The Nation Newspaper

Category: Oyinkan Medubi

  • Where it all goes…

    So nope, I don’t know where N600b plus beer goes among Nigeria’s 160m males and females. Wherever it does go, though, I’m sure it is quite at home.

    Once again, dear reader, we are going to gleefully leave behind us, for a while at least, all the depressing talk about this country’s politics and problems. Have you noticed that these two seem to go hand-in-hand? Anyway, once again, we are going to kick off our shoes, hoist our cups of beer and trip the light fantastic. At least, you are, and I will join you by hoisting my cup of waterlou. If you have been keeping faith with this column, you will understand why I take waterlou. I certainly am not going to regale you with that tale.

    Please don’t get me wrong. The stories you will read here are not meant to denigrate beer drinkers or promote beer drinking in any way. I have been trying rather to answer the question, ‘what’s in a beer’ for the past three years. I bet you thought you had heard the last of it. Not by a long shot, until we get to why the breweries are posting insanely, obscenely, huge profits each year when nearly every Nigerian you meet is a church-or-mosque-going religionist, and dirt poor to boot. Each one swears by their individual book that their religion forbids the imbibing of alcohol. Yet these things have systematically disappeared, each year. Where then does it all go, and what effect does it have? Let’s tackle the effect first then, perhaps, it may lead us to the trail.

    Recently, I saw a post which showed a car on the roof of a house. There it was, shiny red and all, and sitting right pat in the middle of that rusty space more than fifteen feet above the ground. Naturally, it begged the question, ‘how did it get there?’ No one quite knows if this is one of those postings they call ‘Photo trick’ or ‘Photoshop’ or the product of a fevered brain. My own weak brain just told me, this car is sitting on the roof where reason says it should not be.

    Again, I drive, but only barely. I have long admired those who can do close parking in tiny spaces, and park as close to the sidewalk as possible. I admire, I say, because I just cannot execute this marvel. The only thing I can just about manage is to park the car so that the front engine gets out of the way of traffic, but not the back; it refuses to align and insists on jutting out into the traffic, waiting for any willing motorist to thwack its behind!

    I tell you, when I see vehicles parked on narrow ramps in car shows, I am green with envy. I always wonder which genius did the parking. For that reason, I never attempt to drive my car on the mechanic’s pit in garages. I am always afraid that we would have to leave off the matters of the car’s repairs and start looking for the mechanic beneath it. Honestly, my car ineptitude leaves me gasping for food.

    For a long time, I went around holding my head in shame until someone let me into a little secret – and that is that no normal person can achieve those enviable parking feats without a little bit of help from your good old beer or even something a little more stringent. Why that never occurred to me before, I don’t know, but now I think of it, it makes sense. It can only take a beer-addled brain to perform such high-end, needle-precision, neck-breaking, insanely-crazy, moronically clever stunts. Never mind that they may also be geniuses. So, obviously, a genius I am not.

    Honestly, I could appreciate that little hint. I remember me a little story I read a while back. I’m sure I have told you before, but I don’t mind telling you again. It’s always my pleasure to repeat my stories. You’re welcome. Anyway, there was this man so full of beer he thought he could do anything; and he took himself up a tree and climbed that tree in exhilaration till he reached its top at all of its sixty-something feet where he promptly fell asleep. When he woke up next morning, though, he knew he needed another dose of the enabling juice. There was just one problem: he found himself unable to come down. It took the intervention of the fire services to bring him down. I think he fit the moronic end of the description.

    I read somewhere that ‘beer is made by men, wine by Gods’. This is credited to, guess who, Martin Luther. He however was bringing out the reason why men should be wary of its rather potent side-effects for man cannot be trusted. For one thing, it can make one to scale heights or ramps one would not ordinarily attempt. For another, anything made by man is liable to cause an exaggeration of inherent abilities while denigrating inherent inhibitions and values.

    Let’s see what we mean. A man regularly visited a bar every day and ordered three beers, all of which he drank from three different chairs. When the bar man asked him why, he said well, where he was coming from, he regularly met with his brothers for beer in the evening. Since moving into that town alone, he thought he should keep the tradition alive. The different chairs he sat on represented each brother. One day, he came in and asked for only two beers. Had one brother died, the barman wondered? No, said the man; he had given up drinking beer, he said. So, the ones he ordered were for his brothers who had not given it up yet.

    Now that we have disposed of its effects, let us trace where it goes. First, since I am not a drinker, I cannot speak from a first person point of view position. If we had public houses in this part of the world, I could conduct a research by counting how many such each local government hosts. Rather, what we have are popularly called bars which operate, let’s see, informally in the evenings when many weak eyes have closed in temporary sleep. So, there is no way to ascertain its patrons.

    Nevertheless, we can hazard that tonnes of the stuff disappear into the throats of the faceless ones who wait for my vigilant eyes to first drop off in sleep before sneaking around and into those bars. The beautiful rats. Anyway, since the breweries invented canned beer, the story has become very complicated. It is not possible to track drinkers by only the cars parked outside the bars any more. After all, you can’t go around inspecting everyone’s shopping bag. So nope, I don’t know where N600b beer goes among Nigeria’s 160m males and females. Wherever it does go, though, I’m sure it is quite at home.

    What more can we say about the character of beer when you have people going around saying things like, ‘I’ve got 99 problems and beer solves ‘em all’ (Earl Dibbles Jr); while Plato said, ‘he was a wise man who invented beer’. Frank Sinatra was also said to have said, ‘I feel sorry for people who don’t drink (beer). When they wake up in the morning, that’s as good as they’re going to feel all day.’ Ralph Waldo Emerson added that man needs beer to wash off the stains of care.

    We are not celebrating beer today. It’s not up to me to do that. We are merely trying to answer the age-old question of where it all goes. When next the breweries post their after tax profit, perhaps I should just grit my teeth, grasp the edge of the chair to avoid falling over, and end with what Homer Simpson said about beer: ‘… Now, there’s a temporary solution’.

  • That’s what friends are for…

    There are friends whose hand you might want to shake. There are those whose jaws you want to punch. Whichever one, please be sure your meaning is very clear.

    I have drawn some conclusions about Nigerians, but I won’t tell you yet. Suffice it to say that I am surprised at the speed at which their interests change. Indeed, it has appeared that when news of a misdemeanor is broken, there is verbal uproar which lasts for a space of … ten seconds. Then the subject of the uproar changes to something else that may cause… another verbal tumult of five seconds, depending on the severity. Often, that gives way to another scandal which is greeted with a pandemonium which gives way to a verbal stampede… ad infinitum.

    I notice, for instance, that the subject of public discourse moved very rapidly in the last few weeks from herdsmen killers and kidnappers (uproar) through to RUGA settlements (pandemonium) through to ministerial list (grumblings) through to ministerial portfolios (loud talk). Like I said, all the public condemnation, rejection, approbation, disinterest, come-on-do-it-already, interestedness and all took place within days of each other.

    Of course, I do notice that none of these problems have had any permanent solution, in spite of the stampede in the discourses. Indeed, most of them seem to have been pushed under the carpet. That is why our national desks are empty and our nation’s carpet is full.

