Slam is experimenting! Now in his twenties he marks another era in the development of the next Nigerian pop music idiom. He goes after his fancies in the song Ebu Chineke. That is enough to reveal to the keen music fanatic in Nigeria that as an Igbo man from the South-East Zone, Slam is merely following the trends of kinsmen in the home video industry. He relies on lyrics written either in English or native Igbo language, just like the movie gurus who experiment with neo-modernist ideas. There a synthesis of hip-hop and Nigerian idiosyncrasies rules his musing character. But unlike Mr. Cool, (from the same zone) who croons too, Slam is picking song yodels, following very recent if not latest global styles. One can discern the strong sense of Latino in the track Booty Dance; and even the body twisting and wiggling by the female cast of the music video say something. Slam is also experimenting with themes. After all Ebu Chineke is gospel with a lot of soul, yet Booty Dance has a strong display of secular sexuality. And Slam is Slam in both vocal attitude and futuristic feel.

It is this nonspecific experimentation that has characterized Nigerian pop acts for sometime now. Groups like Tribesmen and Plantashun Boys too have been involved. Though they were more into the almost mundane dancehall reggae feel, spiced with a little of urban ghetto character, like Daddy Showkey's African dancehall style. This too has a strong national following for its African cum revolutionary themes. It preaches ideals of the ghetto, and beats its chest in complete defiance to elitist arrogance. Ajegunle, a ghetto near Lagos is the origin of this identity, and some Nigerian football in Europe stars came from there too.

In the past such developments were borne out of many definitive factors and eras in Nigerian pop culture history. At the turn of every socio-political cum economic orientation, a new crop of pop musicians would emerge with a peculiar fad. This is easily discernable also in the pre-independence era, when Highlife bands with strong Ghanaian and West Africa wide links played to military bands march-beat. Therefore musicians like Bobby Benson and IK Dairo of Taxi Driver and Mosorire (I’m Blessed) fames moved from emulating the beat to fusing native music elements for popular entertainment. Fela Anikulapo Kuti would follow, influenced by jazz, with his band the Kula Lobitos; and found a means in Afro Beat to fight military regimes till the early 90s. Femi Kuti picking his father,Fela’s legacy with a liberal experimentation became an exemplar for Paul Play IK Dairo (IK Dairo’s son) to re-mix Mosorire for an instant hit in the 90s. Therefore one sees a throw-back to the old while keeping abreast of the now genres; just to sound modern. Yet if you suspect Slam’s experiments might mark a complete departure hold your breath, and let the beat go on.

In the post civil war Eastern Nigeria of the 70s such ventures lasted a while. Then a peculiar urban pop style with a strong fusion of rock and soul genres characterized bands like the Wings, Ofege, Cloud Nine and the Apostles. Twenty years of cultural experimentation with Sonny Okosun’s Ozzidism, similar to Ghana’s Osibisa, African instrumental cross-rhythmic ensemble with a feel transiting from reggae to strong rock came to be born in Kris Okotie’s I Need Someone in 1979. It was an instant national hit produced by Odion Iruejie and backed by Laolu Akins and friends of the Blow fame.

Kris Okotie opened and urban flood gate for Jide Obi and Felix Lebarty doing hits in the 80s. Music came alive and stronger than before, when Majek Fashek’s Send down the Rain and Prisoner of Conscience simply re-incarnated Bob Marley’s catholic chants laced with congas to have Kpangolo. This again demonstrated that the Igbos’ (Jews of Nigeria) were in control of the firmament. Tabansi Records owned by an Igbo businessman was the culture factory where these young men either as former producers or new artistes stepped off the mill. It is a trend that has also revolutionalized the home video industry in this country. This means they will always know where the money is from a mile, and would easily cash in for soprano acts. And it was not as if sex was not reflected; infact suspicion that Alex Zito’sTickle Me! might have caused Shina Peter to know that if women would throw female scented pants at the Ghanaian, then sex could sell music not otherwise. So Shina exported sex via Figure 8, Ijo Shina and Shina Mania to America. African Americans were agog!

