The Nation Newspaper

Tag: missing

  • Student goes missing

    A student of Olabisi Onabanjo University in Ago-Iwoye, Ogun State, Mayowa Emmanuel Olamijulo, has been declared missing. The 300-Level student of the Department of Geophysics left home on March 27, and has not been seen since then.

    Mayowa was said to have boarded a bus from Ibadan to Ago-Iwoye, after his father dropped him off at Iwo Road bus station. He was declared missing when he could not be reached hours after and his mobile phone was switched off.

    His father, Mr Olamijulo, confirmed to our reporter on telephone that he dropped the missing student at the motor park, noting that he was yet to hear from him.

    The worried father went to the school to look for his son, but Mayowa was not found in his hostel.

    Mr Olamijulo said he had gone to the office of Federal Road Safety Corps (FRSC) to confirm if there was accident on the route, but said there was nothing of such.

    Office of Dean of Students Affairs urged members of the public to contact the father on 07031937092 if missing student is found. Mayowa is a students’ leader and constituency leader at the Faculty of Science.

  • A missing heart

    Missing person! The words on the poster drew your truly closer. The photograph of the lady is simply breathtaking, a missing beauty; would certainly make any heart skip a bit. The words and the face conjure all kinds of images and you are in wonderland. What could have happened to this beauty?  Was she kidnapped by a beast(s)? How could she just vanish into thin air without imagining the pain her disappearing act would cause.

    Dead or alive, the truth of the matter here is that she is deeply missed. This reminds yours truly of a missing heart, like people hearts can be missing. So what kind of heart are we likely to miss? you ask. A sweet heart is a jolly good fellow, someone who brings sunshine (love) into your world, a heart that radiates joy and one who spreads love in megadoses and there certainly is never a dull moment.

    A missing heart is a lost heart. It is over but somehow you just cannot let go. The more you want to forget and move on, it keeps creeping back but there is a lot of uncertainty here. Searching for the missing comes with tales of frustration. The missing person who ran away must have escaped from something or someone, a partner who is aggressive, selfish or non-challant about your feelings.

    Well, somehow you cannot be judgmental on the emotional corridor; for many it’s the gambling arena. Sometimes you put in an emotional coin and sweep the stakes. As a winner, your smile is everywhere and you are likely to attract more hearts. Everybody loves a winner and you may just be overwhelmed by the level of attention you are getting here and there. You are in the season of love and the best thing to do is to put on your thinking cap and not the emotional cap. If you do not make the best of the emotional coupons, you may just waste them

    Unfortunately, there are times when you put in all your savings and walk out without a dime.

    As you think about the possibilities, you heart continues to sink.

    Two close pals who knew her story came to the rescue. That babe ran away. No, this can’t be. How can anyone run away from an environment where the hearts around ‘appear’ to be so loving? Imagine the cost of producing those bright-coloured posters; imagine the number of people to be contacted if our dear friend is found. They really care, don’t they?

    Forget about the bright-coloured poster and the effect created about a heart that is being missed.

    What actually happened was the case of a missing heart. Her heart left a long time ago. Whatever you are feeling comes from a cumulative effect of your feelings and how you feel for the other person. The vibes from your emotions cannot be compared to the effects you get from a solo instrument; instead you get better like a choir or an orchestra with several voices. So at every phase in your relationship, you have got to ask yourself pertinent questions about what your mind is saying, what your heart is saying as well as what your gut is saying.

    This is very interesting because there are times when your heart says you have found love but somewhere along the line your mind is warning you about the consequence and more.

    The crux of the matter here is that we must learn how to build the right kind of relationship. We must strive to make those who think we love happy and have memories that linger. The big question, however, is how many of us have learnt how to build loving relationships? If we have done this, then it is important to make use of the essentials and allow others to appreciate what we are enjoying in our relationships.

    As you take a look around, you find that there is an art and science to building strong relationships. The first type is to create a safe environment, a place where trust is key and lovebirds are free to share ideas and not allow one person’s interests to dominate the other. No, it isn’t always a smooth ride and there would certainly be days when you need to shout and get angry. Yes, there are days when the emotional battle line is drawn, but, again, when you get to this emotional crossroads, it is better to fight fairly. Of course, for many it is almost impossible to get to anger zone and still maintain some level of sanity.

