Category: Oyinkan Medubi

If the government goes ahead to export electricity when I am in dire need of it at this Christmas time, I tell you, wild horses could not keep me from consulting the Justice Lady and we’ll see which way her sword and scales swing.

Dear Reader, last week I moaned to you about ‘Them December blues…’ Well, a kindly gentleman reader gently upbraided me for only groaning on and on about my gloomy preparations for Christmas and not performing up to my usual par. Anyway, I quite understood his peeve. The problem with writing humourous pieces really is that the reader is often hard put to distinguish fact from fiction. This week, therefore, the blues ‘are followed by the Christmas of my dreams.’ I think that should heal the breech, sir. Let me tell you out rightly, though, that my dreams are not up to much, if you get my drift.

My favourite Christmas experience, of course, is shopping. Have you noticed that Christmas is all about shopping, shopping, shopping till you drop? Yes, really, the Christmas experience is all about shopping. This is why every formal and informal businessman, civil trader, transporter, state troopers, me, my dog, etc., I say every one of us runs around like crazy to make that extra bit of money to take care of Christmas demands like food and clothes (for us the children), gifts (for us the missus), special gifts (for us the mistresses) and very special gifts (for us the others). Oh, I am just drooling at the joy of Christmas shopping.

This year though, the shops are there, but alas, the funds are MIS – (Missing In Action). This means they are not where they should be – you know, in my pocket. They are ‘not on seat’ as we say in Nigeria. No, I am not moaning again; I am just saying. So, finding myself helpless, I determine to at least, ‘look around’. Towns and cities have been built from just looking around. Who knows what may come?

As I look around, I cannot help but notice that each shop is going out of its way to sell Christmas to me. There are the shelf displays. There are the Christmas lights blinking all the colours of the rainbow. There are the food shelves loaded to the hilt with attractively labelled packs and tins. And oh, there is the music; catchy yuletide tunes that just take me back through the centuries to when Christ was born, though I cannot find him in the shops.

Have you noticed that Christmas shopping is more about Santa Claus? Seriously, I don’t know who the guy is but he has taken over every shop selling Christmas, even in Nigeria. Listen, now, gifts and food and the special Christmas spirit are not given by people or God but by Santa. They say he is the venerable old man who brings something for the poor and the rich alike. He brings material gifts for the poor and spiritual gifts for the rich because there is a notion that the poor usually lack material comfort and the rich are all dried up spiritually. I don’t know how true that is but I certainly know where I belong in case the … err… Santa is listening. I am firmly seated on the fence. You can’t miss me; just follow everybody’s stones.

Anyway, my dreams are simple. I am dreaming of a Christmas filled with many gifts from Santa. First, I want him to give me electricity! I think I said this last year. Well, nothing has changed. Man, it is only in Nigeria that electricity is considered a privilege. That is why we have eighteen hours of no-electricity in my neighbourhood (it’s more in some others, I hear); and also why children still hail the company whenever light is restored.

Seriously, for as long as I remember, Christmas days have been bleak not because it is winter (I wish; at least that would save one from this dust), but because there has been no power to power anything that can make some powerful noise around me. Each year, the duty of NEPA (then) and IBEDC (now) was and has been to greet us with a veil of darkness and silence from its poles. Perhaps, Santa coming from his own poles, can make better noises, such as SWISH, and light up the place, twenty-four-seven. That will be something.

A propos the matter of light. Last night, I heard a nasty little rumour which I’m praying is not true. I heard that Nigeria was considering selling its excess electricity to other countries. If that is true, then I am hurt and deeply wounded. My wound is so deep I cannot begin to qualify it. How can I be given only six hours of electricity per day while my country sells the stuff to foreign countries? Where is the justice in that, eh? Have I been given the opportunity of first offer for that stuff and I refused it and preferred to stay in darkness? How on earth can anyone do that to me or you or the families that have perished from inhaling generator fumes because there was no electricity? How on earth…?

I have never taken anyone to court before because most people have not been sufficiently nasty to me to warrant it. However, if the government goes ahead to export electricity when I am in dire need of it at this Christmas time, I tell you, wild horses could not keep me from consulting the Justice Lady and we’ll see which way her sword and scales swing. I tell you, I will not whimper quietly this time.

This Christmas, I am dreaming of a Nigeria where terrorism (e.g. boko haram), militancy (e.g. Niger Delta), unexplainable killings (e.g. by herdsmen), kidnappings (e.g. Evans’ style as alleged), road blocks (e.g. Nigeria Police), etc., would all cease and we would have some much needed rest and respite from this litany of bad human errors that assault us daily! Haba! Don’t we get tired? Let’s have a different, totally new, totally unexpected and totally pleasant experience this year so that our song will sound like something taken from the TALES PLEASANT book for children. I told you, my dreams are simple.

