Soccer Branding; The Story of European Soccer In Nigeria (2)

There is the story of a Manchester United fan, at home in Lagos, Nigeria, watching the epic final football match with Chelsea. Suddenly there was power outage. He did not have a standby electric generator to power his television set. Desperate not to miss any action in the match, he dashed into a hotel that has a viewing centre. Unfortunately, the place was thronged by Chelsea fans.

He burst into the centre shouting Man U for Life. The Chelsea supporters there promptly threw him out. Man U eventually won that match to the chagrin of Chelsea fans. Oh! Hell was almost let loose in Lagos metropolis. Man U fans celebrated, though in a subdued tempo because Chelsea supporters almost went on rampage. So many blames by the Chelsea fans. Oh! The referee was partial; there was not enough extra time; Didier Drogba did not play well enough; so many blames but the fact remained that Man U won on penalty kicks after both teams drew level at the end of extra time.

Come and see celebrations by Man U Fans. Three days later, they were still celebrating. Even married women joined in the fray. One madam, a Man U supporter threw open her restaurant and offered customers, ostensibly Man U fans, free drinks. The Man U fever is very strong in Nigeria. To say that Chelsea fans were… disappointed… that is being charitable; …bitter… yes, because that was the first time, I was told, their beloved club got very close to clinch the UEFA Cup. And they missed it.

Even the support for European clubs trickles down to families, sometimes breaching the peace at home, causing friction among children and creating challenges for parents in managing their childrens’ support for European soccer clubs

Take the story of my family of four sons (aged 17, 15, and 10) and a daughter who is just five, and does not know any club yet. Chidubem my first boy is a diehard supporter of Liverpool. Enter his room; you will see a life size poster-picture of the entire Liverpool team pasted on the wall. The second boy, Chibuzor, is a fanatical supporter of Barca. I had never heard that name before. When I asked him which club is that, he promptly told me, “Daddy, you are behind time,” chuckling. “Who is Barca,” I asked in amazement. “Barca means Barcelona,” he replied My boy taught me that. I thought I was current. Chika the youngest boy loves Chelsea.

Whenever their favourite teams wins or loses, come and see the commotion in my house. It could be jubilations, if it is a win, or taunts from other brothers if it is a loss. Should the match be between Liverpool, Barca, or Chelsea, there are fights in my house, so serious that that at times I have to threaten to discipline them if they continue to disturb the peace at home. The youngest boy Chika is always on the receiving end. Should Chelsea win Liverpool or Barca, the little boy is in trouble. The bigger brothers can even bully him if I or their mother is not around. On one occasion, they ran after him to beat him up, and he dashed off running to me for rescue. I did. If Chelsea loses, Oh! Come and see the taunts from the big brothers. In that situation, I usually placate Chika, assuring him that Chelsea will win another day. Such is the impact of European soccer on Nigerian families, sometimes polarizing family members.

It is not only European clubs that are celebrated in Nigeria. The players are revered too. Big names like Didier Drogba, David Beckam, Merci, Christian Ronaldo, Ronaldinho and many others are revered. They are not only big soccer brands in Nigeria, they are idols. Nigerian youths see them as status symbols and role models. The average Nigerian teenager has large size pictures of European soccer superstars pasted in their rooms. Nigerian youths know the movement and transfer fees of European soccer stars much more than that of Nigerian soccer stars also playing in European clubs.

The story of European soccer brands is not only about play. It is also about business. People gamble before matches, some even going into bets. Viewing centres are springing up all over Lagos fitted with flat screen tv’s and connected to cable television channels. Match fixtures are displayed on blackboards planted on street sidewalks for the attention of passersby. These centres charge gate fees for soccer fans who want to watch matches.

Some hotels and hospitality outfits have joined the fray of showing such matches to attract more patronage. Many of them on match days bring out flat screen television sets out in the open for free viewing. But every patron watching the match is required to buy drinks.