    Right now, I understand that the screening for the ministerial list is on but my name as usual is not on it. One of these days, those drawing those lists will have to answer that million-naira question: why does my name suddenly become difficult to pronounce when things are being distributed – houses (imagine, is it true that someone has over one hundred houses?), cars (imagine, people have jeep and car farms!), EFCC trouble (imagine, some have many cases and I have none! Oh yes, it is now a status symbol!), ICC trouble, etc. Not that I mind the last two, but come on people, jeep farms?! … It’s a little like your neighbour holding a party and forgetting to invite you.

    Anyhow, I’m wondering if all our ruminations and discourses can solve the problems the ministers will meet on ground. Don’t think so; indeed, they are likely to increase, because we will now have to pay them ministers form our already meagre resources. The last set of ministers did not help me much. There is still little water flowing from my taps and electricity flows into my house for only a few hours in the day, some days. In short, I’m really feeling abandoned…

    Anyway, that is not the subject of our discourse today. Today, we want to talk about friendship, because when the country abandons you, it is only your friends who stay. Let me show you the many times that I feel abandoned. I feel it when I am stopped on the road and harassed by uniformed men for having my papers complete and the president is nowhere to be found to save me from his men! I feel it when my pot is empty and the housekeeping money lies forlorn on my palm not able to get anywhere in the market on account of inflation. I feel abandoned when the children’s mouths are yawning at me threatening to swallow me up since no ‘swallows’ are entering in. I tell you, I feel most abandoned when the electricity bill comes and I find I have been asked to pay for what I have not consumed or water bill asking me to pay for the dry taps. At such times, I moan at the stars, ‘why, O why, Nigeria?’

    That is what friends are for: for you to offload your frustrations on. Everyone needs a friend: individuals, groups, nations, countries, even planets, especially earth. Someone said friends are rare and enemies are many. Maybe, but you know what they say, when you got a lemon, make yourself the sweetest lemonade ever. You got to learn to make the best of whatever friend you got.

    As individuals, we all need to share those ohs and ahs moments with others. When the roses break out in bloom, the baby says his first word or takes his first step in life or in school or in whatever, you want someone to share them with. True, such moments appear to be fewer than the other type; still, when they occur, they come as magic moments that need more than a pair of eyes to record them. They need a friend’s eye to help interpret them. Most of all, when the enemy strikes, it is better to have a friend with one, and just pray that friend does not turn out to be the enemy.

    Groups need all the friends they can get. They need friends for the jolly moments, and to increase and cement those moments. They need friends to prevent them from being proscribed, annihilated, swallowed up and kaboomed. I know my group is in danger of annihilation. Actually I belong to several groups – suffering housewives, neglected teachers, misunderstood writers … should I go on? We’re not counting terrorist ‘people’ though. Those are not groups; they are just a bunch of people in need of deep knowledge. We other groups all need help with the cooker, the chalk and the pen. That last group certainly needs help to make the pen mightier than the AK49.

    Nations and countries like Nigeria need help with their internal matters – promoting their trade, securing their citizens, prospering them and generally increasing their happiness quotient at least, if not their intelligence quotient. No country can stand alone. Just ask America. Presumably the strongest country right now, yet America always makes sure other smaller countries have her back in times of stress such as the gulf war times, war against terror or any war. At such times, such nations call their friends allies. Me, I call my friends, friends.

    To be sure, planet Earth needs friends. Just see what her enemies are doing to her now: depleting the ozone layer, heating her up and generally causing mayhem in her oceans and land. See how people are filling the grounds with other people’s blood … Seriously, earth needs a friend in you and I right now.

    Naturally, just as we have good friends so we also have baaaaaad friends. Some even come in sheep’s clothing, but ultimately, you always know the wolves unless your eyes are closed all the time or you make that friend over Facebook. Don’t get me wrong. Many ‘friendings’ on facebook are good and legitimate. Mine, whenever I have had the few odd few minutes to scroll through Facebook, I have been amazed at the joy people take in showing off their latest clothes and postures and advancements to their friends, i.e., people who have accepted to be their ‘friend’, whether known or unknown. I know I have ‘friends’ there that I have never met. Worse, many a young one have also been deceived and carried away into one real or internet slavery or the other. In other words, not everyone who says he/she is your friend is your friend. You may be better off being the friend of the friend of the friend of the friend of your friend …

    So, we all need friends because they are the people we can ambush at any unholy time to bend over backwards for us. As we celebrate the International Friendship Day on July 30, take time to celebrate all your friends. There are friends whose hand you might want to shake. There are those whose mouths you want to punch. Whichever one, please be sure your meaning is very clear. Hey, if you want to shake my hand as your number one hundredth friend, please don’t let me stop you. Happy friendship day.

  • Can we change the conversation, please?

    To get the pulse of the nation now, you have to listen to national discourses by eavesdropping on street conversations, vendor stands, burial sites, or by reading former President Obasanjo’s letters. Yes, sometimes, you can go to the good old media

    It is a given fact that Nigerians do not as a rule give dinner parties. It is a ‘European thing’, i.e., white man’s ways. You know what dinner parties are, don’t you? They are those times when someone feels so flushed he looks at his pantry, finds that there is just too much game or bush meat and wine, and deigns to ask one or two or three or four of his best friends to devour the lot with him and his spouse. At such repasts, conversations flow as ebulliently as the wine. In short, the stronger the wine is, the stronger the talk. That is when people recount their greatest hunting adventures, scariest moments or their best days to come.

    A long time ago when I was still young, I was invited to such a dinner even though I was not necessarily the host couple’s best friend, only the friend to the friend to the friend of their best friend. Anyway, the relationship was enough for them to include me in their arm-sweep of invitation. I listened in awe as one of the invited guests recounted his adventures and misadventures in the neighbourhood of Harlem, which back then, to hear him talk, sounded more like a city. He made us feel like we were there, facing the guns and knives together. Conversations flowed then around ginger beer for the older and wiser ones and something milder for the unwise ones like me. And, as the wine flowed, the conversations kept their thumb on the pulse of the nations.

    With all the unconscionable killings that have plagued the Nigerian nation in the last thirty years or so, the kind of social life that has a man invite two or three of his friends to dinner has been rather stifled. What has grown however is the bloating of the guest list such that a man would, under the pretext of burying his mother or father or giving out a child in marriage, and invite between two hundred and five hundred people to … err… dinner. That is some guest list, you would say. Naturally, the conversation in such events is highly unpredictable, unprintable and not knowable.

    So, no, Nigerians do not give dinner parties. They also do not go to the cinemas as a national habit. Culture forbids. The whole village would rather gather around the television set. They also do not dress small and live in fine houses. Quite the opposite. Shall I go on?

    To get the pulse on national discourses now, you have to eavesdrop on street conversations, vendor stands, burial sites, or read former President Obasanjo’s letters. Yes, sometimes, you can go to the good old media. Myself, I still prefer the old school style – dinner conversations. At least with that, you get to put some food in your stomach while you listen to your betters talk.

    That is how I know that right now, there is a loud din in the country. Indeed, so many conversations are going on at the same time that I doubt if anyone is really hearing the other. From the din, however, I can abstract that we are still talking about the herdsmen’s settlement problem. Right. Now, that is what I call a national discourse, when nobody knows what everybody is talking about and someone believes that everyone else knows but him or her.

