Category: Korede Yishau

By Olukorede Yishau

Salman Rushdie was keeping me company with his ‘Satanic Verses’. But his hold on me last Saturday was not enough to ‘overthrow’ the bad feeling that comes with the uncertainties associated with a time like this.

My condition became worse when I watched the video of a Coronavirus-inspired single by Sulaimon Adio Adekunle aka Malaika. Tears welled up in my eyes and a question agitated my mind: When will we get back our lives? I also wished I could turn back the hands of time regarding my initial lackadaisical attitude to social distancing. My emotion peaked when I realised that I could have been positive like Kaduna State Governor Nasir El-Rufai, or Prince Charles, or any of the other over 600,000 people affected by the unusual virus globally.

Reading Professor Biodun Jeyifo’s offering last Sunday also drove home the message to me, largely because until March 8, I was outside Nigeria. Between February 14 and March 8, I passed through the valley of the shadow of death: I was in Paris; I was in Manchester; I was in Liverpool; I was in Houston; I was in Amsterdam. And if you are conversant with the Coronavirus tale, you will know that Europe was already crying under the weight of the crazy virus at this time I passed through Charles De Gaulle Airport, Schiphol Airport and the Manchester International Airport. And this fact that it could have been me remains overwhelming.

If you see me joke about the situation, it is just a defence mechanism! There have been nights I woke up and found it difficult to go back to bed, and the thought of what could have been played on my mind. At a time like this, when the world seems on vacation to enable repair works to be done, we are bound to feel abnormal. Watch movies, read books, and do all other stuff around the house but, in the end, you will still feel like someone under house arrest. Though you are not in a correctional centre, the absence of a free will is a pain to the heart and it makes one sick.

Just looking at the almost empty roads, the streets literally bereft of human movement, the cinemas under lock and key, and the day and night clubs firmly shut their doors is enough to make emotion run riot. It is worse when you were a socialite pre-Coronavirus. In times of crisis, churches and mosques serve as places where many seek answers, but Coronavirus has shut the worship centres and it is now to your tent o Israel!

At a time like this, you are bound to wonder if the world has ever witnessed any health crisis of this magnitude. Historical records show that the world is no stranger to plagues. In 430 B.C., Athens, Greece, was hit by a smallpox epidemic, which killed more than 30,000 people. It reduced the city’s population by at least 20 per cent. There were other ones along the line, but there was a scary one between 1331 and 1353, known as Black Death. An estimated 75 million people were said to have been lost worldwide.

There was the Great Plague of London, which took root in China, in 1334. It was helped by trade routes. Towns became history and Florence, Italy, is said to have lost a third of its 90,000 residents in the first six months. Europe, according to records, lost 25 million people.

I found some of the historical records scary and unbelievable. For instance, in 1519, a smallpox epidemic known as Hernando Cortes was said to have hit Mexico, killing some 25 million people. Two years later, it wiped out another between five and eight million of the native population. Too scary for me to believe!

Wait for more: In 1633, French, English and Dutch settlers were said to have been the source of a smallpox epidemic in Massachusetts in the United States. Historians estimate that about 20 million people died in this epidemic. Another United States’ city, Philadelphia, was said to have lost some 45,000 people to a Yellow Fever epidemic.

What was known as the Modern Plague in the 1860s killed an estimated 12 million people in China, India and Hong Kong. It took the development of a vaccine in the 1890s to stop the spread. Another scary one was in 1984 when scientists discovered the Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV) as the cause of the Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome (AIDS). Over 5,500 people in the United States died that year. Records show that over 25 million people have died of AIDS so far.

More recent health scares include the 2003 Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome (SARS), which killed 774 people globally. And in 2009, the H1N1 flu pandemic broke out and it is believed to have killed 18,500 people. Africa battled the Ebola virus in 2014 and, by the time it was overpowered in 2016, more than 11,300 people were dead. This was largely an African epidemic, with limited cases in Europe and the United States.

Coronavirus is global. It has affected hundreds of countries. The global figures have exceeded 600,000 and no less than 30,000 are dead with Italy, China and the United States leading the toll. The victims cut across classes and the world remains dazed about how to get out of this quagmire. While we are all confused about the best formula to quickly defeat this common enemy, which has crippled the global economy, we are almost agreed that if this does not change our world nothing else will. The world actually has no choice. When this is over, things will never remain the same again.

Nigeria, for instance, should not remain the same, especially our healthcare. The United States, Italy and China have some of the best medical facilities in the world, but COVID-19 has humbled them. If not that the Ebola outbreak helped Lagos to have standard isolation centres, things would have been worse.

My final take: With COVID-19 we are all stuck: the rich and the poor. Before now, the rich would have run to London, New York, Dubai or India. We all now have to face the result of years of poor leadership. Our annual budget for health has never met the global standard, all because our leaders know they could always jump on the next available flight to seek succour. Now, there is nowhere for the wicked to escape. If Nigeria remains the same after this pandemic is brought to its knees, I will give up on this giant with clay feet. It will mean that nothing shocks our leaders and they are nothing but sadists.

Things just must change.

Olukorede Yishau

Forget Washington, New York is the heart of America. Overlook Abuja, Lagos is the soul of Nigeria. These cities, despite not being the official capitals of their countries, bear the brunt of the good and the bad times. They are currently bearing the brunt of the Coronavirus.

