Category: Korede Yishau

  • Despite the rough times

    Despite the rough times

    With one American dollar, we are now sure of at least a thousand naira. Forget the official rate. The fuel price is at all-time high because the subsidy that kept it cheap is almost gone. Almost because if some of it is not left, the price will be more than it is. 

    The floating of the dollar and the near absence of subsidy have far-reaching effects, which, one way or the other, have to abate soonest. 

    Also, in the last few years, our nation has been bedevilled with incidents capable of precipitating a civil war: In the Southeast, police stations are attacked and razed, private properties are set on fire and human beings are felled like fowls. In the Southwest, herdsmen and kidnappers are on the prowl, ethnic champions are singing Oduduwa instead of Hallelujah, and some elders are chorusing to your tent oh Israel. Terrorists-cum-bandits-cum-kidnappers have turned the North into their haven, their territory where they do and undo. 

    Those behind these acts are carrying on as though we want to finish what is left of ourselves. Yet, ours is a blessed nation with gold, oil and gas, tantalite and beauties such as Mambilla Plateau and Farin Ruwa Falls, friendly soils, and a people ready to give their best.

    We have brilliant souls scattered all over the world and doing wonders in their adopted nations. We have a young population that understands the ins and outs of technology and can manipulate it to our advantage. When our average brains go abroad for education, they turn out in flying colours.

    As blessed as we are with these brains, these beauties and these resources, we are also blessed with leaders who, at the sign of a headache, take the next available flight to London or New York for medical examination. We are also blessed with a political class that steal with their future generation in mind; we are fortunate enough to have men and women in positions of authorities all because they want to decorate their garages and wardrobes with the best in automobiles and jewelleries; and we are blessed with leaders who will tell us to pray over a problem or challenge we elect them to resolve.

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    We have in abundance people in positions of authority who still convert commonwealth to theirs and brazenly acquire estates. There are public office holders in Nigeria whose country homes are as big as some villages. Their garages brim with vehicles running into tens; and many are gathering dust. They own homes in Asokoro, Banana Island, Maitama, Ikoyi, GRA Port Harcourt, GRA Enugu and in cities across the world, especially London, New York and Paris — many of them empty and only occupied for a few days throughout the year.

    In our nation, hard work is not the only way of making money. Graduates cannot even get employed. Thousands of graduates roam the streets every day looking for jobs, man-know-man dictates the pace, and we are yet to rid our society of the bribery-to-receive-favour syndrome. Personal interests are sold as general interests. Politicians jump ship to retain their control of the public tills, yet sing at every given opportunity that they are in power to serve and are making sacrifices for the betterment of our nation.

    If God had wanted prayers to be the solution to pervasive poverty, it is not beyond Him. If He had wanted prayers to fix roads, make Nigeria number one on the sustainable development goal index, and stop being the country with the second-highest number of deaths of children under the age of five, He will do it. But He wants us to use our brains, and so no amount of prayers we say can do for us what He expects us to do with our brains!

    The United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) says no fewer than 250,000 children in Nigeria die on their first day of life. The figure is the second highest in the world, according to the 2017 multi-indicator cluster survey. A child born in Nigeria today, no thanks to this situation, is likely to live till the year 2074, while a child born in Denmark is likely to live until the 22nd century! The quality of life is a different kettle of fish. Most of these children regrettably die from preventable causes such as premature births, complications during delivery, infections like sepsis, malaria and pneumonia. You have shown us times without number that prayers cannot stop this, only policies and programmes can.

    We badly need more investments to grow our economy at a higher rate to be able to lift 100 million people out of poverty.

    The North/South dichotomy is still very real. We still look at the country from this prism. Till this day, the North still does not trust the South and the South does not trust the North. And in the North, the Middle Belt is dissociating itself from what is known as core North. In the South, the Yoruba, the Igbo and the Niger Delta are also doing their own battles. As it was in the beginning so it is now.

    Our oil reserves have made us unable to think. Oil has been a curse and a blessing. This curse began with the enactment of the Mineral Ordinance by Nigeria’s first Governor-General Sir Frederick Luggard in 1914. In 1937, the British colonial government gave the exclusive rights of exploration and exploitation to Shell D’Arcy, which could not actualise this mandate because of the Second World War, and a year later entered into collaboration with British Petroleum — formerly Anglo-Persian Oil Company— for oil prospection in Nigeria. Their early efforts yielded 450 barrels of crude oil in Akata I Well in 1951. Further successes were made in Oloibiri in 1956 and Bomu Oil Field in 1958, when oil was struck in commercial quantity.

