The Nigeria of Our Making (II)

Please read the preceding part - The Nigeria of Our Making (I) - here.

Our civil service provides a haven for the intellectual dregs among our graduates as the best of them will not want to touch the public service with a long pole. Even so, recruitment into the civil service is founded on high-level favouritism. Ironically, these not too savvy individuals are expected to run our polity and economy with little or no cerebral capability for generating ideas. Most of them can hardly administrate on a nuclear level yet we expect them to frugally manage resources and a complex, multi-billion naira economy like ours. It is satirical. In addition, our public buildings offices are filthy and cramped with ramshackle furniture and facilities; one wonders how the occupants work in such conditions. This might explain why most of the office personnel are always unruly and irritable (especially secretaries/front-desk officers). Moreover, it is only in our civil service a “tip” must compulsorily precede a service to be rendered; otherwise your file will eternally gather dust in the in-tray.

This mind frame of instant gratification has undermined the dignity of hard work and moral excellence. This is evident in the newly-found occupation of a lot of young Nigerians – the advance fee fraud, which in local parlance is called yahoo yahoo. Cyber cafes are overcrowded with able-bodied youths who spend a greater part of their time surfing the cyberspace looking for unsuspecting, greedy and gullible individuals to prey. If only these layabouts could divert their mental prowess to doing something honourable and more profitable….

Looking into security issues brings to the forefront our security agencies especially the police. The police force has remained a hydra which has persistently reared its ugly monstrous heads. It seems the force has a knack for attracting the most uncultured, aggressive and otiose individuals from the society. At any of their numerous check points (or more appropriately put, toll gates), they scrutinise vehicle particulars with fault-finding intensity in order to extort and not necessarily to correct. Moreover, one will be asking for trouble by conversing with a police officer in English. The situation does not differ for almost every rank within the police force. Besides, it all seems a systemic sleaze virus runs through the force. However, the blame lies not only with these individuals. A peep into the working and living conditions of a typical police station or barrack respectively, will make one understand why it is impossible for the Ethiopian to change his skin or a leopard, its spots. It cannot be more succinctly put.

This is the mire the political/ruling class has dragged the Nigerian sectors into while it perches on firm, comfortable grounds. It is in their voracious interest that it remains so. Otherwise, on their trips to industrialised countries abroad, why would they not yearn to imitate even a mirage of what obtains there? Or are they void of ideas? I think so, with particular reference to their usual election campaign briefs. In the 21st century, most of our politicians still employ the tactics of construction of roads, provision of pipe-borne water, etc to crusade, when real issues are being debated on campaign platforms in developed regions. What a shame! When they wish to feed their unquenchable desires for material wealth, quest for power or cover their despicable acts, they divide the masses on ethnic, socio-cultural and religious lines, while the evidences of their corrupt practices have no ethnic or religious boundary. This muddle has disenfranchised a lot of Nigerians. Many are nonchalant and totally disinterested in governance. A colleague once highlighted the irresponsibility of the Nigerian government: My friend provides his own power using a generator (which many Nigerians can identify with) due to a blackout situation that has come to stay. He bores the ground to supply his own water. He pays through his nose to send his children to private schools since our public schools are nothing but shambles. He arranges private security both for his house and within his neighbourhood. These are the essentials a responsible government should provide. If it fails to, why should any of its citizens hold it credible?

Paradoxically, our leaders are from among us – they are not imported. As a people, we only get the kind of leaders we warrant. We celebrate vanity, materialism and mediocrity rejecting integrity, values and astuteness. This explains why a confirmed villain public officer will parade himself as a heroic icon among the people he steals from. What manner of people are we? We desperately take advantage of ourselves at any level of power occupation irrespective of how diminutive it is (e.g. from the gate keeper to the treasury keeper). We live in a society where we care less for one another, why should our so-called leaders care about us? The other day I passed by a completely burnt car. I queried: How would a car incinerate to that extent while other vehicles passed by? All the poor driver would get were faces of bewilderment from passers-by instead of a couple of fire extinguishers to save him from his misfortune. In any case, how many vehicle owners have these extinguishers? Even at that, most are expired. I once read an article where the writer questioned the knowledge of Nigerian vehicle owners about their tyre pressure, fuel tank capacity, etc. We commute ourselves on death traps (called roads) and in rickety, perilous commercial transport vehicles that are not even suitable to convey animals. Our transportation system is degenerated to the extent that motorcycles popularly known as okadas have taken over our roads with high-handed recklessness. Accident victims are in a better position to elaborate. Are we progressing or evolving two or three cycles of development backward? Our elites may seem to live in apathy but they cannot deny and are not safe from the anxiety and impending uprising around them. It is just a matter of time.

Lastly, the society at large is uninformed. Our public libraries (if they still exist) are now national museums for outdated references. The tenets of Civics and Social studies have disappeared from our schools curricula. Most of us do not have even a copy of the constitution (no matter how flawed it is) not to mention knowing what it reads. We bastardise everything (that works in other places) including time and we call it the “Nigerian factor.” At social events, special guests and dignitaries are not expected to be at the venues on time as this will belittle their status. Our religion lacks strength of character. Despite the overflow of religious outreaches we have in this country, it seems as if the principles of good morals and integrity are inversely related to the number of churches and mosques around us. We have totally redefined what religion is all about. Most Nigerians abroad do not want to touch Nigeria with a long pole. They talk as if they are not Nigerians in the first place. Moreover, when interacting with them, most can be easily interpreted to have escaped from a war-torn zone, a crisis or a modern day hell. This might not be far from the truth.

