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  • BSN donates 1,000 Bibles to Lagos Police

    BSN donates 1,000 Bibles to Lagos Police

    THE Bible Society of Nigeria (BSN) has donated customised 1,000 bibles to the Lagos Command of the Nigeria Police.

    Speaking at the event, which held at the Police College Chapel on Sunday, the Society’s General Secretary Richard Dare Ajiboye, said the objective of the donation was to boost evangelism among policemen, adding that the Bible is a weapon members of the force could deploy to succeed in their work.

    He said: “We are here to contribute our quota to equipping you with the spiritual weapon to succeed in your enormous task of policing the country. As you go about your work of protecting lives and protecting, you will also need the Word of God to guide you and to help bring others to the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.’’

    Last year, he said, the BSN donated Bibles worth N17.1million to some groups as part of its Free Bible Distribution scheme and 2,000 Bibles to the Nigerian Army.

    Chaplain of state Police Command, Venerable Omolaja Abiodun, a DSP, praised BSN management for the gesture. He recalled that when he chanced on a customised copy of the BSN Bible, the Fellowship led a delegation to the Society to request for a similar Bible. ‘’This gift is indelible in our hearts. It will help save our families,’’ he said. He said when one led a policeman to God, he would be saving a nation from calamity, adding: ‘’No one remains the same after an encounter with the word of God.’’

     

  • Meningitis: 1,400 inmates vaccinated in Bauchi

    The Bauchi State Primary Health Care Development Agency has vaccinated 1,400 inmates and 240 prisons’ staff against  Cerebro Spinal Meningitis (CSM).

    Mr Adamu Gamawa, the Chairman of the agency, made this known in Bauchi on Thursday in an interview with the News Agency of Nigeria (NAN).
    According to him, the proactive measure is to prevent the occurrence of the disease among prison inmates in view of the congestion in the prisons.

    He said that the measure would be replicated in similar public facilities to prevent the spread of the disease.

    The chairman said that the agency had requested for more vaccines from the National Primary Health Care Agency to scale up preventive measures.

     

  • I’m Dazini Madumere (1)

    My story ordinarily should be a simple one. Born with a silver spoon, raised in a fantastic ambience and educated in some of the best schools in the world. Rich and famous. Brilliant and beautiful. My paths were laced with opportunities. I have had almost the best that this world could offer: good upbringing, good education, good jobs and the best of political appointments available in my country.

    From an early age, I was not confused about what I wanted to be. A particular event helped shape me. My father, Ignatius Amama, was a Big Boy with Shell Petroleum Development Company. And we were living in Shell Camp in Port Harcourt, a picturesque city, a city of promise, a city flowing with milk and honey, a city where dreams came alive and a city where great minds found the room to flourish and flower.

    Like Lagos, it was some form of convergence for races. Igbo, Yoruba, Hausa, Kanuri, Ibibio and others saw in Port Harcourt a home away from home.

    Port Harcourt of yore was not a city where fear walked on all fours. The Port Harcourt I grew up in was a city where people loved their neigbours like themselves. It was a beautiful city. So beautiful they rechristened it Garden City because of the choreographed embrace between its well-laid road networks and flowers lining them.

    In it, oil giants made money and were not afraid. Their gates were not manned by stern-looking soldiers or riot policemen. Neither were their key figures escorted everywhere by gun-toting security men.

    The Nigerian civil war was the first blow on Port Harcourt. Igbo who saw the Rivers State capital as home put their all into it. They built houses, industries and so on there. Then came the war and their properties were confiscated all in the name of abandoned properties. Their attempts to reclaim their toils after the war were resisted. Though some got back their due with time, not a few lost their properties forever.

    After the war, Port Harcourt seemed to get its groove back. But the return to democracy in 1999 marked another twist. Politicians — out to show strength —  armed young and jobless youths with rifles and machine guns. Opponents were taken down with ease. Key political figures, such as Chief Marshal Harry, were killed and the culprits never found not to talk of being brought to justice.

    I still ask myself how did I get into this pitiable state? It all started when a long-standing family friend, Dr. Luck Than, accidentally found himself in power as the president and pulled me out of what I thought was a well-paying job. First, I was put in-charge of the Ministry of Works. My first major assignment was a tour of the Lagos-Benin Expressway. The road was a death trap. There were craters almost on every one kilometre. Some of the craters were big enough to swallow a danfo. I was shocked at my discovery and wept and the cameras caught me and I appeared on the front pages of many a newspaper.

    Before then, I was used to flying around and outside the country. Any road trip beyond two hours, I flew. SPDC had enough money to charter helicopter to take me around. So, on becoming a minister and having to do a road tour, I was shocked by the Lagos-Ibadan Expressway and could not but cry.

    At the end, I could not fix the road before I was moved to another ministry, where I was off the public radar for some time. Then what appeared to be my breakthrough, which time soon turned to be my doom, was my movement to the Ministry of Petroleum Resources.

    By this time, I had become the golden fish and there was no hidden place for me. Men courted my friendship. Women were not left out. Black and white people and even albinos fell over one another to be in my good books. Bank executives, oil sheiks and politicians either prayed to find myfavour or get some juju to make me see things their way. Marabouts must have been employed to get me to play ball.

    My face became an everyday feature in the media. The blogs scooped around for gossips about me. Twitter, facebook and what have you heard about my grace and could not but join in telling my story, real or imagined.

    It seemed like a roller coaster. But like life itself, everything has an end. Dr Than was defeated in an election that many thought might end in bloodshed.

    Some may think that was the beginning of my trouble. But it really began some months before while I was having my bath.  It really all started one day while I was having my bath. This was about one year before my boss, Dr. Than, was defeated and we had to leave offices.

    I felt something like a lump in my left breast. I was shocked. I had read about cancer in glossy Western magazines during my days as a university student, and assumed then that it was a white person’s disease. After university and having seen many black women went down with it, I knew it was a serious matter. So, fear enveloped me when I felt the lump.

    What would I do without my breasts? To me, they were not mere appendages and mastectomy was something I did not want to think about. I never wanted to lose a breast. I just wished whatever was ailing it should just vanish.

    My thought went to my kids, the four of them, who needed their mother very much. For a month, I lived in denial. I kept telling myself that it couldn’t be. I kept telling myself that maybe it would disappear. So at first I kept the discovery of the lump to myself. I did not tell my husband, and I did not go see a specialist.I just felt one day I would discover it had dissolved and went to where it came from.

    While still deceiving myself, I chanced on a television programme, which featured a breast cancer survivor identified as Carol Baldwin. She was on the show with her sons. The text scrolling across the screen was motivational. I read: “THIS PROGRAMME CAN SAVE YOUR LIFE.”

    After the programme, I felt it was time I went to check out what was wrong. I found hope and my spirit was lifted.

