God Bless Nigeria - Part One

I have heard leaders of the United States of America say this phrase ever so often, "God Bless America", it’s not often that I hear leaders of our nation, Nigeria say the same.  In America, it’s almost a cliche, but not the same with us here in Nigeria.  

A very good friend, Kemi called me the other day and insisted she had to come see me to discuss something important. It happened to be one of those busy times in the life of a #NewsMan, and saying yes immediately was really not an option, but her persistence was such that my hands were forced and I obliged.

We had a breakfast meeting and the story of Kemi's eating habit would be told one day *big smile*, but I am thrilled we had this meeting and the information shared truly delighted my heart, or should I say, was amazingly heartwarming!

Kemi weaved a short tale about a group of people who come together on Sundays to ask God to Bless Nigeria.  They do not do this by just praying and repeating a pointless mantra but they practically become the blessing to Nigeria that a lot of our leaders have failed to be.

This group of people gets to the meeting point as early as 6.30am and some from about 7am on Sunday mornings.  There are Medical Doctors, Nurses, Caterers, Cooks, Drivers, Psychologists, Barbers, Hairdressers, Cleaners, who come in bright and early, artisans and professionals dressed in casual outfits and ready to be the blessing to Nigeria that some of us only dream about and sometimes pray God will send to this nation.

Kemi warned me to be dressed casually, so I put on my blue trainers, my Jeans and a polo shirt, short-sleeve and ready to blend in.  She was kind enough to drive all the way from Victoria Island to Opebi, just to pick me up at home, and then drive down to the meeting point just on the Oshodi-Apapa Expressway, where I am meant to join the people who have chosen to dedicate their Sunday morning to answer the prayer, "God Bless Nigeria".

We arrived at the meeting point at about 8am, I felt like we were late because of my morning coffee, it takes almost 5 minutes to warm my semi-skimmed milk without cooking it, so I can enjoy a coffee latte that has a drop of honey and it’s the heavenly taste that makes my morning exciting. Ignore me on this one, I am silly like that... *laughing*. It’s one of those pleasures of life formed out of habit.

I was introduced to a lady called Ehi, she coordinates the multi-media side of things here, Ehi welcomed me with a big, bright smiles and a warm handshake. Ehi asked me to wait a minute and she called a "well-rounded" gentleman, his name is Nonso, to join us. Nonso was introduced as one of those who go out on the field.

OK, these people who have opted to be blessing to Nigeria, by the grace of God, go out on Sunday morning looking for Nigerians that need a blessing, that need a helping hand, that need support, that want their lives changed, but do not have a clue of where to start from. 

I left the premises with Nonso and we headed for Oke-Afa.  Nonso told me tales of prostitutes that have been invited and taken care of, counseled, supported, given opportunity to change their life choices and in essence, change their lives.  

Nonso talked about drug addicts who have lost hope and are just resigned to beg or steal to feed their bad habits, but God, in blessing Nigeria through these professionals and artisans who are trusting God to make them the blessing Nigeria needs, these addicts have been washed, cleaned, fed, then taken into a place of refuge and treated by doctors that have weaned them off their addictions.  These people have come off drugs and are now gainfully employed or been given a chance to be one of the few people now enjoying grants provided to start small businesses.

I listened and was there wondering where all these Nigerians who choose to be a blessing to the nation came from. Anyway, it did not take long, we were at Oke-Afa, and Nonso parked his car.  Once out of the car, I looked up and it looked like a shanty town built on a refuse dump. It simply reminded me of BBC's documentary series "Welcome To Lagos" which I watched and recorded in London a while ago.

The stench was overwhelming when you are not used to it. Nonso warned me to keep my eyes glued to where I was heading to avoid stepping on waste, both human's and dog's.  A couple of hundred yards and we were in the thick of it, as in the smell of human waste, refuse dump fused together with cigarette and marijuana.

There were smelly young and middle-aged men who looked like they have not seen water for ages because the only liquid they had around happened to be Gin, Stout, Gulder, Ogogoro, Schnapps and other alcoholic beverages, emphasis on the very cheap and strong ones. Virtually everyone of them had marijuana in their hands, as they say, how do you like it, thin, slim and cheap or thick, fat and "orobo", almost the size of "igbo" you will see in the hand of Fela Anikulapo-Kuti of blessed memory.

A small number were hiding their "igbo" (marijuana) from Nonso, saying, "good morning pastor, how now, I go come church today ooo, I jus wan finish sumtin wey I dey do now now".  Nonso moved close to each one, shook hands and asked them why they were still smoking hemp? "You know you have given your life to Christ and you are now Gideon's Army, you should be here winning souls and encouraging others to come to church" Nonso chided.

Almost all the time, he got a wry smile and a mumbled response that sounded like an apology of some sort.  Nonso told me these people needed help, they need re-housing, as long as they are left with no choice but to come back to this same environment, they will be just like pigs, washed, groomed and dressed up, then thrown back into the dirty sty and mud, it will roll in it again and again.

I sat with quite a few of them until I was getting a bit heady from inhaling the strong smell of marijuana being blown in my face. I listened to their stories and encouraged them to be open and tell me all.  While some are desperate to kick the habit, some have given up hope and just believe they will live the rest of their lives like this.

"Sebi, you too be pastor, abi, look all dis God tin no dey sell again, if you wan helep me, give me money make I start business or give me job wey dey pay well well." One of them shouted at me. There were stories that could easily become epic films and will sell out on the bookshelves worldwide.  I cannot sum it up in one go.

After about 2hours of walking around, talking, listening watching Nonso persuade, encourage, negotiate and reason with even some that were unreasonable, we had to leave. A 16 Seater bus was waiting, next to Nonso's car and it was packed full with a few men, but more of women and young children.  Obviously the young men don't mind their partners and wives going to God Bless Nigeria, but they were way too busy smoking hemp and drinking themselves into a stupor.

I have intentionally opted to keep the Church part out of the God Bless Nigeria Church.  It is a church and place of worship that is an initiative of Pastor Tony Rapu's ministry. When Nonso and I got back to the church the place was buzzing, there were children, women, including pregnant ones, there were men, young and old all milling around, some seated in the various classes, some in the clinic to receive treatment or run tests, other that were having a haircut and women having their hair washed and set for them without paying a kobo.

I saw and listened to a man who said he has just come out of prison and he did not want to do anymore what he did that led him to prison. So, all he wants is God, and he has been told God is here at God Bless Nigeria, so he came to meet God and see his life changed for good.  A member of the Gideon's Army took him around to get him washed, fed, given fresh clothes and they were looking into finding a home for him.

