Cybersex

This is a censored topic which most people would rather discuss within the enclosure of their bedrooms than in a public medium such as a blog. But the purpose of my blogging is to enlighten readers using real life citations while it also entertains. The fun that comes with Cybersex may sure be inestimable (for individuals who engage in it); but the evils that come alongside it, cannot be overemphasized. A friend shared her experience and I think it is worth featuring in this blog to enlighten the folks (especially, those who's got some reputation to uphold) sticking to Cybersex as easy means to get relief during horny periods.

My friend, who incidentally lives in the same estate where I stay, visited me early one Sunday morning, in tears … broken down emotionally and physically (thank God, she is not on facebook). As soon as I saw her, it was obvious that she had a burden and my heart skipped. As I led her into my living room, I strongly wished that I would be able to help. I shook internally as I led the way and prayed fervently in my heart that there was no loss of life, at least. I was confused. It was 7.05a.m and I was dressing up to go for mass. Well, I knew at once that I had missed the day’s mass; but then, I was also going to help someone in trouble. As we sat down, she looked at me and asked to speak with me in private as she was not sure that the living room was conducive. So we both went into my bedroom and sat on the bed.

She broke down and wept bitterly … I was disillusioned. Here sits a cheerful, sleek and attractive woman that wears a broad smile at all times. I consoled her and pleaded that she lets out her challenge at least, so she could get relief, and we can find a way around it. She has two sons: 16-year old and 13-year old while her husband lives in the UK and visits yearly. She sobbed for some minutes and began her story:

“Ife … You know I don’t even know where and how to start but I am in trouble”, she began. 
“It’s okay. Don’t worry. Just let me know what it is and we can find a way to handle this”, I pleaded with her. 

And then she continued. She was continuously indulging in Cybersex with her husband using her laptop. Apparently, she uses her webcam and sits/stands nude to entertain her hubby who was mostly horny (according to him). Now, while manipulating the webcam, she had unconsciously clicked the “Capture” tab on several occasions, which captured different postures of her nudity. She did not realize this until that fateful morning. Her eldest son was home on mid-term break (he attends a Senior high school and stays in the boarding house). My friend worked the previous night using her laptop and left it up to have a brief nap which eventually turned into a whole night’s rest. She woke up at 6a.m and discovered that there was a strange pen-drive stuck in one of the ports in her laptop. Curious, she opened the pen-drive and discovered some nude pictures of herself!

At first, she could not believe they were her nude postures, but looking closely, the truth became obvious … she was shocked beyond words. She tried to figure out what could have happened and the closest guess was that she must have clicked the Capture tab in error while having Cybersex with her hubby. She quickly ran into her son’s room and woke him up. She questioned how the boy got the pictures and he confessed that he copied them from this same laptop the previous time he visited home, about six weeks before then. She was afraid … and questioned the boy the more, in order to find out if he knew who exactly was in those pictures. The boy insisted that he didn’t know whose pictures they were, but that he copied them from her laptop. She strictly warned him to delete the pictures and never get close to her laptop; ever again. (Now, that was a big mistake ... she just gave him a clue)

The young man was surprised and followed her to her room; he stood beside his mum as she sat on the bed obviously disturbed. He asked, “But mummy why? Why do you have those pictures in your laptop?” My friend said she looked up at her son and told him that she had lent the laptop to her colleague who must be responsible for those pictures, and that she was sorry. The young boy began to cry; he obviously must have derailed a bit by looking at these pictures for many weeks. His mother threw her arm round his neck and cried with him. He walked away slowly obviously taking his mother’s explanation with a pinch of salt. He entered his room and locked the door before my friend could reach the door handle.

Like most laptop and internet users, my friend was ignorant, careless, desperate, distracted and insufficiently informed. Whatever harm done on her son these past six weeks was primarily contributed by her; no one else. No matter how horny one must be (an obvious fact, no doubt), the possible consequences of Cybersex must not be overlooked. What if my friend’s son shared his pen-drive with a friend who copied the pictures and kept sharing the pictures till it became household porn? … She believed that the boy knew that those were her nude pictures; she could not figure out what the boy was thinking and how she would face him again. She wept and blamed herself …

The more she tried to control herself, the more she cried. That morning, my friend bared her mind to me and we talked it over and conquered her predicament like great friends.

See Finish!

See Finish!!! … The day I heard this term, I was greatly amused; in fact, the most hilarious joke I have heard recently and I kept laughing after many days. Kola, my male friend shared this with me and made much effort to describe what that term means, in the Naija context, in the most thrilling and entertaining manner. Kola is good at descriptive patterns and I always long to share ideas with him; there is always something new to learn from him. He has shared a catalog of male classified and I must say, they are quite informative. Hahaha … See Finish!!! One expression that I won’t forget in a hurry.