The foregoing forlornly paints a picture of chaos, gloom, crisis and hopelessness. Nonetheless, ours is not an irredeemable destiny. Nigeria – the sleeping giant – is the key not only to its renascent but also, that of the black man. A branded, prestigious and industrialised Nigeria is not “a pie in the sky.” From our chaos we can teach the world a new social order and excellence. Our seeming hopelessness is the only raw material needed to crusade for a rejuvenated, hope-full future. We can rise from the ashes of our past and present crises to build a nation where its people can hold their own, anywhere in the world. We can begin by asking ourselves: Where do we go from here? Thereafter, collective and committed action must be taken to create a Nigeria of our dream.

Please read the sequel - The Nigeria of Our Dream - here.

The Nigeria of Our Making (I)

“All organisms, including humans, are greatly influenced by the consequences produced by their own behaviour.” - B. F. Skinner (1904 - 1990)

The reality of what we as Nigerians have turned our country into is unfathomable and gruesome. Owing to our (in)action we have subtly and (in)deliberately defiled all principles of nation building, corporate sanity and existence. The inevitable result is a nation without conscience - a people with no moral compass and of diminutive or no character; a modern day jungle where humans who are a little higher than animals, dwell. In the words of Chinua Achebe, a house that has fallen!

I made a gradual halt as I approached the junction seeing the traffic light change from the green-go to a red-stop sign. The driver behind me blared his car horn with careless abandon.

“Mumu, kuro l’oju ona. Kosi LASTMA nbe.” he shouted, sticking his neck out of the car window. “Mumu” in very genteel translation means “simpleton”. The driver simply wanted me to beat the traffic lights since LASTMA officials (the Lagos State traffic law enforcement agents) were not in sight. I wondered if I stopped because of them in the first place. He was obviously angry at me for obstructing his way. Whilst he was demonstrating his rage, a danfo (commercial transport) driver zoomed past cursing me with all manners of hands and face gesticulations and not without abusive words. My offence? I did not disobey the traffic light. With all these occurrences around me, I had to stare at the lights for the umpteenth time to see if I was not being a nuisance, unduly. Nonetheless, the red light stayed the same.

The other day, I once corrected a lady who threw her trash out of the window of the commercial transport vehicle we boarded together. The look of disdain on her face and the accompanying response cease not to amaze me. “It doesn’t matter.” she said, “It won’t make Lagos dirtier than it is.” I wonder if avoiding throwing garbage indiscriminately is just a matter of making the environment less filthy or about doing the right thing!

These two seemingly mere experiences capture what the characteristic Nigerian attitude has degenerated to. A diametric contradiction of this is termed anomalous. In simple terms, doing what is right in the present day Nigeria is viewed to be odd. I have asked myself rhetorically and severally: How did we get here? In the following, I tried as much as possible to sum up the current Nigerian muddle, no matter how cynical and derogatory it reads, with an objective to pose a most pertinent question: Where do we go from here?

The moral and ethic collapse siege on our nation has permeated all facets of the Nigerian system – education, public service, polity, healthcare, governance, religion, corporation, etc.

The quality of our education at all levels has been adulterated both in content and delivery. Almost every house car garage has been converted to a “Montessori” and/or “international” primary/secondary school. Our residential streets and cul-de-sacs are blocked incessantly by these faux schools to facilitate preparation for inter-house sports and sundry purposes since all the school surroundings have been built up to maximise profits from the business called schooling. Unwittingly, the innocent pupils tend to imbibe in their subconscious that they can barricade streets at will for no just cause and at anytime, no matter whose ox is gored.

Admission into our tertiary institutions is characterised by inexplicable nepotism. This might unarguably explain the proliferation of universities by every religious sect, state and local government, against the backdrop of the urgent need to increase the students-intake capacity and number of our institutions of higher learning. Majority of the resulting mushroom ivory towers (if they are to be addressed as that) are void of the most essential facilities and touchstones. By most standards and infrastructure-wise, they are extolled high schools.

What more can be said of the quality of graduates that are being churned out in their tens of thousand, annually? Appalling: To say the least. I would not want to undertake the laborious exercise of listing the repulsive characteristics of our contemporary graduates. However, one that will not fail mentioning is the lack of good written and spoken English skills. Most of these individuals can hardly complete a sentence in English (either written or spoken) without wanton grammatical errors. This is made worse by the advent of GSM text and online chat messages (with their accompanied inept abbreviations) which make some graduates write official correspondences like love letters. Office executives can bear witness. Conversely, their fluency in pidgin English (which they deem chic and fashionable) is impeccable.

The Nigerian graduate is not left alone in this pickle. Several times with disdain I have watched and listened to Nigerians butcher the English language (with no absolute respect for its lexis and structure) during interviews on television and radio. Should they be blamed, if we once had a Speaker of the House of Assembly that could hardly communicate correctly in English? It leaves one to muse if this same language remains our lingua franca.

Our institutions parade a charade of disciplines and courses with archaic syllabi on their curricula that provide little or no job opportunities for their respective graduates in the real Nigerian labour market. One would wonder why such disciplines should continue to be listed. Even the so-called prestigious disciplines like Medicine are not as celebrated as before. Our medical personnel are the most poorly paid when compared with their counterparts in the developing regions. This has informed an unimaginable flight of these much-needed human resources. Although it is obvious the quality of our education is pitiable, however if only we know how much resources go into training medical pupils, we will not want to lose them easily despite their ill-training. A few unlucky ones who have still not been able to ply their trade abroad are either grudgingly working at our poorly equipped abattoir hospitals while others are into something completely different. I know a doctor-friend who is now a full time interior decorator as a matter of necessity! The consequence of this unfortunate morass will be played out in the near future as we have succeeded in creating a generational gap of these special-skill individuals. Only time will tell.

Most of our graduates are not just unemployed but majority are unemployable. Apart from the fact that they lack the requisite skills to perform on a job (which is no absolute fault of theirs), they have failed to imbibe the proper work ethics. The typical believes a certain certificate should earn much income irrespective of his/her productivity level. Hence, they scramble to get all sorts of certifications with little or no consideration for self-application, personal re-orientation and self-development.

