The Nation Newspaper

Category: Korede Yishau

  • Like COVID-19, like Grey

    Like COVID-19, like Grey

    Umar Turaki’s novel, ‘Such A Beautiful Thing To Behold’, reminds me so much of those early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, those days when farmers couldn’t farm, those days drivers couldn’t drive, those days friends couldn’t hug, those days Mecca was closed to pilgrimage, those days the world went on holiday. The novel will amaze and excite you in equal measures.

    Unlike the COVID-19, what afflicted the people Turaki wrote about is called Grey, and it is an epidemic because it affects a town. Grey holds it by the jugular and is draining the blood of its inhabitants.

    Nothing warned the people of Pilam that a strange sickness was about to unfurl across their lives with impunity. They were a happy people until Grey put things asunder, fell things apart and compelled the centre not to hold.

    The sickness has no seeming cause, or remedy. It makes it difficult seeing colour again. It makes everything drab and leaden, like black-and-white films. It makes people kill themselves with knives, ropes, just anything capable of taking life. Wrists are slashed, rat poison is consumed and so on.

    Corpses litter forests and birds and the weather makes faces indistinguishable.

    Men are forced to form groups to sneak across the barricade in search of food for their families.

    Some go looking for missing loved ones only to get missing too. Fathers and mothers go in search of each other and fail to return. Only children are immune from the disease.

    Neighboring communities are scared and frown against people from Pilam escaping.

    When the residents realise that their village is the sole site of the epidemic, many try to leave but they meet a wall of soldiers sent by the government. Those who dare to ignore the commanding officer’s instructions to turn back are massacred.

    Borders are fortified to keep them enclosed. But since water always finds its level, three siblings, Dunka, Panmun and Panshak find their way out of death’s enclave. Their youngest sister, Rit, however, refuses to flee. The plague has killed their parents and their fates hang in the balance. Running, they believe, will save them. 

    When Panshak flees, he finds himself in an orphanage run by a woman with so many myths woven around her life. One day she is killed by a boy she took like her own. The boy assumes leadership of the home, allows the children to eat whatever they want and roam. While out one day, they attack a vehicle conveying a man and a lady. The lady is Panmun, the man is Zumji, her lover whose child she is carrying. They escape the bows, arrows, rocks and other weapons aimed at them. Panshak, though a part of the mob, is only its leader’s reluctant photographer.

    Dunka’s first move on escaping is to try a woman he is told could have a cure for Grey, but he meets a brick wall.

    Away from home, the siblings face challenges. Their sister who remains home is seized by the fear that she will die of hunger since the food reserves are getting depleted. Dunka is turned into a prisoner in the home of the family he thought a cure lies. Panshak incurs the wrath of the new boss of the orphanage who never tires of threatening to kill him among many other challenges. Panmun, though in the company of the love of her life, is not having things easy. For all of them, leaving home seems not to have brought the succour they expect and they long for one another. But turning back is a decision beyond them. So, they soldier on for as long as possible.

    The tale assumes a jungle mien in many respects with outright murder becoming survival tactics.

    The story is rendered in third person narration but from multiple points of view. There are instances where the narration is presented from the perspectives of more than one character. This gives the sides to unfolding events without being unnecessarily repetitive.

    Turaki has a way with words, as though they are jets he is using to fly his audience to a new world. See this superb descriptive writing: “Dunka retrieved an old, faded wrapper from Nana Ritdirnen’s room and covered her with it. He laid her in the hole and filled it with the hard, caked earth. Then he sat in their living room, tired all the way through, and waited for Panmun to come in. If there was going to be any righting of things, if they were all going to learn to live together as a household, then he needed her.”

    And here is another juicy description that sings harmonious tones: “After the massacre, the people had become even more determined. They tried back roads and mountain passes; they tried the expanse of wilderness that stretched on and on to the setting sun. At every turn, they found a well-guarded military installation. They sneaked and fought and snarled and raged, until at last, it dawned on them that there was no escape from the quarantine. Defeated and exhausted, their spirits broken, the people of Pilam resigned themselves to apathy. Eventually, the major roads that led into Pilam were permanently blocked. Leadership groups of neighboring settlements took over from the military and erected obscene boundary fences, further hemming in Pilam and its inexplicable pestilence.”

    The landscape is rhythmically presented such that we are dazzled in scene after scene.

    With a prose style that hums repeatedly, Turaki has given us an important book, one which makes us reconsider our humanity, one which makes us wonder why governments sometimes turn against the people, one which shows us unbreakable siblings’ bond and offers us deep insights into human nature. It also offers lessons in survival and resilience.

    The characters’ courage, tenderness and vulnerability allow the author to succeed in making a tale so grim both beautiful and stunning.

    My final take: In any situation, unity and love have a way of bringing out the best in humanity. Hatred and disunity, on the other hand, bring out the worst in humanity. The choice is ours. 

  • Technology and the future of agriculture

    Technology and the future of agriculture

    By Abachi Ungbo

    Agriculture is the basis of human existence. So, meeting basic food needs assume an utmost priority primarily as population burgeons. Over time, we have seen how human ingenuity through the agency of science and technology has come to the rescue in enhancing agricultural productivity. As man continues to expand the frontiers in the field of science, it inexorably becomes a boon to agriculture in a bid to solve the manifold food challenges.

    Agriculture has undergone interesting metamorphosis which is at best a revolution in improving its productivity. From the Neolithic era dubbed the first agricultural revolution, man basically transitioned from being a gatherer and hunter to a farmer. The second revolution marked the introduction of farm machineries, new farming and animal selection systems/techniques and the third was the green revolution which was an interesting epoch. It changed the complexion of agriculture.

    It was a period of high yielding varieties of cereal grains accompanied by synthetic fertilizers, herbicides and pesticides usage and extensive irrigation activities. The intensification of agriculture saw to the generous application of a lot of the inputs in order to reap the benefits of the new varieties.

