The year's started and almost gone... 3 days gone already to 2011... Wish I could slow the clock and make the day go slower. The holiday is over and back to work tomorrow for those who have to be there... I am away till the 24th or longer if I can help it.
Was so sad on the 31st when I heard about the bomb blasts in Abuja, just after the Christmas eve bombs in Jos. where are we headed as a people? What is going on? Why is this happening to Nigeria? We have prayed and fasted and cried to God to save us from the hands of those who hate good things in Nigeria... Maybe we need to continue praying and hoping that God will indeed have mercy on us and save us. We need peace in Nigeria to be able to deal with our issues as a country but it does appear that both the evil men and the politicians (are they different?) do have other plans for us... God forbid bad thing...
I am looking forward to the year. I am so thankful that I am alive and healthy. God has indeed been merciful to me. I am thankfuk for my job, my family, friends, colleagues and the oportunities he puts my way. This year I am committed to making a difference in the community and lives of others. I pray for wisdom and strength to plan and actualise the plans... for continued health to be able to do all that I have to do.
It is day 3.. and I am looking forward to the rest of the 362 days in 2011 as long as the Lord gives me life and good health.
Welcome 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
Saturday, October 30, 2010
The Sudan Trip (1) - My 2007 Odyssey to Khartoum
Written March 2007 to my colleagues....an account of trip to Khartoum
I have been quiet trying to gather the energy and liver to write about my trip to Khartoum........
The Friday before the trip, in the morning, I decided to call the CEO to confirm that the strategy workshop will still hold on Monday and Tuesday... he picked his cell phone, they were not at work.. Friday is a weekend in Sudan... I should have known that I silently reprimanded myself... Don't want this people thinking that Head office people aren't culturally sensitive.. I apologized in the sweetest tone and words I could muster... while also wondering why they refused to acknowledge mails all week.. He assured me that a visa will be waiting at the port of entry...
I went off to Executive floor to sign off the trip with my colleague... we operate on last-minute basis on my team... that's another long story..they knew I was going to Sudan and we didn't not get the travel requisitions (reqs) signed. Anyway my colleague got a scolding from the HR Director's PA...
Papers signed, we took off (a long walk) to the in-house American Express travel team... left the req and my colleague decided she had finished her end of the deal.. So I sat in the office firing off mails and sms to the team in Sudan and the consultant... No response except from Nick who confirmed that the trip will hold... I scrambled to finish a leadership learning DVD developed by my office.. I needed some clips from the DVD for the sessions.. and it has been designed in such a way that you have to finish the 3 modules to access the DVD freely...and I was still on Module 1.... most of the clips were in Module 2 and 7. I tried... I really did try that evening but gave up at 5.30 and went home... By 6.00pm everyday, my office is a ghost town... you'll think there is a race the way everyone gets up between 4.30 and 5pm and heads home... Friday is worse with all the pub lunches that go on... people have a way of fixing outside meetings on Friday...
Anyway I went home to my sisters and my niece who always stands at the door waiting for me to drive in... It was their last weekend and I had planned to shop till we drop on Saturday... not that I know my way to a lot of shopping malls... I know just 3… Randridge, Clearwater and Cresta... We spent the Saturday shopping and the night packing for my trip... when I say packing, how many clothes can you pack for a 2 day visit in a little bag...
Meanwhile, on my way home on Friday, the travel consultant had called to tell me she had sent my e-ticket and voucher for my perdiem and cash advance for the hotel... She said I had to pick up my ticket from Kenya Airways counter and cash from American Express office in the airport... but to do that I need my id or passport (naturally i thought to myself) and proof of residence... At that point I sparked... I said I had no proof of residence and if AMEX wasn't going to give me without one, all well and good. I mentally made a note to collect usd from my sisters and give them Rand.. But I was really upset...Proof of residence or Proof of Official Residence (POOR), like my friend K reminded me
Sunday morning, I was promptly picked up at home and taken to the airport. I took slow steps to the Amex counter and met Nick (the consultant) picking up his cash... I pushed my passport to the consultant and he printed a bunch of papers from his PC and just asked me to sign two... no request for proof of residence... Nick waited with bated breath cos he knows my stand on POR... I heard him exhale when the guy counted the cash and wished us a safe trip... I nearly did a little Igbo dance of relief..
We walked to the KA counter and checked in without issues... no one asked for the visa but we volunteered that it will be waiting in Khartoum... At 11, we boarded the flight and thanked our star that for once KA was on time... 4 hours later we were in Nairobi... The flight to Khartoum was leaving immediately and we walked to the gate to board the flight... We were told that we couldn't board until they sighted the visa to Sudan... all attempts to explain fell on deaf ears... I put a call through to Khartoum from my MTN Nigeria phone (wasn't roaming my SA phone) and the CEO answered... he called in Mary the Office Manager who spoke with the airline that she had a copy of the visa.. they gave her a fax number so she could fax it to them and they promised to transfer us to the 8.30 Ethiopian Airline flight...
We were taken to the lounge to wait for the fax to come through... Mary called to say she had faxed it... I went to the desk to tell them... they said nothing had come through... Mary kept calling that they should check the fax machine, I went back and forth trying to convince the ladies that Mary had sent the fax... I think they found the coming and going irritating so one of them volunteered to go and check herself and find another fax number... W e both went downstairs and she asked me to wait at the transfer desk while she went downstairs to their office.. I asked the ladies at the desk if there was a place I could check my mails and they gave me direction.. I walked in confidently paid the $2 they asked for and checked my mails on this old system... I called Mary to scan and send the mail to me and waited for nearly 10 minutes of like 15 calls from Mary asking if I had received it... I was getting irritated and wondering if I shouldn't return to Joburg when I looked again and the mail had walked in.. Excited, I asked the lady if I could print... she said she had no printer... I was like a balloon pricked with pin... deflated... I walked back to the lounge and asked the lady (a new one) at the counter if they had received the fax... she said she was told that the fax machine wasn't working... this was nearly 2 hrs after they had given Mary the number.. I asked her if Mary could send her the e-mail and they could print it so we don't miss the 8.30 flight.. I had never me someone so rude... she told me I had to wait 30 minutes for her to think about it, that they have just changed shifts and no one told her anything about me and my issue... I was tired... I stood there… harassed, begged, quarrelled...anything to get her to do anything...Reluctantly she gave me an e-mail address... which I promptly gave to Mary. Meanwhile Mary was calling like every minute and I was getting irritated because if they had made the calls on Friday or Saturday I won't be in the airport being insulted by a young lady who I guess hadn't even finished school. The young lady then volunteered when I asked her to check if the mail had come, that it was the duty manager's e-mail address she gave me...
Oya now call the duty manager and ask her if the mail has come... that started another round of quarrel, begging, harassment until she caved in and called.. the DM said she'll check and come upstairs... Nearly 30 minutes passed before I was told that the DM was looking for me... I walked all the way back to the desk and met this pleasant lady who apologized nicely and said she printed 2 copies... that we should go to Ethiopia Airlines that our tickets were at the boarding gate...
I lugged my bags downstairs with Nick and went to the gate.. the ticket was waiting, the lady pleasant but we had to wait for the flight to arrive.. It was going to be 35minutes late.. At that point I sat on the floor and rested my now throbbing knee... Nick sat beside me and we looked like 2 homeless refugees... The flight came, we checked in and boarded after like 10minutes... The flight was empty and I prepared myself to sleep.. alas it was a short flight... 1hr 30 minutes.. No problem that's enough to rest my head for the next hop to Khartoum... we then looked at our ticket and realized we were booked on the 9am flight to Khartoum... workshop was billed to start at 8am.. It was going to be a long night in Addis... we had no choice... the only other flight to Khartoum from Nairobi was on Tuesday.. that was not even an option...
We got to Addis and realized there was a 1am flight to Khartoum... we went downstairs and were issued our boarding pass by a beautiful and really sweet lady... she gave us meal vouchers which we tried to redeem... alas no food... All we had for the day was the coffee in the lounge at Joburg airport... We sat down with me still trying to finish the module.. I was on Module 2 now...
