Towards 2011 General Elections

There comes a time in the life of a nation or group of people when imminent change is either desired and/or thrust on same. Instances abound in history: From the German theologian-led Reformation in the 14th century; the revolution in France against the Bourbons from 1789 to 1799; the dismissal of racial segregation and political/economic/legal discrimination in South Africa to the dethronement of despotism (and other forms of absolutism) particularly across the African continent; the list is inexhaustible.

Whether these crusades were individuals’ ideas or hatched on the platform of social mass movements by pressure groups is inconsequential. What counts is the fact that the people were either enlightened or oppressed in a sufficient manner to rebuff subjugation and status quo.

In Nigeria at the moment, the sensation you get (which is almost tactual) is that of great displeasure of the populace towards their ‘leaders’. This disapproval has no ethnic, religious or cultural affiliation as leadership has failed across the entire nation – corruption in the North has a hardworking companion in the South, bad roads exist across all the geo-political zones while leadership at all levels reeks of incompetence and corruptness. Though they might appear helpless, the people are beginning to realise that indeed true power lies with them and they can choose to vest such power with any individual(s) they so desire. 2011 elections present to them an excellent opportunity to sack sleazy and effete leadership in order to reinstate service and accountability. It is all for them to lose this momentous chance.

Indeed, 2011 might not be the El Dorado when milk will begin to flow from our taps and honey, fall as rain. Howbeit, it presents a rare opportunity to mark the beginning of a most desirous change. I believe a group of people pivotal to this cause are the elites. Of course, this is no reference to political autocrats (who christen themselves democrats) who have held this nation down in the dungeons of self-aggrandisement. I am referring to that supposedly eroded (but emerging) middle class, particularly individuals who fall between the 20 to 45 years age stool. They enjoy superior intellectual, social and economic status. They have the numbers. They hold the ace! Alas, these people by their inaction and residing in their ‘comfort zones’ have fortified the chains binding us.

In a power failure situation, they generate their own power. Public water works are more of relics of the past; hence they sink their own boreholes. With the decay of public schools, they enrol their wards in expensive private schools. They flee from our abattoir public hospitals to patronise prestigious private ones either at home or abroad. Of a truth, expecting government security agencies to provide security is akin to suicide. Hence, they engage private security outfits. On election days, they sit at home to watch the charade called elections. They stay away from the murky waters of government and politics, desiring to be ‘home and dry’ with no wet feet. Yet, at the slightest chance, they complain (still within their ‘comfort zones’) about government, politics, education, security, health, etc. They are eager to blog, write, comment, criticise, condemn, write off or complain about any social ill. Interestingly, that is all they do!

I believe certain issues must be addressed by this class of people (who hold the ace) if indeed we are to experience the change we long for after the 2011 elections would have come and gone.

doubt, it is not out of place to criticise government behind a computer screen, through the internet portals or on the pages of newspapers. While this has its place in social crusade, it should not come all its own. It is a shame to this generation of people when individuals a la Wole Soyinka, Anthony Enahoro, Late Gani Fawehinmi and Abraham Adesanya and many others (in their 70’s) are still at the vanguard of social protest against appalling leadership. They take to the streets under the scourging sun while this class of people watch them on TV. Our ‘comfort zones’, we must leave and engage our ‘leaders’ where the rubber hits the road. Howbeit, it is comforting to discover that this is changing going by the recent rallies successfully executed by various youth fora. It is soothing to see celebrities and VIPs lending support to these mass meetings. Nonetheless, care must be taken not to be carried away by staging euphoric protests as these on their own do not guarantee change. When push comes to shove, how many of us are ready to do what really counts and stay on course to see this country through the change we desire? Mail bags of foreign consulars are bursting at their seams with our HSMP, Canadian Immigration Residence/Work Permit and US visa lottery applications as we are ready to take off at the least harassment or discomfort. We should be wary of individuals seeking cheesy recognition.

We must take active participation in electoral processes. Pressure should be sustained on the National Assembly to amend essential sections of the electoral act before the elections with preference given to true independence of INEC, independent candidacy, resolution of electoral disputes, penalties for electoral malpractices and participation of the myriad of Nigerians in the Diaspora.

Enrolment on the voters’ register is indeed a step to take in the right direction. We must get involved in grassroots politicking not necessarily as politicians but in procedures and decisions that throw up political candidates. How many of us know (either by name or face) our councillors and local government chairmen? In the build-up to 2011 general elections we should lend a voice to deciding whose names get on the ballot papers and who eventually secures our votes. Fundamental to this is the facilitating of town hall meetings. Aspirants should be called on to present and defend their manifestos. We should be spared mundane talks about provision of roads, pipe borne water, etc as campaign items – not in the 21st century! Let us engage all political aspirants (councillors, council chairmen, state house members, governors, presidents, senators and representatives) in deliberating on real issues – diversification of the economy, IGRs, healthcare, taxes, pension reforms, education, infrastructural, agricultural, industrial and manpower development. The media (particularly TV and radio stations) have a key role to play in facilitating live town hall meetings. Someone once suggested political aspirants should be subjected (during their campaign tenure) to the drills and rigours of the Mark Burnett’s The Apprentice. Let us know what businesses they have managed, associations they have led and ideas they have hatched, successfully.

Before and during elections, creating awareness among the general public and monitoring elections cannot be overemphasised. The populace should know that true power lies with them and in their votes. The political cabal may want us to believe our votes do not count – you wonder, why do they kill and maim for it? Nevertheless, through effective monitoring they would be made to realise one man’s vote can be deciding. Volunteering to ensure the elections are what we want, must involve registering with non-partisan pressure and monitoring groups. On election days, let us employ all possible technological facilities (pen recorders, camcorders, phones, cameras, etc) to monitor elections. Intellectual strategy and scheming is our key weapon.

‘Area boys’? We are the real ‘area boys’. We do it in style!

Angst of a Generation in Transit: I Remember

I belong to a generation of Nigerians I would like to refer to as ‘transitional’. We were birthed at the threshold of a country’s descent from the sturdy, high grounds of magnificence as it began another into the peaty waters of obscurity. Our predecessors were spoilt and overwhelmed by the rents of an oil-rich nation to the extent a government arrowhead had to declare they had no idea of what to do with the wealth in the nation’s coffers! The forerunners imperilled the emergence of an African power, by engaging in an unprecedented squandering of public till, civil wars, coups, counter-coups, ethnic, political and religious vices.

Terms a la austerity and ‘structural adjustment’ that were hitherto alien to a top-notch nation eroded the middle class stratum and commenced the eventual journey into socio-political and economic anarchy. I can remember clearly, economic situation was so bad in the early 80’s that families had to queue up to receive rationed essentials like groceries, toiletries and basic food items. In fact, many families had to lock these items up in bedrooms in order to ensure shrewd consumption.

