicoloured poster of 'Ikenna; the blind warrior' for what seem like a minute. Then she abruptly replied, "it's how we pay last respect here".  Well, our last respect is a little too expensive don't you think? If the dead could act, they'd slap us out of our burial-celebratory-mode into the mourning-realizing-that-we-are-dust-mode.

Now, every thursday, you would hear screeching of tires as though formula 4 is next door. But you'd find out that a family is trying to bury a loved one and so, thought it frugal enough that neighbours do not have peace. Well, the neighbours don't mind as long as the noise births take-away packs, beverages and souvenirs. A lot of return-from-mortuary gyration have led to accident that led to death that will later led to another gyration. Note here that gyration is like appetizer to the main course-OBITO. Burial is business now as families sell Ankara as though it's kilishi. It's common nowadays to here things like "Epa, My elder brother don die, dis nah the second cloth wey we carry for the burial. The party nah Saturday" How about the owambe and obito rockers who now take burials as food fare and saturdays as a lucky day.

Iye no khua died 5 months ago of what the doctors described as heart failure. We all know what killed IYe…neglect! Her remains has since been the deposited in Gods Care Mortuary, while the family prepare for breathtaking burial. The afore disjointed family has been forced into halfhearted cooperation…for Iye's sake. Osakpamwan, the first son and second child has since issued order from Netherland (backed with some Euro of course) that what is now left of the sagging building that was once the residence of Iye be renovated and painted white. 'They need to know that Iyè's children are well off' he said.

Iye's first daughter, Imatitikua was the picture D'banj had in mind when he said 'importer, exporter, cocoa water!'. She had prayed two years earlier when Iye first fell sick that God should keep her alive. Not out of love as you would naturally want to think, but because her Dubai business just started off. The business was too young to survive a burial. But now, Iye died at the right time, "I can now give my mother a befitting burial" she boasted.

The other six children soon arrived from different parts of the country. The budget for the burial was 3.5 million Naira. This, of course includes the list from the oka-egbe (the head of the extended family) who see burial as a form of seasonal employment opportunity to sift as much goodies as possible. After splitting the budget, Imatitikua being the eldest took the highest. Only her and Osakpamwan could afford their share, the other 6 had to borrow to make up and look good.

The burial ceremony surpassed their expectation, all 31 canopies where filled up with many more standing. This confirmed what Felix the last born said a day before, "make we only invite those wey fit spray oh, the rest go somehow come". 3 band played. Everyone ate, drank, gossiped, fought and took away. Everybody applauded them. " This burial tough pass that Pa. John Ode own last week o" a 'professional burial analyst' commented. The burial was done, everybody was smiling, Iye's was gone, the children were indebted, life continued.

Iye's death had brought crocodile tears, new Ankara, artificial unity and longterm debt.

But how could Iye's children have done differently?  Was that not the way everybody does it? You see, I get the whole 'last respect part'. But, whatever happened to burial ceremony being solemn? It should be a time where we see the remains of our loved ones remind that we share the like fate. I believe we didn't start out like this. Even if we did, maybe it is time we stopped.
If you have been saving for any OBITO, just go and invest in a business and stop disturbing the dead and living with this craze. 

Enough! Burial is not an investment opportunity, it is a time of mourning and reflection.


Sunday, 10 April 2016

DEAR SKIN MATE,

...
Today is Sunday. Yesterday, the rain and the sun could not agree on which should come first. So, the two like impatient bus drivers came down same time. As I write this in an almost empty LT, I'm thinking, was the tiger giving birth(tales from childhood)? Or the rain and sun were just selfish?

Oh, did your read about the choir master of the change church and his visit to China to extend the begging bowl? How's that Saraki's case coming up sef? For so long, too many things have hindered me from writing to you. I finally prevailed, hence this letter. Hope you're good? I'm well.

I heard of you clamour and desire for fame and public attention. You want the Tyler Perry crowd and the Bishop Oyedepo's force. This is a good thing. I think Maslow would also agree. But, allow me to to show you a note from my most interesting course yet (Arable Crop Production);
"Africa is however not important for wheat production. Since wheat is the only grain with enough gluten content to make a raised loaf of bread, wheat quickly became favoured over other grains". So, here's the question; what value do you bring to the world's table? It is your importance that counts, not your desire. So get your attention seeking arse to work and give the world a reason to look at you.

It's good for your Zara gown to perfectly fit your athletic body. Yeah, it's okay to be sexy. I've been like the way you so meticulously treat your hair that they look like a makeshift for noodles. I like your Chloè bag too. It add to your sassiness. I'm impressed. I really love your white timberland and your gold neck chain that glows like that blue flame they use in making michai. I understand this fancy and cozy lifestyle. Yeah, I probably want it too. But is that all? Like seriously, is that all you gat? What about the white matter in between your ears? Do you ever clothe it? What do you live for? What do you want to die doing? Have you ever really thought lately? Have you observed that our grudgingly stocked libraries and sagging bookstores are no longer in vogue? Did you take note of the hundreds of drinking parlours and clubs that have quickly become the cot of friends? Do you see how gerontocracy is feeding fat on our green and white cake as we anciently wait for tomorrow? Former prime minister of Singapore, Lee Kuan Yew asserted, "The new divide in the world will be between those that have knowledge and those without" You simply can't act more than what you know. What do you know? What would you do differently?

You see, you should believe your geography teacher. The sun is the centre of the universe, not you. I remember what you ranted to that fella that injured your frail pride, "do you know who I am?" Well, I thought about it after I left you; if you have to remind anybody about who you are, then maybe you are not. Try and go to a place far away from here and also quieter. When you get there, ponder about the celestial beauty of the sun and how it does not sing to us every morning about being the sun...it simply shines. Add to your pondering list, the over 7 billion people on the side of existence and how to effectively serve them. Yeah, you read right...serve them! Or you gat a another idea?

When we went out that day and you recounted how good you were in bed and the contemporary sex style that you have both learnt and invented, I was almost impressed. So, recently I did a micro research. I wanted to know how penis, vagina and their union have helped better humanity. Guess what I found...nothing! On the contrary, it is power of the brain that have since been shifting mankind not the efficiency of the waist. It will be a shame if the only thing you can do well is what's responsible for the world's regression.

Finally, you can call it a letter within a letter but make sure you give to that your friend who told me about her many woes.

"Hey Uzodinma,
I'm black. I'm African. So the world will understand when I fail. Afterall, I have had to struggle for everything, even to talk and breath. My dad still sees me as an expected mistake. Mummy almost agrees, except that I'm the only girl. 15 years ago, I was 10 years old. But my lesson teacher didn't think I was too young, he had his way one too many times. That's when I first died. I like the university for one thing, the lucrative upgraded prostitution. The earthen pot bellied old men who come to pick me from my hostel with their fast cars say I'm pretty and they can have enough of me. And that was the second time I died. Education is a myth for me, it's always going to be in the kitchen. So, damn the certificate! I don't think I count in God's big plan. Or so I thought.
Everything has since changed. I found out that my story was not my problem. My perception was. So what's your story? It's your choice how your story turns out. An excuse or a motivation? You choose!
For the first time I've started living. I'm still healing.

Your friend,
Former victim. "

I really would love to continue but, let me leave you now. I have just been told that some weeds are planning a coup d' etat against my plant. Even as I send this you, I'll keep a copy for myself. Ensure you write back. 

Happy Sunday skin mate.
Regards,
'samu
...
I dedicate this work to Success Daniel NDU whose discussion and friendship gave birth to this work...Salute. And also to my roommate, Noah Aghedo for help in trimming some syntactic cancer...Thank you!