    I also read a lot about cancer that day. I remembered coming across a quote by another survivor: “The human cells are the basic building blocks that make up the tissue. There are tissues in the breast and other parts of the body. Cells regenerate; they grow and die so new cells will be formed. So every now and then, some bricks break down and are rebuilt almost immediately. However, there may be this cell, or brick, which refuses to regenerate and just keeps growing and growing, taking up space that belongs to other cells, to other bricks. These cells can spread quickly.”

    The day after, I visited a tertiary hospital, where the lump was confirmed to be breast cancer after a thorough examination.

    I was sufficiently informed enough to ask the right questions: “Is it benign? Is it malignant?”

    I was told it was not malignant and that my chances of surviving it were high. I was overjoyed and followed all the instructions and did all I was told to do. I even took a casual leave so that I could treat myself properly. All this while, I did not mention anything to my husband or children. I felt there was no need getting them worried for nothing sake.

    For the next few weeks after the treatment, I monitored the lump and I felt it was disappearing. I was happy and even went to a church to donate some money as my own way of thanking God for rescuing me. It was at this stage that I told my husband and my children. They were happy it was all over, but they also blamed me for not telling them so that they could be there for me. I sought their forgiveness and they all willingly gave it.

    I went back to work. It was not long after that we perfected the deal on some oil blocs that were outstanding. I was also kept busy by marketers and other players in the industry who wanted one thing or the other. I was also busy with issues surrounding the elections. The opposition was really becoming a pain in the neck and we felt all hands must be on the deck. We held meetings after meetings, many late into the night. The bottom line was how I would arrange money for us to oil the electioneering wheel. I was more than willing to help because I knew the trouble we would all be in for if we allowed the opposition to get into power.

    Outside power, they were making so much noise about so-called corruption in the oil sector, which I was in charge of and it was not lost on me that if these guys found their way into power, I would be a major target of whatever probe they were going to carry out. The fear of the opposition was thus the beginning of wisdom for me.

    • Excerpts from a novel in the making
  • Imo gives 1,000 rice farmers inputs

    Imo gives 1,000 rice farmers inputs

    Executive Assistant to Imo State Governor on Poverty Alleviation Dr. Edwin Uche said the government distributed inputs and paddy rice to 1,000 rice farmers.
    Uche, who coordinates the Anchor Borrowers’ Programme, told News Agency of Nigeria (NAN) in Owerri the measure was to boost rice production.
    He said: “Besides providing farmers with high-yielding rice seedlings, inputs and finance, we engage experts, who will put them through the process.
    “There is arrangement for off-takers to buy off what they will produce.
    “We believe through this approach and financial checks by officials of Bank of Agriculture, the sky will be the limit of farmers venturing into this agribusiness initiative.’’
    The executive assistant said the government planned to join the league of commercial rice producers.
    “Imo has the potential to be among the net producer and exporter of rice because of factors counting in its favour,’’ he added.
    NAN reports that Okigwe, Ideato North, Oguta and Ihitte Uboma are fertile for rice cultivation.
    Uche noted that Nigeria made impact in rice production on the continent and Imo would key into the drive.
    “Agriculture is a sector capable of providing employment.
    “This is the new drive being pursued by the Federal Government and the Governor Rochas Okorocha administration,’’ he said.
    The executive assistant advised the beneficiaries of the programme to utilise the opportunity because it could transform them into rich farmers and employers.

  • Dazini’s misfortune (1)

    Dazini’s misfortune (1)

    Dazini forfeits $153m to Fed Govt.

    The six-word newspaper headline tore her 54-year-old heart and she felt like she was going to go down with a cardiac arrest. The words looked to her like a suicide bomber ready to strike with 100 per cent precision. Her eyes began to moisten. Everything in the beautiful London mansion meant nothing to her. She was too soaked in tears to notice the sparkling marbles on the floor or the gold-plated L-shaped chair she was sitting on.

    The loads on her mind were too much for her Howard and Cambridge degrees to bear. Her past status as some sort of Alice in Wonderland or Cleopatra made no meaning to her now. She was down and struggling not to be out.

    “My daughter, it is not the end of the world,” Madam Ikuku said to her.

    But she was literally deaf. She just starred at the beautiful sitting room but saw nothing but a huge hell hole.

    “Dazini, calm down,” Madam Ikuku said after a few seconds.

    Still, she did not hear her 80-year-old mother’s plea. And this made the old woman extremely sad. Her beautiful daughter’s life had been turned upside down in the last one and a half years. Her beauty had literally faded. Heads no longer turned on seeing her. Perhaps they turned in pity of what she had become.

    Madam Ikuku was close to tears too for this daughter she raised with silver spoon at the beautiful Shell Camp in Port Harcourt. Her paths, Madam Ikuku recalled, were laced with opportunities. She had had almost the best that this world could offer: good upbringing, good education, good jobs, the best of political appointments available in their country.

    Dazini looked at her worried mother for the first time in almost an hour. She touched her head. It had become almost bald. The little hair on it was fresh and grey.  Her back started hurting badly. She had been advised not sit so low. She adjusted herself and the words appeared in her memory again: Dazini forfeits $153m to Fed Govt.

    The pain these words gave her reminded her of the effect of the surgery, chemotherapy and radiotherapy she had had to endure as a result of an aggressive form of breast cancer. On one occasion, she even slipped into natural and induced coma.

    That day Madam Ikuku thought the end had come. And she wished she died first before her daughter would be pronounced dead while she was still alive. But after five painful days, she rose from the dead and her pains continued on earth. It was not long after this that the London Metropolitan Police came calling. They searched everywhere and only found 27,000 Pounds but the reports about the search inflated the figures ridiculously. Her home in Abuja was also frisked by the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) that day.

    Dazini forfeits $153m to Fed Govt.

    These words again came to her memory. Some steps away from her position was The Carnivorous City, Toni Kan’s latest novel about Lagos, crime, sex and an elder brother who ended up ‘marrying’ his missing younger brother’s wife and wished he would never be found. The copy was brought in from Lagos by Daniella, her cousin whose love for Kan and anything he wrote could only be described as legendary.

    Reading was a luxury Dazini could not afford at the moment. She was between the devil and the deep blue sea. She was fighting cancer and at the same time battling to keep what was left of her reputation. She had been turned upside down so much that she could not even recognise herself in some of the writings about her. Facts had married fictions and telling the difference or the meeting point was a task too much for her troubled brain.

    **************************

    From an early age, Dazini was not confused about what she wanted to be. A particular event helped shape her. Her father, Ignatius Amama, was a Big Boy with Shell Petroleum Development Company. And they were living in Shell Camp in Port Harcourt, a picturesque city, a city of promise, a city flowing with milk and honey, a city where dreams came alive and a city where great minds found the room to flourish and flower.

    Like Lagos, it was some form of convergence for races. Igbo, Yoruba, Hausa, Kanuri, Ibibio and others saw in Port Harcourt a home away from home.