Just one more dream and I’m done. This Christmas, I’m wishing that corruption would not sit down to eat with us. For too many yuletides, it has overshadowed our celebrations, with one scandal or the other breaking out, and has taken over our streets. Just yesterday, I overheard a businessman complain that the young men he hired to handle his rental business have become corrupt. They now have their own clients for whom they use his materials. Imagine his surprise to see his tents at a ceremony he attended and there was no record of the transaction in his ledgers. Things are so bad with us and corruption now that even landlords will soon be tempted to deduct from the rents they collect before they remember the entire money belongs to them. Everyone suffers.

The stuff that Christmas dreams are made of here are things taken for granted in other countries – sincerity, accountability, kindness, wholesomeness, etc. This is why we have to pray hard for them. It is also why I’m wishing that you will have yourself a very merry time considering all the stress you’ve been through – no light, no food, no sanity, no government even…. Don’t be afraid to get that cow, goat, turkey or chicken and celebrate with it, even if the sellers are behaving like little cows or are goat-headed or are talking turkey or want to chicken out. Just tell them it’s Christmas and it has been a stressful year. Here’s to no more stressful years. MERRY CHRISTMAS!

December comes mainly to annoy me: it reminds me that I have failed once again, just like Nigeria, to realise my year’s dreams

Reader, we are in that part of the year when the air around me is dry, dusty and crackly; and I’m getting that sinking feeling again that perhaps, the year might be ending. Oh yes, I’ve confirmed it; my bones tell me it’s the year’s end all right. It is also the time to get Them December blues.

These seasonal blues are a little like the jitters that brides and grooms experience. They come mainly from failed dreams. For instance, most brides and groom usually hope that by two weeks to their set day, everything is in place. Miraculously, all their relatives turn into rich and reasonable human beings, all their friends turn into generous gremlins and Father Christmas visits early to grant the remaining wishes. In reality though, relatives remain who they are, friends grin through it all with you and trust me, provisions remain as miraculous as roses in January. So, December comes mainly to annoy me: it reminds me that I have failed once again, just like Nigeria, to realise my year’s dreams. Did Nigeria not promise to make life better for me this year? Now it’s worse…

You would have the blues too if you had to deal with the things I am contending with. Why, there are all these news reports that are so terrible they are enough to make the blood curdle. I read about the incident of the little girl who died of VVF because she was allegedly raped again and again by her Uncle-guardian and his son. Ugh, some uncle! If the report is true, that defenseless little girl was played with like a supposedly useless ball by that ‘priceless’ guardian-son duo because their combined brains were no bigger than one single pea and they knew no better.

Then there is the ASUU strike that the government is just so reluctant to end because it says it has no money. Yet, reports have it that the government ever readily settles INEC’s rather monstrous bills, sharp, sharp; even though no increased profit is really anticipated from that spending, except for someone or other being ‘elected’ to milk the country dry again. For this tardiness, our young ones have to stay at home, idling, instead of learning some good stuff about innovative thinking.

There is also the fact that the political situation is not getting any better. In fact, it appears to be getting more and more roiled because of Nigerians’ unconscionable behaviour. I mean, you can imagine how bad it has got when the first lady begins to ask very pertinent questions: is there any man left in this house of a country to rescue it? Now, what is one to take from that? One, there are no men in Nigeria. All of them are women. Two, there are no men in Nigeria. All of them are women. Oh, I said that before? Sorry.

Seriously, the fact that there are ‘no more men’ in Nigeria is enough to give one some serious, heavy blues. I’m getting the blues because the people who people the leadership male-hood of this country are turning out to be some empty, self-absorbed, power hungry and visionless men of wood. No wonder the woman’s frustrations burst their banks. Clearly, we have a serious blues-giving and blues-fueling situation.

The one that gives me the blues most of all is this complete disregard for the laws of the land exhibited by nearly everyone in this country. Take an example. It used to be before that the law said do not steal. Somehow, Nigerians changed it to ‘Do not steal; but if you do, don’t get caught.’ Again, Nigerians have gone one further. Now it’s ‘Do not steal; if you do, don’t get caught. In the event you are caught, get eighty lawyers. They will get you out.’ Yet, we are all expecting the country to work!

Then of course, when you consider that December usually ushers in the Christmas season, I have some jitters. No, don’t get me wrong; I love Christmas. It’s just that when the season begins to approach, I am reminded once again of the stress I pass through. The stress begins when I remember the things I require: a good sized, friendly turkey, a nice dress to complement my nice round shape (now a football and I are in a fierce competition), nice shoes that complement my now flattening feet, and a house full of the joie de vivre. You think I’m asking for the moon? Why, naaaaaaay!

To start with though, turkeys are not exactly friendly. You might ask, am I wanting to eat it or shake hands with it? Eat it, I guess, but we could be friends first at least. Call me paranoid, but when you begin to hear cackles behind you when you pass by some cages full of hissing turkeys, you would get suspicious too. Anyway, I am a bit wary of them; all I have to do is dream up some scheme to convince them to get over their animosity towards me and kindly get into my pot.

