Monday, February 13, 2023
Victory. That is not my name nor the title I want to give this essay. Rather it is what I feel, the reality of this evening. It’s some minutes to 7 PM and here I am, lying in my bed. Staring at the coloured asbestos of this new apartment. I am yet to acclimatize to this street, unlike Orogun, there is no Bet9ja shop playing Naira Marley or Zinolesky or Olamide; there is no bar joint with the cacophony of drunks singing syncretised Christian hymns; there’s no incessant yell of the Alhaja who beats her maid often; there are no annoying sounds of cars speeding; no sudden noise of someone lamenting theft. In here, it’s a common silence disvirgined with a few sounds of cars moving to and fro and lots of birds chirping. I used to think I would like a quiet place but Ajibode bores me out. However, I am grateful that there’s no night vigil, at least night indeed looks like night, especially with the eternity vow Ajibode has made with IBEDC which will not allow the community to have electricity.
Nevertheless, I feel happy. My room is small, my desk is still big, I got a new laptop, I fluctuated between happiness and sadness, I laughed often and finally, I just finished my 400 Level first semester exam. This essay might be long, I really don’t know but if it is, take a seat, you might enjoy this. Since the price a writer have to pay is sharing little secrets of his life, and you, who wants to gauge how well you’re doing in life will want to read this.
Tech Bro, March 2022 Version: In the beginning,
It’s a Wednesday morning and it was one of those mornings I didn’t want to leave my bed. I didn’t want to do anything — not even pray, journal, or reach Tee, my mentor. I just want to listen to Sasha Sloan and cry imaginary tears, eat a lot, see movies, go to work, go for a walk, go to West Grille, fake laughter, and replay memories of love at night.
I was broke. Dead broke. I could afford some things though but many other things are like dreams. I quit writing in January when my client was stressing me out. I quit a design job earlier that March because the client often pays late. I got a design job for a restaurant in Abuja. But as I opened my eyes that Wednesday morning, something seems to have happened. I challenged my skill level as I scrolled through Twitter. I kept seeing mid-designs of web pages, welcome pages, sign-ups, and dashboards and I told myself that if UI/UX is all about this, then I can do it now. I can. I put on my Lenovo x250 and searched for some videos of UI/UX I downloaded the year before, and thankfully I haven’t deleted Malik’s Project Skill1000 video, so it began — my UI/UX journey.
Tech Bro, April 2022 Version: Ongoing
Tomiwa was instrumental to my growth. I met Akinpelu a year earlier in SkillNG. He was jovial and looked handsome. The earliest thing I can remember about him was that he was discussing Victoria O.’s Spirit Chant with Sharon. Then, Tomiwa was a Data Analyst. I collected his number in the SkillNG hub that day because he looks jovial and passionate & because I wanted to network.
A few months down the drain of friendship, he was tagging me to design tweets. He sent me challenges and we shared aspirations. I was an ardent reader and he shared an interest in reading some of my books like Atomic Habits and Art of War (which he said he doesn’t understand). Apart from Tech, I met some ladies from Tomiwa, and one of them is Halimah.
One evening, Tomiwa sent me a Telegram link to a web 3 design competition. I told him I was going to join. I did. The competition was about designing a website for mobile screens, it is simple but I didn’t design it. I was lazy and unhappy and I sabotaged myself. He messaged me a couple of times to be sure I am going to join the design and my responses were positive even though I knew I wasn’t gonna do shit. Perhaps Tomiwa knew, or not, yet he kept texting. This single act makes me realize that it doesn’t matter what you give, those who love you genuinely will love you without wax.
After two weeks of design, the results were announced and the first position’s design looks mid. Perhaps I could have done better if I joined because by now, I had already worked on my first case study titled Kàwé. I was sad and disappointed but again, I ate and I am okay.
