Merry Christmas

 Was Jesus really born 25th of December or was the date appropriated from a Greek god's celebration day? I don't know and I truly don't care. The intellectuals of the world will continue to do the research and i'm happy to let them.
However, I am so glad that Jesus was born no matter the date.
He was born.
I am glad about the hope, Joy, redemption and Salvation that only this kind of birth has brought to me.
I am glad that this life is not all that there is.
In the past several months I have had cause to keep saying "Thank God for Jesus" because I know that without him life would have been miserable and hopeless. Maybe that's why people commit suicide- young and old- , maybe that's why people kill others in the hope that there will be a better somewhere.
I am glad that Jesus does not expect me to earn his love.
I am glad that God through this same Jesus has freely given me access to him the source of everything. A God whose love is all encompassing, not earned or merited but freely given.
I am glad that God does not want me to fight for or defend him...
 He fights His own battles and He has never lost.
As I write this, I remember the Triple Entente and the Triple Alliance...and I am so glad to be on the side of these powerful cannot be defeated trio of Father, Son and the holy spirit.
Alliances are significant.
So, whatever you believe, from a very Merry grateful heart I wish you a wonderful Christmas.

Whose Bigbrother?

 Idris Sultan from Tanzania won the season 9 edition of the big brother reality television show tagged bigbrother hotshots. He smiled home literally with the $300,000 prize money. That means that the Nigerian housemate Tayo Faniran did not win. When the results were announced at the grand finale there was a lot of shock on the part of Nigerians. The social media was agog with conspiracy theories, needless to say some Nigerians felt cheated. Some even went as far as raising money for Tayo. Now, every Nigerian knows that we hate to lose. Just feel out the emotion of the populace a day after we lose a football match, especially if it was a crucial one. People walk about mournfully and look for whose head to fell, thankfully, the government always comes to our rescue. They take the blame and we cus and rant at them. After a while we feel better. Bottom line is, Nigerians don't like to lose."May the better man win"no dey our psyche. We always want to win. Whether we're prepared or not. But then, who doesn't?
In the case of the bigbrother hotshots, DSTV shared the blame with the government. By the way we're told that DSTV subscription in Nigeria is the most expensive anywhere. Which begs the question: isn't there an alternative? Na by force to take exploitation?
So, back to the hotshots.
When bigbrother Africa debuted in 2003 with twelve participating African countries four years after its first broadcast in the Netherlands, it was the first time the franchise was using participants from different nationalities from one continent. To the outside world, Africa is one country so they treat us as such. I don't think that Endemol thought out the implications of having different countries with different voting powers vying for the coveted prize or maybe they did. For instance in a continent where countries like Botswana and Namibia(who had a winner in season 8- Dillish Mathews) are projected to make up 0.19% respectively of the population size and a Nigeria of 15.98%. Add to that regional sentiments...by voting power alone It's obvious who the winner would always have been.
But somehow, bigbrother always seems to have a system that's not yet fully understood and so always comes up with surprise wins to make it truly African and kind of give a feeling that it's been zoned. Since inception, there have been winners from Zambia(Cherise Makubale of season 1), Tanzania has won twice -Richard Dyle Bezuidenhout of 2 and Idris the Hotshot. Ricardo Venancio of Angola won season 3 and Nigeria won three years in a row- Kevin Chuwang, Uti Nwachukwu and Karen Igho(seasons 4,5 and 6) Wendal Parsons of Zimbabwe was a co winner of season 6 with Karen. The host country South Africa has had its share too through Keagan Pietersen.
Did Idris deserve to be a hotshot? Idris who was the most relaxed, fun loving and sometimes appeared dumb. Who was not voted sexiest man in the house or alpha male yet had the attention of all the ladies. Idris who turned the house to a playboy mansion in different beds everyother night. To the point the mother had to be brought into the house to ask him to behave. By the way, he was good at it because the girls didn't seem to mind sharing him. Maybe as the presenter of six years straight Ikpomwosa ik Osakioduwa said, it's Africa and Polygamy is allowed. Was that Idris's appeal? A true African male who has selective use of his emotions? When the others were tearing up after surprise visits from their loved ones in an episode in the house, he'd only smiled. Oh by the way the presenter is a Nigerian too and I think Nigerians expected him to somehow make Nigerians to always win even though he is not the bigbrother. Well, as his wife tweeted "if you want a Nigerian to win everytime, then let's just stick to bigbrother Nigeria"
Personally I think that expecting bigbrother to be fair or unfair is not understanding the concept of bigbrother at all.
Bigbrother is a character from a 1949 novel titled 1984 by George Orwell. The author whose name has been turned to an adjective Orwellian: which describes official deception, secret surveillance, and manipulation of recorded history by a totalitarian or authoritarian state. In this book 1984, bigbrother is a tyrannical party leader who may or may not even exist and the party "seeks power entirely for its own sake. We are not interested in the good of others; we are interested solely in power."
I think that is pretty self explanatory.