    My final take: Despite the rough times, Nigeria remains ours and, with time, we will have the Nigeria we all will be proud of. We will. 

  • People fear what they don’t understand

    People fear what they don’t understand

    There is a new movie on Netflix. Titled “Can You See Us?” and set in a Tanzanian community, it is about a boy born with albinism and rejected by his biological father. Raised by his mother and a man she met after being thrown out, Joseph is taught to love despite the hate shown him. He is made to believe that people fear, and seek to destroy, what they don’t understand. He thus sees it as his responsibility to educate them, to make them know he is not dangerous, to make them know he is not a spirit, to make them know he is just like every other person. The only thing different about him is pigmentation, not his humanity. 

    The boy’s story is intertwined with that of a man who people in the community don’t understand, call a madman and also treat differently. 

    When Joseph and the man meet, he is afraid the man will throw him into a well. That was what he learnt about the man. The smart and inquisitive Joseph eventually understands the man and sees the similarity in the way the world reacts to things they can’t decipher. 

    The story can also be set in Nigeria. Some years back in Taraba State, a woman was delivered of a set of twins with albinism. The ignorant said it was a sign of witchcraft. The babies were permanently locked in a room as the family didn’t want people to see them. They were seen as embarrassment to the family. The father even doubted their paternity, just because of their pigmentation challenge. Looking like him meant nothing.

    Jake Epelle, who is perhaps Nigeria’s most popular albino, was rejected by his mother. His father filled the gap. 

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    His experience: “My classmates would gather round me, pin me down and turn my face towards the sun. They knew that it was wrong for people like me to be exposed to sunlight talk less of facing it without protection. But these boys would not bother, even when I begged them and promised to buy whatever they wanted; they would not let me go. Several days, they would take me to the field, pin me down and turn my eyes to the scorching sun. It was such a terrible experience.

    “I was the only albino in the family, but I had a father who was my hero and he was particular about me. Though some people abused me and mocked my complexion, he used to tell me that I would be a star and whenever he had meetings, he took me along.

     ”He exposed me and was proud to show me off. But my mother hardly related with me and was not close to me. We lived in the same house for three years and I hardly knew her. It was my stepmother who acted as my mother and she was a morale booster. In fact, everyone thought she was my real mother.

     ”I used to love going to parties and whenever I went to parties, there was no girl to dance with me. Any girl who mustered the courage to dance with me would run away after some minutes with the excuse that she had someone she was dancing with.

     ”If I asked any girl out, she would refuse and some agreed out of curiosity. They wanted to know what this guy possesses.”

    Albinism exists in all races. It is not a black race issue. Even mammals, reptiles, fishes and birds suffer from this challenge. Ocular albinism affects the eyes but means having a bit of more melanin content in the system but Oculocutaneous albinism makes the hair golden, the skin ivory and it also involves the skin and the eyes.

    Nigeria is believed to have over 6 million albinos, one of 17,000 is an Albino in America, one of 20,000 in Britain is an albino, and one of 15,000 in Australia is an albino. 

    The Yoruba call them Afin, in Igbo, they are Anyali, they are Zebia in Hausa, they are Eyaen in Bini, Ugobu in Idoma, and Mbakara Obot Ikot in Efik.

    There are so many things we demonise because we don’t understand them. Aside albinos, queer folks also receive the same treatment. Creatives who keep to themselves in order to create also receive unfair treatment. Like the man who Joseph met, they’re called madmen and stories made about them. 

    Ironically, even Joseph’s mother is guilty of fearing what she doesn’t understand. She can’t decipher the creative mind his son associates with and calls him a madman, and also suspects him of being responsible for an attack on Joseph by those who feel his red blood cell contains some form of antidote. He turns out to be a major factor in how his future is shaped. 

    My final take: What we don’t understand is not necessarily dangerous. We need to accept this truth and preach it. That way our world will be better and safer. 

  • Memoirs I want to read

    Memoirs I want to read

    These memoirs I want to read haven’t been written and I’m not sure they will ever be written. One of them should have been written by Emeka Odumegwu Ojukwu, about the Nigerian-Biafran civil war. He was leader of the Biafra. The words of the memoir have been interred with his bones. My plea now is to Yakubu Jack Gowon, who was Nigerian leader at the time, to give us his war memoir. But it also looks unlikely that this plea will be heeded. Gowon, still very much alive, in the spirit of ‘no victory, no vanquished’, seems very prepared to take this vital part of Nigeria’s history with him when his time is up.

