“No. Cricket’s about the only batting game,” I replied. “Now that’s one game I’ve never understood. Wickets, fielding, batting — I don’t know anything about that stuff. I know the words but not what they are.  Apparently it’s more popular in Commonwealth countries, although I don’t know about Canada.”

“Me neither,” he said.

We’d been discussing sports, which if you know me, is a topic I only handle well when I’m bashing everything other than table tennis.

“How about football?” he asked.

“No.”

“Rugby? That’s close.”

“Not that I know of. Soccer’s everything.It’s only here it isn’t called football.”

A nasty thought popped in my head just then, and I found myself smiling.

“When I was little there was a game we used to play called American Football,” I said. “It was like soccer, although if the ball passed between your legs, everyone would gather around and beat you up.”

“American football, huh?” he cracked up and I joined him. “That sounds right for some reason.”

“It was a really silly game,” I continued. “I remember we didn’t care much about scoring any goals. We’d run around trying to kick the ball through someone’s legs while trying not to fall victim. It was a really nice game.”

And it was. Even the bullies would let us punch them, and we didn’t hit too hard.

You’d think the bow-legged guys were at a disadvantage, but you couldn’t be more wrong. There was this space between their legs but I don’t recall many instances of any of them getting kolo-ed.

I sometimes wonder if kids still play that game.

It so happened that on one of those days, we confirmed the presence of a humongous piece of beef at least 5-6 times larger than anything else in the entire soup pot. This wasn’t one of those times when the person serving himself surreptitiously examined two similar pieces to determine which was bigger — or as we all did on occasion, test the weight using the scooping spoon.

Into Chief’s bowl it went. I got the next largest, and my little brother Uche got the next. What was left was a very little piece, so tiny it would have fit on a teaspoon. Perhaps that’s an exaggeration, but it was a lot smaller than anything else in the pot.

Halfway into his meal Chief attempted to sample his meat and discovered it was hard to the touch. Yes, there were striations just like the beef his younger brothers had, but it wasn’t beef — or any kind of meat for that matter.

It was a stick.

I still don’t know what it’s called, but it’s usually ground up into a spice and used for cooking. Our mother cooked with it whole, preferring to let the soup absorb only some of its essence.

When we saw his reaction, we knew what it was. Our Uncle M– had fallen victim to it the month before. Very quickly, Uche threw his meat into his mouth and began to chew. The law of the jungle applied at the table when our parents weren’t around to ensure some semblance of civilization and the weakest are always the first to take steps to protect themselves or in this case, their property.

I was three years younger than Chief but we were the same size. The Isoko woman who lived around the corner even called us Ejima everytime we went out wearing the matching clothes our mother seemed to think we should wear.

My elder brother sized me up and I glared back. We had fought several times and were pretty much on par with each other. I was prepared to fight again. Everybody knew meat tasted best if you kept it for last after finishing up your eba, and I was not going to eat mine simply because I didn’t want to fight with my brother over it.

He left the table slowly, returning to the kitchen. I waited nervously, hoping he had not gone to fetch the eba stick, his preferred weapon. Whoever held the eba stick always had the advantage, and I had hidden it several times to make the fights fairer, sometimes even wielding it myself.

He returned with the last piece of meat and all the tension drained away.

“Azuka,” he said when he sat down. “Let’s exchange our meats.”

“You chose first,” I grinned at him.

He grinned back, then we were all laughing.

He never fell for the soup stick again, but I did, and that’s a story for another day.

We only had a footpath where Oro-Ekpo Road is today. The rest of the road was overrun by weeds, rubbish dumping was rampant, and it wasn’t uncommon to sight a snake  — or soldier ants.

They moved in what looked like an organized line. If you looked closely, you’d find the line was thicker at the center with what I’ll call ‘explorers’ leaving to investigate the surroundings and re-entering when they were done.

If you stepped on something crunchy, chances were high that you’d encountered some. Even worse was when you didn’t know they were there as happened to me once.

We didn’t have a borehole then as we still had a lot of modifications to make to the house, so my brother and I would make the journey to one of the commercial pumps everyone who had one (a borehole) seemed to have. The pumps were in fact, so popular we used to have lines in front of them.

