tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86999442396356942112024-03-05T10:54:45.690-08:00Chronicles of Ajala who travelled the WorldThe taste of freedom to those who have had to fight for it is different as opposed to those who were born into it. Thank God I was born a free soul, not having to know the trauma of confinement and subjugation.Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.comBlogger86125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-64454872347810646562014-04-01T15:31:00.002-07:002014-04-01T15:32:28.832-07:00The Blogosphere as I used to know<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I first started blogging in 2006. That seems like a very
long time ago now. My first blog was on what used to be known as msn spaces and
as I discovered BlogSpot, I moved my blog here.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Looking back at those early days, I started my blog because I’m
one of those people who just loves to talk! Matter of fact, I love talking so
much that I often have to restrain myself from talking<o:p></o:p></div>
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Back in those early days, the blogosphere was a different
place. I made friends with other bloggers from across the globe. I followed
their posts religiously. Some really good bloggers came and went and I
eventually ended up meeting up with one or two bloggers in London, Dubai and
Nigeria. The likes of 30+, pink gloves and a whole host of others!</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Blogging has really moved on or perhaps I’m the one who
has not managed to stay in tune with the ever changing blogosphere<o:p></o:p></div>
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Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-24410656785221296712013-12-30T17:53:00.003-08:002013-12-30T17:53:53.932-08:00Ajebutter wannabe, Lagos Living<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I've been in Lagos now for over a week. The plan was to spend the holidays with family and friends. This holiday has quickly morphed into me performing all manner of errands - house ghel type of work.</div>
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My sister has sold her car which I usually cruise around with. This means all these errands are being done by taxis - Igbese thingz if you know how much the red cab will cost you including overpriced pangolo cabs that are like living skeletons. </div>
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Having reviewed my taxi spendings and almost having a fit, I decided to vex and carry go with a danfo bus - Yes, why not! I ended up paying 100 Naira for a journey that would have cost me 2000 Naira with a regular taxi. I even enjoyed free A/C on third mainland bridge along with all other passengers - Shior. No ajebutter when your ATM card refuse to work in Lagos. This led me to visit my bank at Marina branch only to find that their system was down. After waiting forever and a hot minute, they decided to keep the forms, give me some money and let me go. I tire for Naija banks</div>
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All in all, today has been great, long, tiring and filled with me trawling through Lagos on public transport. It was quite an interesting experience</div>
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Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-26698599139565287342013-02-06T01:41:00.000-08:002013-02-06T01:41:56.844-08:00My Amazing Story of God's Healing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Written on Wednesday 5<sup>th</sup> February 2013</div>
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In the September of 2012 while canoeing on the River Wye with
some of my friends, I was involved in a minor accident whereby the canoe I was
in capsized (<a href="http://adisao.blogspot.co.uk/2012/09/ajala-goes-canoeing.html">click for story</a>). I was fasting during this period and coincidentally, this was the
last day of my fast. Of all 3 of us involved, I was the only person who
sustained an injury – a dislocated left shoulder. I thank God for his grace that things were not
worse. The paramedics came out and
examined my arm, I hadn’t sustained any broken bones to God’s glory but I had
to immobilize my hand for a while. As
the healing process began, things just didn’t feel quite right with my hand, I would
hear clicks while swimming or exerting myself but I would always ignore these
until one eventful morning on 11<sup>th</sup> January 2013 (this was just 5
days before my birthday) It was one of those mornings when the bin men were
picking up the bins on a different day to the usual. I rushed out of bed in a
sleepy haze to hurriedly get my bin out after 2 weeks of stockpiling waste. In
my hurriedness, I missed a step and just as I was about the steady myself with
my left hand, I twisted my shoulder all over again. The pain was sharp and it
was like a frozen towel hit me in the face. I have been in so much pain in my
left hand since then. Things had gotten to the point where I wake up almost
every morning with my pinky and ring fingers completely numb. I also get
terrible pains in my wrist and shoulder blades. </div>
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Where is all this going you may ask? Well, a little more
patience my friends. On Tuesday 5<sup>th</sup> February 2013 I attended my 4<sup>th</sup>
Alpha course session titled “Why and How Should I pray” this is one of the
things I struggle with in my Christian life. Trying to get it right has always
been an obsession as well as knowing truly when God is speaking to me. The
session touched a chord with me and during the discussion sessions, the
presenter talked about the first prayer he prayed and God answered. He asked
for a bible and a few minutes later, his father called him over and gave him a
bible. For me, this was a reminder of
God’s promise to his children “Ask and it shall be given” </div>
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At the end of the session as always, Pastor asked if anyone
wanted special prayers for anything. I was tempted to be quiet and have the
session end so we could all go home but something within me spoke out and I
made a special request for God to heal my left shoulder. This was not the first time I had prayed for
healing in my left shoulder, but this time, it was different. I had made a conscious
decision prior to keep a prayer journal so I could list my prayers and then
check the answered ones so I can have a constant reminder of all that God has
done for me. As pastor’s wife touched my
left shoulder to pray for me, I just felt this really cool sensation in the
inside of my arm right from my neck to my finger tips. I knew in my heart that
something amazing was happening and I just tuned myself in to that
sensation. Driving home that night, my
left arm felt different. I went to sleep
with a feeling that my left arm was healed but still at the back of my mind, I
knew I had to wake up the following morning to see if I would have numb
fingers. To God’s glory I work up and my left arm felt as normal as my right
arm. </div>
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People, God healed my left arm! As I type this up on
Wednesday 6<sup>th</sup> February, I have joy in my heart and I am grateful for
God’s glory. I know in my heart that God is true, loving and kind and all we
need to do is believe in him and he will answer all the needs of our hearts. I would
like to encourage you all to not be afraid to ask God. I truly believe that my
story this morning would have been different if I hadn’t taken that step of
faith and placed my troubled limb in God’s hands. </div>
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Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com0Cheltenham, Gloucestershire, UK51.8898602 -2.082473700000036851.8114607 -2.2438352000000368 51.968259700000004 -1.9211122000000369tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-72597493792133756732012-10-10T00:50:00.001-07:002012-10-10T00:50:58.253-07:00ALUU4, MOBI45, Boko Haram, corruption in Nigeria and its effects on my generation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">From a very young age, I always
sensed that human life in Nigeria had very little value.</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">I am not very good with memory but I do have
some surprising gruesome memories of horrifying events.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">That first time, I must have been about
6 years old. I was home when I heard shouts of “thief” “thief” in the
neighborhood. I rushed to the upper balcony of my home to find a naked young
man running for his life. In hot pursuit were about two men. One threw a huge
chunk of metal at the running man and immediately, a huge gash of flesh was
taken off the running man’s leg. He stood no chance as he fell to the ground.
My mother shouted for me to get back into the house. I do not know what
happened to that young man. Most likely, he was taken to the local police
station. I hope<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">The second time, I was about the
age of 10. It was between the road passing through FESTAC and the Alajika area
of Lagos. I had just gotten off a bus with our house help. I had been
complaining about being pressed for the toilet when the house help told me to
go into a nearby bush to “ease” myself. As I took a few cautious steps into the
bush, right before my eyes only just a few meters from the main road was a
corpse with a tyre around its neck. I was horrified. I started shaking and ran
back to the road. I never till this day spoke about what I saw in that bush. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">The third horrifying experience I
had was only just a few years ago, perhaps 5 years maybe? I had returned to
Nigeria on holiday after a number of years living in the UK. As I was driving around with my companion on
some road in Lagos, not too far from Ikeja, I was shocked and horrified to see
a corpse just lying there on the roadside. I was shocked beyond words. This was
right there in broad daylight on a very busy road in Lagos and the corpse was
just sitting there. The following day we drove past the same spot and guess
what? That corpse was still right there by the road side. My companion, a
resident of Lagos was not so shocked. She told me about other corpses she had
seen sitting on the roadside in lagos for days before being removed. I remember
being surprised at her tone but I accepted this as it was Nigeria after all?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Finally, there was Llyod, Ugonna,
Tekena and Chidiaka. These four boys were beaten mercilessly and then set
ablaze while still alive. I did not see the video, I don’t think I could bring
myself to see it but I saw some photos. In one of them, a young boy clearly
distressed and bloodied from beatings and sitting in the midst of motionless
bodies of his friends, a crowd was gathered around and of course, there was the
camera taking the time to record these dastardly acts of murder in broad day
light. I still feel the bile turning in my stomach<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA6C3NiEqWPXiSIMhzzT7qJkUJr-RqfWO2AQ_U1CLy-alMkILllLxTta5EIK1dgboT8Qg_tKUlxTMOr0LRMk7MJzJXR1cMf6suhaSWe10zcWEtr6az0_xMi0vyBae6aGN8dRCTRGUDhJQ/s1600/why.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA6C3NiEqWPXiSIMhzzT7qJkUJr-RqfWO2AQ_U1CLy-alMkILllLxTta5EIK1dgboT8Qg_tKUlxTMOr0LRMk7MJzJXR1cMf6suhaSWe10zcWEtr6az0_xMi0vyBae6aGN8dRCTRGUDhJQ/s320/why.jpg" width="241" /></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">I am only 27 years old and in that
time I have seen gradually how the humanity of Nigerians has degraded. Our
police and army carry out indiscriminate killings no questions asked, no
actions taken. Our leaders watch us suffer indiscriminately, no questions
asked, no actions taken. Over the years, we have been gradually robbed of our
humanity through poverty, strife and the daily quest for survival. We do not even see suffering anymore.