'See Finish' is a Naija term that generally refers to a situation where the enlightened Omo Naija seeks to ‘dump’ the enlightened babe because he has ‘seen it all’, so to say. This is an all-encompassing term that generally describes a situation where the guy is tired of the chick, in lay terms and decides to get rid of her for little or no reason. Meanwhile, the term is mostly used by the males in Naija – to describe the gallant male enactment. In a typical ‘See Finish’ situation, the guy sees a hackneyed lady who has displayed all nudity; expended her finances, ideas, passion and affection on the guy; while he simply sticks to affectation and lust. Now, the fact of the ‘See Finish’ situation is this: there is nothing new about the lady anymore, and there is nothing new to look forward to too.

I guess this explains one logical reason why most Naija ladies claim to be ‘born again’. Hahaha … funny, isn’t it? I’ll tell ya. When she comes up with this gimmick of being ‘born again’, sex is ruled out of the relationship and that way, she does not lose much should the relationship become sour. Let me remind you that ‘See Finish’ is a derogatory term that no cute lady would want to be associated with; yet the cute babes are mostly the victims of this life situation. It is a term that the guys hardly use but having a close male friend or brother, it is shared humorously and the wonder-term is expounded. As daunting as this term truly is, it has become the fate of many young women recently and the outcome of this realization? More and more ladies are trapped in their history and curled up literally in their shells. As the saying goes, the next person always bears the brunt. More women become less devoted and indifferent to relationships especially where the focus is mostly on sex and sexual activities. These relationships are the ‘See Finish’- prone types that usually amount to nothing but emotional and sexual exploitation of decent women. In such ‘See Finish’- prone relationships, the Omo Naija is more interested in sexual exploitation (and also, material exploitation where possible). But by what I am meant to understand, it’s got more to do with sexual exploitation than anything else.

In a typical ‘See Finish’- prone relationship, the Omo Naija hardly makes any sacrifices because he’s got a plan, and he mustn’t lose anything. He only rings the Naija babe when he needs sex; run errands or is in some sort of quandary. His conversations are centered on this – never on her interests, situations, health, career, family, challenges or anything that pertains to her directly. The Omo Naija is not proud of his relationship with Naija babe and makes it strictly private - and will never make any commitment, no matter how minor. He works with time; and draws up the curtain as soon as his enactment is done. The Naija babe is hopeful; putting in her best and generally being ‘Nice’ just hoping that things will work out for good.

Another ‘See Finish’-prone relationship dramatizes the Omo Naija suddenly discarding his principles while still living in them; and at the same time, coming up with conflicting theories to ensure that the Naija babe is packed up in one corner like used rug. A public guy suddenly becomes private, while still leading public life. And one wonders how come the change happened as soon as this particular Naija babe is on board. He hates to hang out all of a sudden as soon as the new Naija babe gets into his life. His hobbies suddenly become burdens; and his passions begin to haunt his life. The life that he still lives are theoretically disjointed to ensure that the Naija babe becomes a misfit, who must not expect much.

My observation though: In the Gold Coast, the women are luckier in love relationships. The enlightened men are more decent, gentle and devoted to their women; even when the women are uncooperative or seem disinterested. A typical Gold Coast couple usually courts for five years or more - for as long as it takes and the ‘See Finish’ syndrome is not rampant. The guys are more compassionate and kind: they have a way of looking at the other side of the coin. Empathy is usually the watchword; and having discussed with many of them, it is simple. One of them had this to say, ‘Many of us come from troubled homes where our fathers neglected our mothers and we just didn’t like the sight. Why would a reasonable person do exactly what he abhorred? Eeiii!!, it’s not fair koraaa’ Many of them adore their ladies and if you ask me, the guys in the Gold Coast are more interested in seeing their relationships work out than their babes are.

The term, ‘See Finish’ has come to stay in the Nigerian milieu because there are more adventurous men than the devoted ones who go into relationships as a means to free sex with little or no possibility of infection. The Naija babes already have a good grip of this syndrome and are built to handle them adequately no matter what – these constitute the fun of life; the ingredient that replaces the monotony of life’s occurrences.

I Make Another Friend In The Gold Coast ...

Assisting my friend in moving his household stuff back to Nigeria was not fun at all. He was relocating to Naija and being a guy, he got the affair more complicated than it was meant to be. For many reasons, his initial arrangement of moving the stuff failed and it laid at my feet to make fresh transportation arrangement and ensure that the stuff arrive Lagos timely and in good condition too.