    Interestingly, you can do this by making your points and addressing the areas that you want to see changes. To do this effectively, there should be no name calling, don’t make threats and it is also very important to apologise when you know you should.

    However, if things get really bad and out of hand, then you are likely to get too angry to really listen. If your emotions have really gone down the drain, then it is better to take a break, give yourself some space and calm down.

  • OBJ’s missing guests

    OBJ’s missing guests

    It was inevitable that a deluge of stirring tributes and a contagion of saccharin smiles would pervade the unveiling last weekend of Chief Olusegun Obasanjo’s latest monument, the Presidential Library in Abeokuta, Ogun State, to mark his “estimated” 80th birthday.

    Doubtless, OBJ’s odyssey in the past sixty years is intricately woven into the nation’s own trajectory, as acting President Yemi Osinbajo pithily observed. But hard as family, friends and fans tried at the august occasion, the avalanche of eulogies still cannot, in all honesty, obscure certain truths.

    Justice is hardly done anyone desirous of fully isolating the facts and contexts of that segment of our recent history. Especially those still too young to understand things at the time of such momentous happenings.

    Out of charity, let us even evade the propriety or otherwise of a sitting president literally using incumbency factor to arm-twist state governors (as already attested to by Governor Ayo Fayose of Ekiti) and business tycoons into parting with a whopping N6b (then $45m circa) for an undertaking that is entirely personal.

    It is in the curious absences that day of some national figures who yet graced the fundraiser twelve years ago (and some of whose paths had also significantly crossed OBJ’s during his life journey) that some of the missing links of the said narrative will undoubtedly be found.

    The circumstances of their epic falling out should then offer some illumination on the other dimension of the OBJ enigma.

    Clearly the most notable among the absentees last weekend was General T Y Danjuma. In the power triumvirate that evolved after Murtala Mohammed’s assassination in 1976, Danjuma was the third leg (Army chief), the second being Musa Yar’Adua and OBJ as commander-in-chief. Upon OBJ’s release from Abacha’s gulag in June 1998, his erstwhile Army commander was among a power oligarchy that offered him quick rehabilitation and virtually railroaded him back to power on May 29, 1999 as civilian president.

    While deploying his awesome financial warchest ahead of the February 1999 presidential polls in support of an old comrade, Danjuma famously declared “I will go on exile if Obasanjo loses.” At inception of the Obasanjo administration, the Taraba-born General came out of political retirement by accepting the draft as Defence minister.

    But six years later, their relationship had deteriorated so irreparably that Danjuma would sensationally declare, “I will throw Daisy out of my house if she voted for a Third Term for Obasanjo.” As a parting shot at the twilight of OBJ’s second term in 2007, he unequivocally told an interviewer that “Aremu of Ota deserves another term in jail.” Whatever happened to the old brotherhood, the camaraderie forged during a grisly civil war to keep Nigeria one?

    An account has it that after Danjuma was dropped as Defence minister, OBJ rubbed salt on his wound by tampering with his Sapetro oil bloc considered the source of his fabulous wealth. Neither lost on anyone at the launching was the absence of Abubakar Atiku.

    Yet, the Turaki Adamawa was his deputy for eight years, with their relationship particularly tumultuous from the beginning of the second term. When the going was good, OBJ used to refer to his deputy affectionately as “my hand bag”.

    After a longdrawn murky fight, both ended in 2007 mutually bruised with the shameful distinction of constituting what is now commonly identified as the most acrimonious presidency in Nigeria’s history. Nor could anyone have also failed to notice Aliyu Gusau’s absence.

    The General had literally anchored the high-level mission that paved OBJ’s way from prison to presidency in 1999. He was named the National Security Adviser immediately Obasanjo took over.

    But few years down the line, the duo had become so estranged that the commander-in-chief was rumoured to have resorted to offering covert support to opposition governor in Zamfara State then to whittle down Gusau’s influence at home.

    We also did not sight Ibrahim Mantu at the event. At the height of OBJ’s imperial presidency, the senator from Plateau State was his key ally in the upper chamber and, as deputy senate president, widely seen as the arrowhead of the powerful lobby to ram the Third Term pill down the throats of other senators.

    In fond recognition of his past exploits, he was often hailed as “the magician” in OBJ’s inner cycle. Curiously, during an outing recently, the same Mantu allowed himself to be publicly introduced and complimented as “one of the key strategists that killed Third Term” at the senate in 2006. No less illustrious on the absentees’ list was Dr. Mike Adenuga Jnr. At the 2005 fundraiser for the Presidential Library, the Globacom boss shelled out N200m (then roughly $1.5m).