    Reading a recent column of Prof. Olatunji Dare on Novelist Prof. Wole Soyinka at 89, I am more than convinced that Dr. Doyin Abiola should write a memoir on the June 12 crisis and her exciting times as a record-breaking journalist. It will be interesting to find out what was going on in the MKO Abiola family while the drama lasted and other juicy details I am convinced she has documented, for now, in her memory and needs to be downloaded on paper. And she has the mental and writing skills to do this. Will she oblige me?

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    Another person I’m hoping will oblige me is one of the envoys President Bola Tinubu has just recalled and thanked for their services. She is Dr Elizabeth Emenike, who was our envoy to the Republic of Ireland, before the then President, Muhammadu Buhari, named her the first female Nigerian ambassador to the U.S. It will be interesting to read the memoir of this record breaker’s sojourn in DC, and even in Dublin. Incidentally, her husband, Chief Ikechi Emenike, from snippets I have heard, has had fascinating experiences with finance ministers across Africa, especially West Africa, for decades. As the publisher of specialised Afro-centric magazines, he has had dealings with the drivers of economies. He has traversed that corridor like no one else I know. His adventures are the sort that will also make a readable memoir, the type I’m dying to lay my hands on. 

    The list is long but for now I rest my case. 

  • This thing called politics 

    This thing called politics 

    Not everyone can play competitive politics. The politics of vying for elective position. The beginning of this reality, for me, dates back to the late 90s when lecturers at the Nigerian Institute of Journalism (NIJ), Ogba, Lagos State, provided some of us the tools to become award-winning journalists. In that brimming compound, which shares fence with the West African Examination Council (WAEC), I also learnt about rough-tackle politics, not from lecturers, but students vying for leadership slots. 

    While there, I was prevailed on to accept a leadership position. I can’t remember what it was. It turned out I was supposed to fight for the position with someone I greatly respected. We were to campaign and win support. Campaigning meant highlighting why I deserved the position ahead of my opponent. It also meant rubbishing his reasons for believing he was the right person for the job. I opted out because I couldn’t see myself rubbishing a friend because of a leadership position.

    During a Student Union election, the two presidential candidates were close to me, and the campaigns became so divisive that I found myself in a dilemma. My way out: I stayed away from school on the election day.

    These were two of those times I doubted if I would make a good candidate for an elective position. I have since accepted this reality, which first hit me back in Ogba.

    I remember these incidents and related ones because of a book I recently read, ‘Kamala’s Way’. One of the several incidents recalled in the book happened during the Democratic Party’s presidential ticket nomination process. 

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    This is what happened: Kamala Harris, the United States vice-president, queried the race credential of Joe Biden, who is now her principal, during the race for the Democratic party’s nomination ticket. A disappointed Biden replied: “I thought we are friends.” Harris’ defence was that they were at a debate and she was in order. Both of them pappered over the cracks and she eventually emerged his running mate, and they won, and she excitedly screamed to him on phone: “We did it, Joe.” 

    Harris and Beau, Biden’s now deceased son, were close friends, a friendship they formed when they were Attorney Generals in their states. It was this friendship that Beau’s father took into account to overlook her ‘transgression’. 

    Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton also had their moment during the race for the Democratic Party’s presidential ticket. Hillary’s husband, Bill, also joined in the cut-Barack-down project. Eventually, they all resolved their differences. Hillary became Obama’s Secretary of State and he later supported her to succeed him, a dream Donald Trump cut short.

    For outsiders like me, the allegations these guys made against one another were ‘unforgivable’. But, in politics, like in war, all is fair. That was why Harris said she was just debating and in debates, you look for points that will give you advantage even if you don’t personally believe in this point. 

    My reading of politicians all over the world shows that they are nearly the same. Their strategies may look different but, ultimately, the goal is the same. 

    If you think Nigeria is the only place politicians, especially lawmakers, get favours from the executive arm of government in exchange for passing a piece of legislation, you need to read Barack Obama’s ‘A Promised Land’.

    Even in America, lawmakers withhold support for a piece of legislation because the law will hurt their donors and because it could make them look like they are supporting the opposition. The interest of the people is jettisoned. 

    Politics promote values that make the rich keep getting richer, and the poor poorer; and the life of an average citizen isn’t worth much. 

    Politics make men and women elected to serve look the other way and give rise to situations where values are debased, where potentials aren’t fully utilised, where leaders are dealers, and where the political class sees nothing wrong in shedding some blood to attain political power. 