Sunday

Late on Sunday night, he rang me to ask if I had a spare room where he could keep his stuff and move them at a later period. I guess he was really pissed off with the failure of the first arrangement. I quickly sensed the feeling, and like Edward W. Howe said, “When a friend is in trouble, don't annoy him by asking if there is anything you can do. Think up something appropriate and do it”, I opted to assist him in making another arrangement in same new week. That I felt would ease the tension and frustration that gripped him as he made that call that night. Well, I suggested that we both drove down to a transport company and get a quick and cheap deal. We both drove all the way down to Accra that Sunday night, and getting to the transport company station, there was nobody to talk to; nobody to provide valuable information which was all we needed that night in order to strategize. We were asked to visit the station the next day at midday, and my friend was to resume duty the next morning in Nigeria. Oh well, it was obvious that the repeated trip to the station would be made by my noble self; the good Nigerian (not the good Samaritan this time … hahaha!).

Monday

Hmmm … I never do this kain affamaco work before oh. Hehe! I fidgeted and wished a miracle would happen and magically move those things down to Lagos without any involvement by me. I foresaw a very busy and laborious week ahead. I was scared to the bones … I don’t do well with bodily stress, I must say. But I got to help a friend: ‘A Friend in need is a Friend in deed’; a very old saying. At noontime on Monday, I drove down to the bus station at Accra to make the required inquiries. I decided to visit other bus stations also. I almost passed out when I was given quotes by some of the transport companies, and at the last place, I quickly decided to arrange to move the stuff to any of my friend who had a spare room. As far as I was concerned, it was folly spending such money to move used items. Fortunately as the conclusion of this experience will confirm soon; but unfortunately, because it cost much, I found my way back to the arms of the transport company whose initial arrangement with my colleague failed. As soon as I gave the list of the items to the Manager, he sniffed and looking away, asked me to pay an outrageous amount. I sensed what had happened but I chose to act in ignorance. I asked for a discount which he turned down even before the words came from my mouth. I smiled … 

The Manager looked away and I kept smiling. After a while, he said, “Bia Madam, Amam onyenwe these items. Anyi agala n’ulo ya, anyi ji moto anyi gaa ibute ivu ya, gbafuchaa fuel, omeghere anyi uzo k'anyi puo – in short, akpasunam iwe now with this list o. Ego m gwara gi bu the last. Oburu na igaghi akwu ya, biko enwere m ebe m na-aga kita di nkpa ” - which meant, "Come Madam, I know the person that owns these items. We went to his house to pick these items with our bus, wasted our fuel and he showed us the way out. In short - don't get me upset with this list o. The amount that I told you is the best that I can do for you. If you will not pay, please, I have an important place to go to now" 

I laughed. I knew he was just being vindictive and he was shocked at my disposition. Well, to cut the long story short, I pleaded and pleaded. Just as the good book confirms, “A soft answer turned away wrath …” the Manager and I came to a compromise – he gave me the discount. But with many conditions which included that I would move the items down to their station in Accra from Tema … Quite inconveniencing but doable.

Tuesday

I woke up feeling nervous and sick … I was frightened by the impending stress of moving the stuff from the house to the bus station and down to my house again. I came to the office as usual that morning and worked till about 12 noon. I left the office and drove to the truck station to arrange for a truck before proceeding to my house for change of clothes (on second thought, I decided to go home first and arrange for a truck afterwards, but somehow, I stuck to the first instinct). I approached the first two trucks whose prices were quite high. The third truck had two male youngsters relaxing in the driver and passenger seats, chatting and laughing. I asked for the price to move items and specified the locations involved. They asked me to wait while they called up the driver of the truck. The driver came … a very dark-skinned, tall and muscular guy in his late twenties came. He asked if I was the one who needed to hire his vehicle and we started the bargaining. We came to a compromise and I quickly rushed home to change into loose clothing. When I returned, this good man was still waiting for me and I led the way to my friend’s house. 

I noticed something – people hailed the driver all the way through Ashaiman, Klagon, Sakumono and Community 18 areas, and he either waved, or stopped briefly to exchange pleasantry or just honked. I wondered who he was. Well, he drove with the two young men that I approached the first time. Quickly, they arranged the items carefully and tied them. I noticed that the driver, being young and vibrant was strangely patient and meticulous. And I remembered and asked why everyone was hailing him all the way to my friend’s house. He said because of his nickname – Half Caste!. Wao! I asked what that meant. He said because of his very dark complexion, people ironically call him Half Caste which usually referred to light-skinned people. Hilarious!