    Port Harcourt of yore was not a city where fear walked on all fours. It was a city where people loved their neigbours like themselves. It was a beautiful city. So beautiful they rechristened it Garden City because of the choreographed embrace between its well-laid road networks and flowers lining them.

    In it, oil giants made money and were not afraid. Their gates were not manned by stern-looking soldiers or riot policemen. Neither were their key figures escorted everywhere by gun-toting security men.

    The Nigerian civil war was the first blow on Port Harcourt. Igbo who saw the Rivers State capital as home put their all into it. They built houses, industries and so on there. Then came the war and their properties were confisticated all in the name of abandoned properties. Their attempts to reclaim their toils after the war were resisted. Though some got back their due with time, not a few lost their properties forever.

    After the war, Port Harcourt seemed to get its groove back. But the return to democracy in 1999 marked another twist. Politicians — out to show strength —  armed young and jobless youths with rifles and machine guns. Opponents were taken down with ease. Key political figures, such as Chief Marshal Harry, were killed and the culprits never found not to talk of being brought to justice.

    Dazini’s father was not happy with the way oil giant was treating the Nigerian employees and he turned himself into an advocate for the oppressed. This did not go down well with the expatriates who soon threw him out of the Shell Camp. Their properties were flung into a truck and they thus said goodbye to their beautiful home.

    Pa Amma’s grouse was that the oil giant came in promising the people heaven on earth only to even treat their Nigerian workers with disdain. That event made her decide to position herself well to be able to get the oil giants to do the right thing.

    **************************

    Her reverie was cut short by the arrival of Atete, her house keeper. Atete was the live-in lover of a militant who almost killed her with constant beating before she rescued her and took her from Yenagoa to Abuja when she was minister. She moved with her to London after she left office. Atete had shown so much loyalty that she felt she would be so useful for her at this critical phase of her life. The cancer diagnosis had been made while she was still in office and she disappeared once in a while to London for treatment under the disguise of official assignments.

    Atete was holding some magazines. They looked like the soft-sells from Nigeria. They were. Her friend who just relocated from Nigeria brought them and gave her the copies because they contained stories about her Madam.

    The stories were simply salacious linking her with no less than four younger men. These were men she had dealings with as minister. The reporters concluded that they got the deals from her ministry because she was going to bed with all of them. One even wrote that she was some form of nymphomaniac whose older husband could not please sexually.

    Dazini had heard all kinds of stories of her supposed sexual exploits before and was learning to develop tick skin.

    After the greetings, Atete simply walked in with the magazines without bothering to discuss them or show them to her boss. She had seen enough of the pains of the once-beautiful woman now ravaged by cancer to add to them with the gossips in the magazines.

    As Atete left for her room, those words Dazini forfeits $153m to Fed Govt came tearing at her heart again and the tears came, now ferociously. Her mother could not resist the temptation to join in this time around.

    It was certainly going to be another long night and the ominous clouds seemed not about to give way to a beautiful blue sky.

    • The story continues

     

  • How to improve on your marriage (1)

    Dear Reader,

    Halleluyah! We have come to the last and crowning month of this glorious year. As always, it is a great privilege to welcome you to another exciting time on your favourite weekly column.  Our focus for this month shall be on How to Improve on Your Marriage.

    Today, I would start by saying that Marriage Is A Miracle! It is important for you to know that nothing works on its own, just as no problem solves itself. In the same vain, miracles only answer to certain inputs from the benefactor. In other words, your obedience to what is required of you and how you initiate same is what eventually makes your marriage a wonder to behold.

    Take the miracle of the turning of water into wine, for instance.  Mary told the servants: whatever he (Jesus) tells you to do, do it (John 2:5). The servants initiated their miracle by obeying Jesus’ instructions to fill the water pots with water. Nothing happens by chance in the Kingdom of God. There is always something you must do to get what you want. All you need to do is to accept the required responsibility.

    Marriage is a miracle! Daily, we see men and women seeking after soothsayers and seers, to know whom to marry, the cause of their marital delays, to find out what the future holds for their marriages, and how they can be guided into glorious homes.

    But, for us at the other side of Jordan, we have a reason to thank God. This is because, He doesn’t leave us to guess and grope through life. That is why He said: Call unto me, and I will answer thee, and shew thee great and mighty things, which thou knowest not (Jeremiah 33:3).

    It is the thoughts of man that make a man. What you think of your marriage and family makes it what it is. You can’t think obstacles in your marriage and have miracles. You can’t think of marriage as a necessary evil, and experience a glorious marriage, because sweet marriages and homes are basically provoked by your thoughts.

    Nobody builds a tower without adequate preparation and a strong foundation. You must first desire a tower, before you can build one. Do not enter into a marriage covenant without an expectation. If you expect the best, it will be yours (Proverbs 23:18).

    Someone once came to me for counselling and said that she had been having a very tough time in her marriage. As she spoke, I deduced that the root cause of her problems was her wrong perspective about marriage. She had expected grief and calamity, so when the storms rose against her marriage, she began to cry, saying, “They told me that it would be like this.”

    Below is a testimony that will further help your perspective about marriage:

    “I used to worship in a place where the pastors believe that misunderstanding brings about understanding. One day, the lady pastor asked me if I had ever had any serious quarrel with my wife (then my fiancée), and I said, ‘No’.  She then said that we had not started, and that until we had quarreled and fought, we would not know if we truly love each other.

    Shortly after our wedding, we started having problems in our home. But when I came here, I heard the Bishop say, ‘I have not had the first argument with my wife.’ I told my wife that if what the man of God said is the truth, then we’ve been in the wrong place, where we had been fed with the wrong spiritually food.  So, we decided to start worshipping here.

    We told ourselves, ‘What this man of God has seen that is making his marriage sweet, we also must discover it.’ Then I was in WOFBI Full-Time programme. After each lecture, I would go home and teach my wife the same thing. Today, to the glory of God, we don’t have misunderstandings anymore!” Ibiang, A.I.

    God has promised to grant your expectations, whether good or bad. So, let your expectations be based on God’s Word, for it is higher than any evil experience or information about marriage you may have had or heard (Proverbs 10:24).

    If you have caught any light from this piece, believe God for a unique touch in your home, and you will have a testimony in Jesus’ name.

    To have a miracle marriage, you need to first of all receive the Miracle Worker into your life. His Name is Jesus and you can receive Him by confessing your sins and saying this prayer with faith in your heart: Dear Lord Jesus Christ, I come to You today. I am a sinner. Forgive me of my sins and cleanse me with Your Blood. Deliver me from sin and satan to serve the living God. I accept You as my Lord and Saviour. Make me a child of God today. Thank You for accepting me into Your Kingdom.