This guitarist simply sought solace in the cross-rhythms of the South-West zone (Yoruba) talking drums to send hips and boobs of many voluptuous looking girls gyrating to the delight of American voyeurism. So through him in the 90s Nigerians’ urge for escapist eroticism as refuge from hard times was accurately reflected. He was an alternative to the lamentations of the early 80s upward; exemplified by Majek Fashek. Therefore between lamentations and escapism in sex, Ras Kimono sang Likkle Sugar, while Charley Boy sang 1990; all about dis-satisfaction with the economy raked earlier by a corrupt civilian regime of the Second Republic.

But the coming of military President Ibrahim Babangida, which brought uncontrolled liberalization in all aspects of life, might have engendered Shina’s sexual expositions too. After all he also sang about the cares and fantasies of women in the song Figure 8. Females were curious an enthusiastic about their liberator from male chauvinism!!

Meantime the death of Femi’s sister Yeni about the same with the father would also see him venturing into soul synthesized with Afro Beat. It was most like a deafening silence even as Lagbaja, who through years of jazz music presentation on Ray Power 100, Nigeria’s Premier Independent FM radio, released an urban mix grill. He tried much as he could to marry urbanized Yoruba idiosyncrasies, with some gimmickry-lacing for the venturesome Igbos of the South East, in Lagos, Nigeria’s city of opportunities.

Everyone was expecting something new, but to no heed. Seeming so like Nigeria was bereft of originality, Minaj Broadcast International, a satellite TV station could hardly satisfy Nigeria’s yearning for a catch fire song or album. But it tried its best to draw attention to the hurriedly done sounds, just like Nigerian movies often made in less than three weeks. So its Afrocentric professing could at least match South Africa’s Channel O’s global sound trots. But the season of lack in the national grove continued. May be only Sound Sultan with his Jagbantis sound and Slam’s Latino and Soul expositions gave a hint of what might follow. Not really a style epoch. Not even near a national grove; but something to go by.

However it seems so true that Nigerian music must challenge the corrupt establishment, fight for human rights, cause women empowerment, continue to feed wounded sexual libidos and may be create some utopia of a country that will bounce back economically. That is if cultural institutions would preserve the essence of arts as a communication tool, record labels take some risks; with foreign labels taking on Nigerian acts. What Kennis Music by the Kenny and D1 formerly of the Ray Power Jam crew is doing to Paul IK Dairo, Tony Tetuila and then Slam prompts the question, “Who is Slam?”

Well reckoning with the times Slam is of the now generation. He is lucky that computer aided music making simply makes music making so easy. But Slam is vocal deepwater, running on the surface for now. If he sees good songwriting as a means to proper career development then the sky will be his limit. And that might as it has for many Nigerian acts become a lack and could stifle his career. That is to say that since the average music fanatic cannot acknowledge him as a good song writer, or having a good one to supply him, Slam’s vocal energy might come to a drawl one day. However he is young and still has time on his hand!

Ride on ... SLAM!

Excitement went unabated as Ray Power 100.5 FM came on air in 1993, so followed by Minaj Broadcast International as a counter to its television arm, African Independent Television. But these heralds of private media broadcast ownership just like their prints counterparts have not in any way changed the lot of the

Nigerian journalist nor producers. Even as it would have served the purpose of their owners in self aggrandisement or ill-prepared venturesomeness; and there remains the social impact that media people are doing a good job guarding popular interest therefore ensuring social accountability.

I was not into it yet. I simply longed to be in, but it meant breaking out of some of the confinements in order to be professionally part of the exciting world of private broadcast media. The major reason why I would miss all the excitement was simply because Nigeria's university system had and might still have a way of making knowledge gained from training impracticable. That is to say vocation which is the greatest need for a communication media scholar to possess was simply absent in my skills as a Communication Arts graduate from one those hurriedly contrived campuses. Therefore an average employer would spot the difference between mass communication and communication arts.

