Eating in Persia

Where to eat? that was the question..Cunningham, Ashmawy and I took the trip by Metro from Sunnyland to Newcastle in order to taste the flavours of Lebanon. We reached the restaurant and walked in, the smell from the kitchen was heavenly, I don't know what spice it was, but it was tantalizing, the kind of smell I want to smell forever (okay...maybe not forever, but you get the point) The problem was the the Lebanese restaurant was booked out, it was a small place, and it was packed full! We were told we had to wait 45 mins in order to get a seat...we couldn't wait that long, we were absolutely famished. Ashmawy decided to speak to the Maitre'D in Arabic..we thought we might get special treatment by culturally aligning ourselves with him: That didn't work!
We didn't have the patience to wait 45 mins, so we decided to look elsewhere, we passed by a Spanish restaurant with absolutely no one inside. Passed an Italian, but the last time we three dined together it was Italian, moreover we had an apetite for the flavours of the Middle East.
The closest thing we saw was Greek! Not the Middle East, but still found in the Bible so it counts as 'one of them' We entered without properly looking at the food prices....we were shown our seats and were about to sit down before William (who had his characteristic worried look on his face) quipped 'Guys, we gotta go', but how? It would be slightly embarrasing to just up and leave when confronted with the menu! So we came up with a story, we said we had to go fetch more friends, so we'd be back in a bit. And off we went.
There it was, a diamond in the rough! 'Ali Baba' restaurant (forgive the rather childish name) serving the finest Persian dishes (Persian is Iranian for those that don't know). We went inside, the ambience was lush, I loved it, we loved it, we sat.
The waiter had bragged about the size of the dishes, challenging us as to whether we could finish it. The starters were huge, well at least William's and mine were (we ordered Koofteh..lamb meatballs) Ashmawy had stuffed Vine Leaves..and he wasn't stuffed (bad pun, but it had to be done)
My main course was a meal called 'Ghormeh Sabzi'...absolutely amazing! leek, parsley, spinach and coriander. This mixture is cooked with kidney beans, green onions, chives, dried limes, and lamb meat. It is then served with Basmati rice. I thoroughly enjoyed it!..I'll definately be going back
The price was right as well!


Ali Baba Restaurant
7-9 Bigg Market
Newcastle upon Tyne, NE1 1UN

Azin's blog :)

As promised, Azin's blog should be up and running by today...I can't wait to read it! Don't disappoint me Azin!

Happy Poetry

It has dawned on me that my recent poems have always been gloomy, talking about the dark part of humanity, and the nasty aspects of people. Not just my poems, but that of people in my circle of poets.
So I put pen to paper to write a poem that was happy, or at least about happy things, what else brings as much joy as the great Sun.
Ladies and Gentlemen I present to you my latest poem:

Sunshine and Daisies
by Julian Obubo

The bright rays of the Sun
they beam themselves through the slits of my blinds
I, blinded by the light
make my way to the window
to let in the Sun
Vishnu has awoken
Amun-Ra asserts his presence
Peace on earth
The little plants begin photosynthesis
That's what our teachers tell us
The Sun
Source of all Power
The earth is but a little sphere
hurridly making its way around her
Great Hot Mother of all
and at night, rest she does
so her children, the stars, come out and play
under the watchful eye of their sister: Selene
Morning will come
Morning always comes
and rise she must

and as for Daisies?
They are pretty

The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency

On Easter Sunday, the show that I'd been waiting for finally aired on BBC One: "The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency" Directed by the late great Anthony Minghella, who died only a week before its airing, and starring soul superstar turned actress Jill Scott, Anika Noni Rose of Dreamgirls fame, Lucien Msamati, Idris Elba and an amazing performance from David Oyewole.
The show is based on a novel by Alexander McCall Smith, about a woman Precious Ramotswe, who sets up a detective agency in Gabarone, Botswana. She goes about solving crimes and mysteries, ranging from kidnapped kids to unfaithful husbands.
The BBC is commissioning 13 episodes to begin airing in 2009! Long time....but I'll wait!

