A LEAP OF FAITH

 When the idea of going bungee jumping was first mooted by a friend who is an ardent Black Scottish Adventurer, I didn’t make anything of it, other than it being ‘one of those wild life experiences I had lurking on my bucket list’, waiting for a date and time when I would be ready to tick it off. Without any thought to the requirements — mental, physical and emotional — to jumping off that platform, I said, “yes, why not? Sign me up”. Until the bus brought us to the entrance of the hole we had to walk down to go up the platform, and things started moving around in my stomach.

In my usual manner, I began sliding down a mental cascade of thoughts which happens each time I want to do something daring. I was asking myself what could fatally go wrong, and if it happened, how bad would my death look? I remember deep in a limestone cave in Ljubljana, Slovenia in 2017, I was wondering how deep an underground river runs, and if it was worth falling off the ledge for. Thankfully, I spoke to one of my hosts/guides, and they warned me that it would take nearly 12 days for any body to wash up when the river runs overland, while they kept a close eye on me for the rest of the visit. Anyways, on this day, I spent very little time on such thoughts, and spent more to marvel at the engineering around building the platform, the rope combinations, e.t.c. The safety measures on that platform for the time I had been there, I had never seen anywhere outside certain hospitals in all of Nigeria.

Standing on the edge of a platform, heart pounding, palms sweating, I took a deep breath and leaped into the void. In that moment of free fall, as the ground rushed up to meet me, I discovered that bungee jumping is more than just an adrenaline rush — it’s a profound metaphor for life itself. The safety net, both literal and figurative, was my first revelation. In bungee jumping, the cord is your lifeline, carefully calculated and tested to ensure your safety. Similarly, in life, we often underestimate the importance of our support systems — family, friends, and community — until we find ourselves in free fall. These safety nets catch us when we stumble, providing reassurance and strength to take risks and push our boundaries.

As I plummeted downward, terror gripped me. But just when I thought all was lost, the cord tensed, and I began to rebound. This moment of change, from falling to rising, taught me a valuable lesson about resilience. Life often throws us into seeming freefall — job losses, bankruptcy, mourning, heartbreaks, or personal setbacks. Yet, if we hold on and trust in our ability to bounce back, we often find ourselves rising again, sometimes even higher than before. The illusion of control was shattered the instant I stepped off the platform. In that moment, I realized that no matter how much we plan or prepare, life has a way of sweeping us off our feet. Bungee jumping forced me to surrender to the experience, to trust in forces beyond my control. This lesson extends to our daily lives, where we must learn to navigate uncertainty and adapt to unexpected circumstances with grace and flexibility.

Perhaps the most profound insight came from pushing myself to the very edge of my comfort zone. Standing on that platform, every instinct screamed at me to step back, to choose safety. But by challenging myself to take that leap, I discovered reserves of courage I never knew I possessed. This experience reinforced the importance of regularly pushing our boundaries, of seeking out experiences that scare us just a little. It’s at these cusps of comfort and fear that we truly grow, learning more about ourselves and our capabilities. Bungee jumping, with its heart-stopping thrill and moment of pure vulnerability, serves as a powerful reminder of life’s unpredictability and beauty. It teaches us to trust in our safety nets, to believe in our ability to rebound from setbacks, to surrender control when necessary, and to continually challenge ourselves. These lessons, learned in a few seconds of free fall, have the power to transform how we approach the many leaps of faith we take throughout our lives.

June Bugs - The Sequel

June came with a blanket of clouds and an outpouring that reminds me that, as troubles never singly come; blessings follow each other in tow, as a gush from a broken cistern. The rendition from a million droplets hitting roofs, windows, the ground, and everything between, creates an atmosphere so early in the morning for metareflection. 

June often come, bearing gifts and bugs. Gifts that waters the ground for amazing growth. A lot of times, as people scream and shout, "It's already the halfway point of the year, what have you achieved"; June is telling us subtly, now is when the fruit of your toil begins to take shape ahead of the harvest. Maybe, now is the time to also fall in love? It also comes bearing bugs that reminds us that life's in phases, and all things come good for those who allow nature take its fill course. June lets us look at it as a glass deemed half full, or half empty.