I could not even become a professional music artiste, because I did not acquire enough skill to even think of surviving in Lagos, where Ray Power 100.5, Nigeria's premier private radio station took off. The airwaves was saturated with the voices of the likes of Steve Kadiri, Kenny Ogungbe and D1 on the brand new radio. They seemed to have become replacements for the like of Jones Usen, of Radio Nigeria 3.I simply gave up after trying to corner Jones to listen to me at a friends place, while he was new in retirement. That was about the time Ray Power increased my longing to be in broadcasting..

The publishing firm I worked for simply made things worse. On a salary of USD$30, by today's equivalent, I could not even cope with a traveling allowance of about USD40, to cover three states in the enchanting North-East zone of Nigeria. But in every two weeks I would cover the zone to sell a government sponsored publication to corrupt local council civil servants, who could divide an average subscription fee of about USD1,800 under the table. My colleagues were deep into, while I carried on dreaming just to work for a broadcast media outfit. I resigned in protest after spending more than a month in Damaturu, capital of Yobe, without adequate nutrition, and surviving off Potiskum girl., whom I had sex with every other night.

It was simply the trend amongst entry level corporate graduates of the mid to late 90s. Bosses owed salaries up to six months; and in the media where I belong salary arrears simply ran up to six months. My boss could not see any reason why I reached him home at to get my salary, for the Easter celebration of 1998. General Abacha was in power, after General Babangida stepped aside for a civilian stooge; and life was not not easy. Quartered at a very high monthly rent of USD8 a month in a YMCA block, I got kicked out of a friends apartment, when I could not afford it any longer. On the street again like it was in the very early 90s, I finally put up with a friend from the same ethnic group.

I wrote for the Diet Newspapers founded by the present Governor Of Delta State South-South zone;, whose sole aim for setting up, might have been to promote his political ambition,

I arrived Lagos, fare fully paid by Minaj Broadcast International's Executive Vice Chairman, who appealed in the sweetest of voices that the broadcast outfit needed me more than ever. Not minding the fact that back in Enugu, where Minaj Cable operated I heard stories of how staff were owed salary. I simply ignored that tradition common to most broadcast media houses in Nigeria. Except may be Channels Television, where the policy is all about small size and professional management. So after the ceremonies of interviews and being applauded for my brilliant answers, I came to get to used to be owed salary in the first three months after resumption. It is no secret and it is a lot of pain, that the media in Nigeria, especially the private one are simply ruining the lives of talented Nigerians. Therefore there is a certain peculiarity.

It is simply the fact some older professionals, who left units like the government Nigerian Television Authority or Federal Radio Corporation, before the Obasanjo government, because of non-payment of salaries flooded the private ones like Minaj and AIT. Regarded as experienced they might still be occupied with misappropriating money for their selfish gains. Moreso the moment the owners of these outfits realise this, they also device means of taking away any money coming in via commercials. Another factor responsible is the issue of ethnic politicking. The owners of private media were at a point under real pressure from the extended families to employ their kinsmen, who might know next to nothing about the profession. Therefore everyone including their kinsmen get occupied with diverting company income. Hence discrimination and fraud may come to remain Nigeria's private media most potent enemies. An average media professional suffers and sometimes gets ruined by these two factors. That is notwithstanding they are also the prime culprits in Nigeria's bad fortunes.

Indeed journalists, who do well in Nigeria, might simply be for luck or strong patronage by the economic and political powers. And it is less dangerous, only now that democracy may have enhanced the performance of the media, especially in the post-Abacha era. And going back in time we can remember when Dele Giwa the Editor-in-Chief of Newswatch Magazine was bombed. But that would help radicalize the practice, which became really potent from 1999.

On the whole media people are doing a good job, though surviving mainly on patronage. We are exacting social impact that has however not been really effective because of low income for the professional and even the establishments. Many communication schools graduates have come to find jobs, though they hardly get paid for a job that a few serious one do. But the few conscientious one are simply carrying the flag of media practice in Nigeria.

By Efefiong Akpan - Sixfei.mediabroadcast.com Lagos Nigeria.