Viral diseases, such as COVID-19, have the capacity to travel via aeroplane, train and buses. New York and Lagos have people trooping to them daily from all over the world. They also have internal visitors coming from other parts of the two countries.

Trains and aircraft carry multiple passengers and risk-bearing viruses. Long haul flights see people going in and out of the toilets, a veritable avenue for the transfer of viruses. With New York and Lagos receiving more visitors than their sister cities, the risks are higher.

Of the 81 cases in Nigeria so far, Lagos has 52. There are clear signs things will get worse for this city and state, which Governor Babajide Sanwo-Olu is trying his best for. The state is projecting 39,000 cases, if our people refuse to heed advice.

The Italian index case, now discharged, came in through the Murtala Muhammed International Airport in Lagos. The cases in Ogun, Oyo and Ekiti have links with Lagos.

New York’s death toll has reached no less than 400, accounting for over a third of all U.S. deaths. And the figures are doubling every three days. Lagos cannot afford to find itself in this situation its ‘sibling’ is.

With New York’s effective rail system, which is used by many of the folks there, put fire on the mountain. This good development, which makes it a city of choice for an average United States-bound visitor and even resident, I suspect, has fuelled the spread. This mass transit system has the potential for mass spread of the pandemic.

An overwhelmed New York Governor Andrew M. Cuomo said President Donald Trump should ‘order factories to manufacture’ medical equipment. Cuomo said if he had the power to invoke the Defence Act he would do it in New York.

Cuomo said most of the dead in New York were over 70, a unit believed to be susceptible to the disease. This cluster has also suffered more all over the world.

The severity of the New York situation can be gleaned from the fact that just three weeks after its first Coronavirus infection was discovered, the figures ballooned so much that it became the epicentre by accounting  for approximately five per cent of the world’s confirmed cases. Hospitals in New York now have a surge of patients.

Like New York, the Lagos’s cases are mounting. From one case some three weeks ago, we have over 50 cases. Lagos, like New York, attracts people from all over the world. They come with the good, the bad and the ugly. Coronavirus is the ugliest they have come with. United Kingdom returnees account for the bulk of the cases in Lagos.

It is good that our international airports are now closed. That way we stopped new cases from being imported while we manage the internal ones.

Banks in Lagos have tried. They have ensured fewer than 20 people are in the banking halls at a time. Customers using ATM are made to use hand sanitisers. Most formal establishments have taken necessary precautions and the state government’s holiday to most civil servants is a step in the right direction.

But, the problem is the informal sector. For the bulk of this week, Ojuwoye, Idumota, Osodi, Oyingbo, Iyana-Ipaja and Egbeda, among others, were still packed with people who are ignorant of the gospel of social distancing. Okada, despite the restriction, still operate and riders are carrying two people who are ignorant of each other’s medical history. There is no distancing in danfo and Keke, despite the government’s advice. Passengers are still packed like a sardine for profit.

A novelist and poet, Lola Shoneyin, narrated her experience with an artisan she tried explaining the pandemic and how to avoid it. The artisan, after she has preached the gospel of social distancing, asked her if she was home. He still wanted to visit a woman who just preached distancing to him. From experience, this is still the way many in the city view the situation. Many do not just get it. And I fear this ignorance will put us in trouble if care is not taken.

We are a nation of millions of poor people, who live on what they earn each passing day. If they do not earn money on a particular day, hunger will befriend them. Even professionals live from hand to mouth. Saving is difficult for the bulk of the people and, as such, they will have nothing to fall back on.

In New York, residents stocked their homes with food and other essentials. People in Lagos and, by extension, Nigeria cannot do that. Reason: We do not have a credit system. New Yorkers and other Americans were able to stock their pantries because of the credit card system. Credit cards in Nigeria are ironically held by the rich and middle class. The poor, who actually need them, are not captured by the financial system and have no way of accessing this card, which helps the multitude in the developed world.

New York is dreading what April has in stock and fears May could be worse. Cuomo fears between 40 to 80 per cent of the population risks getting this virus. Scary!

My prayer: May Lagos not go New York’s way. We do not have the capacity to cope.

My final take: From the look of things, our roads will be rough and we have to be prepared. This is a battle we must win. We defeated Ebola and must defeat Coronavirus. In defeating it, we must rein in the folks roaming the streets. They must not continue to roam like lost cows. We are endangering ourselves and others by continuing to crowd parks, playgrounds and public spaces. It is time we stopped.

A word on insensitive ASUU

The Academic Staff Union of Universities (ASUU) is a joke. Whatever sympathy I have for the organisation was withdrawn on Monday when it announced a strike over government’s insistence that it must be part of a federal pay system.

At the time ASUU announced the strike, universities all over the country have been closed, meaning there is not much for members of the union to do on campuses.

My main grouse about the whole strike is the timing. The world, including our dear country, is facing a major pandemic. No one has a formula around the COVID-19 pandemic and the only thing ASUU thought of contributing is to announce a strike. The Federal Government has its hands full and ASUU will be the least of its concern now.

Going on strike at a time like this when our world is changing in such a way that none of us knows the outcome is the height of irresponsibility. ASUU has scientists in its midst, who should be busy in their laboratories helping the world to defeat this virus, but all it thought of doing is to announce a strike at a time when we are not sure that Nigeria will be able to meet its financial obligations if this pandemic continues to rubbish the price of our Almighty black gold.

Shame ASUU. Shame!