    If you prayed this simple prayer, you are now a child of God. He loves you and will never leave you. Read your Bible daily, obey God’s Word and seek Christian fellowship (John 14:21).

    Congratulations! You are now born again! All-round rest and peace are guaranteed you, in Jesus’ Name. Call or write, and share your testimonies with me through contact@faithoyedepo.org; OR 07026385437 and 08141320204.

     

    For more insight, these books authored by me are available at the Dominion Bookstores in all Living Faith Churches and other leading Christian bookstores: Marriage Covenant, Making Marriage Work, Building A Successful Home and Success in Marriage (Co-Authored).

  • This thing called politics (1)

    Ekiw Moseyn is staring at the wine cup sitting on the coffee table as he learns of the police’s resolve to thwart his latest action against his arch-rival and ex-boss Timiro Ihcema.

    “The CP is really working against us,” his aide Simeone Okah says over the phone. “He is supposed to be taking instructions from the Chief Security Officer and no one else. What sort of federal system are we practicing that the CP takes orders elsewhere? We caught these people read-handed. The evidence is good enough to prove that they are guilty. So, why are they messing around with us? We should not give up.”

    Simeone pauses, giving Ekiw some time to chew on the latest information. “We should always be a step ahead of them,” he continues. “This state is ours and no one must be allowed to take it from us. This rerun is ours to win and nothing must stop that. We must continue to make noise about those bandits we found with fake result sheets so that the world will bear us witness.”

    “Thank you for your support,” Ekiw says. He imagines how many people he has been able to sell the lie to as gospel truth.

    “We just have to show them we are in charge. And what better way is there to do that than trouncing them election after election?” Simeon says and Ekiw wonders about the extent he has gone to keep Waters State in the grip of the Umbrella Peoples Party (UPP).

    For the next fifteen minutes, Simeon talks about how the president is allowing Timiro to ride roughshod over the state; how the economy is getting worse and not much is being done to bring it to normalcy; how gari is gradually getting off the grip of the poor; how rice is almost becoming a special delicacy only meant for special occasions; and how the president, in the midst of all these, is allowing his minister to use security agencies to undermine the governor of his state.

    As he goes on and on, Ekiw listens and talks less. He does not tell Simeone that the president alone is not to blame for the dwindling economic fortunes. He does not remind him that Timiro is only fighting back like a real politician should do. He simply allows his aide have his way. With a promise to reflect on their discussion and get back to him-a promise he has no plan of keeping- he hangs up.

    He stands from the swivel chair he has sat in the last thirty minutes or so of the call. He parts the window blind and looks at the expansive compound that is his office. He catches a glimpse of the huge diesel tank, the one he earlier in the life of his administration accused Timiro of stealing its content. He smiles as this thought comes to his mind.

    “This game of politics,” he says aloud.

    He walks into the toilet, pulls his trousers and sits on the water closet and stays there for some three minutes without anything being discharged. He wears his trousers back, cleans his hands with soap and returns to the office. There his attention catches an oil-on-canvas painting on the wall. He has no idea what the artist had in mind. All he sees are colours splash all over a board. He imagines how many people really understand these oil-on-canvas paintings. He remembers his argument with a friend back in the university. He had told the friend that oil-on-canvas was nothing but a reflection of the confused state of mind of the artist drawing it. They had argued on and on.

    The immediate past soon pays him a visit and the memories come rushing as if ready to turn his head around.

    ********

    Two weeks earlier, Ekiw and his kitchen cabinet had one of their several strategy sessions. It was not to develop the state. It was purely about how to keep the state perpetually in their grips.

    “We have to break the back of these ‘change people’, especially Timiro and Sidepeter,” said Anthony, the UPP chairman.

    “What do you have in mind?” Ekiw asked.

    “I know Sidepeter has a cousin who is into printing. His office is around C-Line…”

    “What has that got to do with us?” impatient Ekiw asked.

    “Plenty, Your Excellency,” Anthony replied,” We will go and plant some incriminating materials in the press relating to the rerun and we will accuse him, Sidepeter and by extension, Timiro, of plotting to rig the election in favour of their Change Peoples Congress (CPC).”

    “How do we perfect that?” Simeone asked.

    “Simple,” interjects Chukwu Oke, “What we will do is that we will not use the regular police. We will use the police attached to the deputy governor’s office and this will be done on a weekend when His Excellency will be out of town. He will then address a press conference on return about the development.”

    “How do we get Sidepeter’s man to say implicating stuffs on record?” Ekiw asked.

    “We will torture him. We will motivate our police to deal mercilessly with him so that he will own up to the crime and confess to the crime and name names. We will also get him to say that INEC released the serial number for the results’ sheets to the CPC,” said Chukwu.

    “But the beating must not be as such that he will have blood all over so that he will not be justified to claim he did it under duress,” Ekiw cautions.

    They all nodded their head. And there was silence for some ten seconds. Ekiw breaks the silence.

    “We also need to release the report of our enquiry into the violence recorded during the March rerun. We must release the report and the White Paper before the conclusion of the rerun polls. Of course, we will indict the CPC and recommend some of their key guys, especially that one who says he is honourable when in my sight he is the opposite. We will recommend him for murder trial. We will look for someone’s death to put on his neck. We can’t allow them to take this state from us. Everything must be thrown into the ring,” Ekiw said.

    His men agreed with him. They discussed further timelines for these actions and logistics were also perfected.

    ********

    Back from the land of reminisce, Ekiw grabs his phone. He summons Anthony to his office. He also orders Chukwu to report in his office immediately. Thirty-minutes later, the duo arrives. They exchange pleasantries with His Excellency.

    Ekiw sits on the couch facing the coffee table. Chukwu and Anthony finds spaces close by. He grabs the wine cup, fills it up and drinks in that characteristic style of his, which suggests “this is the life”. After gulping down the wine, he fires the first salvo: “Any information about Sidepeter’s man?”

    Chukwu speaks first: “I’m just from the control room and the information we just intercepted is that the police are bent on disgracing us if we are intent on proving any case against the man. Their position is that our action in arresting the guy was illegally carried out and cannot stand the test of the law.

    “We hear the guy is just in protective custody and not in detention as we want. That is why Timiro and Sidepeter are not making any noise about the matter. They have it all wrapped up with the security agents. In fact, from the information we intercepted, they are ready to shame us and are outrightly accusing us of planting incriminating materials in the guy’s office if we do not pipe down,” Anthony chips in.

    Ekiw says nothing, fills his cup once more and downs the content. His eyes are becoming blood-shot. He has just finished the sixth bottle of his favourite vintage Louis wine.

     

    To be continued.