    The next moment, there was a rumour of some grumbling on the high table that the sum was “too small”. Few months later, the EFCC was viciously unleashed on the businessman over what events have proved to be nothing but a witch-hunt.

    Even when the dust raised by the EFCC arrest had not settled, OBJ, according to Awujale’s memoirs, still did not consider it inappropriate to invite embattled Adenuga over and, during a car ride together, allegedly asked him to donate an edifice to his private university in Ota. Equally missing in action was Chief Tony Anenih, the now retired political godfather of Edo. At the fundraiser in 2005, Anenih topped the list of PDP bigwigs who turned up to give Baba “moral support”.

    Earlier in his reign as civilian president, Anenih was the key sorcerer OBJ relied on to navigate the treacherous waters of party politics as “Mr. Fix It”. But he did not hesitate to trade in the Uromi-born chief for Atiku Abubakar to support his second term bid in 2003.

    He was booted out as Works minister. After several months in the “wilderness”, the retired old cop eventually found rehabilitation as chairman of PDP’s Board of Trustees.

    But in his desperation to wangle for himself relevance, no matter how illicit, after his third term adventure came to grief, OBJ masterminded the change of the pre-qualification for the BoT chair in a manner that clinically stripped Anenih bare.

    Before the old cop could figure out the hand that dealt him the sucker punch, OBJ had been coronated PDP’s new BoT chair. Put differently, he practically “stole” Anenih’s “pot of soup” (apologies Tom Ikimi). That marked the final dissolution of a political partnership that had weathered many dirty wars in eight heady years.

    Once, when Anenih was invited to lead the prayers after Umar Yar’Adua had taken over in Aso Rock and began to cut off OBJ’s apron strings, he reportedly started by beseeching God in heaven to furnish the new landlord the enablement “to clear the mess he inherited”.

    Of course, the missile could only be meant for OBJ. Momentarily, not a few among the supplicants present were said to have opened their eyes to exchange alarmed glances while Anenih intensified his ministration.

    Trust OBJ never to allow any dart or slight pass without exacting a pound of flesh. Once Comrade Adams Oshiomhole meted a humiliating defeat to the PDP godfather in the July 14, 2012 governorship polls in Edo State, Baba would soon made a stop-over at the Government House in Benin to pat then opposition governor on the back for “a job well done”.

    Truly, bizarre are the ways of the “Ebora” (strange creature) of Owuland.

  • Septuagenarian’s sleepless nights linger over missing son, 45

    Septuagenarian’s sleepless nights linger over missing son, 45

    A 70-YEAR-OLD woman, Mrs Adijat Balogun, said she has been having sleepless nights since the disappearance of his son, Ibrahim Balogun, 21 days ago.

    The missing Balogun, 45, is an Accountant at CHI Farm in Ajao Estate, Isolo, Lagos.

    The Kogi-born Balogun is dark in complexion; he speaks Ibira, Yoruba and English languages fluently.

    He was said to have left his Ketu Alapere home for work on October 4 and has since then not returned home.

    Mrs Balogun said she has being crying and unable to sleep since then.

    “I saw him last on Monday, October 3, while he was washing clothes, I packed his clothes for him in the evening and we told each other good night. That was the last time I saw my son,” she said in tears.

    Mrs Balogun noted that it was when some of his colleagues came to ask after her son that she discovered he was missing.

    She said: “His colleagues came to my house around 6pm, wanting to know why he did not come to work. It was then I realised he was missing. I taught he went to work but they told me they didn’t see him. They said he was always the first to get to the office, and that was why they came asking after him, thinking he was sick.

    “We have all tried our best to find him, but all to no avail. We have forced the door to his room open but we didn’t see any trace. My children have reported to the police but we are yet to see him.

    “We have checked the places that he usually goes to. He is not married, he has no friend, except for Sunday and Sunday is aware of the incident. I am tired, help me.

    “I have not received any call requesting for ransom for his release, assuming he was abducted. I don’t even have any money to pay.”

    She described her son as an easy-going man who will not go anywhere without telling her.

    A neighbour, Florence Olaniran, described the missing Balogun as a man that does not cause trouble neither does he quarrel with anyone.