    However, there has been a lot of finger-pointing to the direction of green revolution as a contributory factor for changes in the seasonal characteristics of the global carbon cycle. It became demonstrable that as the use of fertilizers proliferated, they became pollutants of the soil and sources of water as they are washed off from farms; resistant strains of pests also grew further engendering the use of more pesticides which apparently contributed to more chemical being deposited to the environment. The use of groundwater for irrigation reduced the water table further below and soil was also salinized.

    Apparently, the legacy is the severe compromise of the soil health, water holding capacity and the environment in general. Though, pundits believed that the period was a springboard for the economic miracle, significant poverty reduction and lower food prices that was recorded in Asia and Latin America.

    There’s growing sensitivity to the environment and the need to shield it from the impact of the tyranny of human action. Essentially, the world is going through torrid times actuated by the climate change and other environmental issues. The green revolution cannot survive under the prevailing environmental challenges of extreme temperatures and irregular rainfall pattern. And, of course, it is a race against time. Agriculture remains a convenient culprit to the issue. It said that it generates 19-29% of the total greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions.

    By 2050, it is projected that by 2050 global population will hit 9.6 billion. As a result, food production will have to grow almost concurrently to satisfy the demand of the mass of people. Already, it is estimated it will have to ramp up by about 70% to keep pace with the speed of demand.  Also, global water demands will be short by 40% by 2030. It means the traditional system of practicing agriculture will have to give way to a more productive and sustainable pattern.

    Intriguingly, agriculture is undergoing a fourth revolution brought about by a panoply of disruptive digital technologies that have far reaching impact. It’s effectively the dawn of digital agriculture! It’s somewhat a ‘countermeasure’ against the outcome of the green revolution that was a product of efficient machineries, synthetic fertilizers and pesticides and high yielding seeds.

    The Internet of Things (IoT), alongside host of other powerful technologies, are behind the transition of agriculture to a digital plane. The IoT powered sensors, Unmanned Aerial Vehicles (UAVs) are already providing the force behind precision or smart farming, a new green approach in farm management that ensures the utilization of inputs in exact quantity to get increase yield and productivity. It’s simply the collection of data from sensors and other devices in enhancing decision making.

    The approach helps to practically chop off the unconscionable use of fertilizer, pesticides and water thus reducing the environmental impact of farming. Also, it facilitates the close monitoring of crop yield, soil moisture and general wellbeing of the soil, identifying insect pests; in addition to monitoring of humidity, temperature and ideal harvest time.

    The revolutionary technology is applied to greenhouses which powers it  to smartly adjust to climatic conditions which completely obviates human intervention and livestock GPS tools for gathering data on the wellbeing and whereabouts of animals (Livestock tracking and Geo-fencing). Basically, the entire value chain in agriculture is not untouched by technology.

    Technology is providing answers to the many questions on the future of agriculture in relation to the shrinking farming population, impact of climate change and feeding the exponentially growing population and the means to meeting the UN Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) of a ‘world with zero hunger’ by 2030.

    Nigeria needs to lock steps with the rest of world. The country is expected to add about 263 humans in 2030 to the global population making it imperative for the country to be in the forefront of leveraging digital agriculture for food security. Though, it takes humongous investment on requisite infrastructure, education and skills. The next generation of farmers will have to be armed with sufficient skills in dealing with the new reality.

    So far, a glimmer of hope exists in digitizing agriculture in Nigeria through the Nigeria Digital Agriculture Strategy (NDAS) which is armed with the vision of making Nigeria one of the top three most food secure country in Africa and top 20 largest exporter of standard agricultural produce by 2030 through the use and application of digital technologies and innovations. The multiplier effect is in the massive jobs that will be created and huge available farmlands that will be brought under cultivation.

    • Ungbo writes via <abachi007@yahoo.com>

  • This is not a Romeo and Juliet tale

    This is not a Romeo and Juliet tale

    The author’s first name is Romeo. But, there is no Juliet in the tales he has to tell. Instead, ‘Nomad’, the Nigeria Prize for Literature-winning collection of over sixty poems by Romeo Oriogun, focuses on his travel experiences, colonialism, exile, and man’s inhumanity to man. These themes dance from one poem to another. 

    A number of the poems are also historical, excavating stories from our past, from our ruins, from our regrets, from our excuses and from our lamentations. 

    The poet drags us along his journeys through Cotonou, Abidjan, Togo, Quidah, Bamako, Isla, Dakar, Verde, and around Nigeria. He also takes us with him to the United States. We see Harvard, we see Iowa, Boston, New York, with its imposing buildings and subways and we see much more. 

    Oriogun tells his stories sometimes in the form of confessions, and other times in the form of testimonies. We see guilt, we see a troubled conscience and we see agony. We see the stress associated with irregular migration. His voice radiates some sort of burden to offload his experiences in the journey of life. With the poems, he drags us along to heaven and hell and because of his skills we seem to thrive in both worlds. 

    His disturbing encounters are rendered with such artistic grace. Take for instance the poem titled ‘Mist’. In it, the poet laments that “the doors to my country have been closed to me, the canvas of my mind torn into shreds”. The poem suggests a traumatic parting of ways between the poet and Edo, the state where he lived before becoming a stranger to it.

    This artistic grace also shines through ‘Everyone I Love is Alive Tonight’, which laments among other things the passing of Ofure, his first friend, “who died crossing the Mediterranean”. 

    In Late December in Abidjan, we see a city both awake and brooding. The poet uses imageries that portray him as an outcast. In one line, he croons: “We who the world has ushered into the wilderness”. He also writes about “the shadow of life” and “leaves brittle and dry”.  

    In Cotonou, Oriogun writes about buses spilling out humans tired of journeys, about a human trafficker called Trolley, about this man’s escapades in Bamako, Tripoli and Mauritania, and about his ruthlessness in accomplishing his task. He also writes about girls who are victims of life, who have to dance even when sad, who have to give their bodies and souls to get a place in the world. He hints at his addiction to nicotine, which he seems helpless from. 

    In Advertisement, the poet describes exile as “the dying voice of a wounded angel”. In another poem, he says “there is no peace for those thrown out of a country”. This line brings to mind the words of Poet Maik Nwosu about exile. Nwosu said: “At a certain point, you will realise that no matter how long you live in America, you will always be a Nigerian. And when you come back to Nigeria, people will say that you have been away for too long. So you are no longer fully Nigerian. Before you know it, you will begin to have an in-between existence that is neither entirely Nigerian nor entirely American.”