Suffering has become the norm and due to the inadequacy of our government and
security forces, vigilante groups have thrived. The rule of law is nonexistent
and all of these have lead to the murder of innocents <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"> Corrupt leadership, compromised security,
extreme poverty, struggle for survival, failed healthcare system, failed
educational system, high rates of illiteracy and a desensitized people all lead
to the deaths of the ALUU4, the MOBI45, that innocent man shot by police
officers, those innocent civilians shot by the army, those innocent Christians killed
in the north, those innocent Muslims killed in the South. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8C7g4z4sgVHfRhqj8aOduD9DwIwCbmGSufX33EjOyoVuFKqNIUcxecZVg3NNvf19GeYIJHF0-vyUDo0skbeZA0k5-i66xOK8h1AAG-8ZJdVOPlMqEJMkNsjM-iKDtnxvw1Rvn2lqecdM/s1600/PEACE-600x336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8C7g4z4sgVHfRhqj8aOduD9DwIwCbmGSufX33EjOyoVuFKqNIUcxecZVg3NNvf19GeYIJHF0-vyUDo0skbeZA0k5-i66xOK8h1AAG-8ZJdVOPlMqEJMkNsjM-iKDtnxvw1Rvn2lqecdM/s320/PEACE-600x336.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Finally, I’ll leave you with a
story I read about only just a few weeks ago. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">A man returning from work had just
gotten off a bus along a major highway in Lagos when he heard a number of
people on his side of the road pointing and shouting (no doubt some would have
had their phone cameras on standby). On looking at the direction of the
commotion, he saw the body of a young woman in the middle of the road. She had
just been hit by a car. He rushed over to move her body away from the path of
oncoming vehicles. She was still alive but gasping for breath. I think by now,
another man had come over to assist. No cars stopped to assist them but
“Luckily” there was a parked mobile police car just a few meters away so, both
men hurried over with the body of the young lady and asked the policemen for
assistance. The response of the police
office was shocking. He responded that he would not take the woman to the
hospital in his car; after all, the woman was responsible for her own
misfortune because there was a pedestrian crossing bridge just further down the
road. She didn’t use it! The police man did however assist them with getting a
taxi. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Upon getting to the hospital and in
the midst of the hospital staff requesting down payment and all sorts, the
young woman died.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">Such stories and even more
horrifying ones happen every hour, minute and every second in Nigeria. I do not
have hope in this government as they are only interested in lining their own
pockets at the peril of innocent lives. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;">When will the blood of the innocents
stop spilling across the country and when will Nigerians start to feel human
again?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-88273254189292785962012-09-19T11:33:00.002-07:002012-09-19T12:59:49.772-07:00Kate Middleton Topless - Who Cares??<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: orange;">I am a big fan of Kate Middleton. I like the girl very much. In fact, I like her oracle more. Her oracle snagged Kate a real life prince. You gotta admire good work and give credit where it is due.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1BcCLwfkGAfOWeRp_YBhvlErZXkCMTGoj8GoL-OLz0DVm4Vk25_WDQIdT30ONSChNsBZlHaqtHmjzgZCSxkVrZFbWFhp5RbIjw6fdYqXntY2r8zIrvtbOwnHspX7CLAYQMv1uLN2LfWs/s1600/kate_will.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: orange;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1BcCLwfkGAfOWeRp_YBhvlErZXkCMTGoj8GoL-OLz0DVm4Vk25_WDQIdT30ONSChNsBZlHaqtHmjzgZCSxkVrZFbWFhp5RbIjw6fdYqXntY2r8zIrvtbOwnHspX7CLAYQMv1uLN2LfWs/s320/kate_will.jpg" width="220" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: orange;"> Overall, I am sure she is a very nice girl married to what at the time was the most eligible young man in the world. Our dear William may not be the best looking but when you are loaded, it is amazing how money can turn King Kong into prince charming. </span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">Now, my gripe at the minute is the shamelessness with which newspapers the world over are displaying by posting half naked pictures of Kate Middleton. To make matters worse, these pictures were obtained by a peeping Tom who took the photos with telephoto long range lenses while the Duchess was on a private property in France.</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">I have seen these photos and being an African woman, I dont find them remarkable at all. I just want to stuff food into the girl so that she can add more flesh to places where it will really matter. All I saw was a very skinny girl indulging in top less sun bathing which I have never understood for the life of me. I mean, who cares if your boobs are tanned or not? its not like you are walking the streets with your boobs exposed for all to admire.. presence of boobs or not.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Sw8DskABf4mhR6UXhEQeEHMYWDyqUOk5xbt8Enwd-LvlH-fwMpDERAGK0pIMMt4T-uUZYcUtR3shAtRHJNULwyejpesAzNXEeWxBJaONbs1UwAPzRtbRx4auWbj8y_EdO0CJMvkP2ks/s1600/kate-middleton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: orange;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Sw8DskABf4mhR6UXhEQeEHMYWDyqUOk5xbt8Enwd-LvlH-fwMpDERAGK0pIMMt4T-uUZYcUtR3shAtRHJNULwyejpesAzNXEeWxBJaONbs1UwAPzRtbRx4auWbj8y_EdO0CJMvkP2ks/s320/kate-middleton.jpg" width="210" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">What is most annoying now is that Kate Middleton and her half naked photos are allover the news, cant watch CNN without hearing about them, cant watch BBC news or even listen to BBC radio without hearing about Kate's boobs. </span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">Dear God, please help the world's media move on from Kate Middleton's (lack of) boobs</span></div>
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Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-15599669157223823202012-09-18T01:38:00.002-07:002012-09-18T01:54:52.415-07:00Ajala goes Canoeing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: orange;">Come and help me sing hallelujah!!</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">This is proper thanksgiving mate and add praise and worship
to that. Yours truly (which is me in this case) was involved in a canoe
capsize.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM6gM4rTcuDVorng9YfNiLGZSErJM-5cY3VEk-L4uxMhkBPIX7xGEsqlT65PLxH6bjxU2EZ4OM5Sg6kcTDFk3WC7Pq77bWqh6Wj4z17Dlo1DCrycfalx6__Ke4JgVYvqPffcNUlPzeQw8/s1600/IMG_0217.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: orange;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM6gM4rTcuDVorng9YfNiLGZSErJM-5cY3VEk-L4uxMhkBPIX7xGEsqlT65PLxH6bjxU2EZ4OM5Sg6kcTDFk3WC7Pq77bWqh6Wj4z17Dlo1DCrycfalx6__Ke4JgVYvqPffcNUlPzeQw8/s320/IMG_0217.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">Canoe-cap-kini I hear you say. Well, you heard it right. A
canoe capsize.</span></div>
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<span style="color: orange;">A few of my workmates and I (scratch that, one babe like
that for work) organized a canoe trip on the River Wye (one very dirty river
like that in Gloucestershire). This was supposed to be an adventure with two
persons in each canoe paddling down a 6 mile stretch of the River Wye. I was
all for it. I am usually a very adventurous person and I do know how to swim
reasonably. So, this was gonna be a piece of cake</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ_1H-0q2hoBdLAd9AQNuBSCYGHJqut26Y3qUsRE475XnMNuVdF4ueLmPYTOJAroFSMo8YH7CAZZkSWY5KPwDaDNJlbPmU_xKpIBxcwMp5nSe1bBpvH3fIs-IbTR9Csc-Bu4NQUyNUpMc/s1600/557486_436389703071334_142991963_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: orange;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ_1H-0q2hoBdLAd9AQNuBSCYGHJqut26Y3qUsRE475XnMNuVdF4ueLmPYTOJAroFSMo8YH7CAZZkSWY5KPwDaDNJlbPmU_xKpIBxcwMp5nSe1bBpvH3fIs-IbTR9Csc-Bu4NQUyNUpMc/s320/557486_436389703071334_142991963_n.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: orange;">The whole trip was marked for misadventure the minute I was
paired. I just knew that my paddling partner was going to get me into trouble.
Throughout the whole trip, our canoe kept zigzagging down the river. The tour
guide said I was paddling too hard while my partner was not paddling strong enough
(dilemma!) How the heck is that my fault. All the eba I ate in Nigeria buffed
me up</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: orange;">The trip went generally well and it was a lovely day to be
out on the River. But just as we were rounding a bend in the river, our canoe
was bumped by another canoe from behind onto a massive bush right in the middle
of the river and we pushed onto the bushes and stuck right on top (imagine a
boat running aground). At this point with the strong currents pushing us
against the river, we could not free our boat. That was when the tour guide
(aka Voltron Defender of the Universe) decided to come and free us. As we were being rescued, the canoe overturned.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYWynifj_Se2VPAr8WkgR4vi6BFDHbUGGAfoSiZIuLfjINoHjXZ1tI1rAcrNcqGVnTdZMjPBIIyHFKynTJDlrppV90y2VKqKmBFzBw-thyphenhyphenGCpI5FWtjPa4hq6uHi5QeL0OqEvL2g7Qhh0/s1600/564392_10151124557104361_79640823_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: orange;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYWynifj_Se2VPAr8WkgR4vi6BFDHbUGGAfoSiZIuLfjINoHjXZ1tI1rAcrNcqGVnTdZMjPBIIyHFKynTJDlrppV90y2VKqKmBFzBw-thyphenhyphenGCpI5FWtjPa4hq6uHi5QeL0OqEvL2g7Qhh0/s320/564392_10151124557104361_79640823_n.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: orange;"> My life did flash
before my eyes as the brown, dirty, cold water of the River Wye slapped me
squarely in the face. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: orange;">My first thought was “OMG! I’m drowning!” I heard the tour
guide yelling at me to put my feet on the ground and that was when I realized that
the river was quite shallow, so I did as instructed. By this time, our Voltron
had taken hold of the canoe and brought it back and gave me a firm instruction
to jump in. I could tell he was pissed off. He had lost some of his kit in the
river and I guess for the 19 pounds per person for the trip, we were not worth
the trouble. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: orange;">It wasn’t until I tried to start padding back (all drenched
in murky waters) did I realize I could not make use of my left hand. As I
lifted the paddle, I experienced such intense pain that I started to shiver. So
here we were, sitting in the middle of this bloody river and I could not paddle.
Lucky for us, other members of our group who could not find us returned to the
scene of the incident and towed our boat to the end point. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: orange;">By this time, I was shivering, in intense pain and had tears
streaming down my face (and I wasn’t even crying!) I could not move my left
shoulder and at this point, I could tell everyone was worried. I guess I was in
shock by now</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc4OKfp8OxE11EI5WblsXXZ9jtcA0Wq3bmpTAQ_UJzEvNRN8sQO0w-WxKmXb612Qm-6mbqHhRiaO6b7PvQkEGMlBXcaru6qPQV_AvhuIpOUDYX6b_pgEnq9dHMKZ6cT_Qf4GexvZJB8Qg/s1600/251449_436390763071228_1694999502_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: orange;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc4OKfp8OxE11EI5WblsXXZ9jtcA0Wq3bmpTAQ_UJzEvNRN8sQO0w-WxKmXb612Qm-6mbqHhRiaO6b7PvQkEGMlBXcaru6qPQV_AvhuIpOUDYX6b_pgEnq9dHMKZ6cT_Qf4GexvZJB8Qg/s320/251449_436390763071228_1694999502_n.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: orange;">At this point someone called an ambulance. What we got were
two ambulances, two fire engines and a police car. Boy did I fell very special!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: orange;"> Ehhh.. I was well impressed.
I was so thankful that I didn’t fall into Ogunpa River in Nigeria. Not even
nearby fishermen will come for me!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: orange;">After a few blasts of what we call “Air and Gas” – some
really good gaseous pain killer which makes you feel no pain.. I was as high as
a kite (laughing and giggling). The
medics determined that I hadn’t broken anything but had dislocated my shoulder.