Olukorede Yishau

I WRITE you today because of Coronavirus, this dreaded virus that sneaked in on the world through China and found its way into our shores through an Italian. Birds no longer sound as birds. Rats sound like some other rodents.

We first thought it was a joke when China, Italy, Singapore and others started recording fatalities. Even Almighty America did not think much of it.

By the time our eyes became open, the Kabah was empty, the ever-busy Times Square was deserted and the beaches in Miami were roaring with no one to dash in and out of them.

The Pope has had to be avoiding the crowd and the Umrah regularly performed by Muslims has been cancelled, even the Olympics are postponed.

This year’s Hajj is doubtful. The oil price has crashed to an all-time low and it remains to be seen how it will affect our budget this year.

Many countries are now on lockdown. The world is almost at its knees. Airlines have had to cancel thousands of flights. Recovering post-Coronavirus will be Herculean task.

At a time like this, we all need to be careful to escape Coronavirus and to prevent it from further penetrating the world. It has done enough damage already and in our little corner, we should join the race to clip its wings and leave it prostrate.

I saw a video last Sunday of a pastor, who described himself as Pastor TalkNaDo, lying to his congregants that Coronavirus could not survive in Nigeria. He said there was no way Coronavirus could survive in the face of what he described as corrosive anointing.

He added that anytime Coronavirus genuinely entered Nigeria, it would die all over the world. His basis for doubting the presence of Coronavirus in Nigeria was that he was not shown the face of the Italian index case. The women in the church were screaming and concurring with him.

Men like this who have access to the pulpit are killing people unknowingly, and their evil hold on the people will continue well after Coronavirus is gone. Brothers and sisters, we must tell his likes to shut up and shut it permanently.

He was one of those who made people defy the guideline that large gathering should be avoided. He has infected his congregants with ignorance. But, despite the like of Pastor TalkNaDo, many complied with the advice.

Before Coronavirus, the love of Nigerians for parties was legendary. We also loved to club and merry generally. Wedding parties were opportunities to run into debts.

Months after weddings, debts were still being paid. Some Nigerians live the dead in the mortuary for months raising money for elaborate ceremonies.

Some have even had to build a house in the compound a dead is to be buried. The dead has to wait for the house to be ready, when it is to be buried outside.

In this time of Coronavirus, we have seen that nothing cannot be postponed or done low key. Last Friday and Sunday, Mosques and Churches were closed, services were held online and Jumat prayers said at home. A few worship centres are still disobeying the regulations.

I would have supported that we turn to churches and mosques, but we all know that this is a medical emergency. Prayer can help the scientists get the solution.

Prayers, on its own, cannot do it. How I wish it can! We must take the precautions serious so that when this is all over the after-effect will not compound our gargantuan problems.

Before Coronavirus, extreme poverty has been with us. Low literacy level has been with us. Child mortality is our reality.

Nigeria is 43rd on the sustainable development goal index, poverty is concentrating in fast-growing countries like Nigeria and, by 2050, more than 40 per cent of Nigeria will still be under poverty’s jackboot, and our country records the second-highest number of deaths of children under the age of five.

According to the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF), 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.

My brothers and sisters, a child born in Nigeria today is likely to live to the year 2074 while a child born in Denmark is likely to live until the 22nd Century! Regrettably, our infants die from preventable causes such as premature births, complications during delivery, infections like sepsis, malaria and pneumonia.

Post-Coronavirus, we will need all the help we can get to attract more investment to grow our economy at a higher rate to be able to lift 100 million people out of poverty.

Nigeria is only growing at about two per cent and if our country continues this way, there will be more people in poverty.

These are realities we will have to return to post-Coronavirus, which all of us have to ensure is very soon by adhering to all the precautions.

I have no idea when we will defeat Coronavirus, but I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that we will need investments badly.

The investments we will need, my brothers and sisters, is almost double what we have now. We must connect with people who want to invest in us. Agriculture, manufacturing and infrastructure are areas where we need investment.

While we battle Coronavirus just like the rest of the world, we must not lose sight of the fact that the global market for foreign direct investment is highly competitive and, to tap into it, we must position ourselves strategically. Post-Coronavirus, most of the nations in a position to help us will be cushioning the disaster caused by the virus.

My brothers and sisters, we have seen that oil cannot help us. The price has dropped ridiculously low and now is the time to let the world begin to see us as capable of thriving in tech, agriculture, services and manufacturing.

We must take advantage of the fact that we are critically important as Africa’s largest economy. We must use our longstanding relationships with countries, such as the UK, the U.S. and others, to pull in the needed help. We must correct the notion that our economy is difficult to operate in.

To make investors have confidence in us, we must respect agreements. Contracts must be sacrosanct, a situation where change of governments lead to policy somersault must be ended.

The PI & D controversy, which is yet to die down, is a good example of how one government’s mistake can affect the other. We must also improve on our ease of doing business credentials.

My final take: For now, we must realise that the most important thing is to stay alive. Missing church service or Jumat service or any other religious function will not kill us.

Staying away from that Owambe will not limit the number of years we will spend on earth, and cleaning our hands properly will keep infections away.

This is the time to be responsible. Thereafter, we have to face our extreme poverty and other challenges.

By Olukorede Yishau

Toyin Abraham is the reigning Best Actress in Drama. She was crowned at the Africa Magic Viewers’ Choice Awards (AMVCA) which held at the Eko Hotel and Suites last weekend.

