@ Crumbs and Coffee

tud

One the few times that I have gone to a cafe seeking free internet, I have always chosen a seat where I can either observe whoever comes into the space or whoever is passing by. This is partly because I am very adverse to having my back to people; must stem from a past life experience or something of being stabbed or something or maybe even the fact that I always have my earphones in and will jump if you touch me. In any case, I love to sit and watch people.

I am kind of an oddity. Work well with crowds but always feel like I am on the outside looking in. Part introvert. Part extrovert. Talk alot but very careful that I say only what I want you to hear. Been called weird but I choose the term "eccentric".



So I sit and watch people, imaginging where they are coming from, going to or thinking. I look at what they wear and craft stories around what I see. The human being is such a fascinating thing to study because it lives within its own consciousness and thus its perception of the world around it is as varied as there are grains of sand on this earth. Yes, sometimes, these views intercept and there is a collective consciousness about the same thing; think, a family, a community, a people or a nation. Still each one is unique and powerful.

Just one of the many things I think about sitting in the window of Adams Morgan's "Crumbs & Coffee" looking out on 18th street and hoping that my sitting stance is lady like and not the reason this homeless guy keeps waving at me.

Come out and get your read on...

The Farafina Trust Creative Writing Worshop ends with a literary evening on May 29th at the Civic Centre, Ozumba Mbadiwe, Victoria Island, Lagos.

Time is 3pm.

The event will be featuring readings by Chika Unigwe, author of The Phoenix; South African writer Niq Mhlongo, author of Dog Eat Dog; Ghanian author and playwright, Ama Ata Aidoo; Caine Prize winner, Bard Fellow and director of the Chinua Achebe Centre for African Writers and Artists, Binyavanga Wainaina and a host of others.

Admission to the event is free.

Casting Call

Immediate Casting Call for comedic short.

One Male (20-24), race undefined.
One female (20-24), race: Black/african or Asian.

Unpaid. Send in headshots, CV and availability to baniproductions@gmail.com.

Seriously Speaking

I had the chance a couple months ago, to interview rising Asian American band, Seriously. Two months and alot of wahala later, I finished the edit, all by myself and here it is.
Go to to the site to comment and vote it up. maybe I will make it on TV...

The Fight for Freedom

When I first heard the story of Lisa Ling and her colleague were being held on suspicion of espionage by the North Korean government after they were spotted filming an investigative news feature on the border of Korea and China, I wondered aloud what would possess them to go so far into dangerous territory. Yes, I admire the courage that is necessary when one quests for the truth but I likened it to the two women wandering naively into Hitler's territory thinking that they would not be arrested by the Gestapo.

I was even more intrigued by the media storm and its amazing climax when the former president of the United States, President Bill Clinton had to personally go to north Korea to secure their release. By then, the two women had been put on a hasty trial, found guilty and sentences to twelve years imprisonment. For standing on the wrong soil.

It made me wonder if at all, any Nigerian had ever been in the same situation, seeking some diplomatic intervention and if at all anything had been done. I have no grand illusions of our ambassadors' abilities to help Nigerian citizens; as we all know, most of those who are imprisoned abroad, really did get in trouble.

Still, I was, as I have been many times, fascinated by the American consciousness where thousands worked tirelessly to secure the release of the two women and get them home. Would it not be nice to know that your people love you no matter what? And would fight for you?

They are so busy fighting each other for themselves.....

One of the reasons I might move to Cali

It seems all the creative minds that I would like to work with are there....

ILLEGAL - 2007 Tribeca Film Festival from Andrew Oh on Vimeo.

Alone in a Crowd

Picture from here

It is so easy not to be seen. Even when you walk right in front of their eyes, stand by their side, reach for the same cellophane wrapped plastic spoon to stir the very same scalding building liquid they have purchased for their daily morning cafeine fix. It is so easy that it is alarming.

You don't have to put in much effort, you know. To disappear. makes one wonder: If I leave, who would care?

It is so easy not to make a sound. Even when your lips are moving and words are tumbling out at the speed of a torrential rain's downpour. Even when you exhaust countless cellphone minutes on calls to nowhere about nothing. Even when the words merge into a hollow scream. It is so easy that it is alarming.

You don't have to put in much effort, you know. To disappear. makes one wonder: If I leave, who would care?