I was born, schooled and lived a better part of my growing up years in the city of Ibadan – a city that premiered the first TV station in Africa, the first tallest building in Nigeria, the first university, and many infrastructures, investments and industries of great impact. It was home to several conglomerates, famous book publishers in the league of Evans, Longman, Heinemann, and Spectrum and research institutes like CRIN and FRIN with the sage, Chief Obafemi Awolowo dictating the velocity of development for the western region, using Ibadan as the launching pad. Tunji Oyelana, Wole Soyinka, Mike Adenuga, Akinwumi Ishola, Mike Nwangwu, Reuben Abati, Bayo Faleti and many other prominent personalities had their roots in this city of copious hills and valleys. At the moment, Ibadan is a shallow apparition of its once brilliant self. The same could be said of not a few cities in Nigeria.

Growing up, our aspirations were anchored on values that have no semblance with what obtain in present times. During pre-high and high schooling, what we prided ourselves on was the type of books read (academic, fiction and non-fiction) and the number of times they were re-read. Amongst favourite authors, series and titles were Mabel Segun, Sidney Sheldon, Charles Dickens, Nick Carter, D.O. Fagunwa, Stephen King, Akinwumi Ishola, Enid Blyton, Kola Onadipe, Danielle Steel, Adebayo Faleti, Eddie Iroh, Enid Blyton, Mills and Boon, Béllò àti Bíntù, Archie, The Hardy Boys, Táíwò àti Kéhíndé, Bumble Bee and African Writer series, Ògbójú Ode Nínú Igbó Irúnmalè (A Forest of a Thousand Demons) My Father’s Daughter, Eze/Akin/Sani Goes to School, Silas Manner, etc.

Electricity supply was almost constant. Our sanity was in one piece as we were saved from the noise and pollution from generating monsters. Generators (often referred to as ‘plants’) were used only by the society’s high and mighty. Television was not sophisticated but was fun, learning and entertaining with super-engaging (local and foreign) soaps, comedies and cartoons like Matlock, Wonder Years, Famous Five, Terrahawks, Basi and Company, Checkmate, The New Masquerade, Bàbá Geébú, Flaxton Boys, Fraggle Rock, Ifá Olókun, Some Mothers Do Have Them, Jolly Train, Fawlty Towers, Friday night Indian movies, The Village Headmaster, Òyìnbó Ajélè, Super Ted, Mirror in the Sun, Ilé Ìwòsàn, Schools Debate, Voltron, Rent-A-Ghost, We Can Tell You A Story, Kóòtù Asípa, Atom Ant, Do Your Thing and of course the ever-scintillating, Sesame Street.

Other indoor activities meant making our toys from paper, cardboards, newspapers, crayons (I remember the big, fat wax ones) and other materials. I had an indoor, self-built aquarium which was seeded with fishes I caught myself. Headrest and TV covers were knitted during our pastimes. House chores were apportioned and done without delay.

Outdoor activities were fun, likewise. We got our hands dirty on a farm, reared pets and livestock within premises that were not completely paved and heavily spotted with both crop and ornamental vegetation. Parents had interests in what we did and happened to us – school assignments were done with prompt supervision. We were not left alone to our own devices – when parents had to be absent, an older relative was always around to take care of us. Holidays were spent in rotation from one cousin’s to the other. Birthday parties were fun with jollof rice, moinmoin in abundance and Green Sands Shandy drink to go with. Souvenirs were toffee candy, whistle-shaped sweets, cabin biscuits, plastic miniature animals like gorillas, elephants, etc.

Both public and missionary schools served as the melting point where the wards and children of the society’s lofty and lowly shared common experience. Teachers were revered either out of respect, fear or both.

Manners were explicitly imbibed with ‘Thank You’, ‘Please’ and ‘Excuse me’ being regulars during conversations. We were taught to leave our seat for standing elderly either in a bus or a public waiting area. You dared not eat without a glass of water in close proximity. And of course, talking with one’s mouth full is often accompanied with appropriate punishment. If we had to eat in between meals, parents or guardians must be in the know. Being hard working, truthful and trustworthy were not negotiable. In fact, they were values to be proud of.

I am not attempting to sound like a grumpy, old fellow that had seen it all, but alas it is painful to witness how this endowed nation plunged into the abyss of subversion having savoured remnants of the “good, ol’ days”. Ours is a generation that was handed a country that was set on a journey with no clear destination or road map. At the moment, we are caught in a web of psychological confusion, mental frustration and economic agitation as we live in a contradiction of what we grew up learning and the present complexities of an incredibly materialistic, self-centred, insensate and hollow society.

I remember!

Independence Day: Before the Celebrations

Almost half a century ago, the colonial frontiers of the British government were rolled back and the freedom to attain sovereignty was accorded the geographical enclave called Nigeria. 49 years ago, Nigeria had all the makings of an uplifting tale: an emerging socio-political and economic African (and possible world) power with all the trappings that made the not-too-willing colonial masters break their siege on Africa’s most populous and promising nation at that time. The extrapolated trajectory of this country’s future made even the most affluent nation in Europe and the Americas green with envy. Everything looked possible, but alas 49 years thereafter everything went awry.

Many Nigerians reminisce the emotion of great delight and patriotism that engulfed them as they watched the British sentinels lowered the Union Jack while the green-white-green striped flag climbed in its stead. With the rising of their symbol of independence rose the promise of a future with endless possibilities. 49 years later, most of those senior citizens could only stretch their memory band to relive the ‘good old days’ in order to escape the misery of the present as they continue to gape at and question what went wrong with a country that had it all. For many Nigerians who never witnessed this symbolical event, they might have been saved from such agonies of past-present comparison (or better put, contradiction). Howbeit, the horizon holds no promise for them either. 49 years subsequently, a nation that was expected to dictate the socio-political velocity of a continent is still bugged down with the basics of starting a journey to nationhood.

As a young Nigerian, though I may not have been opportune to live in the ‘good old days’ but I have heard, read and before my very eyes, seen how a country with utmost potentials crescendoed to lofty crest of fete and how it unfortunately descended to the miry trough of discomfiture. Ours is a land where the only thing that is predictable is dashed hope, where certainty only spells uncertainty and the future indeed is what it is – futuristic! Of a truth, we may have enjoyed occasional stints of resplendence and (inter)national honour that once in while prop our self-pride and patriotism as Nigerians, often times the norm is that of failed governance, collapsing institutions and infrastructures, shame, sectarian violence, political murders and assassinations, malformed morals, corruption and other brothers in arms. Week in, week out, searching for a pint of good news is akin to looking for a pin in a haystack. Even those events we usually fall back on (like watching our national football teams play) in order to temporarily drown our despair have conspired to add to our gloom.

Of course, I ca n hear the ‘positive’ Nigerian telling me if I look around enough, I would definitely find reasons why I should roll out the drums on the eve of another Independence Day celebration. While I may not be the most optimistic, patriotic Nigerian that constantly hopes against hope in the face of almost a failed nation, I have often times stuck my neck out for my dear country in spite of realities that do not support this stance. True, I can count (on my fingers, though) a number of instances and individuals that have brought our dear country to brilliant limelight as they stamped their clout on the world stage.