Kudos goes to the Nigerian banks which are doing a great deal to salvage a number of these unskilled individuals out of the overcrowded unemployment camp. Albeit, one must not be hasty to commend our financial institutions most of which were adjudged to be finance kiosks pre-consolidation. The post-consolidation of these banks did not but come with the Nigerian definition of banking. Our banks today are still witlessly deposit-driven while they are ever-reluctant to take even the minimum of risks to empower the smallest scales of business, not to mention the lack of professionalism, etiquettes, and work ethics a lot of them still portray. They have mopped the public of funds in all possible ways (IPOs, POs, mutual, integrated and hybrid funds, etc). However, these benefactors (the customers) find it extremely difficult to be beneficiaries of the same funds. In addition, coquettish young girls labelled as marketers are unleashed in an aggressive manner onto the corporate world to source for funds to meet the insatiable quest of these banks for deposits. Our banks CEOs have proved without doubt that these accumulated funds are just mere show-off armaments in their egocentric corporate armoury. Nothing more!

Please read the concluding part - The Nigeria of Our Making (II) - here.

‘300’ Will Suffice!

I recently read a synopsis of Zack Sydner’s box office record breaker movie, 300. This is a film adaptation of the graphic novel 300 by Frank Miller, and is a fictionalised retelling of The Battle of Thermopylae. Spartan King Leonidas and 300 Spartans fight to the last man against Persian 'God-King' Xerxes and his army of over one million soldiers, and animals drawn from the vast reaches of the Persian empire, ranging from Mongolian barbarians and Eastern chemists to African rhinoceroses and Indian war elephants.

This epic motion picture shares a lot of similarities with Gideon’s (a judge in the bible) who took only 300 soldiers to war against battalions of the enemy’s warriors. The bible records victory for the Israelites over their hitherto oppressors – the Midianites.

Thoughts of these events actually brought me into deep rumination especially after I had an unpleasant experience in which my laptop crashed. Being engineering software savvy (or better still, crazy), I always desire to have the a la mode installed on my machine. Unfortunately, these packages took their toll on my poor PC – an eventual malfunctioning of the system! After a strenuous system recovery (not without a loss of important files), I decided to install only the softwares I use regularly for my design work. Alas! I discovered I only use a couple of these most often out of the loads I had installed initially.

I can unarguably and profoundly identify with the stance of Spartan King Leonidas and Gideon – why take more than required soldiers to war (and unnecessarily relinquish armoury and kill your warriors avoidably) if the best 300 can do the job? This stands as a poser for most of us to interpret and answer in our individual lives.

The other day I resolved sorting out documents, old newspapers and other paper materials I had in my room which were taking unavailable space while accumulating must, dust and creating an undesirable ecosystem for all kinds of insects and crawlies. I discovered I had tittle-tattles of materials I had kept over the years which were nothing but worthless scrap. I had to garbage these stuff, unwillingly though.

For some of us it could be clothes or shoes we have in our wardrobes which we’ve not worn in a long while. For others it could be barrages of ideas of things we want to get done but unfortunately that’s what they still are – ideas! We have so many of them that we don’t get anyone executed.

I remember taking a Technical Report Writing course during my undergraduate days. Prof. Ogedengbe drummed it persistently into our subconscious (either via words or painful deduction of marks) that in writing technical reports or official missives “less is more”. Much later, Mrs. Sturrock (a TRW instructor during my MSc programme) made it known in every way possible that no one will ever be interested in a ‘bible’ of reports or an encyclopaedia of thesis. A concise report will always attract readers. Hence, whenever we desire that a document be read, she instructed us to KISS (Keep It Short and Simple). This might not go for every kind or style of writing but you’ll agree that it’s easier to remember the contents of a concise document than an otherwise bulky volume.

People in the creative business (architects, modellers, beauticians, etc) can't agree with me more that "elaborate" does not necessarily equate "elegant".

We get stuck in making critical and immediate decisions because we get our minds and hands soiled in so many entanglements that usually becloud our reasoning. A lot of us seek advice from more than necessary number of people or quarters. This leaves us more confused than having no one advise us in the first instance.

Have you ever wondered that in spite of the number of meetings our formal organisations or different forms of government hold, the number and quality of decisions reached are usually not at par with the time spent and efforts involved? J.K. Galbraith sarcastically answers:

“Meetings are indispensable when you don't want to do anything.”

In his words, Mark McCormack succinctly reiterates:

“When in doubt, don't call a meeting.”

Does the adage “Too many cooks spoil the broth” sound familiar?

Go take that step today. Make that decision. You don’t need all. You only need the best – the most appropriate, efficient, and expedient. Desire your “wants” but acquire only your “needs”.

You don’t need all your acquaintances; you only need your friends. You don’t require all your colleagues; your team will do the job.

In our governments, we no longer desire billionaire rulers
We need visionary leaders
Our businesses long for mentors and not CEOs
In our societies, we need not parents but role models
We need morals to be internalised, not laws being enforced
Our religions have multitudes of followers but no disciples
Our schools are full of lecturers but parched of instructors

Who or what’s your ‘300’?

Remember that ‘300’ will suffice!

Nigerian Banks, ATMs and Customers: Matters Unending

The edited version of this article was published in the ThisDay Sunday newspapers commentary on Sunday, 20th January 2008.

The evolution of the Nigerian banking sector as a result of the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) reforms within the last couple of years with particular reference to recapitalisation was welcomed by Nigerians with motley opinions interlaced with a lot of cynicism and goodwill. The (re)capitalisation exercise which was just one of the various items of the reform agenda as spelt out by the professor at the helm of affairs of the Nigeria’s apex bank, generated a lot of moots (I think capitalisation was it because it could not be said that a lot of ‘banks’ were capitalised in the first place).