The flight was called and we cleared security and went to the desk... the man asked for the visa and I confidently produced the mail and the scanned copy of document sent by Mary, and he said no it was not the visa... I called Mary... Mary talked and talked and talked and the guy said no and promptly started boarding the plane... I asked for the duty manager... none... it was 1.20am... we talked and begged and pleaded and teased to no avail... at that point I started laughing... Nick thought I had gone crazy... Mary was at the other end of the phone telling me togive the phone to the guys at the boarding desk... they didn't want to answer Mary, Mary was asking me to ask a manager and complain... I found it amusing that I couldn't even get them to show the pilot the document... she said we should tell them we will bear the cost of deporting us if it came to that, that there was someone at the airport waiting... them hear?.
when we realized it was a futile effort, we carried our bags and tried to get into the lounge.. it was closed... no long story will make the man let us stay... Being the smart girl I was , I walked quickly to a long seat and quickly arranged my stuff on the chair for the night.. Meanwhile Nick went in search of coffee or a meal which sent me into another bout of laughter... he shook his head and walked off...
I lay on the bench...my handbag and laptop bag as pillow.. my little suitcase as footrest and then brought out the papers I got in the aircraft in SA... nice wide papers and covered my legs... Took out my very soft sweater and wore it... the airport was cold... next to me was this man who kept trying to rest his head on the bosom of a fragile looking young lady... obviously sugar daddy and his baby on a trip... I got irritated after a while of watching the little drama and lay down for the night... My pashmina suddenly became very small... I tried using the newspapers to cover my body and they kept slipping off.... In the movies, you see the homeless cover themselves so well with the papers... I thought maybe the papers were too fresh... I squeezed them and tried again.. no luck.. I brought out my night gown and covered my legs and tried using the cowl neck of my sweater to cover my head and ears... About 3.30 am one of the ET guys saw me struggling and went and brought 2 blankets.. I gave Nick one... That helped because I slept a little...dreaming about my SD neighbour and his sugar baby, fighting for my blanket...
I think about crying.. I am frustrated... what's even worse is that VS is out of reach... not responding to sms... I have sent like 12 sms... no response... frustrating when you can't even complain or whine... Maybe I am too dependent and it is tiring for him... He has his own life other than being my VS...but can't he sense that I need him to reassure me that it's ok... I am certainly not on the radar and that hurts a little....ouch...
Woke up at 5.30 and went to the bathroom to try and bring some semblance of order to my day... went to find coffee with Nick and started planning our day... we tried to find ET officials to clear us to fly...they needed clearance from Khartoum... called Mary...she took off to the airport, no ET official.. time was ticking by... it was 8.30.. the flight was leaving at 9.20... Nick and I decided to fly back to Joburg... Mary called she had gotten hold of the Manager in Khartoum... begged us to give her 10 mins.. It wasn't mine to give... convinced Nick to try one last time and then go back to Nairobi... handed my boarding pass to the guy at the counter... he said I should wait, he needed clearance... Mary called and I handed her over to the counter guy.. she rattles on in English with the guy looking more confused... next thing he says take your phone... flight is boarding...go downstairs... i asked him to do what... he said to board... his colleague comes over and tries to hurry us downstairs... i complain that our boarding pass was for the previous night.. he's not listening... anyway we go downstairs to join the bus and then they discover the boarding pass... while they are deciding how to handle this, the man runs downstairs, quickly writes seat numbers in the boarding pass, waves us through and we drive to the aircraft.. All this while, I am on the phone to Mary... she refuses to drop listening to all the noise and conversation and asking me questions.... My bill will be hefty... it is chargeable... I was finally on my way to Sudan..
Got into Khartoum at 11.20am...switch on my phone and it is Mary... she's waiting before the Immigration check.. Get off the plane and get into the bus.... drive to the arrival hall and Mary is standing there in a pair of black trousers, made up... she is the loveliest sight I have seen in a long while... She had Mahir, the guy in Khartoum who can walk in anywhere.... they fill out the documents, we sign, they pay and we have the famous visa stamped on our passports... We can walk into Khartoum... Great... over 24 hours for a 7hr flight... I am tired, need a bath and sleep in that order.... not about to happen, we have a workshop to run at 2pm... Head off to the "hotel". Turns out to be lovely 2 bedroom apartment for $200 per night... My apartment is large and very comfortable but the shower is tiny... Take a quick shower and dress up for the session... Head downstairs a little after 1pm clutching a bottle of coke and water... Khartoum is hot!!! and cold!!!
The workshop run well...as well as can be under the circumstances... the projector can't see my system so we can't run the clips... Finished day 1 at 8pm... out for dinner with men smoking from large pots... stayed up till 11.30 am. It is cold... very cold... Day 2 runs really well... they have a strategy, a strat map and KPIs for the team.... we head off to the office at 7pm to complete the report and the scorecard... I am proud of my Accenture experience... I do the strat map and complete the feedback from the team... was capturing while they were discussing.. Nick is impressed... In previous sessions, he had to do everything... he spends the time reviewing the stuff I am churning out.. we finish at 9pm and go for dinner... our flight is at 3am so we have time to eat and drink... little did we know that the return was going to be just as eventful.
I have been quiet trying to gather the energy and liver to write about my trip to Khartoum........
The Friday before the trip, in the morning, I decided to call the CEO to confirm that the strategy workshop will still hold on Monday and Tuesday... he picked his cell phone, they were not at work.. Friday is a weekend in Sudan... I should have known that I silently reprimanded myself... Don't want this people thinking that Head office people aren't culturally sensitive.. I apologized in the sweetest tone and words I could muster... while also wondering why they refused to acknowledge mails all week.. He assured me that a visa will be waiting at the port of entry...
I went off to Executive floor to sign off the trip with my colleague... we operate on last-minute basis on my team... that's another long story..they knew I was going to Sudan and we didn't not get the travel requisitions (reqs) signed. Anyway my colleague got a scolding from the HR Director's PA...
Papers signed, we took off (a long walk) to the in-house American Express travel team... left the req and my colleague decided she had finished her end of the deal.. So I sat in the office firing off mails and sms to the team in Sudan and the consultant... No response except from Nick who confirmed that the trip will hold... I scrambled to finish a leadership learning DVD developed by my office.. I needed some clips from the DVD for the sessions.. and it has been designed in such a way that you have to finish the 3 modules to access the DVD freely...and I was still on Module 1.... most of the clips were in Module 2 and 7. I tried... I really did try that evening but gave up at 5.30 and went home... By 6.00pm everyday, my office is a ghost town... you'll think there is a race the way everyone gets up between 4.30 and 5pm and heads home... Friday is worse with all the pub lunches that go on... people have a way of fixing outside meetings on Friday...
Anyway I went home to my sisters and my niece who always stands at the door waiting for me to drive in... It was their last weekend and I had planned to shop till we drop on Saturday... not that I know my way to a lot of shopping malls... I know just 3… Randridge, Clearwater and Cresta... We spent the Saturday shopping and the night packing for my trip... when I say packing, how many clothes can you pack for a 2 day visit in a little bag...
Meanwhile, on my way home on Friday, the travel consultant had called to tell me she had sent my e-ticket and voucher for my perdiem and cash advance for the hotel... She said I had to pick up my ticket from Kenya Airways counter and cash from American Express office in the airport... but to do that I need my id or passport (naturally i thought to myself) and proof of residence... At that point I sparked... I said I had no proof of residence and if AMEX wasn't going to give me without one, all well and good. I mentally made a note to collect usd from my sisters and give them Rand.. But I was really upset...Proof of residence or Proof of Official Residence (POOR), like my friend K reminded me
Sunday morning, I was promptly picked up at home and taken to the airport. I took slow steps to the Amex counter and met Nick (the consultant) picking up his cash... I pushed my passport to the consultant and he printed a bunch of papers from his PC and just asked me to sign two... no request for proof of residence... Nick waited with bated breath cos he knows my stand on POR... I heard him exhale when the guy counted the cash and wished us a safe trip... I nearly did a little Igbo dance of relief..