The stress of the turkey is however nothing compared to the stress of getting a dress that would fit nicely on me. Like many people, I have reduced my dress-buying habit to once a year, courtesy of the current Buharinomics. That is a special brand of economics that says very plainly ‘put your money only on things that matter, you know, like life and death.’ So, I have learnt to save what I have for food (to keep life), drugs (to prevent death), and one dress a year (to prevent death of my social image). This means, of course, that many luxury items have had to bite the dust – new glasses, new Christmas decorations even though the old ones are super tangled, and a new carpet for the floor.

The only problem is that my figure has refused to sit still but persists in shifting the fat around like a barrel of oil each month, like the moon, hence my dress-need. This month, the fat is at the top, next month in the middle or it just rolls like some blob. Unfortunately, though, the dresses I see and like are made for the ultra slim, my dream figure, literally. They are for the kind of people I hate and should poke in the eye for being so… so… so beautiful. Are you still wondering why I’m getting the blues?

With no luck on the dress, I try for some shoes. Bad economy or not, I got to walk like a duck, at least once a year, what with social image an’ all. Again, I am astounded by the unending range of footwear for the, you guessed it, slim feet, the kind I poke in the eye…. The ones that can accommodate my flat feet are priced out of my pocket range. Obviously, going by these facts, it seems that the duck walk has been put well beyond my gait. I must settle instead for the roman soldier walk shoes – aka marching shoes. It is the kind of shoes you wear when you have been sent to arrest someone for thinking too much. Let me just see what I can do about the price.

Now, you understand my December blues. How can I get the house filled with that joie de vivre when nothing is drying up them December blues? There are just too many springs for it. However, I have decided that I will have a word with my round shape, my flat feet and the weather. Something must give, and I know it will not be me. Have a wonderful Christmas preparation, in spite of everything going on around us.

Kindness is borne on the wings of respect which again must percolate from the top to the bottom in this pyramidal structure, what with gravity and all.

I tell you, it’s a tough world we’re living in. Just imagine, reader, being robbed in a vehicle while you’re travelling from one town to another in this our Nigeria. I know it has happened to many of us, much of it going unreported. Well, it happened to me recently, and so close to Christmas too! Some unconscionable characters who… who… who just don’t know the meaning of the word kindness just take it into their heads to rebel against the society using you. I know it has happened to many people. Only one thought is going round my head now: why on earth will these people not read about kindness on PU?!

Seriously, though, our piece last on kindness (continued) drew some more reactions and its important I share one or two of them with you.

… I totally agree with you in the content of your write up…, especially when you summed it up about (how) Nigerians are being punished for being too kind to (their) politicians. (However) Good deeds are not punished but rewarded. Only evil deeds are punished. Hope you get my drift. O. A. 08023109035.

…Madam kindness Oyinkan. Your column on kindness with regards to you should be focused on service to humanity as your mother told you. Since you are not a bank the money you cannot forget don’t (lend) people because you are always complaining of not having much money. Be happy. Y. B. 09084859315

Thanks to the both of you, gentlemen, for sharing your thoughts on this topic. I quite agree with my first respondent that in an ideal world, only good deeds are rewarded and wickedness is punished. Thank you, sir, for pointing out my grave omission of that crucial sentence. However, the pun (and the fun) occurs when you interchange the conceptions and achieve an irony that scares you, especially when you remember that some acts of kindness do sometimes end in disaster. Try and recollect what happened the last time you lent someone your car, motorcycle, bicycle, book, boyfriend or brain. I can recollect some of the put-downs I have received in the course of writing PU. Don’t let me tell you stories. Thankfully, they have been countered by the very many encouraging words from my many more discerning readers.

I can assure you sir, Mr. Y. B., that I am focused on that lesson learned in my youth. I can’t say I have been a very good student but I think the fun has been in the learning and gathering of mosses along the way. You are quite right though to note that acts of kindness can sometimes be hampered by lack of funds, though I don’t recollect telling you that pertains to me exactly. I have often complained rather that people have this nasty habit of not putting my name on their lists when goodies are being distributed. If I appropriate some situations to myself, it is only because jokes fall flat and become insults when they are not directed at the self. Thanks anyhow and keep reading.

Yep, reader, kindness is still a hot topic around here as you can see and where better to illustrate it than in our own peculiar Nigerian corruption situation? The world is today marking the international anti-corruption day. I guess that means they’re focusing on us as the most corrupt nation in the world.

You see, at the heart of corruption is unkindness. Depriving a person or group of a service one is in charge of amounts to unkindness. Depriving a person or a group access to a fund meant for their use or to be used on their behalf also amounts to unkindness. It kills. Misusing a public facility placed in one’s charge amounts to unkindness. Kindness is such a little word but packs such a massive conception that its absence spells calamity.

During the week, I received a post sent by someone whose car burst into flames while on the highway. He was so impressed by the prompt and kind responses of Nigerians who sprang to his aid and put out the fire before even asking to know what tribe, creed or race the car’s owner was. I joined him in appreciating this alacritous kindness but I noted that some of the people who helped to put out the fire would as readily cut his throat in any business transaction. There is a saying that even a murderer helps a child to cross the road.