    She said: “He has a soft heart. He does not womanise and he has no friend.”

    Blogun’s nephew Hassan Balogun said that they have searched everywhere including, hospitals, mortuary and other public places but did not see him.

    He said he has been in trauma over his missing nephew.

  • Madeline Berah, the African Detective in the missing government papers (9)

    Unfortunately, my sister blamed me. She said I used juju to take her son’s star and distribute it among my children; that’s why they are now doing fine and her son is languishing.

    ‘After trying everything I could, I finally got him a job in another ministry hoping he would build a career and rise on the job. But he got involved with a bad group and started misbehaving, stealing and all that, and he got sacked. I decided to bring him here right under my nose so I could keep an eye on him. So, I came to you sir and you gave him a job, and now a fine job I seem to have done. What am I going to do? If he goes to prison, what am I going to tell the mother?’ She started to cry again.

    Aunt Deline was grieved. She hated to see a woman cry.

    ‘Don’t worry, the permanent secretary will be magnanimous. He will not press charges.’

    The permanent secretary sighed and agreed that he would not; he wanted to keep the matter quiet anyway. But the young man must recount how he got hold of the papers because he, the permanent secretary, thought he guarded it jealously enough.

    After a lot of coaxing, the cleaner opened his mouth and explained.

    ‘I had been present when the paper was brought to the office by the boy sent to deliver it. The secretary, my aunt, had not seen the contents of the envelope before she went to the restroom. While she was away, I quickly looked in the envelope and decided that the papers were very important so I just bid my time.

    ‘Whenever I cleaned the office, I noticed that Oga would make sure his briefcase was near his feet just behind his desk. So, I just watched for the times he went to the toilet and how long he spent there. One day, I saw him go to the toilet because the door was slightly open and my aunt was not around, and since I knew the shape, size and colour of the envelope, it was not difficult for me to get it within half a minute. Before he came out, I had done what I wanted to do and was already back on my seat pretending to sleep when he came to see if anyone was waiting for him here.’

    ‘But why did you take it?’ his aunt asked in exasperation.

    ‘I saw the gambling receipts. They were more important than the other papers. I was going to sell them back to the owner.’

    The inspector spoke. ‘Do you know that blackmail is a criminal offence?’

    ‘And supposing the man killed you instead of paying you? What then?’ his aunt asked again.

    Aunt Deline stood up. It was our cue. ‘I think our job here is done. We should allow the good permanent secretary to get on with his job.’

    The permanent secretary stood up too. ‘I know that if I asked you how you knew that the envelope was on the young man, you would not tell me. But at least let me pay you.’

    ‘Oh, I don’t mind telling you’, replied Aunt Deline. ‘I was not expecting anyone to be ‘wearing’ the papers; I was expecting to have to lift up every carpet in the place or go through the toilets, but I was prepared to be surprised anyhow so I paid attention to everything.

    ‘When the cleaner came in, I noticed that the left side of the front of his jacket was infinitesimally more swollen than the other side.

    ‘And I was prepared to find it with someone else, not him. It was when you mentioned the cleaner that it hit me, fool that I was. I don’t mind confessing that I very nearly missed that. Thanks. It just shows that we all live and learn.

    ‘As for payment, I must tell you that while I do not accept money as a rule, I am not above accepting favours, which I will mention when my niece and the good inspector and your secretary leave us alone. By the way, (turning to the secretary) what your nephew requires is the service of a good psychoanalyst. I will give you a recommendation to a good friend of mine.’

    With that, the inspector and I left the office. I cannot report what favour Aunt Deline asked the permanent secretary but I certainly hoped it would concern her job. The next week, however, a large crate containing an inverter with a two and a half KvH capacity was delivered to our flat. This meant not only did we have a power source for me to do my reading, the fridge and the fans in the flat could be powered without the accompanying stress or noise that generators give.

    More importantly, Aunt Deline received a personal call that day from the manager of the electricity company apologising for the ‘crazy bill his boys’ had forwarded to her flat, and that she should discountenance them. I think she did not need a second invitation.

    When I asked Aunt Deline just how she had arm-twisted the poor permanent secretary, she only said that the man was very lucky, he could have lost his job. In that case, someone needed to be providentially placed to receive his gratitude. Who better than us?, she asked.