    This thing called politics, in the main, is about interests, the interests of the players; the people are largely secondary, no matter the pretence to the contrary. How do we explain that after bitter battles, Senators Ibikunle Amosun and Gbenga Daniel are now in the same camp with President Bola Ahmed Tinubu? Interests. How do we explain that after bitter rivalry over the governorship of Osun State, which led to deaths and injuries, Rauf Aregbesola and Olagunsoye Oyinlola later stood on the same podium as allies? Interests. How do we explain Nyesom Wike and Nasir El-Rufai and Tinubu working together? Interests. 

    International politics, the one nicknamed diplomacy, makes a powerful nation use its wealth to repress the less powerful ones. They hide under aids giving to exercise control on foreign markets and stylishly hurting the recipient’s economy. France, Britain, America, China and co are scrambling to help Africa but beneath this is politics, politics to control our resources, politics to have access to our huge market guaranteed by ever increasing population, and politics to make us subservient for a long time.

    Russia, America and France are currently playing politics with the coup in Niger Republic. On the surface, it looks like it is about the protection of democracy and sovereignty. But, beneath is the real reason: Interests. 

    My final take: This thing called politics is all about interests. Today’s enemies can become allies tomorrow when their interests collide. It doesn’t matter whether or not their supporters at a time killed themselves or inflicted permanent or temporary injuries on one another. All seems fair in politics. Winning is what matters.

    To Ajuri Ngelale

    The first time you took a precious slot in my mind was not during yours days at the African Independent Television (AIT), neither were they during your time at Channels TV. It was during your interview with CNN’s Zain Asher in the heat of the last presidential election. I simply loved the way you handled the questions. You were interested in stating the facts as known to you. So, when you were made the presidential Spokesperson and you said you would not look down on Nigerians in doing your job, I remembered that CNN encounter again. 

    As a trained PR person, I know that the job of a Spokesperson is to present the facts and to also apologise when things go wrong. Abusing people is never part of the drill. So far, you seem to understand what is at stake and you remind me of the great Gbemiga Ogunleye, ex-Punch editor and ex-NIJ provost, who as Corporate Affairs Manager of Arik Air in its early days was never combative in pushing the airline’s position. He simply explained things and left the public to take a position. 

    I wish you well in your assignment and hope you will not depart from the path you have set for yourself. Do not abuse Nigerians, even the President’s harshest enemies. Just present your case as brilliant as possibly. 

    All the best!

  • To Ajuri Ngelale

    To Ajuri Ngelale

    The first time you took a precious slot in my mind was not during yours days at the African Independent Television (AIT), neither were they during your time at Channels TV. It was during your interview with CNN’s Zain Asher in the heat of the last presidential election. I simply loved the way you handled the questions. You were interested in stating the facts as known to you. So, when you were made the presidential Spokesperson and you said you would not look down on Nigerians in doing your job, I remembered that CNN encounter again. 

    Read Also; Nnamdi Kanu not responsible for insecurity in Southeast – Governors

    As a trained PR person, I know that the job of a Spokesperson is to present the facts and to also apologise when things go wrong. Abusing people is never part of the drill. So far, you seem to understand what is at stake and you remind me of the great Gbemiga Ogunleye, ex-Punch editor and ex-NIJ provost, who as Corporate Affairs Manager of Arik Air in its early days was never combative in pushing the airline’s position. He simply explained things and left the public to take a position. 

    I wish you well in your assignment and hope you will not depart from the path you have set for yourself. Do not abuse Nigerians, even the President’s harshest enemies. Just present your case as brilliant as possible. 

    All the best!

  • ‘Don’t answer when they call your name’

    ‘Don’t answer when they call your name’

    One of the concepts Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie is renowned for is ‘the danger of the single story’. Ukamaka Olisakwe’s young adult novel, ‘Don’t Answer When They Call Your Name’, deals, in a way, with this. Times are, many times indeed, that a story is told from one perspective and it assumes a life difficult to dispel. In such instances, the world glosses over the fact that “evil is an incomplete story”, which “tells the story from one point of view”.

    The story at the heart of Olisakwe’s book is one that was told and told and told and told to the point that the possibility of there being another side to it was not given a chance. All that stopped when a girl, unaware of her powers, met the woman they had been told was responsible for their woes.

    The novel follows Adanne, a thirteen-year-old girl, who knows suffering the way a mother knows her child. Her mother and others in their community are partakers of this damned existence. They are all paying the price for the Original Sin committed by an ancestor known as Mother.