The last time I took proper note of June; bugs fertilised early and the troubles they hatched, left parts of me in bits and pieces many months later. Quite interesting that I have taken noted of yet another June nearly a decade later, with nostalgia and a few skip of the beat off my chest where it matters. Little wonder it rains so frequently in June, as a man suffering diuresis and refusing to slow down on his bottles.

June comes with thanks on my lips, for family that surrounds with warmth always, friends who cheer my heart with lively banter, work that keeps the mind oiled, and the enigma that sets me off in a maze. In truth, I am happy to be lost in this maze, as I find myself yielding at last, and wanting to be vulnerable.

A Beard, An Army Green Jacket and Getting Detained at Busia

I don't know what could ever make me turn down an opportunity to travel. You see, my knack for travel means that I get the sickness bug, if I haven't traveled in 90 days. The thrills help my mind breathe and turn up the embers of that burning desire for life!

Passport is ever ready for that travel

 Two years ago, while returning to Rwanda a second time within four months, I missed my connecting flight because my flight to Nairobi was late. I smiled to myself inside Jomo Kenyatta International Airport, knowing that I could get the chance to explore Nairobi. Sadly, no thanks to terrible customer service by Kenyan Airways and her partner hotel, I lost time between waiting to get to the hotel and even checking in to my room. Well, when I finally got the chance to enter Nairobi with friends, we were only able to get as far as the parliament building, and left in good time, before Nairobi's traffic would swallow us.

Ugali and Chicken is one of my East African immersions. But I traveled with my pepper

I knew then, that I had unfinished business in Kenya - I always knew that I owed life a good chunk of merriment and the creation of memories in East Africa, and nothing will happen in Kenya to even douse it. So, when I returned to Nairobi in late July for a strategy meeting, I knew there was no way it would be all work and no play for Kolo. The winter was receding, but the cold was still there to make me needy. Thankfully, the army green jacket I bought in Copenhagen which has famously joined my travel starter pack was there to shield me from Nairobi chills. The nights were amazing. Eish, Westlands at night is something akin to Rue Princess in Abidjan. What I learned from those Nairobi nights is that Kenyans are way ahead of Nigerians when it comes to craft beer. Well, we have the age long burukutu and ogogoro, goskolo and what have you, but to know that most of the clubs and lounges sold their own craft beer got my jaws dropping like...

 

There is also the matter of maximum land use management with most malls and plazas having underground parking, unlike in Nigeria where half the size of your plot is earmarked for parking.I enjoyed my first silent disco experience in Nairobi too. The team after working our socks off, decided to celebrate our success, and silent disco was the perfect answer for me. I've always been a lover of mighty headphones, and it felt awesome around my ears.

My silent disco experience was lovely

A day before my flight, I received an notification. I was summoned to represent a superior, at the Commonwealth Youth Ministers' Meeting holding in Kampala, Uganda. The ajala/sojourner in me was as usual, prepared and ready to go. Apart from a few delays to confirm immigration requirements and my supporting documents, I managed to beat the Nairobi traffic to catch my bus, even though my luggage had to meet me up in Kampala on another bus. The commute helped me to see the geographical beauty of Kenya and mostly, the great rift valley which I had read so much about in school.

So, I packed my bag, and headed to town to meet a team I will soon be working with in Calabar, and to taste my first masala chai. Before I was done, it was time to beat Nairobi's evening rush hour and catch up with my bus to Busia. But, my luggage was still atleast 15 kilometres away. So, I agreed with my host, to just meet me up at the park. On getting to the park, my bus had already left the park, but thankfully was caught in traffic. Issue was, my luggage had not arrived the park, so I left a message with the Station Manager, who agreed to put my luggage on the next bus. Goodnews was, I had gone out with my travel passport in the morning.

I caught up with the bus, and was promptly ushered to my "VIP" seat, while I kept conversing with my host, to reconcile details regards my luggage, as well as snapshots of my Yellow Fever card that was in my bag. However, it was the events at the border post at Busia, that caused a few shivers down my spine, and causing me to play scenes in my head, while sat in an office, left alone for a while before officers came in to interrogate me.