This was popped back in and I was put in a sling and off to the A&E for
X-Rays. No broken bones. But I tell you, the pain was incomprehensible</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: orange;">In the midst of all the humor, pain and disorientation, I was
still able to appreciate that this could have been worse. People have been
known to drown in waters that people consider Mundane and so for walking away
with a dislocated shoulder and a sling I am extremely grateful</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: orange;">The shoulder still hurts a bit but with gentle Physio
excersies, I am getting berra.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: orange;">Lots of love</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: orange;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: orange;">PS: Sorry I had to "purple" out peoples faces here</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: orange;">Tolantino. </span></div>
</div>
Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-15080695643358200892012-09-02T16:17:00.001-07:002012-09-02T16:22:56.406-07:00The Good That Humans Do<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);"></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">Growing up, I've been fortunate to witness both my parents offer help and assistance to a number of people ranging from family to friends and in some cases strangers. Also, I have been fortunate enough to grow up within a stable family environment with a lot of discipline. This has taught me to be disciplined and very much aware of my actions and the greater impacts. I have learnt that my actions are more than me.</span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">
</span>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);"><br /></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
We as humans leave a legacy wherever we go and in whatever we do. This is why I try to do good. I often do this not because I want to be thanked or praised. I actually detest praises. I am often embarrassed by it. If I were on the receiving end of a god deed, it would mean much more to me if I knew the person did not have to be good to me.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
This is why it hurts when people try to take advantage of good doers. I recently had a very nasty experience with a person whom I thought was a friend. You know the type of experience where you feel violated as a human being. Yea, that kind of nasty experience. I really thought at that moment that this was it! I was totally done with people, their problem will no longer be mine and to each his/her own.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
For the first couple of days, it did hurt, true. But after this, my experience started to be a distant dull memory. I started to not think about the experience as much and then, the most amazing thing started to happen...I was grateful for all of the experience. Believe it or not, I was grateful that I went through this experience and I learnt a lot about myself as a person and what we as humans should expect as a minimum from other humans - Nothing. The best thing is to expect little from other humans because that way, you can rarely be disappointed. If they then go on to do great things, you'll be pleasantly surprised!<br />
<br />
Finally, I have not lost my sense of humanity. I recently had the chance to assist a person to give them a better experience and I rose up to this challenge. I am happy that this one nasty experience did not subconsciously have a negative impact on my outlook in life.. When a challenge came up, I rose up to it and I overcame!<br />
<br />
I hope someone can learn something good from this experience.<br />
<br />
Stay bless y'all<br />
<br />
Tolantino</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
One thing I'm most grateful for is that this experience has not changed my approach to life and my general philosophy </div>
</span></div>
Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-24581739826022177532012-03-10T03:35:00.001-08:002012-09-18T01:55:24.303-07:00Interview with a Mugu in Paris<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<span style="color: #ff9900;"><b>Every now and then, you see a media story about a gullible white woman or man who falls for one of these Nigerian scam emails. You wonder how people can be so stupid to fall for the emails. What you don't expect to happen to you is meet a live Mugu at Paris Charles De Gaulle on her way to Lagos to wed her scammer. My people, that was when I realised that there are PEOPLE in this world.</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff9900;"><b>While sitting on an airfrance flight which had been delayed by close to 6 hrs (story for another day), I found myself talking to the oyinbo lady sitting in front of me.</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff9900;"><b>Me: Hello, where are you heading to ( plane stops at Lagos and heads to port Harcourt.</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff9900;"><b>Oyinbo: I'm going to Lagos to get married to my fiance</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff9900;"><b>At this point, I'm still thinking okay, nothing unusual, internet love dey happen in this our 21st century. I asked a few more questions about America where she's from before I asked the one that my gbeborun mind has been gagging to ask....</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff9900;"><b>Me: So how did you meet you fiance?</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff9900;"><b>(people, please hold on to your seat belts oh)</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff9900;"><b>Oyinbo: well, you see.....I won the lottery. I won $800,000 and my fiance was the one who contacted me about the money. He's been helping me over the past year to get my money out of Nigeria and we fell in love. So, I'm going to Nigeria to get my money and get married</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff9900;"><b>Jesus wept! And I was instantly weak. Oyinbo mugu had paid $8000 already and she hasn't seen one cent back. $8000 in processing fees and to open an account where the money would be paid into. She showed me the card which allegedly comes with the account and people, no such bank exists in Nigeria. Even the card looked dodgy. </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff9900;"><b>At this point, I looked at this middle aged excited naive white woman who was already halfway across the world on her way to getting fleeced in unforgiving Lagos. I didn't even know where to start so, I told her about the whole Naija scam scene. How its common knowledge that there is mo money waiting for people who fall into this trap. Oyinbo woman was quite adamant that this was legit. There was nothing I could have said to move this mountain. So, I gave her my number and we also exchanged emails. </b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff9900;"><b>What really tripped me about this story is how strong the woman was in her conviction that she was on her way to claiming $800, 000 even though she didn't play the lottery. In a country where white people are being kidnapped left right and center. With Boko haram also operating with impunity. She jets off to Nigeria still where she plans to marry a man she never met, doesn't know a soul other than the said fiance and claim money she never did a thing to win. The woman has some serious liver if you ask me. I did a silent prayer for her and told her to email me when she's back in the USA.</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ff9900;"><b>Not only has one Naija scammer scored, it looks like green card is also assured. God save my country!</b></span></div>
Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-75694221974111627452012-02-20T01:07:00.000-08:002012-02-20T02:19:48.684-08:00The inner voice that is rarely ever wrong<p class="MsoNormal"><span ><b>I have come to learn that I have this little voice in my head. It is a hard thing to define. I am not talking the schizophrenic type of voices that are talking to you when there is no one else in the room. I am talking about that little voice which is a combination of upbringing, one’s values in life, one’s conscience and experiences. It’s the red light that goes off in your head when your heart is double beating and doing back flips.</b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span ><b>I remember being a young girl growing up in a girl’s only boarding school and living on the ideal romantic notions of Mills and Boon novels. I knew exactly how my romantic dreams would be. One day, my price charming would “find” me and he would sweep me off my feet and then we would live happily ever after. Sounds very romantic shey? Well, one thing mills and boon did not remember to mention is how many frogs and crocodiles I would have to kiss before finding my prince charming. I have certainly met my fair share of frogs, crocs and olocious fellows. With each one of them, I learn a bit more about this road to happily ever after bliss. </b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span ><b>The latest misdirection was a 32 year old weed smoker with quite a colorful history (Mr Long Legz). Mr Long Legz had all my alarm bells going off at first but I did not listen to that tiny voice at the back of my head. Guy was good looking, apparently single but as I came to find out… also emotionally unavailable. He was blowing hot and cold simultaneously like a mobile heating/cooling device. I thought I would watch and observe. A few more weeks of getting to know Mr Long Legz had me seeing all sorts of revelations. It is a good thing not to rush into anything with a guy. If a girl/guy truly likes a guy, it is not difficult to tell because at least both parties will treat themselves with respect and not disrespect the intelligence of the other (I consider things like mind games disrespecting another’s intelligence).</b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span ><b> Ohh.. and another lesson learnt, if you meet a man who smokes, has smoked for a considerable number of years, and he tells you that he is giving up, or about to give up, or tells you he is smoking his last cigarette because you are saying you don’t date guys who smoke. LIE. Trust me, he is smoking those cigarettes where your beady little eyes can’t see him. If a grown ass man did not think he would quit smoking before he met you, what makes you think you are so special that he will give up the tobacco sticks.. just saying</b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span ><b>Always listen to the inner voice... it is rarely wrong. </b></span></p>Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-72453491202000707992011-07-03T17:17:00.001-07:002011-07-03T17:17:07.800-07:00Technology<br><b><font color ="#ff6200">I'm trying my best to not be infuriated by technology. Succumbing to this would mean risking being left behind in this unrelenting race of keeping up with the latest gadgets and apps. For well over a year now, I've been riding the blackberry band wagon. Blackberry was good at first. But the rather frequent crashes were not so hot. Very annoying to say the least. Now, I'm spotting a HTC phone. It's touch screen and all. I remember holding this phone the first day and thinking what the hell am I going to do with it. A few weeks on and things are already looking bright. I will survive with the phone afterall. One cool thing which I have found is the Blogger app.....were! It means I have my blog on mobile. I always seem to have so many thought that fly away before I get the chance to put fingers to keypad. I'll have to see how this one turns out!</font></b><br />Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-32055595418624084572011-06-07T16:35:00.000-07:002011-06-07T17:00:18.765-07:00One woman and her hair journey<div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> 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mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> </div><p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Over the past few years, I have always been at odds with the tub of hair straightening relaxers which we black women so frighteningly turn to on a regular basis. Why is it that we are so convinced of the fact that the natural follicles growing out of our head is not good for us?? At what point in our history did someone make the decision that the black person’s hair is bad??</p><div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">Think about it for a hot second.. The Caucasians, the Asians, all races have features that set them apart. God has created each race with distinct features which are unique to them. Why would God (forget God for a second here).. why would nature even, <span style=""> </span>have caused us to evolve with hair that is not good?? As far as I am concerned, we black women have undergone decades of mis- education,<span style=""> </span>mis-information and ignorance about what is actually good for us. Over the generations, instead of learning how best to grow and nurture our naturally different hair, we have allowed convention to teach us to pour harsh and damaging chemicals into our hair. I cannot begin to recount the number of black women whom I have seen with receding hairline all the way around the hair line (and they are only still in their twenties!). It’s unbelievable. </p><div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span>I am not saying that I have never turned to a tub of relaxer in the past. As a matter of fact, I remember pulling out all the stops to get my first relaxer at the age of 13. I was convinced that my life would be much better only if my hair was bone straight. I would only look beautiful when all my afro curls magically disappeared with the administration of Venus relaxer product. I would be as beautiful as the women on the adverts. Guess what?? Applying relaxers was only the beginning of my confusion. I never really noticed my hair grow. Every time I washed my hair (maybe every 6 weeks.. imagine the stink!) I would lose clumps of hair. There was never any indication that my hair was growing at all. I was convinced that we black people were just cursed with our afro hair. I was convinced of this until a few years ago when I started to find information on the internet. I found a wealth of information on African American women who were starting to discover how to manage and nurture their own natural hair. Now, I am not talking about a bunch of religiously obsessed mixed race women who only want to have natural products on their heads and are blessed with good genes. I am talking about well educated BLACK professionals and youths who wanted to challenge the status quo which dictates that every black woman should have fake hair like Beyonce.