The stories are incredible and compelling, I waited to be part of the service after a short chat with the Pastor in Charge for this Sunday.  She was a pretty and soft-spoken lady called Ronke Akinnola.  The worship session was almost like watching a concert with Obesere, Ayuba, Wasiu and throw in Iyanya, P-Square and Tuface all worshipping God. It was an awesome praise and worship experience.  

Watching some of these people dance reminded me of what King David of Israel must have looked like in 2 Samuel 6:14-23.  They danced with "reckless abandon" and unlike some other churches, there were no "forming" or pretentions.

I can write a book about God Bless Nigeria, from just one experience, and I probably will do just that in due course.  But today Part One in the God Bless Nigeria series has just been completed.

I will end this with what a wise man of God told me during our last conversation in my office, Bishop Matthew Kukah, told me about his experience in America.  He was offered a very juicy position with very fantastic financial package and perks, but he turned it down.  His reason was that he will spend his entire strength, might and abilities in America to have minimum impact, but just a sizable amount of his strength, might and abilities spent on something positive in Nigeria will generate impact that will surely warm the hearts of men and God in Nigeria.  That just reminded me my reason for being back home in Nigeria and my reason for being "raison d'etre'.

If you have doubts about the work of God Bless Nigeria Church as I explained above, watch what they recorded in the story of Fatima, whose life was transformed - 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VHrqQnV2v88&feature=player_embedded

Australian Prime Minister Does It Again

Its a cold, but bright sunny morning in London today. The weather folks seem to be getting it wrong as they said it might snow by Tuesday but no snow till now and its Thursday. I got another weather report on BBC this morning saying it might snow by weekend, well, I will be back in sunny and hot Nigeria, where the weather folks only need to say "its another hot day", except when it rains, which they hardly ever predict. 

If weather folks don't tell you it will rain, if it does, they are not to be held responsible, if it does not rain, they smile and say, "well we knew it will not, so we did not bother to tell you the obvious". As they say in that part of the world, "aah Naija... too much wisdom abi... lol"

Meanwhile, I got this email this morning and don't know how true it is, but found it quite interesting for want of a better description. I know how extremely politically correct United Kingdom has become. I also know that part of the incredible drive for tolerance within communities is down to some amount of ridiculous political correctness.

I am from a very mixed religious background as my late grandmother, who I adore and still miss a lot happen to be moslem. My late grandma and grandpa had a mosque behind their home and grandpa was pretty much incharge of the mosque as a teacher and Alfa. I learnt quite a bit from them in their days, whenever we spend holiday with them in Oshodi, Lagos, Nigeria.

My parents can not be described as nominal christians because they were often described as strong christians. My Dad in his days, was a well known Parishioner in the Anglican Church, his immediate younger brother, Bishop of the Anglican Church in Nigeria and another one of the brothers is now a retired Vicar of the Anglican Communion in Nigeria.

So, I grew up in a mixed environment where I know clearly what my parents' belief was and they taught us well, yet, they had no worries about sending us on holiday to grandma and grandpa, especially during moslem festivals. They knew I sat in the mosque with my grandpa and learnt how to pray and studied a bit of the Qu'ran with him.

Well, having set the background to the story below, comments and opinions will surely be welcomed. Please note that I did not verify the source of the message below, as it came from a friend and I am just sharing on this platform. I am sure someone will be intelligent and resourceful enough to verify the authenticity and comment below that its true or not. So, happy reading and looking forward to comments:

Prime Minister Julia Gillard - Australia 

Muslims who want to live under Islamic Sharia law were told on Wednesday to get out of Australia, as the government targeted radicals in a bid to head off potential terror attacks. 

Separately, Gillard angered some Australian Muslims on Wednesday by saying she supported spy agencies monitoring the nation's mosques. Quote: 'IMMIGRANTS, NOT AUSTRALIANS, MUST ADAPT... Take It Or Leave It. I am tired of this nation worrying about whether we are offending some individual or their culture. Since the terrorist attacks on Bali , we have experienced a surge in patriotism by the majority of Australians.' 

'This culture has been developed over two centuries of struggles, trials and victories by millions of men and women who have sought freedom.' 

'We speak mainly ENGLISH, not Spanish, Lebanese, Arabic, Chinese, Japanese, Russian, or any other language. Therefore, if you wish to become part of our society, learn the language!' 

'Most Australians believe in God. This is not some Christian, right wing, political push, but a fact, because Christian men and women, on Christian principles, founded this nation, and this is clearly documented. It is certainly appropriate to display it on the walls of our schools. If God offends you, then I suggest you consider another part of the world as your new home, because God is part of our culture.' 

'We will accept your beliefs, and will not question why. All we ask is that you accept ours, and live in harmony and peaceful enjoyment with us.' 

'This is OUR COUNTRY, OUR LAND, and OUR LIFESTYLE, and we will allow you every opportunity to enjoy all this. But once you are done complaining, whining, and griping about Our Flag, Our Pledge, Our Christian beliefs, or Our Way of Life, I highly encourage you take advantage of one other great Australian freedom, 'THE RIGHT TO LEAVE'.' 

'If you aren't happy here then LEAVE. We didn't force you to come here. You asked to be here. So accept the country YOU accepted.' 

NOTE: IF we circulate this amongst ourselves in UK, Canada & USA, WE will find the courage to start speaking and voicing the same truths. 

If you agree please SEND THIS ON and ON, to as many people as you know...

David Cameron I know you can voice it out! Make a stand for a New Great Britain That is Great and Free Because Jesus Our Lord Has set us Free Indeed!Emmanuel=God with us

Artistes United Dinner in Support of President Goodluck Jonathan

My sunday is truly special and it is supposed to be my day of rest, physically and spiritually.  As I am now based in Lagos working with Channels Television as the General Manager in charge of News, Programmes and Broadcast Operations, I am consistently finding it difficult to stay away from the studio after my sunday service.


I have been going to church, and finding myself ending up in the office because of one thing or the other.  This will not be a good pattern to develop because day of rest should be respected, especially as I end up spending up to 12 hours at work every day of the week.


