Shroud

We Love To Bless
Yet We Live Overwhelmed With Stress
Our Real Issues Are Never Printed By The Press
So We Continue To Wade In A Murky Mess

We Hope To See The Sun Break Out
And When We Think It Will, A few Begin To Pout
Casting Into Us Sufficient Doubt
That They And Not We Should Be Stout.

We Run Around In A Maze
Like Blind Mice We See Through A Haze
Maybe Someday We Will Be Fed With Sufficient Maize
So We Begin To Develop A Piercing Gaze. 09

Minding My Own Business

I know I have issues...plenti, plenti, but with God on my side I will sort them out. Issue no 1 the inability to mind my own business ah ah I must see, I must vex, I must talk, even that sensible spirit of reason that tries to butt in don tire sef.

So it was a cool evening and I was on my day home, trekked to the BRT park on Secretariat road as usual (na exercise o money dey)and then got on the bus to Yaba hoping for an uneventful journey home.

The bus as usual took its time to fill and then 3 girls come in together, the giggly...small brained sort who would have been blonde if they were Caucasian. They sit just in front of me and I sigh, I get a feeling my trip home will be filled with a bit of drama.

In a few minutes the three giggly pigs soon start chattering away, pure unadulterated meaningless talk (yes just before you judge me, I'm ageing in the worst possible way...I suffer from intolerance)so they begin to run their mouths and soon pass amongst them selves a bag of boiled groundnut each (good I thought that should keep them quiet for a while).

I settle down to a few moments of peace and quiet till I noticed something dropping on the floor. I feel a slow anger begin to build as I look in aghast at a member of the bimbo's obviously eating her groundnut in relish and dropping the shells on the bus floor.



I knew it I say to myself, bimbo with no sense, no respect, no decorum and no thought for cleanliness...I mean what was I to expect obviously it was ok to drop trash on the floor and have dogs clean up after you. I looked pointedly at her giving her my piercing evil look, which she didn't understand as she just shelled and flung away.

Finally I said what I wanted to say and she stopped...as usual all my words were uttered in my head and she only stopped when she was done...honest I should go for counselling.

The Peoples of Akoko Edo and the Tower of Babel

I love my end of the world, I absolutely love it, I don’t go there often and I’ll most likely count the number of times I’ve been there on all ten fingers. But I love my end all the same...maybe it’s the scenery...the hills...the language I listen to but cannot speak or the whole essence of just having your roots planted in a particular region (so when you are asked, where do you come from you have a name appended to a particular location).


I was talking to my father recently and while we were gisting away about languages of the region, he suddenly said he won’t be shocked if the tower of Babel was built and destroyed in Akoko Edo. I actually found the possibility intriguing.


Now this is his theory; (which I’ve beefed up, thanks to Google) If from one neighbouring village to the other, different languages are spoken; so different, so dissimilar that not a word is understood i.e. if an individual from Ugboshi not knowing the languages in this general locality were so dissimilar attempts to speak to another individual from Imoga, Igarra, Ososo or Somorika the result would be utter the exchange of gibberish or incomprehensible chaos.


So if you have a local government with about 20 odd villages and towns and between these villages, you have about 10 or more different languages spoken on the average isn’t that just plain weird.
So just imagine this; many BC’s ago, the peoples of the earth all spoke and resided in one particular spot, presently called Ugboshi or Igbo Ola Oke and so the people of this great area came together in agreement with their King (my ancestor, the original Omoluabi) to build a great tall tower that would go all the way up to Eledumare, so they could see Him as often as they wanted (the tower can now be seen as a huge rock in Somorika).


They came together in harmony speaking this unique tongue (Okpameri). Bringing mortar, water and bricks, they begin to build a tower. One fine sunny day, Eledumare looked down and thought “this is what happens when pikin eye don open” deciding enough was enough He struck down the tower.


The people looked around in confusion, as many other tongues emerged—slowly grouping together as similarity in tongue would permit, and so gifts were handed down to these groups of people as the creator deemed fit—ultimate wisdom was given to the Ugboshi people and the other gifts which were given to the others, became secrets which will only be unearthed in Gulder Ultimate 8. (You actually thought I would tell you what those secrets were abi).


