Showing posts with label Jos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jos. Show all posts

Monday 16 March 2015

WILL #GEJ WIN IT?


The political sphere in Nigeria remains charged, leading up to apparently, the most expensive heated elections in the history of the nation. Most analysts would say prior to the postponement of February 14, the All Peoples' Congress was charging to the finish line like Usain Bolt. But the shift in the checkered line, has helped the Peoples' Democratic Party, regain some stamina, and giving a push to the line.

To this end, a group of young party loyalists, aligned to the incumbent, President Goodluck Ebele Jonathan, a.k.a. #GEJ decided to put together an event, to tell party stalwarts why GEJ wins it. According to them, the President's achievements are under reported, so Nigerians don't know on what premise they are lobbied to return #GEJ for a second term by constitutional right. 

So, even though the organizers screamed and shouted that the event was a formal one, and there shouldn’t be jeans and sneakers, trust Nigerians now… Anyways, I called up a darling friend, and she was my date for the evening. They were economical with time, as they indeed said the event will go live by 6pm, and at around 6pm, they were set. See ehn, I was VERY impressed by the set up. From the stage, to the seating, to managing the movement of cameramen, to the speakers, sound, montage… See, they bettered the PlayForum guys a bit. I can beat my chest anywhere and say Naija Boyz can “did it”. At the heart of the technical setup was the “kekere ekun”, Segun Awosanya a.k.a. Segalink. Even though he had a resplendent seat in front, and he was dapper as always, he was ducking from the view of the cameras, darting across the entire space, and ensuring the whole thing thick.
In my mind of minds, I saw the name of the convener as “Karo”, and thought of only one twitter handle I know with that name - @karo_orovboni, and I went burst with it, as the convener delivered his welcome address. But indeed, it was @karoagono. Thankfully, I was promptly corrected, and the barrage of questions in my mentions stopped.


Mr. Agono insisted in his welcome speech, that you may differ in ideas with him (irrespective of what part of the country you live in), yet to him, you remain brothers and sisters I wonder if this holds sway across board though. 


And in the next 5 minutes, Karo adulated GEK in bard-like rendition, citing why to him already, “GEJ wins it”. Above all, he reiterated his angst on being told by friends in the opposition, that he had indeed taken money, to give his support to #GEJ (Countfreemont’s tweet). Again, he said you Yes, you have told him that if you support the opposition, you’re intelligent and cool, but if you support the government, you are intellectually deficient.

Sen. Anyim Pius Anyim then proceeded with the first keynote, and dropped a couple of subs for the 1st family, the opposition candidate – Gen. Muhammadu Buhari and a host of others. His first sub though, was for Mama Peshe. Because only a few days back in Akwa Ibom and then in Edo, she said it was constitutionally a right for her husband to get 8 years in office. Oga Anyim said instead, that #GEJ was not even concerned about being reelected… Itumo 



Again, he delivered a master of subs, when he proclaimed that #GEJ’s is the first administration where power is not concentrated at the centre, in reference to statements by one agile retiree, that there are indeed 5 Presidents ruling the country (sic). According to Senator Anyim, “Mr. President has no need to keep all the power, he’ll rather strengthen the relevant institutions”. He also said that #GEJ’s administration has guaranteed the stability of the national legislature, and it is not as volatile. Well, maybe Senator Anyim was asleep when recently, there was rancor at the national assembly


He also went on about the rebasing of the economy, and said it wasn’t really for bragado projecting Nigeria as the largest economy on the continent, but for it to capture the relevant sectors of the economy which were hitherto neglected, for the sake of national economic planning for the future. Again, he delivered a sub, this time to the party itself, when he said, “We are not working for reelection, but for the next generation”.


After his speech, an army of young, intelligent and daft Nigerians took to the podium, to espouse the achievements of this administration, from corruption *swallows flagyl for my running stomach* to SURE-P, 10 million increase in school enrolments even though UNICEF says Nigeria has about 11 million out of school children and even the small matter of the number of Nigerians – 44 million plus – now using the internet thanks to this administration. 


















Anyways, I was dazzled most by the speech of Toyosi Akerele (@toyosirise), and no wonder everyone else was – she’s a Jossite, like Mike Omeri and Labaran Maku *covers face* and myself. She touched me, when she hammered on the truth, that even though young Nigerians are now taking the handouts because if we don’t, the old generation will still pocket it, or dash oyinbo PR firms, we can now negotiate on our terms, because we are trailblazing across the globe, making Nigeria proud, even more than the government is (yet another sub).