But the viewing centres are running into trouble now with DSTV, the cable tv company in Africa that has the franchise to beam these football matches in the African continent. DSTV wants the viewing centres to pay fees or royalties to the company because they charge soccer fans money to match. The cable company’s position is that the channel is for home entertainment by subscribers, and if any patron charges money for viewing, the person or company has to pay something to DSTV .The viewing centres are crying foul, saying it will squeeze them out of business. A showdown is imminent.

Besides, there are many sports souvenirs… T Shirts…Pictures…Wall Papers…Give Aways and other consumer items sporting European soccer stars and their clubs are sold in Nigeria. It is big business. And there are many newspapers dedicated exclusively to football. They come in different shades of tabloids, are cheaper than mainstream newspapers, and are heavily patronized by soccer loving youths to keep track of the fortunes of their favourite players and clubs. However, club loyalty does not stop them from loving any player, and they sometimes wish the player they love sign -on for their favourite clubs. Merci, the youthful Barcelona player is loved by Nigerian youngsters. They like his diminutive size and deft moves in the field of play. Nigerian youths believe this gifted Argentinan boy has football sense. Same for the Brazilian, Ronaldinho.

And so anytime you see European soccer on air, know that the fever is very strong in Nigeria.

Branding: The Story of European Soccer In Nigeria

Soccer Branding: The Story of European Soccer in Nigeria (1)

European soccer is making a very impact in Nigeria, captivating the minds and attention of soccer buffs, the young, and the young at heart, affecting the way Nigerians relax and unwind, and throwing up business opportunities for smart entrepreneurs.

And the story of this soccer brand is that of club support, fun, entertainment, gambling, and business in Nigeria, though the game is played thousands of kilometres away. For Nigerians, soccer is the game and entertainment; football clubs and players are the brands; while viewing the matches is the business.

The big brands of European soccer making waves in Nigeria are, The UEFA Championships, and English Premier League. Whenever teams in these competitions engage themselves in competitive soccer for a cup, Nigerian fans are held spellbound. It is as if the match is being played In Nigeria.

Some fans are strong in their support of the clubs they love. Come and see the campaigns in Nigeria for these clubs before any crucial match. Sometimes, it is fanatical. And in many cases, it results in brawls and big fights between supporters of different European clubs.

The support of clubs sometimes goes beyond the ordinary. At times, emotions run high. The big names are Manchester United, Barcelona, Chelsea, Arsenal, Real Madrid, AC Milan, and others. For these football clubs, their images loom large in Nigeria, and they command large followership of fans that are even prepared to trade blows, fight, or engage in heated arguments in support of their clubs. The impact of European soccer in Nigeria is so intense that it is shaping the way soccer fans relax and unwind amidst fun, food and drinks.

Two European clubs that the largest crowd of supporters in Nigeria are Manchester United (Man U) and Chelsea. And the curious observer of the profile of these supporters will see clear distinctions or stratification in terms of social class, education, and income power. How?

Man U has captivated the fanatical support of the middle, professional and upper class, who have flat screen television sets at home, and subscribe to cable television. And after any win by this football club, you will hear shouts of, Man U for Life! by excited fans. This is followed by thronging of beer parlours and pepper soup joints in most cities in Nigeria to celebrate the wins. When they gather there and relish the win, you will hear agitated fans tell so many stories about the match; narrate all sorts of analysis and do rigorous discourse of the game that has just been played. After every big match, there is plenty of soccer storytelling in Nigeria.

Chelsea on the other hand is in total control of the masses, the lower class, the street boys, the motor park touts, jobless youths and street urchins poplularly known as area boys, in Lagos metropolis, Nigeria. They are more in number, are fanatical in their support for Chelsea, and are even prepared to die for the team.

Whenever Man U confronts Chelsea in a big match, there is tension in Lagos, even before the match day. The UEFA Cup Final for 2007 or 2008(I am not sure of the year now) between Man U and Chelsea was a storm in a tea cup in Lagos.