    I also gather that we are talking about the death of the daughter of the chief of Afenifere. From the discourse, blames are flying here and there and no one has been able to correctly point at the perpetrator. People are using words very guardedly, and so should I. I sincerely pray for comfort for the family of the bereaved and God’s guidance for them all. I also hope that the killer(s) would quickly and correctly be identified.

    From the din, I see that a kind of recall back home has been issued to herdsmen who have migrated to the south. In other words, they have been asked to leave the south and return to graze their cattle nearer home. Well, honestly, I see this as someone taking a step further than my joking last week about acquiring one of those AK47 that herdsmen are said to be going around with.

    Now, when ‘come home’ orders are issued, it can be for several reasons. It can be because one knows that continuing a course of action can lead to results that have not been planned for. For instance, I recall an incidence in my youth when the recall order was given to an uncle of mine to come back home when it appeared his studies were not progressing as well as his social antics. I know many ‘come home’ orders given to children who went to school to study but were soon known to have veered off studying and gone into unmentionable businesses. I also know another instance… but naaah, I wouldn’t want you to remember all those ‘come home urgently’ by the wifey to kill some invading cockroaches. Let us draw a modest veil over those.

    Anyway, back to our ‘come home’ order from the north and what it means. Honestly, I don’t know what it means. I do know though that Nigeria has emphasised this unnatural syndrome that is against modern living and civilisation, and that is statism. Normally, anyone should be able to live in any part of the country and do his business to the uttermost productivity level s/he’s capable of but not in Nigeria. On that account, Nigerians have worked themselves into a frenzy over others living in their state to do business and have come against them with several means: stagnation, job denial and sometimes even death. That’s right, the politicians did this to us.

    Unfortunately, the suspicion deepens when people are victimised, and the country hardly hears of anyone being arraigned for such crimes such as beheadings and shootings. The law has nearly always been silent even when people know what went down. Naturally, the heightening of suspicion makes people more state- and ethnicity-conscious.

    If anyone lives anywhere, they need to know they are safe. This is what is getting scarcer and scarcer in this country. The herdsmen have been fingered in many instances of kidnapping and even shooting. The least the law could have done was to investigate even if only to debunk that view and put people’s minds at rest. To blithely believe and claim that no particular tribe is responsible is really responding politically and emotionally not with the facts. Indeed, such claims put facts before the truth, as someone said recently.

    We are in the age of science, the birth node of technology. How Nigeria can persist in living in the dark ages in the way it views and does things really beats me and leaves me dumber than I know I am naturally. One of the uses of science is actually to solve such problems as nature deems fit to dump on us. I therefore find it difficult to understand why Nigeria refuses to take advantage of these science-based solutions to some of our problems – in the law, weather, public service, etc. – so that people’s sufferings may be reduced.

    It is time to let Nigeria move forward so that our conversations can change from perverse rumours to truthful facts. All the attempts of our politicians so far in every way appear to have been to keep the country in this unnatural darkness so that people cannot pursue their dreams. Darkness cannot persist forever, however. Whether we like it or not, Nigeria will move forward, with us or without us.

  • When the government should be worried

    Innovative thinking has been absent from the leadership style of Nigerian governments. This has created and perpetuated a visionless leadership in the country’s affairs since independence.

    Recently, I got a post showing a country unveiling its new train, which they claimed was the fastest in the world. I also saw the same country unveil what it called the longest bridge in the world. I looked at the pictures wistfully, wondering when Nigeria would unveil ‘something best’ in the world other than corruption or killing. Many modern and gladsome breakthroughs are going on in saner climes without us …

    Rather, what is going on in my insane clime is worrisome. I received a post on the social media in which a community leader got up at a cross-tribal meeting and declared that the incursion of Fulani herdsmen into his community was causing too many deaths. What was worse, he noticed that they were armed to the teeth with AK47s which they were using to carry out the many kidnapping incidents reported in his area, yet no one was holding them accountable. Could anyone therefore help him and his community procure their own AK47s please?

    Honestly, I was shocked. Not that I receive my news from the social media. No, not by a long shot. For news, I go to the news organs. However, the idea that that particular post had crossed many hands, or phones if you like, before getting to mine sincerely had me frightened. Something is clear from all the goings-on: someone is deliberately trying to set Nigeria on fire and the presidency is not worried. That is what has had me worried!

    There are many things about the current happenings that have really befuddled those of us who are not too bright in the head. First of all, in the last twenty-four months, this country has witnessed many herdsmen/farmers clashes with high fatalities usually on the farmers’ side. Yet, despite all the hues and cries, not one of the assaulting group has been arrested or prosecuted. Whenever the public has complained about the activities of herdsmen, for instance, the presidency has gone into pyrogenic dances of words producing heated, unbelievable excuses that beg the question and beggar belief all at once.

    Clearly, there have been many disappointments all around but the most for me has been with the president of the country. When he was sick, we prayed for him and waited for him to return and handle the affairs of this state with his customary firmness. Alas, that well-known firm hand appears to have been washed too many times in softening shampoos. The president’s hand has gone unaccustomedly soft. And I know it did not come from the hand lotion I use.

    Rather than deal firmly with the phenomenon when it first broke, the presidency gave every excuse in the book except the right one. First the excuse of desertification came, followed by the failure of the media to situate the events in their proper context. For the correct information, the people were left to guess and read between the lines, or president’s lips if you like. The people therefore guessed wrongly or rightly that there was a covert government-supported attempt by the Fulani to take over the country. It is so bad now there is a post of a Nigerian international passport page bearing a Fulani herdsman standing with his cows, rather than of me in the classroom with my students! Imagine that!

    Unfortunately, the president has not helped matters by keeping mum over his intentions. Rather, he has left the public to interpret his actions and pronouncements, and I tell you this in confidence, their conclusions are not good. Take the RUGA thing for instance. Many people have seen it as not only an attempt to steal people’s land but actually to plant the Fulani in those communities for a future politico-religious take-over. They are probably correct, I don’t know, but I see it as an outright, bare-knuckle and bare-faced robbery on the government’s part, if the government is indeed behind it. If the government is behind it, then the government is wrong. It is as simple as that.

    Three facts cannot be ignored. One is that there is desertification in the north, particularly the routes covered traditionally by Fulani herdsmen. This desertification did not start in a day. It started many years back, when there was time enough to arrest it if there had been sufficient political will and vision. True, you might argue that it might have resulted from the global warming effect, and I would argue that many countries are also affected but their governments have not asked those affected to move and then arm them against their host communities. That would be a lazy, thoughtless solution that negates modern innovative thinking.

    Two is the fact that the governments in the north appear not to have taken the matter too seriously and have approached it the way governance has typically been done in Nigeria: swallow the money and let the people find their way like blind men. Innovative thinking has been absent from the leadership style of Nigerian governments. This has created and perpetuated a visionless leadership in the country’s affairs since independence. We have not been able to pull ourselves out of that mould of ad-hoc and lazy solutions to problems. No one, for instance, is asking, what happens when desertification strikes those places where the government wants the herdsmen to run to? Will everyone now run into the lagoon?