    “The classical trajectory of migration is departure, passage, settlement and return. But the return almost never happens.”

    Oriogun also writes about the evil of wars, one of which is the possibility of a war veteran going crazy from hearing a thousand women wailing in his head. 

    The poet, through ‘Voices’, returns to the motiff of exile, and describes it as “a murmur crossing rivers and seas”. He also tells of drivers and their relationship with roads, wondering what language they will speak if they can communicate. 

    ‘Hotel Du Chirugie’ is a heartrending piece, which recalls slavery and how Africans sold Africans for bottles of gin. Brothers helped to chain one another and herded one another into pens, and later into ships for transfer to slave fields in Europe and America. The poet addresses the “commodification of flesh”. This theme continues in ‘Saudade’, in which the poet talks about ancestral guilt associated with “bodies thrown overboard slave ships” and “people lost to a ship’s belly”.

    In ‘Ouidah’, Oriogun returns to what he aptly tags “the violence of history” when he writes about a man who came to Africa from Michigan in search of his roots. This, in a way, is a return to the slavery as well as the exile themes. People who find themselves overseas as a result of slavery are in permanent exile which, at times, they strive to escape one way or the other. Ouidah, from which the poem derives its title, is also known as Door of No Return. No wonder imageries of whips, clangs and chains and blood find expression in this poem. Slavery also dominates ‘An Old Song of Despair’ in which the poet hums about the ruins of history. It tells of how slavery brought us poverty and the other changes it forced on us, such as the neglect of our culture, our architecture, our languages, our songs, and how we now speak the “language of defeat”. The poem also recalls the sad role of mirror in slavery and colonialism. 

    In ‘Waiting for Rain’, the poet returns to the evil of colonialism. He takes us on an historical voyage, reminding us of the evil the British wrought when they invaded Benin and killed men and women and stole statues upon statues, which adorn their museums and private homes till this day. Some have been returned and many are on their way back. He pays tributes to the men and women who faced the intruders and paid with their lives. The theme of colonialism also drenches ‘At Lagos Polo Club’ where colonial officers “rode the flesh of both man and beast” and “declared through constitutions that we were half-humans”. This theme also finds ample space in ‘Postcard From Abandoned Places’, in which the poet sings about the “yoke of Germany declared by streets named after the Kaiser, heavy with ghost voices of White men who had travelled there to search for diamonds”. 

    As if intent on dealing colonialism as much blows as possible, we are also treated to its evil in ‘For Lewala, The Discoverer of Light’, a poem about the person believed to have discovered diamond before handing it over to the European credited with this precious find. This poem brings to mind historical fallacies such as Mungo Park being credited with discovering River Niger, where people along its banks had fished long before he decided on his voyage. The poem also recalls how colonial masters destroyed “cities that raised their heads”. 

    ‘Killing the Condemned’, a poem about men the White men hanged in Oron and Eket, also treats the evil of colonial rule.

    In the poem from which the collection derives its title, the poet sings about asylum, about journeys through water, about losses, about roads and crossroads, and about creating new worlds in a strange land. 

    In the last poem in the collection, ‘It Begins With Love’, we are told of the connections between love and a labourer kissing his pregnant wife’s belly, a child struggling with his clarinet, a newborn seeing colour and the beginning of the day. 

    Romeo Oriogun’s poetry is a study in displacement, race, strange and known terrains, home and exile.

    My final take: Romeo Oriogun is a discerning poet who, through lyrical lines, dish out wisdom about a world that we will continue to try to grasp but will continue to stun us at a speed too fast for us to meet.

  • Lessons in grief (2)

    Lessons in grief (2)

    In Onyi Nwabineli’s ‘Someday, Maybe’, we are treated to a heartbreaking rendering of a mind shattered by grief and which spins efforts to make it whole again.

    The novel comes at a time when more and more people are choosing to leave instead of living, once overwhelmed by life. It portrays a closely-knit Nigerian-Igbo family in London and their rooted-ness in their culture despite being far away from home.

    The sights, sound and smells of the United Kingdom dance from one page to the next.

    The first person you’ll be introduced to in this novel is Eve, a British-Nigerian whose parents are experts in different areas of medicine. When we meet Eve, her life seems built on these words of Washington Irving: “There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.”

    Eve, who is also the narrator, will introduce you to the love of her life. her introduction goes thus: “Around the time my husband was dying, I was chipping ice from the freezer in search of the ice cube tray wedged in the back. But only because I was taking a break from filling his voice mail with recriminations about his failure to communicate his whereabouts. The memory of this, along with countless other things, would weave together the tapestry of blame I laid upon myself in the days and weeks after his death.”

    In the spirit of continued honesty, she also says of him: “He was the great love of her life despite his penchant for going incommunicado, he was, as far as she and everyone else could tell, perfectly happy; yet, on New Year’s Eve, does something unimaginable. From then on, the pages are enveloped by grief.

    When the duo first met, Eve was unprepared for Quentin. She was nineteen. She had taken a place at King’s College to study English and Digital Media. Until Quentin came into her life, university was more about evenings spent reading Dostoyevsky by lamplight because she thought it romantic. She was shy, self-conscious of what she looked like from behind, and had an expansive vocabulary and access to cheap shots at the student union. Quentin made a new person out of her. So, she just couldn’t understand it when he did what he did without even leaving a note to say why he did it. Efforts to make her grieve less is met with reactions seemingly screaming: All losses are not equal.

    Her search for the reason for his action is a major driving force of this novel. Her unending duel with Quentin’s Caucasian mother (Aspen) also pushes the narrative and her discovery of a pregnancy he wasn’t aware of provides another tool to deliver a rousing tale.

    The author also puts to good use Eve’s family members and small circle of friends. Her siblings are understanding, at first, but it gets to a stage they feel she is taking it too far and wondering whether Quentin deserved what became of him.