We walked to the KA counter and checked in without issues... no one asked for the visa but we volunteered that it will be waiting in Khartoum... At 11, we boarded the flight and thanked our star that for once KA was on time... 4 hours later we were in Nairobi... The flight to Khartoum was leaving immediately and we walked to the gate to board the flight... We were told that we couldn't board until they sighted the visa to Sudan... all attempts to explain fell on deaf ears... I put a call through to Khartoum from my MTN Nigeria phone (wasn't roaming my SA phone) and the CEO answered... he called in Mary the Office Manager who spoke with the airline that she had a copy of the visa.. they gave her a fax number so she could fax it to them and they promised to transfer us to the 8.30 Ethiopian Airline flight...
We were taken to the lounge to wait for the fax to come through... Mary called to say she had faxed it... I went to the desk to tell them... they said nothing had come through... Mary kept calling that they should check the fax machine, I went back and forth trying to convince the ladies that Mary had sent the fax... I think they found the coming and going irritating so one of them volunteered to go and check herself and find another fax number... W e both went downstairs and she asked me to wait at the transfer desk while she went downstairs to their office.. I asked the ladies at the desk if there was a place I could check my mails and they gave me direction.. I walked in confidently paid the $2 they asked for and checked my mails on this old system... I called Mary to scan and send the mail to me and waited for nearly 10 minutes of like 15 calls from Mary asking if I had received it... I was getting irritated and wondering if I shouldn't return to Joburg when I looked again and the mail had walked in.. Excited, I asked the lady if I could print... she said she had no printer... I was like a balloon pricked with pin... deflated... I walked back to the lounge and asked the lady (a new one) at the counter if they had received the fax... she said she was told that the fax machine wasn't working... this was nearly 2 hrs after they had given Mary the number.. I asked her if Mary could send her the e-mail and they could print it so we don't miss the 8.30 flight.. I had never me someone so rude... she told me I had to wait 30 minutes for her to think about it, that they have just changed shifts and no one told her anything about me and my issue... I was tired... I stood there… harassed, begged, quarrelled...anything to get her to do anything...Reluctantly she gave me an e-mail address... which I promptly gave to Mary. Meanwhile Mary was calling like every minute and I was getting irritated because if they had made the calls on Friday or Saturday I won't be in the airport being insulted by a young lady who I guess hadn't even finished school. The young lady then volunteered when I asked her to check if the mail had come, that it was the duty manager's e-mail address she gave me...
Oya now call the duty manager and ask her if the mail has come... that started another round of quarrel, begging, harassment until she caved in and called.. the DM said she'll check and come upstairs... Nearly 30 minutes passed before I was told that the DM was looking for me... I walked all the way back to the desk and met this pleasant lady who apologized nicely and said she printed 2 copies... that we should go to Ethiopia Airlines that our tickets were at the boarding gate...
I lugged my bags downstairs with Nick and went to the gate.. the ticket was waiting, the lady pleasant but we had to wait for the flight to arrive.. It was going to be 35minutes late.. At that point I sat on the floor and rested my now throbbing knee... Nick sat beside me and we looked like 2 homeless refugees... The flight came, we checked in and boarded after like 10minutes... The flight was empty and I prepared myself to sleep.. alas it was a short flight... 1hr 30 minutes.. No problem that's enough to rest my head for the next hop to Khartoum... we then looked at our ticket and realized we were booked on the 9am flight to Khartoum... workshop was billed to start at 8am.. It was going to be a long night in Addis... we had no choice... the only other flight to Khartoum from Nairobi was on Tuesday.. that was not even an option...
We got to Addis and realized there was a 1am flight to Khartoum... we went downstairs and were issued our boarding pass by a beautiful and really sweet lady... she gave us meal vouchers which we tried to redeem... alas no food... All we had for the day was the coffee in the lounge at Joburg airport... We sat down with me still trying to finish the module.. I was on Module 2 now...
The flight was called and we cleared security and went to the desk... the man asked for the visa and I confidently produced the mail and the scanned copy of document sent by Mary, and he said no it was not the visa... I called Mary... Mary talked and talked and talked and the guy said no and promptly started boarding the plane... I asked for the duty manager... none... it was 1.20am... we talked and begged and pleaded and teased to no avail... at that point I started laughing... Nick thought I had gone crazy... Mary was at the other end of the phone telling me togive the phone to the guys at the boarding desk... they didn't want to answer Mary, Mary was asking me to ask a manager and complain... I found it amusing that I couldn't even get them to show the pilot the document... she said we should tell them we will bear the cost of deporting us if it came to that, that there was someone at the airport waiting... them hear?.
when we realized it was a futile effort, we carried our bags and tried to get into the lounge.. it was closed... no long story will make the man let us stay... Being the smart girl I was , I walked quickly to a long seat and quickly arranged my stuff on the chair for the night.. Meanwhile Nick went in search of coffee or a meal which sent me into another bout of laughter... he shook his head and walked off...
I lay on the bench...my handbag and laptop bag as pillow.. my little suitcase as footrest and then brought out the papers I got in the aircraft in SA... nice wide papers and covered my legs... Took out my very soft sweater and wore it... the airport was cold... next to me was this man who kept trying to rest his head on the bosom of a fragile looking young lady... obviously sugar daddy and his baby on a trip... I got irritated after a while of watching the little drama and lay down for the night... My pashmina suddenly became very small... I tried using the newspapers to cover my body and they kept slipping off.... In the movies, you see the homeless cover themselves so well with the papers... I thought maybe the papers were too fresh... I squeezed them and tried again.. no luck.. I brought out my night gown and covered my legs and tried using the cowl neck of my sweater to cover my head and ears... About 3.30 am one of the ET guys saw me struggling and went and brought 2 blankets.. I gave Nick one... That helped because I slept a little...dreaming about my SD neighbour and his sugar baby, fighting for my blanket...
I think about crying.. I am frustrated... what's even worse is that VS is out of reach... not responding to sms... I have sent like 12 sms... no response... frustrating when you can't even complain or whine... Maybe I am too dependent and it is tiring for him... He has his own life other than being my VS...but can't he sense that I need him to reassure me that it's ok... I am certainly not on the radar and that hurts a little....ouch...
Woke up at 5.30 and went to the bathroom to try and bring some semblance of order to my day... went to find coffee with Nick and started planning our day... we tried to find ET officials to clear us to fly...they needed clearance from Khartoum... called Mary...she took off to the airport, no ET official.. time was ticking by... it was 8.30.. the flight was leaving at 9.20... Nick and I decided to fly back to Joburg... Mary called she had gotten hold of the Manager in Khartoum... begged us to give her 10 mins.. It wasn't mine to give... convinced Nick to try one last time and then go back to Nairobi... handed my boarding pass to the guy at the counter... he said I should wait, he needed clearance... Mary called and I handed her over to the counter guy.. she rattles on in English with the guy looking more confused... next thing he says take your phone... flight is boarding...go downstairs... i asked him to do what... he said to board... his colleague comes over and tries to hurry us downstairs... i complain that our boarding pass was for the previous night.. he's not listening... anyway we go downstairs to join the bus and then they discover the boarding pass... while they are deciding how to handle this, the man runs downstairs, quickly writes seat numbers in the boarding pass, waves us through and we drive to the aircraft.. All this while, I am on the phone to Mary... she refuses to drop listening to all the noise and conversation and asking me questions.... My bill will be hefty... it is chargeable... I was finally on my way to Sudan..
Got into Khartoum at 11.20am...switch on my phone and it is Mary... she's waiting before the Immigration check.. Get off the plane and get into the bus.... drive to the arrival hall and Mary is standing there in a pair of black trousers, made up... she is the loveliest sight I have seen in a long while... She had Mahir, the guy in Khartoum who can walk in anywhere.... they fill out the documents, we sign, they pay and we have the famous visa stamped on our passports... We can walk into Khartoum... Great... over 24 hours for a 7hr flight... I am tired, need a bath and sleep in that order.... not about to happen, we have a workshop to run at 2pm... Head off to the "hotel". Turns out to be lovely 2 bedroom apartment for $200 per night... My apartment is large and very comfortable but the shower is tiny... Take a quick shower and dress up for the session... Head downstairs a little after 1pm clutching a bottle of coke and water... Khartoum is hot!!! and cold!!!