</p><div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span>In the winter of 2005, I became angry enough with my relaxed hair that I decided to just cut it off. I wasn’t thinking clearly about my plan of action. I just knew that I wanted to take my relaxed hair off my head so I did a butchers job of it. Lol. This is quite funny because at the time, I just grew my hair and kept it natural. I was not aware of how to maintain it. I did not have any agenda on how I intended to nurture my hair. Also, I faced a lot of pressure from friends and family on my decision. Every time I went back to Nigeria, friends and family would comment on how nuts I was. In December of 2009, I lost track of my purpose and I ended up relaxing my hair. The minute I did this, I knew it was the wrong decision for me. I would spend the next 18 months grieving for my natural hair. But I knew that I was not ready for it. I was not armed with the information which I needed to ensure that my natural journey was successful.</p><p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG1C2nDMb9OTi9UGhESOO3LXi0bjdxCSvzC0BHlfPbcv5dKZcjhVznieh9BbmyeolYtatin27ZTbV0caCHLXouMQGznsptOGgAiR6zu5cvwr83cK3gXg4XDpPYweSwzVwQH0nWRWLZ7fA/s1600/2005.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG1C2nDMb9OTi9UGhESOO3LXi0bjdxCSvzC0BHlfPbcv5dKZcjhVznieh9BbmyeolYtatin27ZTbV0caCHLXouMQGznsptOGgAiR6zu5cvwr83cK3gXg4XDpPYweSwzVwQH0nWRWLZ7fA/s200/2005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615626718483303330" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">********sorry for the low resolution pictures from 2005 - 2006***************<br /></p><p style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"> In October 2010, I was again angry with the relaxer and I chopped off my hair… again. Lol! Yes.. I did.. I chopped it off. This time around, I felt like I was in a better place to handle my natural hair compared to 2005. Now I had the courage to style my natural hair and go to work while back in 2005 I would never do this ( what is the point in keeping natural hair if you are not going to wear it out right??)</p><div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;"><img src="file:///C:/Users/Toba/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot.png" alt="" /></div><div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"> </p><div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">A few months down the line,<span style=""> </span>I am doing well with my natural hair. I have learnt to condition and pamper my hair. I have learnt that an</p><p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">yone who says a black woman does not need to wash her hair every week is a liar. I have learn protective styles for my natural hair and I have most importantly learnt how to respond to people who tell me that my hair is “different”</p><div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">My hair is 100% kinky and I am </p> <p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">from Oke-Odo in Ibadan, Nigeria.. there is no racial mixing history in my family which my hair could have benefited from. I believe that every black woman can do this but I am not advocating to convince every black woman to go the same route as me. I am just simply sharing my experience.</p><p style="text-align: left; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh07GCwIFLNUlMuNT43e6htbhHdPNd0fEE071ZATeHiOMbL2nCRwxCYzL4fWPzCgBsdhCAF-9MHp2rNt8FEJUBc9R60ltYTr_h9ajr_NQnj9iSp9bG2vmkuwQcaqYH4_M10fhwih-WvItk/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh07GCwIFLNUlMuNT43e6htbhHdPNd0fEE071ZATeHiOMbL2nCRwxCYzL4fWPzCgBsdhCAF-9MHp2rNt8FEJUBc9R60ltYTr_h9ajr_NQnj9iSp9bG2vmkuwQcaqYH4_M10fhwih-WvItk/s200/12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615630234238465410" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcZP9GgrtI5igDMxTLyR9k2spTXDhJC6jHzpC0OjLDDG9qcVBvqKMvbo9sjd3aWZWWBoj5MdbPNRdPYy-5-wl0WzAdl5yqErR8oqH3Zrbi2O8Qp5PNzKKwDm7fj3Ifm6ziKpb4ycLoIOk/s1600/14.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 161px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcZP9GgrtI5igDMxTLyR9k2spTXDhJC6jHzpC0OjLDDG9qcVBvqKMvbo9sjd3aWZWWBoj5MdbPNRdPYy-5-wl0WzAdl5yqErR8oqH3Zrbi2O8Qp5PNzKKwDm7fj3Ifm6ziKpb4ycLoIOk/s200/14.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615630238765278866" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">2011<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">I hope you can see the differences in how my hair looked back in 2005 when I sponteanously went natural without being fully prepared and in 2011 when I was actually taking proper care of my hair. The 2011 pictures are less than a years worth of growth and I have since trimmed the ends to ensure the relaxed bits were totally taken off.<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal"> </p><div style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify; color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-weight: bold;" class="MsoNormal">It is my hope that as my hair continues to grow, I can share with blogsville my experience and hopefully one day encourage someone to go “NATCHIE”</p>Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-74144661483503966112011-02-27T12:54:00.001-08:002012-09-18T01:56:28.303-07:0027th Feb 2011<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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For well over a year now, I have stayed away from my blog. I have not been in a place where I felt like sharing anything speak less of opening my heart out to blogsville. </div>
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I have noticed that a huge number of folks are no longer blogging. Maybe they have moved on. I have also noted that a huge number of bloggers are still in here doing their thing. This is really good. That is some commitment.</div>
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It is very interesting how the UK seems to sap the life out of you. Something about this country just aint right. My present local government area is not even making things any better. The past year has been one thing after the other. Frigging anti immigration sentiments is running deep. The UKBA is formulating tight policies to keep non-eu immigrants out of the country. A few of my friends have fallen in the process and it just doesn’t feel right. </div>
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Another thing on my mind is the question of relationships. Is it possible to actually make a long distance relationship work?? Ie Lagos vs. London. I have always managed to steer clear of this but recent happenings have brought these thoughts to the forefront of my mind.</div>
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Another thing is that I am working too hard. (At least I am getting the recognition for it which is the only solace here) Work in the UK is just that.. WORK.. catch flu.. work some more.. catch some more flu.. go on holiday and repeat the cycle.. Highly disturbing I tell you. It will be nice to get another assignment abroad and just step away from the UK for a bit. Lol. </div>
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A recent story in the news is of a certain 20yrs old naija-british girl called “Claudia” Claudia was a very pretty student based in London and she seemed to have it all..everything except a big ass.. ie Nikky Minaj type ass. Claudia had the ambition of being the ultimate hip hop honey and shaking it in hip hop videos but her lack of booty made her career prospects a bit bleak. So, Claudia turned to the internet to find a place where she could acquire some extra booty. A few months later, Claudia checked into a budget hotel in the US where she was administered a fatal injection of industrial grade silicone into her ass. 12 hours later she had some severe chest pains and she died of cardiac arrest at the hospital. </div>
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What really strikes me is the desperation people seem to face when they think a certain part of their bodies does not conform. Why did Claudia have to think her life could never be complete without a big ass? How could she have let anyone stick a big needle in her and inject her with crap that was so lethal? My big fear now of plastic cosmetics procedures is the desperation of people and how they would sign up for quacks in order to get cheap deals. </div>
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I would not be surprised if the next story I read would be that of some fat person who was so frustrated with being fat that they resorted to performing a homemade liposuction procedure using a dyson power ball hoover!</div>
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Stay bless you all!</div>
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Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-33288753389560234352010-03-06T06:24:00.000-08:002010-03-06T06:38:56.894-08:00Oslo – One Massive Deep FreezeNorway is a beautiful country. They people have a good quality of life, they dress nice, get paid shit loads of money and generally, Norwegians are not know for making much trouble around the world. So when an opportunity came up to do a work thing in Oslo in Feb, I snapped it up without thinking much of it. I was actually looking forward to it as my first and last time in Norway was a job interview in Stavanger and the whole trip was less than 48hrs. All in all, this trip was going to be a lovely trip.<br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />The only thing I did not bargain for was the frigidity of the Norwegian state in the month of February. My Lawd!! Words do not begin to describe the coldness of the situation. It was snowing constantly and ice was piling up on ice. Temperature was at -12degC (10.4 degF) and I was totally perplexed with snow. All i wanted to do was go to the office, back to the hotel and jump under the blanked. However, i did not resign myself to such a boring fate. I went out as much as I could, drink as little as i could because i did not have the 6 pounds to pay for a simple bottle of J2O. Did i mention how expensive things are out there??<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjguUa1v7NTcWW5du2MrHzkNztf20wx_umbvx8GbENYG5cz_yJJUs4aqbmpscvvcXRtfkGDfB7nrZv9qeOTlEyv-WRg5FSiQtC5YBpmJfq7eiR-tqEOvz5gUB6CNq_MEi-fWpOU7jPYuxY/s1600-h/SDC11446.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 112px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjguUa1v7NTcWW5du2MrHzkNztf20wx_umbvx8GbENYG5cz_yJJUs4aqbmpscvvcXRtfkGDfB7nrZv9qeOTlEyv-WRg5FSiQtC5YBpmJfq7eiR-tqEOvz5gUB6CNq_MEi-fWpOU7jPYuxY/s200/SDC11446.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445528656557124706" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXx-mLMPeuLkFUJ3qt2ZvGFezcdEMPHwabd9xgwW-f3-ISekrUc68MQs0Vm7lDcynVmdY9lLKLFxin65F97eL4VjhSWIvLNjPbWqrOo8pljYbL2NtkL5FTwGaP59qX9sILxXi2Tl6IfwE/s1600-h/SDC11461.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 112px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXx-mLMPeuLkFUJ3qt2ZvGFezcdEMPHwabd9xgwW-f3-ISekrUc68MQs0Vm7lDcynVmdY9lLKLFxin65F97eL4VjhSWIvLNjPbWqrOo8pljYbL2NtkL5FTwGaP59qX9sILxXi2Tl6IfwE/s200/SDC11461.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445528661365067154" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpPJkDR3kMBPWqUtykIld4PQzi4JNMhvgg7uqskqkBiLtGqcZnP1OtODukTWIjATgZNYomoEqkqZHyuuAkZWqELMzC1lfWEyqBAxcMFdXia6kYH71JC6RVLjjEKMl1xeEDm_MUhamBnm0/s1600-h/SDC11479.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 112px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpPJkDR3kMBPWqUtykIld4PQzi4JNMhvgg7uqskqkBiLtGqcZnP1OtODukTWIjATgZNYomoEqkqZHyuuAkZWqELMzC1lfWEyqBAxcMFdXia6kYH71JC6RVLjjEKMl1xeEDm_MUhamBnm0/s200/SDC11479.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445528670884778146" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The highlight of my trip to Oslo was looking for Vigeland Park with my French workmate. Now, i had heard that the Norwegians had a park which was filled with naked statues so i thought i would be doing a great dis-service to myself by not going. Only problem was that the temperature was well below freezing, it was snowing buckets, we were on foot for a long time and my French friend even managed to hit the floor on slippery ice! By the time we found Vigeland Park, yours truly had turned into a pillar of ice, frozen fingers and toes. Hehehe, this was not a funny matter. For a split second, i panicked because i could not feel my own fingers.. lol..<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1uOhaz_7XcYVWQ1EwO3qE6gHLftFYLjeQSy8m0i79JoPiNxbAAOdZw-SYZyUWEH8hbkRyT1LQJFM-kzexsM2BwLy7B1m8NRAisNmftkzGNlYjp5_QDKe8phpeO5yYs13GvOuoVBDPHk/s1600-h/SDC11487.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 112px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1uOhaz_7XcYVWQ1EwO3qE6gHLftFYLjeQSy8m0i79JoPiNxbAAOdZw-SYZyUWEH8hbkRyT1LQJFM-kzexsM2BwLy7B1m8NRAisNmftkzGNlYjp5_QDKe8phpeO5yYs13GvOuoVBDPHk/s200/SDC11487.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445528676980160434" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDrz9TDS9rAvaNxgHtonw-KDroFFcyY6Tsp3T_KW09nonUUMLS3ApK68qgFasbNxjDwjxBZAtMCvxxCZL_ZrqJ5WADpjHkyQT5JNx66UwUSWKV8IqRPVHnsAntTu1tIeEGXlYNGkhMXEc/s1600-h/SDC11492.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDrz9TDS9rAvaNxgHtonw-KDroFFcyY6Tsp3T_KW09nonUUMLS3ApK68qgFasbNxjDwjxBZAtMCvxxCZL_ZrqJ5WADpjHkyQT5JNx66UwUSWKV8IqRPVHnsAntTu1tIeEGXlYNGkhMXEc/s200/SDC11492.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445528681387555042" border="0" /></a><br />To be honest with you, i was happy when the trip ended. I was looking forward to the warm 2degC temperatures that London had to offer. Everyone on the plane had a runny nose or one kind of transmutation of the cold.<br /><br />All in all, if you intend on going to enjoy Norway (and you don’t intend to go skiing), do not go in the first quarter of the year. You may just be disappointed. (And do not go when you are broke) <br /><br /></div>Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-73619176888657252242010-02-08T13:41:00.000-08:002012-09-18T01:57:00.664-07:00Bikini Clad Fantasies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ever since the moment I realised I was my own person and I could do whatever I wanted to do, the first thought that came to my mind back in 2006 was that I wanted to go to Ibiza. Why Ibiza? Well, Ibiza was the HQ of British sin-dom at the time. Teenagers going out on dead cheap flights, cavorting on the streets and getting arrested. I did not pick Ibiza because i wanted to get myself arrested but I picked Ibiza because it was probably the only holiday that I could afford at the time. They had week deals for ridiculous prices like 150Euros. Now if that was not a deal, I don’t know what would have been<br />