This last sunday was no exception as I was told that Professor Pat Utomi was the guest on Rubbing Minds, our Youth oriented programme that is presented by Shade Ladipo and and Chude Jideonwo, with Adebola Williams and co as Producers.  There was no way I could have ignored someone of the calibre of Pat Utomi in my station without dropping by to say hello and pump some flesh... :-)


However, to make things more complicated, my very good friend, the one and only Elegant Stallion of Africa, Onyeka Onwenu asked me to please attend the Neighbour 2 Neighbour sponsored Artistes United, A Dinner In Support of President Goodluck Jonathan on a sunday night.  I had to chew on this and said a tentative yes.  I waited till 8pm to call Mandi who was working on this event with Onyeka.  I do not like to be late for events, but this one, I was not very keen on, and the only reason I was attending was because the invitation came from Onyeka.


When I called Mandi and was informed Mr. President was not there yet, but was expected to be late anyway, I had to get out of my pyjamas to take a shower, change and head to Victoria Island for the event, hoping to see the man GEJ in his element, especially as he is said to be comfortable in the company of Comedians, Musicians and Entertainers, to the point where the major interview granted by His Excellency was conducted by our own very famous and funny Musician, D'Banj.


I arrived to find the hall 70% full and people still milling around outside in the expectation that they will all rush in when the convoy of His Excellency arrives.


Alibaba opened the event as the Master of Ceremony and then had these two guys, comedians, come on stage afterwards.  Sadly I forgot the name of the one Alibaba called the insane comedian, but without a shadow of doubt the guy was insanely funny.  He could belt out a good tune and he could murder any song. He is also capable of making a guy like me who wants to not be seen laughing out loud in an environment like this laugh so much, I had a few drops of tears... lol...


Anyway, my dear friend Onyeka Onwenu came on to give a very powerful opening speech, which was convincing and compelling.  She should have been appointed as the Principal Advocate and Director General for GEJ Campaign.  She made it succinctly clear that Goodluck Jonathan is the best President Nigerians can have amongst the lot contesting now, because he has been the friend of the Entertainment industry from when he was the Governor of Bayelsa state.  


Obviously this friendship has continued as our dear President opted to spend time with D'Banj, albeit granting an interview, while other candidates were busy presenting their manifesto to Nigerians on the Live Presidential Debate broadcast on NN24.


The disappointment defied words for description as I witnessed pockets of musicians drifting away quietly as time passed by.  The reason I could not make a quick exit was because of Dudu, the legend of Nigerian Music Video, Tunde Alabi Hundeyin.  My brother and former boss from OGTV was in his element as he provided further entertainment for me, with his witty remarks and comments about all the weird and wonderful characters in the industry.  Some of them were dressed in outfits that would make you wonder why they had anything on at all.


When I remembered I had an 8am meeting with the Google Business Development Manager on Monday morning, I had to quickly call my driver and make a graceful exit.


I heard from the grapevine that Mr. President might have wanted to attend, but could not tear himself away from the fence-mending job he was doing.  He was most likely working on the relationship management and finding solution to the Lagos/Ogun States palaver.  I read in the papers this morning that GEJ had to spend a lot of time untangling the messy quagmire in Ogun State as well as all the political shenanigan going on with the presence of Bode George back in the fray in Lagos.  These are chinese whispers that were never confirmed or denied, but published by some newspapers.


The long and short of this, speaking in colloquial language, is that, the best friends of GEJ were not dancing and singing for him last night.  They did not seem too impressed.  Though there was consistent denial that any money had been shared or given by anyone to make the night happen. Hmmm... the truth will always come out at some point.... so watch this space... when it does, we will all know... :-)


The only sad thing was that I did not get much for my Sunday evening spent outside the comfort of my hotel room.  I probably would have achieved more by staying indoors and do the usual, sort out my paperwork for Monday and watch some boring television... lol... Hey, I should not be such an ingrate, I did get loads of laugh, thank you Alibaba, thank you my big brother Tunde Alabi-Hundeyin, thank you the "insane comedian" who made me laugh a lot and thank you Elegant Stallion, Onyeka Onwenu, I will hope you contest and win your local government so that you can show our people what it means to lead from the front.

Please don't tell kids nothing...

I often joke about the fact that on the inside, I am a Peter Pan, I never grew beyond 6-8years old, but in reality, I am over 21... tee hee hee... not letting the cat out of the bag yet.

I have come to the realisation that age is nothing but a number and it really doesn’t matter that much, except to people who are insecure enough to feel you owe them something because, by accident of nature, they happen to be born before you...

OK, I have digressed from the outset, so I had better get on to the straight and narrow, eyes on the ball now, focus on the subject matter without deviation.

I took my kids to school the other day and I remember meeting one of the mums at one of the school events.  We got into conversation about people not acting their age and how boys will always be boys and stuffs like that.  This lady lectured me on how important it is to be matured and sensible and why girls will find it difficult to cope with boys their age or younger.

As the conversation drifted, I asked her if she has ever dated someone younger or her age, she said she had not and that, they are usually too childish to cope with her level of maturity.  I took a deep breath and smiled.  She is Nigerian and the husband/partner is not.

I could be rather mischievous at times and this was one of those days that I wanted to play out my little mischievous boyish nuances.  I asked her when her birthday would be and she showed that she is truly Nigerian by answering a question with a question... tee hee hee... “why did you ask?” was her response.

I told her I was just curious, but she should not bother, so I excused myself, walked away for a few seconds, then started playing with her son.  I did a little “rough play” of push, pull, then carry and run.  He got into a state as boys do and wanted more, so I stopped and said I will not continue unless he told me when is mummy’s birthday.

I thought, that was “wicked” as she gave an evil grin to the boy, and said “don’t you dare”.  Well, boys will always be boys and kids don’t have the same matured attitude of holding back information when you ask them something they know...tee hee hee...

He spilled the bin, let the cat out of the bag, “mummy’s birthday is October 2nd and she will be 43”, I carried him and ran away, laughing all the way... and when we came back, he reminded mummy that she is 4 years older than daddy and that when they argue she often tell daddy she is not his mate and that he is too childish.

Now that is below the belt, that was not information meant for my ears and that little boy should not have said that in public.  I did not know how to respond to that.  If I carried him and ran again, that will be a terrible mistake and completely unacceptable even for a man who is just about 8years old on the inside and just a little over 21 years of age... tee hee hee... its not funny actually...

I could not look at this lady for a few seconds, because I dreaded her reaction and wondered how she will respond to that one.  She kept her cool, put on a brave face, gave another evil grin to this little boy, snapped her finger, telling him “when we get home, we will have this conversation again!!!”   I felt sorry for my little friend, because, I guessed he will surely not get away with that answer to a question never asked.