    The number three fact is that there now appears to be, according to reports, a coalition of herdsmen from surrounding countries who are taking advantage of the fact that the president of the country is friendly. The government, however, cannot will out other people’s lands to others who come from God-knows-where, no matter how well-meaning it is. Governmentally doling out other people’s lands for others to occupy, whether or not they are of the president’s own ethnic group, is no longer feasible in this twenty-first century. To give out any land freely, the government has to grow its own land, either in space or in the sea, certainly not on the land which genealogies have owned for centuries even before Nigeria became Nigeria.

    Goat, sheep or cow herding is an economic activity like any other such as trading, doctoring, etc. Until now, I have not heard of any trades group or crafts group that were allocated land by the government free of charge to practice their trade or craft. I am not aware of any instance even if it has been done. To my knowledge, most people have had to purchase what land they have needed from each other in personal transactions. The government has almost always only been invited to witness the transaction through its agencies with one eye. People should buy the land they need.

    Besides, having encouraged herdsmen to kill and kidnap, would they automatically be cured of killing by the RUGA thing? Most often not. When people taste blood, they do not forget it easily. Herdsmen have tasted blood and have not been prosecuted for murder or kidnapping. I honestly do not expect that to end.

    Many countries have developed home-grown solutions to their problems. Adopting the line of least resistance to the desertification problem is the most uninventive, unimaginative, uncreative and original (please stop me) way to go. We need to be more original.

    The government should concentrate on stopping who is arming the herdsmen for sinister purposes or I’ll begin to seriously think about getting my own AK48, and then get a herdsman to teach me how to use it. Seriously, there are better ways of solving this problem other than letting the people loose pointing AK47s or AK48s at each other. When groups begin to demand their own AK47s, the government should be very, very worried about the potential conflagration.

  • Of popularity, notoriety and renown

    We all therefore seem to have forgotten that loots do not make a man. They make a man a common thief, less than the soil underneath an honest labourer’s slippers.

    The more I write these few lines for you each week, dear reader, the more I have found that the popularity ratings of the column have grown. Not because the lines are good (if you say so, I don’t mind though) but because they are insistent on being heard. I thank you indeed for tolerating me the way you tolerate a mosquito. If you pretend long enough that it isn’t there, it might actually go away. So I find that many read me to get me out of their way and promptly settle down to ignore me. That is how the column has earned its popularity.

    Notoriety though I find comes mostly through politics. No, I don’t hate politics. I just don’t consider myself as one who is politically conscious, more like a political somnambulant. Half of the time, I have no idea how many states in Nigeria have governors. Heck, half of the time I have no idea who indeed is the governor of which state. The other day, I heard that someone called Gov. XYZ had been removed as governor of a state in Nigeria by a tribunal. Who, I asked, is that? Which State is he governing? Someone said he was a governor. Yes, I read that, I replied, but who the heck is he? Everyone looked at me like I had lost it. The economy has finally got to her; they thought; a governor is someone everyone should know. And I went away thinking, how do they know all these governors when they seem to change every minute?

    The problem, I reasoned, is that many of my fellow citizens do not set out in life to be anything more than notorious. The Nigerian seems to have one credo: make some noise and people know you are there. Then, what happens? Oh, before you know it, you become the governor of a state, a Representative, a Senator, a principal, a…. On what platform? The platform of noisemaking! But what has he achieved?

    So, there you are, I do not know politics, just like I do not know maths. Why, the other day, someone gave me a poser that sounded like one of those Satan uses to determine who goes to hell with him. The test was that if someone were to offer to buy a goat for the sum of N2, 000.00 and the seller agreed to the price and the buyer brought out the money to pay for the goat but the goat leapt up and snatched the money and ate it, then how much had the goat become and who then owned it – buyer or seller? For reply, I made only one gesture: Cuckoo! Why should I give him the privilege to know I did not know maths, I reasoned?!

    So, you can imagine my horror when I heard yesterday that a senator had been taken to another court. I was really horrified. Please, I begged, don’t tell me I did not know that the senator was in one court in the first place. The fellow looked at me like I had mutated to some unrecognisable being. This is his second court and who knows how many more courts before he is through with us, I was told. I sat down in great misery and deep mystery: where had I been all my life?

    Seriously, reader, you can’t blame me. I have been too busy searching for the truth such as where all of Nigeria’s money had got to. First, I was reading that some two point something billion dollars had been shared among a few Nigerians who happened to belong to a political party. Naturally, that confabulated the few facts in my head. Then I began to hear through confessions how the money was disbursed to various agents of the party; and the offers some of them made to return it, either through coercion or remorse. Naturally, I wiped my face some more trying to imagine which bank would contain enough storage space to receive these vast sums when they are converted to our very worthy naira.

    That was when I began to hear stories of how a few top people in one of the armed forces had somehow contrived to convert hundreds of billions of naira, meant for the upkeep of their own arm of the armed forces, to their own personal use. As I was told, they went as far as constructing an underground pit or latrine or soak-away (the story is not very straight around this corner) in the house of a member to keep some of the monies while some nestled comfortably in the accounts of the wife of another. As these revelations were coming out, you can imagine that my face wiping grew to alarming proportions. I found I had begun to wash my face more frequently than Pilate did his hands. I also wanted to see if the water would tell me why my fellow citizens would persist in settling only for notoriety when they could go for renown.

    One group of people that gets notoriety for renown is known as writers, the truth seekers. This is why we are celebrating them this week. I know they also do not work for renown but are happy to bask in it when it comes. Most of the time, they are just content to smile broadly when they succeed in getting close to the truth.

    There are many reasons why they do not get that renown. Their messages are often unpalatable to the society; they mirror the society back to it; they reflect for the society the consequences of their heady ways, etc. Truth is, in writing, the writer keeps the truth pristine and unalloyed. Who gives renown to anyone for telling the truth?

    Most Nigerians are rather interested in scrambling for loots. We all therefore seem to have forgotten that loots do not make a man. They make a man a common thief, less than the soil underneath an honest labourer’s slippers. We have said it again and again on this column that what makes a man is not the number of houses he owns (whether honestly acquired or not), or the number of private jets he owns (acquired properly or not), or the number of women or men they are able to sleep with (acquired legally or not).

    True, you have heard many people preach again and again that you cannot take it with you. Well, I’m here to tell you something different. You can take it with you. The only thing is that what you have here gets converted to a different currency when you die. The man who has worked only at stealing from the country may get to enjoy his loot here but when he dies, the loot gets converted into his infamous name which will become synonymous with notoriety. The man who works at actually achieving something may or may not enjoy his proceeds on earth; but when he dies his good name gets converted also into something akin to renown.

    What matters most in this world is what we do for a living, how well we do it and what we are able to achieve something good through it, no matter how little or how big. Achieving something through one’s efforts is a greater success than any amount of money that one can steal. It not only brings out the truly noble thing in one’s character, it enables a man to touch the lower tip of the universe. That man/woman is able to reach beyond himself, conquer his lowest instincts and celebrate The Truth. That man/woman is the writer. Here’s raising a toast: To all writers!

     

    • This article was first published on 15thJuly, 2018 to celebrate Writers’ Day.

