Yoruba Fail

Oh man, this looks like it’s gonna be a good day. Even though there’s a meeting in the bank job’s vacant building today, I’m in my MDX chilling. Upon recommendation from an old acquaintance in Brooklyn, I’m listening to an album I’ve never heard before: Joni Mitchell’s Blue. Canadians make some good music. I’ll be in the MDX for most of the day and it’s okay because the 2nd row fits my 6’2” frame perfectly. Ugh, this feels so good. The weather is a perfect 60 degrees. If that idiot Kylie Ray pays the $415 of back rent at 5:30pm, this will be as close to a perfect day as I’m gonna get.

One would think that, with all this free time at the bank job today, I would be studying my Yoruba. But I have to admit that I’ve given up on learning the language. I just can’t stay motivated enough, and I’ve tried everything. I bought the book, I’ve downloaded a Yoruba app, I’ve tried to watch the movies, and I’ve listened to Nigerian songs… I’ve even watched Nigerian porn. Nothing keeps my interest. This has to be the first time in a long while that I couldn’t force myself to do something. With the trip to Nigeria about 3 months away, I think I’m just gonna concentrate on all the cuss words, so I know when someone’s talking shit about me. I’ll learn words like idiot, pompous, crazy, mentally challenged, useless, cheap, and asshole—all the things I’m sure I would say under my breath if I lived in Nigeria and had met someone like me. I’m not completely giving up on learning the language, but I’m not going to try hard at it anymore. I have no real interest right now, and I think I know why.

I’m honestly not interested in going to Nigeria. I definitely wanna see where my parents Rita and Roy grew up and take a look at the properties they separately own. But that’s about it. I don’t wanna meet the extended family that’s gonna have their hands out asking for this and that. My dad Roy recently told me that I have to make sure I give his sister money. When I asked how much he said, “Whatever you feel is appropriate.” I asked him what the hell that means and he just said that over and over again. Let’s see, she’s given me no money and helped me in no possible way so… I think it’s appropriate that she gets NOTHING. I’ll also be completely out of my element, and subject to the rules and regulations of a country that’s notorious for scams. Nigeria is famous for their corrupt society, with police pulling people over for bribes and… look, I know I’m focusing on the bad things about Nigeria and there are probably a lot of good things, but I can’t help it right now. I think my subconscious is waiting to see how the trip to Nigeria goes before it allows me to take learning Yoruba seriously. I mean, what’s the point of learning the language of a place that I will end up hating and never go to again? And would speaking to my parents in Yoruba really be a good thing? If they know I speak the language fluently, they’ll talk to me more. I’m trying to cut our conversations down to once a month, and that won’t help.

One of the biggest reasons I’m gonna hate going to Nigeria besides the money, the long plane ride, the people with their hands out, and the famously corrupt society is that I’ll be away from my kids… my properties. Smalltown is my home and I’m just starting to do good here. Now I have to leave for 10 days and hope that nothing goes wrong at properties Alpha, Beta, Charlie and Chi. I like being here. I’m in control here. I’m building something here. I like learning the language of real estate and property management much more than learning Yoruba at this point.

Maybe I’ll go there and really enjoy myself. Maybe I’ll be inspired and study Yoruba the second I get back. Maybe I’ll regain interest once I stop trying so hard. Maybe. But right now, the Yoruba books stay at home and my sole focus is still making money in Smalltown.