I remember one of my kids asking me how old I was and my spontaneous response was that I was as old as I felt that morning.  I tickled her to submission, refused to stop until she stopped asking the question.  Then I told her I feel like a 6 year old boy. “Come on Daddy” was all she could say after making her laugh so much from the tickling.

I have learnt a long time ago that whatever you do not want your child to do or say in public, do not do or say it even in the most private area of your house when the child is nearby.  If you insult your husband, wife or spouse at home, your kid will tell the world at one of the most embarrassing moments and usually unexpected time.

I witnessed an incident this morning that inspired this blog.  It was amusing, though not very funny, as a lady had two kids to take to school.  I was coming behind her when the station staff said she cannot go in unless she pays for a ticket for her son that is about 9 years old.  I jumped in to support her protest and told the guy, that no one is aware that you should pay for travelcard for a 9 year old.

This guy insisted that was what the letter of the law said and the lady will need to make the payment to get a chance of taking the next train.  She was not a happy bunny as she fished for some coins in her purse.  She brought out a note, about to pay and guess what, the younger sister told the cashier, without being asked or prompted, “I am 6 years old, would mummy need to pay for me too”.  The guy smiled and said, “yes, now that I know, she will surely have to buy a ticket for you too my dear”.

If looks could kill, that sweet and innocent girl, would have died instantly.  I wanted to roar with laughter, but could not, as I wonder, why on earth did she say that.  I got hot under the collar as I no longer found it funny and was just bewildered why kids would not keep quiet at the appropriate time.  Instead, they seem to exercise the right to speak even when no one had asked them any question.

I thought about my own growing up years and what would have been the result of that from my or other parents.  I knew instantly that it would have resulted in slaps and pinch and knock on the head to warn you not to open your mouth when you are not being spoken to or  asked question.

It takes a man or woman of a certain generation and cultural background to remember those knocks on the head that can be so painful and evil to the point where your eyes will start dripping with involuntary water from the after effect of that knock... Oh my gosh, tears will well up and in one blinking moment, it will drop like torrents of rain... tee hee hee... its actually not funny at all... that will be described as child abuse these days...

Now I have come full circle and my thought is that kids these days need to learn to “shush” as its considered rude these days to tell children to “shut up”.  If you don’t want to train your child in this permissive side of the world to go around telling people to “shut up”, then you will chose not to use those words.

Swearing and cursing is an absolute no, no... Any parent with some integrity, class and self-respect will definitely be embarrassed to hear their child say rude things to other kids in public.  I don’t know a lot of people that will be smiling when their 7 or 8 or 9year old, in public glare, speak out loud and say “look at that stupid man he is going to bump into some with the way he is walking”.  But guess what, parents call other drivers “stupid”, “idiot”, b**ch and other such rude words when driving with kids in the car.

If you don’t want your child to broadcast in public that your spouse is a lazy man that is no good, or that your woman is stupid woman, then do not ever say thing like that in their vicinity or hearing distance.

One must acknowledge that there are situations where one can not win with kids.  What do you say to the kids that tell the ticket cashier “I am 6 years old, will mummy need to pay for me too?”  Do you tell that child never to speak the truth or never to let people know her real age?

I love kids, they are so refreshing and sweet and innocent and so sincere in the way they communicate, they never seem capable of pulling punches.  As a parting short, I was in a cab with my daughter the other day, she had just finished Judo class and she sat in the back, while I was in the front seat.

She asked me a simple and innocent question, “Daddy what will happen to anyone that eat a lot of junk food and never ever find time to exercise?”

I nearly died, because the cab driver happened to be an Asian guy that is not just obviously overweight, he must be clinically obese, he also had leftover of his KFC snacks beside him.  How would you respond... lol....

PS. She told me later at home that the Judo Instructor told them to eat just a little junk food and exercise a lot.  She wanted to know what I think because I jog regularly and I often tell them I don't like junk food, so MacDonalds is a treat, not a regular meal.... lol...

Breast feeding on Central Line

I was on Central Line today on my way back home from church. I saw a cute little boy, chubby cheeks without being fat, angelic blues eyes with a good head of blonde hair, and I reckon he should be about 2 years old.


This little cherub has one heart-melting smile that will make you just want to hug and cuddle him. I could not stop smiling as this cute little thing gave me a big smile that made the entire coach glow with warmth. I looked around me and I could sense a warm feeling as everyone seemed to be smiling just because of this sweet charmer.

Well, the mum had him on her lap and she smiled too. She is obviously beautiful, seemingly curvy and shapely, wearing a nice dress, low cut showing some cleavage and the summation is that this beautiful and well dressed woman has a cute son on her lap. Listening to a few things she said to the boy in English, I reckon she must be Eastern European.

I sat directly opposite this lady and the son and without much ado, I was going to just bring out my notebook and bible as there were points I was pondering about after service and wanted to check before it all fades away as is usually the case when you don’t write down theological issues you have reason to doubt or check it instantly.

The little boy’s smile evolved into making faces at me and the 6year old boy in me took control and I started making faces at him too. First he giggled, and then he went into full blown hearty laughter that got the attention of everyone on the train. Now I was looking like the silly old man as he continued to laugh at every expression on my face, then I thought, OK, this has to stop now, else I may seem like I am the one enjoying the attention.

Like most boys his age, attention span is short, so without any notice to what he was going to do next, he dipped his hand into his mother’s dress at the top, and right “in my face” brought out her breast, snuggled up and was helping himself to some breast milk.

If I was not a black dude, I would have gone completely red, but guess what, my cheeks became hot and my eyes nearly popped out. The mother seemed completely unperturbed and she even made it easier for him, undid a button and further exposed herself in public glare without as much as making an attempt to cover up a bit.

Suddenly, I was extremely self conscious as this woman is plonked right in front of me and did not seem bothered that she has a big boob fully exposed and she is right in front of me and a sizable number of guys and ladies on the train on a busy Sunday afternoon.
Everyone else seems to have someone to look at or talk to or another direction to face except me. I could not look right or left without being aware that I am making strong effort not to stare. I wanted to show I am not embarrassed for some weird reason, but I was and could not hide it. Gosh this is not good, on a Sunday afternoon, just after church...

I felt like a pervert, because, in my head, I tried to blank it all out, then my mind started playing tricks on me, working out whether she was about 34DD or larger, Oh my gosh, please stop, don’t think, don’t look, don’t close your eyes, because then the image becomes more vivid, what do I do?