Sometimes we would show up with 8 containers and fill them all up in one go. One person stayed behind to watch over them while the other pushed the rest home in a barrow, four at a time, bringing back the empty cans to rejoin the line.

It was one of those slow days and after making several trips home, it was my turn to wait in line while my brother ‘Chief’ made the journey home. A family with what looked like 50 jerry cans was in the middle of filling them.

I was next in line but as the family didn’t seem like they would be done  soon, I found a log to sit on. I must have been sitting for close to 20 minutes before the last jerry can was filled up.

Halfway up from the log, I got the first bite. I jumped up with a howl.

In the instant I looked back at the log I knew I was in trouble. A very thick line of soldier ants had formed while I was seated and crawled everywhere behind me while I remained motionless, completely unaware of the danger.

Just as my first movement triggered the first bite, my jumping up set off more than ten bites in response. I must have looked funny slapping all over myself, getting bitten again and again with each slap because some people who stood off to the side were doubled over with laughter.

“Take off your clothes!” shouted one girl.

I gave her a look that said, “I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t take yours off even if you had scorpions crawling around inside” — or at least I tried to. Another bite interrupted me mid-pose and I screamed.

I took off for home in a sprint, my position in line completely forgotten. As I ran, I hit wherever I got bitten.

The ants seemed to be playing a game with me. Just when I thought I’d gotten the last bite, another ant would give me one more intense than the last.

By the time I got home, I’d pretty much eliminated them all.

Needless to say, I was a lot more careful for some time after that but it wasn’t the last time I had a painful encounter with soldier ants.

My first Ifeoma was a cheery, brilliant girl in my class who always had a smile on her face, my first Emmanuel a bully a class ahead of mine who seemed to derive some joy in blasting the ball into my stomach whenever I served as the goalkeeper during soccer games. My first Mustapha was one of my best friends in secondary school who was called the Professor because he explained the structure of DNA to an SS1 student while we were still in JSS1, and my first Sandra was a haughty but pretty girl who I had the misfortune to have a crush on.

I’ve noticed I can’t help it even today. Tell me about an Ifeoma and I think I want to meet her, because she’s sure to be spontaneous, cheery, etc. I was wary of one of my classmates named Ernest for a while until I decided he was ‘safe.’

I’m not a fan of Oluchi the model because there’s that link between her and a runny-nose. Emmanuels are okay with me, because I’ve met quite a lot over the years and they’ve almost always been ‘good guys.’ All Mustaphas are smart — at first — and all Veras have green eyes until proved otherwise.

If I were your first Azuka, would you expect any traits in the next Azuka you meet, or would you keep the personality profile blank until you found out more about him/her?

Courtesy, and the knowledge that I seldom called him, won out. I flipped the phone open.

“Hello?”

“Hello! Azuka, this is Chi!” I was assailed by his loud voice. My brother, like my Dad, has a habit of shouting into the phone. I held it some distance away from my ear.

“Hello Chief,” I said. “You just woke me up.”

“Sorry, Azuka, I had something important to tell you.”

I already knew what he wanted, but let him go on just in case I was wrong.

“Did you remember to buy the book I asked you to?”

I was drifting off to sleep again.

“Azuka!”

“Yes, yes, I’ll buy it today,” I said. “You don’t have to remind me.”

“Ok,” he lowered his voice. “How’s school?”

“I’m done for the semester. Chief, I need to sleep — you know it’s night here.”

“Goodnight.”

I think we both hung up the same time.

Later that day, I walked into Borders with my friend Kwame. While browsing, I picked two Clive Cussler books, surreptitiously looking at the section titles to see if I could find the book without asking the clerk for any information. She was a fiftyish, grandmotherly type, who helped me check whether there were any Marie Corelli books available, genuinely pleased (I think) at meeting someone who could talk books with her.

I summoned the courage to ask, “Um… do you have any copy of the Kama Sutra?”

The smile was still there on her face, but something changed in her eyes. The smile was suddenly not so inviting. Usually, she would walk me to the bookshelf where a book was to be found, but she nodded me towards the Relationships Section.