State ownership: People versus party.

Lagos is an APC ,All Progressives Congress, state. There's almost this certainty that whoever will be fielded as their gubernatorial candidate will automatically be the next governor.
There's the popular saying in Lagos 'Fashola is working...'. I do not dispute this statement. I voted for Fashola in the last election. I did not vote for the party, no matter the party he'd been in, I'll have voted for him. I guess in some sense that is naïve because I hear political analysts say sometimes that there's always a party agenda and the candidates do not deviate from them, however I think Fashola is not just a glorified head, I think he has a thinking mind of his own. Afterall, before APC was reborn it used to be AD, Alliance for Democracy, and then AC- Action congress. Fashola's Lagos is different from AD or AC's Lagos to me. I do not think Lagos is cosmopolitan yet but it shows potentials (Fashola's Lagos). Although agberoism is still purulent. I thought the reactivation of KAI(Kick against Indiscipline)which was established in 2003 by the previous administration was brilliant: lots of agberos were drafted. A subtle case of using a crook to catch a crook. And they were on fire the first two years of Fashola's tenure. Some of their memorable feats are the many arrests made of individuals(mostly Johnny Just come) at Ojota crossing the expressway, creating the road again at Oshodi after the market women had turned the expressway  to stalls, same thing at Akpongbon market... Sadly, I hardly see KAI anymore and the proliferation these days of agberos is unprecedented. As the government is no longer employing them, others are or is it still the government? Some days ago while leaving home in the morning I saw a wall of freshly pasted posters of Jimi Agbaje the ,PDP, Peoples Democratic Party gubernatorial candidate, when I got home in the evening all the posters were gone. Torn. Next day I saw some other posters of other candidates still under the PDP umbrella, when I got home, they too had been torn. My interest was piqued. Who was tearing them? This morning I got my answer. As I left earlier in order  to beat traffic, I saw two agbero looking young men who wore that neon lemon vest with LASMA(Lagos state Traffic Management authority)boldly written at the back resolutely removing the posters. Two things stood out; how do the posters constitute hindrance to free traffic movement? Traffic management is LASMA's jurisdiction afterall and finally, why did they skip the APC posters if posters are a risk to road users?
During the 2011 elections I went to Eket in Akwa Ibom, a PDP state. There seemed to be an unspoken law: "do not speak ill of the ruling government and definitely do not campaign for the opposing party ". The air was thick with palpable dread of breaking this law. I recall my friend telling me to keep my opinions to myself whenever we went outside. There were no posters of other parties just PDP. My question now is: does it mean that once a party has won a state, it forever owns that state? What if the next individual that the ruling party puts forward is inept and cannot deliver to the electorates? Are the people not free to make another choice? Why should the options be so limited?

To Package or not? A race of the Haves and the haves not.

 "Dress as you wish to be addressed" you ever heard that? Well that has metamorphosed into a new term called packaging. Packaging is a term used in the Nigerian parlance to mean presenting what is not there. Sometimes 'branding' maybe used interchangeably. I give an example: you see a girl in the university who lives off campus in a well furnished house with all the trappings of wealth in school, designer clothes and blings . Flat screen television, Air conditioner sometimes split unit, big generator not the normal 'I pass my neighbour' o , huge two door refrigerator, thick rug and a big mattress that's definitely pro sleep and anti reading. All this in one room that students tend to call a house which actually looks more like a prison specifically designed by the state to make a claustrophobic inmate commit suicide. This same student outside of school lives in an obscure 'hood' where the parents luxuriate in a meal a day but when she comes out, she claims she doesn't eat swallow(garri, foofoo, pounded Yam etc) only fruits and fastfoods. Image is everything. Packaging can be found in an individual who has never crossed the border but speaks 'phone' like his life depends on it and some even master it so well they are willing to compete with the English person for the English language. My friend that works in a popular radio station in Lagos recently told me they were walking around on thin ice in the office because their management was firing anyone without a foreign accent. So maybe life does depend on it. How about borrowing money to rent a house in Lekki because that's the 'it place' now? Buying cars on loan, or borrowing different ones from people, living off friends and well wishers on fabricated excuses: "my mother needs urgent surgery", some their father is forever been buried or dying. I spoke with a beautiful forensic auditor some time ago in Lekki. I asked her about life in Lekki and she in turn asked me if i've watched the web series "Lekki Wives" I told her yes. She said "my sister that's the life here o in Lekki" forming and fronting. Networking is everything so you have to be in the right place to meet the right crowd. Curriculum Vitae(CV) experts say you should elaborate on supposed skills and ingenuity to give your CV that omph factor which to some means you should tell white lies just to make your CV stand out. Alas employment is not done on just CV basis alone. All these done in a bid to be taken seriously in the desperate jet set as those that have will be given more and those that don't, the little they have will be taken away. No one wants to be in the later group. A race of the haves and the haves not. Question is in all these packaging where is the real? What is real? Is the real so repugnant we can't bear to see it?