If I had gotten up and moved to another seat, I will look like a really bad guy that does not like women breastfeeding kids, seating still was difficult. When I opened my bible, it seems the only word printed was boobs, boobies and breasts because that was the image my head conjured. Oh Father forgive me, for my mortal frailties... (Amen)
OK, I decided to put the bible aside and start writing my thoughts to focus my mind on something. Then my little friend stopped suddenly and said “y’ello” to me as if to mock me, I managed a brave “hi”, the mum smiled, the boy laughed out loud, the whole coach looked again and this woman’s breast was still in public glare and the boy went straight back to it again.
I concluded, there should be a law that prevents this from happening on the train. No woman should be allowed to display herself like this while on the train on a Sunday afternoon, when folks like me are coming back from church. It’s totally out of order and completely unacceptable.
To be serious now, there is no reason for her not to have a shawl or something to cover herself while the son is getting fed. I have nothing against breast feeding, infact, I think its fantastic for a mother to breastfeed rather than offer the kid crisps and chocolates. But on the other hand, I did not think its right to do it the way she has opted to display herself in public.
Come to think about it, at what age should a mother stop breastfeeding anyway. I am not sure, but I would think a child should not be breastfed once they are two years old or they have teeth and can eat solids.
While all this thoughts were going on in my head, the lady patted the little boy on the head, moved him away, cupped the breast in her hand and put it back where it belongs. She smartened up quickly and at Liverpool Street, up and on her way out, she gave me a big smile, said bye, and asked the son, “will you say bye to OUR friend?” That I thought was cheeky, my cute little friend said bye and I gave him a quick hi-five.
The middle aged white guy seating next to me with his girlfriend gave me a look and went “phew” then said “you did not look comfortable there at all”. I gave a wry smile and said, absolutely not, were you? He said even his girlfriend thought that was unnecessary especially as the boy was not a baby as such.
Now the questions that continue to plague my mind include, why would a woman choose to expose herself like that in public, why breastfeed a 2 years old on the train, why make a show of it and seem unconcerned, what level of loneliness or insecurity will make a woman continue to breastfeed a child even when it’s obvious the child is at an age he/she does not need to be breastfed anymore?

I will be asking my female friends what they make of this and will be good to know the thoughts of women about this. In the interim, I may have to write to Central Line Train operators (TfL) to ask if that kind of attitude that embarrasses their customers should be allowed on their trains. It will surely be interesting to hear what Transport for London (TfL) spin-doctors (Customer Services) will say.

Is it not you people in London? :-)

I was at an event recently where I sat beside the Governor of one of the states in the East of Nigeria.  Someone talked about the fact that Nigerians in Diaspora constitute a huge force and could influence the future of Nigeria come 2011 election.  The governor laughed out loud and said, “Mr. Kay that is a dream that we will not be actualised with this generation”. 

I thought that was unfair and asked him why he made that statement, he responded in a very firm tone with a rhetorical statement “Is it not you people in London, can you raise £1000 today in London, look Mr. Kay, start calling people you have their numbers and tell them you want to raise £1000 for politics, most of them will stop taking your calls or tell you long stories about bills and tax”.

I was tempted to put my mobile on speaker phone and make a few calls to secure commitment from people that I want to raise £1000 as His Excellency the Governor said, but I allowed common sense to prevail and not react immediately.  I told him, he was underestimating Nigerians in Diaspora and that his perspective on how Nigerians abroad behave and respond is based on the fact that a lot of people at home in Nigeria have a warped image of how easy it is to make money here in the UK and then expect us to spend lavishly.

But I knew in my heart that I was making excuses for a lot of brothers and sisters in diaspora.  Yes we have challenges living abroad, yes the tax system here in the UK does not challenge Nigerians alone, but my friends who are consultants and executives also complain about the fact that you give almost half of your salary to government as tax once you go over a threshold.  When my accountant does my tax return, I always wish I do not have to pay so much in tax, but I look around me and the necessities of life that the tax has contributed to making happen.

Let me not digress because I was unhappy with the Governors dismissal of Nigerians in Diaspora as people with limited or no passion for Nigeria beyond just complaining, whinging and groaning about thieving politicians who are not doing much to improve the lots of the country.  But then, I also know that if you fail to put your money where your mouth is, you might as well be described as one speaking through the area of the body that never see sunshine, if you catch my drift.

This incident is less than a week old and an opportunity presented itself last night as I got a call that a Nigerian who has passion for politics in the UK is on the verge of being elected as Mayor of Southwark and will be sworn in this week.  I was being myself when I made a few calls to spread the news that our friend and brother will become the first Nigerian Mayor in a Borough that is known to have a large population of Nigerians.

I made a couple of calls and asked that those who are living and running businesses in Southwark should join hands with me to put some money together for us to organise something for our Brother/Friend, to celebrate him, showing our appreciation of his tenacity and diligence.  I am not asking that we give the Mayor money, the option was to arrange an event where he will be Guess of Honor and we all show support and encouragement.

Let me make a point clear here, I do not live in Southwark, I do not run business there, I have never gained anything in that borough or needed any assistance from the council, so definitely my intention, to the best of my knowledge is sincere and honourable and designed to show that our people do understand the power of unity in achieving purpose and influence.

Without going into a long story, the people I called said yes, its a sure thing for them, but we should get a handful of others so that the fund raised will be considerable and achieve something more worthwhile.  Well, they made some calls and both of them came back this morning to complain about how our people never seem to see beyond their noses and yet expect to be people of influence.

No matter how many hours and days you spend in church and other religious environment, God will not come down to make you a person of influence and secure respectability for you.  My Dad in his days used to talk about the fact that your heart and wealth are intertwined.  If all you seek is money, you may never really be truly rich because money was never designed to be the end, rather, it is means to an end.

The lesson in this whole experience is that a random and unintended sample of people proved His Excellency the Governor right.  I wonder if I say that I am interested in becoming chairman of a local government in Nigeria, state governor or senator, I guess the people that will be asked to support my ambition will be saying the same old thing that has kept a lot of our people outside the sphere of influence they would love to operate... “What will he do for me when he gets in there” or “why should I spend my money to support him?”

I have a penchant for not dwelling on a problem, I like to focus on solution, both at work and outside work environment, my passion is to be solution-driven in all my dealings.  So what do we do about this and how do we see a solution implemented?  I am sure a sizable number of people that would read this blog will fall into category of those that would do nothing when they are asked to put money into anything, apart from big owambe parties that enables them to show off the wealth they acquired from flashing credit cards that they are struggling to pay back.

