Saturday, June 5, 2010

The Shadowland of Dreams

Many a young person tells me he wants to be a writer. I always encourage such people, but I also explain that there’s a big difference between being a writer and writing. In most cases these individuals are dreaming of wealth and fame, not the long hours alone at the typewriter. You’ve got to want to write, I say to them, not want to be a writer.

The reality is that writing is a lonely, private and poor- paying affair. For every writer kissed by fortune, there are thousands more whose longing is never requited. Even those who succeed often know long periods of neglect and poverty. I did.

When I left a 20-year career in the Coast Guard to become a freelance writer, I had no prospects at all. What I did have was a friend with whom I’d grown up in Henning, Tennessee. George found me my home - a cleaned-out storage room in the Greenwich Village apartment building where he worked as superintendent. It didn’t even matter that it was cold and had no bathroom. Immediately I bought a used manual typewriter and felt like a genuine writer.

After a year or so, however, I still hadn’t received a break and began to doubt myself. It was so hard to sell a story that I barely made enough to eat. But I knew I wanted to write. I had dreamed about it for years. I wasn’t going to be one of those people who die wondering, What if? I would keep putting my dream to the test - even though it meant living with uncertainty and fear of failure. This is the Shadowland of hope, and anyone with a dream must learn to live there.

Then one day I got a call that changed my life. It wasn’t an agent or editor offering a big contract. It was the opposite - a kind of siren call tempting me to give up my dream. On the phone was an old acquaintance from the Coast Guard, now stationed in San Francisco. He had once lent me a few bucks and liked to egg me about it. When am I going to get the $15, Alex? he teased. Next time I make a sale.

I have a better idea, he said. We need a new public- information assistant our here, and we’re paying $6,000 a year. If you want it, you can have it.

Six thousand a year! That was real money in 1960. I could get a nice apartment, a used car, pay off debts and maybe save a little something. What’s more, I could write on the side.

As the dollars were dancing in my head, something cleared my senses. From deep inside a bull-headed resolution welled up. I had dreamed of being a writer - full time. And that’s what I was going to be. Thanks, but no, I heard myself saying. I’m going to stick it out and write.

Afterward, as I paced around my little room, I started to feel like a fool. Reaching into my cupboard - an orange crate nailed to the wall - I pulled out all that was there: two cans of sardines. Plunging my hands in my pockets, I came up with 18 cents. I took the cans and coins and jammed them into a crumpled paper bag. There Alex, I said to myself. There’s everything you’ve made of yourself so far. I’m not sure I ever felt so low.

I wish I could say things started getting better right away. But they didn’t. Thank goodness I had George to help me over the rough spots.

Through him I met other struggling artists, like Joe Delaney, a veteran painter from Knoxville, Tennessee. Often Joe lacked food money, so he’d visit a neighborhood butcher who would give him big bones with morsels of meat, and a grocer who would hand him some wilted vegetables. That’s all Joe needed to make down-home soup.

Another Village neighbor was a handsome young singer who ran a struggling restaurant. Rumor had it that if a customer ordered steak, the singer would dash to a supermarket across the street to buy one. His name was Harry Belafonte.

People like Delaney and Belafonte became role models for me. I learned that you had to make sacrifices and live creatively to keep working at your dreams. That’s what living in the Shadowland is all about.

As I absorbed the lesson, I gradually began to sell my articles. I was writing about what many people were talking about then: civil rights, black Americans and Africa. Soon, like birds flying south, my thoughts were drawn back to my childhood. In the silence of my room, I heard the voices of Grandma, Cousin Georgia, Aunt Plus, Aunt Liz and Aunt Till as they told stories about our family and slavery.

These were stories that black Americans had tended to avoid before, and so I mostly kept them to myself. But one day at lunch with editors of Reader’s Digest, I told these stories of my grandmother and aunts and cousins. I said that I had a dream to trace my family’s history to the first African brought to these shores in chains. I left that lunch with a contract that would help support my research and writing for nine years.

It was a long, slow climb out of the shadows. Yet in 1970, 17 years after I left the Coast Guard, Roots was published. Instantly I had the kind of fame and success that few writers ever experience. The shadows had turned into dazzling limelight.

For the first time I had money and open doors everywhere. The phone rang all the time with new friends and new deals. I packed up and moved to Los Angeles, where I could help in the making of the Roots TV mini-series. It was a confusing, exhilarating time, and in a sense, I was blinded by the light of my success.