Anyway, the program was packed full of quotable quotes, here are my favourite:

"Now I'm getting a slight smell of fish in my nostrils"

"What about my laptop, my Bluetooth, my Boombox!"

"Overtime! Overtime! What about Undertime!"

"On my knees, with my eyes closed, and my lips parted"

"Ouchy Wowchy!"

"Wednesday, Friday, still Ouchy Wowchy!"

"I suspect this is not a case for which we would be receiving payment"

"The boy better have all his fingers, I will count them"

"Would you perhaps marry me then?"

May I also commend the beautiful Jill Scott on her acting, and perfection of the Botswanan accent (sometimes Americaness seeped out, but it was largely on point)

In Londres

Yes, I'm in London, since Wednesday. I had a work placement interview with top PR firm Taylor Herring. They handle the PR of popstars Robbie Williams & Leona Lewis, they have done work for Virgin TV, MTV....they are one of the best.
And here I was; suited and booted, in a black pinstripe suit, cufflinks and tie-clip, holding the Metro newspaper in my hand (I should have bought my fav: The Guardian), sitting in the foyer of a Portakabin, yes this prestigious PR firm was based in a portable building. I looked around the busy offices, almost everyone was chattering away on the phone., one thing then dawned on me: I was severely overdressed. Everyone else walked about in jeans, hoodies, dirty sneakers, and there I was, looking like The Godfather.
A lady came up to me and handed me a preliminary questionnaire. I looked at it and gasped...it was full of British popular culture questions: Who is Amy Winehouse's husband?..What channel shows Britains Next Top Model?? What was Robbie Williams' last album called?? What was the headline on today's Sun newspaper??...I managed to answer a few..I sat there with my glass of water, staring into emptiness. I was then called in, and the interview process began.
Actually, it wasn't really an interview, it was just a short chat about my daily routine, magazines I read, hobbies, I guess they were trying to assess my intake and awareness of popular and celebrity culture. It was then I understood what my PR lecturer meant by 'Taylor Herring are not people you go quoting PR books to'
In about 10 mins, the chat was up, and I was told I would be informed about the result in the next three weeks.
The interview was over at 11:00....and I was in a suit..what was I to do??..I had an idea: Go to Canary Wharf and walk amongst bankers, stock brokers, insurance folks...and just have a feel of 'The Life'...and I did just that, hopped on the Underground and went to Canary Wharf, where I blended right in, people in suits and ties walking about, talking about money, eating bagels and drinking coffee, talking about profit, sipping organic juice and crunching apples, talking about capital.
I walked with them, my head aloft...I was one of them..I was a Yuppie!

Mandingo

My newest poem, on the colonization of Africa and the subjugation of the black man.

Listen
Hear the Drums of the Mandinka
Hear the clapping hands
the naked feet on the dry soil
See the women in frenzied joy
Unbridled emotion
Hail Mandingo

Hail Mandingo
The African warrior
The Slayer of the Lion
with his bare hands
Hail Mandingo
King of the bush

Listen
Hear the Canons of the British
Hear their cocking guns
thier booted feet on the decks
See the soldiers in frenzied joy
Unbridled emotion
Hail Smith

Hail Smith
The British Warrior
The Slayer of the Lion
with his shotgun
Hail Smith
King of Africa

Blast from the Past

Me at about 7/8 months I guess. Just chillin' on the sofa, smiling at the contraption that was capturing my image.

New Look

Once again I have decided to refurbish my blog, doing away with the green and going instead for Cool Blue. I love it, and I hope you do too!

Nigeria Dreamin Part II

"When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I felt as a child, I thought as a child. Now that I have become a man, I have put away childish things."