    Aside its main theme, which is grief, this novel explores interracial marriage and its many complications. She also examines familial love and how a man handles his love for his wife and his mother, who hates his wife. It also explores the role of therapy in grief management.

    Nwabineli’s book, as a meditation on grief, cuts like a well-sharpened knife and raises posers: Are we to cheer on Eve as she refuses to be consoled? Are we to agree with her quest for an answer to a clearly rhetorical question? Or are we to just leave her to grieve it all out on her own? And what are we supposed to make of Aspen’s approach to Quentin’s absence? There are so many posers each reader will resolve according to personal experience.

    This is one of those books that ring so true and make you wonder if there is a true story beneath this story. One more thing you will probably love about this book is its descriptive power. Descriptions scream out loud in this novel. Sampler: “I had clumsy sex for the first time with a boy named Dane, who had large hands and pawed at my chest.” And another one: “I give Quentin to the wind, then I take our daughter home.”

    Though the tale is not a palatable one, Nwabineli renders it with so much candor and leaves you with no choice but to relish page after page.

    The instructive end of the novel is a lesson on how individual differences play significant role in how we look for closure. It is never the same. Some do so by doing away with things related to what they are running from and others by keeping those things close.

    Nwabineli has offered us a delicacy worth relishing like a well-cooked egusi soup garnished with ponmo, fish and prawns.

    My final take: Grief is a poison, a slow poison. But, despite its potency, time, most times, sets its victims free from captivity. It has, however, consumed many, leaving them only when they are six feet below.

  • Lessons in grief (1)

    Lessons in grief (1)

    I have seen people grieve and I have read about grieving and I have had reasons to grieve too. I wish no one has to grieve. But it seems we are alive to grief, ultimately. Late last year, I read two novels about grief, one about a mother grieving a daughter who committed suicide, and the other about a husband who committed suicide. Both of them left no note to explain their fatal decision. 

    My take away from both books and real-life experiences is that grief is not beautiful. It is a monster, hydra-headed and scary. It creates holes in its victims and direct their actions in ways they have absolutely no control of. It makes its preys feel like they are alone. It destroys them bit by bit and it is non-linear, highly unpredictable. 

    The first novel is Yewande Omotoso’s third work of fiction titled ‘An Unusual Grief’, and the second is Onyi Nwabineli’s ‘Someday, Maybe’. 

    Omotoso’s book begins when Mojisola arrives Johannesburg from Cape Town. By then, Yinka—her daughter who left home after catching her professor father pants down with his young assistant—is dead and buried. 

    Yinka was an unhappy child. Right from her teens she had shown signs of depression. Mojisola’s Johannesburg trip is to get to know a daughter long gone. She feels she can find answers in her daughter’s space in the crowded block of flats with a crazy landlady called Zelda. 

    Mojisola sure finds answers -some shocking, some otherworldly and others surreal. One of the shocking answers she gets is the identity of the person Yinka argued with on the phone before she ends it all. 

    The day she gets to the building, she meets a landlady eager to rent out the flat and start earning revenue. She pays for it to have the chance to get the answers she is looking for. Soon she finds out her daughter was into weed, and Zelda is not just a dealer, but also getting high on her own supply. They start an unexpected dalliance. 

    She does crazy things in search of answers. In some instances, Mojisola disguises as her daughter to meet people she interacted with before breathing her last, one of them turns out to be a lover of BDSM ready to try his skills out on the older woman who is desperate to retrieve her daughter’s drawings in his possession. The drawings give insight into Yinka’s perceptions of her parents. It reveals much more.

    Following a revelation from Zelda, Mojisola organises a memorial for her daughter, drawing the guests list from the last set of people she called. Her intention is to see if any of them plays any role in her death so she treats all the attendees as suspects by asking questions capable of exposing them. She ends up in most cases making them wonder if she knew her daughter at all, an awkward situation which leaves her explaining her knowledge gap. Emotions run high at the event, which ultimately turns out not a waste. It provides some missing details and yields a notebook Yinka kept. The notebook is emotional. It seems to be the best bit of this amazing novel. 

    On the surface, ‘An Unusual Grief’ is about a mother and her dead daughter, but it is much more; it is also about a wife and a husband with a marriage on the brink. The book traces their early days in Ife, the arrival of their child, when things begin to go south and other minute details that flesh up this bittersweet rendition. 

    While the big picture is grief, this book explores modern dating and its risks, a parent’s unfaithfulness and a child’s disappointment, depression and its side effects, feline companionship, unusual friendships and breaking free from labels.

    Secrets is a ‘hidden’ theme in this book. Omotoso, without being judgmental, explores the things people do out of public glare, especially in their sex lives. In the end, she shows that life is in cycles and what you see is not always what you get. There is more to people than even people close to them will ever find out. 

    Also, people have the capacity to surprise themselves, as is clear in the things Mojisola does after moving into Yinka’s apartment. It is initially about finding answers but she later realises it is also about her cravings, about letting loose after decades of suppressing herself. 

    Set in Johannesburg, Cape Town and Ife, the book brings alive these environs in such a way that they do not distract the storyline. The flora of the University of Ife, now Obafemi Awolowo University, find breathing space on many pages of this novel. 

    Aside from Mojisola, her daughter, and Zelda, the novel has other memorable characters such as Jide and Titus, Mojisola’s husband. Jide is one hell of a character, his choices are the kinds that will engender debates—debates that in the long run will be unending. And Titus comes across as the typical chauvinistic man who finds it difficult to say sorry when he has committed a grave act. Innana, Yinka’s cat, also is a character worth recalling and P Machaivelli, also known as PM, may strike a chord in some readers. Then there is Wicus, aka the Woodsman. His connection to Yinka is one reason he sure will linger in minds. 

    The characters are well-chosen and developed, a development which gives this meditation on loss its identity, colour and panache. 

    The last bit of the book, Titus’ journal, is gritty. It unveils loopholes in the unfolding drama, it fills empty spaces and brings clarity to a number of things. It also raises posers, among which is whether depression is hereditary or not. The journal is like light at the end of the tunnel that painfully delights. 

    Omotoso’s prose is simple but certainly not simplistic. She appears to deploy words with empathy, perhaps because of the subject matter of grief. 