The regular Nigerian (as against the occasional bad egg) is the smiling, chatty petrol attendant whom you ask to please give you two thousand Naira fuel but who gives you one thousand, five hundred Naira worth and pockets the difference. At the airport, he/she is the nice official who tears your bags irreverently to pinch valuables. He/she is the helpful civil service official who keeps you sitting in the office until you call him or her aside for ‘settlement’. He/she is on the road strutting in the nation’s uniforms collecting ‘tings’ when not throwing their weight around.

The Nigerian is the person who welcomes you wearing a ‘come-to-our-crusade’ badge at the seaport services sector wearing any kind of religious garb and lets you know point blank that you cannot clear your goods until you pay a certain sum outside official charges. The Nigerian is the one who has learnt to deviously twist the morals of his or her position to weasel out extrajudicial advantages and/or payments from the people in very unkind acts that cut deep. Yep, the corrupt Nigerian is the one feeding on the person next to him or her. Unfortunately, he/she lives in you and I and everyone else.

My theory on corruption is this. Whether we agree or not, it started in Nigeria from the leadership which sat atop the social pyramid from the beginning. It took a while for the people to learn the tricks of it. That was why the 1960/70s were calm. However, it percolated slowly, gradually and gently down this pyramid until it reached the bottom rung, infecting everyone, scattering our public morality and taking off in the 1980s. Now, we notice that everyone is imbibing it, even the babe-in-arms (you try and give a new-born money!). Today, very few salespersons know the meaning of honesty. Yep, the theory of gravity still rules, ok!

I believe our leaders did not know what they were starting when they embarked on planting the tree of corruption. They had this… this… inability to respect the people, which in turn, engendered the various acts of unkindness we got from them. Hence, they ruled with deception, used the people for ritual sacrifices, set the dogs of war on the people, and deprived them of their very lives and livelihood. When the results are now coming in the form of boko haram, Niger Delta militancy, herdsmen killers, funds mismanagement, social disconnect, lawlessness and disorder, chaos and confusion, an individual thinking the state belongs to him and his family, etc., we are all looking stupid.

Kindness is borne on the wings of respect which again must percolate from the top to the bottom in this social pyramidal structure, what with gravity and all. Things will change when the leaders learn to respect the people and GIVE THEM good roads to drive on, electricity to do business with, factories to work in, good health systems, good social contract, accountability, probity, responsive and open governance, etc. Then, the people will learn to respect themselves and each other, and begin to show each other this little thing called kindness. Lack of kindness is at the heart of corruption; it stands to reason then that kindness to others is the fuel for the anti-corruption drive.

Some good deeds never go unpunished … We are being punished for being too kind to our politicians…

The World Hello Day was celebrated some time ago but I was much too busy to stop and say Hello! to you, dear reader. This is why I am saying Hello! now. Although, to be honest, I have been saying Hello! to you practically every week since this column began some years ago or so; you just might not have noticed it.

The very astute among us (don’t mind the geniuses) would have noticed my Hello! every now and then. But the averagely attentive ones, who are ever and anon like me, would have let my Hello! go by without any notice. Then of course, those among us who have never even noticed me winking at you all would also have passed by my Hello! without seeing it. Someday, we really must talk about this Hello! Oh yes, don’t worry, we will find something to say on Hello!

There are so many other topics angling for attention. There is the fact that the world is also marking the ‘Elimination of Violence Against Women’ day, the philosophy day, which is my pet subject. I would have so loved to talk about these but we have something else planned.

Last week, the topic was kindness, and I got some interesting replies from some of my readers. I had said that kindness is one value that keeps going round. When you give it to someone, it is bound to come back to you, just like wickedness. Many of us don’t know that. Anyway, let me reproduce this particular complaint for you, faithfully.

GOOD MORNING MADAM OYINKAN. I READ WHAT YOU WROTE ON PUNCH PAPER OF NOV. 25, 2018 PAGE 20 TITLED KINDNESS: WHAT GOES AROUND. FIRST OF ALL, I WANT TO THANK GOD FOR YOUR LIFE. LET ME TELL YOU WHAT I EXPERIENCED OF RECENT. MY WIFE WAS SERIOUSLY SICK, ADMITTED AT UHTH WHERE WE SPENT TWO MONTHS. SPENT CLOSE TO A MILLION NAIRA. ALL EFFORTS TO GET HELP FROM… FELL ON A BRICK WALL.WE HAVE SPENT ALL WE SAVED FOR OUR UPKEEP AFTER MY RETIREMENT AS A PUBLIC SERVANT. THE WORST ASPECT IS LACK OF FEEDING. I REMEMBER I HELPED A LOT OF PEOPLE. WHERE AND WHEN MY REWARD BE? BECAUSE NOW SUFFERING AND NO HELP FROM ANYWHERE. 2348034355148

If he had not got my name right, I would have taken offence at the wrong paper he cited. Anyway, there was no name to go with this much abbreviated letter but I think we all understand the tone of disbelief that any act of kindness can ever bring forth its kind. The writer is very likely to be of the school of thought that says no good deed ever goes unpunished. He says he has been kind to people in his time and what does he get in his own time of need? Silence.