Gangsta's Paradise

"Tell me why are we so blind to see that the ones we hurt are you and me"
That's a line from Coolio's 1995 Grammy award winning hit single Gangsta's Paradise. Originally a Stevie Wonder song with title "Past time paradise". Coolio reworked the song and flavoured it with his own reality and rhythm. It has turned out to be one of the best selling singles of all times. There is a reason this song resonates across all ages and borders; the issues raised are universal and I guess the world identifies with reality no matter how sordid.
 Why am I thinking about gangsta's paradise now?
Well, I was sitting minding my own business when this bit of human mystery was tabled. We were four patient people waiting to be attended to, three men and I when one of the men exclaimed "But we men are fools" in my mind I went 'you don't say', he then went on to regale us with stories of men's foolishness and women's treachery. When he was done, the second man took his turn and the third. Some of the stories were very sad and depressing, some humiliating and downright evil while others were hilarious and very unbelievable.I found one particularly ticklish. This one was related by the youngest of the three." I bin dey date this babe enh one time, after a while now, we started doing work, on this particular day, we don begin d work nah, she just got a call and told me that the guy on the other end was her fiance and asked for my permission for her to pick the call, wetin i for do nah, I allowed her to take the call, but I continue with the work, but, e come be like say the guy feel say something dey go on as she take dey breathe nah, so e be like say the fiance ask am wetin make am dey breathe like that, na iim this babe tell the guy she's having stomach pains, iim come ask am whether she don take anything for am, na iim my babe say she dey take something now. I nearly burst laughter there o but I maintain. Since that day enh, anytime a girl tells me she's having stomach upset over the phone, I just dey imagine say she dey with another guy dey do work o.Very difficult for me to believe them now" they all agreed all over again how treacherously evil women are. At this point I couldn't hold my silence anymore even though I knew I was outnumbered and outexperienced? oh well, I had to speak up for my gender. I told them that just as they have gathered to bemoan women's inhumanity to men, so do women gather to bemoan the beastly treatment of women by men. As I opened my mouth the stories, faces, names just flooded my mind: is it the beautiful to die for friend who was so tenaciously chased by one man for three years and when she finally gave in, discovered he had a wife and five children some days before her supposed wedding to him, or the one who got home one day to discover the fiance had changed the locks, burnt her things and moved in a legal wife,after having been engaged to him for four years or the one who was single handely raising six children that the husband had abandoned to her and travelled abroad, telling her he wasn't coming back, this happening after they had sold everything back in Nigeria to raise money for him to be able to travel abroad...too many unbelievable sob stories.
who is to blame? how do they start?
Men think women are evil
Women think men are beasts
A bad man sours a good woman who in turn pours her venom on another unsuspecting man who if he survives becomes the devil's incarnate to another woman and the cycle of meaness continues and hence the Gangsta's paradise thrives with us hurting you and me.
,

DHL family funfair

This year's DHL family funfair/end of year party came up on the 14th of Sept,2014. It was a beautiful time for the DHL family to come together and unwind and socialise with their larger families of all branches and extended families. Although the party came up very late in the year, it's supposed to have been ending of the year 2013, still, half buns is better than none or it could be that it was truly as they said simply a funfair and nothing more. Although they did ruffle some feathers. Each family was allowed a spouse and four children which did not go down well with those that have more than that. This raised an argument amongst some staff members when one of them grumbled that he had to select some of his children and leave the rest at home, he felt it was unfair to him, and stressed the point that it wasn't his fault that the 'oyibo' people no fit born pass two and he did not see why we blacks should swallow everything 'oyibo' says hook line and sinker as if we have no minds of our own. His summation brought out the guns. He was asked if he was a farmer and why he needed so many children at this present time especially considering the economic climate. He said that his father did not earn salary in his time yet had been able to raise him and his siblings well, so he did not see why same could not be the case with his children considering the fact that they had one up on him-they were already in the city. He also brought up the issue of the shoeless boy who has become a president despite all odds.  He made it sound like childhood poverty is the recipe for future success and should be courted at costs. Maybe it is. I ran into my petite hot model  friend Ijeoma Lilian Okoye who has defied the odds in the modelling world despite her height or lack of it. It was a day of food, music and general relaxation..

Chidi( Black) Kelechi Obinna

Today I mourn and celebrate my friend Lance Corporal Chidi kelechi Obinna who passed on just when his life was about to begin. Like one of those annoying ironies of life, he didn't fall by the expected enemy's bullet but by a seemingly common illness Tonsillitis related complications. I don't even understand what that is.

Chidi popularly referred to as Black by friends because of his generously abundant melanin pigmentation was one of the most focused young people I'd ever met. Back in school, aside from tackling Agricultural Economics in a Federal University of Technology, he was also concurrently running another course -Estate management- in Federal Polytechnic Nekede and he was also a soldier. Take that.