OK Mr Kay, focus on solution now... J fine, I will, so here we go... a challenge to my facebook friends, show your colour and show your hands.  I would like to collect a list of names of people that are happy to put their money where their mouth is, so step one, put a note below stating you will be happy to put your money where your mouth is in terms of influencing change in Nigeria. Step two, send your contact details to my inbox and I will discuss a project that I believe can influence or impact change in Nigeria. Step three, be ready to make your money work for you and secure that which you will not get unless you put something into it – as you know, where you invest nothing, you end up getting nothing, unless of course you are a thief, rogue and criminal J

Come to think of it, we talk about what is wrong with Nigeria so regularly and expect change, some people even go to church and pray for change, their Pastors and church leaders speak in tongues and others have their Alfas and Juju men chant to the oracles they believe in so that miracles or magic will happen.

There is no magic or miracle that will change Nigerian situation, we have to be the change we are praying and hoping for.  We have to be able to put our time, our money, and our other resources on the table to enable positive things happen to our beloved country.

I am waiting to see the handwritings on my wall, I will not hold my breath in the hope that 100 will be inspired, rather I will hope that I have stirred something that could lead to something which can then lead to something... if you catch my drift or follow my roundabout way of saying what you already know... tee hee hee...

Anyway, this is no laughing matter, show your hand so I know who are the Nigerians inspired or aspiring to become people of influence in the shaping of the future of our nation.

I am in search of "DILIGENT FRIENDS"

I was a bit of a rascal when I was in Federal Government College, Kano and the Principal of the school, described me as virus that spreads and cause all kinds of problems, so he told me parents to find another school for me, where I will be uncomfortable so that this viral infection can not grow or spread.


I was moved from one of the best schools in the country to one of the schools that can be aptly described as local – in the sense of being pedestrian, underachieving, with students that wear shorts instead of normal Trousers at FGC, Kano, and instead of nice pairs of shoes, they wore sandals or in some cases, bathroom slippers, because some of them were from such poor homes, their substitute to slippers will be to come to school bare feet.

I was moved from the “great” Federal Government College, Kano, where the students were from some of the richest families, middle to upper class of the country, elite kids from homes where summer is spent abroad, to then go to a school where the average student was born and grew up in Otta, the boundary area or as I would put it then, the middle of no-where between Lagos and Ogun States.

This is a story I will tell someday and the experiences can be likened to how a friend of mine described the BBC’s “Welcome to Lagos”. This friend said that the programme has some amount of hilarious comedy in it, making one laugh and some bits of it bring tears to one’s eyes because of the abject poverty on display.

However, the essence of this preamble is the Principal at Iganmode Grammar School, Otta, he ensured that every single morning at the assembly, he never failed to put a new spin on his favourite saying “seest though a man diligent in his business? He shall stand before kings; he shall not stand before mean men.”

Where am I going with this, especially as I have not made any reference to the subject matter? OK, let me put it in perspective, when you think of the top ten most powerful leaders in the world, there is often the understanding that the President of U.S.A. seat at the top of that list. The Prime Minister of United Kingdom will be in the mix of the next 3 to 4 names.

If I am diligent in my business, including the politics of governing the country that is now my home, then of course, I should be standing before the Queen, and of course the leaders of this nation. I should be rubbing shoulders with them and asking questions about what their plans are for this country where my children are growing up. I should be positioned to network with them and secure acknowledgement that my vote counts and my ideas, thoughts and views could potentially influence or inform their policies, decision and strategies for governance.

Well, this little boy-rascal has grown out of that rascality and become a diligent man that is trained, educated and now aspires to greater things than he has achieved so far. I am keen to see my presence in a place contribute to development of groundswell or impact change in that commune. That will not happen if I sit on my hands and do nothing, because those who give excuses for not being able to influence, cause or impact change cannot be described as diligent.

A “mean man” according to a dictionary is one who is “ignoble, base, miserly, stingy, low in quality or grade, low in value or amount, low in social status, selfish in a petty way”. I will choose to now put myself in situation where I share the same space with “mean men” because what they do is moan, groan and whinge about anything and everything. They are never diligent enough to get up and contribute their quota to anything.

So, now I have gone full circle and would want to know who should be out of the list of people I can call friends or even acquaintance. Who can I deem worthy of calling to join me when I stand before kings, king-makers and leaders that are recognised worldwide?

I will be at the BLACK BRITAIN DECIDES this Wednesday the 28th of April 2010 at 6.30pm, to join other diligent black people in Britain. The intention is to have a show of face to let the eventual leader of this country know that my vote will count in the decision to see any political party emerge as party of government.

In securing my vote, the emerging leader will have to give a thought to what my needs are, what my aspirations are, what kind of Britain do I want to live and raise my children in. I will want to hear what the programme of the leader will be and hear the leader confirm he cares about me and understand that being black in Britain comes with its own challenges and he is planning to make life better for me and my children because I am diligent member of this society.

You can find more details about the event by checking this website: www.BlackBritainDecides.com

You can register to attend and I hope a large number of my friends will show they are diligent too and do not sit on their hands doing nothing only to moan, groan and whinge when government fail to meet the needs of the black population of this country. If we do not get them to commit to anything as baseline programme, then there is nothing to challenge them on if they deliver nothing for our community.

I look forward to seeing my diligent friends meeting Messrs Gordon Brown, David Cameron and Nick Clegg this Wednesday 28th of April 2010 at 6.30pm. Venue is:

The Methodist Church,

Methodist Central Hall,

Westminster, London,

SW1H 9NH.

Voluptuous, beautiful and awesomely talented – would you vote for her?

I left home at exactly 7a.m. this morning to catch my usual bus, but somehow, I missed it by a few seconds, despite the fact that I ran all the way to the bus stop and even spilled some of my coffee. Fortunately, the coffee did not spill on my suit, thanks to the presence of mind that I remembered to put a paper napkin on the lid so that it soaked the spillage.

Sometimes I do push my luck with timing things to the very last minute and it backfired today leading to a few seconds mistimed and missing the bus. But I won’t complain as it led to a chain of events which in some ways seem almost like “Sliding Doors” the film starring Gwyneth Paltrow, but without the tragedy of the film... awww thank God for that... :-)

Well, I would normally take the bus to Grays Station, but since I missed it, I took the next bus, heading off to Chafford Hundred Station. Imagine a guy running with a big bag on his back, seemingly heavy because my laptop is in there too, and my jacket on one arm, then my coffee cup from Starbucks on the other.