There is a certain ether between African- American and original African sensibilities. And because one could easily feel it in the soul, music becomes the expressive platform. Moreso nothing has really been lost ever since African-Americans finally got delivered by the sacrificing of Malcolm X and Martin Luther King, Jr. These were felled in the sixties, when the likes of James Brown, The godfather of Soul and Fela Anikulapokuti, Nigeria's King of Afro-Beat founded their pervasive music idioms.

‘Enthusiastic’ would always be the celebration of Valentines Day in Nigeria in the mass media.

Rather than focusing on St. Valentine loving the poor or the church healing the sick, instead people become most focused on erotic love – sometimes for a one night stand, sometimes to sustain relationships. But it remains to be seen how the media professional fairs with love, marriage and family with or without Valentine. Maybe, unless a journalist is off duty, it would be assumed he or she enjoyed the immediate Val-night. But, given media lifestyle, off duty I must confess could well be the same like on-duty, when it comes to matters of romance, love, sex and maybe marriage. After all does one really have a life of his own outside the business of programing or news production?

I spent Val-night in the newsroom at my broadcast station, hooked like an addict to this life. And yeah! I was not surprised at the libidinous celebrations on the broadcast media on

But by no estimation was I prepared for the Vals in the in the print media. Meaning and purpose from these sources simply put me in a plastic state. My only reaction if you ask me was a flexible continuum in the erection I had from time to time. Thinking where to find an agreeable point between the two, I stumbled on the issue of marriage. And that was when I thought it would be nice to have a woman, a wife. So whenever I read about one divorce or another, I simply think marriage could not really work for media professionals. Please prove me wrong or right!

Well to some Valentine Day celebration may well mean marriage; after all in the heat of sexual exhibitionism, you could get tied up with the right chemistry and physical spark. But I seem to think love, could happen behind a backdrop of a broadcast studio. It is not my experience, but friends and enemies have said they once had bumpy rides; even had orgasms just when the presenter dropped the last word about dead bodies in an Iraqi bomb attack. Therefore if such things happen at movie shoots too, can you imagine how many adulterous nights media people spend under klieg lights? Now as we all enjoy joyous romps behind cameras – and maybe for some in front – could we not think of a Valentine Day special? That is what I watched on my chosen channel (other than CNN, Sky or BBC).

It brings up the question whether the message is the media or the other way: in other words, could sex professionalize the media? It is okay if you think the media caused sexual libretto, written by some loony, who probably saw that sex is the hottest piece, most marketable on the internet too. Let us say it was the media that re-invented sex. It could not have been others but media professionals who put sex on the mass media simply have a rare privilege. Therefore going by that may be we in the media are crazy about sex, enh? But if we are simply reflecting the society, then everyone is simply sexed up! Did you believe it is us in the media that are crazy about sex?

I wonder what kind of argument would differentiate a media sex vixen from the other on the street. Meantime, what about an oversexed housewife, sex hungry Roman Catholic priest, who attacks children or the joyriding sex-driven teenager. Beckon on the next starved human, you would not need Valentine Day to knock it off.

But Valentine Day was and will always be. Maybe till we have a re-think about love, romance, marriage and family. Not even HIV/AIDS might change the media-driven concept of sex, I tell you. It is for sale, whether in movies, music or just hardcore XXX-sites on the net. The net gain is always money and orgasm. Therefore when my girlfriend, Ifeoma, strolled into the newsroom, I could only just manage to reposition my erection.

For the much I could remember of our relationship I needed to book a hotel room in the neighbourhood of our TV station. I only thought she was playing games, because even on my off-days, any request that we could go do it through three-hours in the absence of my flat mate, would always be played down with her having choir practice. You know Saturday is my day my man. My off day yo! But, some days before that Valentine night, I became uppity and proposed marriage, which seems to be the only way to get most female professionals, especially those in the media, playing that game. She was like actually gamed, but given the condition of my member, I supposed she suspected it was just for the kill and nothing more. And so she coyly fired back that wanted to be sure whether my people would like her for my wife – you know, in Nigeria, it matters a lot where you come from and who you get married to.