Debated arguments ensued from all facets and sectors of the Nigerian public as both professional and recreational economists were all assaying to outperform one another in demonstrating their (un)reasonable persuasions to buttress their stance and to buy the inexorable party over. The unfortunate Nigerian who could not get any opportunity to and/or did not participate in the squabble (either due to his ignorance, nonchalance, dispassion or total disbelief in the Nigerian system) so as to advise from his ‘wealth of experience’ notwithstanding, hoped for the best either way the pendulum of the recapitalisation exercise swung.

About 3 years after the process was initiated, 25 banks evolved either from mergers, acquisition, reconsolidation, repositioning, realigning, et cetera (the list of the recapitalisation patois is endless) out of over 80 banks which were adjudged to be a conglomerate of finance kiosks. With all the arguments and counter-arguments that characterised the recapitalisation exercise with its resulting resurgence of the 25 banks, the customer should be better for it. Irrespective of any school of thought about the new face of the Nigerian banking sector I believe both proponents and opponents of the reform and even the banks ultimately want to make sure “the customer is king”. The underlining fact that should inform any posit with respect to the CBN’s reform agenda is to enhance credibility of the banking sector, increase customers’ satisfaction, empower businesses at all levels, buoy the Nigerian economy at large even as the robust banks serve as the engines to drive the emerging economy.

While it is obvious that the banks have benefited immensely from the process they were reluctant to be a part of initially (going by the robust capital assets they have acquired by mopping enormous funds from the public), alas! much is left to be desired with regards to their corporate responsibility both to the Nigerian economy and their customers, as above-mentioned (Please read Ijeoma Nwogwugwu’s ‘My Mercedes is Bigger Than Yours’ published in ThisDay newspaper, 26th November 2007). The banking sector continues to dominate activities at the Nigeria Stock Exchange. One would naturally expect this to translate in tangible and visible economic developments and empowerment of businesses; however this is not the case. This can be explained by the continued stunted growth in the manufacturing sector. It goes without saying that until the growth in the manufacturing sector is considerably at par with that of its banking counterpart, ours will not cease to be a service-oriented, rent-seeking economy. The Nigerian banking sector lags behind in its responsibility to provide core banking services. Our banks today are witlessly still deposit-driven while they are ever-reluctant to take even the minimum of risks to empower the smallest scales of business, not to mention the lack of professionalism, etiquettes, and work ethics a lot of them still portray. This remains a discourse for another day.

The use of the Automated Teller Machines popularly known as the ATMs is not a new technology. This has been in use in most third world countries many years back. All thanks to the banking reforms which brought the use of ATMs to the doorstep of Nigerians. The use of these cash dispensers wherever they are being used in any country of the world is always a win-win situation both for the bank offering the service and the customers that make use of the machines. However, this is not the same in the post-reform Nigerian banks.

An obvious advantage of the use of ATMs is the decongestion of banking halls. Customers can withdraw cash and know account balances without having to enter their banks. I schooled in the Netherlands for almost 2 years. Throughout my stay I entered my bank only on three occasions. The first occasion was when I had to open the account; the second was necessitated to effect a change in my residential address for onward receipt of my account statements and other correspondences; while the third afforded me the opportunity to close my account. All transactions (purchase of groceries, shopping, cash withdrawals, local/international inter- and intra-bank funds transfers, et cetera) were done via my debit card and electronic banking. Cash deposit was even made possible using the ATM!

While I am not asking Nigerian banks to deploy this “state-of-the-art” technology at this point in time (because I am sure the response will be “…Rome wasn’t built in day, bla bla bla”), the salient point being made here is that the use of ATMs play a big role in decongesting banking halls while waiting to effect the least of all banking transactions. This is to the benefit of both the bank and its customers. The customers and the banking staff are afforded the opportunity to face more pressing businesses, withdrawal/cheque slips are hardly used (which saves both the bank and its customers money) and an atmosphere of credibility, effectiveness and professionalism is created, among other things.

To reiterate, this new development in the Nigerian banking sector should benefit both the bank and its customers and if there are any costs to be borne in the deployment of this service, both parties should knowingly, consciously and agreeably bear the costs. Nevertheless, this is not to bear on the Nigerian banking landscape. I will give some instances.

Intra-bank ATM transactions in all Nigerian banks attract a service charge of N100 (almost one US dollar!) for every withdrawal. In simple terms, if I have a UBA debit card and I want to withdraw money (no matter how small) from, say an Oceanic bank ATM, the sum of N100 will be deducted from my account. This goes vice-versa for all the banks and for every withdrawal I make at any time, intra-bank using the ATM. This, I consider to be indurate and insensitive of both the banks and the service provider. During my sojourn in the Netherlands, intra-bank ATM withdrawals attracted no inordinate costs (if there were at all) to the customer. There was only a ceiling pegged to a daily withdrawal, using ATMs. Even if Nigerian banks are to charge their customers a la intra-bank reconciliation costs, interswitch service charges and other banking argots, I think N100 for every withdrawal is way too much for an average Nigerian customer to bear vis-à-vis the student, the market woman, the hawker et cetera who needs almost every penny to survive. It is mind-blowing to fathom the volume of transactions carried out daily via the ATMs. I hope an ignoramus like me will be spared details of rocket-science explanations that might follow this article.

Still on the cash machines matter, aside the intra-bank charges as above-discussed, some of the banks have taken a step further in the effrontery against its unsuspecting customers’ goodwill and appeal. These banks charge daily or monthly fees for ATM withdrawals. They likewise without conference to their customers knavishly charge for unsolicited SMS’s notifying their customers of any transaction actioned on their accounts.

While it is well understood that banks are not non-profit making outfits, banking should albeit be practised in a very professional and idealistic manner. Nigerian banks should desist from continuously devising means of ripping their unsuspecting customers of their deposits in trickles. Competent and professional banks make profits from core banking services and not from cunningly excogitated service charges. I wonder what happened to value-added services. If service costs are to be levied, they should reasonable, low-priced and the customers’ consent should be solicited for some of these services.