    Rendered in the third person, except the notebook segment and Titus’ journal, ‘An Unusual Grief’ excites, shocks and illuminates. It puts light on the contradiction that love of any kind, be it between parents and children or husbands and wives, can sometimes be. 

    With this remarkable and intimate novel, Yewande Omotoso evokes a rich mosaic of broken peoples’ experiences. And through her characters’ interconnecting fates, she recreates the extraordinary routes grief can force us to take. 

    This novel shows Omotoso as an author who can think and write! 

  • One day, this country will be great again

    One day, this country will be great again

    The last stretch is here

    Closer than we think

    Deals are being sealed

    Deals that will affect your life and mine

    Deals that will make or mar us

    In striking the deals

    The ultimate is getting the keys to the Villa

    Values, principles and whatnot take backseat

    Your interest

    My interest

    Are on the back row

    So, I plead with you, my compatriots

    Do not lose your friends for politicians

    You are not that important to them

    You are not.

    Till this day, ex-President Olusegun Obasanjo denies working for a third term in office. His denial is taken with a pinch of salt by many who witnessed the events of the era.

    A memoir by Femi Oluwole, former Editor of New Treasure, offers insights into the saga. Oluwole’s book disputes Obasanjo’s denial and he gives details of the roles his ex-boss, Senator Tokunbo Afikuyomi, and many others played to return Obasanjo to Ota after his second term as president.

    On chapter 10, he writes: “On the day the idea of tenure elongation for Obasanjo was thrown into the dustbin, I saw some statistical figures that gave me hope that one day, this country will be great again, because even in the face of the massive underhand dealings and allegations of bribery that went on, some senators still looked at the president straight in the face, eyeball to eyeball, and said NO to his demand.”

    Afikuyomi, who Oluwole worked with, was very popular in the Lagos politics of 1999-2007 era. In those eight years, he represented two different senatorial districts of the state at the National Assembly and was one of the right hand men of Asiwaju Bola Tinubu, who was Lagos governor in those eight years.

    His popularity then didn’t prepare many for the fact that he would, a decade and some years later, become a footnote in the politics of Nigeria’s most cosmopolitan state. His star began to dim when his quest to become Tinubu’s successor didn’t materialise and he settled for the role of a Returning Officer, and later Commissionership, in the first term of Babatunde Fashola.

    Oluwole’s years of service to the son-in-law of Prince Bola Ajibola gave him front row access to the seat of legislative power. The book also provides a window into how Lagos was able to survive Obasanjo’s onslaught over the creation of new local governments. Obasanjo seized the entire allocation for the state and the Tinubu administration had to improvise for the local governments not to go under.

    Oluwole also details how Tinubu was able to survive the move by Obasanjo to take over the Southwest for the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP).

    In telling this tale, Oluwole shows bravery by naming names.

    He also recalls his encounters with human rights activists, Chief Gani Fawehinmi and Dr Beko Ransome-Kuti, MKO Abiola’s physician, Dr Ore Falomo; and the controversial National Union of Road Transport Workers (NURTW) boss, Saka Saula, among others. The book also contains interesting details of the exploits of Femi Akintunde Johnson’s Treasure magazine, including editions that shook the Pentecostal churches in Nigeria.

    It also refreshes the memories of those days when seers were popular for publishing books of prophecies. Oluwole was involved in editing some of these publications. The book also contains Oluwole’s personal stories, including his years at the Nigerian Institute of Journalism (NIJ), his years growing up in Iyana-Ipaja, his father’s long battle with diabetes and how the old man has lived four more decades after doctors predicted his last days were nigh.

    This book equally deals with a problem Nigeria has been unable to resolve: indigeneship. He uses his personal experience to hammer on why this problem must be resolved once and for all. He recalls a bill, which could have solved the problem but which unfortunately was stillborn.

    In Nigeria, the severity of the ‘where-are-you-from’ challenge has seen politicians returning to their states of origin to seek elective offices only to be reminded by home-based politicians that they are ‘imported’. They are not accepted where they reside and pay taxes and seen as lepers by people in their hometowns.

    Except for states such as Lagos, Kaduna and a few others, indigenes of other states have no place in their civil service. Whether you were born and bred in those states means nothing. You are from where your father comes from. Your mother’s state is irrelevant. Some people will not even agree to sell landed property to non-indigenes. The most ridiculous thing is when love affairs are put asunder because parents will not allow their son or daughter marry from outside their state or ethnicity.

    Another variant of this problem is the one that involves even people within the same ethnic group, say the Yoruba, for instance. Among the Yoruba are the Ijebu, Egba, Ekiti, Ondo, Oyo and so on. Some people, though Yoruba, will not allow their children to marry from the Ijebu stock. The myth is that the Ijebu are “fetish” and can do anything for money. So for this ridiculous reason, love is sacrificed.

    There is also the myth that Egba women are quick to abandon their husbands when things are tough. As a result of this, an Egba woman is no go area for some Yoruba. In the Southeast, some parts believe that they are the ‘superior’ Igbo.

    From Oluwole’s experience, he obviously looks forward to an era when, like in the United States, two brothers can be governors in two different states because their country’s constitution allows them to be indigenes of a place once they have stayed there for an acceptable number of years.

    Written in simple and free-flowing prose, Oluwole has written an important book that will deepen debates about politics, health issues, citizenship and whether or not some happenings in life are The Acts of Men or of God.

    My final take: As Oluwole said, one day, this country will be great again. The task of ensuring that is in the hands of Nigerians. They can start doing that by voting the right president in next month.

  • And Saint Obasanjo speaks

    And Saint Obasanjo speaks

    The timing is perfect. New Year’s day, new year’s message. The messanger: Aremu Olusegun Obasanjo, ex-soldier, ex-military Head of State, ex-President, letterman and public speaker.

    His message as I see it: I believe Mr Peter Obi has the capacity to make Nigeria great like I did.

    I have absolutely no problem with his choice of Mr Peter Obi. It is within his right to make a choice.

    What I have problem with is the second leg of his message, the self-praise and the vanity of it all.