Prior to meeting him, I'd never really thought about soldiers as real people. You know flesh and blood. But he and his friends opened my eyes to another field of life, the joys and perils of it. More of Perils in my opinion. I mean even though a civilian knows he will die someday he can at least live in fantasy land and assume death is faraway not minding incident like a plane crashing into your building on a warm Sunday afternoon... But to an active military personnel, death and pain are constant realities. A friend of his once remarked "pain is your friend, it tells you that you're still in the land of the living". Another said "Everyman has a bullet with his name on it, and it'll find you wherever you are".

 He began his military career as a boy soldier when he was twelve years old  at Nigeria Military School NMS Zaria in 1996 and ever since then, service of motherland has been his life. He was always neat(seems soldiers are averse to dirt), well dressed, courteous with a wicked sense of humour, the definition of humility. Very unflappable. I remember always looking for ways to fluster him until he unwittingly handed me an arsenal. I overheard him asking a female friend of his why girls liked referring to each other as roomies (room mates) and bunkies (bunk mates), he asked her if she'd ever heard a guy say of another "oh he's my bunkie", he basically thought it was so lame and purely girls thing. I decided then to start calling him 'roomie' since he was rooming with my friend but then I thought 'bunkie' sounded more girlie so I took that one. I still recall the laughter of that first time I called him "my bunkie", his expression was priceless. But then he was such a good sport about it and the name stuck, so much so that when I ran into him at ISBN( International Standard Book Number)office in Lagos, I excitedly screamed "bunkie" without thinking. That outburst got us strange stares though. He had a knack for giving people nicknames as well, he used to refer to me as "Scholes" the one time Manchester United player or "madam".  He was fun, sociable and so alive.

Truly "the ground don chop better things"

Rest in peace my bunkie.

First Contact: Your bank in your pocket.

 The cashless society has come to stay although we seem to be undecided on how best to move forward what with this new reintroduction of ATM usage fees of N65 by the CBN governor Godwin Emefiele. I don't think this new service charge is going to aid the financial inclusion policies, I mean if I'm going to pay service charge for using my card at outlets not my parent banking institution which will include everywhere that you use POS services these days, which is everywhere, I might as well use my cash directly. Anyway, one of the telecommunications network came up with an innovative way to use the cashless society by introducing a new product that will  help to take the awareness drive of the financial inclusion even to the grassroots level and create more jobs.  I was privileged to be part of the presentation through a stage play tagged "CARRY GO"Your bank in your pocket written and directed by the amazing Israel Eboh. Needless to say I was ecstatic about the project. Incidentally I got to play my glamorous younger sister. The character description was fully her and I guess a bit of me but with her name. It was uncanny. Now, I get people referring to me as Itoro which is actually my real life younger sister's name. yeah uncanny!The experience was fantastic. Beautiful energetic dancers, equally energetic, funny and ebullient actors all warmly wrapped in music that everyone else seemed to know except me and I used to think I was a connoisseur of old school music. Oh well, I conquered it eventually. This project presented many firsts for me on different levels. I'll talk about it another time. I met very interesting unique individuals. Isioma Williams the gentle head traditional drummer with a voice that can melt a diamond and there was the multitalented actor/dancer Barr Ugo Obaiyo who always seems to have a smile and a helping hand. And others that require no elaborate introduction...Saeed Funkymallam, Okey Onyegbule aka Okey Bakassi, Aunty Kenny...There's too much untapped talent in Nigeria. Really. Rehearsals were at the National Council of Arts and Culture NCAC which presently looks like a neglected, abandoned first wife(we need to take care of our facilities; 'if we don't, who will'?) performance at the luxurious Eko hotel and suites. I have discovered that performances can go one of two ways: bad in which case you come down exceptionally drained and depressed or great, in which case you come down high. The performance was great. Backstage was even more fun.  I finally got to meet my lookalike the lovely singer Ego Ogbaro who thrilled the crowd with back to back hits. People always claim we lookalike( I guess it's due to our very prominent signature cheekbones)we should probably act awesome sisters some day.