So that’s all folks I hope that I have been able to make you think, confusing you a bit that Akoko Edo may just be the centre of the world...the point of the tower of Babel.



EBIRA Akoko-Edo LGA (Igarra)

EMAI-IULEHA-ORA Owan LGA
ESAN Agbazko, Okpebho, Owan, and Etsako LGA's
GHOTUO Owan and Akoko-Edo LGA's
IBILO
IKA Orhionwon LGA
IKPESHI Etsako LGA
IVBIE NORTH-OKPELA-ARHE Etsako and Akoko-Edo LGA's
OKPAMHERI Akoko-Edo LGA
OKPE-IDESA-AKUKU Akoko-Edo LGA
OLOMA Akoko-Edo LGA
OSOSO Akoko-Edo LGA
SASARU-ENWAN-IGWE Akoko-Edo LGA
UKAAN Akoko-Edo LGA
UNEME Etsako, Agbazko, and Akoko-Edo LGA's
YEKHEE Etsako, Agbako, and Okpebho LGA's

Breaking News

It’s about 12noon, and the residents and workers of Boyle street Onikan Lagos, were glad they had generators in their offices and so couldn’t feel the heat of the midday sun, and so with the aid of a mechanical contraption, they didn’t have to sweat excessively.


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Although in the past few weeks, the nations provider of that very scarce commodity—‘electricity’ had provided epileptic service but with sudden bursts shocking long hours, (we suspect they may have fallen asleep or had been bribed at these moments) we hear they have gone on summer vacation to the Bahamas or some exotic Island where they will no doubt enjoy the fruits of their labour (I mean all the monies from connecting back lines has to be spent someday).


So on this hot day about 12pm, (we have mentioned this haven’t we) our top agent that female of incomparable beauty, that genius whom Einstein would have envied, that defender of the masses, that upholder of justice, that deep thinker of thoughts unknown; agent 90210 aka Fifi, was out on a secret mission.


On her way to this very important mission, she was called to spy on bags which a seller form Iraq had just brought into the country. These bags had the potential to hide shoulder held blast guns (whatever those might be).


Suddenly Fifi spots some men in pinkish-purplish shirts and black trousers walking about and deflating tyres, and just when they were about to walk up to her mini parakeet aka the fifi van, she gives the stance of peace and goes into fight mode.
Yes I know you’re probably wondering what this is all about yeh!

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So it’s about 12noon on Boyle street Onikan and men of the task force in purple and black trousers are seen with a tow truck lurking around with a bunch of policemen for support. Soon they form two groups and from both sides of the street they begin to deflate tyres.


I’m wondering what’s going on when a policeman walks up to the car I’m leaning on and asks that it be removed. Soon the word goes round and people begin to leave their offices to find out what exactly is going on. In less than 5 minutes there’s confusion when car owners realise their tyres have been deflated and for what; tax hadn’t been paid for the car park.


Now was this a proper car park, nope it was just space which had been converted into a parking lot because there wasn’t enough parking space in the various buildings along the street. Was it obstructing traffic? Nope it was well away from the road.
So before I could blink a whole bunch of lawyers were out on the street screaming blue murder (you bet these revenue collectors/tax invaders/thieves in uniform didn’t know they would be dealing with a whole bunch of people who would be quoting and counter quoting).


Well I loved every bit of the scene as it unfolded from the punch throwing to the screaming to the tax collectors realizing they had just backed up the wrong alley. It’s amazing how Nigerians will suddenly all human right activists when a bunch of them are together and they are been victimised.

BRT Injustice

As ususal I got on my favourite mode of transportation (at least it will be my favourite until I get my metallic blue drop top Mercedes Benz C class with my customized plates)and as usual I got to it on that two wheeled dangerously driven contraption driven by a greater majority of Malo's althought today I was lucky to get a driver of the Nah variety.

So I got to my favourite mode of transportation the BRT (the red A/ced variety) looking forward to a comfrotably seated air conditioned ride to Obalende. Hm of all the unlucky things that could happen on a bright sunny day,when I was in a good mood too this bus took off and I expecting to hear the heavenly sound that A/c's make when they are on only heard silence.