Good Lord, I thought, I’ve been labeled a sinner.

I got the edition with pictures. Chief had been specific about that.

I was checked out almost mechanically, and hurried out of the bookstore, Kwame trying to keep up with me.

I‘m pretending to have no idea why that happened, but I daresay I never felt more relieved when it was done and over with.

1. It seldom functions correctly…

Enough said. I’m back.

1. Nobody’s ever seen me shave. I just turn up clean-shaven. I read Bandiet many many years ago before I got the first signs of stubble and for some reason I’ve stuck with a different shaving technique. Hugh Lewin had to shave with a broken mirror and soap at one point while he was in jail. I’ve only ever shaved with soap and cheap plastic shaving sticks — and I’ve never gotten bumps.

2. I count the beats in any piece of music I listen to, trying to fit them into a pattern. Four and five beat tunes are my favorites — one of the reasons Pachelbel’s Canon in D is one of my alltime favorites.

3. When I don’t like a particular incident in my life, I tell myself a different version of things until I almost begin to believe it. There’re things I’ve been telling myself for so many years I’m not sure which version really happened. In a way, it’s a great technique for getting over times I’ve goofed in the past.

4. I don’t like physical contact, except the party involved is very close to me (and I can count the number of people who’re that close on one hand). Giving me a hug, holding my arm and touching my shoulder are some of the surest ways to alienate me if you’ve just met me, even if you’re a crush. Of course, handshakes don’t count.

5. I love noise, which is surprising because I’m one of the quietest people you’ll probably meet. Only someone who truly loves to talk can get me to talk, and other times when I don’t want to say a word, I’d rather be with someone who talks for two — maybe three.

6. I think scratching an itch in public is very unbecoming, unless it happens to be under my chin — funny, I seem to get those when I feel an overwhelming urge to be more macho.

7. I love children. They’re about the only people I can communicate with without being pretentious — or quiet. I guess it’s the part of me that wants to go back to being a child.

8. Oops, I think there should be an eighth. I like to disprove people’s notions of me — sometimes. If you find me prudish, I tend to expose my other, very uninhibited side. It gets annoying because I can’t understand why the heck I try to sound stupid to people who think I’m smart, and smart to people who think I look stupid — that includes ‘blowing grammar’ and confusing a Walmart salesgirl who once talked to me like a retard. Wait, that never happened but I’ve done something like that before. Now where did that take place? Is that Number 3 overwrite mode at work?

gourmand (plural gourmands)

1. a person given to excess in the consumption of food and drink. A greedy or ravenous eater; a glutton.

I’ve been gaining a lot of weight in the past few months and I was beginning to wonder if it had anything to do with my drinking hot chocolate and eating bread in the middle of the night while in front of my computer.

Tonight just before I went to scrub my shoes, I measured the usual quantity of rice I eat into my ‘little’ ceramic bowl, topped it with water and put it in the microwave. When it was done, I decided not to eat from the bowl tonight — instead, I emptied it into one of my dishes.

Was I glad I did!

There before me was the largest platter of rice I’d ever seen. Looking at it, I knew I wouldn’t be able to eat all of it. The problem was I had been eating the same everyday! I couldn’t believe I ate something fit for three square meals in one sitting three times a day! Little wonder only two of my jeans fit and I have a hard time running up the stairs.

Well, it’s back to flat plates for me and I really hope I manage to shed all this unwanted fat. Jeez!

In other news, I just remembered a little joke told by one of my colleagues in my CADs Consulting days. One of the guys on the team got an NYSC posting to Zamfara State and we were giving him suggestions of ‘better’ places to serve in:

Two new corpers got posted to a very remote village in Cross River State. It had no running water, electricity or any of the more basic amenities. The guys reassured themselves that they’d be able to survive and if they couldn’t take things anymore, they’d head back to the camp at Calabar and establish their base in the city.