  • Cries of slum children (1)

    Cries of slum children (1)

    The youths, children inclusive are often said to be the leaders of tomorrow. But for many children of school ages at Ijora Badia, a shanty community in Lagos State and several other impoverished communities across the country,  the saying appears to be a ruse. Their despondent feeling is borne out of the sordid darkness that surrounds their inalienable right to basic education which they actually need to attain leadership position in the future. They were all crestfallen as they shared their predicament with The Nation.The female children among them gave a mind boggling account of how they have become  soft targets for rapists who allegedly infect some of them with HIV and how some of those impregnated by the hooligans once resorted to feeding pigs with  their unwanted babies because they lacked the means of  taking care of them.  INNOCENT DURU reports.

    It was a weekday and the time was noon when pupils in primary and secondary schools were expected to be immersed in their studies. But 14-year-old Risi Taiwo wasn’t in school. She was found gamboling around her place of abode-  one of the make-shift tents constructed beside a rail line by her people and other neighbours who had their houses at Ijora Badia demolished recently.

    Even though, she looked excited as she ambled around, Risi’s heart was filled with burning  anger and frustration.  Before you ask why, Risi said: “I am sad because I have been out of school for more than a year and I am not sure if I will have the opportunity of  seeing the four walls of classroom again. This is because my mother who was responsible for my education died shortly after our house was demolished. I am now with my aunt who is also not finding life easy with her family.

    “My future, I must say, is bleak because I have not been doing anything since I stopped going to school. I don’t think I can achieve my dream of having a  better  life than my late mother. I am not however alone in this mess. Several other children in this community are also out of school and just aimlessly loitering around the area without any idea of what the future holds for them. We are marching backward in life and could be worse off than our parents who also did not go to school.”

    Aside from Risi, findings showed that the incidence of dropping out of school among children of school age in the area and adjoining impoverished communities is geometrically rising. Checks showed that this is largely fuelled by myriads of  policies that are inconsiderate  of the children’s education and the economic recession that has made it difficult for many parents to fend for their children.

    Our correspondent who visited Ijora Badia reported that the environment falls short of where  human beings should dwell in. The tents which were littered with refuse and human excreta are made of trampoline and wood without any covering to shield the inhabitants from harsh weather conditions and external aggression. It was therefore not surprising when some of the girls said the environment has exposed them to all manners of sexual assaults that have compounded their academic woes. Evidence of this manifested in the manners the miscreants lustfully harassed the girls in the course of taking our correspondent round the community.

    Risi  shared her disgusting experience of sexual assault thus: “We are daily exposed to unimaginable atrocities. This is particularly worse for us (the females) because evil minded men within and outside the community exploit our conditions by sexually abusing us with impunity. They storm our tents late at night and  mess up with us. This would not have been the case if we had been going to school. If we had been going to school, they would not have the opportunity of monitoring us all day and waiting till night to sexually molest us.

    “My case is about the worse in this whole environment because I was deflowered by my blood brother.  He raped me severally and when I couldn’t bear it again, I summoned courage and reported his atrocities to my mother before she died.  When I told her about the incident, she took me to a place where a sacrifice was done to prevent the consequences that my brother’s  atrocity could bring upon the family. My brother thereafter ran away and as we speak, his whereabouts are unknown.  This is something I don’t like to reflect on because it refreshes my sorrow.”

    Much as she tried to put the atrocities of her brother behind her, Risi said the menace of  other rapists kept the memory alive in her consciousness. “I was battling with putting my past behind me when a boy in the neighbourhood recently sneaked into where I was lying and wanted to rape me. I gave him the fight of his life because I was ready to die than to cowardly allow him have his way. He shamefully left when he couldn’t overpower me.

    “That has not stopped all manners of sexual harassment from others. Like I said earlier, I am not alone in this. That is how several girls in my shoes are either daily raped or lured with peanuts because they are out of school and roaming the street without focus. Unfortunately, most of these evil men do this nonsense without protection. This is why abortions, unwanted pregnancies and incidences of abandoned children are very high here. I wish to leave this environment but where and to whom shall I go to? ”

    One of the children in Risi’s shoes is Toyosi Oreatan who has also been out of school for more than one year without any hope of returning to the classroom anytime soon.

    Like Risi, 12-year-old Toyosi began her story  by  narrating how she narrowly escaped being raped in the dead of the night by a rapist who sneaked into her tent.

    “I was sleeping when I suddenly observed somebody that covered himself with my mother’s wrapper. Initially, I thought it was my mother but when he tried doing some nasty things with me, I woke and shouted. My mum quickly woke up and held him. She eventually allowed him to go because he is one of the boys in the neighbourhood.

    “I have been seriously devastated by that incident because, aside from worrying about my education that is hanging in the balance, I have also been feeling insecure. I hardly sleep with my two eyes closed these days because of the fear that somebody could pounce on me with the intention of raping me. ”

    Toyosi’s mother, Lamide, told The Nation that the hooligan that wanted to rape her daughter removed the wrapper with which he covered himself from her (the mother) body without her knowledge. “I used the wrapper to cover myself but he removed and used it to cover himself without my knowledge. He confessed that he did that to make my daughter assume that I was the one lying beside her and  with that, he would have gone far before my daughter  would realise what was happening,” she said.

    Toyosi equally blamed her plight on the fact that she has dropped out of school. “I have not gone to school for more than one year. I stopped going to school after my mother’s means of livelihood was affected by the demolition of our house and several others last year.  My school uniform, result, birth certificate and several other valuables were trapped in the house during the demolition.  I just completed my primary education at Foursquare Nursery and Primary School and about entering secondary school when the incident happened.

    “I have been at home since then doing nothing. I feel very bad whenever I see some of my  friends going or returning from school. At times, some of them would come saying ‘Toyosi, when would you go back to school or has your academic life ended at ordinary primary level’?  I always shed tears each time I see them not to even talk of when they make such  remarks that deeply exacerbate the mental and psychological agony I am going through.

    “I certainly want to go back to school but I don’t know how this can happen again because my mother doesn’t have what it takes to pay my bills. You can see where we have been staying  since they demolished our building. We have been finding it difficult to feed not to talk of having the money to go to school.”

    Asked why she didn’t register in a public school where education is free, she added: “My mum was  paying N15, 000 as school  fee every  term  when I was in primary school. But she doesn’t have the wherewithal to pay my fees again after the incident. Because she could not raise money to train me in private school, she decided to take me to a public school but she still couldn’t  raise the sum of N3, 500 that was required to produce a new birth certificate that was demanded for my registration. She also didn’t have money to buy books and school uniform for me. It is disheartening for me.”

    Toyosi’s dishevelled and traumatised mother recounted how the daughter weeps always for being out of school. She said: “Toyosi cries to me almost on a daily basis about her education but there is nothing I can do for now. I have never wished that my children should drop out of school but the condition I have found myself now is beyond what I ever envisaged in life.

    “I have three children who I cater for all alone. I was managing and doing my best to train them in  school until the demolition exercise affected our accommodation and my means of livelihood. I attempted making Toyosi to continue her education in a public school but they asked us to bring birth certificate and also pay some other monies for her registration. But I didn’t have the money to pay.