Hellllllllllooooo why wasnt the a/c on and why was the driver not saying anything, I elongate my neck to see if his window is open and amazingly it is. What and my fellow Nigerian citizens on the bus were not saying a word. Ok my neighbour kept on muttering under his breathe loud enough for my all hearing ears to catch none the less why the a/c wasnt turned on. Why indeed but did he say it out loud...No, did these industrious Nigerians on their way to seek wealth say a word...no...did they open the windows...no they must have felt and imaginary cooling effect I certainly did not feel.

After stewing in my seat and calling all those who were in the bus MUMU's, DUMMY'S, COWARD's and the reason why everything goes wrong in this country for not asking the driver why he didnt turn on the a/c I vowed I would ask the driver...posing as a daughter of one of the Lagbus managers why he didnt turn on the a/c...threaten to have him reported...write down the number of the bus as I got down...and then stroll happily to work (tongue in cheek) victory at last...I'm definitely not a mumu.

So we get to Obalende...I get off my seat determinedly, beginning to stew all over again at the injustice of not getting the full worth of my N100 ride. Good Im almost the last to disembark and I get close to the driver...so why didnt you turn on the a/c I asked...



I finally disembark with a slight frown on my appenged to my fore head...mulling over the reason that was racing through my head.

Just maybe his cooling system was faulty...just maybe what happened was definitely a technical problem...I guess I'm just a Mumu like everybody else on that bus...because I didnt have the liver to ask...of all stupid reasons not to ask...what if the driver was rude and threw me off the bus...Lol gosh I'm a Coward.

My Tribute to MJ

I know I didnt go oooooooohhhhhhhh and aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh
Neither did I think I would swoon when you were eventually sighted
Always wondered why fans passed out at your concerts
Constantly telling myself that I would never do.


When tales started floating in, in of things which you did
I took it with a pinch of salt
Judge and Jury I did not become.

Album after album
Song after song I follwed
Listening and learning the lyrics to the ones I thought were exceptional.
Sang made up verions of songs I loved when I was a child

Tried to dance the Moon Walk
and constantly said hehe and shumukapong

Yes you were a part of me
Thats what I hold on today
Certain events, certain memories that you were part of
Through the songs you shared
And the years that rolled by

I've only been able to shed a tear
For I tell myself you were neither my brother nor my friend
But my heart is heavy still
For I feel a part of me
Is lost today

The NLNG Prize for Literature

I pride the fact that I can be totally objective even when my friends or family are involved, so again I'm faced with knowing one of two people in a situation that could strengthen the fact that Nigerians are just a bunch of overly corrupt and plain stupid people who would rather think of who they know and how the bond of being ex-classmates or relatives could out-weigh something as simple as looking at 'wait for it' WHICH IS THE BETTER BOOK arrghhhhhhhhhhh.

So before I go of tangent, I will introduce to my present bane of contention, The NLNG writers award. This group like the Wole Soyinka Prize for Literature or the Booker Prize seek to give out prizes mostly cash to outstanding writers. The authors and their books who get nominated our all are all trimmed down by a panel till a final selection is made and these are entered for the award and the winner of the award should be chosen based on the books CONTENT.

Where such side attractions like the authors state of origin, schools attended, Cause presently pursued and who is known well and how come into play, then the award is said to be RIGGED, BIASE AND NOT TRUE TO WHAT IR SHOULD STAND FOR.

It's the 5th edition of the NLNG Prize for Literature, the two main contenders are Jude Dibia for the book Unbridled and Kaine Agary for Yellow Yellow.

Print media coverage for these two writers has however been suspiciously sided and so I wonder has a winner been chosen already and if this winner has been chosen, pray tell on what grounds; content of the book or knowing who the organizers are. An amazing occurrence in the build up to the finals of the book prize which should all end tomorrow is the ability for friends of friends to come out and bad mouth one writer to favour the other. How is it possible we let this happen without shutting these Idiots up. So I wonder how Ms. Miss Pamela Udoka (author of a children's book Rejected Blessings) could publicly call one of these writers a 'Bad and Corrupt writer' on what grounds and why not in the privacy of her own home where she could have been applauded by her friends and family.