With all the adulation coming in, Eghes Eyienyien gave a strong speech, thrumping up the achievements of #GEJ, but ended it all with a massive sub:

The evening petered in to one of adulation and reiteration of the same facts and figures of achievements we have seen on twitter, facebook, on television and even on newspapers. And then, the lie called Bala Mohammed happened. He claimed that there have been massive road expansions in his administration, with plans to develop new districts in the FCT, via public-private partnerships. 


Oga, didn’t mention that his administration like those before him, have neglected the development of Idu/Karimo Industrial District, which will have been the nerve center for small businesses and industries living in the FCT. For him, developing primed areas in “our own Dubai”, were key projects for his administration. And I dare to add, even the illegal conversion of about 20ha of designated green areas in Asokoro to residential quarters, without adhering to requirements of the Abuja master plan, is a part of it. Oga Minister also mentioned that they were working birthing a tax body for the FCT, to generate N300bn in revenue for the Territory, so that it can exempt itself from the national budget and be self-sufficient.


Wont for time, the compere took a couple of questions from online viewers and from the audience, with most of them focusing on the issue of power. Venerable Professor Chidenu Nebo reiterated that the power sector doesn’t work akin to “plug n’ play”. It takes time to run feasibility and evaluation studies, make procurements, import and install, but promised that power will be a demon of the past soon, especially if #GEJ is reelected. Oh, and he said, “#GEJ has overworked and over performed, but under appreciated”. 


 As the evening grew older, the speakers and the audience had the look on their faces that said one thing – “#GEJ will win it”. 



The event came to a prompt conclusion with the national pledge: I pledge to Nigeria my country, to be faith, loyal and HONEST; to serve Nigeria with ALL my HEART, to DEFEND her UNITY and uphold her HONOR and GLORY; so help me God.
Posted by at No comments:
Labels: , , , , , , , , ,

Wednesday 21 May 2014

Where's His Dream Gone?

I have a brother
Gone away with the winds -
Jos, where he tickled the skies
And dwelled between warm jaws.

We - the house and I will loathe
And curse his luck, his fate
For with lofty dreams they yoked him
And ushered him like a sheep.

Don't they slay on mountains high,
Sheep for wanton sacrifice, worship?
His blood mingled with a multitude
Dreams, nightmares, fantasies.
As they merried between boulders.

Sadly, when his blood let go,
His identity went with it in the wind;
Didn't you see the whirlwind above the hills?
Stirred by the wrench from beneath?

A thousand rains are now lined,
Father sky will blot the trace
Then his blood will cry
From beneath the soil where his dream went.
Posted by at No comments:
Labels: , , , , ,

Tuesday 20 May 2014

JOS

Dear Jos, of three scars whipped...
I heard, tore into your back again.
My darling, who'll save thee?

Posted by at No comments:
Labels: , , , ,

Monday 13 May 2013

JAWS



Aw, with this weather?
Let the bombs rain
Warmth come forth for
Those without a blanket
Merry where the cisterns leak
They will hug calabashes
And gamble away sanity
Like Zacheus, of Jenta Mangoro
They pay the taxman of spirits
And kill the fake heart within
Those without a heart fall
Within Jaws - the city from chaos
Where anyone with some cash
Gets to thrust at Jaws
Sensitive mandibles between legs
There it burns the most
The rampaging fire in his tap
Seeking to be doused
Posted by at No comments:
Labels: , , , ,

Thursday 29 November 2012

TWENTY-ONE KUSALA DAM DAYS: 2nd Sun Down

I was stupid enough to have a fill of laughter in camp today. Adults were behaving like children during the inauguration parade, and at some point, I was wondering whether I was the stupid one to find their acts funny, or they were really the stupid ones. It's 10:42pm on the 7th of July, and as I reflect and write on the activities of the day, I can't but help a couple of laughs, abstract enough to make the people around me think something could be wrong with my mental state. But overall, I did have a fulfilling day, if my expectations were to be considered. The height of it all, was when I met a bunch of guys from the Federal University of Technology, Minna. A lively bunch of dudes they were, and each one had a dose of laughter to dole. Not sure if I'd ever had a fill of sit-coms all my life as I did today.