  • Here’s to all Fathers

    Many unsuccessful fathers are today ruling the world, and only one deduction can come from that: it’s no wonder the world is in this sorry state

    My salute to all fathers today is a little belated, considering that Fathers’ Day was celebrated the third week of last month, but as I always say, better late than never. Besides, you know the kind of present that I value most? It’s the kind that comes unexpectedly, is late, and is very expensive. Ah! great is the quality of the surprise that brings. Now, onto our story.

    To many children, the father is the breadwinner of the family. He just seems to represent that part of the family tree where money seems to spring from. This is why it is difficult for children to believe that money does not grow on trees. When children need to buy a loaf of bread, the mother goes, ‘go ask daddy’; when they need to buy school uniforms, ‘go ask daddy’; when the family needs a car, ‘we’ll ask daddy’; when the family needs a jet, who else can we ask? Happily, the story is changing these days. Now, it is possible to ask mummy for money for bread too but we’ll talk about this some other day.

    Fathers also represent safety. Oh, there is no measuring the great amount of comfort a child gets when he/she knows daddy is near, particularly in a thunderstorm, or in the face of external threats, or in the face of internal threats such as mummy. You would not believe just how much children rely on those muscles. A father said he had to take his son to the hospital for one ailment or the other. When the doctors took the son over and started pricking and jabbing him to draw blood for testing, the son felt very let down that the father did not rescue him from the ‘wicked doctors’ with those strong muscles of his.

    Sometimes, those muscles are used to instil discipline via the cane, and that is when things take unnatural turns and confusions set in. A father recounted how his child looked at him with horror when he had to apply corporal punishment. He said he might as well have brought out the knife.

    If we were to ask young children what their fathers represent to them, many of them would surprise us. They would talk about the words associated with their fathers, mannerisms they best remember about them, the names they call them, but more importantly, the image they represent in the house. I read in one book that a child said they called their father ‘Moses’ in their house because every morning, he called the family together and gave them the ‘ten commandments’ for the day. So, when they saw him coming, they would go ‘Here comes Moses with the tablet of stone’, and he would go, ‘If I ever see you playing with my comb again …’ Another child said they called their father ‘General X, Supreme Commander’ because he was fond of barking his commands at them: GET OUT OF THAT CHAIR! GET OUT OF MY ROOM! GO AND BUY ME AN ENVELOPE! All too often, the children quaked and shook uncontrollably at the sound of his voice. Another child said their father was God. He was too fond of saying, ‘Listen, I made you and I can unmake you. You came from inside my body and you can pretty well go back in there.’ Such sweet daddies, these, no?

    Truth is, fathers stand for many frightening things to their children, all too often because those fathers inherited the genes of fright from their own fathers who got them from their fathers who got them from their own fathers, ad infinitum. At the sound of a father’s voice, the child goes into throes of terror and the father goes away thinking ‘Yeah, that’s how to stay in control of the ship: tolerate no dissension from the ranks’. Want to know the truth? Most children tend to see their fathers as being capable of eating them up if they do not do as they are told. That voice is just too scaaaaaary!

    I best remember my father for many things: provisions, a bank account that just never seemed to flow too well in my direction, and THE LOOK. My father rarely applied the cane on us children but he generously applied THE LOOK. THE LOOK was the eye of steel which spelt only one thing: disapproval. Most times, that was all it took for us to want to sink beneath ground level and just disappear from the face of the earth. You took what did not belong to you, you got THE LOOK; you said what you were not supposed to say, you got THE LOOK; you did what you were not supposed to do such as failing your exams, you got that soul, spirit and body crushing LOOK that wordlessly said, ‘Consider yourself slapped and maimed for that thoughtless action’. That look, I must confess, has saved me from many a scrape and has kept me well towed and reigned in. True, I have got into other scrapes in spite of it, but who knows, there might have been more without it. Even now that he is dead and gone, THE LOOK still lives on. Viva la LOOK!

    So, where would we be without our big, bad wolf fathers, particularly since they rule the world?! Oh yes, your world, nations and states’ rulers are all fathers, I think. Let’s face it, some among them are not very successful fathers at home, since sometimes, children sort of develop immunity against the voices, muscles and looks, and just go their own merry ways. Sometimes, though, it’s the fathers who fail to apply the voice, muscle and look and choose to go their own merry way, preferring to give their talents to the nation or the world or alcohol or partying while the mother rules the home. When one woman and her daughter heard that the head of their home had been appointed into a government post, they both laughed. He had no clout to command at home. Many unsuccessful fathers are today ruling the world, and only one deduction can come from that: it is no wonder the world is in this sorry state.

    There are many homes which have no fathers for one reason or the other: death, divorce or desertion and it is clear in such instances that their places and shoes are empty. This is because nature has designed that they should be there. Where mothers are absent, their places and shoes would also be empty because nature has so designed that they also should be there. Natural creation of complementarities has stipulated roles for each divide. Fathers are the last bastion of discipline: ‘Junior, if you don’t drop that knife, your father will visit you this evening with the belt’ produces instant compliance. In the same way, mothers are the last bastion of love: ‘Junior, try and understand your daddy, he means well; now come and take a slice of bread’.

    No doubt, fathers mean well for us, in spite of their ways. That is the way nature designed them to be: furious, angry, whirlwinds; we would like to take them just as they are if they remember that homes are supposed to be havens of rest not hotspots of war; wives are to be loved, not flung across the room like balls and children are to be assisted to grow up to be what they want to be, not forced into prepared jackets that fit the father’s ambition. All the world cannot be my red shoes. So, here’s a toast to all fathers: may your days be long, your cups be full, your voices stay strong and your LOOKS remain compelling. VIVA THATA LOOKA!

    • This tribute to fatherhood was first published on 8thJuly, 2013.

  • Let’s make music together!

    Surely, we can tap from the medicinal powers of music as individuals and more especially as a nation. If music can unify the world, then surely, this nation with more differences than the United Nations can build a national consciousness around its musical heritage which is rich, massive and oh, so beautiful.

    Let’s make music together…! No, no; that’s not an invitation. Oh dear, what am I saying? That is an invitation, but you’ll understand it by and by. The line is from a cartoon movie, All Dogs Go to Heaven. Have I told you I love cartoons? I’m not sure but I think that is why people call me The Cartoon Lady. That may also have to do with my looks: I have these exaggerated features that make me think I can easily spare some for people, just like in the cartoons. There’s the small, pert nose; no, can’t spare that; there’s the big mouth. Oh yes, I can definitely spare some of it; perhaps, I’ll get into less trouble.

    Do you know what they say about people with big mouths? They can sing! Well, clearly, I am living proof that is not true at all, for, believe it or not, I cannot carry a tune in a bucket, even in a shower. Take the shower saga. It is said that everyone, and I mean everyone, can sing in the shower, but not me! When I attempt to sing in the shower, the windows mist over, the flowing showers curdle and the dog begins to bark. Mysteriously, everything returns to normal when I stop. I can never fathom the relationship between these occurrences and my singing. Jealousy?

    Read Also: Firm develops talent hunt App, unveils music contest

    Anyway, the world celebrated the World Music Day on June 21 and I could not help going down memory lane to rake up favourites. You know what music is, don’t you? It’s that piece of sound that people make to interrupt the flow of air around your ears and keep you from enjoying your much earned siesta because it makes you tap your feet to time, then wriggle, then jiggle, then dance! Viva la dance!