    All through Adanne’s childhood, she heard the story of Mother, whose ambition was to be the best possible and she sought no undue advantage to reach the zenith. But, her father felt she was asking for too much. He was all smiles as he sent her off to a man’s house as a wife when she was not ready. She was tricked into believing that in her husband’s house she could be whatever she wanted to be. It took just a little time for her to realise she had been scammed to become a wife. The fraud was just beginning. Her resolve to be who she wanted to be was the tonic her husband, Big Father, needed to set her on the path of motherhood when she was not ready. He decided her into having not one, not two, not three but four boys for him. And she demanded the ultimate prize for this humongous stride, she was told it was not time. And when it dawned on her that the husband never intended to fulfill his promise, she wrought damages.

    For causing chaos, she was banished into the “Forest of Iniquity”. But, she never stopped seeking revenge and she loomed large over the people in Ani mmadu.

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    Adanne turns out the one who “can walk through worlds” without shedding her body. The novel is also about her dog, a worthy partner in a quest to change their community’s destiny.

    The story is set in two worlds, the one we know and the one we will never truly understand, where geysers are needed for access, where marbled palaces exist under water, where anything is possible. The part of the setting that we know is clearly Igbo.

    The fantasy rooted in Igbo mythology highlights the suffering of women and how they escape these sufferings.

    In “Do Not Answer When They Call Your Name,” Olisakwe’s interest is not to paint women as saints.Though the author’s feminist roots glitter all through, she displays their flaws, but you are also made to see that when you push them to the wall, they can turn at you and the results are usually brutal.

    Olisakwe knows how to build tension. She takes us on a ride that leaves us gasping for breath. There is magic in the transition between one chapter and the next as most chapters end on a cliff-hanger and will force you to turn to the next page.

    ‘Don’t Answer When They Call Your Name’ is a feat worthy of a thousand salutations.

  • A world of suspicions

    A world of suspicions

    The world is not simple. It is crazily complex. Read, listen or watch the news today and the complexity of our world will daze you and even almost crush you. For our mental health, at times, we need to turn off from the dizzying pace news break. And beneath the bulk of the wahala of this world is suspicion. 

    In this world, we have different races, we have different religions, we have different tribes, and we have different this and that. Between each religion, each race, each time and each this and each that, we also have differences.

    Let’s take religion, for instance. The world is not just about Christianity and Islam. But let’s use them as case studies. In Islam, there are Shiites and there are Sunnis. In Christianity, we have the Orthodox and the Pentecostal. The orthodox is not just one, just as the Pentecostal aren’t just one. Strife has been in the church since the early church because people do not allow God to fully rule.

     In Nigeria, for instance, protestant churches, especially the white garment ones, are seen as practising diluted Christianity or Africanised-Christianity. A Pentecostal pastor recently voiced out what many a Pentecostal Christian feels about the Celestial Church of Christ (CCC). The Pentecostal churches also feel somehow about the Catholic Church, especially its respect for Mary, the mother of Jesus Christ. Some even describe this as idolatry.

    For decades, Catholics and Protestants had a conflict in North Ireland, which was only resolved through what is known as the 1998 Good Friday Agreement brokered by former U.S. Senate Majority Leader George Mitchell. Suspicion was behind the conflict.

    Interestingly, even within the Pentecostal movement, one denomination sees something objectionable about the other. The situation within the Nigerian churches in the Diaspora is one of disunity, especially in America, where I have called home for some time now.

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     A recent Houston visit of the General Overseer of the Redeemed Christianity Church of God (RCCG), Pastor Enoch Adejare Adeboye, further exposed this schism. Adeboye was in Houston on the invitation of a teacher of the gospel considered junior by some pastors in the city. He narrated his ordeal at an RCCG church and expressed disgust at the opposition against him. There are silent and loud battles within the Pentecostal movement in Houston. Behind them is suspicion about one another’s motive. The Adamic nature of man to struggle for relevance, position, materials and fortunes has taken firm root in the rank. They have been unable to shun competition and embrace unity.

     Between the Sunnis and the Shiites, the suspicion is over who is practising real Islam. Somewhere in between is the root of the fundamentalism tearing nations apart. The sort of Islam propagated by fundamentalists, for instance, is suspicious of Western education and any Moslem who embraces it is seen as an infidel. It is a crazy situation out there.

     Ethnic groups are also suspicious of one another. Our experience in Nigeria is a good example. Igbo, Yoruba, Hausa and others don’t fully trust the other. There are also the ridiculous cases of Yoruba sub-groups being suspicious of one another. there are stereotypes about Ijebu, Egba, Ijesha and others, all caused by agelong suspicions. We have similar situation in the Southeast, which fuels debates about who is more Igbo than the other.