Indeed, what shall I say of literary giants à la John Pepper Clark, Dan Fulani, Ken Saro Wiwa, Wole Soyinka, Ben Okri, Chinua Achebe, Helon Habila, and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Mention must be made of music icons in the league of Fela Kuti, Stephen Osadebey, Batili Alake, Àsá, King Sunny Ade, Beautiful Nubia, Dr. Victor Olaiya, Lágbájá, Dan Maraya Jos, Bobby Benson, Comfort Omoge, Tunde Nightingale, Sir Victor Uwaifo, Roy Chicago, Onyeka Owenu and many others. I shall not forget to list many accomplished individuals in their various fields of endeavour and who through intelligence, initiative and industry have brought pride to our collective existence as a nation: Adeoye Lambo, Oluchi Onweagba, Mary Onyeali, T.O.S. Benson, Samuel Ajayi Crowther, Hakeem Olajuwon, Nuhu Ribadu, Philip Emeagwali, Dora Akunyili, Aminu Kano, Nwankwo Kanu, Richard Mofe Damijo, Okonjo Iweala, Wande Abimbola, Sheikh Adelabu, Gani Fawehinmi, Aliko Dangote, Ben Enwonwu, Justus Esiri, Murtala Mohammed and many others. In fact, the list is endless.

However, on scrutinising this catalogue there exist a couple of discouraging issues. The very obvious is the fact that these names are always recurring in our register of (inter)national honours. That is pointer to the reality that we (as a nation) have not moved forward and if we had, many a time we have retraced our step backwards from a much desired destination. Secondly and not too evident: most of these people achieved based only on their individual efforts that exclude an enabling environment that should be a given in their homeland. This can be extended to explain the reason why many Nigerians have resorted to self-help: A situation where every individual battles to meet their needs in order to ensure continued existence. Therein lies our problem (and probably, solution) as a nation.

Individual efforts, self-help/-government can only ascertain individual achievements and most assuredly a disjointed and disorganised society where everyone aims to preserve self. Everything rises and falls on leadership! Until we get the leadership project right, we may continue to wallow in abject failure as a nation and possibly proceed on a retrogressive trail. As Nigeria prepares for another general election to change leadership batons at various levels of government, this serves as the ultimate poser: ‘What manner of leaders do we desire?’ Of a truth, a leader cannot be different from the society and process he emerges from. We must tinker the process that produces leadership. It will be foolhardy to expect our situation to change either by expecting a credible leader to emerge by chance or through our usual laidback attitude. In fact, it is folly!

While we may not be able to correct the leadership errors of the past that have maintained us in a state of doldrums and subnormality, we do have the opportunity to determine our future by addressing the national leadership of the present. A word of advice to President Umar Musa Yar’Adua: As he prepares either a we-have-reason-to-celebrate or this-is-a-sombre-time-for-reflection Independence Day celebration speech, let him be aware that the onus lies on him to determine how we celebrate next year (and many more) Independence Day.

Being honest and possessing an amiable mien are not the fundaments of leadership. You can be the meekest and most incorruptible individual and still be an off-beam material for headship. Theodore Roosevelt once said: “The best executive is the one who has sense enough to pick good men to do what he wants done, and self-restraint to keep from meddling with them while they do it.” Moreover, courage is a principle he may want to adopt. A leader must always have the courage to act against an expert's advice. Whoever is providing leadership needs to be as fresh and thoughtful and reflective as possible to make the very best fight. Most importantly, vision is key to the success (or otherwise) of a leader. A leader is a visionary and not just a propagandist of mere agenda or beautiful catchphrases.

While I am still in a confused state of either ‘counting our blessings’ as a nation or switching to a reflective mood on Independence Day, I would want to implore Nigerians who are jaded by the present conditions to take active roles in determining the quality of leaders that will take over the reins of affairs in the coming years. If we fail to do so, I will be saved the hassle of writing anything different from this, in the years to come, except maybe changing the ‘49’ to ‘89’.

Her Excellency, Mama Ebe

We all called her Mama Ebe. It was much later I got to know “Ebe” is the abbreviated version of her last child’s name, Ebenezer. She was the cleaner assigned (by the maintenance outfit) to manage and see to the cleanliness of the staircase hall of our end of the office building. A woman of diminutive but plump stature, at an initial encounter, Mama Ebe would come across as someone with not so much of a fascinating personality. However, on a close study I must confess I have met not many individuals like this cheerful, pleasantly optimistic, hardly literate, elderly woman (probably in her late fifties).

The ever-cheery cleaner did not consider it a bother to greet or pass a word of admiration (or prayer) to people, passers-by and colleagues for the umpteenth time within a day. Even when we marched across the floor area she would have painstakingly cleaned during her mopping sessions, she would graciously remove the patches of stains without any complaint, murmur or scurrilous scowl on her face as was usual of other cleaners. Instead, Mama Ebe would step aside with a big, warm, hearty smile on her face to allow passage for the pedestrian and with a compliment to complement (pardon pun):

“Enjinia, iyawo ati omo mi nko? E ya’se o.” (Engineer, how’s your wife? And baby? Have a splendid day at work.)

“Enjinia, Oluwa a bukun fun wa. A o ni p’ofo. Yio dara o.” (Engineer, God will bless us. We won’t be losers. It shall be well.)

“E kaabo. E rora sa. Alaafia o.” (Welcome sir. Peace.)

In her characteristic manner, whether she was cleaning the window panes, sweeping and swabbing the floor, dusting the balustrades or sitting idling in her make-shift abode tucked under the staircase, her sonorous voice could be heard within the vicinity as she either hummed or sang most times, hymns.

Many a time when most of the cleaners had either closed for the day or skulking somewhere (within the premises) avoiding duties, Mama Ebe was customarily seen doing multiple rounds of cleaning even when it seemed not necessary. This baffled me and I made a mental note of casually asking her. The opportunity was made available when I had to make a trip to Mama Ebe’s end of town which coincided with her close of work. In her amiable manner, she asked if I was going her way as I reversed out of the parking lot. Mama Ebe stayed in a semi-slum part, uptown. In spite of the inconvenience encountered navigating through that end of town, I willingly gave her a lift.

After exchanging some pleasantries, I led off the “interrogation” in vernacular as we headed towards the suburbs.

“Mama, hope you had a good day at work. Please if you don’t consider it a bother, why are you often cleaning the staircase hall many times daily even when it appears it is not required?”

Mama Ebe beamed in her typical fashion accompanied by a chuckle that could only come from the depth of a heart that is at ease.

“Enjinia, ise ti won sanwo e fun mi ni mo n’se.” (I’m doing the work I’m being paid for).

“But Mama,” I interjected, “you do it with more than required commitment, at least compared to what your colleagues do.”

She sighed and replied. I tried as much as possible to translate and sum up:

“Engineer, you see, that’s why I’m a cleaner. What you observe as clean is not always so. Often times, though my physical eyes may be feeble, I can observe through my third eye as every speck of dust, every mote of debris travels and settles on the floor or window panes. And since it’s my duty to get rid of these I do it without hesitation. More so, I’ve learnt early in life that never let a mole of task accumulate to become a mountain of duty, which is more difficult to handle. In the same vein, frequent removal of specks of dust will eliminate having to remove almost permanent stains from floors and windows if the dirt is left to accumulate. So you could see I’m even making my task easier when I clean frequently. This I do with utmost commitment not because I’m better paid than colleagues or I seek a wage increase. Neither am I doing this to spite nor put other workers in bad light. It’s a standard I’ve set for myself. It’s my own definition of excellence. After each round of cleaning, I step out of myself and critically look at the work done. I query: If I were the employer, would I be satisfied with the quality of work done? Remember, what’s worth doing at all, it’s worth doing well. It’s only at one’s duty post, one could be judged lazy or otherwise.”