Seven days before the match, the tension was palpable in Lagos. Who will win the match? The big question triggered intense debates all over the city and sometimes resulted in pre-match fights between Man U and Chelsea supporters in Nigeria. Sports newspapers increased the tempo as they soaked supporters of both clubs with interviews, latest news and rave reviews of the clubs’ preparations, fitness of players, and the final match strategies.

Man U will win; we are Man U for Life! The club’s supporters will chant to the chagrin of Chelsea supporters who respond vociferously with Up Chelsea! Chelsea supporters in Lagos, outnumber the Man U for Life chanters. The Chelsea buffs are everywhere, more in the streets, marketplaces and motor parks. More than 80 per cent of commercial bus drivers in Lagos are die-hard Chelsea fans. And they are very loud. They can throw caution to the winds and fight anywhere with bottles, stones, any dangerous objects, especially if they are high on tobacco and reek of alcohol.

Not so with Man U supporters. They are more cultured, better educated and work in blue-collar and white collar jobs. They are more gentle and refined in their football behavior, though also fanatical in their support for Man U, hence the slogan, Man U for Life, a clear indication they are not ready to switch their European Club brand loyalty, whether Man is winning or not. And in many cases, Man U wins.

Back to that epic Man U/Chelsea Final. Twenty-four hours to the match, the whole city of Lagos was drowned with the fever of the match. There were unconfirmed reports of clashes between supporters of both clubs in different parts of Lagos. Bus drivers and conductors fought, radio stations rent the air with pre-match reviews and interactive programmes for listeners to air their views on the outcome of the match.

Man U vs Chelsea was so thick in the air that many residents waited impatiently for the match to come and go. Match day, fans thronged viewing centres and beer parlours to watch the game. If you want to enjoy the viewing of European soccer championships in Nigeria, do not watch it at home. Go to a viewing centre and sit with overzealous fans and listen to all sorts of stories and analysis as the match progresses. You can write a book full of such stories. Football storytelling is strong in Nigeria.

Brand Finance: The Story of How Kunle Bought His Car

Kunle finished his meal at the fast food restaurant and glanced at the overhanging television set for news on the hour. It was the latest on the global financial crisis and the impact on the world’s stock markets.

“What is the big deal in buying shares,” he taught. “Better put your money in tangible goods you can see and control, than in all these bonds and stocks.” As he sauntered out of the restaurant, he saw his bosom friend Fred, cruise past in a flashy Honda Accord car.

“Fredo, Kunle hailed and waved. Fred saw him instantly and pulled up by the roadside, anchoring the saloon car after the traffic light. The car air-condition was humming, chilling the interior, and the hip-hop tunes, Do me…do me… of music celebrities P Square, made Fred to sway his head to and fro.

Kunle ran to the Honda car, opened the side door, hopped in, sat down beside Fred and slammed the door shut. As old pals, they pumped hands and traded “how-do-you-do’s.” The chilled car and music hit Kunle in the face.

“What’s up, Fredo,” he asked, his eyes glistening with excitement. He had never seen Fred driving this car, and it was a big surprise. Fred engaged gear and eased his Honda car back into the traffic heading home.

“Well Kunle, as you can see, I am a proud car owner.”

“You mean you own this fine bird,” Kunle asked in amazement, curiosity taking the better part of him.”

“Sure, Kunle. I bought it five days ago for N1.2 million. It is the 2006 model, and it came with factory fitted A/C, complete works. This car is more than a vehicle. It is a moving entertainment package, and it is fully insured. I have been…….”

“But you didn’t tell me, Fred,” Kunle cut in.

“Sorry, my brother, Fred chipped in, a bit apologetic. I have been very busy tying up the loose ends of that project I told you about, and to get all the necessary papers for this car and put it on the road. I am now mobile, a proud car owner.”

“You can say that again, Kunle countered, as he looked round the interior of the Honda, eyes beaming with excitement. We go wash am oh, he quipped, as the car glided silently through the traffic. He was still curious.

“But how did you do swing this, Fred? Did you win a jackpot or contract?”