Ebola: Naija no wan carry last

 'Naija no dey carry last' . I don't know the person that coined that saying but whoever she was, she must have studied Nigerians forensically because she hit the nail on the head. Ever since the Ebola outbreak, the frenzy that has enflamed Nigerians about this particular disease has no close second in my opinion yet. What with the whole salt drama that claimed its own victims, the mad rush for hand sanitizers which can be found in almost every shop and offices now, the prices off the chains, by the way, hand sanitizers are basically anti-bacterial while Ebola is a virus not a bacteria, the no contact policy of everybody now... That reminds me, have you noticed how kind God has been? Since the outbreak, the weather has been cool. What if it had happened during the hot season when everyone is sweating profusely? This is the tropics after all, it would have been catastrophic.
Today I went to do some business at the bank, on getting there I met a queue. I thought it was the usual door drama but as it turned out, the poor door was not at fault today. The queue was for Ebola scanning. We all lined up to be scanned and after passing the scanning test, we had to wash our hands in chlorine water first before we could proceed to meet the door phase. Something positive out of this? well, rest of mind for the day. At least you passed Ebola scanning today, you don't have it.
Okay, after my business with that particular bank, I went in to a shopping mall to get toiletries, again my hands were sanitized and so was the handle of the shopping cart. After my shopping,I had to do another banking, the second bank had no scanner just sanitizer, again I sanitized my hands( at this point I'm thinking to myself that I'll soon loose some of my epidermis or develop dry scaly hands or something in that area, already the current weather has not been very nice on the skin, the loss of  surface lipids due to the cold weather and the constant hot showers one is taking now because of the cold have all connived to rob one of surface moisture and now these sanitizers...That aside, I'm wondering how long business owners will continue to bear the mass sanitizing expense. But one thing is for sure Naija have not carried last in agitating over this Ebola outbreak even though it might be too little too late. I mean Ebola did not just miraculously surface in 2014. It's been around since 1976 and 'no be say na oyibo man sickness oh'. It was discovered first in Sudan, one would have thought that that would be a concern to Africans but obviously it wasn't as it turns out that others that might not have been directly involved were the ones carrying out research and had an answer when it affected them.
I read an appeal made by some people begging the US government to give us drugs and I was truly saddened, not because they were waiting for us to grovel first but because we had again told the outside world that we were incapable of caring for ourselves and will always need aid.

How do you heal a wound you've not recognised?

 My aunt told a story of someone who was shot at Ijesha market but ran all the way home to Lawanson without realising he'd been shot. He fainted when a family member pointed out the gunshot wound to him. It got me thinking: what if no one had pointed the wound out to him, what would have happened?
I recalled a personal incident that occurred on my matriculation day; after the whole formalities at the senate building, I got on a bike-bikes were our only means of transportation within and without the school environs, well unless you had your personal car which I didn't obviously- when we got on the short bridge over the infamous Otamiri river that we were constantly being warned never to venture near as it had the capacity to recognise non indigenes and whisk them away,the bike had a head on collision with a car.

At first I thought my head had been severed from my body, I was guessing my body was somewhere else going on its own because I couldn't feel it. Too much Tom and Jerry influence probably. Anyway, the driver of the car came out to fight the bike man and there was a raucous of noise. I touched my head gingerly and it was still there and I felt fine, normal, so I got back on the same bike that had almost ended my undergraduate journey before it began. I think I was in slow motion till I got to the hostel. Didn't speak to anyone, got on my bunk and slept immediately. A roomie woke me and asked why I was sleeping on my matric day while the fun was going on outside, that was when I broke out in cold sweat and fever, I was shivering so much I thought the up bunk will fall off. Thankfully, she left after the appropriate 'sorry o' when I said I wasn't feeling good. But then her question made me cry and rehash the whole incident in my head. What if she had not woken me and asked the question? Would I have cried? I'm supposedly a strong girl, I've often heard people refer to me as "ice goddess"

Therein lies my point.

Recently I've come across some 'strong people' who are so tightly coiled they're almost brittle. I recognise some of them because it seems like i'm looking at aspects of myself in them. Living in an environment where strength is expected of you has its perks and challenges like Ignoring all forms of pain.
In pharmacology we learnt about a group of hormone-like lipid compounds that have important functions in the animal body. Prostaglandins. They sensitize the spinal neurons to pain and transmit information to the brain amid a whole lot of other functions. They ring the alarm bell to let us know something is wrong so we can handle it. However,a particular drug, Aspirin which is often used as an analgesic to relieve minor aches and pains, as an antipyretic to reduce fever, and also used long-term, at low doses, to help prevent heart attacks, strokes, and blood clot formation blocks the pathway of Prostaglandins synthesis. This is a good thing as pain is not felt, but, continued long use of it can cause non-stop bleeding as it stops blood from clotting altogether which is another kettle of fish.

Prof Dora Nkem Akunyili through my eyes.

 When I heard about Professor Dora Akunyili's death I was stunned. I didn't realize I had loved her so, being hugely inspired by her was a given. I loved her confidence and energy; she had so much and excess to spare.