Part of my Ibiza fantasy involved buying my very first bikini. Lol. Yes, Myself, TOLANTINO, at some sinful holiday resort in Ibiza, sipping on Mojitos, Cosmopolitan cocktails the whole lot, in my very sinful looking bikini beside the pool just enjoying myself into oblivion. But this fantasy was not complete. The next part would involve me slowly setting aside my empty cocktail glass and sashaying into the pool for a cool off swim. My GOODNESS.. that was the ultimate fantasy. However, there was a small glitch in this fantasy, Tolantino could not swim even if her life depended on it. <br />
I just could not swim! I never learnt to swim as a child. So this little detail made my little Ibiza fantasy an impossible one. There is no way on earth I would go to Ibiza, lay beside the pool in a bikini, sip on cocktails in my bikini and not go into the pool for a cool off swim. No way. I was going to make this fantasy work one way or the other though and this was what motivated me to take up swimming classes in my final year at uni. <br />
I vividly remember my first swimming class in the winter of 2005. I was so terrified to let go of the side of the pool. My instructor kept reassuring me and here was this grown ass of a 20 year old female screaming ‘’ Mommy.. I can’t do it’’ hehehehehehe. My instructor would come back and say ‘’Tola.. your mommy is not going to help you.. Let go of the wall!’’ Lol. I slowly started to understand that there was no way I would drown in 1m depth of water, I learnt my balance. We moved on to the breast strokes and the front crawl. I learnt my breathing techniques. I completed the beginner’s class and I believe till this day that this is one of my greatest non-academic accomplishments (other than passing my UK Driving Test!) I am so proud of myself for getting over my fear of drowning and trusting my body to keep me afloat. One of the most difficult things one could ever do as an adult is learn to swim. You have to get over your fear of drowning and this is not as easy as it may sound. <br />
<br />
Recently, I graduated to the deep end of the pool. 2.0m and I felt totally confident. My new gym has a massive swimming pool as well so I will be going more often to practice my strokes. I am even thinking of joining the advanced swimming class now. I cannot wait to see how that goes<br />
<br />
Why am I blogging about swimming again? <br />
Firstly, I am trying to relate this to things in life which one may think is totally impossible and people’s reactions to such things. I look back 5 years to the day i bought my first swim suit and stepped into a pool for the first time. I remember those friends who teased me and said my ass was too big to float and i also remember those friends who were inspired by me and also took the step of learning to swim (and are still swimming!) Never let negativity and what people say affect your dreams baby. You are more than all that. The most important thing is your ability and your aspirations. <br />
Secondly, I am finally going to buy that bikini, that bikini is going to be BAD ASS and I am not going to Ibiza. I’m thinking South America, maybe Venezuela where people live in their bikinis!! God knows I deserve this!</div>
Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-91222555517150706802010-02-07T16:14:00.000-08:002010-02-07T16:16:52.435-08:00I think I may be backAfter a lot of debating with myself to see if I would carry on with this blog or not, I have finally decided to carry on blogging. I sort of feel as if I have a story to tell, and I have not even started my story. I thought about opening another anonymous blog but I felt that would be like a betrayal to the memory of THIS blog and why I started blogging in the first place.<br />Blogsville has changed for real. I cannot find Naapali, Naija Waitress, even Pink Gloves now has a private blog. I need to remind her in my next convo with her that she never invited me to her brand new private blog. I wonder what that girl is putting up on the web (by invitation only my ass). Having said that, I am so happy to see people like Sisto, 30+ and Aloted doing their thing on blogsville.it is well, more internet bandwidth to all your elbows.<br /><br />Soo, Tolantino is back. (Again)<br />One Love Y’allTolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-33048537601281858372009-08-17T04:56:00.000-07:002009-08-17T05:00:28.339-07:00Johannesburg (South Africa), Gaborone (Botswana)<div align="justify"><span style="color:#ff9900;"><strong></strong></span></div><p align="justify"><span style="color:#ff9900;"><strong>I have a long time friend called Thandi. I met her in 2001 during my first year at the Manchester Metropolitan University. We have since been friends through thick and thin. I like to call her “My Ride or Die Chic” You know that kind of friend who has seen you at your lowest and at the same time rocked with you during the time of abundance. That’s who Thandi is to me. To cut the long story short, Thandi is from Botswana. The first time she told me her country, I was like “huh? Where be that?” Lol. It was from her that I learnt that Botswana is a prosperous African country of about 3 million people (only!) in the southern region of Africa. Botswana is a country blessed with diamonds and shares boarders with South Africa, Zimbabwe and Namibia. So I find myself in Botswana with Thandi after a long driver through Johannesburg in South Africa and guess who drove the whole 450km?. Lol. I will be here for a total of 2 weeks before I return back to the UK. The whole trips has been so surreal and trust that I will sit down to dedicate a thorough post. For now, I am enjoying what it is to be in a prosperous African nation. The prosperity is so amazing that it almost brings tears to my eyes knowing that this is something Nigeria desperately needs. I will be sure to update this blog with full details of my trip once I am back in the UK. Until then… stay blessed!</strong></span></p><p align="justify"><span style="color:#ff9900;"><strong></strong></span> </p><p align="justify"><span style="color:#ff9900;"><strong>Tolantino (without wax...)</strong></span></p>Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-36246018409755865512009-07-09T11:58:00.000-07:002009-07-09T12:23:22.114-07:00Software Upgrade - Not much of an Upgrade<div align="justify"><span style="color:#ffcc33;"><strong>Office 2007??<br /><br />This piece of software is seriously killing me. Having a work laptop sucks. You don’t have a choice of what to put on the computer or what to NOT put on the computer. Left to me, I would stick with office 2003. Afterall, I have been using it for donkey years and never had an issue with it. But Big Blue had to switch everyone one to office 2007 and since then, my life has not been the same. The simple act of composing in Microsoft word becomes a huge chore when you don’t know where the “insert caption” button is. Everything I need to do, I have to “F1” the information.(deep hiss) I don’t need all this yeye learning curves. All I need is to be able to cook up a document in Word and not rekindle my computer-illiterate years</strong></span></div>Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-60729467916446712162009-06-22T10:40:00.000-07:002009-06-22T10:42:31.519-07:00The Gift of Life<div align="justify"><span style="color:#ffcc33;"><strong></strong></span></div><p align="justify"><span style="color:#ffcc33;"><strong>It’s rather funny how we live life without noticing the little things which we take for granted e.g, the idea of Life itself. Being able to wake up in the morning, hugging the people we love most, picking up the phone and calling them up to make arrangements and hearing the soothing sound of their breadths at the other end of the phone. It’s a shame how we do not acknowledge those little things that makes our lives so much more bearable. We are indeed fortunate.<br /><br />To bring things into perspective, stretch out your left hand before your eyes and observe all five fingers. Look at the length of your fingers. They all vary in length. I look at my left hand as I type this post and wonder why all five fingers are not equal. Could it be that there is a true purpose behind this?. For instance, the varying length of all five fingers makes it so much easier for me to find the entire keys one my keyboard. I doubt if this simple act of typing could have been achieved with as much ease compared to if all five fingers were equal.<br /><br />You guys are probably wondering where all this is going right? Well, I am a bit unwell right now and have been told to stay away from work (this illness is story for another day). When you are home with so much time on your hands, its amazing the sorts of thoughts which plays through your mind like a home video.<br /><br />I know of a family friend who recently died in her prime. She was young, mid twenties, had all of her life to live. She was loved dearly, she loved dearly, and she was cherished by many. She was a star and she was shinning at her brightest. But she had been marked from birth with an allergy. This allergy killed her in her prime. I was not a close friend to her however; I am in the same age group as she is. The only difference between us two is that I do not have an allergy (not that I know of anyway) My point is this, that girl could have still been here, with the ones that loved her. But due to some catastrophic fate, she just had to have an allergy! This really angers me! Why did this have to happen to her? Death does not make sense. I have known a lot of people die young, but for some reason, I look at her picture and I feel all the wrong-ness of the situation. She could have grown well beyond all of her parents aspirations; she could have smiled her beautiful smile once again. Her parents could have been spared the hurt of burying an only daughter.<br /><br />Another story making the rounds in the news today is regarding the late Cameroonian international footballer, MarcViven Foe. He was an international star, great charisma; he was at the top of his game. He was 100% fit as a horse but, he was also marked with a heart defect he didn’t even know anything of. The whole world watched him slump to his death on a football pitch.. He was only 27/28 yrs old. It kind of makes you wonder doesn’t it? Is there something anatomically wrong with you? Something that could be a potential time bomb?<br /><br />So as a conclusion to this rather depressing post, there are so many things out there that could kill you, ranging from “natural causes” such as an enlarged heart, an allergy or whatever to the “un-natural causes” which include the deranged psycho-killer, the drunk driver driving in the wrong lane or the crazy okada rider who almost ploughs his motor bike into you on the pedestrian pavement!. We cannot sit by and let these things hold us down.<br /><br />I hope that people with allergies are more aware of the seriousness of their conditions and do more to avoid making contact with things that could kill them. I hope the public becomes more aware of the seriousness of having an allergy and help sufferers in staying away from their allergies. I feel rather ashamed to confess that I have always brushed off people having allergies as being ridiculous and far fetched. I have never known anyone with an allergy and the case I have written about came as a bit of a shock to me.<br /><br />I hope that people become more aware that the human body is not an indestructible appliance. A single bolt out of place or misaligned can bring it all down. I hope that we can all learn to live our lives to the fullest when we have the opportunity to do so because this life, though precious and sweet, can come to an all too sudden end much sooner than anticipated</strong></span></p>Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-32563652689462431862009-06-22T09:24:00.000-07:002009-06-22T09:40:43.695-07:00Last Post In India<div align="justify"><span style="color:#ffcc33;"><strong></strong></span></div><p align="justify"><em><strong><span style="color:#666666;">Hey Guys.. I mentioned that I made a post on my last day in India. I am attaching my writings and thoughts below:</span></strong></em></p><p align="justify"><span style="color:#ffcc33;"><strong></strong></span></p><p align="justify"><span style="color:#ffcc33;"><strong>Over the last couple of months, I totally lost any type of interest in maintaining this blog. I recognized this as a turning point in my life. I had basically come to accept India for what it is. Mumbai where I am based may not be the best place in the world, but its certainly not the worst. According to an article on CNN, the worst place to live and work in the world is Lagos. Yes my brothers and sisters, our very own Lagos and Mumbai came in at an impressive 5th. I was convinced that if Mumbai was not the top of the list, it would certainly be the second. But I was forced to eat my words people.