Let the real and proficient banks arise!

Fire on the Mountain - A Mind of Your Own

The advent of this enigmatic young lady musician gave hope to many of us that have been worried about the trend Nigeria-brewed music is taking. In the last few years, what we've had is a lot of hype, hoopla and high-sounding rhythmic beats with an assortment of sweet nonsense called lyrics. Every new musician on the block caught up with the fad offering the up and downtown Nigerian some ballyhoo to wriggle their bodies to but absolutely nothing to cerebrally agitate on.

The tomboy artiste has carved a musical niche for herself in the Nigerian music hall of fame alongside with Lagbaja, Beautiful Nubia, Age Beeka, etc. This is not about preferring a type of music to another but whatever the type, music should be of good quality while it physically and mentally engages the listener with its scintillating beats and provoking meaty lyrics. These individuals have consistently shown what good music ought to be. They've demonstrated that the message of love, social reform, public conduct, patriotism, family and community life, hope for the future, relationships, morals and what have you can all be interwoven into one good blend of entertaining music.

Enter Asa, the Tracy Chapman of Nigerian music. It will be dim-witted not to appreciate the works of Asa who landed on the Nigeria music shores a couple of years ago. Listening to the France-based Nigerian performer sing can't but captivate an individual. It's only a poor fish that will listen to "Asa [asha]" (her first album) that will not treasure this coalescence of good music. This is not a eulogy about this inspiring lady (although she deserves it) but to focus on one of the tracks in her maiden album - Fire on the Mountain. The lyrics of this track read thus:

Chorus:
There's fire on the mountain
And nobody seems to be on the run
Oh! there's fire on the mountain top
And no one is a'running

I wake up in the morning
'Tell you what I see on my TV screen
I see the blood of an innocent child
And everbody's watching

Now I'm looking out'my window
And what do I see?
I see an army of a soldier men march
Across the street

Hey! Mr. Soldier man
Tomorrow is the day you go to war
But you're fightin' for another man's cause
And you don't even know him

Uuh! What did he say to make you so blind?
To your conscience and reason
Could it be love for your country
Or for the gun you use in killin'?

So…

Chorus

Hey! Mr. Lover Man
Can I getta chance to talk to you?
'Cause you're foolin' with a dead man's corpse
And you don't know what you do

Et cetera

I will like to cull out a part of the lyrics which is the spotlight of this article:

Hey! Mr. Soldier man
Tomorrow is the day you go to war
But you're fightin' for another man's cause
And you don't even know him

The foregoing lines capsulate for a lot of individuals what their lives have turned out to be. A lot of people do things without recourse to their minds or conscience. In a nutshell, you can count individuals who really have a mind of their own. People have been enslaved by other people's cause, belief, religion, ideology, etc. While it's not erroneous to advocate (or even probably die for) the cause of another man, it behoves the individual to ask himself if he "knows" and "believes in" the cause he is ready to die and kill for. He should ask himself "What's my opinion on the issue at hand?"

To reiterate, a lot of us live by what other people (family, friends, colleagues and society) expect of us. We have been so wont to mainstream persuasion that our minds are no longer active to personal and active reasoning. What makes it worse is that we are not even convinced of these "ideals" the society or other people want us to live by.

This is not to ferment rebellion or unintelligent antagonism against generally-accepted and well-proven ideals, social conduct and authority, however it will be noteworthy to mention that people that have made meaningful impacts with their lives have always gone against mainstream opinions and persuasions with a good deal of intelligence, reasoning and most importantly personal conviction. These are people that could be said, they do have a mind of their own.

No invention (great or little, past or present) or social/national rejuvenation ever originates from one who has no personal conviction which most times will contradict conventional belief.

What shall I say of Galileo Galilei, Ahmadu Bello, the Wright brothers, Martin Luther King Jr., Nnamdi Azikwe, Mahatma Gandhi, Tai Solarin, Mother Theresa, Thomas Edison, Nelson Mandela, Alex Harley, Sir William Wallace, Lieutenant Andrew Summers Rowan, Obafemi Awolowo, etc? These great individuals did not become icons just by what they did but by what convinced them - the personal ideologies that fed their passion to stand for what they "knew" and "believed in". On the other hand, it was what they knew that personally persuaded them to become trail blazers.

I tried to summarise in the following punch list, questions that might guide us daily as individuals to live with personal beliefs and convictions:

a. When was the last time you said 'No'?
b. Do you always agree with every other person's point of view?
c. When was the last time you came up with your own idea on an issue?
d. How often do you partake in a constructive argument?
e. How often do you participate in discussions at work?
f. Do you look on in every discussion?
g. When was the last time you were convinced about an issue?
h. Have you always been able to stand your ground (with facts) even against constituted authority?

I hope these guideline questions will spur us to living lives of purposeful achievements, against all odds.

Dare to be different. Have a mind of your own - at least for once!

The Pangs of Guilt

Timeline: Saturday 1st March 2008, 1708 hours
Location: On my bed, somewhere in the quiet small village of Ikpetim, southern Nigeria.

I just had a short knap after having a stint of work at the site office writing my weekly report. I closed early from work today not necessarily because it is a weekend but my colleague had not been feeling too well. Hence, we decided to retire early so everyone could ‘hibernate’.

I woke up from a bad dream which really terrified me (details of which I’d like to keep private). It’s been long I had a siesta not to mention dreaming! After taking sometime to ease my mind off the memories from my journey into the ‘land of the subconscious’, I decided to do something constructive with the remaining part of the afternoon.