    When I also asked her why she had not asked him to connect her for a job at the proposed university, however, she brushed me off. ‘Let us live one day at a time, right?’ I marvelled at her. Once again, she had put my need to study ahead of her even more important need for a job!

    In the evening, when the inspector came to visit, he informed us that the permanent secretary never did find out the person that sent the papers to him; maybe a disgruntled fellow gambler, who knows? Most importantly, the permanent secretary had been able to tell the governor that the press reports were not true, and nothing was missing from his office. Also, the senior director concerned in the story had been dismissed from service on the basis of the incriminating evidence.

    ‘Now,’ said Aunt Deline, ‘he can become a full-time gambler. People who do not know the worth of their job do not deserve to keep it.’

    ‘Yes,’ agreed the inspector, ‘work is sacred. The work you do is a huge responsibility that you owe the country, your fellowmen and your maker. Through your effective work, you send a message to nature that the human society should continue. This is why nature hates the disruptions that come through ineffective work. Talking of effectiveness, how were you able to deduce so that the envelope was in the vicinity?

    ‘I paid attention. I told you that you must think cyclically. Let me tell you, in cases of this sort, it’s often the little things that count the most. While everyone was looking up at the most important things about the case  where the permanent secretary had been that day, what he did or did not do, the strength of the briefcase, etc., — I was more interested in the little things and one visit to this place assured me of all I wanted to know.’

    ‘And what was that?’

    ‘The psychological state of the secretary. If I had found her inscrutable, it would have deepened my suspicion of her further. But I found her rude, but sad and in pain. So, I knew that one, she probably did not take the papers, and two, she had her suspicion of who did. When I found her at her filing cabinet, I believed she thought the thief had hidden it there and she was hoping to surprise him. Poor lady; how was she to know the extent to which her nephew had degenerated?

    ‘So, if she did not take it, then who did?, I asked myself. I did notice an extra desk in her office on which there was no computer or anything. The table was small, dark brown, glossy from being so dirty and used, and wobbly. There were other chairs around it but the accompanying chair was even more wobbly and its leather well worn in the seat. Also, the carpentry seemed to have weakened so that the chair sagged down and the packing under it gaped. I believe that gaping hole made a perfect initial hiding place for the thief. This meant that whoever took it shared the office with the secretary.

    ‘I did not have time to find out who that person was, that first time. I thought however that if the envelope had not been moved, I would likely find it under that chair when we would come back based on one principle.’

    ‘What principle is that?’

    ‘The principle that says the best place to hide anything is in plain sight. How was I to know that providence had an even better illustration of that dogma for us? Child, is that bottle of wine in the fridge cold yet? Please bring it and let us all ‘wash’ this new source of electricity that the country is forcing me to live with.’

    On the veranda, under the watchful eyes of the stars, we three sat and drank the California wine. When I say drank, I exaggerate. Aunt Deline poured me a generous amount that could not even satiate an ant while the two adults proceeded to get to the bottom of why the electricity situation of the country was so bad. This discourse also led them to the bottom of the bottle; but I was content to listen, as always.

  • Madeline Berah, the African Detective in the missing government papers (8)

    To everyone’s surprise, when she reached him, she put her arms around him, as if giving him a tight hug. The man was more surprised that we were but that was for a few seconds. Suddenly, however, she began to pull at something in his clothing. When he seemed to realise what she was about, he began to try to pull himself out of her embrace.

    Have I told you that once Aunt Deline gets hold of something, she is worse than a hungry tiger holding on to its prey to make sure its lunch does not escape? No? Well, you must know now that Aunt Deline would as soon wrestle with a lion over his prey if she felt he had no right to it as she would punch a man in the nose for insulting her.

    When she gets like that, I usually look for the nearest exit because her punches have had previous habits of falling irreverently on anyone who gets between her and her target. I have been an unwary recipient before. Before our very eyes today, however, her embrace transmuted to a struggle to hold on; but the more she struggled, the more the cleaner tried to pull out.

    Nearing exhaustion, Aunt Deline cried out, ‘Don’t just sit there all of you, help me hold this man down. He has the papers!’

    Hearing that, the two men rushed upon them just as the secretary came in and within minutes the man was on the carpet. While the men had the man pinned down, Aunt Deline was stripping him of his French suit. She started with the trousers. I tried to look away because I thought she was going to be taking off his briefs next. When I looked again though, she had removed his short-sleeved jacket and was feeling all over it. There, from right inside the front lining, she pulled out a long brown envelope. Everyone gasped as they left off holding the struggling man.

