Thursday, 3 December 2015

The One Who Comes and Goes



 

The One Who Comes and Goes

Last night
while the world rested
we were in bed, wrapped
by our all.
We locked eyes
and hearts
and giggled and tickled.

This morning,
your presence is gone
and your aura has no trail,
not even the echo
of expected laughter -
a carry-over from last night’s.

You’re the one who comes
and goes at will.
This door is yours.



(c) Bura-Bari Nwilo 2015

Tuesday, 10 November 2015

LETTER TO MY OGONI SISTER ON BEING CROWNED MISS NIGERIA 2015


Dear Sister,

It is with absolute goodwill and sheer concern for my own kith and kin that I have decided to write to you today. I mean well, even if my language may not be clear-cut and sexy as you are. Ah. I see your image in my head. In short, since yesterday, I have been dreaming about you; how you walk and the victory smile which rented your face when you were announced winner. *inserts smile and dies.

I hope you find time to read this letter and write back to me. *inserts a wink

You know, life has changed since last night when you won that prestigious crown as Miss Nigeria, 2015. Hmm. Some bad belle people have been comparing MBGN to Miss Nigeria. But don’t mind them. That’s all they are good at, analyzing. Ah. Life is sweet oh. I am sure you will be making shakara anyhow now. You’ll be like: mbok, I rep Cross River oh but I am Ogoni to the bone. Ah. To the bone, chai, that line is sweet, whalai.

You will drive around in that your new SUV and then travel to everywhere with that your plenty millions. Ah. In my next world ehn, I will come as a beautiful woman with fine legs, great height and envious nose. I think I will try and be intelligent too.

I know it doesn’t mean much, but just in case it is required, I will do my best to acquire a cute accent. Sister, please come closer let me share something about accent with you. See ehn, just go into any bank in Nigeria and use those thick dark glasses and cover your eyes and speak anything that would make you sound like a bird and there, everyone would respect you. They would say: “Hey. See that one oh. She is one of those people who have gone to oyinbo land and have returned with light skin and yeye accent. But don’t mind them. What would kill them is already in their faces. Accent is sweet oh.


I watched as you just knack book and dribble people like a proud Ogoni girl. Ah. You are fine, Leesi. Yes oh. That is what I will call you. You see that Pamela something? Me, I don’t buy it at all. You are a sweet Ogoni woman and your native name is what I’d hold on to.

Before I forget, please this is the reason I decided to write you this letter. It’s about boys; some yeye boys wey dey the Nigerian music industry only to give beauty queens belle. I am writing you to be careful of wolfs with microphone and cheap six packs that I can buy anywhere in Ariaria market.

You see, these boys just sit in front of their televisions during pageantry. They are not even concerned enough to buy tickets and watch you people appear in pants and high hilled shoes oh. No. They want to stay there and watch the winner then they would tell their yeye publicist to look for the winner’s phone number and call them that they want to wish them happy winning.

There are two famous people you have to avoid by all means if you want us, your kinsmen to remain behind you. One is yellow with dada and mumu six packs. Hmm. My sister, I know that you have been in Nigeria. In short, one bird whispered to me that you are in service, serving Nigeria, battling mosquitoes and bad toilet and bathroom wey dey camp but this guy bad well well.  Him bad pass everything bad. The day that our former MBGN was in Yenagoa shaking like fowl that had cold, trying to answer simple questions about wetin she go do when she win, this man was looking at yansh in South Africa in the name of shooting a music video. When the fine yellow girl come win, him no waste time. He dropped his magical rod inside the small innocent hole and chai, sister, a pikin was deposited. That is so wrong.

You must stay away from him. Any show he organises in this world must be avoided. If you did not know that he was in the show and you eventual found him there, abeg, tell the organisers that shit is hungering you, that you have to leave. You can go to Bodo too and recruit 15 local boys to guard you. I don’t want to hear stories.

There is another man who has announced to the world that he is now a repentant married man. Ah. Hot lie. Please, stay away from him too. Don’t buy his album. The image on that album has made someone pregnant before. I know the girl. She is still looking for a way to take care of the baby. This man has many faces although he has agreed that there are only two. Ah. He is bad. He is slim, and tall. You know what slim men carry between their legs shey? Avoid him. He can bring your holy land to disrepute in two minutes. He can enlarge the narrowest pathway by a single visit. When you see him on TV, please sprinkle the blood of Jesus and bind and cast any appearance that may come in the dream.