Then one day, while unpacking, I came across a box filled with things I had owned years before in the Village. Inside was a brown paper bag.

I opened it, and there were two corroded sardine cans, a nickel, a dime and three pennies. Suddenly the past came flooding in like a riptide. I could picture myself once again huddled over the typewriter in that cold, bleak, one-room apartment. And I said to myself, The things in this bag are part of my roots, too. I can’t ever forget that.

I sent them out to be framed in Lucite. I keep that clear plastic case where I can see it every day. I can see it now above my office desk in Knoxville, along with the Pulitzer Prize, a portrait of nine Emmys awarded to the TV production of Roots, and the Spingarn medal - the NAACP’s highest honor. I’d be hard pressed to say which means the most to me. But only one reminds me of the courage and persistence it takes to stay the course in the Shadowland.

It’s a lesson anyone with a dream should learn.

By bolaji aboaba

Monday, April 12, 2010

inspired--A Future Beyond the Dingy Room

A few weeks ago, I picked up the Saturday edition of Punch which I spotted laying around my house. Weekend editions of Nigerian newspapers are almost always a very entertaining read. They have all sorts of articles from entertainment news to investigative reports. I usually read it, shake my head as I read about the political mayhem, laugh out loud at the other incredulous stories and then forget all about it.


However, there was something about this paper that struck a chord, there was an article titled “I slept with an average of 7 men a day”. I was taken aback by the headline. I read the article and it was both heartbreaking and infuriating. The subject of the article was a teenager named Agatha, who was lured away from her village in Enugu by a family friend who promised her a job as salesgirl in Ibadan. She ran away from home despite pleas from her grandmother. As soon as she landed in Ibadan, she was handed over to her new ‘owner’. I say owner because she was sold. She was taken to a dingy hotel, starved for 3 days and despite her pleas, she was threatened with violence. After that point, her life as a sex slave began. Being abused by various men everyday with her ‘pay’ being pocketed by her ‘owner’, ironically named Madam Best. Agatha was very lucky, a would-be customer helped her escape and a kind stranger ensured that she was not recaptured by her madame and her crew.

Many of us live our lives blissfully unaware of ‘Agathas’ all around Nigeria. We hear many stories of Nigerian girls prostituting in Italy, when you are driving at night, you see women dressed in the skimpiest outfits waiting for their next customer, if you go to the clubs, you see women ‘winding’ in acrobatic ways and going home with patrons. At this point, we are almost nonchalant about it. Sometimes, we hiss and say things like “Ashewo” under our breath or maybe we say a silent prayer for them. While very few of these women make the choice to enter this profession, there is a huge percentage of young girls (Many as young as 11) who have been pushed and coerced into this seedy world and from where they are standing, there is no escape. In my western influenced mind, where I have been raised to believe that, we all have a CHOICE. I always wondered, why don’t these girls just leave. Why do they keep doing this? Well, I found out that leaving is not an option in most cases. These girls are alienated from their families and are threatened with violence and even “spiritual consequences” such as death and madness (many of the girls are made to swear various oaths) if they try to leave.

So this is it. That is their life. A painfully numb existence. An unending cycle of having sex with men to survive.

Thank God that some people are trying to help these girls reclaim their lives. The Freedom Foundation setup the Genesis House, a safe home for young female victims of sex trafficking and exploitation. I along with a group of friends visited the Genesis House a few weeks ago. We toured the facilities and spoke to the administrators. It’s a simple house tasked with a complex challenge – To help these girls who have been battered and abused to rebuild their confidence, lives and future. The girls go through a 6 to 9 month programme. They receive counseling, reorientation and job/skills training.

Indeed, they have their whole lives ahead of them. The youngest girl in the house is just 13 years old…

I went back to the Genesis House to speak to the girls a few days later and that experience was a revelation. I met Cynthia* – Cynthia is a pretty and bubbly girl. She’s been in Genesis House for only a few weeks. As with many girls, she ran away from home to Lagos. She had dropped out of school after her JSS3 exams, her mother had died and father said he couldn’t foot the bills for her transportation anymore – it cost 200Naira a day – less than $2. A friend encouraged her to move to Lagos, that she would work with her in a beer parlour. She sent her money for her bus fare. When she arrived in Lagos, she discovered her friend was living in a hotel – working as a prostitute. At this point, Cynthia who was still in her teens, had no money to go back home. She started what she refers to as “the job”.