    The permanent secretary held out his hands for the envelope. Trembling all over, he brought out the contents and checked them one after the other. The look he gave us was both exultant and triumphant.

    ‘Everything is intact,’ he said in wonderment. Then he sat down heavily on his chair again and looked at Aunt Deline with reverence. ‘Madam, you have saved me and my career today!’

    By now, the cleaner, who had been full of valiant struggles a minute before, was sitting hunched up on the carpet, face down and refusing to look at anyone. The secretary, who had come in while the struggle was on, took a seat near him and draped his shoulders with his jacket.

    When all was calm again, the permanent secretary had a look of awe on his face but he spoke quietly.

    ‘How did you know?’

    Aunt Deline answered. ‘I didn’t. I was sure that the papers were in the office, but I at first thought that the secretary had them. However, when I spoke with her, I did not see a woman hardened by crime but I saw a face in pain. When I surprised her in the office the first time I was here, I thought she was either deeply unfriendly or deeply troubled. Even now, I am not sure what the source of her pain is as it cannot be just the papers.’

    The secretary sighed. ‘Ma, it is the papers. I was also worried about them.’

    ‘Then you should be happy like the rest of us’, shouted the permanent secretary.

    ‘Yes sir’, the woman replied wearily, ‘but I am not happy about the place where we found them.’ Then she burst into tears.

    We all sat in perplexity.

    Pulling herself together and wiping her eyes, she explained.

    ‘Fifteen years ago, my sister who lives in Zunguru asked me to take her young boy to live with me since I was in the city and could give him a better chance in life. I took the boy and tried my best for him. I sent him to the same school as my children. I fed him the same meals as I did my children. In fact they did everything together, including studying. For some reason, however, my children came out of school with good grades, went on to university, graduated and took good jobs and are now living fine, independent lives.

    ‘Somehow though, my nephew just could not do well in the same academics despite being exposed to the same conditions. I did all I could to help him, including taking private teachers for him, but nothing helped.

    ‘Unfortunately, my sister blamed me. She said I used juju to take her son’s star and distribute it among my children; that’s why they are now doing fine now and her son is languishing.

    ‘After trying everything I could, I finally got him a job in another ministry hoping he would build a career and rise on the job. But he got involved with a bad group and started misbehaving, stealing and all that, and he got sacked. I decided to bring him here right under me so I could keep an eye on him. So, I came to you sir and you gave him a job, and now a fine job I seem to have done. What am I going to do? If he goes to prison, what am I going to tell the mother?’ She started to cry again.

    Aunt Deline was grieved. She hated to see a woman cry.

    ‘Don’t worry, the permanent secretary will be magnanimous. He will not press charges.’

    The permanent secretary sighed and agreed that he would not, but the young man should just tell us how he got hold of the papers because he thought he guarded it jealously enough.

    After a lot of coaxing, the cleaner opened his mouth and explained.

    ‘I had been present when the paper was brought to the office by the boy sent to deliver it. The secretary my aunt had not seen the contents of the envelope before she went to the restroom. While she was away, I quickly looked in the envelope and decided that the papers were very important so I just bid my time.

    ‘Whenever I cleaned the office, I noticed that Oga would make sure his briefcase was near his feet just behind his desk. So, I just watched for the times he went to the toilet and how long he spent there. One day, I saw him go to the toilet because the door was slightly open and my aunt was not around, and since I knew the shape, size and colour of the envelope, it was not difficult for me to get it within half a minute. Before he came out, I had done what I wanted to do and was already back on my seat pretending to sleep when he came to see if anyone was waiting for him here.’

    ‘But why did you take it?’ his aunt asked in exasperation.

    ‘I saw the gambling receipts. They were more important than the other papers. I was going to sell them back to the owner.’

    The inspector spoke. ‘Do you know that blackmail is a criminal offence?’

    ‘And supposing the man killed you instead of paying you? What then?’ his aunt asked again.

    Aunt Deline stood up. It was our cue. ‘I think our job here is done. We should allow the good permanent secretary to get on with his job.’

    The permanent secretary stood up too. ‘I know that if I asked you how you knew that the envelope was on the young man, you would not tell me. But at least let me pay you.’