That’s not all, my two mobile phones on one hand, and guess what, I had my wallet in my bag on my back, so with both hands full, coffee spilling out of Starbucks coffee mug that should normally not spill and both hands kept in use, I strolled on to the bus on the other side of the road. Mind you, my shirt collar was still up because my tie is yet to be knotted and I pretty much must have looked like some bloke chased out of the house... not funny but true.

The bus driver had one look at me, asked where I am going to know what ticket to give me and how much I will be charged. I told him its Chafford Hundred station return, “that will be £2.40 matey” he said with a hand outstretched to collect money.

I had to put all my stuff down on one side to get to rummage through my backpack for my wallet and two ladies behind me, one seem in a hurry to get through and the other smiling gently encouraging me to get on with it. I stepped aside for the lady in a hurry to pay and go on, told the tall, beautiful and smartly dressed lady to go on to. But she told me not to worry, I got distracted by the smile, stylish trouser suit and I could not help noticing the hour-glass shape. Hey, the driver was waiting and getting impatient, so he I had to snap out quickly and get the wallet out to pay. I paid as quickly as possible and started packing my stuffs and getting myself together.

I could smell a whiff of nice perfume, I had a feeling it must have been Jean Paul Gaultier or something more delicately sweet. The lady was behind me asking if she could help, I handed over my jacket and coffee mug, grabbed my bag, phones and wallet and followed her to a seat near the door.

I thanked her profusely and she was almost going red in the face, asking me to stop saying thank you and mumbled something about me being too polite. I sorted out my tie, shirt collar, put my phones and wallet in my backpack collected my jacket, put it on and then collected my coffee mug. She introduced herself as Chrissy and we got into conversation about what she does and so on.

Chrissy is a lawyer that works in the city with one of the big firms, she did not tell me her age, but I guess she must be in her early thirties and enjoying her career, chipping into our conversation that career comes first, so family is secondary at this stage of her life. She is Caucasian, exceptionally beautiful, softspoken and very articulate. The kind of lady that you listen to, even when she is not making sense, you simply enjoy the presence.

Well, Chrissy is interested in politics and wants to sort out some stuff she is currently working on over the next couple of years, then she will go into politics. She is one of those swing voters that waits till close to election to decide if she will be Tory, Labor or Libdem and she is holding fire for now to decide who she casts her vote for in the forthcoming election.

I got to Chafford Hundred, shook Chrissy’s hand and told her I will be putting this morning’s incident on my blog and she promised to read it... :-) and I hope she does.

But where I am going with this is the issue of who will you be voting for on 6th of May 2010. There is the potential problem of hung parliament and the idea that the black vote could become the new swing vote that could change the polls and eventual results of this election.

A silly thought in my head was, if Chrissy was one of the political party leader today and asks for your vote, would you be trooping out with your entire family and friends to go vote for Labor, Tory or Libdem, because of this voluptuous, intelligent, beautiful and really sweet person is the leader or would you just not be bother.

I am then pondering, why would majority of our people, Afro-Caribbean and Africans including the ones referred to as Black British, choose to avoid stepping in the polling booth to be counted as one of those that influence the future and direction of this nation.

What would it take to get the average black Joe Blogg in the UK to go to the polling booth on Thursday the 6th of May 2010. If there is an answer, to that, I guess if I know it, I could work wonders in this country, but even if its not one strategy fits all, I will be keen to know why would you vote and why not.

Meanwhile, as if that was not enough to spice my morning, I then got to the station and ran into a good friend, one of those Nigerians who has done supremely well working within the community and driving the agenda of helping the young black population in the UK to find direction, footing, voice and give them reason to believe they can.

My friend is a Pastor and in recognition of his work in the community, he has been honoured by the Queen with Member of the British Empire (MBE). He has met with most of the political leaders in the UK, has been actively involved in helping the police combat the Black on Black crimes, working with young, black kids who are disenfranchised and sometimes expelled from school.

Pastor Nims Obunge (MBE) is a family friend and just as I got through the barrier at Chafford Hundred station, he looked up with a smile and asked me how I was doing. We quickly exchanged pleasantaries and got into discussion about 6th of May election.

The rest of my conversation for this interesting morning will be continued, but before that comes, check out this website Pastor Nims asked me to log on to when I get to the office – www.BlackBritainDecides.com

... :-) to be continued....

... On the issues of FRIENDS... :-)

Old friends, new friends and good friends, bad friends


I was having a chat with a new friend this morning and I am yet to physically meet her, but we do talk on the phone frequently and I am at ease to call her a friend. I choose my friends carefully, so when people ask me if someone is my friend, more often than not, I say I know them, or we have met a few times or they talk to me often but we are not really friends, in other words, that person is an acquaintance.

I do this because it’s not everyone that I have spoken to or met via facebook or even at work that I can truly call a friend. Guess some people would wonder now if they are my friend, well, I must confess, I have very very few friends and even fewer close friends.

Why all this talk about friends, its because a friend, a true friend completely amazed me and confirmed the interesting assumption that “old friends are more dependable than new ones”.

This fantastic friend whom I have not seen for more than 20years attended same secondary school with me (Federal Government College, Kano) and we only reconnected via facebook recently. He is a medical doctor and practices back home in Nigeria. It was great to hook up with an old friend, and over 20 years seemed like only yesterday as we chatted, exchanged emails and when he was in London recently for a series of meetings, we did find time to have lunch in the west end.

I mentioned to him the state of my aging Mum’s health and he told me not to worry that he will “try” and check her out. Well, I did not want to put pressure or make requests so left it as “he may not do anything” so that if he does not act at all, it will not be a big issue. But I was surprised when he sent a text to ask for my Mum’s number.

He called my Mum, went to see her, checked her out, diagnosed and prescribed medication she needed. He sent his driver to deliver the medication the very next morning. My mum was full of praises for my friend and had been praying for him every day as mothers do.

I called to thank my friend and ask how much the medication cost so I can arrange payment and he gave me a good ticking off saying that I should not insult him. “What are friends for and would you not do the same for me if you were in this situation?” he asked. I knew I would do the same, but the “prim & proper English gentleman” side of me did not want to take advantage of friendship or make assumption that an offer is free until it is explicitly declared free.

This experience left me with a deep sense of gratitude and confirmed my vision of what a good friend really is, one does not find many people called friends that would stand in the gap for one. My friend acted more like a brother, he chose to not take any gratification beyond an expression of appreciation, showing the type of kindness that is becoming rare these days.