You know how Nigerians are often stereotyped in the West? Well, same thing happened to me at the airport in Dubai and Nairobi; and it was what was playing out at Busia. Typically, the question in their heads, is in this line... "what is a bearded Nigerian donning an army green raincoat doing, crossing Kenya in to Uganda by road?" I was asked this kind of question by Ouatarra's rebels at Gbeunta in 2010, detained for hours and missing my truck ride to Danane. This time though, the bus driver was generous enough to wait for me. The interrogators were a man and a woman. The woman tried to look terse and tough, and all I continually kept telling myself, was to tay relaxed, smile and be as soft spoken as possible.

The lady asked, "where is the gun you are carrying?"

I looked at her playing surprised, and replied, "what gun?"

Army green jacket in use in Poland this time

The man banged the table, "young man, are we here to play? Where is the gun in your possession? The scanner detected a gun on you"

I sat up, moving my hands from the folded position on my chest, to placing them on the table, akin to surrendering myself to a body search. Then I looked at the man, and responded, "Sir, I have never owned a gun in my life. I am on a trip to Rwanda to attend the Commonwealth Youth Ministers' Meeting. My letter of invitation and reservations are on my phone in my pocket, and your colleague can get it out of my pocket if she wants."

He looked me straight in the eyes, and replied, "you can bring it out yourself."

So, I slowly put one hand in, and brought out my phone. Unlocked it, scrolled to the downloaded letters, and showed him.

"These signatures can easily be photoshopped, young man, I can't believe you", he said.

I quickly went back to my email, and showed him correspondence with the rep from the commonwealth office, who had sent my invitation letter. Only at that point, did he ease up.

Then, he went on to ask how I was going back to Nigeria. He wasn't concerned if I was going elsewhere from Kampala. For him, it was about returning to Nigeria for me. So, I listed out my itinerary, including the fact that I would be returning to Busia to exit his country before heading back to Nigeria.

All these happened so quickly, that within half an hour, it was all done, and I was allowed to go get my passport stamped. It was at that point that I realised their possible reason for detaining me. My passports (I always travel with my active and expired passports in one bind) were plastered with stamps from my many travels. Was that what triggered them? I know Uganda has had its fair share of conflict, and the proliferation of small arms, thanks to its foreign policy and proximity to volatile States.

Kenyan highlands where sugar cane thrives so much on

As I sat through the remaining half of my ride to Jinja and then Kampala, my mind stayed fixated on the agricultural potential of Uganda, and the banana plantations brought back scenes from "The Gods Must Be Crazy", as I smiled sheepishly to myself, entering Kampala.

GODS OF LAGOS

The gods of Lagos have met
To each, their share of minced meat and crimson Roast, with a bit of char was preferred Otedola's god; the burgus A few, dipped in herb marinade More sacrifice awaits Those still counted, rejoice For they and their shackles are spared, yet

OJUELEGBA

The gods of Ojuelegba shall

Be appeased yearly

Mangled meat and crimson

Left at crossroads will do

Woe betides you, there, under

Where gatekeeper squeeze nostrils

Till the stench leaves at sunset

Make peace always

For picks are random

You may be next!

MY PASSIONS ARE A MARKETPLACE BUT EVERYBODY WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD

Yuletide calls for stocktaking, as much as the air is filled with laughter, delicious aroma, buntings and fanfare. So, in-between catching your breathe from a long exhausting year by spending time with family and friends, you can also be caught up with the rigors of re-evaluating life, and charting a course for the new year. Or, not.

It is not unusual to be caught clueless in a new year with a fresh tabula rasa, without a plan of how to create your own stories thereof. I have that experience, and it can leave you running around like a headless chicken, only trying to bide fates to shine good fortune your way. Many course through life with such mantras, seeking serendipity, while some are deliberate about what time and chance they are eager to jump at.

Three years ago, I told myself "I need to travel more in the new year." I said this with so much conviction, that I attracted a lot of travel opportunities to my life, the year after. I am grateful that I can share this experience of being able to be deliberate about a thing or a plan. But you see, I believe we are a sum total of our life's experiences - that makes us whom we are, with a blend of our temperaments, passions and the goodwill of Father Sky, fates or God.

Yet, in the throes of soul-searching and being deliberate for the new year, I am easily left confused because my passions become a rowdy marketplace. My thoughts are amazing. As soon as I began to give second ear to the phrase "Kolo, you're so difficult to understand", the easier it was for me to realize how true this was, for me.