It is so easy to be forgotten. Even when your history reads like the inside of a novel. Even when the pictures cataloguing the memories fill albums, one after countless other. Even when your names are carved with a crooked knife in the stained concrete steps outside of the old buildings that you stood infront of. It is so easy that it is alarming.

You did not put in much effort, know. So I think you should disappear. Makes me wonder. If you leave, would I still care?

What next

I have had a nickname for years as a result of my hair. It is....Bumbum Poullet. That is, the back end of a chicken. As in, the hair on my head is so thin and feathery that it resembles the hair on the butt of a chicken. For the most part, I have learned to live with it. In my childhood, I looked on in silent, grieving envy as classmates showed up to class on Monday sporting the weekly hairstyle. I said nothing when my "suku" (cornrows in a bun) did not quite make it into the scrunchie or when my "kolese" (cornrows facing forward) never fell over my face and instead stood like a row of pimples on my shiny forehead. I endured it all because I knew my time would come.

For it had been written that once I graduated from secondary school, I would be allowed to whatever I wanted with my hair. I could put in a perm, extensions, straw, sand or anything that I wanted to make up for my lack of natural, thick, fast growing tresses.

And for the most part I did. Had so much fun. Thought I was the sexiest thing ever.

Then I moved to the United States.

And doing my hair was the same cost as some kid's school fees...

So i tried to learn to perm my hair myself. Lost 1/3 of it.

Then I got a friend to braid it. Lost 1/3 of it.

Got a professional to braid it. Got some of it back

Put in extensions with glue. Lost 1/2 of it again.

Then I cut it all off. So lost most of it.

It grew and I permed it back.

Then I put in a few weaves... the whole front of my hair left me when I took the weaves out.

Put in braids....

And now they must come off.

I am now faced with a few scenarios:

As I have not permed my hair in donkey months, most of it is back to its natural stat. However, I have no hair line. At this rate, I can join the Balogun Market chapter of Lagos Market women and fit right in with my hair line that starts from the center of my brain.

So,

Should I take out my braids, perm my hair and cut it into a style so there is no weight on the front of my head?

Put in another round of braids...pick-and-drop with curls

or a full head of weave...so i don't have to put in any more chemicals and I can just keep my head natural.

The costs vary, the out come varies...but the hair remains poullet-esque.

I have been eyeing the Victoria Beckham cut for a while...

What say you, my dear friend?

Looking at my watch

11:44 pm/ Tuesday/ May 11:
Contemplating whether to eat something. Don't want to be hungry in the morning. No snacks. Should really stop eating at odd hours... have a paper to write. Let me get my supporting materials out. I need to work out. Should stop by Payless and try to get a pair of cheap sneakers. Payless has become Paymore...silly people...the shoes will not even last beyond Summer so why are they being so expensive. That is the whole point of shopping there...or maybe I should just invest and go to Foot Locker...I should open my own Foot Locker...it is at moments like this that I miss Tejuosho Market and the wonderful options that our Aba based creators provide...maybe I should eat something....

Baby Steps

I have been anticipating the wide release date of this documentary, "Babies" with mixed feelings. On one hand, I cannot wait to see what the director was able to capture in almost two years of following four children from diverse backgrounds from around the world from their delivery till when they took their first steps.


On the other hand, I was a bit miffed that the African baby that was chosen came from the mud deserts of Namibia and thus enforces the stereotype of how people live in Africa.
I have watched a few interviews with the documentary filmmaker and there does not seem to be any malice or preconceived notions on his part...and so far, I have not heard anything stereotypical from the interviewers (if that is a word). When I can, I will go see it, how about you?

No words...

What is there to say?
Nothing.
What about you?

Use Your Bed Nets. Keep Mosquitoes out.

PSA I shot and directed for the Remi Caxton-Naibi Foundation as part of their Malaria prevention initiative to coincide with World Malaria Day.
The first one, I edited myself.
The second one was done by a professional. Support the initiative.
Use Your Bed Nets. Keep Mosquitoes out.

RemiFoundation.org from stoiQa on Vimeo.

When it is your turn

So, people who know me, know that I have had some choice words about the general level of ignorance that I tend to find among Americans about what goes on outside of their boarders. Almost everyone who is not white has stories a dime a dozen about some stupid thing that was said to them regarding their ethnicity.