Well sir, this situation reminds me of when I was young and still fresh in the ways of the world. I had come into the world believing that when you show an act of kindness to someone, you would get it back a hundred fold. Yes, that’s just what we said last week. But I believed then that I had the right to expect kindness back because I gave it. My poor mother shook her head and told me that I should not expect kindness in return when I gave it. I should just do it for the sake of itself. If people were kind to me in return, then fine; if not, kindness was its own reward.

I sincerely sympathise with you sir, Mr. Kind-heart, on the illness of your wife and hope and pray she has much recovered. I also sympathise that you had to go through all that alone, and your savings so fast. I would ask you however not to despair even though you felt that people had not repaid your kindness enough. The end-goal of being kind is not so that people can give you kindness back in return. The end-goal is the relief you have been able to give to others through your acts of kindness. Your kindness will come back to you in ways and times that you do not expect. It invariably does. So, please continue to be kind to others…

It is not impossible, folks, for some kindnesses to go unpunished, I can assure you that. I have lost count of the times I have lent people money and now they won’t even speak to me. Of course, I do not have the heart to ask for my money back. No, of course not, I am not lending you any money. I don’t need another enemy; I have enough.

Speaking of money. Like everyone else, I have been semi-keenly watching the political arena and have been shaking my head in despair at the antics of our prize politicians. I have told you many times that I do not like getting embroiled in Nigerian politricks. I leave that to my more politically savvy colleagues. They have the grit to take all the blood splattering and dark mumblings that splutter forth from the hot cauldron. I will however just mention the one act that I consider to be the unkindest cut of all, if it is true.

I read somewhere, during the week, that a presidential aspirant, ex-Vice president Atiku, took about four hundred people to Dubai to go and ‘strategise’ on his political campaign that would hold in Nigeria. I say, when I read that, I had only one question for him: why was my name not on that list? Seriously, though, if this story is true (and I sincerely hope it is not), then we are in serious trouble. It would mean that after all is said and done, after fifty-something years in self-governance, we still have not got it.

Countries all over the world work assiduously to bring resources into their countries. Nigerians work most assuredly and assiduously to take resources from their country to give freely to other countries, leaving Nigeria very, very poor. Funny thing is that, in spite of all these acts of self-vandalism, we wonder why things are so bad. How is it that no one in the world has ever told us how incredibly stupid we are when we persist in doing this?

Nigeria is in a bad place right now, looking for who to fix her. She is looking for someone to tell her that the way she has been doing business has been injurious to her health. Yet, all we seem to get are people too ready to sink her. Here we are just popping out our heads out of the holes of boko haram attacks, Fulani herdsmen attacks, kidnapper attacks, sinking economy, expensive and chaotic political arrangements we cannot afford, gross social disorders, disingenuous and senseless social constructions, and just hanging on by the skin of our teeth… I say here we are and all we are getting are these dispiriting news about how money is being splashed by Nigerians on Nigerians into the economies of other countries. Now, how’s that for political brilliance?

We the people of this country, out of the kindness of our hearts, elected people into political offices – presidency, senate, house of representatives, state assemblies, etc., to make this country good and great again. They got in and started living life to the hilt, really living it up. Now they won’t listen to any blessed thing we tell them. They will not reduce their pay when we tell them the country is broke and the rest of us are poor. They entrench themselves and their offspring into these political positions so that their lineages can continue to ‘eat’ us… Reader, obviously some good deeds never go unpunished … We are being punished for being too kind to our politicians.

Nigerians are the unkindest set of people on earth when it comes to dealing with each other. In fact, I unhesitatingly declare that Nigerians hate each other with an uncommon hatred.

Look at it this way. I bet that if you and I were to be placed on a kindness scale to find out how kind we have been to others, I would do better than you. Let me tell you why. First, I greet anyone I meet on the street with a smile. Then I regularly give my lunch to strangers. Then, biggest of all, I give my money to the poor. Did you believe me? How could you?!

To start with, it is not possible for me to smile at everyone I meet because most times I am driving, and I am too busy praying that the blessed car would not decide to stop somewhere along the road because it wants a drink of water, like a stubborn horse. It has happened before, and believe me, it was not a smiling matter. There I was driving along peacefully and minding my own business when suddenly some passersby started to gesticulate wildly to me, pointing at my bonnet. I thought they wanted a ride on it and was getting some nice, explosive expletive ready for them when I noticed that smoke was escaping from the said bonnet.

Well, I need not tell you that the story ended with me running out of the car; oh yes, the engine was still running too, thanks for asking. Luckily, some good Samaritans came to my rescue. But I did not at all like the mechanic’s question. ‘Did you not watch the temperature gauge?’ ‘Where is it?’, I replied. Also, his hooting laughter did not help any. Well, since that day, I have learnt to keep one eye on the blessed gauge, one on the road, another on the passers-by, and one on the car in front of me. Luckily, I have four eyes. Now, do you still wonder why I do not spread kindness by smiling at everyone I meet?