But meanwhile both of us never took our eyes of the vixens romping away on the screen. Can't even remember the title but I was getting uncomfortable about my erection increasing and diminishing every now and then. Hoping on one hand she would feel the same way and give in, but praying that my discomfort should not be noticed.

Before the end of the movie, when the 'stars' had used all the strong languages, gone nude and had all the imaginable orgasms in the world, my girl just strolled out and headed to the ladies-room. I didn’t know whether to for what, but she was gone for quite some time. But I turned on the air-conditioner and open my legs to give it a breather. It did help! Because by the time she got back I was watching either BBC, CNN or Sky.

Somehow my thoughts wondered and my inner premium assailed my sense of reasoning. For I have been in love strongly when my first attempt to have sex with Ifeoma failed. I fell in love with the woman I still love today.

Quiet and resigned, I believed I had found my all. But we had a quarrel that turned out my apologizing would be a follow up to our coming closer as contemporaries. I had a better idea and love was that most fundamental treasure of mine. At first she seemed reluctant, but needed an ethnic brother to prove I could be the man. So on that note we understood ourselves. But Amaka loves secrecy, and in fact that modesty which is quite unusual in the media profession may have really proven that she is a lady.

However I also know that Amaka loves good things. But very unlike Queennette, whom I also flirted with, she does not really say it loud and clearly. The two have been jokers in my poker game for two years now. You know Queennette just loves that fact that I could be rich being a talented script/copywriter-producer for the station. A fact Amaka told someone else, but that typical of the Nigerian media space, management was not making any effort to harness. I was not surprised because for two years she has enjoyed reading my love poems. Yet she would not think about marrying me.

But at a point she began to behave like we could build romance, love and sex, then see whether marriage could actually come to be. It would be a waiting game. And I did not quite like that, because my yearning then and now is to become a father. And with a woman like Amaka, intelligent and hardworking (even if she is pretending modesty), is simply my kind of wife material. I always tell my colleagues that I could not marry a dunce. The reason why I challenged Queennette and may be prompted her to gain a masters degree recently. Wow! I keep on wondering if I ever really inspired that. Exactly the kind of project I have spent money scouring the internet to get a media training grant from the UK or USA for Amaka for a long time. Maybe a strategy to actually show how I love her, but she has been inspired lately to join an NGO Journalist Against HIV/AIDS, possibly hoping to get out there and use her brilliance as well.

In the course of waiting for Amaka to really make up her mind, I thought I could warm up to Queennette as a security just in case the former failed. But you know sex is as hot as the next oven cake; words soon got around that I was dating Queennette. That was a mistake: as Amaka was beginning to really warm up, she found out. She dismissed me with some finality. She said we could not marry me, because there was a guy, whom she would not dare dump! Well I would not blame her; I asked for it. I should have been a little more careful and patient.

So three weeks to the last Val, she went on leave. Therefore I came to that Val night a hungry man. Yes emotionally and physically. One would not blame me for wanting a romp with Ifeoma. After all I would not know whom Amaka was with. But I was advised to send a Val card on the net by one of those busy-body sympathizers. When she returned last week, she seemed sobered. I keep wondering what to do.

The odds are most TV girls want men with cash. But most TV men are the poorest of the lot professionals in Nigeria. I keep wondering why Christian Ammanpour waited to get married at forty. I keep dreaming Amaka is Christian Ammanpour, and she could wait for the cash to role in or the job to spare me. Help!

Aha! I will not forget Greg my friend. My guy has over the last two years of my frantic efforts to gain Amaka, been involved too. He is proposing we travel to Makurdi, Benue State really soon to effect his traditional marriage to Iveren. Both are growing broadcasters, and you know he reads news for Nigeria's biggest TV network, Nigerian Television Authority. They were both with in Minaj Broadcast International, and he ended his contract when she left for Channels Television.

Greg and Iveren's is a case of two young people in their twenties trying to beat traditional consents from parents to marry. But no… If I start gossiping these two pals of mine on the net, it might mean that I am not being discreet. I have always told Greg that Amaka might fear that when it comes to actual marriage her people – who are Igbos – may never accept me a s a son-in-law – an Ibibio . Well yes! Ethnic prejudice is still very strong in Nigeria. May be when politicians learn to just be Nigerians, the journalist apart from low pay may also overcome ethnicity.