    Some people call music noise; others call it nuisance. You and I, because we are the professionals and amateurs that we are, know that it is called music. That is why I can talk about some pieces of music that have held me spell-bound over the years, and made me wish that I had, at the least, a shower voice. First though, I went on the internet to find out if there is such a thing as the greatest music in the world and whether it is on my list. Oh yes, I have my own list.

    Well, I got many interesting finds. I found many compilations by different individuals and groups and I was much perplexed that my own list of the all-time greatest was not there. Anyway, very few of the pieces on many of the compilations were in agreement. Most were as different from each other as were their compilers.

    It then struck me that music is indeed in the ears of the beholder. Or is it beauty that is in the eye now? Never mind. It gave me great comfort indeed, knowing that I was allowed to have a different list from yours. The important thing is that on every June 21, you and I are encouraged to drop all our worries, and join in the street celebrations of pure music! Viva la Musick!

    True, pure music is difficult to define. When you listen to your Fuji kings, Juju maestros, or even high life music masters, and swing to your reggae crooners, I’m sure you’re not able to sit still. Now, bring in your Apala and Waka experts and I’ll bet you have yodelled the lyrics alongside them with as much abandon as a tree owl. Wait a while. Now, if you have ever attended the operas, at home and abroad, you would have been exposed to The Voices.

    Don’t get me wrong; all singers have their voices. However, it’s in the operas that you have to sit still for you must not dance. You simply salute The Voice as the singer hits those high-end operatic notes that have your limbs trembling and leave your body hairs standing. There is a reason for this phenomenon: in an opera scene, it is said that when someone is shot, instead of dying, he must sing!

    With the right instrumentation, music obviously transports the musician and the listener to heights greater than the showers and past the bullets. According to experts, music is the world’s language. Where verbal language has dispersed the world, music has brought everyone together. Everyone alike taps to the rhythms of The Beatles’ music as readily as they do to Fela’s music. This is why many names on those compilation lists I told you about earlier contain songs that have crossed many seas.

    Hear more experts on music. ‘Without music, life would be a mistake,’ was said by Friedrich Nietzsche. He further said, ‘We should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once.’ Beethoven said ‘Music is … a higher revelation than all Wisdom and Philosophy.’ Goethe advised that ‘A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture   every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.’ Finally, ‘Music can change the world because it can change people,’ said Bono.

    To be honest though, there are many music pieces I just don’t get. No, I am not just talking about the off-colour ones. I’m talking about those ones, especially Nigerian, that sound more like electronic noises. Not, unexpectedly, very many of such fritter out almost as soon as they are born. The real music, those ones we are celebrating today, are the ones that have lastability. They are the ones that my grandchildren will see me wriggling uncontrollably to and will sigh with understanding patience: ‘they’re playing grandma’s song again.’

    The history of my foray into music has not been smooth. The showers won’t have my yodelling voice. My attempts on the keyboard resembled jabs, so it clammed up on me. My guitar strings broke and the drums burst. So for now, I have restricted myself to springing around like a mountain goat and shouting ‘Nike, Nike…’ which is all I know of this my all-time greatest Nigerian song.

    Read Also: ‘I could have been an astronaut, musician’

    Surely, we can tap from the medicinal powers of music as individuals and more especially as a nation. If music can unify the world, then surely, this nation with more differences than the United Nations can build a national consciousness around its musical heritage which is rich, massive and oh, so beautiful. What with all the Fela (my own all-time greatest artist), Ayinde, Osadebe, Maraya, etc., we have enough materials to help us understand our purpose and life as a nation better. These powerful philosophers with a combined force greater than all the AK47s can teach us a thing or two about how to run our politics, economy, and national life. This year’s celebration theme, ‘Music at the Intersections’, should help to cement together the gaps between languages, the ages and most definitely the government and me.

    It has also been said that music heals. Clearly, you and I and our nation need healing, beginning with our souls and bodies. We can let the soothing notes wash over us and cleanse the putrefying sores that have ravaged this national body. When we abandon ourselves to the powers and influence of music, we can change our present Frankenstein beings into something close to the humanity our maker originally planned for us to be. Good music elevates from sickness to health and sorrow to hope. That is the only thing that can change many Nigerians’ greatest tune from ‘You don get alert o, God win’, to something like ‘One love…’ Now, Let’s sing in perfect harmony…

  • June 12, sociopaths, and the many plagues of Nigeria

    The problem is that everything revolves around good governance, and we are still waiting for it. Good governance interrupts evil instincts and directs us all to what is good for the sake of everyone. It insists that everyone tempers his/her sociopathic tendencies with something closely resembling good sense.

    The annulled June 12, 1993 election stands for many things to many people. To some people, the date is all about M.K.O. Abiola’s unrealised mandate. To others, the date is a reminder of loved ones lost and gone: the ones who died when news of Abiola’s win was being relayed, the ones who died when the tanks were rolled out on the streets in the protests that followed the annulment, and the ones who died when the resulting upheaval necessitated some travelling to ‘exodus back home’.

    To the surviving relatives of all these departed ones, that date will continually bring sad memories. To many of us ‘others’, it stands as a continual beckon of ever receding hope, still there, still being chased but getting ever fainter and fainter. That fading light is no other than that Nigerians can manage to agree on something when they put their minds to it. That something could of course be an election candidate (like Abiola), a pet peeve (politicians), a favourite pass time (food), or a ‘national’ dish (pounded yam I think).

    The trouble is that we have failed to move from the point at which June 12 met us. At that point, we were wondering who we were as a people, either just odious or plain ogres. Then, we killed and maimed each other recklessly in the name of God, and we starved ourselves of needed development for ethnic. Life after that point has been no better; we are still wandering around our national sub consciousness as the Israelites of yore wandered over Palestine, only now without their shame and repentance. We are still killing and maiming each other, and still starving ourselves of much needed developments; the only reason for that now is that we have collectively adopted the psychology of sociopaths.

    A sociopath, says my dictionary, is a person with an antisocial personality disorder, exhibiting antisocial behaviour that usually is the result of social and environmental factors in the person’s early life. The only common factor I see in the early life of us Nigerians is this high level of ignorance mixed with a little bit of poverty. However, I don’t think poverty has much to do with the monumental waste by people in positions of authority that we are witnessing in Nigeria today; I think it’s all that very, very toxic ignorance that got mixed into our corn cereal when we were young. It has made us all sociopathic.

    That’s right; the nation has been seized by many sociopathic plagues, as they did Pharaoh’s Egypt. Shall I name them, or have you been reading the handwriting on the wall too? For exercise, oh do let me; I promise to make it more fun. Our first plague is the government that perpetually oscillates between somnambulism and somniloquism. It jerks its knees only when you hit it with a patella of criticism. Seriously, I know my medical subject, thank you very much.

    The problem is that everything revolves around good governance, and we are still waiting for it. Good governance interrupts evil instincts and directs us all to what is good for the sake of everyone. It insists that everyone tempers his/her sociopathic tendencies with something closely resembling good sense. Rather than slap my neighbour with a law suit for leaving his tree branches to shed leaves into my compound, therefore, I learn to grin, bear it and plant my own tree near the wall.