While discussing this experience with my new friend, we went into analysis of the kind of friends that one make now in London and how Nigerians have come to realise that London is a “leveller” and Nigeria is a “sorter”. Those who will read this and are Nigerians will surely have heard these terms before.

London is a leveller because everyone live in flats, 2-3 bedroom houses, detached, semi-detached or end of terrace and so on. You do not need to have education or earn megabucks to own a landrover freelander or BMW, a good or even not so good credit rating sets you up to ride a new car. Most of us, including even the Mayor of London use the London Underground or Buses and some even ride bicycles, and this is inspite of each person’s financial, political or social background.

Back home in Nigeria, there are people you know would not associate with you because of your position, education, social and financial background and other stuffs like that. It’s not because you are stuffy snub, but simply because the places you go to and the people you interact with are just not in the same league with them. In essence, your friends will be “birds of the same feather”.

That paints a vivid picture of where some of us come from (Nigeria), but the story here is not about Nigeria, London or leveller/sorter, it’s about who we call friends. Everybody on facebook is a celebrity of some kind because they put on nice outfit, take pictures at nice restaurants, clubs and places, look nice with very nice profiles on facebook and so on... but the truth is you can not be sure what kind of creature some of them are... 

A lot of so-called friends we make on facebook live in the world of make-believe, they are as unreal as the virtual world they created for themselves. I hear stories of heartbreaks, complicated relationships, people changing status from single to married and in less than a month moving on to complicated. It is nothing short of mind-boggling. Yet a lot of these folks claim to be someone’s friend.

When you have a friend with incredible amount of inconsistencies in their lives, do you not wonder what kind of person they are? I have been able to connect with a few people on facebook, and when some tell me stories based on their experiences or what they have heard, I feel like doing what our parents used to do to a child considered stupid... Give them a hard knock on the head so that their tiny brain will be shaken up inside that hollow skull and as their eyes water with the pain inflicted, it will wash away the thin film of rubbish blinding them to reality. Arrgggghhhh...

I do pride myself in being able to connect with people at all levels of social, economic and educational ladder. Its part of what makes me successful in my line of business because if I fail to relate well with certain calibre of people, my projects could easily experience failure.

The only issue is, relating and connecting with everyone does not really make everyone your friend, doe it? I will be keen to hear more stories about new friends, especially those made online.

The mantra from my fantastic friend, who is also a motivational speaker is usually “what did you learn from the experience and what would you do differently” if you end up in the same situation again?

Can’t wait to know what the people think, say or feel...

Central Line Embarrassed me this morning... :-(

I was faced… literally faced with an embarrassing situation this morning and if I was Caucasian, I will have been so red in the face that the heat generated will be enough to light a cigarette. This is not funny but then it may sound like it is.


I boarded the Central Line Train from Stratford this morning and it was jam-packed. I happened to be in a hurry to get to the office because its my last day at work, starting new project next week, and wanted to ensure all gets done.

We got squashed in and shoved a bit more as more people crammed into the coach I was on at Stratford, then unfortunately for me a very smartly dressed, tall and slim lady standing face-to-face with me decided it was too crowded and shoved her way through to exit the train. The implication was that a couple of people that were probably claustrophobic decided to step out too.

Now to the embarrassing situation I faced, the lady that I have not noticed at all, just beside me happened to be on the large size side and moved a little to occupy the space the smartly dressed mixed-race lady left, when she stepped out.

Because two or three people stepped out, other folks in a hurry decided they will find a way to fit into the incredibly crammed space, and its difficult to blame them, when its rush hour in London.

Bang, they pushed and shoved and the large lady, obviously top-heavy as some people would say squashed me full frontal and gave a wry embarrassing smile and murmured “sorry…”. The word sorry that I was going to utter got choked in my throat as I looked around to find myself virtually sandwiched between two big ladies and on the side is another obviously well endowed lady on the lower side and she is not that tall..

Now picture this, in front of me is a woman that does not seem to be able to move or even breath without me feeling the movement of her big bust on my chest and just behind is a similar situation, though not as bad, because she maneuvered her way to ensure she created a little space so every little jostling or movement of the train means my arms get rammed by something cushy that I refused to think about.

All I could do was start praying and telling my spirit that this is the work of the devil. The thought of Joseph being seduced by Pharaoh’s wife played in my head like a film and Joseph’s reaction as stated by the bible was to run so quickly that his robe got left behind in Pharaoh’s wife’s hand.

But then I am not in Egypt, this is not Pharaoh’s palace so there is no way I can run out of a moving train that is packed like sardine tin. I thought about speaking in tongues under my breath so that the thought of what is facing me and rubbing my back will not overwhelm me.

Oh Central Line, why did you put me in this embarrassing situation, I thought. It got worse as there was a delay so the train stopped before it got to the next station. Then a little stop-start movement that got everyone falling on one another almost literally. This is so not funny as the busty big lady in front of me must have been thinking of the weather man’s words that it’s a warm day, so she had opted to show a bit more cleavage than usual and ensure my neck needed to be strained.
What do you do when confronted with a sight like that because the only place I could look was the ceiling so it does not seem like I am staring at something I should not and was not..

I remembered the Fulham v Juventus story in the Metro and thought I should use that as decoy by burying my head in the newspaper, but movement of my hand seem to rub the back side of the other big lady and I could feel a sweat of embarrassment break on my forehead. I realized I can not extricate my hand or the Metro, and the lady looked me in the face, I muttered an inaudible sorry and she was no doubt and eastender, saying “aye, that’s ok, we’re stuck in here together…”

Fortunately, the train regained “full consciousness” and the driver announced the train that was stuck at the next station has moved, so we are now able to go on. He apologized for the delay and I felt like screaming “move the hell on and forget the apologies… I will be complaining about this embarrassment no doubt…”

Fortunately quite a few people disembarked at Liverpool Street, giving me some breathing space and as soon as I discovered a seating space, I ran for it, removed my blazer as I could feel the heat under my collar.

When I eventually got to Bond Street station which is nearest to my office, I spoke with one of the station managers, complaining about my embarrassment and asking for a complaint form. He gave me the form and in a very dry humor style, he said he wished he had been in my situation, he would surely not be complaining. I felt like giving him a knock on his bald head so his pervert brain will get into proper shape.

I will be asking for compensation from Central Line (London Underground) because now I am scared of being in small enclosure with too many people, especially if some of them are big ladies…. Its not funny… :-(