‘Enthusiastic’ would always be the celebration of Valentines Day in Nigeria in the mass media.

Rather than focusing on St. Valentine loving the poor or the church healing the sick, instead people become most focused on erotic love – sometimes for a one night stand, sometimes to sustain relationships. But it remains to be seen how the media professional fairs with love, marriage and family with or without Valentine. Maybe, unless a journalist is off duty, it would be assumed he or she enjoyed the immediate Val-night. But, given media lifestyle, off duty I must confess could well be the same like on-duty, when it comes to matters of romance, love, sex and maybe marriage. After all does one really have a life of his own outside the business of programing or news production?

I spent Val-night in the newsroom at my broadcast station, hooked like an addict to this life. And yeah! I was not surprised at the libidinous celebrations on the broadcast media on

But by no estimation was I prepared for the Vals in the in the print media. Meaning and purpose from these sources simply put me in a plastic state. My only reaction if you ask me was a flexible continuum in the erection I had from time to time. Thinking where to find an agreeable point between the two, I stumbled on the issue of marriage. And that was when I thought it would be nice to have a woman, a wife. So whenever I read about one divorce or another, I simply think marriage could not really work for media professionals. Please prove me wrong or right!

Well to some Valentine Day celebration may well mean marriage; after all in the heat of sexual exhibitionism, you could get tied up with the right chemistry and physical spark. But I seem to think love, could happen behind a backdrop of a broadcast studio. It is not my experience, but friends and enemies have said they once had bumpy rides; even had orgasms just when the presenter dropped the last word about dead bodies in an Iraqi bomb attack. Therefore if such things happen at movie shoots too, can you imagine how many adulterous nights media people spend under klieg lights? Now as we all enjoy joyous romps behind cameras – and maybe for some in front – could we not think of a Valentine Day special? That is what I watched on my chosen channel (other than CNN, Sky or BBC).

It brings up the question whether the message is the media or the other way: in other words, could sex professionalize the media? It is okay if you think the media caused sexual libretto, written by some loony, who probably saw that sex is the hottest piece, most marketable on the internet too. Let us say it was the media that re-invented sex. It could not have been others but media professionals who put sex on the mass media simply have a rare privilege. Therefore going by that may be we in the media are crazy about sex, enh? But if we are simply reflecting the society, then everyone is simply sexed up! Did you believe it is us in the media that are crazy about sex?

I wonder what kind of argument would differentiate a media sex vixen from the other on the street. Meantime, what about an oversexed housewife, sex hungry Roman Catholic priest, who attacks children or the joyriding sex-driven teenager. Beckon on the next starved human, you would not need Valentine Day to knock it off.

But Valentine Day was and will always be. Maybe till we have a re-think about love, romance, marriage and family. Not even HIV/AIDS might change the media-driven concept of sex, I tell you. It is for sale, whether in movies, music or just hardcore XXX-sites on the net. The net gain is always money and orgasm. Therefore when my girlfriend, Ifeoma, strolled into the newsroom, I could only just manage to reposition my erection.

For the much I could remember of our relationship I needed to book a hotel room in the neighbourhood of our TV station. I only thought she was playing games, because even on my off-days, any request that we could go do it through three-hours in the absence of my flat mate, would always be played down with her having choir practice. You know Saturday is my day my man. My off day yo! But, some days before that Valentine night, I became uppity and proposed marriage, which seems to be the only way to get most female professionals, especially those in the media, playing that game. She was like actually gamed, but given the condition of my member, I supposed she suspected it was just for the kill and nothing more. And so she coyly fired back that wanted to be sure whether my people would like her for my wife – you know, in Nigeria, it matters a lot where you come from and who you get married to.

But meanwhile both of us never took our eyes of the vixens romping away on the screen. Can't even remember the title but I was getting uncomfortable about my erection increasing and diminishing every now and then. Hoping on one hand she would feel the same way and give in, but praying that my discomfort should not be noticed.