She took me into her world. She explained that the registration fee for each girl in the hotel in 5000 naira. Every month, they were charged 2000naira for Police dues, 150 naira for the DJ and 900naira daily as their dues. Shockingly, the owner of the hotel has a ‘conglomerate’ of 7 such hotels in Lagos. When we calculated the owner makes several millions per year from these girls. He even lives in one of the hotels with his 3 wives and children. Each day, different types of men would come into their tiny rooms with all sorts of requests. She charged 500 to 1500 naira for ‘short time’. For years, Cynthia did this. She told me “I didn’t even think about any future….what future?” Cynthia didn’t dare to think of leaving. When the Freedom Foundation visited her hotel, she was very reluctant to leave. She sought the advice of a mentor, a woman who had been a prostitute for over twenty years. Cynthia said – The woman advised me not to leave, she told me to keep working as a prostitute and “save money to start my own business”. It’s so funny that in her 20 years of being a prostitute, the woman giving the rotten advice has not saved any money to start her own business.

One of the reasons that Cynthia was so reluctant to leave was because she owed her pimp 7000 naira. An amount that many of us spend of recharge cards each week, that is what was tying her to that life. Eventually, the Freedom Foundation paid her debt and Cynthia entered the Genesis House. It has not been an easy adjustment but now she is firmly committed to turn her life around. I ask her what her plans are for the future. She excitedly tells me that she wants to be a hairdresser and own her own salon. I ask her if she sees herself going back, she emphatically says “NEVER”.

It’s a blessing that Cynthia and girls like her have a chance to live positive and happy lives. Graduates of the Genesis House have gone on to success including one with a successful farm. Another girl that I spoke to has been offered a job at an events decoration company; she also plans to enroll in university part-time. Younger graduates of Genesis House go to back to full-time education – a young 14 year old graduate of Genesis House is currently in a boarding secondary school. A total 360 degree change from her previous life.
I strongly believe that there is joy in sharing with others. Doesn’t have to be money but your time is also valuable. The girls of the Genesis House need positive mentors and many are eager to learn a skill. Perhaps you can open up your business to apprenticeship opportunities or donate some items.

It’s so sad that a common element in most of these stories is WOMEN. Fellow women recruiting their “sisters” into these dangerous situations. You can make a difference by advocating and educating women around you. Also there is no prostitution without customers; I believe that any man who respects himself should not have to pay for sex. You can do something by raising awareness on these issues and promoting stricter penalties for solicitation.

inspired--A Future Beyond the Dingy Room

A few weeks ago, I picked up the Saturday edition of Punch which I spotted laying around my house. Weekend editions of Nigerian newspapers are almost always a very entertaining read. They have all sorts of articles from entertainment news to investigative reports. I usually read it, shake my head as I read about the political mayhem, laugh out loud at the other incredulous stories and then forget all about it.


However, there was something about this paper that struck a chord, there was an article titled “I slept with an average of 7 men a day”. I was taken aback by the headline. I read the article and it was both heartbreaking and infuriating. The subject of the article was a teenager named Agatha, who was lured away from her village in Enugu by a family friend who promised her a job as salesgirl in Ibadan. She ran away from home despite pleas from her grandmother. As soon as she landed in Ibadan, she was handed over to her new ‘owner’. I say owner because she was sold. She was taken to a dingy hotel, starved for 3 days and despite her pleas, she was threatened with violence. After that point, her life as a sex slave began. Being abused by various men everyday with her ‘pay’ being pocketed by her ‘owner’, ironically named Madam Best. Agatha was very lucky, a would-be customer helped her escape and a kind stranger ensured that she was not recaptured by her madame and her crew.

Many of us live our lives blissfully unaware of ‘Agathas’ all around Nigeria. We hear many stories of Nigerian girls prostituting in Italy, when you are driving at night, you see women dressed in the skimpiest outfits waiting for their next customer, if you go to the clubs, you see women ‘winding’ in acrobatic ways and going home with patrons. At this point, we are almost nonchalant about it. Sometimes, we hiss and say things like “Ashewo” under our breath or maybe we say a silent prayer for them. While very few of these women make the choice to enter this profession, there is a huge percentage of young girls (Many as young as 11) who have been pushed and coerced into this seedy world and from where they are standing, there is no escape. In my western influenced mind, where I have been raised to believe that, we all have a CHOICE. I always wondered, why don’t these girls just leave. Why do they keep doing this? Well, I found out that leaving is not an option in most cases. These girls are alienated from their families and are threatened with violence and even “spiritual consequences” such as death and madness (many of the girls are made to swear various oaths) if they try to leave.