As we got to her neighbourhood, Mama Ebe insisted I pay her a visit and more importantly drink a glass of water all to express her gratitude. I indulged her. I parked by the road entrance leading to her quarter – vehicular access was almost impossible. Judging by the avalanche of greetings from various neighbours, Mama Ebe was certainly a well-known and respected figure in this hood. She equally responded with much zest showering her usual prayers.

After opening the door to her apartment, she stepped in murmuring obviously a word of thankfulness to her Creator. I was inquired to take a seat in the living room while she got some drinking water. Obviously, the not too spacious living room did not spell any jot of affluence or form of magnificence going by the scanty furniture, unpainted walls, bare floor and an old piece of electronic. But one could almost grab a feeling of tangible tranquillity and decency. Though the fabric of the curtains and furniture was almost worn out, they were clean and evidently well-maintained. Other items in the room (wall photos and calendars, books, a cupboard and utensils) were also neatly arranged. I took my leave after drinking a glass of water she served in a manner that was befitting only for a king. Unknown to her, this grateful woman had made a lovesome lasting impression on me.

Ergo, months later, it was with great shock and a seared heart I received the news of the death of Mama Ebe as a result of a late diagnosis of severe diabetes conditions. I cried at the demise of a woman who taught me excellence is not copyrighted to the heights or berths of nobility but it can also be redefined and expressed on dirty floors and window panes – the duty post – of an uneducated, benignant woman. Their bona fide “Excellencies” are those individuals – grand or lowly, schooled or crude, enabled or disabled – who daily make every effort to accomplish not just what is obligatory but also go the extra mile in doing more than required in spite of the incentives or limitations.

I also learned from Mama Ebe that fulfilment may not necessarily be experienced through wealth accumulation or possession of goods. Howbeit, it will never elude a self-contented heart, affluent or not.

May her ebullient, contented and excellent soul, rest in peace.

The Nigeria of Our Dream (I)

This a sequel to The Nigeria of Our Making

“That one day this country of ours…will find dignity and greatness and peace again.” – NC (1899 - 1973)

The year is 2064 AD. The pulse of the epic crowd can be felt. It is one of hyperbolised but true elation, nationalism and oneness. Eye-catching and almost blinding are the colours, grandeur and fireworks that grace the Eagle Square. Seen on the mammoth-size videosonic boards is the equal stateliness and pomp that deck other venues – the Tafawa Balewa Square (TBS) in Lagos and the Liberation Stadium, Port Harcourt.

The promenades, cultural displays and high precision arrays of sentinels could not have made one more proud of res publica and country. The state box is studded with a regalia of intimidating personalities and dignitaries: 47 heads of states, presidents and prime ministers (both past and serving), 13 Nobelists, 4 kings from the oil-rich middle-east region, 3 monarchs from Europe and Asia, the UN Secretary-General with a convoy of officials from various UN departments, the Roman Catholic pope sandwiched by a fleet of cardinals, World Bank executives, international business moguls, state governors and innumerable luminaries.

The national event being celebrated is the 150th anniversary commemorating the amalgamation of the former realms delineated by rivers Niger and Benue and their resulting fusion, coalescing distinct regions of diverse landscape, culture, history and people into one nation, christened Nigeria. Even the vestiges of the artificer of the name would congregate in the grave to marvel at the turn of events for a nation that was previously marked for doom and perdition.

Through my mind’s eye, I try to imagine the possibility of what otherwise could be happening on a resplendent day like this – probably a disintegrated Nigeria where resulting seceded nations are still battling with issues that had plagued their mother nation right from origination: Corruption, insecurity, lack of essential amenities, civil wars, dire leadership with equal ominous followership, resource control, notoriety and other menaces.

With tears of ecstasy cascading down my cheeks, I consider ‘self fortunate to witness a day as this, more so at the twilight of my years as an octogenarian. I am still astounded at how the formerly ignominious Nigeria metamorphosed into a feted nation. Just yesterday, the headlines were flooded with news, rating Nigeria as one of the choicest destinations for foreign investments with a robust GDP (the fifth largest in the world), huge foreign reserves, a life expectancy of 93 years, state-of-the-art transport systems, healthcare facilities that are now the envy of once industrialised nations à la Germany, France and Italy. Not surprisingly, the Nigeria story has become a case study for many developing nations of how to transform from a failed state to a blooming nation.

At the moment, Nigeria is a stout source of credit to many countries including the US, UK, South Africa and Australia. What is more, the Nigerian naira has attained a world currency status seconded by the Chinese yuan and the US dollar. Over the years, Nigeria has also evolved to be one of the most prominent exporters of agricultural products like cassava, palm oil, cocoa, cotton, cereals, rubber, groundnut and other mineral merchandise (coal, tin, columbite, iron ore, steel, limestone, kaolin, etc) while the one time (in)famous resource she was known for as the 7th largest exporter – the crude oil – (which fouled her environment, stained the hands of her politicians, jeopardised her future while bringing more damnation than boon to her citizenry), now meagrely contributes to its foreign exports. Interestingly, a country that once groped in darkness both literally and figuratively, currently exports electricity in modules. Other export products include much sought-after, made-in-Nigeria clothes, shoes and processed fruits/foods. Nigeria-manufactured cars are likewise in high demands worldwide especially brands like Geria, 9ja and Tiwantiwa.

Besides, the literal heart of Africa is an outsourcing destination for all manner of human resources. A couple of years ago, Silicon Valley entered into a bilateral exchange programme with the Ikeja Computer Village (ICV) in Lagos, Nigeria. In addition, the Zaria Security Academy (ZSA) (in Kaduna) popularly known as The Phoenix also in conjunction with Nigeria Institute of Policy and Strategic Studies (NIPSS) has been rated as an international top-notch centre for state security/intelligence personnel training in the same league with the Scotland Yard and CIA.

Seven of Nigerian universities are sitting pretty on the world-top-50 list with enrolment featuring almost 50% international students. Incidentally, among the Nobelists sitting in the state box is the Nigerian Nobel Laureate who clinched the coveted prize for his revolutionary discovery in the field of Medicine by founding a permanent therapy to an hitherto incurable virus.

Over the last 13 years, tourism has boomed to the extent that most Nigerian states now place embargoes on traffic of international tourists that flood their domains enriching their coffers, annually. In a similar manner, the Nigerian entertainment industry has not been denuded of accolades and exceptional achievements. The organised Nigerian movie industry, Nollywood has secured 8 Oscar Academy awards to its credit while its own annual, red-carpet movie laurels ceremony is a superlative event, no aspiring or contemporary star would want to miss. In the last two decades, not a few Nigerians have dotted the Orange and Pulitzer lists winning scores of prizes in all available categories.