By the end of April, I was getting ready to quit my job with the restaurant as a designer. My boss, Oredola, is now aware of my transition into UI/UX, I designed various screens — bad, ugly, worse, and beautiful. Thanks to Funmilayo Obasa, she shared my Farmco design with her Friends of Figma in Ilorin and the responses opened me to a complex topic in design — spacing.
Tech Bro, May 2022 Version: Standard
I have become quite a designer and my CL/TL know who Techoy is. I have dropped reading, I think of design every minute and instead of movies, I am watching another CareerFoundry video or SupaFast of memorisely on YouTube. On May 7, I found myself in Gbagada staring endlessly at a crowd of designers. My eyes travel quickly among the groups of ladies, the dressing, the guys’ shoes, the designer cloth, and the hairstyles. I knew I was meant to be one of them, I can feel the aura. I wore the cloth Olayimika gave me on my 21st birthday and fuck it — I miss her.
The first session talked about Stealing like an Artist. I listened attentively but while I was there, I caught someone’s yellow wallpaper and I felt like mine must be yellow. So, I flickered on my Nokia and searched Pinterest for Yellow wallpaper, downloaded one, and changed my wallpaper. And while I write this essay, I am brought to the realization of how we often try to fit in, especially in the company of similar folks. I don’t think it’s peer pressure, I rather think of it as aspirations.
I struggled past the second session because I had been looking forward to seeing Iwatutu, one of my design students turned friends from SkillNG. When she finally came, we went to a restaurant nearby where she footed all the bills. 7th May was quite eventful and on some nights, I think of how to steal like a thief. The hairstyle of the speakers, the mixture of yellow and black, the food I had in that restaurant, and the pictures of myself which Iwatutu took.
Phase two: Friendship
I rarely make friends but by May, Ibukun shared Della’s contact so that we could hop on a design challenge. Unbeknownst to me, Della is in a team that I am part of, and on the first night of chatting, we shared more than 200 messages. It was like one of those random friends you meet and kick off friendship from the first day. We discussed design and memories, I said she had a sweet voice, and she laughed. She said she will be coming to Ibadan. We fixed a date. I knew I wanted to date her but I didn’t know how. So, on our first date, I gave her a handwritten letter and we took three pictures, one of which now serves as the wallpaper of our chat.
Halimah
I knew Halimah through Tomiwa’s tweet and that began the journey of our friendship. That night, I checked Halimah’s profile and I ran to Tomiwa’s DM to ask about Halimah. I wouldn’t have done that but she is beautiful. That night, I read about her birthday surprise on Medium, checked her pictures on her media, googled her name, read some of her blog posts, then sent her a message and awaited her response.
Three days passed, I think, and then Halimah replied. We talked about the Russia-Ukraine war, I flaunted my History knowledge. We shared memes, we spoke staggering French, we shared VNs. I sent her mail, she replied, we shared digits, we became friends, I crushed on her, and Tomiwa, a good friend of mine who has mastered the art of tormenting me with unrealistic hope of Halimah and I being together, laugh in derision.
The evening I saw Halimah, it was at West Grille. I wouldn’t have left my room but it was Halimah. I got to West Grille, Bódìjà at 5:30 PM. We laughed a little, we talked, and for what was worth it, I saw her laugh in real life and dear God.
Eseosa
#BlessedwithGifts and I became closer on a Sunday evening. I swear she was funny. I never believed her real age until she showed me a piece of evidence. We bonded and laughed. We planned too. We had a bible date. We shared our low moments. We hoped to meet before she leaves Nigeria.
And to the girls, I met before and after
Smiles.
Bambam
I call BamBam Black Rock. Giving names has never been my problem so to give BamBam Black Rock was as easy as fuck. We bonded well in 200L and by 2022, we had become brothers variably different but led by aspirations. In another essay, if I have enough time to write, I will write extensively about Bambam and the Brotherhood.
Odeyemi
Odeyemi travelled to the United States on August 10. I knew this date very well because it was also the day I celebrated my birthday. I remember at midnight he sent me a picture of himself inside the plane. It hurts, It fucking hurt but I am proud of him. I knew I was going to miss him so much. Perhaps I cried a little and for the first time, I thought I shouldn’t be here for God’s fucking sake.