Then of course, I have recently found out that my weight is shooting through the roof. I cannot honestly say that I do not know why. I have long since suspected that eating too much pancakes and akara can have a deleterious effect on the body. The stupid things have a way of pretending they do not know where to go and pile themselves up instead around the waist, hips, chest, head, arms, and everywhere! One morning, you just wake up and find the scales lying to you again that you are overweight. But deep in your mind, you know it is because you forgot to be kind to people by sharing with them the little pancakes and akara you have been blessed with. Now, nature is retaliating. I have to take four-kilometre walks around my neighbourhood each dawn mumbling something about this kind of crime and punishment not being a fair bargain.

Obviously, I live a very busy life, not quite on the fast lane, but busy enough, thank you. If I am not poring over books by grading, reading, correcting, reading, writing, grading, asking, (e.g. what does a student mean by ‘snake bites student, lands in the hospital!’), then I’m teaching. For that, I find myself hopping madly from one hour to the next, trying to beat the time, the traffic, and the bathroom routine. With such unearthly engagements, how on earth do you expect me to see the beggars standing by the roadside? And when I do see them, I have sort of noticed that each one of them brings out his/her disabled arm or leg or other part (no matter how private) for my viewing pleasure. Isn’t that so annoying? So, how can I spread love and joy to those who wake up in the morning with the determined aim to take advantage of my good nature by shoving their amputations or swellings in my face? So, no, I do not give my money to the poor; I am too busy and grumpy to see them.

Not so, says the World Kindness Week which ran from the 13th to the 20th of this month. During that week, we were called on to remember the usefulness of performing acts of kindness to our fellow human beings. We were told to remember what kindness is all about and what it looks like: having enough compassion to be considerate and caring towards others, particularly those who cannot pay us back. Like the beggars.

I have always said that Nigerians are the unkindest set of people on earth when it comes to dealing with each other. In fact, I unhesitatingly declare that Nigerians hate each other with an uncommon hatred. It is only unkindness that can prompt anyone to hide the public’s millions and billions and trillions of Naira in untraceable accounts and then run behind his race or religion for cover against the rest of the country. It is only unkindness that will make a driver of one of those big Jeeps or Lorries or Trailers shove everybody else off the road into a ditch or even death just because the law is too weak to catch them. I know someone who died from that. It is also unkindness that would make a Nigerian carpenter or plumber promise that he would be with you at eight in the morning, knowing you have an emergency, and then turn up two days later.

I have found that very few Nigerians are really humble at their jobs; they are too busy respecting money. Most public servants think that the posts they occupy deserve your unqualified worship. Woe betide your business if you don’t give it. Just yesterday, a public servant called me to enquire about my tie to a concern. When I sought clarification, he took umbrage that I dared to ask him any question. Once in their uniform, most defense corps personnel that man Nigerian roads become wear arrogance as an overcoat. They throw politeness and kindness out the window.

Listen, there are too many reasons why we should be kind to each other. To start with, the world is round. Really. You see, what goes around does come around. Someone told the story of how he was travelling along a lonely road early one evening and came on a vehicle that had pulled up by the side of the road. The owner had run out of fuel. He parked his own car, satisfied the owner’s fuel needs before going on his own way. Not long after, he had a mechanical failure on a lonely road too, on a dark, stormy night. He could not believe it when someone pulled up beside him and helped him out of his jam that night; no money could have bought that.

It is true though that much danger sometimes attends an unwary act of kindness in Nigeria because we have so much to deal with – wickedness, superstition, ritual murderers, and yes, policemen who jump to wrong conclusions, etc. One family was said to have been on a journey and came across what looked like an accident victim. Stopping to see what they could do, they were soon surrounded by ritual murderers who had used a decoy to get them to stop. To cut the story short, they lost a son to the cut-throats that day, and the family has not been the same since then. We are each other’s victims.

Nevertheless, the World Kindness Week is here to remind us that kindness is not an old-fashioned word. It still lives, and everyone can do with a little bit of it; for many, even a smile would do. Today, give a cup of kindness to your parents, family, friends, neighbours, fellow Nigerians. One day, you just might need it back.

Reader, I could talk about the fact that Nigeria is said to have the worst toilet manners in the world, but not yet. Maybe later. I could talk about politics again, but that’s getting boring. Today, I still got education on my mind. I know, I know, we have looked at it from many angles before: the government angle, the teacher angle, the classroom angle… But I looked at something I wrote some time ago and could not help note the aptness of its facts. It’s on the parent angle, and how this generation has failed the country.

Fact one: the Nigerian school system has collapsed. That is not news. Yet, for some strange reason, everyone is shocked that more than fifty percent of the pupils who sit for WAEC examinations at any given year fail to obtain the required five credits. In a state, I hear less than two hundred even registered for the examination. Fact two: there is also failure of governance in Nigeria. Everyone knows that too. Yet, somehow, we the general public continue to expect miraculous delivery of dividends to flow from the putrefying throne.