    When I find that the driver of the car in front of me has stopped to hold a meeting with his long lost friend coming in the opposite direction, I don’t ‘accidentally’ run into the said car from behind. If I do, I’m only giving way to my sociopathic tendencies. Instead, the government should help me to be able to point him to a law that says I deserve to get home early too after a hard day’s work without anyone stopping in front of me to talk about their village. So, please help us government to help ourselves because sociopathic tendencies have got us something terrible.

    The second plague is that this country is peopled with ‘brains’ who have absolutely no inkling of what it means to be real human beings. That includes me of course. Just the other day, I heard the story of how an Okada man hit a taxi and, rather than apologise, hid his fault behind the support of his fellow Okada riders who one by one stopped by to lend a hand in the quarrel. The union support was so much that another Okada rider was said to have pulled up on the opposite side of the road, jumped across and slapped the taxi driver before asking what happened. We have become that lawless.

    Can you also tell me why else someone would take a look at his parent’s house and set fire to it because his parents refused to give him a certain amount of money? Or, how can one explain why an individual would spend his section’s entire subvention on a car for a girlfriend? Yesterday, I heard a new one. A man, someone said, would even go so far as to buy an air-conditioned car for his girlfriend while he and his family would use a non-air-conditioned one. Now, I have heard the common saying that people give out only what they have but surely this is loving one’s neighbour more than oneself when you give out what you don’t have!

    My third plague? Take the banditry story. Now, that is a plague that no one has explained to me to my satisfaction. From all reports from the official media, social media, radio rumour, word of mouth, etc., there are bandits everywhere, on roads, in forests, just name it, waiting to do what, I don’t know. Yet, no one has told me where they come from, how they got in here, and what the heck they want the whole blue sky for.

    Shall I go on with them plagues? Try the (un)civil service… the (a)public service… teachers… students… politicians… Niger Delta… boko haram… and… Oh, what’s the use; it will just be one plague after another and we will be no wiser at the end of the day, like Pharaoh. We are in dire straits then, caught between the absence of good governance, and those plaguing plagues. A shucks to them things!

    Many of us have carried on as if this fourth republic democracy is built on the blood and sweat of June 12, and so it is. Actually, to claim otherwise would be hypocritical, and we get enough of that from our pastors and Imams and other religious pundits, thank you. Let us wise up. We can also give kudos to the government for declaring the day a national holiday. That’s a start, I guess.

    We need more than a national holiday. One would have thought such monumental losses of human resources as happened around the June 12 matter would sort of knock some sense into us and bring us, at least, to the edge of self-realisation instead of down this labyrinthine path of self-interest and self-gratification. Self-realisation as a people is the only way we can define who we are as a nation, a people and a kind. Hopefully, it would also assist us to determine our goals, purposes and place amidst this troubled brood of sociopaths currently peopling this world.

     

    • Sadly, this article, first published on 17thJune, 2013, is still relevant today.

     

  • That report by The Economist

    Nigerians as a people have been hard done by… what bad roads have not taken, tribal and religious intolerance have taken out of their lives; what tribal and religious intolerance have not taken, disease has taken; what disease has not taken, hunger has taken; what hunger has not taken, insurgence is after; what insurgence cannot get, the herdsmen want to get. I’m just wondering, how much more can we the people take?

    There are so many stories vying for us readers’ attention these days. For instance, there is the British Prime Minister’s resignation story, and all its attendant pathos; and there is the alarm raised by former President Obasanjo on what has been called the ‘fulanisation’ agenda of this country by this present government. I guess I will add my own comments to that one when I fully understand what that word means. Then, there is still the sorry state of our security in this country which appears to defy any efforts by the government… There is also the sorry state of our economy…

    I don’t know about you, but I must confess I was not shocked to read the report by The Economist news magazine that the economic fortunes of Nigerians had nosedived in the last few years. That report beggars no disbelief. I do not belong to any political party; I do not carry any party’s card, so I am not speaking for any politician or party. I am speaking only for the churnings in my stomach which are fast turning political and ideological (the hunger pangs now want to carry placards!), and the stomachs of all who are watchers of this government hoping it would get round to doing something about them churnings.

    I must say right off that Nigerians as a people have been hard done by. Every single government since independence has taken the people’s docility for granted. Even when the few infrastructures began to be withdrawn a little at a time, Nigerians remained mute. Even now when there is hardly any government presence in the people’s lives, it is still silence. People have simply gone about providing their own water, electricity, shelter, food, roads, children… You name it, they opened not their mouths.

    Clearly, the intervention which the people had hoped would come to give them relief from these government-imposed deprivations has obviously been long in coming, like Nigerian Railways. I remember in those days when I was little and the trains used to run. People could find themselves waiting for the train for days at the stations. And that went on until rail transport petered out into a dignified silence altogether. The same has happened to the expected relief: veeeeery loooooong in coming, and at this rate, if at all. Yet, the people still hang on.

    All hopes that this relief would come through the Buhari administration appear to be now fizzling into smoke with this report, which is a confirmation of the very obvious. Too many Nigerian families have been reduced to nothingness; i.e., less than nothing. They have not been able to feed consistently, reasonably well. Worse, it appears that what is left of their lives have been handed over to herdsmen marauders. So, what bad roads have not taken, tribal and religious intolerance have taken out of Nigerians’ lives; what tribal and religious intolerance have not taken, disease has taken; what disease has not taken, hunger has taken; what hunger has not taken, insurgence is after; what insurgence cannot get, the herdsmen want to get. I’m just wondering, how much more can we the people take?

    Unfortunately, there seems to be so much silence from the people because of all this focus on the things that divide rather than unite them. No doubt, Nigerians are divided by their religions and tribes and languages and food and dances. The people are divided by their respective views of the world emanating from all of these things. Conversely, though, they are united by a lot more. There is first their humanity; people are all joined by this common humanity, which is the most important thing. Then there is the fact that all of us in Nigeria are joined by our sufferings at the hands of our uncaring governments. All of us are joined as victims, yet we keep smiling, instead of crying out. Fela has got us pat down to a T.

    So, we all need to take that report by The Economist as a wake-up call to shape up in our socioeconomic programmes. No, there is no shipping out. If we don’t, such reports will continue to be produced as long as villages are being pillaged, reducing manpower and endangering productivity. They will continue as long as senators and assemblymen and women continue to receive atrociously unbelievable allowances at the detriment of socioeconomic programmes. That is why many of them don’t even know what to do with their money again. I hear Mr. Dino Melaye, for instance, has many exotic cars numbered Dino 1, Dino 2, etc. No, I don’t want any of them cars; I’m just saying. Here we are, with all these cars, and we living in a country where many cannot eat well. Mm! I hear another senator uses a N40 million watch; and that he once bought a N30 million car for a girlfriend. I ask you! I tell you, these reports will continue as long as these contradictions persist.