I remember once when she was interviewed on a night time programme on one of the local National TV stations: there were two male interviewers and she was seated between them on what looked either like a round or an oval table. I recall thinking that the sitting arrangement was done purposefully to box her in and maybe intimidate her a little. It probably wasn't, but, it appeared that way to me. It didn't work. I loved the way she would smile-it was as if she was goading them and saying bring it on' and say "thank you" before answering a rude or particularly intrusive question. They couldn't floor her, she was over prepared and didn't mince words. Very rapid words, I daresay, the very best of rappers would be impressed. In fact the interviewers came out looking so puny and flustered. She was amazing. It's not a wonder in 2006 she was awarded one of the eighteen heroes of our time by Time Magazine- oh and the awards came in torrents- This particular episode has stayed with me for a long time so much so that when I was getting ready for my project defense and my supervisor told me not to keep quiet, no matter the questions thrown at me by the lecturers, I immediately thought of her and that particular interview. She was a great influence. The numerous accolades which she so deserved that where awarded her are a testament of how good can triumph over evil.
When she was the Minister of Information and communication, although a brief stay, she brought the slogan: Nigeria Good People, Great Nation, she worked tirelessly to clean our image which didn't seem like much though,"the dirt that accumulates on the pot that firewood has been fuel for years does not break with ordinary soap"

Then she went into politics.

Now, even though I'm cautious with my emotions towards the political class although I tend to lean more to the side of distrust, I was reticent to mistrust her, I thought that just as she had been able to staunchly bring sanity to the pharmaceutical jungle in the country in just 7 years, she would do same in Anambra state. I don't think I was alone in this believe but alas it wasn't to be as she lost out to Chris Ngige in the senatorial race. Same Ngige who according to baba had come with his mentor another Chris to his office in Abuja and confessed they'd rigged the elections to get him Ngige into office. Err... Isn't it amazing how people commit public crimes in this country and not just go Scot free but also rub it in our faces and continue holding different offices and be revered as kingmakers? One person will be a governor, later a senator, later a minister, later an ambassador and back to governor.... and all the while leaving behind trails of crimes and misdemeanour, yet no one questions him? I've always wondered why we keep recycling the same people and names. Ever since I became conscious I've been hearing the same names in public office and it's not that they were particularly helpful to the people or extraordinary during their tenures. Don't they say "you do not change the winning formula? If this formula hasn't obviously worked, why haven't we changed it? Sigh. Well, back to Mrs Dora. She was extraordinary and made a girl see that it was possible to be as great as you want to be regardless of your gender. Adieu great woman.

My Journey with Obele and The Storyteller..........2

Work began in earnest.Friendships were quickly established and like I had predicted one of the situations unfolded. The lines merged and disappeared altogether albeit too soon for me in particular, I spent a greater part of my first week bitching to my roomie; the super talented and so loveable Ifybrown Monye about over familiarity -the poor girl tire for me- but then as in all things about most Nigerians, I adjusted. Yes, about Nigerians, something very intriguing happened in the first week we moved into the hotel, our new Namibian friend came to the room one day to complain about dust in the rooms, said she was having allergies to the dust, and other things and was going to a spa for therapy of some sort(I used to think allergies were a foreign ailment, not for Africans although after this encounter I had to just specify not for Nigerians), I recall exchanging glances with Ify.I did that a lot in the beginning because I couldn't decipher her language, Ify had caught on to her accent faster luckily for all of us. However, in this case, the exchanged looks wasn't because I did not understand her, the contrary was the case.You see in Nigeria we have become so accustomed to hardship that we take it for granted, we don't even realize we are suffering anymore, we adjust to and ride out all forms of storms that are directed at us. Allergies ko, spa ni. When last did you see a Nigerian faint or hear about it? rather we hear about people who just slump and die. Why? because they weathered so much hardship till the body simply expired of its own accord. But I digress...truth is, we didn't know we should be having allergies or discomforts because of  the starless hotel. When we knew, we met administration who did all they could -the Nigerian situation allowing- to make us comfortable. Good directors are unexpendable . They can point an actor in the direction of that wow factor. We had a good director.Israel Eboh. This would be my first time of meeting and working with him but his fame preceded him and that of others like Mr Dance himself who was the tallest with the Longest name that I have to shorten for my own pleasure Anthony Offiong, Frank Konwea and Uche Onah..
Then I met this most humble,warm and diplomatic producer whose heart of gold can be seen on her beautiful face Bikiya Graham Douglas. So eloquent. Been in her presence you can't help but feel like you're in the presence of royalty. Reminded me of a physics lecturer I had in the university Professor Eze who made us all want to ace Physics not for ourselves alone but to make him proud because he hadn't seen it as an inconvenience to teach freshers and had never made us feel inadequate but rather was so truthful and encouraging that we just wanted to do well to justify his faith in us.

 I had some personal reservations about some of  the cast from the beginning but two people absolutely astounded and shamed my thoughts. Anthony: I came with an albatross on my shoulders about 'Veterans' and 'fine boys' and he fell under both. The first time I saw him, I thought to myself "behold the peacock" but he turned out to be everything but all I had assumed he would be.He was truly humble. He it was who had the patience to teach everyone else their dance steps even though he was not obliged to, he it was who gave and demonstrated the best workouts to help us feel our joints again after the rehearsals, humbly made and served us cocktails, had our backs when Uche wanted to have our heads for not giving him his movements back perfectly, he was never too tired to be of assistance to any one although in retrospect I wish he had been  then he won't have brought up that early morning jogging. There is a time in the morning when sleep is sweetest, he stole that part. I forgive him though. And there was the ladies teddy bear,the  amazing medicine man Princewill Emanuel........