<br /><br />Over the last few months, I have done a lot of things in india. I visited New Delhi which is like the Abuja of India. I also went on a suicidal road trip to infamous Goa. The total distance from Mumbai is 550km on what is the most tiniest, zig-zagest, hilliest and most perilous road that I have ever been on in my entire life. We had rented a car and the whole journey took a total of 10hrs. By the time we got to Goa, I had cursed myself on numerous occasions. I was being tight and didn’t want to pay the 20,000 rupees for the return flight. I ended up paying less than 5000 rupees for the entire car trip. The to and fro journey took 24hrs and believe me, the Goa experience is second to none. The drive was the most scenic of my life. I would definitely go again but definitely not by road.<br /><br />Ahh.. life has been good. I was in Naija for xmas and new year. I came back to India and went on a work related trip to Houston. The experience was nice but I swear to God that the most stupidest thing I have ever done, other than travelling to Goa by road was to choose to go to Houston for work seminar from India (18hrs total trip.. minus transit times) when I could have hopped on a 4hr plane from Mumbai to Abu-Dhabi to do the same course. I was jetlagged for almost one week. Working with 12hrs time difference, it felt like my body was in Houston, but my spirit, kidney, liver and all other vital organs were in Mumbai. Totally awful experience. I would not do it again except there is entirely no other options available.<br /><br />I came back from Houston to find that I am being transferred back to the UK. The news came as a bit of a shock at first because I was not expecting to go back until Oct 09. They wanted me to go back 6 months early and they wanted me out of the country like yesterday. Everything was so rushed up. I only got the transfer letter 8 days ago and here I am, sitting at the Chatrapati Shivaji International Airport, Mumbai, waiting on my Qatar plane to start boarding for the trip back to Manchester. All my belongings in Mumbai were picked up two days ago by the shipping company. Everything has been a blur to be quite honest with you. But with all certainty, I will be arriving in Manchester later today.<br /><br />I will miss so many things about Mumbai. The cheapness of the place for starters. The ability to just walk into a 5 star hotel or bar and just ENJOY.. hehehe…My friends and other expat co-workers, Dela-Madam. Between Friday and Wednesday, I swear they must have sent me off like 5 different times every single day of the week. I will miss these guys so dearly. Everything did seem a bit artificial to me in the beginning and I knew it would all have to come to an end but I just didn’t expect it to end so soon. Its all this failing world economy. I blame it on the economic downturn. But to be honest with you, I am excited to go back. I will be going to shop for a car. I will start looking for a flat. My gosh.. I am all giddy with excitement.<br /><br />In all, India for me has been an incredible experience. I will never regret my choice in leaving the comfy-ness of my place in Manchester and embarking on this journey. A lot of people thought I was crazy to do this but it was worth it. There have been tears, laughter, despair, anger, loneliness, fear, joy, contentment and every other emotion that you can think of. I am so very much grateful.<br /><br />I don’t know if I will be keeping up this blog when I go back to the UK. I am still thinking of it. I will make up my mind depending on what I encounter when I get there.<br /><br /><br />PS: Someone from work in india discovered my blog and he came up to me asking “You don’t really like India now do you?” I was like.. “Ermm… Ermmm.. “ But what I should have said is that “its my blog.. my expressions.. leave it to me and keep your opinions to your very opinionated self!” hehehe.. lol.. But really, there isn’t anything offensive on this blog is there? As per work related and stuff? If anyone thinks I may be stepping on some sensitive toes, please let me know and I will exercise caution.<br /><br /><br />Tolantino..</strong></span></p>Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-14520540615905033152009-06-17T05:33:00.000-07:002009-06-17T05:36:08.038-07:00The Proverbial Prodigal Daughter<div align="justify"><span style="color:#ff9900;">Goshness…<br /><br />How does one get to explain such a long absence from THE BLOG? Where do I start from? It is almost impossible to pack into one single post all the experiences, ups and downs, highs and lows and everything else that has happened since.. well since the last post. I have received quiet a few messages from good fellow bloggers asking me to update and my frame of mind was just too far removed from blogging that I could not bring finger to keyboard and pour all my feelings into a page or two of Microsoft word. I guess sitting here in a stuffy cyber café in Lagos; I have found the inspiration which I have not been able to summon for such a long time. That and the fact that I have been having this nagging feeling for that past year or two of wanting to write a book. Yea.. Tolantino writes a book! Waddaya make of that?? Lol.. Its not going to be an autobiography (God No!) I am too young for all that and besides.. I believe there is still more in store for me. I have not arrived yet. I am still on my journey and when I get to my destination, maybe I will write an autobiography!<br /><br />I know you want to know the latest with me right? Well.. I LEFT INDIA!!! (I am sure a lot of you guys are singing hallelujah choruses on my behalf) I left in March and was transferred back to the office in UK. I remember sitting at the Chatrapati Shivaji International Airport in Mumbai on my last day out of India and I made a post for this blog. This was back in March and I had every intention of posting it up here. I just never got around to it. Well, I will be putting it up hopefully sometime soon.<br />I miss Mumai! Would you believe that? I miss the craziness of the place as well as the frustrations of trying to communicate with the rickshaw drivers or the sales man at the shop or the waiter whom you have asked for a dish with no spice at all and who then returns with a dish swimming in so much spice that you have to abandon the meal. India has made me a more tolerant person. I have seen people being inhuman to each other and I have seen poverty but despite all the squalor, there was contentment. If given the chance, I would do it all over again, shed all those tears again and make the entire discovery all over again. Most of all, I miss the good friends I left behind. I miss the people who helped me to get through it all. I miss the workmate who sat with me as I cried on the helideck and the guy who wrote down Hindi words for me on the back of my diary so that I could communicate with the maid or the market men/women. I feel tears welling up in my eyes but I am done shedding tears for India. I am now in my NOW and I am looking forward to the rest of my life!<br />Since then, I have house hopped, bought a car called “Sandra”, got a flat of my own (Gosh the responsibilities involved in being the sole occupant of a flat!) and I have started to become a responsible young lady. Hehehehe.. (Not that I was ever irresponsible)<br />In addition to all this, I now have an office job which at first was so weird. Imagine not wearing ripped jeans and flip flops to work! It was the weirdest thing ever and it had to take some getting used to I tell you. I had to go shop for clean clothes and ditch all the coveralls and hard hats ( I had to clean up real nice o) Lol.<br /><br />Anyways, This is supposed to be a very short post, notifying this blog of my intentions to resume blogging. Just like the proverbial prodigal son who returned to his fathers home, the prodigal daughter returns to Blogsville. I wonder what tone this blog will take from now onward as there is no more India to rant about but trust Miss Tolantino to come up with something eh?<br /><br />Just look out for the next post..<br /> </span></div>Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-17334080180058223452008-12-26T23:19:00.002-08:002008-12-26T23:20:25.684-08:00Complements of the season… from Lagos<div align="justify"><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span></div><p align="justify"><span style="color:#ff0000;">After the terrorists’ attacks in Mumbai, I was sent to the rig shortly after, Discoverer 534 (my most fav rig so far). I went prepared with Xmas cards to give to my most fav people. Funny thing is that most people did not expect this gesture and it was well appreciated. My pastor will say I am sowing seeds.. hehehe.. The job itself was not a very stressful one. Just me and another guy. Very cool dude o. everything was too smooth with enough days as standby. Free money! My oga pulled me out of the rig like say two days before my Naija plane was due to leave Mumbai. I could not make it to Mumbai on the same day so had to spend the night in Rajahmundry.. Kai.. that place is dry sha. A whole Rajahmundry and nothing to do there.. The following day, I had to endure a 4hrs trip to Visakhapatnam aka Vizag to catch the flight leaving from there to Mumbai. I was already having visions of missing the following day’s flight to Lagos. I hadn’t done any kind of shopping and I was going to Naija the following day. The Lord is definitely my strength.<br /><br />I got to Mumbai late in the evening on Thursday and started putting my things together. Following evening for 7pm, I was on the emirates flight leaving Mumbai for Dubai. I had already scheduled my flight in such a way that I would have a 15hrs layover in Dubai. Emirates had already booked hotel and visa on my behalf. All on the house.. very sweet.<br /><br />I got to Dubai and first thing I did was call my girl Pink Gloves. Shout out to PG!! You sabi rock my girl. Took a taxi to her place and my girl had enough groove planned for me. From Trader Vicks to some other place that I cannot remember for the life of me. This was after I had sampled her pepper shripme.. that babe can also cook!! PG.. RESPEC o! I did not get back to my hotel room till 3.00am.. just in time to catch a quick nap for check out at 6.30am then straight back to Dubai airport to catch the 9.15am connection to Lagos. That layover is the best connection layover of my life.. hehehe.. enough groove..I shall be laying over more often in Dubai now.<br /><br />Naija people can pack load sha.. all these market women in Dubai airport with enough cabin baggage that is even more than check in limit. Why now?? Then they will now come and obtain the bin space on top of your seat like say you did not pay for your seat on the plane. Kai.. and then there was the naija man who started to lament at the boarding gate that someone had stolen his passport. Enough drama for my entertainment o.<br /><br />Na so I enter Lagos.. Lagos Na Wah O! Kai.. From Nepa to Bad Roads to Traffic to everything else.. Lagos is just too Much.. hehehe.. But the things I appreciate about lagos.. The liveliness of the place, the insanity of the place, seeing my family, being able to go to Ibadan for my cousins wedding.. Meeting Pink Gloves a week later in Lagos.. being able to go to saloons anyhow..Grooving on the Island.. anyone heard about 007 bar on the island.. if you never hear.. make you go find am.. and carry enough money with you. Gosh.. enough things that make me home sick for lagos. But I think this lagos is not the kind of place you come to for more than two weeks. Nepa has frustrated me die.. Mosquitoes sef take frustration join. I had a very good xmas. I went to visit family and friends.. everything was jolly.. even the police officers on the road were rather jolly. Greeting me Merry Xmas madam..” wetin you get for us??” (what do you have for us?) It is only in Lagos that the police officers will be greeting you “happy Monday madam” “Happy Tuesday” and Happy everyday of the week.. these guys are hungry!<br /><br />Lagos and weddings.. people just dey marry anyhow.. even as I dey type.. I got one wedding to go today.. hehehe.. last week Saturday too.. I was at another wedding.. fun fun fun.. Lagos is just too much with all the craziness and all the fun that is there to be had!! If it is not a wedding.. it is a birthday party, if it is not birthday party, it is promotion party, there is sha always one kind of party or the other going on.. I love Lagos for this!<br /><br />Wishing you all a happy new year in advance!