I mean for Asians, they get the chin-chun-why-r-ur-eyes-so-small-u-eat-dogs-r-u-all-good-at-math, or that they are all Chinese. For Africans, we get the inquiries about war, poverty, disease and whether or not we have wildlife game reserves in our backyards and we swing Tarzan-style on our way to school. Middle eastern people have to answer about Islam and terrorism. I am not sure what South Americans get but I am sure it would go along the lines of Tacos and Immigration issues. In any case, we get them all the time, roll our eyes and retreat behind our walls of derision and self importance, imagining that we ourselves would never make such a mistake.




And we mostly never do.
Or at least, I don't.
I am quite geographically enlightened.

Which is why, I was stunned to hear myself asking a colleague at work if Panama was close to the Philippines....







And I was serious too


Even more amazing was that for a good minute, in the world map I had drawn in my head, Phillipines was somewhere next to Mexico and Brazil. How that was working out in there is probably a research topic for another day but I could not believe that I could be so clueless and then so vocal about it.







I mean, I was at a table full of superiors....
Aargh, I guess I had to learn a lesson on compassion and respect.


People will always ask stupid questions. And if they do so of you, reply politely with the correct answer and thank your stars that you did not make the mistake and that you knew the answer.


And FYI:
Panama is in Central America. Close To Costa Rica, you know at the bridge connecting North America and South America....

Phillipines is in Asia

And I am going to read a book

The time will come

There will come a time
When you will know my name
When you will know my touch
When you will know my taste
When you will know my smell
When you will know my sound
When you will know my feel
And when the time comes
It will be like you always did

Like there was no time before
Like there was no meeting
Like we just were
We just did
We are just being

There will come a time
When you will hold my hand
When you will feel my warmth
When you will start my laugh
When you will sing my song
When you will quiet my screams
When you will trigger my heart

And when the time comes
It will be like you always did

Like there was no time before
Like there was no meeting
Like we just were
We just did
We are just being

Till the time comes
I alone know your name
I know your age
I know your place
I know your scent
I know your face
I know
I know
I know
I know

Casting Call

Looking for 1 male/female (ages 8-10, with an African accent for an unpaid PSA shoot to benefit the Remi Caxton-Naibi foundation's drive to increase awareness on the use of bednets for the prevention of malaria. The shoot is to take place this weekend April 17th 2010.

Please forward resume, head shot and contact to ebaraje@gmail.com for consideration.

G-40 Summit

Did the best I could with a dicy situation and footage...

I survived...flash back...join me in twenty minutes

Co-hosting this morning:

Here's the direct link to the show we're doing: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/verastic/2010/04/10/i-survived

To participate, you can do so in three ways:

1. Call in - 1.646.929.1905

2. E-mail your comments: radio@verastic.com

3. Text your comments: 1.443.934.9039

There is a live, interactive chat room during the show (but you'll have to become members of blog talk radio (which is free by the way) to chat.

See you guys soon

The W: A lesson on human discontent

With lighting and decor more suited to the set of the vampire guilty pleasure HBO series, True Blood, downtown Minneapolis' The W @ the Foshay was like an unabashed seduction of the senses. Its owners wanted you the visitor to feel very specific things: decadence, opulence, indulgence and if you so dared, your wildest fantasies come to life. For me, my first reaction was, how could I have been coming to Minneapolis for the past four years and not known that such a hotel exists.

Because you see, every time I did visit Minneapolis for the bi annual Eckankar seminar, my movements were restricted to the Hilton on Marquette Avenue, the ingenious skywalk that protected me from the city's unforgiving harsh weather and the convention center where most of the events would be held. Somehow, and maybe because I never inquired, I never heard about the W or knew that it was just a block away.

I was to share accomodations with friends--a good way to cut down costs--for three nights but because none of us could get ourselves and finances together on time, we booked a bit late, the result of which was that we were able to get two nights in our old faithful seminar hotel, The Hilton and one night at the W. None of us had heard about the W and we were just grateful that we were able to get a room at a very discounted price, last minute.

Our room's statement of purpose was clear: This is not where you bring your kids. This is not even where you come to relax. You come here to indulge. From state-of-the-art slate grey tiles and shower heads that moved by sensors, to a bathroom walls that would make the dedicated voyeur weep with pleasure, walls blackened for effect and every technological gadget you can think of. We spent almost an hour, just messing with the stuff. Anyone watching us would not know that between us three, was medical degree, an engineering degree and an architecture degree. Even the faucets came with a manual. And to drive home the point that the hotel was not for the "good" boys and girls, we had a bar stocked with the most number of alcohol brands I had ever seen outside of a liquor store.