My journey with Obele And The Storyteller ..pt 1

Every new project has its peculiar demands and blessings. This is the first thing I discovered in Portharcourt as we began our month long rehearsal of Obele and The Storyteller the drama presentation for the Opening ceremony of the UNESCO Portharcourt World Book Capital 2014.
First of was the mystery.
As of the time we left Lagos, I didn't know anything about the story, my character in the play, all I knew for a fact was that I'll "perform"in the play. My interest was piqued of course-sly people, they probably knew that would be the case-
On the day before departure, I met some of the cast members at the Lagos office. There appeared to be two polarising temperamental 'formings': there were the very crazy body biting me cannot sit in one place and definitely cannot be quiet in the right corner and the oh please i'm a diva and I only open my mouth after you pay at the left corner. Now, going by the little experience I've garnered about artists(they are the most volatile Homo sapiens I've met so far) two situations were likely to unfold from this creative ensemble, one of which would be that these two boxes will mix and the line separating them would become faint or the lines could become deeply etched and clearer resulting in two or more political parties.
Let the games begin.......

As we got to the untarred International arrivals of Portharcourt airport, while waiting for our luggage to be brought around by the human conveyor belt the mixing began in earnest. I tried to size up the director whom I thought had engineered the first communion service of plantain chips with well, nothing that we had on board and figure out those who had brought their houses along in their luggage. My new Namibian friend(who was not yet a friend as of then but whom I had forced to become a photographer at the Lagos airport-Margaret Shikuyele) was a semi culprit. I asked her if she was coming from omugwo, I don't think she understood or heard as she seemed to permanently have ear piece on. There was the other opposite too. The incredible dance choreographer Uche Onah who carried a light backpack that I couldn't help but wonder if he had just dancers tights in it. There couldn't possibly be anything else in there. How was he going to survive one month with whatever was in that tiny backpack? In retrospect now, I shake my head at myself for 'swallowing panadol for headache wey another person no even get sef' .
We got into the bus and someone asked for my Bluetooth name in order to exchange pictures, when I told him, people laughed. I didn't get the joke or was there something else in the air that was making them high? Anyway, we were all very excited . Like we used to say in National youth service camp "Morale was high"and we couldn't wait to get the show on the road...

The Nigerian conundrum. Reminiscing about the UNESCO Portharcourt World Book Capital 2014.

Fresh back from Port Harcourt UNESCO World Book Capital 2014 opening ceremony. I decided to continue in the spirit of the motto: Open a book. Open possibilities. Don't get me wrong, I love reading. Have always done so. I just discovered that in recent times, the pursuit of my cheese has made it seem like there wasn't enough time to take in the wonderful adventures of a new book. I decided to create the time. Apparently it was the right time as the moons seemingly aligned and I got not one but three of my presently most sought after books. Ah heaven. Usually, when I'm on the journey with an author I tend to forget the present, but this time has been different.
The past month has been a tumultuous time in the country: The abduction of more than 276 female final year secondary school students who went to write their final examinations by Shekarau led terrorist group Boko Haram in Chibok Borno state on the 14-15TH of April 2014. The subsequent bone chilling statements by Shekarau to turn them into sex slaves, force them into marriage and generally dehumanize them as he sees fit and the tellingly loud silence of the northern elites who came out to play to the gallery only after outsiders were interested. The crime of the victims being that they are girls and should not be in school.

This happening in the face of the great feat Nigeria just recorded by Port Harcourt being the first Sub-Saharan city to be named UNESCO World Book Capital and playing host to great writers and lovers of the written word in one space.

In 2001 Agbani Darego made history in South Africa when she became the first black African to claim the Miss World title and established Nigeria in the record books in that sphere, a great feat indeed. The following year 2002 December 7th Nigeria was about to harvest the result of that feat by hosting the beautiful world: Miss world 2002. It was sadly not to be as it was abandoned after three days of reckless carnage by angry Muslim mobs which left more than 100 people dead and countless property destroyed and of course completely obliterated the chances of Nigeria ever hosting it again in the near future.
Prior to the commencement of the 24th World Economic Forum on Africa in Abuja which was slated to hold from May 7-9, there were the bombings in Abuja. This is the first time Nigeria and indeed West Africa will be hosting this forum and indications were already in the air of how unsafe Nigeria was to host this prestigious economic affair which makes one wonder how these insurgents seem to know the government's itinerary in advance. Thankfully another feat did not go down the drain.
It's like pouring cold water on one to wake them. It feels like the harder Nigeria tries to reach for the light, the harder a particular sect keep dragging it back, smearing it with dirt, trying its utmost best to drown it in dismay and darkness. Coincidentally, the three books I got are all talking about Nigeria. It turns out that the problems plaguing her have been the same since her amalgamation: A forced marriage between two opposites who over the years have not found a common ground and therefore no root to foster love on. While one partner is wanting to grow and explore, the other does not want any form of change or association with those not of its kind. And that is what most see as the Conundrum.