The workshop run well...as well as can be under the circumstances... the projector can't see my system so we can't run the clips... Finished day 1 at 8pm... out for dinner with men smoking from large pots... stayed up till 11.30 am. It is cold... very cold... Day 2 runs really well... they have a strategy, a strat map and KPIs for the team.... we head off to the office at 7pm to complete the report and the scorecard... I am proud of my Accenture experience... I do the strat map and complete the feedback from the team... was capturing while they were discussing.. Nick is impressed... In previous sessions, he had to do everything... he spends the time reviewing the stuff I am churning out.. we finish at 9pm and go for dinner... our flight is at 3am so we have time to eat and drink... little did we know that the return was going to be just as eventful.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Proof of Residence
This was one of my first notes in 2007
It's amazing the many things one takes for granted until you move to some other place... All last week, I tried several times to open an account... Around here, it appears everything revolves around your account number... I can't get paid without an account, can't fill out medical aid without one, need a relationship with a bank to prove that I am resident in SA…
Proof of residence... my albatross... For everything I have to do, I must have proof of residence... that's easy, isn't it... I have a house address in Boskruin... I even know the post code now courtesy of my encounter with the hospital... now that I think of it, it's only the shops and hospital that haven't asked for proof of residence... maybe they don't care as long as I part with the cash...
Your proof of residence could be "Telephone account, bank statement from another bank, Correspondence from a body corporate, Motor vehicle license documentation, television license, Utilities etc... Easy... Not so fast... Take another look at the list again... Ahaa... for any of these, you must have set up a contract with the company or provider in your name... and to do that, you require proof of residence... So to prove that I am resident in the house that I claim I live in, I need a bank account... to get a bank account, I need to prove that I live in the house...
I sleep in my house, eat in the house, have paid Gene the pool man, 2 months in advance and I still have to prove that I live in that house... Guy my landlord knows me... as his tenant... but how do I prove to the authorities that I reside there... I thought about making a video "And Chizoba lives here"... I am not sure that will wash with the bank... it may be a first for them and knowing Bank "Consultants", they may have to escalate several chains up before someone 6 months down the line decides that photographic evidence doesn't suffice...
So I spent all last week, trying to find how to prove that I live in that house... I thought about taking Sue, the Chairwoman, Chairman or Chairperson of BushHill Glades (she's not quite sure what she should be called)... Sue will deny me cos she asked me to send her my "contract" with Guy my landlord so they can give me a car sticker for my "estate". I have asked Guy to see her and show her the contract he has with MTN. I have also asked the office to call her...but who cares about Sue... their contract is with Guy...or so I thought.. I haven't been shown that contract... it would have made my proof of residence so much easier...
So last Friday, I decided that come what may this proof of residence must be settled once and for all... I asked the office to do the letter to the bank which they did and also asked them for the tenancy contract with Guy... I got the letter and then an MOU with BushHill Glades... no contract.. I went downstairs to the in-house bank... I had chatted with the lady like 4 times expressing my frustration at not being able to open an account and she said she'll speak with her branch and get back to me... You guessed right... she never did... So I took my papers confidently... after all I had the famous employment contract with my company, my ID and work permit and the letter from the office saying I am who I claim I am, that I am working with them and do live at the famous house that I live in...
She takes one look at my employment contract and says "no, I can't take this; it is not admissible in court". I wanted to ask her wetin concern your bank with court and my contract of employment" but I kept my peace... I came to open an account and not argue about when banks became legal authorities... I calmly asked her what the problem was, and she said the contract was not dated, there were no witnesses... Bottomline… no opening of any account... At that point, all my bottled frustration nearly came to the fore.. I told her that I find it frustrating that for 2 weeks I have been trying to open an account with the bank and I keep getting one story or the other... If I was a fraudster, or drug baron or my bros DSP, they would have opened the account pronto.. I acknowledged that it wasn't her fault but maybe just maybe I should walk on the dark side of the law to prove that being illegit pays...
So I storm upstairs in frustration and announce that I am returning to Nigeria.. at least in Nigeria, I don't have to prove that I live on Modupe street... Jim Ovia's bank or Tony Elumelu's staff will gladly open my account without seeing me or me filling out a form... Frustrated or not, I have to go for the team meeting... I sit through the meeting trying to understand the issues on the table... but my mind is really far away... I am mentally counting the notes in my bag and my house hoping that my sister brought cash for me and silently praying that the hospital doesn't ask for more money after they had made me deposit R6900 ($1000) to admit Mmeli, my 17 month old niece...
So I decide to discuss this little problem of no account, no pay with my team and my boss... My colleague, who's just relocated, has also had a well known issue with proof of residence. He's been living in a guest house and hasn't been able to show proof that resides somewhere... I realise that talking about it, isn't to get my pay into an account anywhere in SA and I might as well just keep shut... The other alternative is get my money paid into my GTB account and then see how I can get transfers in and out... I sit through the rest of the meeting just planning what I will do.. I have a feeling I committed to doing some stuff that I can't remember.. who cares... when I get my account, I can go looking for what it is I am supposed to be doing... Anyway I recruit my colleagues as witnesses... they sign my copy of the contract... who cares about the one in my file.. let me see how the 2 contracts will match when the bank decides to take me and my company to court... Shebi cunny man die...cunny man bury am.. na one - one goalless draw..
I leave the meeting and go up to the Payroll team to plan my "Account opening project". I fill out online forms with like 3 banks; call up another 2 who ask me to bring in the docs I have, and let them see what happens... I call my Dr friend who does his Nigeria analysis of the banks I am considering... which annoys me even further but I say nothing... Who cares what he thinks of the banks as long as I can get my pay into an account and I can access the money... It is easy to analyse stuff when you can access cash... Try analysing the banks when you are running out of money... of what use is the analysis... unless it is for a PhD thesis…
I pack all my papers, contracts, my "proofs of residence" and head home for the day determined that I must have an account by Monday morning... I had been referred earlier to Clearwater Mall branch of the bank by the Relationship person who initially thought I wanted an offshore account... we had talked for like 3 days before she realised I needed a local account then she started hedging... Anyway I had a name to talk to in the bank.. Megan.. and I was determined that Megan was going to open that account on Saturday... but first I have to find Clearwater mall...
I am geographically challenged... where is east, west or north? I am told it is on Christian de Wet (pronounced Christian de Vet). Can’t ever pronounce the names right... nearly bit my tongue trying to pronounce the hospital where my niece is admitted… Wilgeheuwel Hospital. Can't remember where the Vs and the Ws go. At least Nnenna tries to remember. My colleague rides with me to pick up his car from the garage and shows me the mall. Silly me, it is the bank of buildings I see on my way from the office to the hospital... When I am given directions to a place, you better give the directions back if not consider me lost. That's another long story...
So i finally find my way to the hospital to see my ill niece and ensure she's ok. We sit around the hospital till 9.30pm waiting for her to turn in for the night, but she is still awake and we don't want her to cry. So we sit and wait. Parents don’t stay in hospital, so no matter how ill your child is, once it is nightfall you go home and child stays… simple… They asked me to sign a form when they admitted her, I asked them to sign mine… a guarantee that when I come in the morning that I will find her; that they won’t have changed her overnight to something I can’t recognise… you know you can’t trust these people.. before they start telling me cock and bull stories otherwise know in my place as “how I shot the baby bird and the mother flew away… Did I have a choice… not at all.. On top of my $1000 deposit, I have to leave the child in their care… ok oooo… I hope Mmeli will show them just small pepper…
I wake up early on Saturday morning... my account opening day and plan my trip for the day... Driving is serious business... I need to anticipate all the turnings and robots.. We step out for the day and guess what... I left the bag of my documents and proofs of residence at home.. I refuse to get angry with myself... I reasoned that I have something more important like getting my niece home... In any case even if I opened the account on Saturday I can't get paid on Saturday... so I plan again for Monday...