As I continue to muse over the triumph story of how a quondam inglorious people traced their steps back from notoriety, bedlam and vice to honour, eminence and glory, I can see the Grammy-award-winning Nigerian musical group (a crop of young and brilliant individuals) mount the state podium to render the Nigeria national anthem in order to jumpstart the ceremony. With national pride exuding from and obviously visible on the face of every individual named “Nigerian”, we all rise to give harmony and meaning to the words that express the aspirations of long-gone visionary leaders, a call to service and fostering brotherhood, and an unrelenting occupation geared towards nation building.

I can feel a tug at my shirt. I believe it should be my 4-year old great-grand daughter seeking attention as she is wont to…………

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“Honey.” I could faintly hear the familiar voice as the tugging continued.

“Honey, c’mon. Wake up and put off the generator. It’s late already.”

My wife jerked me back into the present urging me to switch off and rein in the generator so I could retire to bed.

Could what I just dreamt of be a reality?: I self-queried as I reluctantly swayed from the couch launching outside to locate and silence the noise-making, smoking-transuding monster-machine called a generator – a companion we have had no other choice but to live with it since the Nigeria electricity company has long-decided to now supply electricity in kilo-dark hours.

To be continued. Watch out for subsequent parts.

Lighthouse is 3!!!

This article was scheduled for posting, 8th January 2009 (3 years exactly after the first online posting on Lighthouse). However, as usual the “thief of time” robbed me. No grudges, after all I’d get it posted eventually.

I’d remember clearly the urge and feeling I had exactly 3 years ago – I was stuck between my prison-size bed and desktop. The night before, I had a chat with Molara Wood who encouraged me to float a blog after reading hers and learning how to develop one (she might not remember this). Howbeit, I daunted the reluctance to stay in bed and I wrote and posted my first article (a line of poetry) online – for the first time!

My writing then was scurfy and tawdry. I was one of a lacklustre writer (not that I’ve been any different – let me try to be modest) but reading through my postings over the years, I’d say to myself “Boy! You’ve come a long way.” I’ve since learned that the way to “knowing” is by “doing” and “doing” more. The best way to write is by writing and writing more.

Over time, my articles bothered round various issues ranging from age to banking, comedy to leadership, love to urban legends with the most frequent on human development, society and Nigeria – a country I’m passionate about. My articles have featured in various newspapers, blogs, online journals, portals, etc and edited for a weekly TV series (coming soon).

More than a thousand days after the first posting, the objective of Lighthouse has remained unchanged:

“To provide thoughtful provocations all geared toward insightful and purposeful living, presented in a cynical, humorous and/or abstruse manner in order to guide to the ports of purposeful achievement.”

The name was fashioned after a literal lighthouse whose purpose is to guide passing ships against running into shoals or other obstructions. Over the past three years, I’ve tried as much as possible to provoke insightful thoughts in my readers regardless of the manner it’s presented – profound or sarcastic – with the goal of guiding them through issues of life, from my perspectives.

Writing has availed me the opportunity to vent my pent-up thoughts, discover a previously terra incognita part of me and most importantly establish forever-cherished contacts.

A writer’s world can sometimes be incomprehensible, exhilarating and uninteresting, all at the same time. I’ve had my fair share of a writer’s block the acme of which was experienced in 2007 – not a single article was posted then. The light of Lighthouse was dimming. Lighthouse was almost going the way of most blogs: Oblivion Avenue. No thanks to conducting an academic research/fieldwork, joggling between two continents, preparing for a wedding and changing location. Nonetheless, the Goddess of Blogville smiled on me. Lighthouse was overhauled and revitalised in 2008.

In 2006, I had a total of 7 posted articles. As aforementioned, 2007 was a year of writing drought while 2008 recorded an unprecedented number of posted articles – 25, without missing any month out on posting from March to December (July and August had the highest number of postings: 5 each). 25 postings in 10 months might not call for celebrations on certain blogs (I’ve read blogs with over 60 postings in a month!) but as far as Lighthouse is concerned, this is a feat (considering my schedule and other responsibilities) and I’m rolling out the drums!

Incidentally, my first posting on Lighthouse articulated in poetical lines the first time I experienced a natural phenomenon. The article was titled “The First Time.” (I started out on this line of creative writing but it’s arduous. I’ve evolved to be more of a casual, social affairs commentator with occasional fiction writing). As I write, I try to ponder how many times I’ve done things for the first time and how the accompanying emotion feels like.

As Lighthouse steps into another year, I look forward to doing things, meeting people, writing on new perspectives, visiting places, reading books (and probably doing other things you may get to know as events unfold) – for the first time!

My physical and mind registers are filled with many articles yet unwritten. As a senior friend of mine once prayed:

“I wish ‘self pen that glides well on paper and fingers that strike the right keys.”

Long live the art of writing!
Long live blogville!!
Long live Lighthouse!!!

As another Year Goes by

It is exhilarating to see the 365-day long loop being completed – while another prepares to commence. What is exciting about the coming of a new year despite the fact that nothing really changes – June remains the sixth month of a year, there still exist seven days in a week and the Creator of time nonetheless refuses to extend the 24-hour day by a minute? I believe the closing and advent of a year avail us new opportunities, fresh starts, anniversaries, chances to consolidate on the gains of the previous year, etc.

This annual closure and commencement can be likened to a moving train. At its point of departure, a train is boarded with passengers. At every train-stop, it drops off some of its passengers while picking new ones, most importantly it refuels. This it does till the full cycle is completed – back to its first point of departure to pick passengers afresh. Drawing from this analogy, as we end and commence a new year we usually (resolve to) keep good habits, healthy relationships and attainable goals while dropping the not too beneficial and viable ones. In the same vein, the transition between the old and new allows us to “refuel” for the journey ahead. We tend to ruminate on how to forge ahead in the coming year, strategising on making the best of opportunities while mentally, physically and spiritually preparing ourselves for new challenges.

In this outgoing year, I have had my fair share of lost/wasted opportunities, disappointments, failed/uncompleted projects, deaths of loved ones, working with difficult people, betrayals, etc. Similarly, I have witnessed the good times – I have grown successes with my hands, added value to myself, increased my mental and psychological capacity, established worthy relationships, tried to empower the less privileged, and many more.

As I write this, I discover I have always been caught in a web of delusion even as this year ends and likewise in years past. I have relentlessly dreamt of and yearned for “the better life” which always seems elusive. Within the quoins of my mind, I see and aspire for that illusionary “better life” – where the pastures are greener, the rivers flow still and the heavens drop fats. I have always been of the opinion that the next month, next year and probably the next decade will convey “the better life” come my way. The closer I get to walking into this life, the more subtle, vague and indefinable this mirage becomes. It keeps evolving (or am I changing my mind about what I desire?) and frustratingly eluding.

With the chimera of “the better life” in focus, I discovered I have denied ‘self of many chances of enjoying life’s precious moments believing better prospects lie ahead. I have failed to communicate with loved ones opining there will be opportunities to do same in the future (only to find out later they are no more). Many a time, in the bid of attaining “the better life” with its attendant hustle and bustle, I have lost touch with the essence and stillness of the person within – the real me. Alas, there is no better life than now – no greater moment than the present, no better opportunity than the instant. In fact, El Dorado or Utopia can only be witnessed when an individual makes an inward journey, halting at “life-stops” dropping off “expired passengers” while picking up beneficial ones. It is also expedient that one “refuels” in the course of this life’s journey. These life’s timeouts culminate to be the very life we desire – that “better life”. The greatest wealth and riches lie within. The zenith of heights is the depth of a soul that is ebullient of life.