Murdered before Life

On my way back from work today I met a sad story. A group of students gathered most times means there's probably an ongoing fight with someone looking to be crowned the street champion.However today's crowd was different;adults were present and everyone seemed to be whispering a very oddity for students who exist for noise. As I got up close I asked a student what the problem was and he said "na baby", so I looked down the canal and there it was a baby laying in the canal mud. oh my God I could literally hear my heart break. I would have loved to update you with pictures but truthfully i couldn't see past the immediate tears that welled neither did I have the willpower to stand there another second. I had been in too much of a hurry in the morning to notice and now I was just angry at these people gathered and mopping at the baby , angry at the mother that had snuffed life out of the baby, I kept wondering what she'd done, how she'd felt, did she kill the baby first before dropping it or did she drop it alive and let it be tortured by the cold to death? what could have driven a woman to go through nine long months of pregnancy, hours of torturous labour pains only to throw the baby away?what? Every time I hear women talk about childbirth and all it entails I'm always fascinated and scared at the same time. what happened to that joy you're supposed to feel immediately the labour pains subside? I know couples who have had bad marriages, separation, broken homes all as a result of no children in the marriage. Yet here was one thrown away.Many questions came to mind: Like why not give up the child for adoption? why even become pregnant in the first place when you know you're not ready? if you're big enough to have sex why not use a contraceptive? or is it someone that was raped and had no choice but to get pregnant? is it a mad person's doing? a young scared girl? a ritual?  my dad used to say that "the onus is on the owner to take care of what belongs to her"so it's not possible that this mother did not explore options in her mind during these nine months of expectancy, what if this is going to be the only child that she would ever have?  Is it possible this was the solution she could come up with? whose fault is it?I don't understand so many things in life. Days like these drain me.

The girl, contraceptives and the uncle 2

I was home at the weekend when one of my protegees Sophie showed up with a new friend of hers Ebiere(not real names... you know why)looking very depressed. I offered food-she lives with an aunty- in the course of the lunch the story poured out. I'll try to summarise. Sophie stays with an aunty who has conveniently forgotten what it is like to be a teenager, does not communicate with her but feels better reporting Sophie to all who care to listen including me about Sophie's waywardness and stubbornness. Meanwhile, Sophie is going through lots of changes hormonally, physically...She is in Junior Secondary class 3 with a body of a vixen and as a result, many 'uncles' have become very nice and kind to her especially in the neighbourhood where they live. Sophie has already had sex with her neighbour uncle because he is very nice and helps with school work especially when she repeated a class. she doesn't really consider it a big deal since she's been doing it with him since junior secondary 1. The Thursday before in school, another friend of hers where she goes to make her hair had invited her over to go see her 'uncle' friend, when she got there, while waiting for the friend, the uncle raped her and later informed her that that was her friend's business(she supplies girls from school to 'uncles'), now Sophie is worried about being pregnant because he was rough. And of course the big question came "what should I do?" As they both looked at me like I had answers to the world's problems I had to use the excuse of eating to think. So many thoughts were racing through my mind...the fact that she wasn't concerned about a venereal disease, HIV/AIDS.. but just pregnancy,  the 'uncles' she was sleeping with steadily and gently did they use condoms? Sophie just turned sixteen meaning she's been sexually active since fourteen. Telling her she was too young to have sex because it's wrong and because she cannot handle the consequences will be crying over spilt milk, also won't telling her about contraceptives be encouraging her?..I ate for a long time...

The girl, Contraceptives and the Uncle 1

I became a counselor not willingly but by serendipity. I just discovered that younger girls seemed to gravitate towards me, I have lots of younger cousins who in turn have lots of friends.... At first I resisted it but then I thought why not? If I could do some good with it, why not?
As a senior friend to my younger friends I get to hear lots of stories and get to offer advices. I found that my younger friends would rather tell me about their escapades than their parents. Most of the stories seemed to rotate around "Uncles". Now, in secondary school we were taught in social studies about family nuclear and extended with the nuclear family consisting of  parents and children while the extended has the parents and children with their close relatives sometimes living in close proximity. The operative word here is 'close relative'. However, in recent times the words 'uncles' and 'aunties' have been used loosely to include even none relatives not to talk of close ones. These days, anyone can be an 'uncle'; teacher, neighbour, brother's friend, father's friend,driver, gate-man you name it., the concept of a stranger seems to be lost .Barriers that should somewhat be a protection for a young girl is removed with that single word and with it gone, a lot of harm has been perpetrated by these 'uncles' and 'aunties'