Monday at 9am I head to the bank and then sit for 30 minutes waiting for an avaliable consultant...armed with my documents to prove that I truly legitimately reside where I claim I do... I asked to speak with Megan who can't remember the conversation with Mumtaz... I hold my peace.. come what may, I wasn't leaving there without an account number... I didn't care what account... I just wanted a number..
At past 10, a lady walks up to me consults a list and then says come with me... I pretend I didn't hear her... I know the routine, they walk up to you and say "Mr xxxxxx please come with me"... Can't she pronounce my name.. she looks at me again and says please come with me... I get up and follow her after all I came to open and account and not hear my name called...
I push all the documents to her and calmly explain that I ned to open an account... she asked for passport, work permit, employment contract.. as she reels off what she needs, I pick it from the pile in front of her and push it towards her... She starts clicking and filling out a form online.... "cell phone number?".... Work phone? I tell her I have no clue.. she looks puzzled... I look at her strangely.. can't she get it that my cell phone number is my work phone number as well... this is 2007...what other number can someone in mobile telecoms have.. I offer my home number... she accepts... Then the famous question..."what your address"... I hand her the letter from my office duly signed stating my address... and she said the P words... Proof of residence... that's like red flag to a bull... I asked her how I will have proof of residence when I have no account, can't contract with any provider without proof of residence... how's one expected to survive without pay cos one doesn't have an account because there's no proof of residence... she asked when I was to be paid and I told her wednesday last week....but that won't happen without a bank account... At that point, I think she realised that one more question was going to fetch me a quick trip to the psychiatrist... so she took the remaining documents and continued filling out whatever it was she was filling online..
Then she says I have to open a saving account for you - Eplan - is that ok? How do i know the account types and what you can do with them... Told her I had no clue what she was talking about... I need an account that I can pay my salary into and withdraw from... call it saving, paying o whatever just open the account... she says ok.. she'll open the savings, then I can get banking history for 3 months and we can then transfer it to a current account... Do i care... all I want is anumber... We go through all the form filling and signing and she says I need to pay minimum of R50... Not a problem... if she asked for 5000, I was willing to pay into the account, just let me have the number...
Some more forms to fill and sign and she announces that I need to go go over to enquiries to pick my ATM card and gives me a form to give my office... she can see the relief on my face... she tells me to pick the card and then go to the teller and pay the R50... and the account has been opened... it takes about 2 seconds for my brain to register that I have finally opened the account and now on my way to having "an unaided proof of residence". I quickly thank her and go to enquiries, get my card, test it and receive my PIN.... Then head off with my R50 to the teller to further consolidate this my new relationship...
At long last, 2 hrs after I walked into the bank, I now have an account number... I don't know whether to dance, sing or cry... I calmly walk out to the car park and get into my car... I send a mail to my VS telling him I have finally opened the account... I drive away to my office to present the all important number to the payroll team... I meet Renee as soon as I get to my desk and show her document.. proof that I have an account... she smiles and hugs me... and says just what I want to hear.... "let me go and arrange the transfer..."
I am suddenly very emotionally, physically and mentally tired.. all I want to do is go home and sleep... the DS (deep slumber) kind... Obtaining "proof of residence" is one hell of a job... Maybe I should run a training and consultancy on that... My first client will be my new colleague who's just signed to join... Wonder what my fees should be
It's amazing the many things one takes for granted until you move to some other place... All last week, I tried several times to open an account... Around here, it appears everything revolves around your account number... I can't get paid without an account, can't fill out medical aid without one, need a relationship with a bank to prove that I am resident in SA…
Proof of residence... my albatross... For everything I have to do, I must have proof of residence... that's easy, isn't it... I have a house address in Boskruin... I even know the post code now courtesy of my encounter with the hospital... now that I think of it, it's only the shops and hospital that haven't asked for proof of residence... maybe they don't care as long as I part with the cash...
Your proof of residence could be "Telephone account, bank statement from another bank, Correspondence from a body corporate, Motor vehicle license documentation, television license, Utilities etc... Easy... Not so fast... Take another look at the list again... Ahaa... for any of these, you must have set up a contract with the company or provider in your name... and to do that, you require proof of residence... So to prove that I am resident in the house that I claim I live in, I need a bank account... to get a bank account, I need to prove that I live in the house...
I sleep in my house, eat in the house, have paid Gene the pool man, 2 months in advance and I still have to prove that I live in that house... Guy my landlord knows me... as his tenant... but how do I prove to the authorities that I reside there... I thought about making a video "And Chizoba lives here"... I am not sure that will wash with the bank... it may be a first for them and knowing Bank "Consultants", they may have to escalate several chains up before someone 6 months down the line decides that photographic evidence doesn't suffice...
So I spent all last week, trying to find how to prove that I live in that house... I thought about taking Sue, the Chairwoman, Chairman or Chairperson of BushHill Glades (she's not quite sure what she should be called)... Sue will deny me cos she asked me to send her my "contract" with Guy my landlord so they can give me a car sticker for my "estate". I have asked Guy to see her and show her the contract he has with MTN. I have also asked the office to call her...but who cares about Sue... their contract is with Guy...or so I thought.. I haven't been shown that contract... it would have made my proof of residence so much easier...
So last Friday, I decided that come what may this proof of residence must be settled once and for all... I asked the office to do the letter to the bank which they did and also asked them for the tenancy contract with Guy... I got the letter and then an MOU with BushHill Glades... no contract.. I went downstairs to the in-house bank... I had chatted with the lady like 4 times expressing my frustration at not being able to open an account and she said she'll speak with her branch and get back to me... You guessed right... she never did... So I took my papers confidently... after all I had the famous employment contract with my company, my ID and work permit and the letter from the office saying I am who I claim I am, that I am working with them and do live at the famous house that I live in...
She takes one look at my employment contract and says "no, I can't take this; it is not admissible in court". I wanted to ask her wetin concern your bank with court and my contract of employment" but I kept my peace... I came to open an account and not argue about when banks became legal authorities... I calmly asked her what the problem was, and she said the contract was not dated, there were no witnesses... Bottomline… no opening of any account... At that point, all my bottled frustration nearly came to the fore.. I told her that I find it frustrating that for 2 weeks I have been trying to open an account with the bank and I keep getting one story or the other... If I was a fraudster, or drug baron or my bros DSP, they would have opened the account pronto.. I acknowledged that it wasn't her fault but maybe just maybe I should walk on the dark side of the law to prove that being illegit pays...
So I storm upstairs in frustration and announce that I am returning to Nigeria.. at least in Nigeria, I don't have to prove that I live on Modupe street... Jim Ovia's bank or Tony Elumelu's staff will gladly open my account without seeing me or me filling out a form... Frustrated or not, I have to go for the team meeting... I sit through the meeting trying to understand the issues on the table... but my mind is really far away... I am mentally counting the notes in my bag and my house hoping that my sister brought cash for me and silently praying that the hospital doesn't ask for more money after they had made me deposit R6900 ($1000) to admit Mmeli, my 17 month old niece...
So I decide to discuss this little problem of no account, no pay with my team and my boss... My colleague, who's just relocated, has also had a well known issue with proof of residence. He's been living in a guest house and hasn't been able to show proof that resides somewhere... I realise that talking about it, isn't to get my pay into an account anywhere in SA and I might as well just keep shut... The other alternative is get my money paid into my GTB account and then see how I can get transfers in and out... I sit through the rest of the meeting just planning what I will do.. I have a feeling I committed to doing some stuff that I can't remember.. who cares... when I get my account, I can go looking for what it is I am supposed to be doing... Anyway I recruit my colleagues as witnesses... they sign my copy of the contract... who cares about the one in my file.. let me see how the 2 contracts will match when the bank decides to take me and my company to court... Shebi cunny man die...cunny man bury am.. na one - one goalless draw..