    Nations are also suspicious of one another. America is suspicious of almost every move by China and vice versa. Russia and America also share this mutual suspicion.

    Since 9/11, anyone wearing hijab or niqab is held in suspicion in the Western world. A Moslem U.S. diplomat was recently humiliated by a policeman in Europe, who was later shocked when her identity was revealed.

     My final take: While some suspicions are baseless, others are genuine. Unfortunately, both types of suspicions are at the root of the absence of peace in our society. Dig down into wars and crises around the world and you will find suspicions at the core. These suspicions, many of them, were bequeathed to our fathers by their fathers who also inherited it from their fathers. We need to rise above them but are we ready to.

  • Erelu Bisi Adeleye-Fayemi

    Erelu Bisi Adeleye-Fayemi

    Erelu Bisi Adeleye-Fayemi, who clocked 60 last Sunday, didn’t become renowned because her husband, Dr. Kayode Fayemi, was elected Ekiti State governor. The fact that a Nobel Peace Prize winner, Leymah Gbowee, describes her as her mentor is a testament of her influence in Africa and beyond. 

    Her story is interesting. 

    After youth service, she hung around Lagos for a while looking for work. Journalism excited her. She did a couple of stories for The Guardian. But she later opted to take up an admission at the University of Ife to do a Masters in History in 1986. And that was where she met her husband, John Kayode Fayemi, who was Ekiti State governor. She left Ife in 1988 and went to England. With her citizenship of the United Kingdom (UK), she was able to secure a job with the British Civil Service in February 1989. In May 1989, Fayemi joined her in England and they got married on September 2, 1989.

    She soon realised that the British civil service was too small to accommodate her dream and so in January 1991, she left the civil service to start work at Akina Mama wa Africa (AMWA), where she was for 10 years. In 2001, she moved to Accra, Ghana to start the African Women Development Fund (AWFD) and was there for ten years roughly. While at AWDF, she had to deal with people like the legendary Nelson Mandela, Gracia Marcel, Belinda Gates, President of Rockefeller and the President of Ford Foundation. One of her mentees, Leyman Roberta Gbowee, ended up winning the Nobel Peace Prize.

    By the time she berthed in Ekiti in October 2010, she had practically seen all. Having operated at the international scene for some two decades, she was fully made to function as the wife of governor. Little wonder Senator Babafemi Ojudu then said the Ekiti people voted for one governor and got an extra in his wife.

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    On April 5, 2011, she was presented with the David Rockefeller Bridging Leadership Award, one of the most prestigious awards in the field of philanthropy. She joined the rank of past winners such as the late Nelson Mandela, Liberian President Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf, Sheela Pattel, Fazle Hasan and Queen Raina of Jordan.

    She was a 2007 recipient of the prestigious ‘Changing the face of Philanthropy’ award from the Women’s Funding Network, USA, a Synergos Senior Fellow, as well as the 2000/2001 holder of the Dame Nita Barrow Distinguished Visitorship at Ontario Institute for Studies in Education (OISE) University of Toronto.

    She was Co-Chair International Network of Women’s Funds (2004-2006), Honorary President, Association for Women’s Rights in Development (AWID) (2003-2005) and Trustee, Comic Relief (UK). She also served as a resource person to UN agencies such as UNIFEM, UNDP, UN/ECA (Addis Ababa) and several other regional and international bodies. She served as an Adviser to Global Fund for Women (USA), an Editorial Board Member of Alliance Magazine (UK), a board member of Resource Alliance (UK), an Advisory Board member of Realising Rights – The Ethical Globalisation Initiative, a member of the African Feminist Forum Working Group, a board member of the Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf Market Women’s Fund, a board member of the Women’s Funding Network (USA), and Co-Chair of the newly established African Grantmakers Network. She Chaired the Advisory Board of the Nigerian Women’s Trust fund, which was set up by the Federal Ministry of Women Affairs.

    She has come a long way and still has a long way to go. 

    Happy 60th birthday, Erelu!

  • A thorn in people’s eyes

    A thorn in people’s eyes

    From the shadows of the legendary Jim Ovia, he was plucked and catapulted to the apex. The beginning was good, really good and beautiful too. The end is hazy. The near end is bad, really bad. This is the story of Godwin Emefiele. 

