This piece, though somewhat rambling in nature, attempts to capture my feelings about my two weeks stay at Washington DC, America’s capital city. It is more of a diary than an essay, sort of like what one would enter into ones daily journal about ones feelings about certain experiences one had. Those who could learn from this piece will learn from it, those who will not or cannot learn from it will not; people are at different stages in their mental and emotional developments and what is useful for some is noise for others.

US government regulations for cosmetics were developed over forty years ago when scientists believed that lotions and other products applied topically didn't have a significant impact on the body. At that time the skin was considered a protective barrier that prevented chemicals from entering the body.

Please, could somebody be nice to this hapless nation and walk across to President Umar Musa Yar'Adua's cosy castle in Aso Villa, where not a few believe he is still in bed enjoying a very refreshing midmorning sleep, wake him with a very gentle tap on his shoulder, and ask him what his reaction would likely be if he was suddenly roused from deep slumber with the tragic news that the Niger Bridge had collapsed

Perhaps those calling for the boycott do not know what they are doing to me. They want to put asunder to what God has joined together. The British Airways is my darling and nobody can separate us. I cannot live without my darling whom I fell in love with, before and even after I knew about her incorrigible character. It’s the BA that had helped transport my forefathers to the world of slavery in which I still embrace till today

If you are a teenager or if you are in your twenties and thirties, living abroad can be fun. But once past 40, life in a foreign land becomes tedious. Past 50, it becomes depressing. Past 60, it may drive you insane. Past 70, you may not know it, but others may know you are a walking-dead. There are certain things a six or seven figure salary cannot replace: the joy of being Home. It is why they hope that things will improve so reverse migration can begin.

My new found love and affinity for Americanism aside, I will always remember Nigeria. I will always love her. But the time has come for me to embrace all the opportunities, ideas and ideals that America has to offers. I work hard and pay my taxes, I obey the law by playing by the books, and I vote and engage in other civic duties. I do everything and believe in everything American. Why after all these years have I held myself back, limited myself from partaking in the American dream. It is never too late to begin now.

You see, I have been cheated and taken advantage of so many times by taxi drivers, market women and by my neighbors it is no longer fun being a novice, a Johnny Just Come. In fact, I get too many things wrong so much so it is beginning to bother me as my mistakes and miscalculations generally open me up to ridicule and exploitation. Haba, what’s a man to do? Please help with these questions and observations. First, how do I get rid of my Yankee Accent? Every time I open my mouth to speak, it gives me away.

I sometimes wonder why there has not been a revolution or some sort of popular uprising in Nigeria. It amazes me how millions and millions of Nigerians take this nonsense year after year after year. They must have thick skin and an enduring ability to bear hardship, pain, poverty and misery. Americans complain about every little inconvenience; but not so Nigerians, most of whom just walk around like the living dead.

Dogs and cats in America and Britain are even treated far better than most Nigerians who visit these embassies. I don’t know what the requirements are for gaining entry into the kingdom of God. But whatever the requirements are, they sure must be less stringent when compared to the sadistic hoops and loops at these embassies. In spite of all the abuse and dehumanizing treatments, we still flock to these embassies.

Twenty years is a long time to have stayed away. My absence wasn’t deliberate. It wasn’t planned. I didn’t set out on a voluntary exile. I had wanted to visit, but somehow, I have not been able to get myself into doing so. Things happen: I had difficulty obtaining an Alien Registration Card (greencard); and without a greencard, attending school became a problem; and without decent education, finding decent jobs became difficult. As you very well know, even after conquering those huddles, you just might lose your job. Once you lose your job, your sanity becomes shaky and in doubt.

.X-rayed in Malta; $100 before entering Rome; how many kilo do you carry into America? Furore in Amsterdam; Egyptian immigration deported two Nigerians on their way to England and Italy respectively; Rigorous Nigerian passport scrutiny at Hungarian International Ferihegy Airport.

During the encounter, I came close to saying to her what Donald Trump said of Rosie O’Donnell: “a slob…she's crude, she's tough, she's arrogant, she's pushy, and she’s disgusting. In certain ways she’s a degenerate.” She really was! One would think she was mad at the world, or that she hated her life and her job.There were other things I also wanted to say to her, but I kept my mouth shut, swallowed my pride.

The country recorded its first plane crash on November 20, 1969, when a government-owned DC-10 aircraft on a flight from London crash-landed in Lagos and killed all 87 passengers and crew on board. Between November 1969 and yesterday, at least 1000 persons have been killed in plane crashes involving Nigeria, Nigerians or Nigerian- operated aircrafts.

“Phew! Made it under somebody’s name. De plane’s full, so I had to buy from a tout. But hey, who cares? The aim is 2 get there, right? Anyway, I will call you later when we arrive. The Capt. said the weather is bad, so it will be a rough ride but hey, if he can fly, so can I”. - Bala Halilu, a passenger on the ill-fated Bellview Flight B210