You have to be at alert. Put a small Gideon bible under your pillow before you sleep and if time permits, scream “chisos, chisos, chisos” seven times. Find a bottle of olive oil and drink it too.

It has also come to my notice that some ladies love other ladies. Ah. Don’t do what will make Bari have sleepless night. If any woman opens her breasts for you, cower and help them cover it. They are end time children. Don’t play that with them.



Sister Leesi, it is our pleasure that Chisos has chosen you to wipe our tears off our eyes. You remember the many oil spillages in your village, it has been Bari who has shielded you from drinking poisonous water so you would live and make him proud. Biko, make him proud.

Embrace all things that would add value to human life. In all you do, stay humble and motivated. Yours would be a beautifully eventful journey and do well to send me a Facebook request too.

Thank you.  
Bura-Bari Nwilo

Your Ogoni Brother in the Lord  

Sunday, 25 October 2015

A ROAD LESS TRAVELLED (poem)



A ROAD LESS TRAVELLED

We have become unaware
Of the presence of multitudes
Of voices that speak divergent languages-

-Of spectators whose opinions we don’t need.

We have become odd-
For what they seek
Is not what we give

And what they see
Is not who we are.

We are like a road
Less travelled,
Free of footprints
But not of essence

(c) Bura-Bari Nwilo 2015

Friday, 23 October 2015

WHAT A MAN CAN’T FORGIVE: a.v.a.g.i.n.a.s.t.o.r.y

WHAT A MAN CAN’T FORGIVE


I’m a man. I’m few years below 30. I think from 25, everything that needs to grow in the human anatomy should have approached its full height. But I’m also aware that medical conditions can be responsible for some delays or so.

But what do you think flares me up to a state of un-forgiveness? Let me give you a clue. It has to be something that punctures my ego – the manliness. And let your unclean mind wander afar, like a Nigerian opposition politician who is trying to understand where his next meal would come from.

To me, a lot could flare me up to un-forgiveness. And do I think same may flare up other men? Maybe. This is what may flare me up and lead me to un-forgiveness. It is not my weakness for fried plantain and gizzard which when taken away, I may have to take up my late grandmother’s pestle. It would definitely not be the partial or total takeover of my girlfriend. In sincerity, between man and what man believes in, I can’t forgive a large vagina in whose presence I look like a midget, especially when I was made to believe it was a less frequently travelled road.

I mean, it is not a one-way street where blames ought to be heaped on one poor soul. Either my penis is so small or the vagina is ridiculously national or global. And since I know the size of my worktool, and since I have made several consultations and I have got many testimonies that it is average, not too big and not close to being addressed as small, I feel I’ll never forgive a whale sized vagina.

Let me tell you what kills me with it. I am there, excited that I would be a conqueror, that I would drop the jeans and assist the bringing down of my partner’s and then give in my best but when its jacket is worn and the tool is inserted, and I feel lonely, like a man in a tunnel, like if I said a word is said in there it would echo and somehow I’d be lost? A large vagina must be a great turn-off for a lot of men. Maybe that’s why those who are married and have had kids with their spouses cheat. They go out to look for tighter corners where they would feel good, struggle through the sacred passage and make someone moan for real.

Sadly, a woman isn’t born with an automatic Pacific sized vagina. Na. Maybe childbirth, which I feel is the major cause and the unawareness of some women who have had babies to take care of their priceless gifts. A lot is wrong with marriage. In it people become relaxed. A man or woman, who usually shaved pubic hairs and others, barely takes good care of him/herself in marriage and then Things Fall Apart.

The vagina is quite sensitive. I understand the size may not matter but psychologically, when I log in and I can’t feel the two walls rubbing against my joystick, and the stick is like some  misappropriated N20 billion that can’t be found, I begin to sense a lot of things crumbling.


I once had an irritating sex. It was around the less developed stage of my life. So this beauty and I agreed on sex and I was offered an amazing posture. The backdoor is simply great. That was the door I was given. I had inserted and had started gaming and was almost getting exhausted when the evil chic asked if I had inserted the penis that she was not feeling anything. I fell flat in utter disbelief; was my dick so small or was the passage same as the one described in the holy book, the one that leads to Hell Avenue?
Passages ought to be moderate. I can stand befall anything but not one that swallows me. Not even love can keep me in such marriage/ union and I am sure a lady may enjoy much care too but once a joystick doesn’t stimulate a thing in her, she’d probably walk away.
Life’s too short ni.