</span></p>Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-24588249886969534522008-11-30T06:59:00.000-08:002008-11-30T07:02:09.918-08:00Terror Attacks in Mumbai: I am okay<span style="color:#ff0000;"> My people of blogsville.. I am fine.. Safe and sound. I generally live about 2.5hrs drive from the downtown area of Mumbai where all the attacks happened but I was incidentally having dinner with friends who live not so far from the attack sites. Shey you guys remember I have a new dentist. My dentist is not so far from the sites so I went to visit him on weds and then went on to spend sometime wit my friends who were in the area. Now, there is this Facebook group called Bombay Expats. They usually have an expat night every second weds at a restaurant which is just opposite the Taj Palace Hotel. My friends wanted to go, but because I had to travel back to my apartment and then go to the office the following day, I opted out. My girl Dee also opted out cos she has been having some back ache all week. We decided to settle for dinner and this was where we were having dinner when I got a text alert from my company’s security outfit around 11pm. The msg mentioned that there had been some disturbances in south Mumbai and to stay away from clubs and restaurants. Next thing I know..my older brother is calling me from London.. asking me where I was.. he was telling me that there were shootings and bombings in Mumbai and terrorist activities.. In his 5 mins call, I had received about 3 more text messages from my company and each one more ominous than the last. I was really scared at this time because I had just booked a taxi to take me back home (1 hr journey) I didn’t know where the bullets were coming from and I certainly was scared. One of my friends then came up with the craziest gist of all after she spoke to a co-worker. I kid you not… the gist went thus:<br /><br />“A nigerian man wielding an AK47 has opened fire on people in the Leopolds restaurant.. so, the Indians in Mumbai are now seeking revenge on all black people in Mumbai” (leopolds was one of the restaurants which was attacked by the terrorists)<br /><br />I am not joking guys.. hearing this gist.. my life almost flashed before me o.. I was like WTF! Someone give me Hijab I need to cover all of my face in this minute!!!<br /><br />But then we got to a TV and then we saw the news.. there was no mention of the Nigerian AK47 gunman and to say I was relieved is an understatement. My company closed the offices on Thursday and Friday through to Sunday. Thank God the siege is over. I got so many telephone calls from friends and so many facebook messages from people whom I haven’t even spoken to in a long while. I am really touched.<br /><br />One of the things I will take with me is how unpredictable this life is and how it could all be over so quickly. The areas of Mumbai which were attacked are places which I usually frequent for Sunday morning bruches whenever I am around. These terrorist could have decided to strike on one fine Sunday morning while me and my friends were munching away on brunch in one of these fine hotels.. I thank God I am safe.. and I also thank God that me and mine are also safe and sound!!<br /><br />Thanks to you all for your messages…<br /><br /><br />Love..<br /><br />Tola</span>Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-49046772730151180082008-11-07T08:38:00.000-08:002008-11-07T09:09:47.472-08:00D534-Mumbai-D534-Kakinad<span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">I came back from the rig only to arrive mumbai for my boss to call me early the following morning not to come to work. I was bewildered. How badly did I mess up for him to give me a personal call not to come to work when I haven’t even brushed my mouth so early in the morning? He then went on to mention that there had been reported cases of violence in Mumbai and all foreigners were advised to stay at home. Man! I was so elated! Just imagine.. free day off?? All because of why? Some politician named Raj Thackery had been mongering hate amongst the locals asking them to chase immigrants out of Maharastra state (for those who don’t know, Mumbai is a city and it is in Maharastra state as well as some other big cities like Pune) Tcheiw, come as see these jobless people burning toll booths and taxis early morning news. They can hardly feed themselves and come and see them throwing stones and being destructive. Anyways, me I no send anyone.. I took the day off and went to my local beauty parlor. I had a full body massage. It was total heaven. I even went comatose while the masseuse was doing her magic. It was the sound of me snoring that woke me up.. hehehe.. yea.. I hear myself snore.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">Fast forward to the weekend. On Saturday I went to check out a new dentist. Did I mention that the last dentist I was with was starting to experiment with my mouth? I just generally had a bad feeling about this guy. So I took the train from Thane to a place called Dardar (yess o.. I am now bonafide Mumbai babe). Some chick on some Bombay expat group had recommended her dentist so I decided to go check him out. First thing Mr.Fancy New Dentist asked me for were the X-rays taken by the last dentist. Me I was like “err.. sorry Mr. Fancy.. I don’t have no X-rays” Mr. Fancy could not believe that the past dentist did not take x-rays before sticking braces in my mouth. I left his office feeling as though I was lucky to still have my teeth attached to my gums. Hehehe.. really.. this is not a funny matter o. I have now officially switched to Mr. Fancy. I will be commencing treatment in the next month or so.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><div style="text-align: justify;">Before I could say “Tolantino is back in Mumbai” My boss had sent me on another mission to Discoverer-534. I was working with Iti again and some other cool Indian guy. Really, I did have fun. The job was very short. I was there for six days and I probably only slept on 4 occasions for no more than 6hrs. It was work work work.. cool thing is that the guys working on the rig were also still very cool people. Very fun. They even used to pass me and Iti candies every now and again.. hehehe..The joys of being a woman on a testosterone filled offshore rig! I love D534 and I wanna go again!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTZkU07Bv0D3QQK07t4I6e63XAwfqXpERKBVBKCYWvieS__m-MMzxt0N_lGzGPntxR0jH5b8tNG4SyDAfP7ai2snzPpwemBKAv5gx1VyB9loNYga7HBZ62lWVQeEpKtXjXXKDVuAMxOLI/s1600-h/leaving+d534.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTZkU07Bv0D3QQK07t4I6e63XAwfqXpERKBVBKCYWvieS__m-MMzxt0N_lGzGPntxR0jH5b8tNG4SyDAfP7ai2snzPpwemBKAv5gx1VyB9loNYga7HBZ62lWVQeEpKtXjXXKDVuAMxOLI/s200/leaving+d534.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265962356867492466" border="0" /></a><br /></div>Here you can see the rig floor in the background. This is where the drilling operations take place :-)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-gfREVSRgvDKY6gRXTfx91Pn9LQ7ZVwoUvDkUX-GNCY3zTYBBxT5yA8kUgtRErEPh2PuDo5FgaLJTmDNZuFxAPeTM0uRHQCkIOy520EQVt7lIjXCpq4niF7JVhlZTx_J_jsLN6SzmMP8/s1600-h/ocean.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-gfREVSRgvDKY6gRXTfx91Pn9LQ7ZVwoUvDkUX-GNCY3zTYBBxT5yA8kUgtRErEPh2PuDo5FgaLJTmDNZuFxAPeTM0uRHQCkIOy520EQVt7lIjXCpq4niF7JVhlZTx_J_jsLN6SzmMP8/s200/ocean.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265959138201686738" border="0" /></a>Last day on D534.. bone deep tired but still manage a smile :-D<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-TIttEHFo6xGqz7qSCHAYcHMAvzEehjjxIMsOp62vdT1hhbjPflj72Z6_UPStlTzXwITgnYs6rULpIxtnLumbPwaRIuWuVuyUpI3L70MB9nREIdfkaFneSCMMMws_R8cOMf_aHyWKI9w/s1600-h/fishing+boats.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-TIttEHFo6xGqz7qSCHAYcHMAvzEehjjxIMsOp62vdT1hhbjPflj72Z6_UPStlTzXwITgnYs6rULpIxtnLumbPwaRIuWuVuyUpI3L70MB9nREIdfkaFneSCMMMws_R8cOMf_aHyWKI9w/s200/fishing+boats.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265959151712157394" border="0" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">I love this pic. <span style="font-style: italic;">(You can see fishermen from local villages who swamp our ship every evening in search of big fishes. there was a night we counted ab0ut 50 of them. The client then hired a small patrol boat to chase these fishermen from fishing close to the ship and disrupting operations.. you can see them advancing from the horizon. Make me feel as though we are being invaded!)</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">As soon as the job was done, we were already on a chopper back to Rajamundry. My boss sent us straight to Kakinada! Yikes.. You all know how much love I got for Kakinada. I came here with great trepidation/dread. From my own experiences, they only send you to kakinada when they wanna screw you over! I’ve been here twice in the past and they all had stories/experiences attached with them. I have blogged all about it.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">So, on reaching Kakinada two days ago, I was put up in one of the company staff houses. Great thing about this place is that there are maids who wait on your 24/7 needs. Always at your beck and call.. hehehe and my room has mosquito nets so I am very well protected. This time around, I can actually say that I have been having fun in Kakinada. It is mighty strange though but seems like the angels are on my side this time around (not that they weren’t in the past) My second night here we went to Kakinada beach.</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNmj8zouhuhy6XpGStZ1fywXwA1Xn_NtSyaGQZNGRb-4XaNh1mm-rrF2PjPszCmdYuSGEDRyLeA-Ny5j_TSm6WCKzGeZ9Q7PORsvraiCFuhpk3SONRhFBhiFkzGURoRFH4HMoxO3-HiUM/s1600-h/water1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNmj8zouhuhy6XpGStZ1fywXwA1Xn_NtSyaGQZNGRb-4XaNh1mm-rrF2PjPszCmdYuSGEDRyLeA-Ny5j_TSm6WCKzGeZ9Q7PORsvraiCFuhpk3SONRhFBhiFkzGURoRFH4HMoxO3-HiUM/s200/water1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265958442134500594" border="0" /></a>Lovely KKD Beach<br /></div><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTMttX6LXbEXzvQ-J9SH6S_-c6B-w2XuoD56Ksjno5vKjCN5cIC4VU5W2jfRASEYqcmazkuUwgg1nARKQFsQokqlMxdL1PRwpFO-ffh4X5H65zEqSjyRZ0kGHhI3qIfDSLiQ4zEuKjkvc/s1600-h/sunset.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTMttX6LXbEXzvQ-J9SH6S_-c6B-w2XuoD56Ksjno5vKjCN5cIC4VU5W2jfRASEYqcmazkuUwgg1nARKQFsQokqlMxdL1PRwpFO-ffh4X5H65zEqSjyRZ0kGHhI3qIfDSLiQ4zEuKjkvc/s200/sunset.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265958441343407410" border="0" /></a>Lovely KKD Sunset<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">It was so blue and non polluted. I really loved it. One of the managers here was being transferred to Turkmenistan so we all went to his place in the evening and had drinks over masala snacks.. my tongue was so numb from the alcohol that I did not feel the spiciness of the situation..hehehe.. it was really good fun hanging out with this guys.. seems like the kakinada folks are more friendly than the Mumbai office people. Nothing spoil sha. All this was last night. I didn’t even know I was intoxicated until I got up to leave and my head did like 20 back flips in 10 seconds.. hehehe.. I had totally arrived..</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">The guys in the KKD base had put up a volley ball net in front of our office so they invited me to come play. Your girl has never stood on a volley ball court ever but I am never one to turn down a challenge. It was us against drivers and security guards and technicians.. everyone was on on the Volley ball court. What was weird was that the guys were teaching me how to serve and they were going like “mam.. this is how to hold the ball..” I thought that was hilarious. Here is me, playing volley ball with the driver who will drive me home and he’s also teaching me how to make a volley! I totally loved it.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzFVpM2yci6Ni_C9ki9UasOW2ZOSpjWKHgJ4PEcKtQbnWnAgCfckzCnej_oFqC1wkcJWPp4Flfdqofxsi50DOX2GDpopK5agDmhxCGartI6tAbz0N1XcI1q09YTbxJITcIVLzYBTIbdUQ/s1600-h/volley1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzFVpM2yci6Ni_C9ki9UasOW2ZOSpjWKHgJ4PEcKtQbnWnAgCfckzCnej_oFqC1wkcJWPp4Flfdqofxsi50DOX2GDpopK5agDmhxCGartI6tAbz0N1XcI1q09YTbxJITcIVLzYBTIbdUQ/s200/volley1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265958447459160450" border="0" /></a>Armature volley ball player<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiow0ZT7FHmQGxjhF_E-yzavT1CUtNSkjpuOx2FEa49tfLHoez73lD4s-MR51ItBE30wxhbrI4Z7w1whyPV3MFItdooGg3adqYE3vH1yYyRHUuI1qFrW_9bk5MM_FH_0cvUfK2yInPGOPg/s1600-h/volley2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiow0ZT7FHmQGxjhF_E-yzavT1CUtNSkjpuOx2FEa49tfLHoez73lD4s-MR51ItBE30wxhbrI4Z7w1whyPV3MFItdooGg3adqYE3vH1yYyRHUuI1qFrW_9bk5MM_FH_0cvUfK2yInPGOPg/s200/volley2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265958447114915954" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">RUN Tola.. RUN!!<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">So just before I went home, I bumped into this Gabonese guy whom I had seen in the Mumbai office. He works in KKD and has his wife and kid with him. He has invited me to come to meet his family on Sunday so I am looking forward to it. I pray my boss is not going to come up with some messed up job for me to do on Sunday o! Make una help me pray abeg!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">So many many things have happened to me since my last post. One of my blog readers Engr. Nemo was going to be moving to India for work. She arrived and since we got chatting, we realized that we both live on the same road in FESTAC town. My lil brother used to roll with her older brother back in the days and there was a time I went to borrow movies from her in her house. If you don’t believe that we live in a small world.. this is proof. I cant wait to return to Mumabi and meet her</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">And my word OBAMA won the elections. I am not one to meddle with American politics but this is history in my time. The first black man to rule America…. I am glad I witnessed it. Though I must say that there was no way the guy wasn’t going to win after all the numbers that turned out to vote for him His African supporters who were not eligible to vote must have done their respective voodoo in his favo.Poor senator Mccain didn’t stand a chance..hehehe.. just kidding.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">This is it my people. My blog is now up to date with the major events. I hope to catch up again very soon.. xoxo..