    To reverse these unsavoury and uncomplimentary narratives, however, the government should seriously commit to giving good governance. Not many beneficial social structures are on ground yet to alleviate poverty or relieve the people’s economic burdens. This ruling party talks about next level in its programmes. Well, bad news: most of the citizens are not on any level even, let alone being on the next. Electricity is still as good as dead in most parts of the country, i.e., where it exists. The people are still providing their own water in very excruciatingly painful ways too. Food is fast becoming rare on the table, even as herdsmen are busy supplanting themselves in farmers’ villages after slaughtering the farmers. And the government says nothing. That silence is just evil.

    For the international community to have sufficient confidence and place their investments in this country, it is also very important for the country to pay attention to the security situation. A situation where we have herdsmen or foreigners from the West African sub-region being rumoured to be hiding in forests, raping and killing people rampantly is enough to discourage anyone. Confidence cannot be built when reports are bad.

    Quite apart from all that, if we have said it once, we have said it a thousand times: there can be no meaningful development without giving some deliberate attention to the industries. The reason is that it is only the industries that can employ people in large numbers and reduce the unemployment figures to a more tolerable one. More importantly, it is industries that can use the vast human resources this country is blessed with for the furtherance of developmental efforts and initiate innovative products that can revolutionalise living in this hot, hot Africa.

    For the industries to function maximally, there must be a next level improvement in the delivery of infrastructures, top of which is electricity and water. Most industries spend precious time and resources sourcing for these at the expense of superior productivity and manpower employment. Every watt of privately sourced electricity supplants the wage of someone who could have been gainfully employed.

    That report from The Economist has not really said anything new or that people don’t know or experience already. That is probably why it would hardly attract any railing. We all know that the economy needs real, serious attention. I plead that the government makes this its focus in the next four years so that the reports may change.

  • Death by Suicide

    The government must recalibrate the economy in such a way that the factories will run again. Otherwise, the work force that we are training today and not using in these graduates will certainly explode someday.

    Whenever I have had the time, I have tried to update my record on movie watching. That is postscript-speake for I like to watch movies. This means essentially, I watch people who have been paid tonnes of money to act roles for my viewing pleasure. I agree it’s not fair; someday, I shall be paid too for watching. In the meantime, I have come to learn many terms such as death by natural causes, manslaughter, murder or suicide. Before I went into the movie industry (as a watcher, I promise you!), I thought death was death.

    The courts think differently, because they have varying degrees of sentences for each category. The only category they don’t have a sentence for is death by suicide. Obviously, the criminal preempts the courts by cleverly removing himself or herself from the loving arms of Lady Justice. You know her, don’t you? She is that blindfolded lady that has her arms permanently spread out to give you a hug when you commit a crime that will land you in Kirikiri. She holds a sword and a pair of scales; the scales are for measuring your crime, the sword is for cutting off the pound of flesh to atone. Grrrrr!

    Yes, dear reader, there are so many topics begging for attention this week, but none of them concerns me more right now than the continued disenchantment the young and old alike are finding with life, and which is causing them to take their own lives. Actually, this is a cause for national concern because the nation needs to ask itself why the suicide rate is rising and why many more people seem to be finding it easier to use suicide to solve their problems.

    You know what suicide is, don’t you? It is difficult to joke with a topic like this, so we will be straight. Suicide is when an individual decides that he or she has had enough of life, because of too much physical or mental or financial suffering, and kills himself or herself using any method at hand, sniper or drug overdose being the favourites. Usually, such people do it silently, because they do not want the neighbours to know.

    The reports of those who have committed suicide have risen so astronomically in the country. It’s so bad you don’t know whether to ask each person you meet in the course of the day if they are thinking of ending their life. Who knows: you might offend or you might save. Seriously, the rate of this disorder is alarming. In the news report on this topic, the rate in Nigeria is said to be almost one case per week at 9.5 per 100, 000, citing Nigeria’s ranking as 10th in Africa and 67th in the world.

    The reasons people easily resort to suicide can range from emotional problems to economic challenges, work stress, life’s stresses, setbacks, substance abuse, failure to achieve goals, mental or terminal illnesses, diminishing job prospects, etc. It becomes worrisome however when the youth are taking to it like a fad. Someone said it is ‘trending’! You know the youth, don’t you? It is that part of the population which thinks that the sun ought always to be shining in the eyes of their girl or boy friends, and whenever it doesn’t, then the end of the world has come.

    Indeed, another source told me that there are many cases of suicide not reported in the media or in the statistics, citing some young ones in his hospital who had attempted suicide and failed, while some had succeeded, on account of being jilted by one boy or girl friend. This I think is why doctors in our midst warned that there are likely to be many more suicides in that age bracket because the country is ‘breeding immature adults’, according to a news report.

    I am no psychiatrist, but clearly, psychological tensile strains differ. People’s ability to absorb failure and take things in their strides varies largely. Sadly, the toxic level of the country right now is rather high, what with boko haram insurgency, herdsmen attacks, kidnappings, economic downturn, social disconnections, reduced family presence, etc. All these are toxins that can act as catalysts and tip an individual with a weak strength over the edge.

    What can we do? We all need suicide-proof vests. The main sources of hope seem to revolve around interventions from government, family and society. Unfortunately, there are only two industries in Nigeria right now: government and schools. It is an aberration that the government is the largest employer of labour and cannot even absorb everyone; it is a sign that its economic programmes are anything but working. Many factories have closed down because of the economy. Many people have lost their jobs, and worse, many young ones have less hope of being employed. On the other hand, schools are training and bringing out graduates in their thousands each year, bringing us to the point where we have all these graduates who are all dressed up, and nowhere to go.

    The government must firm up its economic policies to allow the private sector regain its strength. A vibrant economy is one that is run by the private sector. The government must recalibrate the economy in such a way that the factories will run again. Otherwise, the work force that we are training today and not using in these graduates will certainly explode someday.

    The family needs to also find itself again. It is lost, presently. Too many families are too fractured to make any meaningful impact in their member’s lives, yet the family is the bulwark for most people. When the world fails one, the family should provide the shoulder to cry on. Not many people have that. This is why many a young one puts his or her anchor in a boy or girl and conclude there is nothing else to live for when that anchor fails. Too many parents do not have the time to nurture their young ones and teach them about the deep, deep things of life. Family communication is a vital part of growing up; children learn the skills of persuasion there.

    Social networks are also very useful for people. Friends, associates, colleagues, can be strong suicide-proof vests. When birds of the same feather flock together, they tend to fly safely or perish together. True, we live in a get rich quick society but sooner or later, everyone finds out that there is no such thing. However, true friendship shows through in individuals and we would come to have something to cherish in each other.

    Everyone should also be nurtured or nurture him or herself to believe that we all have duties towards the self, others, country and the world. To the self, life is sacrosanct and we are expected to guard it jealously. We have a right not to be killed; and we certainly have no right to take our own lives.

    How to make life more comfortable for other people rather than pursuing our own comfort should be one’s focus. This would probably reduce the level of selfishness we are witnessing in the country in the embezzlements and sectional pursuits. It is everyone’s duty to contribute positively to this country and the world at large.

    When people are taking their own lives, it is a sign that the country’s religions are not working as they should. The leaders have not provided adequate and worthy models of behaviour for their followers. That’s for another day. I understand there are up to 40-60 million people with mental disorders in this country and only 200 psychiatrists. That is 40-60 million reasons why this country needs to firm up and get its mental house in order to reduce deaths by suicide.