    “I couldn’t even afford to pay the N3,500  demanded by those who wanted to produce the birth certificate not to talk about having the means of buying her school uniform, sandals and books. That is why she has been at home for the past one year. I want Toyosi to go back to school and have never given up on this.”

    Another distraught member of the community is Stephen Happiness. The 15-year-old also said that she stopped going to school after her mum died last year. “I had concluded my Junior Secondary School (JSS) education and heading to the senior class when she died. I desired being a science student because of my desire to work in the medical circles. I am presently living with my step father who does not have the means of paying my bills. I don’t know my father. My mother told me that he left the house when I was only two weeks old and never came back.

    “So, I have no helper anywhere. I only look up to God for mercy. I desire going back to school but there is just nobody to assist me. This has been a huge burden in my heart all along because my ambition of going to the university appears unattainable,” she said.

    Aside from her education that is hanging in the balance, Happiness said: “The pains about my academic situation  are compounded by the situation we are presently. We have been living in these tents that we constructed by the railway lines after our houses were demolished. It has been a hell on earth living here for most of us.

    “We have our bath in the open by merely wearing singlets and boxer shots. This exposes so many young girls like me to series of sexual molestation.  Many female children in the community that dropped out of school get lured with as little as N500 by depraved men. They sleep with them, impregnate and infect many with sexually transmitted diseases including HIV.

    “Health workers come here from time to time to carry out tests on people and have on many occasions found many girls to be infected. They have been here today and left barely less than 30 minutes before I met you. As I am talking to you now, a number of my colleagues have been raped and impregnated by hoodlums.”

    She added: “Some of them have put to bed without having anybody taking care of them. To make both ends meet, a number of them now sleep around with different men. Some of these girls dump their babies in the bush and canals out of frustration. Some deliberately put their babies where pigs will easily eat them up.

    “In fact, I have seen pigs eating up a newly born baby with the placenta intact and the body covered with fresh blood. I was shell shocked when I saw it. This is one of the consequences of dropping out of school.Many of us are not happy that we are out of school. We feel sad about it because we know the abuses that come with lying idle in an open place like this. I want to go back to school and I will thankfully appreciate anybody that helps me to actualise my dream.”

    Also bemoaning her untimely exit from school,  Bidemi Akintayo,  said:  “I stopped going to school because my parents  lost their means of livelihood and couldn’t pay my bills in the school anymore. They have nothing to fall back on since they both lost their means of livelihood. This has made life unbearable for the entire family. The priority for them is how we can manage to eat a square meal in a day. For all they care, education is secondary because survival is the primary concern here.

    “I tried registering at public schools but the money wasn’t there to do the initial registration. I want to go back to school. My frustration right now is that my chance of seeing the four walls of classroom is remote. I don’t know what next I will do with my life because I don’t want to marry yet not to talk of becoming a single mother that will be living miserably with the baby.I have seen what my friends in that condition going through hell. I don’t want that to happen to me. I have the ambition of going to the university and it would be a lifetime dent if I don’t fulfill that dream.”

    The visibly disturbed teenager added: “I have been out of school for more than a year and managing the little my parents  provide for me because I don’t want my life to be messed up like that of many friends and colleagues of mine. I can’t count the number of my friends and other girls in the neighbourhood that their lives have taken the turn for the worse after they were impregnated by hooligans. Some of them are now hungry single mothers who survive by prostituting. Prostitution is the only means by which they could fend for themselves and their babies since they have no capital to to start any business.

    “Some of the girls who do not want to be seen as prostitutes keep a multiple boyfriends who they sleep with and get peanuts to take care of themselves and their babies. Some of them sleep with men for as low as N500 without even protecting themselves. This is why the scourge of HIV is prevalent here. After seeing the hardship that these single mothers pass through taking care of themselves and their babies, some other girls deliberately  dump their unwanted new born babies in canals and bush paths where pigs eat them up. They do it early in the morning to prevent people from rescuing the babies. It is on a few occasions that  people pick up such children and hand them over to the appropriate authorities.

    For Emmanuel Okoro,  leaving school at an early age now comes with the burden of hustling to  support the family.  The  15-year-old said that he  stopped going to school when he  was in the Junior Secondary School (JSS).  Today, he washes dish in a local restaurant to augment  what the parents provide for the upkeep of the family.

    “I wish to continue with my education but my parents don’t have the resources to train me. I wash plates at a local restaurant  and get paid between N600 and N700 every day. I don’t keep the money or spend it. I always hand everything I get  over to my mother to support the family. I don’t know how long I will do this because there is no hope of better tomorrow. Darkness is all I can see since my education that would have  helped me to be enlightened and empowered is jeopardised. I have always had low self-esteem since I stopped going to school.

    ‘’This is worse when students of my age mates come to buy food at the canteen and ask me to help them wash their plates. I feel humiliated doing this but I must do it to get paid at the end of the day. If I were going to school, they wouldn’t have had the opportunity of asking me to do such. I really feel bad when I see children like me going to school and talking about how they will become one thing or the other in life. I also want to go back to school and would be glad if anybody could come to my help before my brain rusts.”

    The case of Ogba Mary, a mother of four, also triggers emotions. None of her  children has ever gone to school or has any hope of going to  school anytime soon. Besides,  the whereabouts of the husband who could have been supporting the family is unknown . So, the wife and the children depend on whatever they get from kind-hearted people.

    “My first child is six years old and she has never gone to school. It is the same thing with the second and third who are four  and two years respectively. The fourth one is just a few days old. For a very long time now the father has abandoned the family. We don’t know his whereabouts and he doesn’t even bother to call to know how we are coping. I am a petty trader and I must confess that what I get from the business is not enough to feed myself not to talk of feeding the children. I depend largely on what I get from people to take care of my children. When help comes, we eat and when we get nobody to help us, we manage whatever we get.

    “With this, you can see that education is the last thing that I will concern myself with. i am worried about it but there is nothing that I can do to  solve the problem now. If God wishes, they will later go to school. But I want them to go to school because the world has no place for illiterates again. If I didnt get better than my parents,

    I want them to be better than I am and education is actually a key to this.”

    One of the women leaders in the community who identified herself simply as Kemi noted that little children in the community are not spared by the sexual perverts in the area. “The female children are not finding life easy in the community at all. The female children that I am talking about include children as little as one year and two years old. If your little baby is not within your vicinity  for five minutes, you can be sure that some heartless men have taken her to one corner and forcing their fingers into their private parts.

    “It is  a regular occurrence here and I can tell you that the security operatives here are always inundated with the reports. This happens majorly because the children don’t go to school and always roam about. If they were in school, such depraved men will not see them let alone having the opportunity of sexually abusing them.”