Not long, we were at the bus station at Accra, though delayed a bit at a police check-point. Half Caste and his workers quickly ‘off-loaded’ the items and waited for almost an hour as I went through the list with the transport company Manager to confirm that all the items in the list were physically delivered (the Manager was obviously not well educated and took time to identify the item names … so boring, I almost snapped). Half Caste and his workers waited patiently till we were done with the list confirmation and we all drove back to Tema with Half Caste leading the way this time. When we got to a point on the Motorway, we both pulled up and I paid Half Caste the agreed amount (I was surprised that he did not ask for extra for the time wasted as is the custom of most drivers in the Gold Coast) and he moved the settee set back to my house (as the intended buyers failed to show up at my friend's house to move the settee set as we agreed), while I went back to work. Half Caste called me thirty minutes later to inform me that he had delivered the settee set to my house-keeper at home. I was grateful to him and I found it strange that he did this at no extra charge at all (now, moving the settee to my house was not part of our initial arrangement as the intended buyers were to move it straight from my friend's house).

Wednesday

Half Caste called me at noon to say Hi – I appreciated his call. And just that evening, my neighbor needed a vehicle to move stuff for her and Half Caste was handy. He arrived at my neighbor’s house sharply and moved the items to the specified destination. He refused to give a quote and asked my neighbor to pay him whatever amount that she had. She gave him a ridiculous amount (so my neighbor described the fare she paid to Half Caste). My friend says of him, “Half Caste didn’t look at the money that I placed in his palm. He just put it in his pocket and drove off with a big smile and honked in appreciation” For the first time, I saw a young bus driver of his energy in the Gold Coast behaving in such cute manner.

Thursday

I called Half Caste to thank him for assisting my neighbor. He laughed … Then, I knew that Half Caste would remain my friend for a long time.

Independence Fever!

On Saturday, October 1^st, I just got terribly home-sick: there is no place like home, so the saying goes. For the first time in many weeks, I felt like hitting the Murtala Mohammed runway. I wanted to be part of the obvious celebration that was in the air even from the beginning of the last week of September. Nigerians looked forward to this year’s independence celebration once more, as they always did in the previous years (was there a reason for that is the story for another day). Howbeit, all my friends were expectant – some planned to travel and spend the day with their families and loved ones, some planned picnics with friends and loved ones, while others planned to hang out with friends especially my male buddies.

Hmmm … me nko? Wetin I go do on that day sef? Many of my Nigerian folks in the Gold Coast were out of the country on official assignment and hanging out with my friend, Nana and another of her friend (kai, I don even forget her name sef) would not be a bad idea. The hanging out no be to celebrate Nigeria's Independence oh … hia. Nana’s friend is a returnee who wants to catch up with the events that she had missed out during her absence from her motherland and I accepted to be part of that catching-up affair, at least make I no dey house dey reminisce over nothingness. Check am now, except for my relatives in the house who are obviously unavailable due to their academic and religious inclinations, the best I could do would have been to bury my head in one of my write-ups, while my Nigerian buddies were busy catching fun for Naija.

I feel am oh, I no go lie you. So when I accepted to hang out with Nana and her friend, I was hoping to forget the loneliness that would grip me, at least for some hours and get the day rolling by in full speed.

Ok! The arrangement was that this chick (Nana, I mean) would call me up on Saturday morning, and we would all meet up at a particular point and then start our waka. So far, we had two basic things in mind:  a wedding and a book launch (by my facebook friend). Also, we promised to have mutual talks on business prospects that we find profitable. I woke up with this bad abdominal cramp (Now, not what you are thinking, see una wakajugbe head …) Na wa oh, I waited for my friend’s call to no avail, so I called her up. She hadn’t heard from her friend either; and actually sounded impatient and unsure. At once, I perceived that it was not a good day to go out – not with the uncertainty in the air and an ailing body, but I seriously longed to attend the book launch, I promised my facebook friend that I would make it.

I was able to steal a nap and waking up an hour later threw me into the greatest fever that I have never felt before in many years … Independence Fever, I call it. First, I felt this depression that made me home-sick as though I hadn’t been in Nigeria in ten years. I suddenly began to imagine my favorite lagos scenes, scenes in my village … I felt a strong urge to dash down to Lagos at least.

When the reverie was gone, I realized how impossible it was for me to make that trip: I didn’t plan to travel and since my family members are mostly outside Lagos, the trip would not be as exciting as it should be. The joy usually was to hang out with my friends and return to my family; so the combo is incomplete. I moaned in my spirit … I shivered as I lay quietly on my bed; locked up in my room the whole day.  I began to playback the conversation I had with some of my friends the previous day – the picnics, the trips, the fun-catching events etc, I felt miserable. I took some novels to read but I just could not concentrate. Nigeria on my mind …

Finally, I ate my favorite meal at noon and slept till late in the evening. I woke up refreshed and satisfied – I imagined that my friends in Naija go don shack drink finish; the ones wey travel go don reach house and the ones wey go picnic, go dey on their way home. Well, the independence day was over and so did the fever also. Nana never called back; guess her friend did not call her either. I strolled to the living room and a conversation began, “Nigeria is 51 today: Is there really anything to show for it?”