    Mr Obasanjo is one of the lucckiest human beings on earth. Born of a very humbling background, his decision to join the Army changed his story.

    Opportunities just usually find a way to perch at his doors.

    If in doubt of my assertion, consider his role in the civil war, his ascension to the seat of Head of State, and his return to power after years in prison where the late General Sani Abacha dumped him.

    Even when it is not his will, he has gotten power without breaking much sweat.
    Each time I listen to this erudite former President talk about leadership, I am always marveled.

    He comes across as an activist, a fire-spitting one for that matter. Femi Falana and others seem like his colleagues.

    But, I have repeatedly told myself: Wait a minute, this man is no activist. He is part of what he is complaining about.

    From Nigeria to Europe to America and Asia, anytime he is given the opportunity to talk, he talks as though he is not an African leader who has contributed immensely to the challenges of the continent; he talks like a Messiah who is waiting for the opportunity to change the world; and he talks like an analyst with the best of intentions.

    But he is not. We all know he is not. Except we want to deceive ourselves.

    Last year, I saw a video of his in a church and he was complaining about the leadership the country has had.

    He spoke about security challenges and his fears that churches might soon become dangerous to attend because kidnappers could just walk in and abduct congregants. He sounded convincing like an average activist.

    The truth is: He is not far from the truth but my problem is that he talks as though he is not part of the problem.

    And in his new year message, he kept hammering on his era as though we didn’t witness it.

    He ruled us for some years as military Head of State after General Murtala Mohammed was killed, and he came back as civilian president in 1999.

    After his first term in 2003, he secured a second term and led us till 2007 before foisting ailing Umaru Musa Yar’Adua on us.

    As President, Obasanjo carried out a privatisation programme.

    The idea was for government-owned businesses to be sold to the private sector so that they would be well-run. We are all witnesses to how bad that turned out.

    He also invested chunk of money on the power sector and, till today, we are in need of light to determine where the funds went.

    Under his watch, the education sector didn’t witness any major turnaround. Under his watch, the health sector didn’t get the lift it deserved.

    Under his watch, housing was not improved significantly. Under his watch, respect for the rule of law was near zero.

    Ask All Progressives Congress (APC) Presidential Candidate Bola Tinubu about how he seized the funds meant for local governments in Lagos and ignored the law.

    Under his watch, the National Assembly was unstable because he kept getting the leaders impeached because of his disagreement with them.

    Under his watch, fewer roads got the attention they deserved. Under his watch, we crawled when we were supposed to be running a marathon.

    This same activist, in the twilight of his administration, tried to elongate his tenure. He can deny it from now till tomorrow but we are no fools. Those who played one role or the other in it have spoken.

    This great activist also harassed rich individuals and state governors into donating billions for the construction of the Olusegun Obasanjo Presidential Library.

    The library is complete with a standard hotel and other money-spinning facilities, including a cinema. As I write, it is also his home haven left the sprawling mansion he retired to after his tenure.

    At the height of their quarrel, former Ekiti State Governor Ayodele Fayose asked him to return Ekiti’s donation to the library.

    For me, there is no justification for him as a sitting president to raise money the way he did for a private project. For want of a better word, it is gross abuse of office.

    Yet, he speaks against this when others do it. He is unable to remove the speck in his eyes but he is seeing the one in others. What a wonderful man!

    The race to pick a successor for outgoing President Muhammadu Buhari has reawakened the activist in Obasanjo and he has been pontificating.

    The other day he said one of the mistakes he made was choosing Atiku Abubakar as his deputy.

    He said this not long after Atiku became the presidential candidate of the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP), the party that made Obasanjo president, but whose membership card he obscenely displayed its public destruction.

    Obasanjo cannot divorce himself from the leadership problem Nigeria has. As a matter of fact, he is an integral part of it.

    So, he should spare us the pontificating about our leadership deficiency.

    He is part and parcel of why we don’t have electricity, good roads, good schools, standard hospitals and many other good things of life.

    I must add that this intervention does not imply that Obasanjo is a failure or has nothing to show for his years in office.

    It is just to say he is not a saint and he should stop dressing as one.

  • How to help Nigeria in 2023

    How to help Nigeria in 2023

    In two days, the curtain will fall on 2022 and we will welcome 2023 with all our hearts. For some, dreams have been realised. For others, dreams have been dashed and all hope is on the New Year. 

    For Nigeria, the fast-approaching year is not ordinary. It is the year we choose a new president to take over from President Muhammadu Buhari. We have been presented with multitude of choices, many of them jokers who know they can’t win even their polling units. The frontrunners are no secret to the discerning. 

    As we approach the election year and month, we are all clear on one thing: Our country really needs a leader who will both inspire hope and deliver results. I doubt if there is anyone who honestly can say he or she is not troubled by the state of our nation. To the best of my knowledge, there is discontentment in the land. Some have even predicted a bleaker future if something drastic is not done. The economy is struggling, and security challenges are refusing to give way.

    No time but now that we are preparing for another presidential election is appropriate for us to search our souls. I have searched mine and I believe, instead of lamentation and whining about our circumstances, we should let those seeking to lead our nation know the kind of nation we want.

    I worry for our nation when ethnicity rears its head; I cry inward when the issue of who is an indigene insists on taking the front row; and I wonder why I cannot be an indigene of anywhere I choose to live in Nigeria. I also believe I should be able to change my indigene status when I move elsewhere in the country.

    The dreaded Boko Haram sect is still on the rampage. Many out there are looking for jobs that are not available. Not a few have died this week all because what we call medical centres are consulting rooms that they have been since the military era. Even the private clinics where we pay through our noses cannot compete outside of our shores.

    Our leaders have been callous in the management of our resources. Past error is no excuse for the current government not to change our fortunes like it promised.

    Another development that scares me is the migration of Nigerians through the Sahara desert, a development which is akin to walking with eyes open into enslavement. The exodus is to escape the ‘Animal Farm’ we currently inhabit. Most of the men and women who take this root are educated but hopeless.