Her win is coming some weeks before her latest movie, ’The Fate of Alakada’, will hit the cinemas April 3.

Some years back, Toyin was some sort of bad news. Her marriage to Niyi Johnson crashed. She had an affair with Seun Egbegbe, who was later involved in a phone theft scandal.

Fame became too much for her to handle and she became irresponsible. She thought codeine would make her high and took a lot of it.

She smoked a lot and looked so skinny. She had a group she smoked and gossiped with. She was the butt of some people’s joke. She was down and some people must have written her off like they wrote off Tiger Woods.

Tiger Woods ruled the world of golf. He commanded almost all the sponsorship deals there were in that sector. The world was at his feet.

Then it became public knowledge that he was an unfaithful husband. Bad press followed and he lost focus. His A-game took flight and he became beatable.

Analysts wrote his obituary; he would never bounce back, they said. He should forget everything about golf, they begged him.

Woods got off the scene. He must have cried in his quiet moments. He must have rued the day he allowed his third leg to take him on a journey he was not prepared for.

But, just when we had all confined him to history and were looking forward to historians telling us how he was the biggest disappointment in the world of sports, Woods came back, not anyhow; he came back with a loud bang. Like a Phoenix, he rose.

The ‘crazy’ Edo girl, who was once known as Toyin Aimakhu, must also have shed tears when it appeared everything was upside down. The social media did not help matters. She was disrespected. She was discountenanced. She was written off as a failure.

Even colleagues wondered if she was battling generational curse and some of them also helped to fuel the bad news around her. With time she acknowledged her bad habits and influences. She did away with them and she is better for it.

In 2017, Toyin started coming out in new light. She let Egbegbe, Johnson and drugs stay in her past. This Ibadan-bred babe had stellar theatrical exploits that year.

That was the year ace actor and director Omoni Oboli predicted that the world would celebrate Toyin for her role as Iya Bola in her flick Wives on Strike: The Revolution.

Omoni had said: “I am so proud of you my darling. The world will celebrate you some more after they watch #Wivesonstriketherevolution.

You murdered your role as Iya Bola! I could not have cast a better actor. I’m so glad you took all we talked about into consideration and you ran with it! You just wait for the accolades and the awards! I love you, my baby girl.”

Reading between the lines, I have a feeling Omoni was one of those who sat Toyin down and talked senses into her. I could not agree less with Omoni’s submission after seeing the movie.

Toyin was simply crazy in that movie. Other actors were good, but Toyin was the life of that film, which showed that comedy could be full of messages for us all to learn from.

Every scene with this outstanding talent was of standard. After seeing that movie, my mind was simply made up about who should earn my trophy for Actor of the Year 2017.

Other movies she was part of in 2017 include ’Pathetic’, ‘Tatu’, ‘Alakada Reloaded’, ‘Okafor’s Law’, ‘The In-laws’ and ‘Celebrity Marriage’. Toyin gave her all.

She was like the most-sought-after actor that year. Almost all the major productions at the cinema that year had Toyin playing one major role or the other and she delivered extremely well.

In Tatu, she interpreted the role so well that one could not but feel the character’s pain. The scene where she was put in a hole was well delivered.

In ’Hakkunde’, she was simply crazy. The role needed a mad actor to play Aunty Yetunde and Toyin fitted the bill. Perfectly.

In ’Alakada Reloaded’, which she produced, there was almost no dull scene. Not a few even clapped when the credits were rolled at the end of the film when I saw it at the cinema.

It was one film in which Yoruba was the main language yet made a significant impact at the cinemas home and in the United Kingdom.

That year, Toyin proved her cross-over acting prowess. She delivered Yoruba roles well. Give her a role in an English production, she will kill it.

She can play a pauper, a clown, a rich brat, an old woman, a madwoman and all. I have seen her play three persons in a film, Eta, and she delivered in a way I have seen only Tyler Perry do.

In 2018, she dazzled in ’The Ghost and The Tout’. You need to see ’London Fever’, ‘Mentally’, ‘Dance to my Beat’, ‘Love is in the Hair’, ‘Esohe’, ‘Alani Baba Labake’, ‘Ebi mi ni’, ‘Alakada’ and ‘Sola Fe Pami’ to appreciate the good in this talented Edo lady.

At 36 and now a mother, Toyin has not slowed down. She shot ’Elevator Baby’, the movie that gave her the Actress of the Year when she was seven months’ pregnant.

From 2017 to date, I doubt if there is any actor that is as busy as Toyin. Take a trip to the cinema now and check the movies on display and chances are that Toyin is in three or more of them.

‘Dear Affy’, in which she played a blogger, has been on the number one spot for about one month. It was produced and directed by her manager Samuel Olatunji.

Next month, this actor, who has become a brand to reckon with, will release the latest in her Alakada chronicles, ‘The Fate of Alakada’, featuring the sensational comedian Broda Shaggy. I believe it will be an instant success.

My final take: Being down is not the same as being out. It is an offence to be down and not make an effort to get up. Tiger Woods and Toyin Abraham have shown that bouncing back can be sweeter. So, get up and stand up to be counted.

Olukorede Yishau

Leona’s name could have been Beauty but her confessional is bound to make one wonder how such a beautiful person can be capable of so much evil. One can, however, hide under possible mental illness to excuse her excesses.