There was also the comment in the Guardian's review page for the 10th of October very sadly today, a day before the final announcement "the new face of Nigerian literature is a woman, and when the curtain draws for 2008 Nigerian Literature prize tomorrow, one feminine...or mascu-feminine writer will emerge..." Yep this is what an obviously paid off writer in one of Nigeria's well reputed newspapers deemed it fit to be able to string his words together.

So will these books Yellow Yellow and Unbridled be judged objectively or not? Or has the winner been chosen based on who is known where and for how long, be the final outcome?

I know who has been reportedly chosen but lets see if corruption and a twisted mentality wins the day.

We await the results patiently.

My Past My Future

Dear Lord,

Please, please forgive Me for all the things Ive done, I know I haven't been exactly amazing or outstanding when it comes to doing the things I ought to have done, but now I realize all these and ask for your forgiveness especially now that I need a favour.

Well I know you know what I want since You're all seeing and all knowing so I'll code my request knowing You dear Lord understand perfectly what I need.



I humbly request that the lil bambino you've given enters the world strong and healthy and beautifully formed with all senses intact and his thinking faculty superb. Ok lord I know half the world most likely knows what my request is but I seriously need this request granted so that my past doesn't affect my future and my belief becomes strengthened thrice as much as it was before.

Thank you for listening.

Hummingbirds

Okay I know a hummingbird is a bird not even found in Africa, but this morning there I was minding my own business doing my own thing and slam it just popped right into my thoughts how WE might not be Hummingbirds literally but figuratively we do something they do.

So I'll tell a little story about what Ive observed about Nigerians, when it comes to how daft and incompetent our Government is. We have 3 groups of Nigerians, the screamers (the Niger delta advocates), the back benchers (those who don't give a flying f&%ck and who don't care if the shits thrown helter-skelter as long as they don't smell or are touched by it), and finally the hummingbirds ( moi and a whole lot of people who murmur, curse and stamp our feet all in private of course and talk mostly under our breathe and think 'hell its not as if I can do anything about the situation').

So we the poor Nigerian Hummingbirds who sometimes are filled with so much hope for an improved, brighter tomorrow, also look in disgust and become quickly disillusioned when we see something as simple as deliberate flaunting of traffic rules, then we once again fall into the very pits of depression and the utmost conviction that there can be no hope.


I ask myself why we are such an active group of back benchers, whether we are Niger delta activists, screamers or hummingbirds. Why do we have the innate ability to take things as they come, which can be oh so annoying. Yeah it took centuries for America, Great Britain and other developed countries to attain the level of development and orderliness they have today, but in this day and age when our progress should be faster because we have the great advantage to copy must we attempt to give the same excuse?

To St. Patrick

INTRODUCTION

Kachifo Limited, publishers of Farafina Books, Farafina Educational and Farafina Magazine, is proud to announce the release of their latest fictional novel: To Saint Patrick. The novel is a gripping and courageous debut from Eghosa Imasuen, one of the next generation of great Nigerian writers.

SYNOPSIS

It's the year 2003 in an 'alternate Nigeria,' a prominent member of the NPN political party, veteran journalist Chief Johnson, has just been murdered. Two small time crooks are found with a bag full of his bloody clothes. They will take the fall to assuage the public, although some evidence suggests they may just be innocent... Is it politics as usual?

To Saint Patrick rewrites Nigerian political history, presenting the reader with a series of 'what ifs': what if Major-General Murtala Mohammed had survived the 1976 coup attempt, and had run for a 2nd term?; What if Babangida was simply on the sidelines—an honourable gentleman?; What if our democracy was healthy?

A beautifully written tale of adventure, sci-fi, intrigue, and a dash of love, To Saint Patrick is a must read.

REVIEWS

"To Saint Patrick is a novel that – on the strength of the originality of its premise alone, not to mention the beauty of the telling – has created a new class of Nigerian literature to which will belong all books bold enough to attempt to imaginatively stoke the controversial fire that is Nigerian history."

- Tolu Ogunlesi, Author, Listen to the Geckos Singing from a Balcony

To Saint Patrick is available in major bookstores, and from Farafina at 25 Boyle St, Onikan, or www.kachifo.com. Its recommended retail price is N1000