    ‘Oh, I don’t mind telling you. I was not expecting anyone to be ‘wearing’ the papers; I was expecting to have to lift up every carpet in the place or go through the toilets, but I was prepared to be surprised anyhow so I paid attention to everything.

  • 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.’

  • Missing factor in our governance

    SIR: Most of the challenges bedevilling governance in Nigeria at federal, states and local government levels are traceable to lack of critical thinking.

    Isaac Newton was asked how he was able to propound the Law of Gravity and he responded “by thinking about it all the time”.

    It is high time appointment to public offices be based on the track record of solution-driven thinking.

    For instance despite Donald Trump’s limitations in the nuances of diplomacy and technocracy,

    two critical electioneering imperatives, he continues to dominate in most opinion polls in the U.S.A.

    Most American voters are fed up with pro-establishment leadership stereotype assuming power without a denouement traceable to a demonstrable personal success.

    Trump’s teaming supporters cannot but establish a nexus between his personal success story in commerce and industry and the anticipated American greatness.

    Our domestic politics have little or no such symbiotic imperative between candidate’s track record of success and contest for political office.

    The state of anomy prevailing in practically all the states of the federation shows a pathetic declivity in cerebral engagement.

    The lazy cerebral inclusion in governance is more apparent in Ekiti State with its garrulous governor finding solace in leading a rebellious opposition to a one year old federal administration whilst leaving his state to wallow in crass maladministration. In Ekiti, workers are on strike, Internally Generated Revenue is stagnant and has taken a southward trajectory from Fayemi’s transitional threshold.

    Fayose’s lead balloon is an aggregation of what obtains in other states with exception of Lagos.

    Change remains a rocket science where thirty six states are cerebrally detached from the challenges of the moment.

     

    Bukola Ajisola,

    Victoria Island, Lagos.

  • $20b ‘missing’ oil cash diverted to poll

    $20b ‘missing’ oil cash diverted to poll

    The Economic and Financial Crimes Commission( EFCC) has traced the diversion of the substantial part of the missing $20billion oil cash  to the 2015 electioneering campaign of the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP).

    The anti-graft agency discovered how the cash was transferred and wired into secret accounts for political purposes.

    It was learnt that the EFCC has made “ appreciable progress” in recovering a huge chunk of the cash.

    Former Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) Governor Sanusi Lamido Sanusi (now Emir of Kano Muhammadu Sanusi II) raised the alarm that there was an estimated $20bn shortfall in oil revenues due to the treasury from the state oil company which might have been spent illegally.

    The EFCC latest discovery is said to be part of the ongoing “comprehensive” probe of a former Minister of Petroleum Resources, Mrs. Diezani Alison-Madueke.

    A source close to the investigator, said: “We have tracked a substantial part of the missing $20billion about which the former CBN Governor raised the alarm.

    “From our findings, the oil money was diverted. We will soon make the details available.

    “As for those being invited for interrogation on campaign funds, we have been able to establish that the amounts in question were strictly government funds.

    “Whatever noise anyone is making is baseless. We are determined to recover these funds from all the beneficiaries.

    “Some of the suspects have refunded the cash credited to them and some still have outstanding funds to pay.”

    The highly-placed source said the EFCC was not targeting PDP leaders at all.

    He said if there is any evidence of government funds spent on the campaign of other political parties, we will “investigate too”.

    In 2014, Sanusi told members of the Senate Committee on Finance at the National Assembly in Abuja that $20billion was missing.

    He said: “It is established that of the $67 billion crude shipped by the Nigeria National Petroleum Corporation (NNPC), between January 2012 and July 2013, $47 billion was remitted to the Federation Account.”

    “It is now up to NNPC, given all the issues raised, to produce the proof that the $20billion unremitted either did not belong to the Federation or was legally and constitutionally spent.”

    Mrs Alison-Madueke denied that $20billion was missing.

    She said: “When the former CBN Governor came up with the allegation that about $49.8bn of crude oil sales proceeds were not remitted by NNPC, we swung into action with all the relevant agencies to reconcile the figures.

    “When we reconciled the figures down to $10.8bn and some agencies were having a different figure of $12bn, we insisted that the reconciliation must continue because there was still an anomaly; we said we must get down to the bottom of the matter to find out what is really amiss.