As another year goes by, I have decided to live by the moments – taking time out to enjoy/endure each opportunity/disappointment that comes my way. This is not a call to reckless living, disregarding the “rainy days”. Howbeit, in the process of doing so life must be lived by the moments. The tomorrow we dreamt of yesterday is today. The future is now! Carpe diem – live the present! Life is short. In fact, it’s a dash as expressed in Linda Ellis’ The Dash:

I read of a reverend who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
From the beginning…to the end

He noted that first came the date of her birth
And spoke of the following date with tears
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years

For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth

For it matters not, how much we own
The cars…the house…the cash
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash

So think about this long and hard
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
(You could be at “dash-mid-range”)

If we could just slow down enough
To consider what’s true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel

And be less quick to anger
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we’ve never loved before

If we treat each other with respect
And more often wear a smile…
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while

So when your eulogy’s being read
With your life’s actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent your dash?

Stop postponing your living. Live the life – make that phone call, admit that fault, face that challenge, go on that vacation, write that email, picnic with friends and associates, enrol for that course, make that donation, write that exam – now!

The best of your years is ahead of you - and it begins now!

Eduwatch, Myself and Project-Jos Campaign

by Enitan Doherty-Mason

Eduwatch is an education nonprofit organization headquartered in Gaithersburg, Maryland U.S.A. that is committed to ensuring the meaningful education of Nigerian children in order to promote peaceful co-existence, global understanding and a world citizenry that is both responsible and productive. Eduwatch is non-sectarian.

Myself:It is not often in life that we truly find our calling. We find our careers. We find the love(s) of our lives. But few people are privileged to find their calling. To find anything twice in life is truly amazing and to be found by that which one loves is even greater. I count myself among the lucky ones. I found my calling as an educator earlier in life. I served in various capacities with all my being and found myself usually unable to leave work until the final "t" was crossed and the final "i" was dotted. There was no compensation for the extra time put in but I worked as hard as I did because I loved what I did.

Major aspects of my life have changed in ways I could never have imagined, but all of my experiences now lead me to believe that my calling has found me. My calling has found me by coaxing me along, pushing me along, dragging me along and kicking me along until my passion burned for the educational needs of Nigerian children. The world did not change I changed.

Why Nigeria? All the world's children need education. Yes. Nigeria. Nigeria is my first home as the United States is my second home. I have been prepared for the life I live by each country in different, sometimes conflicting ways. Growing up Nigerian provided me a strong educational foundation and cultural insight into the Nigerian educational sector and America has given me the technical skills with which to analyze, dissect and seek improvement as need be. My background has provided me invaluable insight that allows me to empathize with both a Nigerian and an American audience without being blinded by the seductions of either world. What once appeared to be my greatest challenges have become my call to action.

I have to admit that I wasn't always thrilled about where my name was being called because Nigeria, my home country, is a country full of challenges and paradoxes... and people; people who are frequently exasperating because they need an opportunity to understand other ways of looking at the world in order to improve their lives. Life had and still has a way of placing me where I need to be even though I'm not always in agreement while change is taking place. I am coming to understand that as long as I do my part, things will work themselves out. The universe has a way of creating balance although we may be blind to it. It is only through action that we can change the world and make it a better place to live.

The Project-Jos Campaign

Eduwatch is running a fund raising campaign through the end of the month of December 2008 for the purpose of supporting needy children with disabilities at Open Doors Special Education Center in Jos, Nigeria. The goal is $4,000 by Christmas and we still have a long way to go.

The Special Education Center/Unit in Open Doors Special Education Center provides services to children and young people with special needs. These students are not able to benefit from a regular school because they have a handicapping condition such as mental retardation, autism or other developmental disability.

This Thanksgiving season I am filled with gratitude that more of us are able to give back to my homeland with help from friends. While we understand that these are challenging times globally, we know that our children who are the gatekeepers of the future of our nation cannot be ignored or set aside until we are ready. The time is now for you to do your part. Cooperation makes things happen!

TO MAKE A CONTRIBUTION TO EDUWATCH PROJECT-JOS

Donation options:

~Checks (Make check out to Eduwatch specify Open Doors)

Mail to:

Eduwatch

8817 Swallow Court

Gaithersburg, MD 20879

U.S.A.

~PayPal.com (Visa, Master Card, Discover, American Express)

Eduwatch

eduwatch@eduwatch.org.

~Western Union or Money Gram or U.S. Post Office Money Order

Name of Recipient: Enitan Mason for Eduwatch

Address: 8817 Swallow Ct.

Gaithersburg, MD 20879

~U.S. Post Office Money Order

Eduwatch

~Amazon Honor System (Visa, Master Card, Discover)

http://eduwatch.org/donate.html

Nigeria Note: Contributions in Naira to the Eduwatch Project - Jos for Open Doors may either be made directly to the school's bank account in Nigeria at any Zenith Bank branch through December 31st 2008 or to the Eduwatch account at any Stanbic IBTC Bank branch.

Nigeria Note: All contributions/donations after December 31st 2008 must be made to the Eduwatch Account to ensure accurate accounting.

OPEN DOORS for SPECIAL EDUCATION LEARNERS ACCOUNT INFORMATION

~Zenith Bank any branch in Nigeria

(If check, Make check out to Open Doors Special Education Center)

Name of account: Open Doors for Special Learners

Bank: Zenith Bank, Jos

Account number: 6013302132

EDUWATCH (Nigeria) ACCOUNT INFORMATION

~Stanbic IBTC Bank Formally IBTC Chartered Bank PLC any branch in Nigeria

(If check, Make check out to Eduwatch)

Name of Account : Eduwatch

Bank:Stanbic IBTC, Allen Avenue branch, Ikeja

Account number:7200016875

Note: Naira donors, please let us know how much you contribute as we analyze information received from the respective banks so we can tally all donations into the total funds raised for this specific Jos project.

Donations made after December 31st 2008 must be deposited into the Eduwatch account to be acknowledged by Eduwatch. Please contact Eduwatch and specify how funds need to be applied eg. Programs or Specific project.

email: eduwatch@eduwatch.org

You can learn more about Eduwatch and it's programs by visiting http://www.eduwatch.org/

The Open Doors web site can be found at http://www.opendoorsnigeria.org/

WE at Eduwatch THANK YOU and WISH YOU and YOURS A VERY HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Lessons from US Elections

“I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: 'We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.'” – Martin Luther King Jr., 1963

“If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible, who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time, who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.” – Barack Hussein Obama, 2008

Despite the temptation, I tried with so much restraint not to comment or write about the campaigns and build-up to the 2008 US presidential elections. Not because I was cold-eyed or totally disinterested but my heart and head were poles apart regarding a particular issue and I never wanted to be despondent if I decided to follow with cacoethes. As a matter of fact, I tactfully avoided discussing this anytime it came up. The disquieting issue? I could not imagine the emergence of an African-American president! I hoped against all odds that this election would stay off what it is all about – racism – but alas it did not.