Leona and I met last week but it was not until Saturday that I heard the last of her story. Her story’s root is in Sudan. James, her father, left Nigeria to work for a British-owned firm based in Sudan. There he met her mother, Mary, a Sudanese from the Dinka tribe. Not long after they had Leona, war broke out in Sudan, but with the strong link of her grandfather to the rebel forces, they were protected. The protection did not last. The same rebel group to which her grandfather belonged was his undoing. He was killed and Mary was also slated for a meeting with death, but she narrowly escaped and they all moved to Nigeria.

With the money Leona’s father got from her grandfather before he was killed, he invested and soon came into wealth. In no time, he became close to the military administrations in Nigeria. He played a pivotal role in the palace coup that sent out Chief Ernest Shonekan from office and brought in General Sani Abacha.

Abacha was soon to bare his fang when he threw James into jail. He was there for three years. By the time he came out, democracy had taken root and he became a minister. For his time in jail and his pontifications, he was considered a hero of democracy.

“You could not live in Nigeria and not love parties, especially if you were a reputed politician and renowned millionaire respected by your country for… working to entrench democracy- that was what Nigerians thought of my dad. Only a few of us knew better,” said Leona.

She had found out her father’s other side when Mary told her “your father was involved in the annulment of the last election” and she asked:  “Oh. How did you know that, Mummy?”

While James was in jail, Mary took charge of the businesses and was able to grow it. She even re-established links with Sudan and even set up a pharmaceutical factory there. Her path crossed with Chief Fegun Wale while taking charge of her husband’s business. Mysteriously, she died after her husband came out of jail.

To her husband, Chief Wale had a hand in her death and Leona must marry Akinola, Chief Wale’s son, to have access to the family for a revenge. This quest for revenge shattered Leona’s world. Agnes, her father’s second wife, encouraged her to marry the handsome Akinola, pretending to be her friend who wanted the best for her.

Leona eventually fell in love with Akinola and killing him was the last thing she thought of, but she also felt the need to avenge her mother’s death. Instead of Akinola, she felt Chief Wale deserved death for the sudden death of her mother. Unknown to her, her stepmother, Agnes, also hatched an evil plot against her to ensure her kids were not cheated out of their inheritance. There are many more intrigues; intrigues that are capable of wrenching hearts. I am incapable of letting them out on this space.

Now a confession: If the names Abacha and Shonekan have given you the impression that I have given you a big scoop, I am sorry because all I have just recalled are from the pages of ‘Colours of Hatred’, a new novel by Obinna Udenwe published by Parresia Publishers Limited. Leona and I met on the pages of this work of art and not on the streets of Lagos. The way Udenwe toyed with history in this book makes me begin to doubt what I know: Brilliant twists on historical facts that make fiction seemingly adorn the garb of reality.

Udenwe tells a gripping tale. The themes Udenwe examines in this amazing work include hatred, deceit, heartbreak, military dictatorship, deaths, failure of leadership, and abuse of power. The book also tackles the power of money, and how its acquisition shapes human beings. The way he handled these diverse themes and the concise use of language are the main strengths of this skilfully-constructed novel about characters who are traumatised by the experiences of their past and seem unable to rise above hatred.

Udenwe deserves kudos for his use of language. There are instances of words that look ordinary but used in such a way that they have meanings far beyond the periphery. He paints imageries with words and uses them as roads to drive his readers from one point to the other; he blends words almost perfectly. He proves that with simple but not simplistic words you can tell a story, and perfectly too. You can read it without recourse to a dictionary to check the meaning of some words. The suspense is good. The language is engaging and the style is one that sucks the reader in by its brilliance and the depth of the issues it takes on. The passages are lucid and the subplots make the reader have affinity with minor characters, such as Agnes aka Auty Agii, and the catholic priest-to-be who was the real love of Leona’s life.

I am thrilled by the fact that Udenwe anchored the characters’ life around major political developments in Sudan and Nigeria. It is a major plus and aids the plot’s plausibility. It takes the novel to a serious realm. I believe it will be nostalgic for an average Sudanese and Nigerian reading about our histories in a fictional setting.

The book demonstrates that despite our differences Sudan and Nigeria have a lot in common. Like Nigeria, Sudan has gone through hell and has been unable to find its way back. Udenwe gives us insights into the fire Sudan passed through that has made it difficult for it to find its feet. It is this aspect of the book that brings to the fore the research that went into writing this novel.

At a point I wondered how Udenwe was going to tie the ends. I never saw the Agnes angle coming; after all, she had been painted as a saint who proved that one person can harbour the devil and the good Samaritan. The last chapters are my best bits and I have a strong feeling they will be for most readers. Reading this important addition to literature will be worth your time.

My final take: The evil men do in their bid for money and women is unquantifiable. They carry on as though gaining the whole world at the expense of the poorest of the world is a qualification for unique spots in the hereafter. The good news is: Rat race is nothing but vanity upon vanity.

By Olukorede Yishau

Dear Ma,

On May 13, 2017, Ocean Vuong, a novelist and poet, wrote a piece in The New Yorker titled “A Letter to My Mother That She Will Never Read”. The piece was drawn from a talk Vuong was billed to deliver at the Smithsonian’s Asian American Literary Festival in July 2017.

Vuong is the author of the novel “On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous” and the poetry collection “Night Sky with Exit Wounds”, which won the 2017 T. S. Eliot Prize.