    “We appeared before the Senator Makarfi Commttee to defend ourselves over the fresh allegation of unremitted $20bn. We put our papers forward. The Makarfi Committee then went through all the evidence supplied by all the relevant agencies and found that there was no missing $20billion.

    “Despite the fact that the Makarfi Committee declared that no money was missing, the opposition kept insisting that $20bn was missing and they were calling us names.”

    While receiving APC chieftains from Adamawa in April 2015, President Muhammadu Buhari promised to probe the whereabouts of the $20billion.

    He said: “Going by the huge sum of money involved, there was no way an APC-led administration that has the fight against corrupt practices as a cardinal objective would sit by and watch some highly placed Nigerians loot the treasury.”

  • Police quiz missing banker’s colleagues

    Police quiz missing banker’s colleagues

    THERE is Mrs Bukola Olowookere, the bank worker, who has not been seen since she was allegedly dropped off close to her home last Thursday night by some colleagues?

    This is the puzzle the police are trying to unravel in a bid to end the mystery over her disappearance.

    The police have interrogated the colleagues, who dropped her at Canoe Bus stop in Oke-Afa, Isolo, Lagos, around 8.30pm of that fateful day.

    The 33-year-old Mrs Olowookere and her three colleagues in the car work at Ecobank. She works at the Bourdillon, Ikoyi branch of the bank.

    With her were Bayo Ogunrinyo, Henry Ejimofo, who are in her branch, and Itar Mukhtar, a senior colleague from another branch, who drove the car.

    Ogunrinyo was said to have alighted at Oshodi; Mrs Olowookere dropped at Canoe Bus stop; the others, who live in Ikotun, drove on.

    Mrs Olowookere’s elder brother Mr Seyi Ogundolie said the police have quizzed her colleagues.

    Ogundolie said he learnt about his sister’s fate late in the night of last Thursday.

    “We initially reported the matter to Ejigbo Police Station but since we needed them to move fast on it, we were transferred from Ejigbo to the Special Anti-Robbery Squad (SARS) Ikeja headquarters.

    “They are doing their investigations. They have called her colleagues for questioning – those that claimed to have dropped her off. So, we are waiting for further update from them,” he said.

    Ogundolie, who hails from Ondo State, said he spoke with his sister last Wednesday.

    Their discussion, he said, bordered on changing the lesson teacher of her four-year-old son, who the school bus usually drops at the Ogundolies home in Jakande Estate after closing.

    He said: “Our conversation was less than three minutes. My wife called me because her son stays at our place till evening. The school bus drops him at our place in Jakande Estate and his father picks him up in the evening between 6:30 and 7:30 because he gets home earlier than his wife. Prior to this time, her son used to have a female teacher and I think the female teacher left the school, so she found her son a male teacher. When my wife told me, I told her (Mrs Olowookere) I cannot entertain a male teacher because I have two daughters and two other girls living with me and we cannot always be at home because a male teacher wants to come around. With the female teacher, our doors are always opened. That was what I told her that day and she said she would do something about it. She did not sound troubled throughout our conversation.”

    He described his sister’s disappearance as disturbing, adding: “The first question I asked her husband is if he did not quarrel with his wife and maybe she went to our parents’ house. But it was so late in the night when I got the call.  When I asked him if they quarrelled and he said no. I spoke with their pastor in the morning and he said their relationship is better than it used to be that they don’t suspect that there was a quarrel. We went as far as going to my parents’ house early the next morning. She wasn’t there when I went there as early as 6am and as at then, we have not had any clear picture of what happened to her the night before until much more later when we got the phone numbers of those she was in the vehicle with.

    “She works with Bourdillon branch of the bank. They were four people in the vehicle including her. She was the only female. According to what I was told, I cannot say she was the one that was dropped off last but she was the only one that was dropped off that nobody can attest to the fact that she was dropped aside the other two guys in the car because one of the colleagues alighted at Oshodi and he is the one that usually brings her home anytime she misses the staff bus. He drops her at Cele bus stop because she lives at Okota. He (Ogunrinyo) was the one that told us that as at when he was alighting at Oshodi, Bukola was still in the vehicle and the other colleague (Ejimofo) who was in the car aside the driver (Mukhtar) also confirmed that he was dropped at Oshodi and that they were the ones that dropped Bukola at Canoe bus stop. That is as far as we know. The other two guys were heading to Ikotun because we were told that they live in Ikotun.”