    If that is the case for little female children, Kemi said  the situation is worse for  the older ones.

    “They (the older ones)  are raped from time to time and put in the family way without anybody helping them. The rapists invade their tents at night and rape them at will. The touts don’t rape older women. They only use dangerous weapons to attack and rob them of their valuables. But they rape the younger ones. Some of the touts even come from outside this community because they know the girls have no shelter and defenseless.

    ‘’This is why many of the girls have contracted HIV. Health workers are not unaware of the kind of sodomic practices here and that is why they come here on a regular basis to test the children. In the course of carrying out tests on the children, a number of them have tested positive to HIV and once this is discovered, such children are taken to the hospital for medical care. It is a worrisome development we have at hand and we hope something can be done to rescue us.  The education of the children should be given the urgent attention it requires to save their future and that of the society.”

    The males that dropped out of school, according to her, have started taking to all manners of vices. “Some of them have taken to drug abuse, petty stealing and gambling. Some of  them even sell hard drugs. You can see them all over the place. From there, they will grow to become hardened criminals. It is only a few of them that are God-fearing that do odd jobs such as picking condemned metals to sell. Some are now bus conductors because they have to fend for themselves since their parents can’t train them in school anymore. This is a time bomb waiting to explode. The only solution is for the children to return to school and have a sense of belonging in the society,” she  said.

     

  • NANS again! (1)

    This is my seventh article on the National Association of Nigerian Students (NANS) in two years. Expending time and energy is a reflection of how concerned I am about student unionism in the country. Within the period, I have had both physical and phone discussions with past and present leaders of the students’ body. In one of our discussions, I made an elaborate presentation on how they can put their house in order and produce a formidable association whose voice can be heard and respected in the nation.

    Their voices – alongside that of lecturers – need to be heard so that policy makers would be guided in providing direction for tertiary education. Unfortunately, that has not been the case for years now because students do not have a unified voice due to rudderless leadership.

    My intervention partially paid off during the leadership of Tijani Usman when dissenting voices were, at least, reduced to a tolerable level and the association had a semblance of peace after the gale of spurious endorsements of politicians of all hues and shades. That “peace” was however shattered during the just concluded 31st National Convention held in Gombe, Gombe State which was initially postponed three times.

    The convention was scheduled to be a four-day affair but ended abruptly following heavy gun shots, yes; you read right, gunshots at the venue of the convention. This newspaper aptly captured it as “Wild, wild NANS” in our story last week.

    What transpired at the Gombe convention is a clear reflection of how low we have sank as a nation; and to imagine that these crop of undergraduates are the once some often tout as “leaders of tomorrow” will bring tears to the eyes of anyone who wishes this country well.

    Rather than unify the student body, the convention ended up producing two presidents just like the 26th convention in Uyo, Akwa Ibom State produced three presidents; Yinka Gbadebo of Obafemi Awolowo University (OAU), Ile Ife, Adelu Monehim James also of OAU and Prince Miaphen of Adekunle Ajasin University. The Gombe convention produced Tonye Tom-George of University of Port Harcourt (UNIPORT) and Chinonso Ubasi of Ebonyi State University (EBSU) in Abakaliki. Each claimed the NANS presidency. How this was done reminds me of our unique democracy some years back.

    As a result of the “inconclusive” convention, one of the candidates, Tonye Tom-George, and his “delegates” relocated to Abuja where a “peaceful election” was conducted with him declared the winner. Sounds familiar? You bet it does. Remember how some state Houses of Assembly often relocate to Abuja to impeach their speakers or governors? It is now clear that our undergraduates were actually watching with keen interests and we have seen that they have turned out to be good students of history.

    The drama did not end there. After gunshots had chased most delegates away, Chinonso Ubasi – who also goes by the nickname “IBB – and his “delegates” later convened at the same venue where a “credible and peaceful” election was held with him also declared the next NANS president.

    To also show that they are equally good students of history, Chinonso and his “team” reportedly visited Governor Ibrahim Dankwambo of Gombe State, who congratulated him. As reported in our story, the convention delegates – who are Students’ Union leaders on their campuses – described Chinonso’s action as shocking. Expectedly, they declared his purported election null and void, because it was not a product of the NANS convention.

    Why did the convention go awry? It all started with the appointment of Prince Miaphen as the convention chairman. Most of the delegates kicked against his appointment because he serves as the campaign chairman of one of the contestants, Kadiri Aruna of the Ambrose Alli University (AAU) in Ekpoma, Edo State.

    It was not surprising that other candidates and their supporters rejected Prince’s nomination on the ground that he could not be a neutral arbiter; in essence, he cannot chair an election in which his candidate was a contestant. Prince, they argued, lacked the moral right to organise a free and fair election. This was the point when gunshots were fired and other dangerous weapons used to scare delegates away. Instructively, none of the candidates for president was nominated before the violence broke out.

    Feelers I got were that the convention was deliberately made to fail with the aim of creating a constitutional crisis which will benefit some interests deep into NANS politics. For instance, was there a grand plan to have an inconclusive election so that an “acting” president can take over? If this is not the case, why would officials not arrive at a common ground and slate a new date for another convention since this one was marred by violence?

    From my standpoint, I do not think it was fair for Prince Miaphen to be the convention chairman since he was the campaign manager to one of the contestants. I cast my mind back to the highly controversial tenure of Yinka Gbadebo when a similar incident took place in Jos, Plateau State between Gbadebo and supporters of Miaphen when Gbadebo went on his “thank you” tour to plateau and neighbouring states after emerging NANS president.

    According to our report last week, Miaphen has already sent a petition to the Federal Government not to recognise Chinonso as NANS president. In the petition sent through the Senior Special Assistant to President Muhammadu Buhari on Youth and Students’ Matter, Nasir Adama, he said there is a vacuum in NANS and that the association has not elected anyone as its president.

    Copies of the petition were sent to the ministers of Education, Youth and Sports Development, Executive Secretary of the National Universities Commission (NUC), Committee of Vice-Chancellors (CVC) and the media. The petition “advised” Adama and the federal agencies to arrest and prosecute anyone parading himself as NANS president.

    In a counter allegation, Chinonso’s camp accused the outgoing NANS president, Tijani Usman of masterminding the violence. Tijani, it was alleged, wanted to impose his “preferred candidates” on the association. A peace meeting called at the instance of the outgoing president in Abuja, I was told ended in fisticuffs. This is where student unionism in Nigeria stands today.

    In my article “Time to rejig NANS” last year, I did mention that it is saddening that undergraduates could not provide a coherent voice in the run up to the 2015 elections. Other than the gale of suspicious and spurious endorsements of some candidates, the “students” could not even produce a position paper to their preferred candidates on what they desire for the education sector should the candidates win. Just like the society they live in, our students were mainly concerned with the candidates that can haul in the largest amount of cash. This cash for endorsement strategy further factionalised an already distressed association.