All the time we had been coming, we had always been happy to stay at the Hilton. It was convenient and it was quite nice but two minutes into the lobby and we began calculating how we could afford the next trip and this time stay at The W, the entire weekend. When we had to check in to the Hilton, the next day, we did so with a sigh, nitpicking at everything in our room. That was when we noticed holes in the curtains or that there were some lumps in the mattress. Or that the soap provided for us to wash our hands had no exotic scent.

In short, The W had stripped The Hilton naked and spanked it public....and from the way The W was designed, I am sure it liked to do just that.

I was just tickled by the fact that before this, if you had asked me the best place to stay, I would have been singing the Hilton's praises even before you finished your question. I still like the Hilton, but now I want the Foshay. Talk about discontent....sigh.

What are you lusting after now and pushing to the back burner in other to have it?

Boston and Seriously the band

Went to Boston over the weekend and fell in love with the city....from the interior of a taxi cab. I was in town to interview one of my favourite bands ever--and I don't listen to bands at all--the amazing, Seriously The Band. Yes, that is their name: Seriously the Band.

I was able to sit down with Chris Pham (lead vocals), Joshua Baek (electric guitar), Nathan Park (bass guitar) and Philip Park (drums and viola) and even got to hang out with them albeit for a very short time spent walking briskly through the cold with them trying to help me keep up as I labored over cobbled stones in heels.

I did get to visit the Quincy market. It's this huge food court that looks like it has been around for the better part of a century but was surprisingly, as I was told by one of the vendors, only about a quarter of a century old.

Bumped into an African woman who came to speak to me just because of my hair. I have on braids, done by a Nigerian friend of mine and you know we braid, THE RIGHT WAY. She was crestfallen, when I told her that I was not from Boston and that my friend was not in the area to do her hair for her...there is always a market for people who can do hair for black people in cities where the whites are the majority.

I visited the Northeastern University Campus and was so blown away by the facilities. Even though it was unfair, I could not help but compare it to Howard University, my alma mater and for the first time in a long time, I was hungry to be back in school, learning something. And the count down to grad school begins....or not.

It was too cold for me to really explore and my friend and I are thinking of going back in the summer when the winter has been completely chased away and we can go around and be shameless tourists....

Had fun...even though I was battling some trepidation over some personal issues. Nonetheless, it was a nice quick trip, one that I will take again.

How was your weekend?

Pride comes before a fall

picture from here

In two consecutive years, I had roommates while in College that made me constantly mad because our personal levels of hygiene were on different scales. One came from a home where I assumed she did not have to do any housework and so was unaccustomed to cleaning up after herself and the one after that, spent more time in malls and on her make up than she did, keeping herself clean. The irony on the second roommate was that she was most sought after by alot of guys and I always wondered how they were never deterred by the fact that to get into her room, they had to mount the summit that was her dirty clothes. We never fought, but I always harbored resentment that I was constantly having to clean the bathroom of hair and make up powder.

The make up was the most annoying thing for me. She had every conceivable beauty product from every major brand --infact, she had a book that showed how to create different looks in numbered products, brushes and applicators, of which she had them all. Every morning was an unbreakable regiment of curling hair weaves and face paint. And the staining of my counter to a dirty, disgusting brown. She used powdered and liquid foundations that dripped and splattered, brushes that shed all over the place, swabs that were always laying around, eyeshadow palettes that were always falling out of their holders, hair brushes that had more hair sticking out of them than glued to her scalp where they ought to be and so many other things that I had no idea the nature of their purpose.

I remember saying to myself, "I can never be like this".

Flash forward to today. My bathroom, though not as dirty is littered with the makeup brands that I can afford. And what else? The fallen powders of my foundations. I now have the same disorderly space. In the morning, I am in a hurry and don't have time to clean up after myself so I leave everything lying around: curling irons, make up brushes, tubes, lotions, lipsticks, perfume, combs/ brushes, pins and whatever I need to make myself feel pretty and presentable for my day. My bathroom has been destroyed by my own daily regimen.

I wish I had not been so quik to criticize her. I do however keep my bathroom as clean as I can. Everything gets washed and wiped down every other day with industrial strength disinfectant wipes and I have two huge make up bags to throw everything in but I can't help hearing my own voice in my head on those days when I come in from a long day out to see that in my haste to leave hours earlier, I left everything out and about...

You have the same experience? Is there something that you used to chide someone about that you, yourself now do?