    Since cows no longer moo in Emefiele’s household, and cats have stopped meowing, I have been seeing images of the one friends and allies call Mefi, the same one folks at World Bank Group in Washington DC also call Mefi because Emefiele is a mouthful for them. Images of his defiant news conferences, especially the one he expressed his readiness for a fight, images of his attempts to remain as CBN governor while seeking the presidential ticket of the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC), images of him justifying the cash seizure policy nicknamed naira redesign, images of Nigerians his decision pauperised, the businesses it killed and images of his many Aso Rock shuttles and pilgrimages. 

    I have also been bombarded with images of his front page adverts, supposedly by friends who thought he was the best to lead Nigeria after Muhammadu Buhari, and images of the time I met him, alongside other editors, at the CBN’s former headquarters in Lagos, and images of traders who rechristened him during the naira crisis when sheep found it hard to bleat, bulls saw bellowing as herculean, ducks quacked no more, donkeys abandoned braying, and horses no longer neighed.

    Signs that he would not end well, that his geese would forget how to cackle and peacocks would no longer fancy screaming, began when  kites were flown about the possibility of Emefiele running for the office of the President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, a position he is eminently qualified for. He denied it. Not long after this denial, the front pages of some newspapers were bought by a faceless group drumming support for him. They listed the miracles he has performed as CBN governor and justified why he should lead us in 2023. They were clever with the disguise of the source of the message and who funded its dissemination. But we could all see the voice of Esau and the hands of Jacob in the whole charade.

    Read Also: Emefiele’s arrest and the face of Buhari’s government

    Emefiele again told us he was busy panel-beating our badly-accidented economy. Few believed him. It was wrong for him to sit tight on the CBN chair and be partisan. It was also wrong that immediate past President Muhammadu Buhari didn’t fire him the moment all doubts about his intention were erased, when the Rice Farmers Association of Nigeria and two other organisations were reported to have purchased for Emefiele forms to run for the presidency on the ticket of the APC. The following day, Emefiele chose to insult us by claiming that he was awaiting “God’s Divine intervention” which he hoped to receive “in the next few days”. He insulted us with his tweets on the “growing interest of those asking that I run for the Office of President in the 2023 general elections”.

    He sought a court order to say that he was not in breach of the Electoral Act. He approached the Federal High Court in Abuja, which declined his request to restrain the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) and Attorney-General of the Federation from preventing him from pursuing his presidential ambition. Through his lawyer, Mike Ozekhome (SAN), he told the court in Abuja that he could run for the post of the President without vacating his position as the CBN governor. He added that Section 84 (12) of the Electoral Act, 2022, as amended, did not affect Emefiele because he was a public servant and not a political appointee. 

    Emefiele was brazen in actualising his ambition. The naira crisis worsened his case. 

    Now, he is in the gulag of Department of State Services (DSS) for alleged terror financing and others. The DSS tried to nab him under Buhari. This certainly is not a good way to end nine years of service, some say disservice. I plead for fairness in dealing with him. If nothing is proven, he should be off the hook. Irrespective of how the case goes, he is guilty of offences related to the naira crisis. 

    My final take: The best time to quit is when the ovation is loudest. Tarrying till you become a thorn in the eyes of the people is the worst disservice you can do to yourself. 

  • Alex Olu Ajayi

    Alex Olu Ajayi

    Two years ago,  I read and reviewed an autobiography. The author, Baba Alex Olu Ajayi, who died recently, saw the review, sought out my phone number and called me. He was full of praises for my writing style and prayed and prayed and prayed for me.

    Ajayi was friend to Prof Wole Soyinka, Chinua Achebe and Chris Okigbo, the great poet who died during the civil war. 

    Alex Ajayi’s memoirs, ‘A Legacy on the Move’, details their relationship. It also refreshes Nigeria’s glorious past. He was the first Ekiti son to earn a university degree. In his nine decades and two years on earth, Baba Ajayi recorded many firsts. His life was filled with lessons for the young and the old and, also, in parts, a clarion call on governments at all levels to make life better for the people.

    The book, unlike many autobiographies which are ready tools for the writers to paint themselves in borrowed garbs, tried to stick with facts.

    The book tells the story of a legend, a teacher, a father, a grandfather, a great-grandfather and the son of a true preacher who was more interested in the gospel of Jesus Christ than in the things of the flesh.

    Within the pages of this book, you will encounter tales of self-denial, you will find stories of resilience, accounts of adversities defeated and memories of a close shave with death.

    Life began for Baba Ajayi on Saturday, June 28, 1930, in Owo, the hometown of his mother, Marian Ademubiola. His father, Joseph Adesuyi Ajayi, who later became a reverend, was working in Ikere-Ekiti at the time, and his mother had to come and stay with her mother so that she would be guided through the motherhood process.