I leave the meeting and go up to the Payroll team to plan my "Account opening project". I fill out online forms with like 3 banks; call up another 2 who ask me to bring in the docs I have, and let them see what happens... I call my Dr friend who does his Nigeria analysis of the banks I am considering... which annoys me even further but I say nothing... Who cares what he thinks of the banks as long as I can get my pay into an account and I can access the money... It is easy to analyse stuff when you can access cash... Try analysing the banks when you are running out of money... of what use is the analysis... unless it is for a PhD thesis…
I pack all my papers, contracts, my "proofs of residence" and head home for the day determined that I must have an account by Monday morning... I had been referred earlier to Clearwater Mall branch of the bank by the Relationship person who initially thought I wanted an offshore account... we had talked for like 3 days before she realised I needed a local account then she started hedging... Anyway I had a name to talk to in the bank.. Megan.. and I was determined that Megan was going to open that account on Saturday... but first I have to find Clearwater mall...
I am geographically challenged... where is east, west or north? I am told it is on Christian de Wet (pronounced Christian de Vet). Can’t ever pronounce the names right... nearly bit my tongue trying to pronounce the hospital where my niece is admitted… Wilgeheuwel Hospital. Can't remember where the Vs and the Ws go. At least Nnenna tries to remember. My colleague rides with me to pick up his car from the garage and shows me the mall. Silly me, it is the bank of buildings I see on my way from the office to the hospital... When I am given directions to a place, you better give the directions back if not consider me lost. That's another long story...
So i finally find my way to the hospital to see my ill niece and ensure she's ok. We sit around the hospital till 9.30pm waiting for her to turn in for the night, but she is still awake and we don't want her to cry. So we sit and wait. Parents don’t stay in hospital, so no matter how ill your child is, once it is nightfall you go home and child stays… simple… They asked me to sign a form when they admitted her, I asked them to sign mine… a guarantee that when I come in the morning that I will find her; that they won’t have changed her overnight to something I can’t recognise… you know you can’t trust these people.. before they start telling me cock and bull stories otherwise know in my place as “how I shot the baby bird and the mother flew away… Did I have a choice… not at all.. On top of my $1000 deposit, I have to leave the child in their care… ok oooo… I hope Mmeli will show them just small pepper…
I wake up early on Saturday morning... my account opening day and plan my trip for the day... Driving is serious business... I need to anticipate all the turnings and robots.. We step out for the day and guess what... I left the bag of my documents and proofs of residence at home.. I refuse to get angry with myself... I reasoned that I have something more important like getting my niece home... In any case even if I opened the account on Saturday I can't get paid on Saturday... so I plan again for Monday...
Monday at 9am I head to the bank and then sit for 30 minutes waiting for an avaliable consultant...armed with my documents to prove that I truly legitimately reside where I claim I do... I asked to speak with Megan who can't remember the conversation with Mumtaz... I hold my peace.. come what may, I wasn't leaving there without an account number... I didn't care what account... I just wanted a number..
At past 10, a lady walks up to me consults a list and then says come with me... I pretend I didn't hear her... I know the routine, they walk up to you and say "Mr xxxxxx please come with me"... Can't she pronounce my name.. she looks at me again and says please come with me... I get up and follow her after all I came to open and account and not hear my name called...
I push all the documents to her and calmly explain that I ned to open an account... she asked for passport, work permit, employment contract.. as she reels off what she needs, I pick it from the pile in front of her and push it towards her... She starts clicking and filling out a form online.... "cell phone number?".... Work phone? I tell her I have no clue.. she looks puzzled... I look at her strangely.. can't she get it that my cell phone number is my work phone number as well... this is 2007...what other number can someone in mobile telecoms have.. I offer my home number... she accepts... Then the famous question..."what your address"... I hand her the letter from my office duly signed stating my address... and she said the P words... Proof of residence... that's like red flag to a bull... I asked her how I will have proof of residence when I have no account, can't contract with any provider without proof of residence... how's one expected to survive without pay cos one doesn't have an account because there's no proof of residence... she asked when I was to be paid and I told her wednesday last week....but that won't happen without a bank account... At that point, I think she realised that one more question was going to fetch me a quick trip to the psychiatrist... so she took the remaining documents and continued filling out whatever it was she was filling online..
Then she says I have to open a saving account for you - Eplan - is that ok? How do i know the account types and what you can do with them... Told her I had no clue what she was talking about... I need an account that I can pay my salary into and withdraw from... call it saving, paying o whatever just open the account... she says ok.. she'll open the savings, then I can get banking history for 3 months and we can then transfer it to a current account... Do i care... all I want is anumber... We go through all the form filling and signing and she says I need to pay minimum of R50... Not a problem... if she asked for 5000, I was willing to pay into the account, just let me have the number...
Some more forms to fill and sign and she announces that I need to go go over to enquiries to pick my ATM card and gives me a form to give my office... she can see the relief on my face... she tells me to pick the card and then go to the teller and pay the R50... and the account has been opened... it takes about 2 seconds for my brain to register that I have finally opened the account and now on my way to having "an unaided proof of residence". I quickly thank her and go to enquiries, get my card, test it and receive my PIN.... Then head off with my R50 to the teller to further consolidate this my new relationship...
At long last, 2 hrs after I walked into the bank, I now have an account number... I don't know whether to dance, sing or cry... I calmly walk out to the car park and get into my car... I send a mail to my VS telling him I have finally opened the account... I drive away to my office to present the all important number to the payroll team... I meet Renee as soon as I get to my desk and show her document.. proof that I have an account... she smiles and hugs me... and says just what I want to hear.... "let me go and arrange the transfer..."
I am suddenly very emotionally, physically and mentally tired.. all I want to do is go home and sleep... the DS (deep slumber) kind... Obtaining "proof of residence" is one hell of a job... Maybe I should run a training and consultancy on that... My first client will be my new colleague who's just signed to join... Wonder what my fees should be
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Three years after
Taken me three years to get back to this blog. How time flies... When I started writing it was a way of clearing my head while working outside my home country. I am not a writer... never pretended I was.. but it was a way of sharing the things I couldn't tell anyone else. You know how it is, there are things one can't say to colleagues, friends and family...
So here I am now, back home...changed jobs, location, role, routine... In many ways I have changed. I am more withdrawn, homelier and enjoy my own company. I am not anxious and have no need to prove any point to anyone. That's what being 40+ does. I am my own person and I love who I have become and the journey to whatever else I morph into.
But in many ways, I am still the same... Big, bold and in your face... I am still the same old girl... love hanging out with my family and still have the same old friends even if we just hang out on FB. I still find the funny side of life and look for the strange positives in every situation. Still hate negative people and nay sayers... Still single and dreaming of the elusive loving and caring man... It appears they are extinct like the dinosaurs.. but I am still hoping.
I still have my VS... my reclusive, elusive and strange VS. He's no longer my VS, VS...if you get what I mean... I don't need the support anymore...by the way did he ever provide the support.. can't remember... we don't see and don't talk as much... we never really did... We have episodes of long conversations and then he disappears... I don't worry as much anymore about where he's taken off to... Probably because I have a truckload of my own problems or that I have finally come to terms with who he is... But I live my life and he lives his... He never made it to Jozi or whatever location I am in... I have stopped hoping that he will tell his own story. If he does, all well and good... if he doesn't, all well and good...
I am still overweight... and it appears that wishing isn't going to get the weight to fall off... I made peace with the body years ago until this year when I found out I could get a new body for about 8k - 10k usd. Been dreaming of doing the lap band or the bypass but praying also that the drawbacks don't show up in my case... My friend is back with a great body and renewed zest for life... So I am encouarged to give it a try...
My problem is discipline... I love my food. I love my food... I am not a cake and candy person or very snacky... I love my good local food... amala and ewedu with all the bumps and constraints in the soup... banga and starch, swallow + the "soups" - bitterleaf, oha, okro, ogbono, edikang ikong, afang, white soup or nsala... I love my rice with pepper sauce (ofada stew), party jollof rice.... Once I start, I can't stop...