Unlike Vuong’s letter, I am sure you will read this. Maami, my own Titilayo, the daughter of the late Owolodun Agbomeji of Ogunle Lane, Epe who fondly called me “Baba” because he believed I was his father’s reincarnate.

The first time I met you in 1978 after I had lived inside of you for nine months, I knew not who you were. I knew not you were the descendant of Ogunle. You fed me milk from your breasts, which you once nicknamed “obrokoto”. With time you fed me with Cerelac and later pap and solid food followed later.

We left Apata Street, Somolu, in 1980 for the then ‘bush’ now known as Ayige Street in Orile-Agege. Your husband, the one and only Kayusco, was some sort of distributor of Nigerite roofing sheets at the time, and was not keen about living in a place like Orile-Agege, but his older friend and perhaps Nigerite’s number one dealer, MAT, ‘tricked’ him into buying a land and eventually building a house in the ‘slum’ that was at some point home to ace Fuji musician General Kollington Ayinla.

In Ayige, you continued showing me kindness, even when you were harsh on Sister Funke who had cause to wonder if you were her real mother. There were only five of us at that time: Funke, Sola, Muyiwa, Bukola and me. Seun did not join us until that day in 1984 when I came back from what is now known as Orile-Agege Primary School and, if I remember correctly, you asked me to help you get water into the bathroom. You took your bath and went to Betta Hospital, which was then at the beginning of Coker Street. This was long before it moved to its permanent site on 9/11 Coker Street, Orile-Agege. You returned home with Seun the following day.

It was in Agege that I once stole your money; the clever you got us all to come out of the house, and you subsequently asked us to go in one after the other, with the order that whoever took the money must return it. I returned it, thinking it was a secret between me and God. Years later, I confessed to you and you laughed. I was shocked to find out you knew I was the petty thief. Unknown to me and the rest of us, you were peeping from the window as we went in one by one and you caught me red-handed returning my loot. Thank God there was no camera phone; you could have recorded me live and direct! What would I tell Opemipo and Toluwanimi if the video evidence exists?

You combined motherhood with your career as a businesswoman. At some point, you were going, I think, up North to buy goods but had to stop when you came back one day and met me with a swollen mouth or lip. I had engaged Tunbosun, the elder brother of my childhood friend Deji, in a Kungfu fight in front of Daddy Oduntan’s house. I had assumed from what I saw on television that I was an expert and carried my ‘saara’ beyond the Mosque by engaging an older and stronger person in a Chinese-style bout.

Later, you sold rice at the popular Daleko Market in Mushin Local Government Area of Lagos. At another time, you had a shop in Iyana-Ipaja selling groundnut oil. You had earlier sold Kings brand of groundnut oil in a small shop in our Agege home. Your business also took you to London via Paris, and Paris was so beautiful to you that you wanted to have more than a glimpse of it. After all, they say “See Paris and Die”.

I did not know why you stopped going to London until last year or so when you told me the story, which you never told our father. It was a scary tale and if God had not used a human-being as an angel, you could have ended up in a British jail for drug smuggling. The facilitator of the London trip had sewn cocaine into a pair of slippers you were to deliver to someone on arrival. You were about leaving innocently when someone secretly alerted you. Fear gripped you and you abandoned the trip and stayed away from the facilitator.

Maami, with Daddy, you took me to Ansar-Ud-Deen Grammar School, Isaga-Orile when it was time for secondary school. I was the first in the family to go to a boarding school. You were emotional that day as you and Daddy left me and Olumide Ogunekun, my bunkmate. You were to return later to see me and my elder brother, Muyiwa, who joined me months later in the school. But a time came when we saw less and less of you. I believe this started around 1993. You became ill. It was about this time that Sister Sola also began falling ill and she was to leave this sinful world after years of being up and down!

It was a tough period for Daddy and the rest of the family. It was a period that tested our faith. It was a period Daddy had to take desperate decisions and, in my view, he was duped by many of those he thought could help him heal his wife and daughter.

I remember coming home from Isaga-Orile once and telling you how the principal of my school then, the late S.A. Bodunrin, was always praising me for my brilliance and rubbing it in on my classmates. I told you I was worried there could be witches and wizards among my mates who would ensure I failed as a way of punishing me for enjoying Mr. Bodunrin’s praises. You were concerned and you told our father, who allayed our fears by saying his teachers were always hailing him, too. I eventually passed the Senior School Certificate at one sitting!

Maami, as you turn 70 tomorrow, March 15, I thank God for your life. This is even though for some 27 years of your years on earth, illness has seen you being up and down. It was severe initially, but in the last two decades, the severity has been downgraded.

Doctors say what is keeping you down occasionally now is a peptic or chronic ulcer. When it weighs you down, you squeeze your face, you gnash your teeth but we remain grateful you have seen your grandchildren starting with Mariam and a great-grandchild in Alex.

You are a daughter, a mother, a grandmother and a great grandmother, and excellent at all these roles! Because of the up-and-down nature of your illness, the day your husband died, your younger brother, the one and only Bentilo, was screaming “ki lo se sister mi” when he heard of the death at 26, Ayige. But nothing was wrong with you. Illness is not death. Millions of people who are dead were never critically ill or were never ill at all. Death is in a class of its own. It comes anyhow. My prayer is that it will let you stay with us for more decades. You will not bury any of us again.

I look forward to writing to you again at 80, 90 and 100. After then, I can permit you to go and join Kayusco!