You see, I used to be really intelligent - up until the time I began playing catch up with all the play I thought I didn't have enough of as a child, and the laziness that rules when I am caught at crossroads with so many passions yanking at me for first place. For much of that time, I am left being so critically scared of myself. Of the things I could have done, become or achieved; of the weaknesses and the little failures I let become a better of me; and the shenanigans of life that I have made strange bed fellows with.

In the pursuit of 'happyness', I've come to the realization that tears and fears are hard currencies. But, so are clarity of thought, persistence and aptitude. And as much as I can be my own weatherman, my frailties hold me back still.

I want to pursue happiness, and do this with freedom and all the pleasure that tails along, but not before this cup passes over me - this place where the light doesn't find me, where I'm married to my many passions, and lost on which to pursue headlong as my first love.

Everybody wants to rule the world!

LONESOME DREAMS - BELINDA

You see, the heart works in mysterious ways. It can be a hard nut to crack, then suddenly it is such a sponge cake, that anything can slice through. When hard, everyone wonders why. And when it goes soft, everyone makes you regret why. It sure gets lonesome this matter of the heart, yeah?

I love how the heart inks memories into time. The waft of laughter filling the air, the soft caress of the hands down the body in the heat of passion, or the time stamp that is good music. Good, in the sense that, the lyrics might not be so cool, but the tone is befitting of the moment which is being inked in to memory. Thus, you might be in a cab or bus, relaxing at home  or simply bumping away to it in your car or your stereo, and its memories come flooding over you.

It can be exciting and nostalgic when the memories bring that feel good drag, especially if you're in love, worst off, were in love. Oh, time and time again, I find a crop of people who use music as time stamps to a place, an event, an anniversary, a date, an occurence... something which must bring goosebumps over them. Good for them. But, it's not the same for those who once were in love, and are now heartbroken.

For, the nostalgia that comes with the waft of the same music, sweeps hate, anger and rage. You still love the song, but hate the memories that tail along. You're caught between the song you love so much, and memory you wished was binned already.

It can't get worse than that, as I've come to learn. You hate the memory with the song, then listen to it more, and begin to banish the memories away from the song, until your love for the song is rekindled. But, would you ever see the song in the same light?

Today bumped into Ojhey's "Belinda", and it brought nostalgia even though I was a first time listener. From the off, I knew  I would be making memories with the music. No wonder, while I lay in wait for strength to go bathe, my right eye kept tearing, because deep down, I knew "Belinda" was time stamp worthy, but would it be for good?

A PATH THAT WINDS IN TO THE CLOUDS

Oko, labe igi oronbo
A path that winds into the clouds
In loving memory of broken cisterns that squirt.
The very moan of trees
Rises to ninth heaven in praise,
Of the cat that died
Dousing the rampaging fire running in your tap

SUNSHINE

My dreams are pregnant
Weighed upon frail shoulders
Thick as the gathering of storm
Behind which you're the sunshine

LONESOME DREAMS - I'LL FIX YOU

It is not uncommon to meet amazing women for whom your admiration and flirtations ache to run to, for a tango. You know.., those dashing damsels you keep wondering where they've been all that while, you were busy being encumbered with a lady, heavily yoked with emotional baggage. The one you're happy to have left, but have left you hurting so bad because you suddenly woke up to happiness deferred.

So, these damsels... you pick out similarities, and find places where they compliment you, but that's where it stops. Mentally, you are not seeing anything beyond there, so when the damsel begins to poke demands for commitment, you stutter, not because your life doesn't say "I'm ready", but because your emotional resource is spent, you are even guilty of not loving yourself enough.

Sadly, it is you who has lost something you can not replace. A word, a smirk, a smell, an action, a reaction or lack of it, brings you back to a time when you overlooked something because...you were already on overdrive. Like being overdosed on drugs till you run into coma and give up. Then every now and then, you meet people who bring their bitter luggage with them to the table — a flashback, and you flee.

You begin to ask yourself hard questions, like whether you are ever capable of love again, if you are ever going to trust someone else again, even though in truth, it is whether you can trust yourself to be vulnerable with another person again. Often times, it is very complicated for these hearts. As complicated as the governance architecture of Bosnia & Herzegovina.

I'm here, unbundling my favorite Coldplay  songs which are seemingly still laced with demons from times past, timestamps to an event, a quote, a happy or sad moment, the beginning or end of something, or the truth, that i really need fixing!