It’s been five days I resumed work here and over a year I updated my blog. My mind kept going to an issue I’ve tried avoiding for almost a year – updating my blog! Each time I thought of this abandoned task, great pangs of guilt seize my heart. I felt so much guilt for the death of many thoughts, ideas and unwritten articles that never found their way to the pages of this blog within the last 9 months. Well, I could aver I’d been busy but I can’t but ask myself – “What about those short spare times?” The pangs won’t go when I also remember a couple of individuals I had spurred on to start a blog and how well they’ve fared with this duty. I can’t imagine the disappointment they might have felt each time they tried to look up my blog to read nothing but musty – “What’s the use of visiting a news stand where all you get is stale?” I cast my mind back to the mails and phone calls I received from friends and colleagues in the past requesting I update my blog. The frequencies of these have reduced over time i.e. if there are even any more of them.

I scrolled down to a similar “bounce back” article I wrote when this same blog was “off air” for a period of time (see Bouncing Back ). It read familiar. Albeit, I decided to let these pangs of guilt to resuscitate my dying blog rather than knock me down completely. It’s better late than never. To a lot of individuals I’ve let down by not updating this column I offer my apologies. To a lot more that have stopped visiting this once vibrant news stand I say, the long-awaited change has come!

I’m bouncing back and this time around I’m bouncing back to stay!

"For the Laughs" Series (Vol. 1)

"I always arrive late at the office, but I make up for it by leaving early."

"The light at the end of the tunnel is the light of an oncoming train."

"As I said before, I never repeat myself."

"Time slows if you're on the outside of the bathroom door."

"Behind every successful man is a woman, behind her is his wife."

"Men who don't understand women fall into two groups: Bachelors and Husbands."

"Behind many a successful man is an exhausted woman."

"My wife ran away with my best friend. I sure miss him."

"If Windows is User-Friendly, why do you need to read a 672-page manual?"

"Computer Lie #1: You'll never use all that disk space."

"MONEY TALKS ... but all mine ever says is GOODBYE!”

"If you're not confused, you're not paying attention."

"It took me fifteen years to discover that I had no talent for writing, but I couldn't give it up because by then I was too famous."

"I'm writing a book. I've got the page numbers done."

"Success usually comes to those who are too busy to be looking for it."

"How to make God laugh: Tell him your future plans."

"Most people would rather die than think; in fact, they do so."

"Since light travels faster than sound, people appear bright until you hear them speak."

"When there's a will, I want to be in it."

"Winning isn't everything, but losing isn't anything."

"Oh Lord, give me patience. But give it to me RIGHT NOW!"

courtesy: www.kuzuzangpo.com

Warning: The foregoings are meant to be taken lightly.

A Day in Life

Grrrrrrrrrh!!! The alarm goes off.

Lucky little thing – it isn’t within my reach today. I stand up, put it on snooze and stagger back to bed to snooze likewise.

Ten minutes later – grrrrrrrrrrrhh!!! It goes off again. This time around it is within reach and (poor me) I put it on snooze once more. However, I slip out of bed and kneel by its side with blanket and all, struggling to start my day with some devotion, but alas I doze off again.

Grrrrrrrrrh!!! My obstinate morning crony goes off again – though so much loathed, I find it hard to do away with my alarm, or else…your guess is as good as mine!

Thrice it goes off every morning and you can be sure I am almost fully awake by then.

I stand up, cursing the cold weather and the early morning classes. Swagging towards my wardrobe I reach for my toothpaste and brush.

“Damn it”, I cuss. The toothpaste is finished and I keep forgetting to get a replacement. As usual, I squeeze life out of the poor thing – it gets its own fair share of my petulance (as if it has any feeling at all). I grab my bath case and all, heading for the shower.

During my short travel to the bathroom, I remember I have to prepare some sandwiches for lunch (By the way, I am not a breakfast-lunch-dinner person. I only eat when I am hungry. It might end up being once or twice a day. I don’t care, because that is the only time I enjoy eating. Quite a number of people have complained about my physique, but I think it’s one of the best in the world).

I open the refrigerator, to take out all the fixings that will make up my much-adored sandwich. I love my sandwich rich and bursting – with sardine, jam, butter, egg, meat loaf and any other junk I can lay my hands on. I hurriedly make two and place them in the toaster and retrace my steps back to the bathroom to take my shower.

Looking into the bathroom mirror, I can see my scruffy face.

“Oh no! Not today”, I tell myself consolingly, “I’m already late.” The shave will have to wait till another time.

I take my shower after a hurried teeth brushing.

Subsequent to applying generous amounts of body lotion, spray, hair cream, roll-on et al (no thanks to the cold weather), I face one of the time-consuming decisions of the morning – which clothes do I put on? Not because I have many, but it’s either they are not pressed or they are dirty! But not to worry, I always have a way around this - details some other time.

Getting dressed at world-record speed, I remember my sandwiches. I dash to the kitchen. Oops! Poor little things – they are burnt brown-black. Away into the dustbin I dunk them, as they are beyond salvation.

Back to the room I proceed to complete my dressing. I grab my knapsack, keys, wallet, head warmer and my cherished Sony Ericsson W800i phone cum walkman, wondering why I must attend this early morning lecture if I’m feeling this irritable (come to think of it, it’s not really compulsory I attend).

Nonetheless, I find myself locking the door and rushing to the lift.

Remember, Murphy’s Law: “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.” You got it! The lift refuses to open after a two-minute wait that seems like ages. Hence, I opt for the staircase and guess what – Yes! You are right once more – the lift opens and I fly into the enclosed shaft.

“Good morning”, I greet the two fellow sojourners inside the elevator, grinning from ear to ear (as if I really mean the compliment) and I plug my ears with the earphones of my “little piece of technology”.

Stepping out of the building, I am attacked by the first gust of cold wind.

“Damn it!” I cuss as I remember leaving my hand gloves upstairs. Too late, I can’t go back.

Oblivious of my immediate environment as I listen to my favourite Beautiful Nubia songs, I stroll (or better expressed, I hop) the 20-minute distance to school. On typical days unlike today, I always enjoy the opportunity (which I hardly ever get) of being on my own to ruminate on quite a lot of issues, as I leisurely saunter to school.