So this month, in steps Uloma and her torture gang who won't let me rest with Atkins, Torture diet, Mastercleanse... Have no clue what possessed me to agree to do the cleanse... so here I am day 5 of this cleanse salivating over all sorts of food that I have been buying... I must have a sadistic streak ordering barbecued fish, and all sorts of "soups" and salads. My housekeeper is walking around in a daze wondering what to do with me not eating but ordering bowls and bowls of food. So it is day 5 of drinking the maple syrup, lemon and ginger mix and wondering how on earth I allowed them to con me into this.
Upside to this - can see my toes are slightly thinner... got into a pair of shorts I last wore 6 years ago when I lost a lot of weight... I am 6 years older and those shorts aren't decent at all now...
downside- I am hungry and want to eat... particularly because I am unhappy at work and not in a good place emotionally. What can a single girl do when unhappy....talk it over with food...
Not sure I can do the 10days... I have proved to myself that I can do without food for 5 days... I am likely to stretch it to 7 days... but 10 is asking for too much. The weekend is tough.. nothing to do, nowhere to go and nothing to eat except take swigs from the bottle of the mix... what a life.
I am back and I hope to keep writing even when I have nothing to say.
So here I am now, back home...changed jobs, location, role, routine... In many ways I have changed. I am more withdrawn, homelier and enjoy my own company. I am not anxious and have no need to prove any point to anyone. That's what being 40+ does. I am my own person and I love who I have become and the journey to whatever else I morph into.
But in many ways, I am still the same... Big, bold and in your face... I am still the same old girl... love hanging out with my family and still have the same old friends even if we just hang out on FB. I still find the funny side of life and look for the strange positives in every situation. Still hate negative people and nay sayers... Still single and dreaming of the elusive loving and caring man... It appears they are extinct like the dinosaurs.. but I am still hoping.
I still have my VS... my reclusive, elusive and strange VS. He's no longer my VS, VS...if you get what I mean... I don't need the support anymore...by the way did he ever provide the support.. can't remember... we don't see and don't talk as much... we never really did... We have episodes of long conversations and then he disappears... I don't worry as much anymore about where he's taken off to... Probably because I have a truckload of my own problems or that I have finally come to terms with who he is... But I live my life and he lives his... He never made it to Jozi or whatever location I am in... I have stopped hoping that he will tell his own story. If he does, all well and good... if he doesn't, all well and good...
I am still overweight... and it appears that wishing isn't going to get the weight to fall off... I made peace with the body years ago until this year when I found out I could get a new body for about 8k - 10k usd. Been dreaming of doing the lap band or the bypass but praying also that the drawbacks don't show up in my case... My friend is back with a great body and renewed zest for life... So I am encouarged to give it a try...
My problem is discipline... I love my food. I love my food... I am not a cake and candy person or very snacky... I love my good local food... amala and ewedu with all the bumps and constraints in the soup... banga and starch, swallow + the "soups" - bitterleaf, oha, okro, ogbono, edikang ikong, afang, white soup or nsala... I love my rice with pepper sauce (ofada stew), party jollof rice.... Once I start, I can't stop...
So this month, in steps Uloma and her torture gang who won't let me rest with Atkins, Torture diet, Mastercleanse... Have no clue what possessed me to agree to do the cleanse... so here I am day 5 of this cleanse salivating over all sorts of food that I have been buying... I must have a sadistic streak ordering barbecued fish, and all sorts of "soups" and salads. My housekeeper is walking around in a daze wondering what to do with me not eating but ordering bowls and bowls of food. So it is day 5 of drinking the maple syrup, lemon and ginger mix and wondering how on earth I allowed them to con me into this.
Upside to this - can see my toes are slightly thinner... got into a pair of shorts I last wore 6 years ago when I lost a lot of weight... I am 6 years older and those shorts aren't decent at all now...
downside- I am hungry and want to eat... particularly because I am unhappy at work and not in a good place emotionally. What can a single girl do when unhappy....talk it over with food...
Not sure I can do the 10days... I have proved to myself that I can do without food for 5 days... I am likely to stretch it to 7 days... but 10 is asking for too much. The weekend is tough.. nothing to do, nowhere to go and nothing to eat except take swigs from the bottle of the mix... what a life.
I am back and I hope to keep writing even when I have nothing to say.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Where it all started: Random Thoughts... It was a Tuesday
This was written in my first few weeks of relocating to South africa from Nigeria...and started the weekly "journal " I sent by mail to friends and colleagues...and gave rise to this blog...
When I first got here and saw people wearing sunglasses, I thought they were all crazy. Then you look at pictures of my colleagues at their functions, they are all in sunglasses… As I am driving to work, nearly every one is wearing sunglasses.... Wetin?
Guess what? I have joined the sunglasses craze… Every morning the sun is out by 6am and as I am driving to work at 6.40am, I drive towards the sun… that’s East I hope (I am seriously geographically challenged). Anyway I have to sit drive bumper to bumper for nearly 30 minutes sometimes to get from my house to join the exit to the N1 freeway that takes me 6 minutes to Innovation Centre. So for the last 2 weeks I have been sitting through this without sunglasses and did not even realise that I needed one.
So I went to the mall on Sunday to pick up a girl to weave my hair… ever wondered why SA women have low cut… the wahala of finding a good black salon is making me reconsider keeping the one I have… that’s another long story… So while in the mall, tired, sleepy and just waiting, I decided to a buy a pair… I think that’s the best decision I have made in a long long time… I tried like 5 till I got THE ONE… and boy do I look good… when I get into my car now, I back out of my garage and as I head out of the cluster gate, I put on my sunglasses and smile to myself and singing to myself “if you could see me now”… vanity upon vanity is VANITY… I have repented of that vanity this morning oooooooooo…. But a girl has to keep herself happy.
My sister brought some Ibo gospel CDs that I like to listen to, so the ride to work is now interesting, with me singing at the top of my voice (don’t worry my windows are fully wound up so they can’t really hear me) and dancing to some strange rhythm… one lady had to overtake me so she could take a good look at the lunatic driving in front of her.
I turn off the free way into 14th Avenue, home of Innovation Centre and there’s traffic… One young guy smiles at me and gives me room to join the lane… I know it is the glasses.. I have gone this route a few times and all they want to do is run me off me the road particularly at the robot… that’s what traffic lights are called here…. So the glasses do make a difference… I knew it! I drive into the premises, swipe my card to get through the main gate, head to Phase 2 basement, swipe again and hey… there’s loads of parking space.. Now I can pick and choose… I find a spot that’s close enough and park so well that driving instructors all over the world will give an arm and leg to have me demonstrate this to their students… Feeling good with myself, I remove the sunglasses and put them back in the case and tuck it away in its special place in the car… I sit in the car listening to the CD and psyching myself up for work today… It is the start of another Tuesday…
Am I crazy? I think so… it has to take craze to justify relocating at this age… no be husband I follow, na me take my own leg with my own hand carry my bag enter plane to come here… No problem.. the work na PhD thesis dem wan make I write… when the big boss was talking about the correlations he’ll like to see from the Org design work and report we are putting together, I wanted to remind him that I don’t have a PhD and certainly not in Social Statistics but I held my peace… why open my rough lips and confirm that I am thick… I missed not having prescription glasses…you now the kind that gives the impression you are intelligent… I think I should invest it one…. In the absence of the glasses, I manufactured a frown that I hope looked like I was deep in intelligent thought.. Looks like it worked because he paused to listen when I did decide to speak…
My trip to Sudan is confirmed… and I have asked the Sarah, my contact there for the dress code… None!! Only a smile… she’s even trying to line up some potential hubbies… but you know my specifications… 10% as rich as the Company President… Who cares about love and beauty… money has a way of making everything rosy and with that kind of money, my cloud 9 will be really really soft… Don’t I need a super soft cloud 9… At least it will get me away from the 8 to 5 grind…
So I am starting work o…. Catch you later and do have a great week… I am still whistling from the sunglasses and the music from the drive to work… I hope I keep the sunshine in my heart…
When I first got here and saw people wearing sunglasses, I thought they were all crazy. Then you look at pictures of my colleagues at their functions, they are all in sunglasses… As I am driving to work, nearly every one is wearing sunglasses.... Wetin?