Before the end of the movie, when the 'stars' had used all the strong languages, gone nude and had all the imaginable orgasms in the world, my girl just strolled out and headed to the ladies-room. I didn’t know whether to for what, but she was gone for quite some time. But I turned on the air-conditioner and open my legs to give it a breather. It did help! Because by the time she got back I was watching either BBC, CNN or Sky.

Somehow my thoughts wondered and my inner premium assailed my sense of reasoning. For I have been in love strongly when my first attempt to have sex with Ifeoma failed. I fell in love with the woman I still love today.

Quiet and resigned, I believed I had found my all. But we had a quarrel that turned out my apologizing would be a follow up to our coming closer as contemporaries. I had a better idea and love was that most fundamental treasure of mine. At first she seemed reluctant, but needed an ethnic brother to prove I could be the man. So on that note we understood ourselves. But Amaka loves secrecy, and in fact that modesty which is quite unusual in the media profession may have really proven that she is a lady.

However I also know that Amaka loves good things. But very unlike Queennette, whom I also flirted with, she does not really say it loud and clearly. The two have been jokers in my poker game for two years now. You know Queennette just loves that fact that I could be rich being a talented script/copywriter-producer for the station. A fact Amaka told someone else, but that typical of the Nigerian media space, management was not making any effort to harness. I was not surprised because for two years she has enjoyed reading my love poems. Yet she would not think about marrying me.

But at a point she began to behave like we could build romance, love and sex, then see whether marriage could actually come to be. It would be a waiting game. And I did not quite like that, because my yearning then and now is to become a father. And with a woman like Amaka, intelligent and hardworking (even if she is pretending modesty), is simply my kind of wife material. I always tell my colleagues that I could not marry a dunce. The reason why I challenged Queennette and may be prompted her to gain a masters degree recently. Wow! I keep on wondering if I ever really inspired that. Exactly the kind of project I have spent money scouring the internet to get a media training grant from the UK or USA for Amaka for a long time. Maybe a strategy to actually show how I love her, but she has been inspired lately to join an NGO Journalist Against HIV/AIDS, possibly hoping to get out there and use her brilliance as well.

In the course of waiting for Amaka to really make up her mind, I thought I could warm up to Queennette as a security just in case the former failed. But you know sex is as hot as the next oven cake; words soon got around that I was dating Queennette. That was a mistake: as Amaka was beginning to really warm up, she found out. She dismissed me with some finality. She said we could not marry me, because there was a guy, whom she would not dare dump! Well I would not blame her; I asked for it. I should have been a little more careful and patient.

So three weeks to the last Val, she went on leave. Therefore I came to that Val night a hungry man. Yes emotionally and physically. One would not blame me for wanting a romp with Ifeoma. After all I would not know whom Amaka was with. But I was advised to send a Val card on the net by one of those busy-body sympathizers. When she returned last week, she seemed sobered. I keep wondering what to do.

The odds are most TV girls want men with cash. But most TV men are the poorest of the lot professionals in Nigeria. I keep wondering why Christian Ammanpour waited to get married at forty. I keep dreaming Amaka is Christian Ammanpour, and she could wait for the cash to role in or the job to spare me. Help!

Aha! I will not forget Greg my friend. My guy has over the last two years of my frantic efforts to gain Amaka, been involved too. He is proposing we travel to Makurdi, Benue State really soon to effect his traditional marriage to Iveren. Both are growing broadcasters, and you know he reads news for Nigeria's biggest TV network, Nigerian Television Authority. They were both with in Minaj Broadcast International, and he ended his contract when she left for Channels Television.

Greg and Iveren's is a case of two young people in their twenties trying to beat traditional consents from parents to marry. But no… If I start gossiping these two pals of mine on the net, it might mean that I am not being discreet. I have always told Greg that Amaka might fear that when it comes to actual marriage her people – who are Igbos – may never accept me a s a son-in-law – an Ibibio . Well yes! Ethnic prejudice is still very strong in Nigeria. May be when politicians learn to just be Nigerians, the journalist apart from low pay may also overcome ethnicity.