“Wally”, Tomi an Indonesian in my class greets as he tries to wave and at the same time delicately balance on his bicycle. I wave back, wondering when these guys will be able to pronounce my name properly (guess they might never).

You might wonder why I am trekking while other colleagues pleasurably ride their bicycles to school. Poor me, I don’t know how to ride one. Why not learn (comes the question)? The answer – I keep procrastinating.

With a sigh of great relief, I enter the school building dislodging myself of all unnecessary clothing accessories that have shielded me from the cold weather, as I head for the coat rack. I check the venue for the lecture on the notice board (never really bother to know the venue until I get to school).

Swimming through an ocean of “good mornings” to colleagues, I skid to the lecture room. I hurriedly join my prestigious and notorious assembly of backbenchers. We are most of the time three – Mario (a Mozambican), Nevin (a Zimbabwean) and myself – with some occasional members. It’s actually great fun sitting at the back of the class, as you are chanced to safely pass little tittle-tattles about the rest of the class, out of the range of the prying eyes of the lecturer.

As I fidget through my bag looking for my lecture notes, it just occurs to me that good old Murphy is at work again – I brought the wrong lecture notes to class! Never mind, “when there’s a mess, there’s always a means.” (Axiom/pun is mine).

Without saying, I share Mario’s notes.

We saunter through the morning lectures characterised by a quarter of an hour coffee break every now and then, as we refreshingly look forward to the lunch break.

“…So ladies and gentlemen we’ll see tomorrow. You can start working on the models on Thursday.” says Dr. van Dam, signifying the end of the morning lectures and the beginning of the much awaited lunch break.

After reading and sending a couple of e-mails, Mario and I head for the restaurant downstairs. There is always a lot of binges down there but you end up picking what you are familiar with, for two main reasons. Firstly, you wouldn’t want to experiment with your money and lastly, you’d like to avoid excessive damage to your bowels.

Mario and I join Pema and Kencho (two Bhutanese colleagues) on a table for four as we all wolf down our different kinds of déjeuner. As a way to aid digestion, we gossip (Oops! I mean “discuss” because guys don’t gossip) about various issues – our almost-becoming-boring stay, lectures and lecturers, assignments and exams, ladies, politics, sports, computers – and any other interesting subject that will pass for guys’ “intelligent” deliberation.

“Guys, let’s go and play some ping-pong men”, Pema suggests. We all agree. After disposing the remains of our meals, we head for the table tennis room to savour the remaining part of our lunch break. As usual, Pema beats us all.

The rest of the afternoon is not uneventful with Mrs. Sturrock’s presentation skills classes, where you experience all sorts of deliberations from individuals originating from different parts of the globe. We all have great fun during these lectures – at least nobody dozes off.

At the end of school today, I decide to go shopping for some groceries alongside with Suki (a Bosnian-Herzegovinan colleague) who doubles as my intimate pal and a “mother-in-law-to-be”. I keep teasing her that I’d do anything to marry her 16-year old daughter but she tells me incessantly that I’m too old for the girl.

However, she is willing to consider my proposal if I can show evidence of a personal bank account (running into millions of US dollars); buy her an 8-series BMW power engine convertible, a yacht and a house in Paris; sponsor her annual summer holiday trips and provide all the good things of life for her, so she doesn’t have to work for the rest of her life.

With all these suicidal demands, I sometimes reconsider my proposal and “love” for this teenager that I have never even set eyes on – I think it’s better to remain single than to self-destruct. Or what do you think?

Suki is always fun to be with as we talk about everything and nothing in particular. Today she recounts how her country’s national flag and coat of arms are continually being changed due to the disagreeable stances of the two coalescing countries.

After a shopping extravaganza that seems like eternity with Suki I head back home. Entering my kitchen, I empty out my bags as I endeavour to put “what”, “where” it belongs. I stand gazing up to the ceiling trying to remember what I forgot to buy. Could you remind me, please? Yes! You’re right – toothpaste! Never mind, there’ll be a way around that tomorrow morning. Why cross a bridge before you get there?

I take out my pot of soup from the refrigerator, to warm on the electric cooker (no microwave). I wonder why I keep warming a pot of a soup I hardly eat from.

I pour myself a drink and pick a packet of biscuits. I change into something light, switch on my computer. I try to read and send some e-mails, catch up with some latest news back home in Nigeria while I enjoy my snacks.

Subsequently, I make a couple of phone calls. During my talking expedition, Godwin (a Nigerian colleague and flatmate) rushes in and alarms, “Wale, your soup is burning!!!”.

I dash to the kitchen. Too late, the soup’s turned into a thick dark paste – that will be the second in three weeks! So much waste in one day – first the sandwiches, now the soup. I really feel bad about these happenings.

I stroll back into my room to complete my phone calls and tidy up other necessary activities.

Finally, I stand on my balcony gazing aimlessly into the moonless dark skies, taking in some fresh air. This is one aspect of my day I greatly relish, because it avails me the opportunity to switch-off from every distraction and allows to me to think – on anything. The length of time I spend is dependent on what is available to ponder on and how cold it is outside.

I step back into the room to complete some personal and devotional chores.

“Aawwwwwwwwh”, I yawn as nature comes knocking and my bed, beckoning. I pick up a John Grisham bestseller that I’ve been reading for only-God-knows-how-long. This is my last companion for the day, as I lay on my bed reading with sleepy, drooping eyes through the pages.

I can’t see the words any longer, so I put off my bedside lamp and.…..

“Good night”.

Bouncing Back

This morning, I decide to wipe the dust off my writing pad, after months of ineluctable muteness. All slip-ups are not mine – no thanks to the numerous lectures, assignments, examinations, fieldwork, group work, and other “brothers (or are they sisters?) in (h)arms”. Yes, that’s what these activities have been as I agnise the impairments they’ve infringed on my writing rights. Never mind, I’m just trying to push the censure somewhere else. Guess, I’ve to get a working schedule, if I’m to meet up with these obligations.