They had been urged in the strongest terms to head straight to the Chief’s hut as soon as they arrived so they did just that. To their consternation, he immediately ordered a town meeting because he wanted to show them to the villagers. They tried to dissuade him from drawing attention to them but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

When everyone had gathered, the Chief placed the embarrassed corpers on a pedestal and announced:

“These people are government pikins. Look at their faces very well. Nobody should eat them or we’ll be in trouble with the government.”

An old, nearly toothless woman piped up:

“People from the town don’t even taste good. I ate one of them once.”

Biodun don’t be scared!

For most women, the choice between sex and a new wardrobe is simple — they go for the clothes.

Women on average say they would be willing to give up sex for 15 months for a closet full of new apparel, with 2 percent ready to abstain from sex for three years in exchange for new duds, according to a new survey of about 1,000 women in 10 U.S. cities.

Sixty-one percent of women polled said it would be worse to lose their favorite article of clothing than give up sex for a month.

“Some people say clothes make the man, but the right clothes can even replace him,” fashion designer, stylist and TV personality Carson Kressley from the reality TV show “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” said in a statement accompanying the poll.

The study also suggested that clothes often wear better than relationships.

The average woman between 18 and 54 years of age has hung on to her favorite article of clothing for 12 and a half years, a year longer than she’s held on to her longest relationship.

Almost three-quarters of respondents, or 70 percent, also said they believed in love at first sight when it came to finding the perfect article of clothing, while only 54 percent of women were as confident in spotting the right man.

Nearly half of the women, or 48 percent, taking part in the survey by consumer products giant Unilever said their favorite article of clothing was more reliable than their man in giving them confidence and making them feel sexy.

Is it true? (Reuters)

Question 1:
Imagine you are in a desert (are you there?);
Now imagine a ladder (are you seeing it?);
Now what is the position of the ladder? i.e Lying down, Resting on something, Standing alone…

Lying down

Question2:
Imagine a horse in that same desert (are you there?);
What is the colour of the horse?
What is the horse doing?

Brown horse, silhouetted against the sun, pawing the ground with it’s right hoof, admiring it’s shadow.

Question 3:
Come back to reality…
Give three reasons why you like water:

1.Therapeutic — I’d love to sit alone all day and write beside a waterfall.
2. I cook with it.
3. Quenches my thirst.

Question 4:
What is your favorite color?

Currently olive green

Give the three reasons why you like that color.

1. There’s an abundance of green in nature
2. It reminds me of when I used to pull out grass and chew on the tender ends
3. I’m using it on WritingInn

Question 5:
What is your favorite animal (Even if you don’t like, what would it be if you do?)

Cat

Give three reasons why you like/would like that animal.

1. They have this honest, searching gaze.
2. They’re so cute and adorable.
3. You don’t teach cats tricks. That’s me in a nutshell — try to teach me and I actively reject almost everything. I try to find my own path.

Question 6:
Imagine you wake up in a white room with no door, and no window. What will be your first reaction?

Go back to sleep.

What will be your reaction afterwards?

If I wake up and everything’s still white, I’d mentally go through the ways I’d describe it in case I have to write it down some day.

Question 7:
Without thinking, name two opposite sex names that are not your family member.

1. Z
2. Dr N

Question 8:
Without thinking, name someone from your family member.

Uche

Question 9:
Name anyone, same sex or otherwise, that is not a family member.

Samuel Opoku

Question 10:
List four of your favorite music titles

1. Arrival of the Queen of Sheba — George Frederic Handel
2. Mandoline Concerto in C — Antonio Vivaldi
3. Call my Name — Styl Plus
3. Piano Concerto No. 23 in A, 1st movement — Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Question 11:
List four of your favorite locations/cities.

1. Port Harcourt, Nigeria — my home
2. Ikotun, Lagos, Nigeria — my favorite aunt lives there
3. Tampa, FL — the first city I experienced in the US. Seaworld, Busch Gardens, Adventure Island, the works, courtesy of National Geographic.
4. Sydney, Australia — I’d love to go there. Never been.

Last One:
Arrange these animals according to your preference: Tiger, Sheep, Cow, Monkey, Eagle

Tiger
Eagle
Sheep
Cow & Monkey (tied)

Let’s hope I don’t get too much revealed about me here…

Alright, UnNaked, over to you!