 

Saturday, 3 October 2015

Pictures from the Sand Artist



Zina Saro-Wiwa’s gallery, the Boys' Quarters Project Space occupies what used to be her father’s office on Aggrey Road in Port Harcourt. Today, the three rooms space in the two storey building play host to arts lovers, something a bit different from when Ken Saro-Wiwa worked from there. His has been business and then the politics of decrying the devastation on the environment caused by activities of oil exploration. Today, the blend of colours and light gives exhibitions an alluring feel.   



Though the inner office of the late writer’s office has been transformed slightly, the adjustment being the installation of a projector which plays themed photos, light fittings, his desk, chair and name tag are still intact – some rare antique you’d say. 


What makes an interesting visit to the gallery is the location. Just around the corner, from the Lagos Bus Stop junction is the unending fence of the Port Harcourt Prison where Mr Saro-Wiwa was detained until his eventual execution. And while in the gallery, the sometimes disturbing sound of unwanted music from shops on the busy Aggrey Road adds its own blend of colour to the beautiful pictures or crafts inside the gallery.



But Ms Saro-Wiwa’s space isn’t just a set-up in memory of her father. It is for humanity, as artists with exceptional works display them to the public. Currently on display are works by Charles Udofia – a first time exhibitionist. Mr Udofia makes portrait from sand. Yes. He gets the right type of sand and applies it tactically to form the subject of his work. 

Mr Udofia who is from Akwa Ibom State is a self-trained, no-studio artist who combines trading in a small shop where he displays his art works almost side by side with his wares. During my visit, the second since the space was opened; I met Dumnwii Fadeh, the project’s country manager. He shared his passion for the arts and matching ideas which brought him in contact with Zina. We spent time taking pictures.  


According to Fadeh, the centre has had five exhibitions which come up thrice in a year. The gallery is opened Wednesdays – Saturdays – 11am to 6pm. 


Saturday, 26 September 2015

The Age of Bobby Rak



Provinces have territorial lords. In the arts, Port Harcourt has been, relatively, warming the bench. In music video making, it has been a boring time on TV until the Rak era. 

Enthusiasts pick up cheap and available cameras and shoot whatever it was that was in front of them, poorly edit them and its goes on air. There is little attention on how steady a shot appears, the intensity of focus on the subject, re-dressing of not-camera-worthy images, and angles too.
To a TV critic here in the Garden City, everyday in front of the TV would be complemented with constant headache and plea for the world to come to an end, so maybe there would be a reset of the universe, so maybe, magically, better things might appear on TV, again.
But since art is diversifying, music videos and photography are taking centre stage. And Bobby Rak is emerging as a crowned cinematography lord of the oil rich city of Port Harcourt, particularly because he is dedicated and his works are pieces that can compete with works from around the continent.
His choice of location and artistic flexibility which allows him to work with other professionals based in the city on his set puts him in a dignified class. And when he is not behind a camera capturing an ideal moment, Mr Rak is karate, personified. It is obvious in his walks, his hand gestures and short films.
Karate is my first love, he said. Then film. Then others. His epiphany occurred in 2005 when he was playing around, recording actions. His ‘backyard’ videos got the attention of Charles Granville, a musical artist of the gospel sub-genre, then Hilda Dokubo. In Hilda’s home, he had to answer the question of what to do with his teeming interest in film. His response was expected of a young man. He wanted to be a filmmaker. But being a filmmaker in Nigeria is a tasking venture, just as it is elsewhere. But what makes the Nigeria’s perspective exclusive is the lack of standard movie studios. Everything is independent; including marketing and distribution and no one would give a better scope into the industry than Hilda Dokubo who had spent a greater part of adulthood on screen in Nigeria. 