“None of that, my brother. You know I am not a contractor, and I don’t gamble. I am still a commission insurance agent like you Kunle.”

“I know,” Kunle charged, still curious. The last time we met, we discussed the hard times and how we can diversify our income streams. Ten days later, I see you cruising in this Honda car. What is the secret brother? I want to own a ride like this. Boy, this is really a moving entertainment, and I love it.”

“I know you will love it, Kunle. Who wouldn’t? This car was shipped in from Japan.”

“So tell me Fred, where did you get the N1.5 million. Did you take a loan.?”

“No Kunle. I sold my shares.”

“Which shares?” Kunle asked in amazement.

“The shares I bought in that bank three years ago. Have you forgotten? You remember the commission both of us made from that insurance deal.”

“Yes, I did,” Kunle added.

“Good, you remember a stockbroker advised us to use the money and buy shares in the stock market. That way, it will multiply. You refused and put your money in your building project at your home town. But I preferred to invest the whole of my N250, 000 commission in the stock market, let my money multiply, reap and enjoy later. Kunle, what you are enjoying now is the power of the stock market to multiply your investments. My N250, 000 worth of shares appreciated to more than N2 million, within three years. Isn’t that a good deal brother? And when I ran into this old school mate of mine last Christmas, who came in from the USA and wanted cash badly, I asked my stockbroker to sell part of my shares in that bank. He did, and I used the money to buy this car.”

“Just like that,” Kunle shouted excitedly, clasping his hands.

“Just like that,” Fred beamed. “Men, I am so happy. I have always agonised how I am ever going to own a car. Little did I know that buying the shares of a bank and selling some of them three years later would make me a car owner? From a share owner, I have now become a car owner. No sweat. Just wisdom and patience. It is like one of the titles of James Hadley Chase novels we read in secondary school. You remember that one Kunle, Come Easy….Go Easy.”

“I do,” Kunle responded, deep in thought.

“Men, the stock market is it,” Fred continued. You put in your money easily there, and you can take it out easily whenever you want. It’s such a good deal, so flexible. The stock market is the place to invest, Kunle. It’s never too late to start. Come to think of it, if you bought a piece of land, though its value appreciates over time, you cannot easily sell it quick time.”

“Congratulations, my brother,” Kunle said after a long silence. He was struck by Fred’s wisdom. “What you have just said has opened my eyes. I regret putting my money in that building project.”

“You don’t have to Kunle. You are on your way to become a landlord,” Fred said.

“When? Fred, when?” Kunle queried. I have since stopped work on that project. The cost of cement has soared beyond my reach making it impossible for me to continue work there. Even if I want to sell it now, I cannot easily do as just as you sold your shares. The sale of land and buildings take time to conclude. I don’t really know when I will complete that building. I should have listened to that stockbroker.”

“No regrets,” Fred counselled him. “The house is still yours, completed or not. You can even use it as collateral to take a bank loan. My ownership of this car demonstrates the beauty of investing in the stock market. You can see the benefit now. You can do same Kunle. It’s never too late to start.”

“I will Fred, I definitely will.”

“Good resolution Kunle. You know what; I am ready to marry now. Many girls turned down my marriage proposals because I was not mobile. Now I am ready to go for big time. Let’s go and celebrate brother,” as the two friends roared in laughter.

Eric Okeke is a consultant brand storyteller, author and editor who is using brand storytelling to improve business returns in Nigeria. You can reach on ericosamba@yahoo.com, ericokeke@gmail.com

The Story of Brand Harmattan (2)

The Story of Brand Harmattan (2)

Uzoma returned home from a hard day’s work, sauntered to his front door, slotted in his key, turned it, and attempted to open the metal door. It did not open.

“What could be wrong? Am I in the wrong place?” he wondered. Satisfied he was in front of his home, and that the key he inserted in the key hole actually turned, he pushed the door again to open, no way. He heaved it, gripping the handle and raising the door frame lightly above the floor to open it. Still it did not open.