1 Corinthians 13:11

Sex, that three letter word, perhaps the most baffling concept ever known to a child. So many euphemisms concealed the deed that was Sex. The euphemism that confused me most was : Sleep. My Grandma in one of her many stories would say: "She slept with him, and became pregnant" This led me to believe, quite strongly that a woman became pregnant when she slept in the same bed with a man. It was rather simple, but also rather strange, however my young innocent mind did not question it. Somehow, merely sharing the same bed with an adult man caused a human being to start growing inside the 'belly' of the woman. It was quite logical!
On Sex and the church, I'm sure I was not the only one in Sunday school, sitting there wondering what on earth a 'Virgin' was. Mary was always refered to as the 'Virgin' Mary, initially I thought it was her first name, but I noticed that we sometimes said "Born of a Virgin", this meant that a 'Virgin' was something special, something rare, to me a Virgin was a woman who gives birth to special babies like Jesus. Therefore, the whole concept of the 'Annunciation' was lost to us kids, as a key term: "Virgin" was not explained.
Pregnancy was pretty straightfoward as a youngster, the process was simple, a woman had slept on the same bed as a man, and had 'taken in' as my Grandma would say, therefore, a little baby was growing inside of her for some time till it was strong enough to come out...when that time came, she went to hospital and miraculously appeared one or two days later, with a flatter belly and a little baby. What took place at the hospital remained a mystery. My belief was that every women underwent a cesarean to remove the baby, that was the only logical explanation, surely there wasn't any orifice in the body that a human being could naturally come out of. This was my strong belief, but it was always tested when I would hear of women giving birth to babies at home, in the market, in a car...where was the knife? where was the doctor? How was this possible!?
It was when I was rumaging through my Dad's medical books that I saw the process of childbirth illustrated, still it looked very strange and unnatural, the books were telling me that the baby came out of the woman's "underparts"!! (as a child the woman's reproductuve organs were nameless, boy's had penises and what women had was of no concern) I still mantained my belief in cesarean till I saw a video of childbirth, an image that will stay in my head forever, a human being coming out of what till then was a very small hole...the child emerged slimy and looking alien, with a cord attached to it's belly. I had thought children were born clean, with no attachments, and only needed to be clothed.
Finally on the issue of sexuality, the big puzzle as a child: What the hell was a condom? The adverts were so obscure and ambiguous, they kept refering to the condom as a 'raincoat'...a raincoat in a small packet? I was confused. What was this condom thing? Was it edible? Was it some kind of toy? In supermarkets I saw the condoms stacked on the shelves, no one ever seemed to buy them, I knew how the packets looked, but the real issue was what was inside! Why did the adverts not explicitly tell us what was inside the packet? The condom was perhaps the greatest childhood mystery.
But now, old me, the innocence of childhood washed away by the harsh tides of reality. I look back at childhood, at how simple things were, diminished responsibilities, no stress, your life was in your parents hands, and sometimes I wish I had that guiding hand constantly steering me in the right direction, but, such is life. At last the time comes when the parent exits the cockpit, and the son becomes a man and has to fly that plane to its final destination.

Bradford

Back from Bradford, had an amazing time as usual, a bit sad that my camera card is not working, which means I cannot view or upload all the pictures I took. In fact, I need to get a new card, so still very bitter about that whole issue. Varsity tomorrow, Teesside comes up and gets beaten by Sunderland. I'm just getting ready now, a more extensive report on Bradford later.

Beret...or Does this make me look like Thomas Sankara?

I went to the Army and Navy surplus store today and got myself a beret. Oh yes! (and yes I pull my beret to the left like the French do)