Bobby took home the advice to start small. From that moment a new man was born. He would begin seeking for jobs and he would hire cameras to cover events and after subtracting expenditures, his gain would propel his next move. About how he picked interest in editing, which came before his love for camera, he had seen Iyke Harris at work. When he approached him to know more about editing, he was guided. He would always refer to him when he met a dead-end. But this is his story.
Today, Bobby Rak is an identifiable brand with digital filmmaking in Port Harcourt. He has not stopped there. He has created a Whatsapp group of professionals with roots in Port Harcourt but based around the world to see how they can rekindle interests and sustain the craft of making film. Their first project would be a short film exhibition which would hold in 2016. It would bringing together filmmakers and serve as retreat for their skills, Bobby said.
When asked for his name in Ikwerre, Bobby laughed and said we could skip that. But he appears honest and carefree with humility. He is married and the union has a daughter who is slightly over a year old.  
Bobby’s interest in the big screen is something that’s gaining weight. His strategies are on course. His first plan of being the people’s choice has worked so far. He is gathering momentum for the next which is feature films. He felt coming through the music video door would enable him again enough followership than moving straight into films. This he is positive would make a successful project, especially from the Garden City, his home.
Tucked quietly in the Elekahia Housing Estate, Bobby barely has an alone time. When he does, he must be too stern, to scare away the teeming younger artist who surround him until late in the night. When I met him, he was negotiating a job that would have him film some dancers who had qualified for the Glo sponsored ‘Dance with Peter.’ Seated a swivel chair in a simple house attire, his master -desktop computer sputtering images of a photo shoot he finished within the week, Bobby listened to the concepts and plea to assist the dance crew. But inside the quiet young man who sat listening is an enthusiastic learner and creator.
When we eventually spoke, he showed me a short film he was editing. The story is of a home run by an abusive father who has chased away his wife with constant battering and who has raped his teenage daughter. Bobby said it was a collaborative effort with an NGO to help sensitize people on the effect of abuse on the psychology of the children in marriage.
Another project he showed me was one he filmed in villages in Bonny earlier this year, about the effect of oil exploration. Villages in the oil rich Bonny barely had drinkable water and electricity. While gas flared all day, killing the ambiance created by moonless nights, the people of the village only had yellow glowing light that only created heat and pollution.
By the time I was due to leave, the neighbourhood was quiet but for light bulbs from the houses that lined to make up Second Avenue. Everyone would be home, in front of the television. One or two of the families would watch some of the creations of Bobby Rak. And hopefully, Rak won’t be on his computer, he would be home, next door to his studio, playing with his daughter, hoping for some ideas that would lead to a better project.  
#Before our meeting, he had responded to our usual Ten Question for Sundays.


At what point do you say you have an ideal shot when filming or photographing?
At the point when proper interpretation has been achieved for whatever concept i'm using for the shot
You are based in the city of Port Harcourt, what makes this city lovable, from your perspective?
Port Harcourt is home and there is no place like home.
I’ve seen some of your works, my favourite is Izurukeme by D Smart. Do you have a favourite of your works?
Yes I have a favourite for now. My favourite is OH MY BABY by BUKWILD DA IKWERRIAN. Reason is that the project was made possible by a massive collaboration of artistic people based here in Port Harcourt (same as Izurukeme) and the working atmosphere was friendly, fun and totally enjoyable coupled with the fact that the music is indigenous, Ikwerre to be precise which happens to be my tribe.
I particularly love the fact that you collaborated with Eddy Isaacs. How was the effort? 
Working with Eddy was everything I expected it to be. We succeeded in interpreting the concept I created.
When someone contracts you on a music video project, what do you consider, the lyric, rhythm or the personality?
I consider all of them.
You are a filmmaker. When would you be making your first feature film debut?
As soon as I have the means. I have a couple of short films to my credit and I believe a feature will come soon.
What kind of movie would you love to make?
Action/comedy
Artistically, everyone loves to move to Lagos, the centre of entertainment. Would you be making such moves soon?

Technology has made the world smaller. I will expand not move
What’s your most preferred play tool while filming or photographing?
The canon EOS 5D Mark iii for now
If you were to make a list of 5 music videos I would catch you watching, who would make that list?
Tough question oh! I watch rock music videos ‘cus they exhibit a lot of creativity... but let me restrict myself to Nigeria... Gollibe by Flavour, directed by Clarence Peters.
The One by Pelli, directed by Adasa Cookey.
Show Me your Rozay by Ketchup, directed by Adasa Cookey
Izurukeme by D’smart
and
Oh My Baby by Bukwild