    The way to help Nigeria this year is to work towards getting a President who can right the wrongs of the past, a President who will make nepotism a thing of the past, a President who will ensure no Nigerian feels left out because of which part of the country he or she comes from, and a President who will end this era of epileptic supply of electricity. I will be glad that day when our electricity generating sets will only be useful for picnics at beaches and such places where temporary source of power is required.

    We should work for a President who will provide enough direction for members of the National Assembly to truly legislate in the interest of the people and not out of any pecuniary interest. I am sick and tired of the current situation where everything but national interest seems to take the first position.

    We should work for a President who will give us a Nigeria where our schools can compete with others in the advanced world. We should elect a President who will take Nigeria out of the Third World. What is wrong with being a First World?

    We should elect a President who will deliver a Nigeria where we can reap from medical tourism instead of the current situation where we are the major loser to this trend.

    We should elect a President who will make our economy so robust that we can hold our head high anywhere in the world and our green passport will command respect and not scorn.

    We deserve a President who will give us a Nigeria where oil takes the back seat and agriculture and tourism take the front seat and contribute more to our foreign exchange earnings and Gross Domestic Product (GDP).

    We are overripe for a president who will develop our tourism sector, permanently solve the power challenge, defeat the terrorists and make the country a no-go-area for bandits.

    My final take: As we vote in February, it should be for a President who will give us new songs, not songs of sorrow, not songs of despair, but songs of joy, songs of a country which experiences orgasm at old age and hold on to it forever! That is the way to love Nigeria. 

    Happy New Year 

    To you for following me all through 2022, thank you. Let’s do it again in 2023. May God bless you and cause His favours to rain on you. Have fun this season! 

  • Niger Delta, NSA, Ndiomu and the search for truth

    Niger Delta, NSA, Ndiomu and the search for truth

    Shortly after President Muhammadu Buhari appointed Milland Dixon Dikio, a regular course 21 officer of the Nigerian Army who retired voluntarily as a Colonel, as the Presidential Amnesty Programme (PAP) administrator, the National Security Adviser (NSA), retired Maj.-Gen. Babagana Monguno, said former officials of the interventionist agency didn’t account for N712 billion. A lot of things, he added, happened to catapult the whole programme into other issues that originally were not intended.

    He also said the programme was a victim of the predatory instincts of certain individuals who turned it upside down and made corruption, waste, and mismanagement the order of day.

    Monguno explained that the Presidency settled for Dikio because it needed someone with strength of character, sense of purpose, someone who would not be pushed around and someone who would not succumb to socio-cultural political issues.

    Some months after he mounted the saddle, Donu Kogbara, who runs the media for Dikio’s successor, Barry Ndiomu (a regular course 29 officer of the Nigerian Army), echoed Monguno when she wrote: “Dikio pays contractors chronologically, not randomly. There is no blatant favouritism or traumatic injustice or disgraceful mago-mago. Those who have been owed money for the longest time are getting paid before those who completed their jobs more recently. And, according to a contractor who wishes to remain nameless: ‘You don’t have to know Dikio or his cronies to get paid for work done. I am amazed by the man’s integrity. None of the other government officials I have dealt with behaves like him.’”

    This prompt payment Kogbara alluded to perhaps was responsible for the fact that for a long time, there were no protests from beneficiaries of the programme studying in universities home and abroad. Sadly, some days back, the hands of time were turned back. The Abuja-based Baze University stopped 185 beneficiaries of the programme from sitting for their ongoing examinations over outstanding fees. The beneficiaries were angered and expectedly protested. Before this development, Ndiomu was said to have written to the school authorities about the delay in the payment of the 2022/2023 fees. He blamed it on financial commitments and budgetary constraints. I certainly cannot agree with this excuse because the programme receives a monthly allocation of N5.3 billion. Ndiomu needs to tell us if this allocation has stopped coming. We should not be witnessing this ugly situation again. Stipends, school fees and all operating expenses were paid promptly in the past and there was peace. This is a standard he should maintain. He said he inherited a scholarship debt of about N7 billion for the 2022/2023 academic session. The sum is certainly not unconnected with the fact that the programme under the previous administration placed emphasis on good schools so that the beneficiaries can have the best of education in Nigeria, a development which led to the delisting of schools deemed not delivering qualitative education.

    I have also come across other information that queries Ndiomu’s details. For instance, one indicates that 1662 beneficiaries, of the about 31,000 who applied, were awarded scholarships onshore during the 2021/2022 academic session. Fifty-two beneficiaries were selected for offshore. In all, they are 1,714. This number was in addition to the existing over 3,000 students who were still in-training as at September 15, 2022.

    Contrarians also said the debt his predecessor inherited from outstanding contractual obligations was about N72.4 billion, which rose to N90.5 billion after reconciliation. Of this debt, the previous administration was reported to have paid about N56.1 billion after certification, which brings the balance on debts, as of September 15, 2022 when Ndiomu took over, to N34.4 billion, and the Federal Ministry of Finance was requested to assume them because it was weighing down on the ability of the PAP to train beneficiaries.

    So, what is the information out there that PAP has a debt of N90 billion instead of N34.4 billion which had been scheduled for payment? The ex-agitators Ndiomu claims to have weeded out, contrarians said, were not ghosts like he suggested, and that he has since realised this and has resumed payment to many of them. If they are lying, Ndiomu needs to do Nigeria and Niger Delta the honour of putting the evidence out.

    There is also another very important matter that should not be glossed over. Monguno, whose office supervises the programme, needs to get Ndiomu to show proof of his allegation that non-Niger Deltans were being sponsored in schools.

    The need to go beyond just mere allegation is in the interest of the Niger Delta and the country. If truly this can be proven, those responsible should be dealt with. But it doesn’t look like there is any proof because weeks after some stakeholders in the region challenged Ndiomu, the interim administrator to expose the non-Niger Deltans benefiting from scholarships, nothing has been heard. If he is sure of his facts, he should please speak or own up to his error.