The morning of my birthday, Odeyemi gifted me his shelf and books; while as much as I was happy, this never filled the void of the fact that Ìdòwú is not around me again. Despite his bluntness, Ìdòwú loves me so much that he never relents to chastise me. He is so blunt that he can easily vex you but loves that he can give anything.
I remembered my birthday in the earlier year, Idowu and his babe, Claire, had taken me to West Grille, Bodija, where we talked about fashion and aspirations. I should also add that he gave me a handwritten letter with money inside the envelope.
But while I wallow in this pool of the hurt embedded in missing someone, Ìdòwú reminded me of the future. I don’t know what it holds, but I am positive.
Crises of the Future.
One morning after Ìdòwú had gone to Boulder for his PhD, I woke up and asked myself: “to what extent do I want to keep deceiving myself that I want to keep being a tech person?” This question sparked a dead interest in me — Academics. For many days, I fondled with what I really wanted to do in life — tech or academics. After much thought, I decided to visit Tee, my mentor and we discussed purpose and desire.
Tech bro in History Class
The first class I attended after the eight-month strike was HIS 402, Intergroup Relations in Nigeria lectures by Professor Ajayi. He handled the class in such a way I love so much. He broke the terms into smithereens and all over again, I fell in love with History.
I began to read, I started with journal articles, then I read essays, I read pocket essays, and I read books too. I read Toni Morrison’s Beloved. I engage in conversations also, I don’t always know everything unlike what people often think of me. I listen to a discussion of a topic I don’t know. I speak in a discussion of a topic I am familiar with. I found friend, I found enemies, I found those who we whisper when they pass, I found those who shake hands with, I found the lady that hugs so tight, I found the who whose wig stinks, I found the one that asks excessive question, I found Okiki, I found Sapphire.
I made a resolution never to miss class and on days when tiredness sets in, I never hesitate to draw my bed cover over my head, plug my earphone and enjoy a long sound sleep. My first test went so well, I think I will ace it then another thing happens — my laptop.
The end of an era
I remembered the afternoon I got my Lenovo x250 laptop, it was in Terry’s mother’s shop that the phone call came in. On the next day, I picked up the laptop and came back to Zik Hall. Having spent five years, on January 1, 2022, my cousin spilt water on my laptop and that simple act led to the beginning of the end of Lenovo’s era.
It was on an evening in October, I had convinced myself that it is not good for me to be carrying my laptop alongside the keyboard. So, I went to an engineer, told him to repair the keyboard, and dropped it with the hope to collect it on the third day. But unfortunately, that Tuesday night was the last night I’d ever shut down my laptop.
And while I was without a laptop, I picked up writing again. I used my phone as a major medium of writing. I continued to write till I got stuck with using my phone and when I finally got a new laptop, it became quite hard for me to type on the laptop. I applied for jobs as a writer. Some called back, and some left me unreplied. Days without a laptop taught me other things about myself. I focused on African History, I wrote many pieces, I published on Hackernoon and I got a dollar-paying writing job now, I understand Aristotle’s Sweet Are The Uses of Adversities.
On losing someone
That Sunday morning, January 1, I asked Terry to come to Orogun for the New Year celebration. Sometimes, I wonder if I ever made good on our friendship; so in light of this, his coming was meant for us to laugh, share memories and eat but he couldn’t.
That evening, after I had walked off Charles and Tomiwa, I saw Terry’s status. I screamed. I called him, and for the very first time, I heard him weep. I aborted that call and that night, memories of Terry’s father flooded my mind. Is he truly dead?
Aftermath
Every other thing that happened in 2023 will hopefully be documented in my next essay. It’s 9:43 PM and I can’t believe it. I want to see Sherlock Holmes, I want to text A, I want to read, I want to Sleep, I want to rearrange my room, amidst all these things that I want to do, I want to eat.