    The instructors for the first two years of his education taught in the Yoruba language, a development the author lamented its demise because of his belief that it helped in child development.

    Being the first child of his missionary parents, his early life saw him moving from different stations such as Ikere-Ekiti, Owode, Ode-Ekiti and others. His father, in 1934, was headmaster and catechist of the Church Missionary Society Anglican School, St Mary’s School and St. Mary’s Church, Ode-Ekiti.

    One of the remarkable things the elder Ajayi did while working with the mission was to get as many children as possible into school. His tactic was to get idling children to start school. One of those he got to school through this style was Sam Aluko, who would years later become a revered economist and professor. Aluko was then fond of spending quality time going around with masquerades.

    The intrigue in the Anglican Church at the time got generous treatment in the book. His father’s quest to become a full-time church minister suffered a setback in 1937, all thanks to the then head of the Anglican Mission in Ekiti, Venerable Henry Dallimore. He was made to withdraw from the training that would have seen him become a priest. After a three-year hiatus, he returned to complete his training, but Dallimore almost struck again. The author’s father was to become the third Anglican pastor in the town, but after his father’s training in Oyo, Dallimore’s hidden agenda nearly scuttled his ordination. He was recorded to have sent some information advising against the ordination of the author’s father to the Bishop of Lagos, Right Rev. Leslie Vining. When the information for the ordination eventually came, Rev. Dallimore was believed to have deliberately ensured it did not get to the author’s father on time so that it would be difficult for him to get to Lagos for the exercise. When he found a way around that by wading through the untarred road from Ado to Lagos, another spanner was almost thrown in the works.

    His first visit to Lagos was in March 1943 and he would not have returned to Ekiti alive. The visit was for his father’s second ordination to become a full priest. One day during the visit, the author and his younger brother, Silas, had gone to the lagoon and the author attempted to walk on water. He almost drowned and shouted at Silas to pull him out. That was how he was saved.

    Read Also: Soyinka and Peter Obi’s visit

    That narrow escape notwithstanding, the two of them still went to the Atlantic Ocean on the quest to discover the ocean proper. It was a secret they kept for many decades.

    After the provincial standard six examinations at the Christ’s School, he was looking forward to automatic admission to Form III in the Ado-Ekiti-based school, but his father surprised him with the news of his admission to Form I at the Igbobi College, Yaba. His father preferred Igbobi College because it offered pure sciences and Latin, which were not available at the Christ’s School at the time. His admission was, however, at a time the school had been relocated to Ibadan because of World War II, so to Ibadan he headed in early January 1944. He had to stay at the Kudeti-Ibadan temporary home of the school for three years because Germany, Italy and Japan were battling the rest of the world. The Royal Air Force occupied the school’s 32-acre compound in Yaba during the war.

    Life at Igbobi College was a far cry from what he was used to: there were laundrymen to wash the students’ clothes, pillowcases and bedspread, there were cooks to take care of their feeding and there were stewards to see to some of their needs. However, every Christmas, the school organised a staff dinner, where the students were made to serve the laundrymen and other junior staff in a sobering moment obviously aimed at teaching them to honour those who made life easy for them in the school.

    He was nicknamed “Orinrin” at Igbobi because of an experience on his fourth day in school. He was sleeping and felt something was pinning him to the bed and started screaming in Ado dialect “orin rin nrin mi o”. The housemaster came into the dormitory, got him to have fresh air and took him to his room, where they both slept on the same bed.

    World War II did not just make Igbobi College stay in Ibadan for three years; it also had other effects. The book, for instance, recalled how Baba had to queue from 4am to 5pm for essential commodities and was only able to get a cigarette tin of salt. As a way of raising Nigeria’s 20,000 Pounds contribution to the fund to win the war, schoolboys were made to go to the farm to collect palm kernels and extract the seed nuts for transmission to Britain.

    His years at Igbobi ended with his passing of the London Matriculation examinations, a feat which got him an automatic teaching job at the Christ School, Ado-Ekiti.

    The book gives interesting accounts of his times in Freetown, London, Ibadan Grammar School, the West African Examination Council (WAEC), where, as Registrar, he took over the conduct of examinations hitherto conducted by Cambridge University and the University of Ife (now Obafemi Awolowo University).

    My final take: No matter how long we live, we will not leave this life alive. So, we should care about the legacy we will leave behind.

    Baba left a good legacy. Sleep well, Sir.