Coconut

I was wandering through Tesco yesterday and came up to the fruit aisle, I was feeling odd and decided to get an exotic tropical fruit, my first thought was: Mango! but then I recalled that I usually get tummy trouble after eating it..I then thought about Avocado, but I had eaten that a few weeks ago...I scanned the aisle, and my eyes fell on this round, brown, hard fruit...with hair! yes The Coconut. I picked it up and checked out.
When I got home I picked the coconut and stared at it, I asked myself two questions. Firstly, with the absence of a hammer, how on earth was I going to break it open? and then How could I incorporate coconut into my meal?....I also asked myself other questions like Who was the first person to eat a coconut? I mean he or she must have been stranded on an island with absolutely no food, just coconut trees and large stones.
Well, Tesco advises to use the blunt end of a very large knife and hit the coconut at its widest point. I do not endorse this method, as it involves a large blade pointed at your face. If you wanna eat coconut, go to Tesco and get it, then go to hardware store and get a hammer.
Well, I tried the Tesco method and all it did was mess up the kitchen, with coconut hair flying everywhere. My flatmate Vishal (who is less scared of big knives) managed to half the coconut using this method, I then proceeded to break the halves into smaller pieces using our kitchen wall..it worked.
What was left was to seperate the endosperm (or Coconut meat as it is known, but I prefer coconut white....as it does not look like, taste like, or feel like meat) from the husk, this proved a daunting task, and involved us Googooling (notice the extra 'oo' after the 'l', this is to prevent you pronouncing it -Goog-Ling', and since 'Googleing' would add to confusion, I have come up with 'Googooling- Smart!)methods of removing the white from the husk...suggestions included getting 'Indian coconut scoopers from Calcutta'...we didn't have the time, but I had an idea. I decided to boil the pieces for about 20 minutes, this softened the white a bit, and it was much easier to scoop out.
I was eating the remnants of my whole chicken...actually it was still pretty much whole, just missing thighs and wings, so yes, I was eating that, and pasta. I grated the coconut and fried it with the breasts I had carved out, I also added some to the pasta, and it gave it a nice sweet tinge! Innovative!! So yes I had once again formed a new recipe "La Noix de Coco avec le Poulet et Pâtes" (never have recipe names in English it makes it sound normal...use a Latin language instead) which in English simply means "Coconut with chicken and pasta", now you see why French is better!

Unfortunately no pictures of this meal exist as I gobbled it up as soon as it was done.

Oh God I Love Cooking!

What do you wanna be when you grow up?

I remember this, in primary school, we were usually asked what we would like to be when we were older. As an eight-year old kid living in Nigeria there seemed to be two main professions, a doctor or an engineer. As a kid, I knew what a doctor did, but an engineer's job was a bit ambiguous, because all the engineers I knew were clean-cut old men, and what I knew as an engine was obviously a car engine, and the guys that worked on them were mechanincs, young muscular men, smelling of petrol and soiled with engine oil, that to me was an engineer, and that was hardly a job to aspire to have.
I think I was part of the 'doctor bandwagon' until I learnt of my dad's profession..."Agriculturist" (it will later become Agricultural Economist when we were old enough to have a vague idea of what economics was) Now that I had a father with an 'exotic' profession, I obviously assumed the title, and while my peers were busy shouting doctor, engineer, and the occasional teacher, I stood up calmly and said "When I grow up, I want to be an Agriculturist", the idea was simple, the more outlandish your desired profession was, the more respect you got from your peers. Doctors and teachers were mundane, but Agriculturists and Astronauts..now that was something.
Some other students had followed suit and asked their parents what they did, hoping to emulate them, this caused a bit of confusion as you had kids wanting to be 'Managers' 'Directors' and simply 'Officers' You also had the occasional child who had early illusions of grandeur, wishing to become a 'President'...or my favourite was "When I grow up, I want to be a King" The smarter students were quick to tell him that a King wasn't really a job, but he refused to budge, as far as he was concerned, why become a doctor, or a lawyer, when you could become the ruler of all: a King!
As I grew older, I went from doctor to agriculturist to marine biologist to lawyer to journalist to..well to this, studying Public Relations, and when I graduate in 2009, I hope, I hope...I hope to become a King!

Words from Jomo Kenyatta

"When the Missionaries arrived, the Africans had the Land and the Missionaries had the Bible. They taught how to pray with our eyes closed. When we opened them, they had the land and we had the Bible."

Julian O'bubo's Two Pan Method to making the perfect omelette

Do you strive for perfection? Do you want to make a circular omelette, but end up making scrambled egg? Do you think you can never make an omelette like you see in cookbooks? Well fear no more, for Julian O'Bubo (My Irish alter-ego) is here.
Through long research and dedicated dedication I have found a way to make the perfect omelette, it's called the 'Julian O'bubo Two Pan Method' Yes Two-pan method. As the name suggests you will need two non-stick frying pans. Mix your egg and ingredients (mushrooms, fish, chicken etc) in a mixing bowl and begin to fry, when the bottom of the mixture has hardened, get the other frying pan (with oil or butter in it...obviously) and turn the runny side of the omelette unto the other pan. When both sides are done, you my friend would have made the perfect omelette!