    What a sad commentary for an association that produced the likes of late Segun Okeowo, Chris Abashi, Akintunde Ojo, Chima Ubani, Chris Mammah and a host of other leaders with foresight. For those old enough to remember the military era, they will recollect the part the National Union of Nigerian Students (NUNS), the precursor of NANS, and later NANS itself played in giving the military authorities’ sleepless nights, sometimes at the detriment of their personal safety.

    Back then, student unionism was ideologically driven with release of detailed and intelligent analysis of the state of the nation and regular communique that are deep with insight and knowledge, not the shallow and apologetic statements that we see from the stable of representatives of Nigerian students these days.

    Where did they derail and what are the lessons to be learnt? I will provide answers to these and many more questions and proffer solutions for the way forward for NANS include holding future foolproof, credible and acceptable elections.

  • The missing government papers (1)

    How my aunt, Dr. Madeline Berah, the renowned scientist or Aunt Deline as I called her, expected to be rich while working to be poor, I’ll never know. For one thing, she was a teacher, which meant she did not earn much. For another, she often had flights of fancy that made her use the little she earned in several, unprofitable schemes.

    Once, she had an idea to make note pads with funny little writings on them. Only, it was not to make money but to amuse her friends. Another time, she threw herself into making little furniture pieces with painted patterns on them. Again, it wasn’t to make money but to give out as gifts.

    She had endless schemes like those that not only did not make her rich but actually made her poorer. Every attempt to make her see the uselessness of these ventures fell flat. No one can take the place of providence in her life, she always said; God takes care of his wee little sparrows.

    Travelling through life unconventionally like this, she managed somehow to make it into her sixties. But there she was, one day hard at her teaching post, the next called into the  office of the registrar of the city’s only university, University of Beamtown, shown her file, and asked to hand in her letter of retirement. I don’t think it ever occurred to her she could ever live long enough to be out of work!

    The bigger problem was, she said, she could not for her life recount where the years of her youth went. She insisted it was certainly not while she was having fun; she had been too busy teaching. So, the retirement had caught her by surprise. She had not finished fine-tuning her retirement plans, even though she had been on it for ten years. She needed just a few more years to bring it to maturity, like another ten. Exactly what she planned to do though, I have not been privileged to know.

    You must get this right. I loved my dear aunt, but our relationship was based on mutual respect. I respected her grey hairs, sagacity and sometimes … I don’t want to use the word ‘quaint’ … let’s say ‘different’ ways. In return, she was kind to me: she did not hold my youth against me. She even deferred to my views many times! Actually, that’s how I came to know that I could be taken to be intelligent. Her deference boosted my confidence in class no end, and that made me carry myself with something akin to pride. True, it gave occasion to some envious schoolmates to talk behind my back, but honestly, other than that, I don’t think you can hold me guilty of any other crime.

    I had a carte blanche to visit her before and after my holidays, and since I was schooling in the same university she used to teach in, also during the school days. So, I was, for all practical purposes, her wanted guest throughout the year. That meant of course that I fed on her. In return, I became her confidant, daughter, secretary, recorder, cleaner, cook, and generally in charge of a lot of things, such as the one she bounced ideas off, on and into. That is how I come to be able to tell you her story or stories, dear reader. She did nothing without passing it by me.

    Don’t get me wrong, Aunt Deline was a fiercely independent woman, stubborn even. She was so independent she refused to marry, promising to break the head of one suitor should he have the temerity to repeat his suit, as I heard, and to drown another if he so much as breathed to a soul that she ever allowed him to kiss her. I took her deferring to my opinions as a measure of her regard for me, her only sister’s daughter.

    When I arrived fresh from a dull holiday at my parents’ rather more placid existence in Pere town somewhere in the middle part of the country, I found Aunt Deline on the landing, in front of the flat, talking with the inspector’s wife. The flat directly above my aunt’s was rented by Inspector Gogo, a very friendly policeman with a ‘criminal record’. His crime? He had a sense of humour. Luckily, he had an equally friendly family to share it with. Seriously, he was also a good source of the city’s crime records.

    Obviously, the policeman was not in, but his wife was in as I could hear her conversing with my aunt on the landing as I struggled up the staircase with my luggage.

    ‘How are you, Mrs. Gogo? Is your husband in?’

    ‘No, he has gone out.’

    ‘On duty?’

    ‘No, to work. Are you fine, Mama? Yesterday, we did not see you at all.’

    ‘Ah, no problem, Mrs. Gogo. I went somewhere and came back late.’

    ‘All right. I will tell him you called.’

    ‘Thank you. Do you know if he brought yesterday’s newspaper home?’

    ‘Yes’, and the woman promptly went back inside to retrieve it. It was The Manifest.

    When my aunt descended the staircase and saw me, she did not help me with any of my baggage. That wasn’t her way.

    ‘If you persist in going around like a pilgrim, then you should be prepared to carry your sins on your back,’ was her only encouragement to me. I assured her I could cope as I had remission of sins to look forward to. She grunted and went back into our flat. At least she held the door open for me.

    One of the perks of living in our block was living alongside Inspector Gogo. He and his family made life tolerable for us by their friendliness and his frequent bouts of head butting with Aunt Deline and kindness to me. I enjoyed both sides of him and that made me sympathise with those who had really ugly neighbours. It could make one want to commit suicide.

    More importantly, he was an unending source of stories on crime and criminals. His stories were so astounding that I could not believe that this city of Keriba could hide such murk beneath it while appearing so calm on the surface. Worse, they brought out all kinds of emotions in me. At first, the stories incited so much fear in me I became too afraid to even move around at all. Then they made me so indignant I felt like thrusting out into the underworld, where it is said that low life criminals move and live and have their being, and incinerating them all. Then, I gradually found myself looking forward to his visits to our flat, because each visit meant new stories. Just when the change took place I cannot tell, but one day, I actually became interested in the stories. And the more salacious they were, the more interesting.

    We heard stories about the murder of a young girl committed in broad day light while her mother was away in the market; about some government papers stolen from some official’s house in the night; of some people unhappy with the government and blowing up pipelines just to show it; of oil workers who were white men kidnapped by hooligans; of rich and poor people’s family members kidnapped for ransom; of political figures assassinated in several ways  bombs delivered to their houses, armed thugs degutting them, or plain old fashioned straight shooting …

    As time went on, I found that the inspector was not merely recounting the stories for our listening benefits. Often, Aunt Deline’s questions or contributions provided him with angles that he probably had not thought of before. She was his sounding board, just as I was hers.

    As I unpacked and settled in, Aunt Deline settled down to read the newspaper, mumbling something about needing to see the situations vacant columns.

    ‘Look’, she showed me a story headline. ‘The state is planning to start its own university in the next six months. That’s better than nothing. Not a full time employment but it should keep body and soul together.’