I think much has been said about the angles mentioned above already. One factor that I think is often overlooked is the fact that the failures we are witnessing at WAEC, and even tertiary, levels actually begin from the failures that are not addressed at the primary level. It is at the primary level that we have the highest number of children. That is also where we have the higher number of parents who do not understand what education means or how to achieve its goals.

All the work of teaching children is being done at this crucial foundational level by teachers who are ill-paid, ill-regarded and ill-motivated. Parents hardly complement teachers’ efforts anymore by teaching the children some more at home. Agreed, many parents are illiterates and may not really understand what is going on in school. Most parents who are rich are so rich that they use their wealth and position to neglect their children. They forget to teach their children. This is another massive failure.

A good many adults in this country are in some position of authority or the other as civil servants, corporate managers, traders or entrepreneurs, heads of religious bodies, housewives, househusbands, school or college teachers, etc. (Firstly though, if you are an adult and you are not yet a parent, wait for it, it will come — all good and bad things eventually come. Secondly, if you are a parent and your category is not covered by this list, don’t be annoyed; just find a bench and squeeze yourself in somewhere. Thanks.)

As I was saying, one of the requirements for holding authority is that you must mentor someone else: your children, your wards, your subordinates, your village urchins, your village groups, even your spouse(s). These are your responsibilities, one and all. Unfortunately, practically everyone has ditched these responsibilities in favour of self-aggrandising schemes, or money-making pursuits. Problem is though, work that is left undone has a way of … remaining undone. Nowhere does this show as readily as children that are not taught.

Let’s take the home. I don’t care how important or unimportant you are, but you must admit that you have sometimes been embarrassed by your child in the house as a result of one lesson or the other you failed to impart in the child. (I knew it; you lie). Many times, it eventually shows up anyway. One parent was said to have appealed to his son’s friend to please talk some sense into his ‘friend’ over an issue the father could not handle. This was a sure sign that the ‘big man in society’ had lost control of his own son and needed help from a youngster.

Parental failures can be more brutal. In the news recently, there were reports of a child murdering his father over a stick of cigarette; while another murdered and hacked his father to little pieces that he could easily dispose of; yet another child murdered his mother for over-pampering him and not bringing him up properly; and another child was taught by his father how to rape a defenseless toddler. Just recently, another child drove his mother, while he was drunk, to her death … Should I go on?

Even if you ferry your own children across the seas to some expensive public school abroad, you may be worse off. If we do not give our children a solid foundation whether they are in public or private or overseas schooling, the results will surprise us. You might be surprised that the products of our public schools will still rub shoulders with your expensively educated children in the world either as their work rivals or bosses or subordinates, house-helps, armed robbers, murderers, kidnappers, or 419er – pick whichever one you like. For now, there is just this one world, and we all have to share it.

Take our public schools. Because some people are not doing their work, our public primary schools are the most deplorable shells outside and inside – children are let in by day and goats are let in by night. Yes, there are people in charge of the schools. The teachers, the authorities in the ministries of education, the local governments, the various boards dealing with education, etc., are all … wait for it, parents! Halleluiah!

Let’s face it. This generation of parents has failed to teach the next generation because the gospel of money has taken over everyone’s imagination. We have failed to teach them the value of education. Our Generation W (that’s us) have been a disgrace to the values taught by our parents (Generation V) because we are not teaching our children (Generation X) those values which preach hard work, good sense and kindness. I predict that their children (Generation Y) will be worse than them, because of OUR failures. Don’t even think about Gen Z.

Every generation is supposed to improve on the previous one. I keep remembering stories from our parents about how they walked miles without shoes to get some education. When it came to my turn, the car dropped us off some of the miles and we walked the rest. And I had Angelina shoes. The western world became the attraction it is today for the rest of the world because each generation built on the successes of the previous one while avoiding the errors. These days, we appear to be more interested in taking public recklessness to the most abominable level imaginable. The Have-nots walk to school to sleep, while the Haves (on public funds) take their children to the bedroom in the car.

I keep wondering what many parents will show their children as their achievements. Let’s see now, I imagine it will go something like this. I was appointed into this juicy position and instead of doing something great for the country, I managed to send you and your brother and your mother overseas to school and live there, you know, so that you would have quality education, not like what we have here. Is that not enough, eh?

There is nothing wrong with education today that cannot be cured by educating parents. If parents will stop misusing their positions and instead concentrate on teaching their children, more money will be available to spend on the Nigerian classroom and its teachers. Children will actually find themselves learning something before leaving primary school, and there will be less tears and cries when examination results are released.

Dreaming big must begin from infancy and the parents drive this package for their little girls. Now, there is no place too high for a little girl to get to – even the orbit

We’ve never talked about dreams on this column, right? I think one day we should because I have found that our leaders don’t dream. If they did, this country should have been in a better place instead of the baaaaad place we’re in right now. When I mentioned this to someone, she said, ‘how can they dream when they’re busy holding their evil political meetings at night? Jo o, let’s talk about something else jare.’ So today, we shall be talking about little girls’ dreams, which begin with the packages they are handed from their infanthood.