Please be careful....hot oil is involved.

Your omelette should vaguely resemble this:

If it doesn't look like this then you have messed up along the way, toss it in the bin and start again!

A New Era has begun

Forest Whitaker can sing!

You cannot embed the video, so click this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SqUlkb76Nr0


Simply Wow!

Clear and Present Danger

There is something about us humans, although we all fear danger (most of us at least) we are filled with a sense of pride and accomplishment when we go through a dangerous sitaution and come out unscathed.
There is nothing better than recalling various life and death situations at social gatherings, and the person with the bigger crash, or the biggest scar gets the the most attention.
This was the reason why I was slightly ticked off when I realised that the earthquake that hit the UK last Wednesday did not shake my building one bit. The next day at university I heard all these amazing stories about people waking up while their beds were moving, wardrobes flying open, clocks falling off walls...while me, I had nothing to tell, my night was totally uninterrupted, I was recieving texts messages and phone calls, and my reply was..I didn't feel anything. I was not the least bit pleased.
That aside, I have had my share of scary situations, I have said my last prayers on two occasions. Two frightening occassions. One of them occured last August while onboard a small propeller jet during a visit to Nigeria, the weather is notoriously bad during August, and propeller jets are notoriously fragile. We were about half-way into the flight, and light refreshments were served, I had a window seat, and my dad was seated to my right. I was admiring the Sun when the plane began to shake, I was slightly unnerved, but tried to keep my composure as I noticed no one seemed to take notice of this, it bothered me, and for the sake of masculinity I kept quiet, my dad who takes on average four flights a month kept smiling and saying that this type of turbulence was 'nothing', he told me stories of worse flights he had been on, with screaming people and the oxygen masks coming out of the ceiling compartments (things you only see in disaster movies and Discovery Channel) The stories of terrible turbulence seemed to calm my nerves a bit, and I continued eating my doughnut, while praying that we would land soon.
I think the Storm gods became aware of me calming down, and so increased the turbulence, the plane was now jerking, and people rushed to drink up their juices and wines. I could hear the whisper of prayers, this was bad, but it was to get a whole lot 'badder' My dad still had a smile on his face, I had a smile on my face as well, but "GOD PLEASE HELP ME!" was going through my mind, the smile on my dad's face was different, it was a smile of wierd excitement, like one would have on a roller-coaster ride. My dad was still joking, I was laughing, but I was not listening, my heart was racing, this was not the way I wanted to leave....SUDDENLY...the plane took a steep dive, I was convinced this was it, it had to be, red wine went off in the air and splashed on the overhead compartment. I began saying my last prayers, the emotions I could feel were more of anger than fear, yes I was afraid that we might crash and death might be slow, but I was angry at the tragic circumstances, my body may not be found, I will be reduced to a name on a list posted on an airport noticeboard.
The passengers had become vocal, prayers were uttered, Hail Marys were vehemntly recited, death was nigh.
After the plane steadied, I looked over to my dad, he still had a smile on his face, and was more concerned about the loss of his white wine than about the ordeal we just went through. I guess this was his unconventional way of calming everyone down, but what I wanted was assurance that I would not die. Nigeria's avaition record is not particularly clean, and I did not want to be a statistic.
My dad told me to take deep breaths, my upper body was still, but my legs were shaking like a fish out of water, I could actually hear my heart beating. The red wine began dripping on a gentleman seated in front, it was as if he was bleeding.
The whole plane was overcome with a kind of surreal calm, there was solidarity amongst all passengers as we prayed and hoped that we landed soon.
At last we were descending, a prayer was still on my lips....the runway came into view, a few hundred metres below, I was still praying, the pilot gave the announcement that we were about to land, I still wasn't content...not yet...until the plane came to a complete halt on the GROUND...intact.
We finally touched down and the passengers erupted in a cheer, there were handshakes and hugs, beaming smiles, and a few people still with a look of disbelief. I must have had a hybrid of joy and horror on my face, I was glad we had landed, but it was only when my feet felt the tarmac that my mind was completely at rest.
I had survived..and managed to keep my dignity by not reverting to frenzied supplications. A mild example of turbulence for some but bad enough for me.