Taking People's Picture Without Their Consent

by Adesinmi Olatoyese

...is not right. Period.

Being served my own pie of the preposterous act reminds me of the story of a woman who had to re-tell a story about her that went viral on social media.

To be frank, the woman has massive hooters, which got the attention of many perverts on the streets of Lagos. As if embarrassing her by crowding her is not enough, some took their stupidity further by taking her pictures (without her consent, of course) and attached different stories to it. Some, unbelievable; some outright ridiculous.

As the woman recanted, it was her friend that informed her of the stories circulating the media with her pictures strategically illustrating the different tales. And guess what, it is a different story entirely.

Maybe I should tell you this one, too. It's about (me and) some of my classmates:

We were at night class preparing for an exam scheduled for the next morning. But towards the middle of the night, many guys started drifting off and some of the others guys that weren't sleeping when others were, started taking pictures of those sleeping. The annoying part is that they took the pictures when “boys” were enjoying it deep, adjusting to the most humorous postures ever. Unfortunately, none of us (even as I wasn't sleeping) knew when all of these was happening. We only got to know of it when those pictures were all over WhatsApp with different captions. So embarrassing.

Now to my own story

I have an exam the next day, so I took almost all the hours the night before off sleeping—jacking (hey, it's reading; not street robbery), as we call it. The next morning, the sleepy me continued reading but with intermittent yawn. More hours into it (reading), my eyes became heavy; couldn't hold the sleep back any longer. But hey, I will be writing a paper in few hours, so I continued reading even as apparent I couldn't assimilate jack. At that point in time, sleeping is the costliest thing on earth. Bet.

As I enjoyed my sleep-reading, yawning with my mouth so wide it could give passage for two apples at a time. I leered, surveying around with the corner of the eyes, trying to see if everyone is concentrating on their books and not on me.

Suggested Reading: On Ants, Their Lifestyle and Lessons for Us

What a relief — nobody noticed, even if they did, it was covert. But just as I was about turning the pupils of my eyes back to my book, I saw the camera of a 5.5" phone turned directly towards me. Huh! “what the hell is he doing?”

In a flash, I challenged the person holding the phone; even as it is unlike of me.

The following ensured:

“Boss, I see you're snapping me.”

“No,” he said with a head-shaking gesture.

Not minding his reply, I said “Can I see your phone?”

He didn't hand me his phone, though, but I watched carefully as he swiped through the recently taken pictures and behold … selfies! He was taking selfies, but because he was using the front camera, his phone's rear camera has to point at me. (:

“No vex, bro. As I see your camera facing me, I think say you dey snap me.”

“But,” he said, “you're handsome now.”

He is not the first, and most likely will not be the last, to tell me that. But this is not about looks; it is about what happens to the picture afterwards – what they do with it and how far it travels.

“No vex,” I apologized as I dragged myself back to where I was sitting.

God forbid I log on to Facebook, or worse, Nairaland someday and see a meme featuring me and my buccal cavity widely open like a lidless bucket and a book before me with jump-into-lagoon captions. Ah!

End of story.

If you take pictures of people in postures they're are not proud of, or without their permission, please stop it. It's a terrible thing seeing one's picture being used for rather unspeakable things.

Stop it; it's not right. It may even haunt them.

Just stop it, abeg.

______

Lights out.

Quick add: There's another picture of a guy reading on the ATM queue. Mehn! the captions are hilarious. I pity the guy though.

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On Ants, Their Lifestyle and Lessons for Us

by Adesinmi Olatoyese

I sat in front of my house, relishing the greenness of grasses; the blueness of the sky—which, however, later grew black, pregnant of rain; and the brownness of the earth.

I got tired of admiring the grasses and the sky, but I stuck with admiring the soil.

Was it browner than it used to be?
Or perhaps, the soil is something I don't see regularly?

Nay!

What brings about the fascination was some tiny creatures, in Science (or Biology) we'd call insects, engaging in an exercise, which in the human world we'd call hustle.

I was sure they were moving, but I couldn't tell whether they were walking or they were running; the speed was too much for a walk and too low for a run.

As I admire their hardworking nature, I also wonder what kind of wonder I seemed to them.

Perhaps I am some kind of giant.

They wouldn't worry too much about it, anyway; it's “something" they see every day.

Even if they have at a time wondered what sort of creation figures like mine are, it'd be in the time past, because as at the time I took my time with them, they'd have gotten used to it.

They were busy, moving to and fro mainly in groups.

I saw a group carrying pieces of biscuits, which must have dropped from the one a busy mother used in placating her crying child to God-knows-where.

A distance away, I saw another group carrying the carcass of another kind of insect bigger than a battalion of them combined.

While I watch a group struggle with their own item, another would surface, striving against the forces of the reluctant item they were porting.

On and on, this goes.

“Where are they carrying all of these to?” I queried.