Howbeit, with keen interest I tacitly monitored (most times staying glued to the TV set in the middle of the night) how the pre-election razzle-dazzle played out from the gruelling campaign trails and travels to intriguing debates, blackmailing, name calling and even to a controversial transcontinental fund raising jamboree in Nigeria. I was paranoid to the extent that even when all kinds of polls suggested this election might be historic in producing the first black American president, I would still be (pleasantly) shocked at this realisation. I was pessimistically expecting the GOP and rednecks to come up with an upset.

This article is not to give an executive summary on the pre-election and election activities but after the dust has settled at the trail of electing the first man of colour to take over the wheel of affairs of the most powerful nation on earth, what are the salient lessons to be learnt?

President-elect Barack Hussein Obama would never have performed this feat without the rousing support of white Americans particularly the perceived rednecks and racists. Even if all African, Latin and Asian Americans had voted for Obama his win could have been too close to call. I think the real heroes of this election are the Caucasians – white men and women who are no longer blinded by the deceitful veils of racial prejudice. Particular mention must be made of the Clintons who despite having lost a most exalted seat to a black man still went ahead to campaign for him even till the tail end of the trail.

This election has come to prove the supremacy and efficacy of America’s kind of government – democracy. The people voted and their votes counted in electing a man of their choice. In addition, I never knew there was much gallantry and honour in defeat until I watched Senator John McCain (who I believe had superior arguments over certain Obama’s policies) gave his speech, congratulating President-elect Barack Obama while pledging his support and urging Republicans to lend same.

African leaders, Africa and Nigeria in particular must take a cue from this. The way we run our elections/democracies should lend credence to rather than disenfranchise our citizens from being part of the democratic process. This informs low turn-outs and lack of patriotism during most elections since citizens know the value of their votes does not go beyond the paper it is made of. Our politicians should also learn to take defeat with valour. This serves as an indicator of how matured they and the process are. As I watched the passion with which Americans campaigned, the superiority of arguments they allowed to prevail, the pains they endured on queues to vote for their choice candidates and the colour that graced the declaration of a president-elect, I could not but weep at the chance Nigeria lost to experience the same in the 1993 elections.

During the presidential debates, one could not but marvel at issues which served as the core of the candidates’ deliberations. From healthcare to education, foreign policy, energy, technology and the economy, these debates dwarfed and completely expressed how shallow our politics are on this side of the world. It is unimaginable and shameful that in the 21st century, most of our politicians still employ the tactics of construction of roads, provision of pipe-borne water, etc to crusade.

I felicitate with my fellow Africans – the Kenyans in being part of history. However, while they might have been part of producing the physical Obama sadly, no credit can be given to them in developing the phenomenal Obama, the whole world celebrates now. This is not meant to derogate Kenya and/or Kenyans but if Obama were to be born and brought up in Kenya with the past and prevailing conditions of governance, leadership and development would he have grown to be a Kenya president? This pitiful realisation plays on the stages of most African countries. Do our social, political and economic environments guarantee quality education, healthcare, equal rights and opportunities for our citizens similar to what obtain in the US? Food for thought.

Lastly, the actualisation of the first black US president realised in Barack Hussein Obama is not by accident. It reinforces the fact that change has a history, it is a process and most importantly, it is constant and has a future and destination – change is a journey!

In 1955 Rosa Parks was arrested for disobeying a segregation law in Montgomery, Alabama, that required her to give up her seat on a bus to a white person. Her bold action helped to stimulate protests against inequality. The blacks of the community organized a boycott of the bus system and were led by Martin Luther King, Jr. King and other black leaders organized the 1963 March on Washington, a massive protest in Washington, D.C., for jobs and civil rights. On August 28, 1963, King delivered a stirring address to an audience of more than 200,000 civil rights supporters. His “I Have a Dream” speech expressed the hopes of the civil rights movement in oratory as moving as any in American history: “I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.’ … I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the colour of their skin but by the content of their character.”

Barack Obama is a realisation of that dream! However, he took the bold step to run for a position that was hitherto considered a taboo and impossible for a man of colour to occupy. It must be accentuated that the Obama presidency is not an end to that dream but a pointer to the fact that one can achieve the seemingly unachievable – and even more!

The sitting of Rosa Parks, the march and inspiring speech of Martin L. King Jr. and the audacious run by Barack Obama tell us that change is possible in any circumstances. This goes to Nigerians and non-Nigerians alike who might have lost hope in Nigeria. We must be selfless and courageous enough to stimulate and/or contribute to a revolution we might not even live long enough to enjoy the benefits of.

This is the true spirit of the “Audacity of Hope”.

Queer Things about the Women in Our Lives

I had the extraordinary privilege of growing up with girls the first two-dozen years of my life. I’d count myself (un)lucky having only girls as siblings – absolutely no brother! There were days I really wished I had one. Nonetheless, most times I never felt the absence of one, considering the characters I have as sisters – I call them the sweetest thingies in the world. There was never a dull moment.

I must not fail to mention the peculiarities I had living with ladies through out my teenage and young adult lives. Growing up, one of such has to do with my identity. If I were to be differentiated from colleagues bearing same name with me, I was without a second thought referred to as “Wale Obirin” (the female Wale) – explained by the fact I had a feminine disposition rubbed off on me, as a dint of growing up with ladies!

I left home to be on my own in my early twenties and when fate thought I’d enough of half a decade of self-government, I was convicted and sentenced to a life term of living with another woman (as a matter of fact, now increased to two)!

I’m not a chauvinist and this is not to tell you about my Ms. Fortunes, but to narrate things I still don’t understand about these peculiar people after my almost 30-year “professional” experience of living with them. Though not weighty, these witty, trifling behaviours are still beyond my understanding. Whether you have them as mothers, sisters, wives, relatives, friends, colleagues or whatever, you’ll agree that the under listed mannerisms are queer in no particular order. Thanks to contributors who shared their experiences:

a. I’ve always appreciated braids on ladies. The beauty of this exclusive coiffure when shrewdly crafted ceases not to turn my head yet against its volition. But, you may want to enquire: “What’s queer about braids?” To all sincere intent and purpose, there’s nothing curious about this hairdo but what gravels me is seeing ladies leaving a couple of loose braid strands across their face awkwardly obstructing their line of sight. They occasionally toss these aside. Why can’t the freakin' braids be packed in a lot?!

b. I’m not a shoe freak perhaps that’s why possessing more than a dozen pair of shoes all at one time, bewilders me. I discovered some men folks are likewise infected with this bug. What on earth is an individual doing with this number of footwear?! Most of them are worn occasionally – probably once in a year, after which they are no longer fashionable – while others end up being relics or mementos.

c. Have you ever peeked into a lady’s wardrobe? Most of the “wearables” look fit for folks a decade younger than their owners. It’s often implausible how they manage to put on these outfits. Remember White Chicks – when detectives Kevin and Marcus went shopping, disguising as Brittany and Tiffany.

d. Our ladies sudden switch (when the occasion demands) to the posh or impeccable (in local parlance called “forming”) is mind-blowing!

e. Now hold your breath (or sight) for this: Having a mirror behind the sunshade flap on the passenger side must be a criterion for choosing and purchasing a car! That’s how I spell Q-U-E-E-R.