Olukorede Yishau

I had spent two days in Liverpool and was headed to Houston via Manchester and Paris. When the airline started boarding passengers, I was in the restroom. I later joined the queue, but the e-gate refused to read the bar code on my boarding pass.

A woman asked for my passport, scanned through it and obviously saw my China visa. She wanted to know if I had been to China this year and I answered in the negative. “I was last there in April 2019,” I said.

I added that I had been in the U.S. twice after that. She directed me to a man for a routine security check, which I passed in flying colours, and made my way into the Air France flight from Paris to Houston.

The officials’ enquiries about China was an indirect way of being sure I was not about to import Coronavirus into the United States.

A few days into my stay in the United States, my beloved Nigeria recorded its index case of the deadly virus, which started in Wahun, China, and has recorded casualties in almost all the continents of the world.

I looked forward to an interesting return journey to Lagos, where the Italian index patient is receiving world-class attention.

At the Bush Intercontinental Airport in Houston, I saw a number of people wearing a mask or 3D respirator, including a father and his two sons.

There was a visible hand sanitizer on the KLM desk. While I went to use the toilet at IAH, a Caucasian noticed another Caucasian thoroughly washing his hands and said: “You are not leaving anything to chance.”

He replied in the positive, and added: “I am a Microbiologist.” This led to questions about the use of a face mask and the campaign against its use. The Microbiologist explained that the campaign was borne out of the fact that the majority were not using it properly.

He said a user was not supposed to be touching the mask after using it. “After all, we use it in the lab and it works but most people don’t know how to use it,” he said.

We all left the toilet and found our way back to the terminal hall. At the Schipol Airport in Amsterdam, there were some face mask-wearing passengers pushing trolleys or bags.

As we waited by Gate E17 for our seven-hour journey to Lagos, a fellow Nigerian, who was ‘gisting’ with his friend on phone, spoke about having a face mask and hand sanitiser, which reminded me that a sanitiser was also somewhere in my blazer’s pocket.

He also attributed the spread to China’s hold on the global market. The long and short of it, he advised regular hand washing and use of sanitiser.

Some hours into the flight, we were all given a compulsory form to fill. Issued by the Federal Ministry of Health, we provided information about whether or not we had had a fever, cough, difficulty in breathing, flu, or generally feeling unwell in the last two weeks.

We were also made to reveal if we had been in contact with anyone feeling unwell in the last two weeks. The ministry also retrieved information on the use of antibiotics, antiviral drugs, paracetamol and other pain-relieving medications.

As I concluded providing the information, including home address and phone number, a passenger by my side seeped his hand into his pocket and out came a sanitiser, which he religiously applied to his hands.

In between looking out for anti-coronavirus movies, I resumed seeing Zulu Wedding, an amazing South African movie which featured our own Prof. Kole Omotoso. D’Banj, who is one of its executive producers, had a cameo appearance.

It was shot in New York, Botswana and South Africa. One of the last images I picked up as we landed at the Murtala Mohammed International Airport was a white guy clutching a sanitiser.

That the authorities in Nigeria are not joking about the virus was evident as we came to the arrival area: I saw hand sanitisers placed at different points; officials checked the forms to be sure they were properly filled; I also saw glove-wearing officials taking charge.

Automatic and handheld temperature gauges were deployed. Phone numbers and other contact details were obtained through the form. Any form without these details was turned down.

Read Also: Germany confirms over 2,400 coronavirus cases, five deaths

The virus has spoiled so many things. There is no nation it has not affected. Even nations without any case of infection are not insulated. Airlines have had to cancel thousands of flights. I was afraid my flight back home could be cancelled.

Also, many international conferences have been put on hold. One of such is the London Book Fair. The organisers’ statement: “Reed Exhibitions has today announced that the London Book Fair 2020, scheduled to take place at Olympia, London, from 10 to 12 March, will be cancelled following the escalation of COVID-19 Coronavirus in Europe.

“The effects, actual and projected, of Coronavirus are becoming evident across all aspect of our lives here in the UK and across the world, with many of our participants facing travel restrictions.

We have been following UK government guidelines and working with the rolling advice from the public health authorities and other organisations, and so it is with reluctance that we have taken the decision not to go ahead with this year’s event.

“We recognise that the business has to continue. With this in mind, we will of course support and collaborate with exhibitors and visitors to keep our world moving during this difficult period.

We thank all those from the UK and multitude of other countries who have prepared over the last year to deliver what promised to be a wonderful book fair showcasing, as ever, the exciting best of the global book industry. The London Book Fair will return, better than ever, in 2021.”

It has also forced Italy to quarantine almost a whole city; China appears to be on lockdown; Japan and South Korea have had fatalities.

In Iran and the United States, deaths have been recorded. The rich’s cruise ships have been isolated at sea. The Pope has had to be avoiding the crowd and the umrah regularly performed by Muslims has been cancelled, even the Olympics are threatened.

I doubt if the annual Hajj this year will not be affected. The oil price has crashed to an all-time low and it remains to be seen how it will affect our budget this year. No thanks to coronavirus aka COVID-19.

My final take: At a time like this, we all need to be careful to escape coronavirus and to prevent it from further penetrating the world. It has done enough damage already and in our little corner, we should join the race to clip its wings and leave it prostrate.