I watched in excitement as a group waded through into a hole; their home.

Other groups do the same, successively.

These busy, tiny creatures are called ants, and what they were busy doing was: saving for the rainy days.

The ants do everything they could in times of surplus to stock their holes – their home – with any and every kind of food item, and then retire to these ‘stocks' in times of scarcity to enjoy the fruits of their labor.

***

It is funny how much the human race is ‘stocked' with enormous and appropriate words to describe the activities of the ants, but has a hard time exercising them.

In the narration, I used the words "a group" predominantly. It then is quite un-understandable – not understandable – why us humans find it hard to work as a group, let alone work effectively as one.

Suggested Reading: A Drunk and His Bottles

Whether these ants are of different race, religion, etc we can't tell, but with certainty, we can tell they have different minds, which, of course, is the harbinger of individual difference. As such, we can say emphatically, that they are different – different from each other.

It is the mind that harbours the thoughts that we divide ourselves in whatever line we so have, and the ants have got it, yet they co-exist and work effectively. Perhaps they are aware that united they stand; divided they fall—yet another adage from human beings.

Like someone you know, they know if they work together they can make their kingdom great…not again but all the time.

***

As obvious in the narrative, the ants are said to be saving for the rainy days they know would come.

I'm not sure if they know when the rainy day would be, but they sure know it will come. And to save themselves of the adversities of the rainy days, they saved!

Again, it is un-understandable why us humans don't do this. I mean – why the majority of us "enjoy the moment" so much that we forget what happens afterwards.

People (and countries) revel so much in good times, but fail to prepare for when the times wouldn't be so good. Thereby suffer during these not so good times. They then begin to ramble on semantics, giving the not-so-good times different names, which at the end point to the same situation; rainy day!

One of the many ways people contemn saving is prioritising wants over needs; extravagance over providence.

We are sure “after famine comes abundance," but hate to hear of the otherwise, which can be managed if precautionary measures – such as saving – were taken.

Youth exorbitance is another problem; youths "enjoying the life of their head" so much that they forget that the bones and cartilages, the strength and power of their youthfulness will at a point wither.

The ants would retire to their 'stocks' during scarcity. What will you retire to?

What will you retire to when good times and tides wave you bye-bye?

What will you retire to?

What do you think?
Share your thoughts in the comments.

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What to Write About

by Adesinmi Olatoyese

For about three months now, I've been wallowing in the confusion of what to write about.

I just couldn't come up with anything.

I have decided to venture into freelance writing, yet I haven't written much.

The confusion causative all along has been the advice of all the (freelance) writers I follow. They advise me (or us) to have a niche – a specific subject. They justified their stance by stating that it would make me an authority in that niche – given to the fact that since it's the subject I've chosen, I'd put more effort into learning about it.

That couldn't be any truer.
I concur.

The determining factor, however, should be passion. That I should choose a subject I'm passionate about. The reason for this is because passion would keep me interested in the subject. As it is something I'm passionate about, learning, and then writing about it would be much fun.

Another reason is that the zeal to do freelance writing won't peter out (quickly, if at all).

I couldn't agree with them more!

Now, that brings about a big Q. A very, very big one at that!

What am I passionate about?

I don't know.

Sincerely, I don't.

[Thanks for that adjective, buddy. But next time, be nice!]

In my quest for discovering what my passion is, I started reading many pieces on the subject, and the takeaway is:

If I'm clueless about what my passion is, I should look towards:

• What I love doing

• What I studied (or currently studying) in school

• Activities that light up my mood

• And anything that has to do with "me," "my," "I" and "myself." 

And my answers? They are:

• I love to sleep…and eat

• I am studying Engineering (Electronic and Electrical precisely)

• Thinking…

• Searching…

Should I write about sleeping…and eating?

What of about engineering?

Definitely not!

I've chosen a variety of topics in the health niche, but it doesn't work.
For the most part of it, I lost interest.

But I'll stick with it.

Like I stated earlier, I'm aware of the fact that if you don't like (or love) what you do, the zeal burns out quickly, easily.

Hence, the need for one to do what one loves.

But in my own case, my wit has disappointed me (to discover what I like and that is reasonable to write about), so the way forward is to love what I do.

Takeaway:

First up, make yourself a drum cup of tea and enjoy

When you do what you love, especially when you make money from it, it will feel less like work; rather it'll feel much like fun.

When you do what you love:

• You get the motivation to work, easily

• Work wouldn't feel like work

• You dedicate everything that is required to learn or know more about it – subconsciously, without putting much effort!

But what then happens if you, for whatever reason, don't get to do what you love?

Hate it?

Nag every time?

Nope!

Rather than do any of those, try to build up love for it!

So the bottom line is: If you are not doing what you love, love what you do!

What do you think?

Share your thoughts in the comments.

Cheers!

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