What has gone wrong with this door that it refuses to open?” he blurted out in frustration, to no one in particular.

“There is nothing wrong with your door,” a voice said behind him. Uzoma turned to behold his neighbour, Emeka smiling at him. Obviously, he had been watching Uzoma struggling to open his door

“The problem is not your door?” Emeka continued, on seeing Uzoma’s puzzled expression. “It is the harmattan.”

“What has the harmattan, a dusty wind, got to do with my door,” Uzoma queried.

“Plenty,” Emeka replied, “plenty of alterations to lives and property. The reach of the harmmatan wind is almost endless. It affects everybody, everything, altering lifestyles and the shape of objects, including home fittings and furniture.”

“In your case,” Emeka continued, “this cold, dry wind has contracted some of the components of your key lock, and the hinges of your door. The contraction in turn, has altered the alignment of your door on its frame making it to jam the floor. That is why it cannot open.”

“I see,” said Emeka in bewilderment. “So this harmattan even affects metal objects. I thought it only affects human beings causing dryness of the skin, mouth and throat, and cracking of the lips. How come it also affects metals?”

“It does,” Emeka said. Nobody, place, or thing is spared the harsh effects of the harmattan. You just have to be prepared for his visit to minimise the impact. Please go and get a carpenter or welder to help you open your door, else you will sleep outside. If you do that, you can be sure the harmattan will penetrate your lungs and send you to the hospital tomorrow morning.”

“I will do as you say,” said Uzoma as he left to find help.

Difficulty in opening a door is just one the many domestic effects of the harmattan, a chilly, dry wind that blows across sub-Saharan Africa, January-February, affecting persons, places and objects. You just have to find a way to cope Mr. Harmattan. He is an unusual visitor.

The signs of the harmattan are many: Chills, cold, dust which hangs as a haze in the air, dryness, chesty coughs, sore throats, dry skins, cracked lips, layers of dust covering household furniture and domestic appliances. The number of patients going to hospitals and clinics to complain of respiratory problems also rises during this period. That is Mr Harmattan for you.

When you breathe during the harmattan, the dusty wind causes dryness of the throat and bronchial problems. It is the period to cover children properly, even adults, with cardigans; else you take a bed in the hospital.

When Mr. Harmattan comes, sales of cough syrups soar. Go to busy bus stops in Lagos, Nigeria, you will see youths hawking sweet menthols and throat lozenges chanting, “Buy your (brand of sweet); no more coughs, no more catarrh.

The harmattan also affects the body. It is also a period when sale of petroleum jellies for dry skins also go up, while ladies apply heavier doses of cosmetics on their bodies to cushion its harsh effects.

The harmattan throws up other challenges. You have to cope with layers of dust that settle on home furniture, beds and beddings, cooking utensils, and other household consumer durables. The most vulnerable items are television sets and electronic gadgets such as CD and DVD players. It is either you cover them up properly with table cloths or you wipe the dust constantly. Plenty of work. The clothes in your wardrobe are not spared either. Even if the wardrobe is securely locked, the harmattan wind penetrates depositing dust on fine linen and other expensive fabrics. This translates into more spending on commercial laundry; else your fabrics will be damaged.

The harmattan period is the time to secure your clothes. Any fabric exposed to the dusty wind may not regain its original strength and texture. It is a period when dry cleaning and laundry services enjoy a boom in business. Also caregivers face more challenges as they provide domestic and paediatric care.

The highways are not spared. If you walk along a road that is not tarred during the harmattan, and a car zooms past; oh dear, the hail of dust that trails the car will envelope you making you to choke and cough. Driving early mornings during the harmattan is risky because of the haze of dust hanging in the air.

This haze creates problems for the aviation industry. It causes low visibility making landing and take-off, of aircraft, difficult for pilots at the airports. If you go the airports in Nigeria during the harmattan period, you will see frustrated and stranded passengers held back by cancelled or delayed flights. The harmattan is an aviation nightmare.