In all the very many decades of my youthful existence, I know very few people who do not like receiving gifts. I think such people have some kind of vitamin deficiency. Please don’t ask me which one, because I don’t know. All I know is that everyone should have a little bit of self-love for self-preservation. I think I have it in a large quantity because me, I just love receiving gifts. I’m still trying to recover from my data gift. So, when you hand me that well-wrapped package, that moment that I take to guess the content is the best moment of all; and the bigger the wrap, the bigger the moment. So, when it comes to receiving gifts, I assure you, every day is my birthday.

I also love giving gifts. Hey, why do you think I write this for you each week, dear reader? If I did not love giving gifts, I tell you, someone else would be poring over this column. It is that love that has compelled me to bring this week’s gift offering to … the girl child, that segment of the society we love to overlook. Don’t go anywhere though, daddy and mummy; since we are all equally guilty of overlooking this topic, we must all look through it together.

The life of the girl child is obviously a mysterious one. For most girls between the ages of three to eighteen, life is a mystery wrapped in an enigma. As one wrap is unfolded to reveal the great secret within, another well wrapped package is handed her. Those years constitute the years of unwrapping of packages that muddle up dreams.

Usually, the first package little girls unwrap may contain the fact that contrary to their specifications upon being born, the heavens forgot to add ‘princess’ to their biostatistics. So, most girls find that they have to learn to earn their keep. Their handlers (that’s usually the mother and father) throw the little tykes at the dirty dishes, sometimes even hissing at them, ‘who do you think you are, a princess’? Nothing hurts like one’s dream being shattered, right? Well, our girls have only one thing to moan about, ‘Why am I not a …?’

The next package our little girls receive gives them a shock that reverberates through their entire little bodies and sometimes even their lives. It is the least palatable of all the packages they will ever receive. Some little girls might recover from it, some never and some work their way through it. This shock, ladies and gentlemen, is the discovery that their father or mother is not made of the same silk as Dangote. Most times, daddy is not even related to Dangote. This realisation comes slowly to most girls as they watch their mothers pinch pennies and salt with the same thumb and forefinger and admonish all in the house to make do with no meat, no sugar, no school fees. All the dreams about living well going up in smoke, no? Again, our little girls have only one retort, ‘Why is daddy not …?’

The time soon comes to unwrap another package. This time, it’s so big that our girl needs to grow up to be handed this one. As she unwraps it, she finds to her consternation that all her fantasies are taking flight. The content of the package simply states that life has to be lived, not dreamed upon. While dreams and dreaming may be allowed, it is work that makes them come true. So, our girl finds she has to work her way through life beginning with dream-shattering school. Now, the retort is ‘Why do I have to go…?’

Talking of dream shatterers. There is one package that life hands to our little girl. When she unwraps it, she finds that it contains all kinds of relatives – father, mother, siblings, uncles, aunts, cousins, etc. She soon learns that these relatives exist mostly for her good and to help her carry the burden of life, if she is lucky. She might be unlucky though to find that these relatives may constitute her burdens. Biological father is not father to her but her rapist who in turn begets children by her. Mother is not mother to her but her social embarrassment and tyrant. Uncle is not uncle but her rapist. Aunt is not aunt but one who takes advantage of her and sells her into prostitution-slavery. The retort now becomes, ‘Why am I so …?’ It’s kind of like that song that goes, ‘… your daddy ain’t your daddy but your daddy don’t know.’

Just one more package reader and we’re done. Our girl gets this package that shows her the way forward in life. When she unwraps it, she finds that it contains all kinds of people who know one way or another and point them all out to her. In that package, she would find many teachers, nurses, doctors, civil servants, mechanics, engineers, businessmen and women, priests, and so on. Each one she meets in the course of life will impact her own life one way or the other. What she makes of the ways they show her will depend on her.

Don’t blame me too much, reader, for going all philosophical on you today. You know what they say about philosophy, don’t you? It raises more questions and never gives you the answers. More importantly, it has you going in all kinds of directions. Likewise, there is no answer that I can give our little girl child today; but I can give many admonitions, considering I was once, err… a little girl child myself.

The theme for this year’s international girl-child day is ‘With her: a skilled girl force’. The emphasis is to train the girl child properly so that she can grow up and into her responsibilities as a well-oriented member of the society. This means that from her youth, a girl child can be encouraged by those around her to lift her head out of the package of dreams and begin to dream. She must go to school.

I seem to contradict myself, right? Listen, there are dreams and there is dreaming. Dreams are the fantasies I weave around life when I wish I would not have to lift my grubby fingers again to fetch a bucket of water but that nature would provide me with a foot shower to wash the grime off my feet at the close of day. Dreaming is when I actually go to my work table and begin to put tools together in order to invent that foot shower that can wash the grime off my feet. When girls are given dreams of a possible future, then dreaming big can begin.

Dreaming big must begin from infancy and the parents drive this package for their little girls by ensuring she begins to be equipped for work in adulthood. Now, there is no place too high for a little girl to get to – even the orbit. Every woman who has got somewhere is an example of this truism. Every little girl in your care therefore is a work force waiting to happen.