So this is it. That is their life. A painfully numb existence. An unending cycle of having sex with men to survive.

Thank God that some people are trying to help these girls reclaim their lives. The Freedom Foundation setup the Genesis House, a safe home for young female victims of sex trafficking and exploitation. I along with a group of friends visited the Genesis House a few weeks ago. We toured the facilities and spoke to the administrators. It’s a simple house tasked with a complex challenge – To help these girls who have been battered and abused to rebuild their confidence, lives and future. The girls go through a 6 to 9 month programme. They receive counseling, reorientation and job/skills training.

Indeed, they have their whole lives ahead of them. The youngest girl in the house is just 13 years old…

I went back to the Genesis House to speak to the girls a few days later and that experience was a revelation. I met Cynthia* – Cynthia is a pretty and bubbly girl. She’s been in Genesis House for only a few weeks. As with many girls, she ran away from home to Lagos. She had dropped out of school after her JSS3 exams, her mother had died and father said he couldn’t foot the bills for her transportation anymore – it cost 200Naira a day – less than $2. A friend encouraged her to move to Lagos, that she would work with her in a beer parlour. She sent her money for her bus fare. When she arrived in Lagos, she discovered her friend was living in a hotel – working as a prostitute. At this point, Cynthia who was still in her teens, had no money to go back home. She started what she refers to as “the job”.

She took me into her world. She explained that the registration fee for each girl in the hotel in 5000 naira. Every month, they were charged 2000naira for Police dues, 150 naira for the DJ and 900naira daily as their dues. Shockingly, the owner of the hotel has a ‘conglomerate’ of 7 such hotels in Lagos. When we calculated the owner makes several millions per year from these girls. He even lives in one of the hotels with his 3 wives and children. Each day, different types of men would come into their tiny rooms with all sorts of requests. She charged 500 to 1500 naira for ‘short time’. For years, Cynthia did this. She told me “I didn’t even think about any future….what future?” Cynthia didn’t dare to think of leaving. When the Freedom Foundation visited her hotel, she was very reluctant to leave. She sought the advice of a mentor, a woman who had been a prostitute for over twenty years. Cynthia said – The woman advised me not to leave, she told me to keep working as a prostitute and “save money to start my own business”. It’s so funny that in her 20 years of being a prostitute, the woman giving the rotten advice has not saved any money to start her own business.

One of the reasons that Cynthia was so reluctant to leave was because she owed her pimp 7000 naira. An amount that many of us spend of recharge cards each week, that is what was tying her to that life. Eventually, the Freedom Foundation paid her debt and Cynthia entered the Genesis House. It has not been an easy adjustment but now she is firmly committed to turn her life around. I ask her what her plans are for the future. She excitedly tells me that she wants to be a hairdresser and own her own salon. I ask her if she sees herself going back, she emphatically says “NEVER”.

It’s a blessing that Cynthia and girls like her have a chance to live positive and happy lives. Graduates of the Genesis House have gone on to success including one with a successful farm. Another girl that I spoke to has been offered a job at an events decoration company; she also plans to enroll in university part-time. Younger graduates of Genesis House go to back to full-time education – a young 14 year old graduate of Genesis House is currently in a boarding secondary school. A total 360 degree change from her previous life.
I strongly believe that there is joy in sharing with others. Doesn’t have to be money but your time is also valuable. The girls of the Genesis House need positive mentors and many are eager to learn a skill. Perhaps you can open up your business to apprenticeship opportunities or donate some items.

It’s so sad that a common element in most of these stories is WOMEN. Fellow women recruiting their “sisters” into these dangerous situations. You can make a difference by advocating and educating women around you. Also there is no prostitution without customers; I believe that any man who respects himself should not have to pay for sex. You can do something by raising awareness on these issues and promoting stricter penalties for solicitation.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

WELCOME TO MY WORLD

this to me is wonderful,you will get to see the me,my goods and services,networking and also the platform of been wonderful.