f. Why do the women in our lives think a man who decidedly stays at home is akin to a complete handyman (plumber, electrician, gardener, carpenter, garbage man, driver, gateman and all – the fullworks, I must say). Someone should know I’m not complaining, just enquiring.

g. What’s that thing that infuriates women when one fails to follow the tenets of eating breakfast, lunch and dinner? Are you obliged to always show up at the table even when there’s no abdominal space to tuck meals in? More questions than answers.

h. A brain teaser: No matter how much more you earn than them, they end up having more than you do.

i. Another one that will boggle me forever: You take a strong stand concerning an issue. You promise ‘self even if Hitler bellows from h*ll or Mother Theresa sheds tears from Abraham’s bosom you ain’t gonna shift an inch. Nonetheless, the women in our lives find their way around, above, under or through this stance and our deportment falls like a pack of cards or melts like peanut butter by the hearth. Who if truth be told is indeed the weaker sex?

j. Whenever you do their bidding you’re a darling or a perfect gentleman. As a matter of fact, Denzel Washington is just trailing. However, when you don’t: You don’t know how to treat a lady!

k. When you have them as colleagues, they’re keen to show you “what a man can do, a woman can do battering.” Oops! I mean “better”.

l. A couple of times, I’ve tried to keep up with the Cadavers Kardashians, discovering why TV remotes grow wings (to reappear much later) when soaps like Paloma, Demented Desperate Housewives, Second Chance et al were aired. Each time, my eyes increased in weight and changed colour (means drooped with sleep).

m. In the bid of trying to impress (or avoiding to disappoint) the women in our lives, we end up accomplishing all but what we set out doing, even at our risk. I know a friend who almost electrocuted himself while trying to help a next door female neighbour who asked for his unknown slapdash assistance – the poor guy didn’t know jack about electricity and he never wanted to disappoint his housemate.

I guess I’ve to stop here for now.

Excuse me ladies, is it safe for me to come home?

It is Not in the Name!

A name connotes or expresses directly the identity of a person (or group of persons), place, event or being (inanimate or living). In certain climes and sects, a name goes beyond being a mere tag or nomenclature. Within most traditional African enclaves, the name an individual bears reflects either the circumstances of birth or a desired future. Moreover, in religious circles it is believed names do influence the fate of bearers – bearing an “unfortunate” name may compel the life events of an individual to be full of miseries and failures. Conversely, an auspicious name may from onset guarantee fortune for its bearer.

In contemporary times, names are still devised for identification purposes. In particular, organisations or groups of people are named in such a way to depict the purpose or activities of same. Howbeit, within corporate enterprises, while names may continue to remind stakeholders of or guide towards organisational goals, the role of leadership, content and character cannot be overlooked. Put differently, while the name of an organisation may spell its purpose, it is the people and not the name that drive the establishment to its destination of accomplishment or otherwise, failure.

Many Nigerian enterprises, particularly organs of government have experienced various (re)naming ceremonies christened “restructuring”, all at no small costs. Regrettably, such changes in names have only brought more miseries, wasted resources, misplaced priorities and loss of focus to such organisations.

The first villain on this list is the present Nigeria energy parastatal – the Power Holding Company of Nigeria (PHCN). From the Electricity Cooperation of Nigeria (ECN) of the early 1960s to the National Electric Power Authority (NEPA) of the mid 1960s, the PHCN (birthed in 2005) has served every other purpose but producing electricity. In point of fact, in recent times it seems PHCN is in the business of generating, transmitting and distributing darkness in “kilodark-hour” – a situation that has turned the Nigerian landscape into a dingy, sinister jungle with dispelled sparkles of light (made possible by generators) when viewed aerially at nighttimes. Aside the enormous bills incurred on fuel consumption to power their generators, neighbourhoods and homes have to cope with the additional agony of noise and fouled air. Many businesses are crippled or at the brink of closing down due to attendant high costs of generating their own electricity.

PHCN staff’s inclination to work and mind frame beg for reason – a rationale to confirm the rot in the system is actually people-oriented. Until the issues of leadership, content and character are addressed, billions of naira meant to revamp the energy sector will ceaselessly go down the drain – or more appropriately put, the pockets of some heartless felons.

Another malefactor on the list is the Nigeria Police Force (NPF). It was once proposed to change the name to The Nigeria Police (TNP). What this security arm of government needs is not a name change but a lineament alteration. The core and fabric of our police force reek of endemic corruption. It also appears this sleaze is uncontrollably contagious. The system has a knack for attracting the most uncultured, aggressive and otiose individuals from the society and if and when it fails to find one, it transforms the unspoiled to septic and the adept to effete. A modification of name and/or uniform guarantees little or no improvement of our police force. Rather, a comprehensive system overhauling is expedient which entails scrutinising the character and substance of personnel being recruited while doing away with the fetid.

The Oil Mineral Producing Areas Development Commission (OMPADEC) was created by the Babangida military government in July 1992 “to increase the government’s involvement in ameliorating the environmental and ecological degradation of these communities as a result of the exploration and exploitation of crude oil.”

However, according to Cyril Obi “OMPADEC, like earlier official policies towards the Niger delta, was a gesture of tokenism. It ended up as a conduit pipe for the federalist bourgeoisie and its oil minority allies, and portrayed a grand strategy of destabilising the oil producing communities of the delta through divide and rule tactics. Worse, the limited contributions that OMPADEC could have made were hampered by institutional instability and crisis. OMPADEC’s first chief executive was removed from office after numerous petitions and allegations of corruption, and he fled abroad shortly after.”

Sadly, the story has not been different even with a transformation into the Niger Delta Development Commission (NDDC) in 2000 by the Obasanjo administration – the more things change, the more they remain the same. Instead of developing the oil-rich Niger-Delta, the NDDC has only succeeded in stupendously enriching a few individuals particularly the commission’s executives. Recently, the NDDC chairman was arrested for paying half a billion naira to a sorcerer, to carry out unthinkable things!

On the continental stage, the name-change syndrome fails not to play. Established in 2002, the African Union (AU) was formed as a successor to the amalgamated Organisation of African Unity (OAU) and African Economic Community (AEC) both established in the early 60s and 80s, respectively. It would be expected the AU will truly unite its integral country members, while they enjoy gains of their union like their European counterparts on the platform of the European Union (EU). On the contrary, most African nations have only experienced resentment and hostility within territories and across borders.

Lately, indigenous South Africans took to the streets destroying properties and taking lives of fellow African non-indigenes in bestial, despicable manner, claiming the foreigners were denying them scarce job opportunities. The situation remains a template for most African sub-regions. Furthermore, most African nations have only known tyrannical rule and despotic forms of government. With Muammar al-Gaddafi holding sway for absolutism in the north; the Eyadémas, representing the league of monocrats in the west; Mwai Kibaki sitting tight in a so-called power-sharing deal in the east and the octogenarian, shogunal Robert Gabriel Mugabe in the south; one wonders what name change has to do with regional unity and delivery of the dividends of good governance to people.

Actualising genuine, tangible and constructive changes must be premised only on structural revolution which addresses leadership, content and character – in essence, the human element. Without these, the status quo can only get sorrier no matter the brand of risible, splendiferous names organisations bear.