I realise there’re so many articles to finish up (many still unwritten). I can’t find my scripts and scribbles through which I’ve tried to express my thoughts one time or the other. I decide to tump over the whole room, (furniture, wardrobe and all) looking for bits and scraps of paper. I step back and stare after moments of unrelenting rummaging around – it looks is if a hurricane had just hit this shell! The poor room itself seems to be agonizing from weeks of accumulation of dirt.

“Hello, shell”, I soothingly say to it “I promise we gonna do some cleaning-up today. I promise.”

Nonetheless, scripts or no scripts, time or no time, I’ve decided to be like that lil’ ever-ready rabbit that just keeps going rat-tat-tat no matter what. That’s my resolve and that’s what I’ll keep to ‘cause I’m bouncing back to these web pages, and this time around, there ain’t no stopping me!!!

Like a Fleeting Zephyr (Part 2) - A Short Story

Fred could inescapably be described in simple words – happy-go-lucky. An initial notice of him never left an impressive opinion of a striking personality. Brown eyes, a firmly fixed nose, a pair of small lips that twitched intermittently, coupled with a smooth-shaven face did complement his gangling physique.

They met for the first time at an ordinary spot but in an unusual circumstance – a Chicken-and-Chips kiosk.

“Chips please”, they both chorused at the stand ordering for the crispy-looking bouquet of chips, at the same time. Looking inexpressively at each other, Fred offered her a wry smile.

“Please I’m very sorry”, the kiosk-tender alarmed, “this is the last pack I have for today. Just about closing for the day. I guess it’s only one of you that has to take the bunch.”

They involuntarily stared at each other again. “All right”, said Fred, “ladies first.” The kiosk-tender chuckled. “No, c’mon”, exclaimed Amy, “I’d always do without the chips. You go ahead and take the stuff.”

Fred took a mock bow, “I insist.”

The tender giggled out loudly, “Senorita, honour the gentleman’s request. You can have the chips.”

Amy, defeated, unwillingly took the pack, as she fidgeted through her handbag to pay for the snack.

“Care for some mayonnaise or ketch-up?”, the kiosk-tender inquired.

To be continued...

Adewale Ajani

© AMA January 2006

Like a Fleeting Zephyr (Part 1) - A Short Story

“No. Thanks, Hilda. I think I’d rather stay indoors to read some novels, have some nice burgers and watch some movies. You guys should have a nice time. Cheerio.”

“C’mon Amy,” Hilda replied with an insisting tone, while appraising her swimming trunk in the mirror, “you’ve been very busy with the volunteer group all this while. I think you deserve a break – take some time out at the beach, enjoy the warm radiant sun, meet a couple of guys…”

“I said no!”, snapped Amy. Hilda turned from the mirror and strolled in her direction, with a persuasive look on her face. “Hey, you’ve been unnecessarily edgy about this whole issue. A couple of hours at the resort won’t…”

“No! No!! No!!! Please let me be!” Amy screamed and burst into tears as she ostentatiously flung the hardcover magazine she was reading at an enthralled Hilda, who narrowly missed being hit by the novel by a trifle.

Standing perplexed and confused for a few reclusive moments, Hilda mustered up some courage to approach Amy, who had withdrawn into a niche of her bed, uncontrollably sobbing. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to do that, but…” she paused, “…you won’t understand.”

Hilda stooped toward her disquieted mate staring at her, obviously carked as well. Eventually, she sat on the edge of the bed dotingly close to assuage the feelings of her perturbed friend. “Amy, it seems there’s more to this issue about going to the beach. I’m quite shocked seeing you reacting like that.” She rhetorically inquired, as she soothingly stroke Amy’s hair. “I know I’m in the dark about something. All this while the feeling won’t go. Please tell me, what’s the bother and whole emotions about?”

Amy looked up. She momentarily stared into Hilda’s extremely bewildered face, searching for an assurance deep within those eyes. Her gaze dropped. “Forget it Hilda. You won’t understand.” Hilda didn’t give up. “Come off it girl. I can’t live with this feeling about you hiding something away from me. It makes me feel creepy and untrustworthy. Please whatever it is, you have a confidant in me.”

Again, Amy burst into tears. “All right, I will”, she mumbled between sobs, as Hilda affectionately drew her toward her bosom, “I will…”

To be continued...

Adewale Ajani

© AMA January 2006

Confessions on a Restroom Floor

Weird as it may seem, I always look forward
To an opportunity of visiting my restroom
Not only to answer nature’s ineluctable call
But to wassail the short privacy and secrecy
Availed me by none but Artemis* herself

Strange are the things I do and cerebrate
As I ticklishly and relievably counterpoise
On the rim of the majestically white throne
To refreshingly eliminate from my bowels
Spin-offs from the process of digestion

Stupefying are the thoughts and cognitions
That vivaciously gush through my intellect
“Eureka!” my mind involuntarily exclaims
As I discover long-searched-for resolutions
To erstwhile intricate daunting life’s issues

These unacknowledged life’s time-outs
Are always cherished and fully optimised
As I bizarrely sojourn in my restroom
With books, scripts, newspapers and all
That ordinarily don’t get my attention

* Artemis is the Greek goddess of nature

Adewale Ajani
© AMA JANUARY 2006

The First Time...

So beauteous the sight
Yet so cold the touch
So awesome the feeling
Seeing it the first time

Heard so much about it
Seen pictures of its immaculacy
But nothing can be exhilarating
Touching it the first time

Stepping into it I dread
Yet the longing is irresistible
Inadequate a handful is
Holding it the first time

Boldly I embrace its fall
‘Never seems to suffice you
When you experience the snow
Falling on you the first time

Adewale Ajani
© AMA December 2005