“Thou art dust, and unto dust, thou shall return,” appears to the message of Mr. Harmattan whenever he comes. So, is he a friend or foe? How do you cope with him? Much depends on how hospitable and how prepared you are for his visit. You just have to manage him with wisdom because this visitor changes the weather and affects your health too. Take this advice from health and other professionals:

“Just be prepared for his coming and make adjustments. Find a way to accommodate him and be hospitable to minimise the trauma. Wear cardigans and thick clothes. Cover your children properly especially at night; drink plenty of water, avoid cold drinks, spend more time indoors, reduce air travel, keep all household utensils dust proof, and clean up the home frequently to check the inhaling of dust.

“Make Mr. Harmattan very comfortable when he comes. And when he departs, bid him farewell, and begin to prepare for his visit next year.”

Eric Okeke is a consultant brand storyteller, author and editor who is using brand storytelling to improve business returns in Nigeria. You can reach on ericosamba@yahoo.com, ericokeke@gmail.com

The Story of Brand Harmattan (1)

The Story of Brand Harmattan (1)

It Chills…Dries…Alters Lifestyle

Three year old Ifeoma let out a high pitched, piercing scream as Doctor Henry pressed her ribs with his stethoscope, in the course of his diagnosis. Finally he pulled the strap-on, of the diagnostic equipment from his ear looked at Ifeoma with the re-assuring mien of a medical practitioner who has completed the diagnosis of a patient and said:

“Your daughter is down with pneumonia. The cold penetrated her ribs into her lungs, making breathing difficult. She is in pains too. She has to be admitted into the hospital for five days and placed on anti-biotic injections, every six hours.”

“Its okay, Doc if you say so,” Ifeoma’s mom replied. We did our best at home to revive her. We just want her to get well. I have to dash home to make necessary adjustments to cope with this development. But what could have caused this, doctor?”

“The harmattan winds,” Dr. Henry replied. The wind is cold and dry and is a regular visitor in Nigeria every December/January. Technically, it is known as the North-East Trade Winds which sweeps from North Africa down to sub-Saharan Africa. In Nigeria, it is known as the Harmattam. This dry wind is a regular visitor in many homes in Africa at this period.”

He continued as Ifeoma’s mom nodded in understanding:” This wind is extremely cold, coming at very low temperatures. Its major characteristic is that it is cold and dry. It throws up lot of dust and causes a lot of medical problems, especially difficulty in breathing.

“The signs are many: Chills, flu, catarrh, chesty coughs, pains, dry skins, and blisters on the lips, blurred vision, and respiratory diseases such as pneumonia which has afflicted your daughter. Go to many hospitals in the city and see how doctors are battling with these ailments. This wind poses a great challenge for us in the medical profession at this time of the year, and we are always ready for it.

“The message is that adults should wear thick clothes during the Harmattam season, and mothers should cover up their children properly against the cold winds and give them plenty of water and fruit drinks that contain Vit. C to drink. This vitamin fortifies a person’s immune system against colds and flu.”

“Thank you Doc for this explanation,” replied Ifeoma’s mom. Now that I am better informed, I will be better prepared for the Harmattan, next season.”

“You are welcome,” replied Doctor Henry.

The challenge facing Ifeoma’s mom is a replica of what is playing out in many Nigerian homes during the Harmattan season, usually at year end and beginning of the year. At this period, a strange visitor comes as a cold dry wind which sweeps across the landscape. When it blows, it suddenly changes the weather and raises plenty of dust which cast a haze in the atmosphere and impairs vision.

This is Mr. Harmattan as it is known in Nigeria. He sweeps across many countries in sub-Saharan Africa, altering lifestyles in many homes and offices. You just have to be ready for the coming of Mr. Harmattan, else, you end in hospital.

Mr. Harmattan is an annual visitor. You don’t invite him. He comes every year un-invited, sweeping across homes and offices, and stays for a minimum of 3 weeks or more. Is he welcome? Is he a gentleman? Yes! For many who like him. And No! For those who don’t like him. It just depends on how hospitable and how well prepared you are for this visitor. Either way, he is a friend or foe depending on your preparation.