    Ndiomu also announced the immediate suspension of the proposed Empowerment Grant Scheme. In that statement, he said delegates of the various ongoing vocational training would be notified of the next steps. He added that he inherited N4.5 billion debt for vocational training, which he claimed to have renegotiated down by N1.3 billion. This renegotiation, in his view, proves that these training costs were grossly inflated. I understand that the Train, Employ and Mentor (TEM) project was initiated because the subsisting model of training and issuance of starter packs did not effectively transfer skills because it was handled by contractors. The renegotiation Ndiomu said he did is said to have involved the removal of the employment component of the project. Can he publish the details if he is sure of any shady dealing, can he publish the details?

    There was also a video where he spoke about the winding down of the programme, which is just one of the pillars of the Niger Delta Recovery Plan. Its other components include the development of six new cities in the region, environmental remediation of the region, the security of oil assets, and petroleum assets distribution. The programme cannot be stopped abruptly in the interest of peace. I know this because as the editor of a pullout on the Niger Delta for years, I had cause to relate to this oil-rich region. This column was then entirely dedicated to Niger Delta issues and its people. I traversed the length and breadth of the region and I saw poverty in all its ramifications. For the region to catch up with the rest of the country, its people must either get qualitative tertiary education or solid vocational training and job opportunities.

    I was always baffled by the fact that billions were allocated to the region and leaders of the region somehow managed to enrich themselves to the detriment of the people. The leaders seem to love the people so much that keeping them down was a task that must be done. So, abruptly stopping a programme that has bought the nation peace will not augur well. If there are issues, they should be addressed. You don’t throw a baby out with the bath water.

    I will be glad if Ndiomu goes beyond just alleging, but shows proof and also get the law to put a stamp on the matters at hand.

    My final take: There is absolutely nothing wrong in pointing out bad deeds when you are sure of your facts, but if you have any iota of doubt about the information you are pushing out, then you need to pause, ponder and then stop. A broken egg cannot be coupled back.

  • Dear Alagba Sola Fosudo

    Dear Alagba Sola Fosudo

    Prof,

    Long time no see, Sir. Trust you are holding on perfectly well.

    I remember you today not because I saw one of your early Nollywood productions, or came across someone who spoke about you. I remember you today not because I met one of your Theatre Arts students at the Lagos State University (LASU), Ojo. I do not remember you for death or sickness. I remember you because some weeks back, I saw a movie on Netflix, the global streaming platform. The movie is titled: ‘The Griot’. It debuted on November 18, 2022. The movie is about betrayal, the power of love, the power and importance of storytelling, disloyalty, greed and how, with the right support, what appears insurmountable becomes a piece of cake.

    This movie directed by Adeoluwa Owu has a literary fiction feel. Its tragic, unexpected end is a twist difficult to foretell, and I have seen a few viewers who are not happy about this. But, I am yet to see anyone who feels it is a bad movie.

    Sir, the movie starts with a storyteller captivating an audience with a gripping tale about a man tempted by a water demon. The storyteller says: “The long wait had begun to douse his enthusiasm and the dark and scary night clawed viciously at what was left of his patience. ‘Was it all a myth,’ he asked himself. Perhaps it was a drunkard’s imagination which had become a legend, but he would tarry a moment longer for his journey was long and arduous…”

    With his soothing voice and descriptive gesticulations, Sanmi, the narrator, continues the story and exhibits his prowess as a griot worth his salt. The audience will kill to have him tell another story after concluding this one, but his attention is soon taken by the sonorous voice of  the lead female character, Tiwa, humming a lively tune.

    Prof, after the opening scene, we meet Lakunle and a secret is let loose: He is the shy friend of Sanmi, who supplies him with the stories that make many see him as the greatest storyteller in the environment and bring along wealth and other goodies of life.

    We also properly meet Tiwa and we realise she is in love with Lakunle, who, however, is too timid to ask her out. Sanmi is soon deployed by Lakunle to help woo Tiwa since he is gifted with oratory. But what we discover instead is Sanmi trying to get Tiwa for himself. Since every lie has an expiration date, it is not different for Sanmi.  Lakunle discovers his act of betrayal and stops feeding him stories. This comes at a time the king of Wakajaye has made him the Gbobaniyi because of his perceived storytelling prowess.

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    Prof, the heavens come crashing down  when a major celebration is around the corner and Sanmi tries unsuccessfully to convince his now estranged friend to supply him another tale to renew his fame. As expected, he turns him down and instead confesses to Tiwa that he is the source of the great stories that brought Sanmi glory and wealth. With Tiwa’s help, he overcomes his timidity and performs at the ceremony for the king and other guests. The fleeing, arrogant, greedy, and morally deficient Sanmi is caught and banished by the king who feels deceived and cheated. Lakunle gets his due but before his joy is full, Sanmi throws a spanner in the work, and it goes south from there.

    Sir, ‘The Griot’ is a beautiful village-setting story told in a mixture of Yoruba and English. The picture quality is superb, and the acting is believable. Funso Adeolu is impressive as the king. Kunle Afod delivers as the babalawo. Lateef Adedimeji is otherworldly as the shy griot. Toyin Oshinaike performs well as Lakunle’s father and Yetunde Adekoya is above board as Tiwa’s mother. And Goodness Emmanuel shows her goodness as Tiwa. She also doubles as the producer.

    This movie reminds me so much of you because of the guy who plays Sanmi, a talent I will look out for in more of his work. While watching the movie, I saw that he shares so much in common with you, including your surname. He is Temiloluwa Fosudo. His voice, his face, his mannerisms, and his theatrics are similar to yours. It is not surprising to find out he is your son. Seeing that he is not just the lead actor but also the writer of the thrilling script from which the movie is made gladdens my heart.

    I am sure he is a son in whom you are well-pleased. He is indeed a positive reflection of your greatness and I pray he trumps your records in every ramification.

    My final take, sir: When kids do well, parents are happy. When they turn bad, parents are sad. Getting ones that turn out right is the dream of every parent and may the good ones always come our way and the bad ones turn new leaves.

    Prof, continue to stay strong and impart knowledge on future thespians. Maybe one of these days we will see you in a production done by Temiloluwa. It certainly will be good to see you on the big screen once again. It has been a long time we had the honour of seeing your talent on display, but we are consoled by the fact that you are helping LASU churn out thespians that will play a major role in the future of the Nigerian-cum-African theatre and even play on the global stage.