By Olukorede Yishau

When you pray every morning, ask God for the grace not to die in the company of a big man or a star; this will save you from a situation where only your family will mourn you in silence. There will be so much noise about the big man everywhere and it will be as though you never matter. Also pray not to die when a big man is to blame for an avoidable tragedy. If you do, it will just look like you are without a name. You will be identified as one of the others who were lost to the accident.

Since Kobe Bryant, the ex-American basketball player, died with his daughter in an helicopter crash, I have thought more about the unfair nature of our world. Even in death, there is classicism. Some days back, Mrs. Bryant held a memorial for her late husband and daughter Gigi. The way the event went made me ask: Did the Byrants die alone? The answer is: No!

Basketball Coach Altobelli also died with his wife Keri and daughter. Of course, the pilot, Ara Zobayan, who was on January 26 taking them to the girls’ basketball game in Thousand Oaks, California, is also gone. Three others – Christina Mauser; Sarah Chester and her daughter Payton – perished in the crash.

But, in the sight of the world, it is as though only Bryant matters. His daughter is getting mentioned because of him. Thanks to having a famous father!

A similar situation played out in Nigeria when ex-Chief of Defence Staff Air Chief Marshal Alex Badeh was killed. It was initially thought that his driver was also killed, but it was as though he was not important. He would have died without a name. Death visited in the dying hours of that Tuesday in the form of men without brains but brawn. They pumped hot lead into Air Chief Marshal Badeh. They also shot his driver. Badeh’s death revealed the unfairness of humanity.

When a poor man dies in the company of a big man, he becomes nothing but a footnote. It is like his death means nothing. Almost everybody will talk about the big man while the poor or unpopular man or woman’s family will mourn in silence. It is also not good to die in a tragedy where one of the key culprits is a big man who those in authority cannot move against. When you die in these circumstances, you become mere footnote.

The victims of the Uyo church tragedy, whose deaths seem to have gone in vain, is another example of how and where not to die. It is over three years since the tragedy. It all played out at Reigners Bible Church Int’l Inc. The founder of the church was to be ordained a bishop. He is not a small fry so the church was jam-packed. Akwa Ibom State Governor Udom Emmanuel came with some of his commissioners and aides.

But thirty minutes into the governor’s arrival, hell literally came down. No thanks to human error, the church’s iron pillars gave way and the blue roofs came thumping down. Of course on people! An account even said someone was cut into two by the iron pillars. A policeman who reportedly saved the governor is now six feet below. And some others broke their necks, their limbs and their back. The founder of the church, Pastor Akan Weeks, had his leg broken.

As typical of our nation, no one appears sure of how many people died. The day after the incident, we saw figures as high as 160 in the media. It was attributed to Chief Medical Director of the University of Uyo Teaching Hospital, who later denied it. Police gave the figure as 29. Governor Emmanuel said only 23 died. And no one is willing to give the names of the dead. Not even two years after. And there is no memorial anywhere with their names inscribed.

This tragedy turned the University of Uyo Teaching Hospital (UUTH), Anua General Hospital, Life Care Hospital and the Ibom Specialist Hospital into Mecca of some sort. In these hospitals, those who defeated death received treatment to heal their broken necks, arms, backs and heads. Tears from families of those recuperating rented the air in these hospitals for months. The story at the mortuary sections was grimmer.

For students of the University of Uyo, and the Uyo City Polytechnic, believed to have been worst hit by the disaster, reality looked like a dream. Emmanuel’s men, who crawled out of death’s hole, had interesting testimonies to share. His Chief Press Secretary, Ekerette Udoh, said an iron rod nearly cut his neck, but eventually hit him on the back. The cap of his left knee was broken and pains travelled all over his body.

Charles Udoh, who joined the State Executive Council only some one week before the disaster, thought he was watching a movie when the pillars started coming down. He was on his way out of the church to catch a flight when tragedy struck. He would have been out but protocol demanded that he told the governor before vanishing from the church hall. It was this protocol-induced task he was accomplishing when death almost took him away. He had to run here and there to prevent the iron pillars from turning him to a candidate for the mortuary.

Nollywood actor Ekere Nkanga, who has acted almost all roles imaginable, was humbled when he had to wade through bodies to safety.

“Shortly after the governor and his entourage and the bishops took their seats, the next thing I heard was the bang from the falling iron. By the time the iron came down, I noticed that people from the safe areas were running to the centre, where I was sitting.

“I hid under some people. A few seconds later, as I was trying to get up, the body of a man cut into two and fell on me. There were other corpses on me. I looked out for my brother but I couldn’t find him. Later, I found my phone. I called the Chairman of Uyo Local Government Area to mobilise rescue officials to the venue.” Nkanga managed not to have a direct impact with falling rods, but by that Saturday evening, he discovered his neck was broken.

Of all those who died in the tragedy, we were lucky to identify Josephine Effiom because of her mates at the polytechnic, who described her as ‘one of the first three brilliant chaps in my class’.

The result of the panel set up by Emmanuel has been less than impressing. No one has, in the real sense, been punished for men’s evil on men. The victims seem to have died in a wrong place and at the wrong time. Till this day, I believe the tragedy was avoidable if procedures had not been circumvented. The enquiry shows clearly that corners were cut but there is no consequence and that is why it will happen again.

My final take: We cannot all be popular. We cannot all be rich, and classicism is not going away any time soon, but we can at least ensure justice and fairness. Or is that too much to ask?