Guess what? I have joined the sunglasses craze… Every morning the sun is out by 6am and as I am driving to work at 6.40am, I drive towards the sun… that’s East I hope (I am seriously geographically challenged). Anyway I have to sit drive bumper to bumper for nearly 30 minutes sometimes to get from my house to join the exit to the N1 freeway that takes me 6 minutes to Innovation Centre. So for the last 2 weeks I have been sitting through this without sunglasses and did not even realise that I needed one.
So I went to the mall on Sunday to pick up a girl to weave my hair… ever wondered why SA women have low cut… the wahala of finding a good black salon is making me reconsider keeping the one I have… that’s another long story… So while in the mall, tired, sleepy and just waiting, I decided to a buy a pair… I think that’s the best decision I have made in a long long time… I tried like 5 till I got THE ONE… and boy do I look good… when I get into my car now, I back out of my garage and as I head out of the cluster gate, I put on my sunglasses and smile to myself and singing to myself “if you could see me now”… vanity upon vanity is VANITY… I have repented of that vanity this morning oooooooooo…. But a girl has to keep herself happy.
My sister brought some Ibo gospel CDs that I like to listen to, so the ride to work is now interesting, with me singing at the top of my voice (don’t worry my windows are fully wound up so they can’t really hear me) and dancing to some strange rhythm… one lady had to overtake me so she could take a good look at the lunatic driving in front of her.
I turn off the free way into 14th Avenue, home of Innovation Centre and there’s traffic… One young guy smiles at me and gives me room to join the lane… I know it is the glasses.. I have gone this route a few times and all they want to do is run me off me the road particularly at the robot… that’s what traffic lights are called here…. So the glasses do make a difference… I knew it! I drive into the premises, swipe my card to get through the main gate, head to Phase 2 basement, swipe again and hey… there’s loads of parking space.. Now I can pick and choose… I find a spot that’s close enough and park so well that driving instructors all over the world will give an arm and leg to have me demonstrate this to their students… Feeling good with myself, I remove the sunglasses and put them back in the case and tuck it away in its special place in the car… I sit in the car listening to the CD and psyching myself up for work today… It is the start of another Tuesday…
Am I crazy? I think so… it has to take craze to justify relocating at this age… no be husband I follow, na me take my own leg with my own hand carry my bag enter plane to come here… No problem.. the work na PhD thesis dem wan make I write… when the big boss was talking about the correlations he’ll like to see from the Org design work and report we are putting together, I wanted to remind him that I don’t have a PhD and certainly not in Social Statistics but I held my peace… why open my rough lips and confirm that I am thick… I missed not having prescription glasses…you now the kind that gives the impression you are intelligent… I think I should invest it one…. In the absence of the glasses, I manufactured a frown that I hope looked like I was deep in intelligent thought.. Looks like it worked because he paused to listen when I did decide to speak…
My trip to Sudan is confirmed… and I have asked the Sarah, my contact there for the dress code… None!! Only a smile… she’s even trying to line up some potential hubbies… but you know my specifications… 10% as rich as the Company President… Who cares about love and beauty… money has a way of making everything rosy and with that kind of money, my cloud 9 will be really really soft… Don’t I need a super soft cloud 9… At least it will get me away from the 8 to 5 grind…
So I am starting work o…. Catch you later and do have a great week… I am still whistling from the sunglasses and the music from the drive to work… I hope I keep the sunshine in my heart…
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Counting days till Friday
I am counting down till Friday... It's Tuesday...then Wednesday...Thursday and Friday... One, two and three more sleeps and it will be Friday
I'll let on why I counting the sleep days till Friday... It is decision day... to be or not to be... On Sunday, he said that Wednesday will define the opportunities... Today he says he won't know till Friday... but I am patient... I will wait and hear what Friday brings...
I am undecided how I should feel... One part of me wants to hear it is possible...the other part of dreads the possibility... what will I do...because it is a little awkward...a little strange... I like my VS...very much... much more than I can ever let on... I am comfortable with the strange friendship we have and prefer to keep it that way.... the compulsive helper part of me wants to look after him, the sane side of me wants to keep it safe...as safe as sane can be... the dangerous part of me wants to explore possibilities...and the safe part of me wants to keep it even and let it be...
He says Friday will decide if he can come soon... I am happy he is thinking about it...and all excited about showing him my favourite places in Jozi...my cosy little coffee shops... my favourite bookstore...find new smoothies and cocktail recipes and make them with him...talk a lot more than we have in nearly 1 year... share parts of my life we haven't explored previously... hear the stories he hasn't shared and refuses to discuss on the phone...
I like my VS...but I fear that this will make or break the fragile friendship we have built over the months...that has taken a lot on his part... and mine too... I fear that one word, one gesture, one move...may send us spiralling on the wrong path or send us on two different paths... I like my VS...but I am not willing to lose what we have...
So I am counting down to Friday but I also fear what the possibilities may be... A Yes will send me in panic...No will make me sad... But I am still counting all the same...
I'll let on why I counting the sleep days till Friday... It is decision day... to be or not to be... On Sunday, he said that Wednesday will define the opportunities... Today he says he won't know till Friday... but I am patient... I will wait and hear what Friday brings...
I am undecided how I should feel... One part of me wants to hear it is possible...the other part of dreads the possibility... what will I do...because it is a little awkward...a little strange... I like my VS...very much... much more than I can ever let on... I am comfortable with the strange friendship we have and prefer to keep it that way.... the compulsive helper part of me wants to look after him, the sane side of me wants to keep it safe...as safe as sane can be... the dangerous part of me wants to explore possibilities...and the safe part of me wants to keep it even and let it be...
He says Friday will decide if he can come soon... I am happy he is thinking about it...and all excited about showing him my favourite places in Jozi...my cosy little coffee shops... my favourite bookstore...find new smoothies and cocktail recipes and make them with him...talk a lot more than we have in nearly 1 year... share parts of my life we haven't explored previously... hear the stories he hasn't shared and refuses to discuss on the phone...
I like my VS...but I fear that this will make or break the fragile friendship we have built over the months...that has taken a lot on his part... and mine too... I fear that one word, one gesture, one move...may send us spiralling on the wrong path or send us on two different paths... I like my VS...but I am not willing to lose what we have...
So I am counting down to Friday but I also fear what the possibilities may be... A Yes will send me in panic...No will make me sad... But I am still counting all the same...
Monday, September 24, 2007
Upside down
Funny how the best intentions get shelved... How you know something's not good for you and you still insist on it... I have always known...don't need a soothsayer to tell me that this isn't good for my health...but .... my ears have suddenly stopped receiving signals... my head's stopped processing...
One minute we are up... the other minute we are down... wondering, asking, waiting.... Why do I do this to myself? Why do I let my pulse go up and down...why do I let it happen to me? I don't know... I stopped wondering...because I don't just get it...
I have always been the smart one... always figured things out...always analysed it...and let it all come together... But I am stumped on this...
What do I want? I don't know... or rather I don't want to share or be honest to myself... Saying it, puts it in black and white and makes it real... that way I can't walk away from it and shrug it off... will make me look stupid.. but I am already stupid..why bother how I look...
Rambling I am...but can't help it... trying to clear my head after tonight's conversation..but I am not succeeding... Maybe I shouldn't bother... because at the end of the day... claering my head, doesn't clear my heart or does it? Who knows...
One minute we are up... the other minute we are down... wondering, asking, waiting.... Why do I do this to myself? Why do I let my pulse go up and down...why do I let it happen to me? I don't know... I stopped wondering...because I don't just get it...
I have always been the smart one... always figured things out...always analysed it...and let it all come together... But I am stumped on this...
What do I want? I don't know... or rather I don't want to share or be honest to myself... Saying it, puts it in black and white and makes it real... that way I can't walk away from it and shrug it off... will make me look stupid.. but I am already stupid..why bother how I look...
Rambling I am...but can't help it... trying to clear my head after tonight's conversation..but I am not succeeding... Maybe I shouldn't bother... because at the end of the day... claering my head, doesn't clear my heart or does it? Who knows...
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