If he takes you unawares, he will deal with you. In this case, he may well be your foe. But if you are prepared, he can be a good friend. He has no apologies for coming and you cannot stop him. He comes, once every year, at a particular time and season, December or January, depending on the part of Nigeria where you live. So why should residents complain? Those who do so are simply careless and could pay a big price for it. You could end up in hospital with all the bills to pay.

Those who live in the Northern states of Nigeria such as Abuja (Nigeria’s capital city), Kano, Kaduna, and Bauchi are the first to receive this visitor, say, second week of December. You will know Mr. Harmattan has come when the winds become dry and cold and raise plenty of dust. If you wash your clothes and hang them on the line, they dry up at far less time than usual, an indication that Harmattan is around. If you spill water on the floor, do not bother to mop it. Mr Harmattan will do it quickly for you without any charges. He is a good friend for those in the laundry business

Mr.Harmattan is not visible only in homes and offices. You see him on land and sea, and as a thick haze of dust hanging in the air. At night, the velocity of the winds increases. When you breathe, Harmattan reaches your lungs instantly. It is usually a harrowing period for asthmatic patients. You just cannot avoid or stop Mr. Harmattan from coming. He will come and will touch your life and business in one way or the other. You can’t avoid him. He is everywhere.

Eric Okeke is a consultant brand storyteller, author and editor who is using brand storytelling to improve business returns in Nigeria. You can reach on ericosamba@yahoo.com, ericokeke@gmail.com

Branding for Marriage (2)

Getting to their home to drop and proceed, Jane insisted that I should get out of the car to greet he mom, routine practice, on her mother’s instruction, for any male friend. I did. I talked with Mama, telling her I had come there to see her earlier on few occasions, at the prompting my friend Tony. I departed Ikeja, promising Jane I was coming back following day.
That night I could not sleep. All I had on my mind was Jane. She had made a big impression on me. She warmed up to immediately we met, enjoying and responding to my jokes and insisting that I meet her. I was beginning to like her. I shared my feelings with my junior brother Ken, who was living with me then. He encouraged me to go ahead and go where my heart led.
Next day, December 20, 6 pm, I was at Jane’s house, greeted her mom and went into the living room to meet her. Her father had travelled to London. Christmas was approaching, and it was a period, Igbo’s of South East, Nigeria trooped home to spend the Yuletide with their families.
I was billed to travel home December 22. Incidentally her hometown was close to mine, only about six miles apart. Jane opted to travel in my car and quickly told her mom who gave her consent. After entertaining me with fried fish and snacks, I asked Jane out. She brought Frances along,I nforming her mom of the trip. That was struck me first about Jane. She told mom all her movement. I did not object. We found our way into fast food joint, bought some take- away and proceeded to my home in Okota area of Lagos. W e spent time with my brother ken before I took them back home.
On return, Ken gave his approval for me to marry Jane, saying he was impressed with her comportment. Two days, myself, Ken, and set out for our hometowns. My driver was at the steering. It was a pleasant journey. I remember going Proverbs 31 in the bible with Jane all through the journey. I told her I wanted her to be that kind of woman. She promised to be.
We dropped her at her father’s home, and proceeded to my hometown, Abagana, Anambra State, Nigeria. That night I was ready to meet with my parents who had been heckling to get married. At 34, and editor of national business magazine, my father said it was irresponsible of me to remain single. That night we returned, my parents turned on the heat: “Who is the girl?” They wanted a firm answer. I told them about Jane. “Have you proposed”? My dad enquired. “No” I replied.
“Do so immediately quickly. If she consents, then I take our family elders to go and see her parents. Following day, December 23, I was at Jane’s home, where she introduce to her other relations. That same day I propose marriage to her, five days after I met her for the first time on December 19, 1990
Next day, December 24, one day to Christmas she said, “yes.” At this moment, my father took over. First week January, 1991, he proceeded with family elders to see Jane’s parents. Eleven months after I met Jane, We wedded at St. Leo’s Catholic Church, Ikeja, Lagos.
God has blessed with us with four children, three boys and one girl (the youngest) aged five to seventeen years. We have had a good marriage so far, despite many challenges. As I look back on that fateful when the two young girls in their mid 20s, walked into my business premises, I just see the finger of God in it all.
I never believed I could propose marriage to a girl the week I met her. One day I asked why she accepted my proposal without courtship. She said I swept her off her feet. And so what was one thing about me that made her fall in love so quickly? “Your eyes,” she replied beaming. “You have big and dreamy eyes.”
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Eric Okeke is an editor, business writer, storytelling and media consultant who is using brand storytelling to improve business returns for professionals and organisations in Nigeria. You can reach him on ericosamba@yahoo.com, ericokeke@gmail.com