</span><br /></div><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">Tolantino…</span>Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-3338280990624957112008-10-18T10:15:00.000-07:002008-10-18T10:21:47.197-07:00Picture This...I mostly get a lot of people asking me questions relating to my work which I find very difficult to answer. Its not that I don’t know how to answer these questions but I find it very difficult to put into words the descriptions that would befit the working environment in which I have found myself. <br /><br />Q: Tolantino, What do you do?<br />Ans: I am a Field Engineer..<br /><br />Q: For real.. where do you work?<br />Ans: I work on Oil Rigs <br /><br />Q: What do you do on the rig?<br />Ans: (I parade around making the damned place look pretty.. tchiew..)<br /><br /><br />Okay.. just kidding.. but seriously, I just cannot explain in sufficient words this beautiful but yet psychotic world of mine. I equally hate and love my job with a passion.<br /><br />Go ahead and picture this..<br /><br />I am sitting under the helideck of the drill ship at 5.30am in the morning. I am dead tired. I can’t even remember what today is or what yesterday was because I have been awake for the past 24hrs. I have been hauling stuff around the whole place for the past 3-4hrs. The job is still not yet done.. but right here.. under this helideck, I stare out into the deep blue waters of the bay of Bengal. In the not so far distance is another sister drill ship, the sister ship is flaring gas intermittently as dusk turns into dawn over the deep blue waters.. The sight is awesome.. the blend of the yellow flames merging with the setting of the sun to the east. I wish I could capture this moment and replay back to my momsie(mommy) and my pospise (daddy). Just right there infront of me is the sea level.. its so close, I could almost reach over with a bucket to get a full scoop of water ( you know Naija style) and if I am lucky, I may also fetch in one of the numerous fishes swimming around the ship. There are hundreds of them everywhere!!<br /><br /> The breeze is in my hair.. (I beg your pardon, the breeze is in my sweat soaked weave which has been stinking for the past week with sweat), the breeze is in my face.. I am at peace.. I am bone tired… I enjoy all this for 5 more minutes and then I drag my sore bones across the deck of the ship, over the catwalk bridge and straight to the drill floor. This is where my real objective is and not out there playing titanic in my imagination. Back to my reality, There is Oily mud allover the place. Oily mud is another ingredient that comes to drilling for Oil like butter goes with bread. The roustabouts (rig hands) are hauling metal and machinery all over the place. I negotiate my way precariously into the driller’s cabin where the driller is engrossed in manipulating the drill pipe into the hole to drill ahead further. I swear this driller guy is giving me the eye.. I see him staring at me so much.. and to give him credit.. the guy has a cute thing going on.. this is when his mouth is closed. The moment he opens his mouth.. chai.. I want to pass out from the crookedness of his dentition…(Sorry.. I can’t help it.. I have a fetish for teeth!!) <br /><br />Where did I stop off… Yah.. my job now is to calibrate some of our sensors and track the depth. I call up my unit from the driller’s cabin and my fellow crew member answers.. she is shouting over the line asking what took me so long? “We need to calibrate the sensors now!” I quickly give some instructions to the driller and the calibration is done. Now I have to track the depth. This is one very important part of our role.. I wait painstakingly as the drill pipe works its way slowly into the formation.. The geology people say the current formation is Shale.. hence the slow rate of penetration. I see the reference! There goes my depth! I drag my sore body up to our work unit.. there is more work to be done.. the folks sitting 800kms away in the clean comfort of their offices are asking why I did not cross my ‘I’s’ or dot my ‘T’s’ God knows I am about to kill someone.. I look at my fellow crew mate.. she is equally tired.. Tiredness is written allover our faces.. but we cant go to sleep.. we need to wait for the third guy to get out of bed to come and relieve us.. I try to look on the better side, this is a good day at work.. at least everything is going well.. the formation data is being monitored properly in real-time and there are no signal problems. It could have been worse..a whole lot worse. Things could have just stopped working.. NO DATA!! In my line of business.. NO DATA ACQUISITION means you may as well just jump into the sea and kill yourself before the whole world gets you. Everyone is going to be after your arse and to make matters worse.. the only people who can help you are the remaining two members of your crew who are probably as clueless as you are regarding a solution.. But what you will get is a lot of shit!! The clients on the rig is after your arse.. the boss in town is ringing your phone.. everyone is ringing you and the phone is about to explode.. you cannot concentrate.. you have to make a decision (in your sleepless delirious state).. ask the driller to stop drilling so that you at least don’t loose data while trying to get your act together.. Infact.. this scenario is too painful to describe.. I don’t want to invite karma into my life so I will halt any further descriptions.<br /><br /><br />But even after typing all of this, I still don’t feel as though I am doing justice to this description.. This is not the whole story.. Sometimes after a very long day or days.. I question myself, what am I doing here? Really? How did I find myself here? And most importantly, why am I still staying here? I could have easily packed my bags and called it a day a long time ago. I start to realize what a very tough individual I am for not giving up. If someone had showed me a video of the now me 18months ago, I would have laughed in their faces.. Suffering and smiling at work has really become me! Its totally awesome.. <br /><br />So finally, its time for me to go get some rest.. But I first stop in the galley where there is an abundance of food awaiting me.. No wonder they feed us well out here. The menu strongly contests with that of your average 4star hotel! Hehehe. I quickly eat up and take one last look into the deep blue.. with the breeze in my hair ;-) Now it’s all comes back to me.. the reason why I am here. The reason why I haven’t quit and the reason why I will not quit. It is very simple, yet so complicated.. a very few people have the guts to do what I do. To say its different is putting it mildly. If THIS does not break me.. I cannot imagine what else could! This whole experience in India! So, taking comfort in this realization, I slowly pry myself from staring into abyss and drag my fatigued bones into the upper bunk of my two-man room.. The tides have gone up in the past 48hrs and I didn’t even notice.. you can even feel the slight rocking motion of the drill ship.. This swaying motion is the last thing I remember as my bunk bed slowly rocked me into a deep, dream less sleep<br /><br />That which does not kill me, can only make me one helluva thick skinned survivor!<br /><br /><br /><br />PS: The job is finished! Yay.. Just waiting now for two days to get on a chopper back to land Then the long journey cross country back to Mumbai begins..Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8699944239635694211.post-11237924762565578662008-10-08T05:06:00.000-07:002008-10-08T05:14:19.596-07:00An Indian RevelationI am back on the rigs. Discoverer 534. Remember that ‘posh’ rig I was on around June where I had my own room with cable TV and wireless internet access? Yahh.. that’s the one I’m talking about. I was really happy to hear I would be coming back here to work so I packed enough stuff to last 40days on the rig.. hehehe. That’s how much I love this rig. I would rather be here 40days than 2 days in Mumbai.. hehehe. I am also working with another girl and my guy Hash.. Lets call the girl Iti. She and Hash are both Indians and I really enjoy working with these guys. Firstly, Hash and I started with the company round about the same time and Iti must have started about 4mths before us. The ‘seniority’ dates are not that much so we are all still on a learning curve together. This time around Iti and I are both sharing a room.<br /><br />Back to the gist of this post. I had the most interesting conversation with Iti a few minutes ago. This conversation as well as my meeting with some other Indians in Mumbai whom are professionals and don’t seem to be on a power trip like the people I was working with in my earlier experiences has really started to change my views about this country of peoples as well as the working dynamics. <br /><br />Since Iti was also in the same position as myself only a couple of months ago, I started to share with her my previous working experiences here in India with engineers who were more senior than me. Especially working with female engineers and the way they seemed to put me down and push me around whenever we were on jobs. Iti explained to me that she also went through similar experiences when she first joined the company and though she was surprised, she didn’t find it as shocking as I did. Granted.. but why did Iti put up with this treatment and why did she not put up a fight like I always seemed to do??<br /><br />Well, according to Iti, here in India while at university, a preconceived notion exists where students who are more senior believe it is their right to ‘Rag’ the less senior students. It is very common to find this in Indian universities and everyone seems to think this is acceptable. After a year or so, the less junior student becomes accepted by the senior ones but still, there is still that attitude that the less junior individual can be spoken to as they deem fit without any consequences. But why has this carried on to the work place I asked? Iti explained to me that she thinks this attitude is only prevalent within our company as she has friends who work in other companies and everyone else seems to be pretty professional and don’t ill treat new employees or ‘Rag’ them around.<br /><br />We then went on to discuss why this is very common within our own work place only. The conclusion was that since our job is not very ‘white’ collar, we go around in uniforms(coveralls), share the same room and bathroom with your work mates, we are together mostly 24hrs a day for days on end in the middle of nowhere, then this juvenile attitude starts to creep in. The need for hierarchy starts to creep in Eg. You go on a job. You have a cell manager who is the first hand. This person is usually the most senior and has the most responsibility and experience. You have the second hand. This person also has some work experience and is quite competent. Lastly you have the Third hand. The third had is usually the least senior engineer on the job and is usually still a trainee with very little experience. This is very much like the setting which puts emphasis on seniority and hence, people easily slip into the habit of giving the trainee a tough time. Now, I could understand this explanation from Iti’s point of view as she did take her time to discuss with me these issues but this does not make it right in anyway, shape or from. <br /><br />I am happy that I am starting to get more experience. I am very confident running a job as a second hand already and I am very happy working with Iti and Hash. These guys are really different from the other experiences which I have had. But then again, I guess the fact that we are much more level in terms of experiences kinds of brings us closer and does not foster any form of big headedness. That said, not everyone in India is out to get me!! I was really impressed with Iti’s way of thinking. She wants to experience working in other places with engineers from different backgrounds, culture and creed. She does not want to remain in India where there is a chance of slipping in and following the general norm. I have a lot of respect for this girl and I am wishing her the best.<br /><br />So back to me..me.. me..<br /><br />I am fine. I have been partying allover the place in Mumbai and there are more international staff joining the company. I have a new flat mate. She is French-Italian. My old flat mate, Angel got transferred back to Indonesia so I have been alone in the apartment for sometime now. There was a festival a few days before I came to the rig and true to Indian form; we had a day off work. I took all the newbies for a day out in Mumbai. We went on the very crowded Indian trains and then took a ferry to the Elephanta caves. From there I took them to some nice Deli place. The food was totally awesome!! I have been partying, partying, partying!! I am glad I got sent to the rig. I have been spending too much money on Sunday morning brunches and alcohol in 5 star hotels!! This is why being in town is not good for me at all. I spend too much, drink too much and eat too much. Talk about an idle mind!!<br /><br />Can you guys imagine I’ve been in Mumbai 1yr already!! OMG!! I cannot believe it myself. I remember stepping off the plane at Chatrapatti Shrivaji International Airport a year ago and feeling scared to the bones. I am definitely not the same girl who stepped off that plane. I have seen things and been to places people only read of and I have felt emotions which people do not wish on their enemies. I have really survived! I am very grateful for this experience and for the chance of meeting people whom will forever leave an impression on me both positively and negatively. <br /><br />So how do I celebrate my first year anniversary in India? I will go out and gaze into the ocean. Watch the beautiful sun setting into the Bay of Bengal!! I saw it yesterday and it was totally awesome!! This time I will take pictures.Tolantinohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05263093217064415270noreply@blogger.com9