Branding for Marriage (1)

We finished the production of The Financial Post, a business magazine which I edited and I stepped out of the office to banter with my Arts Editor and a correspondent. We needed the time- out to ease the tension of producing more than 40 pages of the magazine every two weeks.
The job tasked our brains and sapped all our energies and creativity. And as the editor of the magazine, I made it a point of duty to relax after each production with jokes. And there we were bantering, when I noticed two girls, mid 20s, come into our business premises. The passed us by and went straight to the front-desk office.
They came to deliver an invitation letter from a bosom friend who was doing his traditional wedding. Such weddings are big events (usually coming before the church wedding) among the ethnic nationality of Igbos, in South-East, Nigeria.
As the front-desk officer pointed me out where I was standing with my colleagues, the two ladies turned and approached us. Who is Eric? Jane, who later on became my wife enquired. “That’s me,” I replied. She handed me the letter which I ripped open immediately. Behold it was my friend Tony, inviting me to his traditional wedding.
“T for Tony,” I exclaimed. “So this is it. You are finally settling down, my friend, after years of searching for a wife,” I remarked gleefully as my eyes swept through the contents of the invitation card. The usual contents were there: date, time, venue, location, family identities of groom and bride, and others.
“Oh, all my friends are settling down, I am the only the only left,” I chuckled as I folded the invitation card, and put it away in my pocket. The two ladies laughed at my remark. I quickly shifted attention to them as my colleagues melted away. It was well 5pm for the day, and it was time to go after a hard day’s work. Time for introductions: I am Jane. This is my cousin, Frances,” my wife-to-be said. But I did not know then, at that moment.
“Oh I know your elder sister Rosemary,” I said to Jane. “”Were in same campus during our undergraduate days in the university. How’s she?” I enquired.
“She’s fine. She is now married with four children,” Jane replied.
After more pleasantries, the girls wanted to leave. I persuaded to wait for me as I closed for the days.I opted to drop them at home before going for my evening fellowship. My sense of humor was evident, and Jane uncontrollably at them. I told her that’s my nature, and not to be bothered as I am rabble-rouser. She was responded with excitement that she loved humorous people. At that moment I took an intense liking for her. And I did not hide it.
The journey to their home in Ikeja area of Lagos, took about 45 minutes. Jane sat beside me in the front seat, Frances at the back seat. We talked, laughed and cracked jokes as I had known the girls for years. Not so. I had just met them some two hours ago. Jane was more vocal and outward. She spoke more than Frances who was a bit reserved.
Looking back now, 19 years later, I realize that Jane took the initiative to warm up to me ahead of Frances who is two years younger. Whether she did out of her nature or to register a strong presence in my mind as a potential bride, I do not know. What was on ground then was that I made them realize on that day we met, was that I was still single, in search of a wife. Though I did not say so directly.
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Eric Okeke is an editor, business writer, storytelling and media consultant who is using brand storytelling to improve business returns for professionals and organisations in Nigeria. You can reach him on ericosamba@yahoo.com, ericokeke@gmail.com
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