I woke at 6:40am, ignoring the early morning bugle, summoning us to the parade ground, as I wasn't confirmed registered yet. I brushed in the open with other people staring, quite how odd it felt. I had Masa for breakfast from the mammy market, and finally got some place to take my bath. Atleast, I was getting acquainted with the geography of the camp ground. Then the bugle sounded, for us to gather and file for the swearing of oaths ceremony. I had managed to collect my khaki the night before, and still wondered what was going through their minds, when they were piecing together the apparels. Nothing wasn't left oversized and out of shape. Even the tailors who tried to make them bespoke, couldn't get them around to fit me.

At the parade ground, I made my first friend - Hosea Gana, a graduate of Physics. His friend Jey was from Jos, and was excited when I told him I had schooled in his native Jos. There was alot of protocols with the oath swearing parade, with the soldiers making a big deal of it, us, bothered more with the picture taking. You could see it from the faces of alot, that this was more of a milestone in their lives, than a new experience, in another part of their country. We then dispersed for lunch - mashed beans, on which I spread some garri to make a nice mix although the beans begged for a little more salt. Surprisingly, I ate with much gusto and was glad I didn't tell them to reduce the ration on the line.

Evening parade was at 4pm till 6, after which we were addressed by our Platoon Officer, talking about monetary contributions for inter-platoon competition and we taking it very serious. There was this selected Deputy Platoon Leader - Vicky, from Zuru who was getting in to my "likes" book. I quickly left the parade ground, and set off for an audition with the OBS -  Orientation Broadcasting Service. I was auditioning to be on the editorial and reporting department. Bumped in to a couple of lovely ladies from Lagos, who were no finding the sun here in Kano funny. Then I met a couple of Jossites, and wanted to scream out loud for finding 'kindred'. Gift talked with me more, probably finding fascination with my stories. She'd had a couple of laughs anyways. Her friend looked on, her mind focused more on something outside the camp than in it. I was already liking Gift's smiles though. They were always from ear to ear. I sent Egbo an sms, and she replied complaining of lack of sleep and all. I got a call from Jos, to learn that Ugo was finally getting back with her boyfriend after a few days of standoff. I wanted her to hold off for a few more days, but I guess she didn't have enough resolve either. I concluded, they both were just feeble hearted kids in love.

Lights went out at 11:42pm, just before I finished writing this. I had used phone calls and Carlos all the way in Liberia to strike a deal, which had me happy before going off to bed
Posted by at No comments:
Labels: , , , ,

Wednesday 25 April 2012

ROAD EATERS

We ate the roads
Sinewy comic lesions
Where offerings burned
Bread cast upon dry ground
It was at the skirt of Minna – sackful
Just before we chew dust
The monster that ate through the earth
The beast of Manchok
Lettuce from Vom came late
It ate two mountains
When we were transfigured
The wings of Bukuru
And ravaged the bowels of Jos
Posted by at No comments:
Labels: , , , , , ,

Monday 23 April 2012

JAWS

Aw, with this weather?
Let the bombs rain
Warmth come forth for
Those without a blanket
Merry where the cisterns leak
They will hug calabashes
And gamble away sanity
Like Zacheus, of Jenta Mangoro
They pay the taxman of spirits
And kill the fake heart within
Those without a heart fall
Within Jaws the city from chaos
Where anyone with some cash
Gets to thrust at Jaws
Sensitive mandibles between legs
There it burns the most
The rampaging fire in his tap
Seeking to be doused
Posted by at No comments:
Labels: , , , ,

Monday 1 September 2008

TROUBLES NEVER SINGLY COME

The winds wound round the hills and came tumbling in to the sleepy town, carrying heavy July clouds. In this part of the country, the months of July and August come with heavy dark clouds that causes downpour, sometimes for days unending. It was the second week in July, and the water aquifer was fast coming closer up.

Irish potatoes would soon be ripe for harvest, and the local acha will revel in the much rains. The rains always come with angry winds, which torpedo after crashing against the fore-slopes of the highlands. They will take off roofs of houses, uproot trees and cause fear down the bones of children.

The swoosh-swoosh snarls that engulfed the low heavens that evening, ensured that as many peasant farmers that made it to their farms that day, returned home early on to the comfort of their hearths. Some animal was scowling in the wild, probably lost, and the sound was coming from near the village gate. The winds continued to torment roofings made of palm fronds, even as the poorly made ones began to make way, and the old ones allowed water to gather inside.

Somewhere distant from the village square, close to the burial ground, about a few meters from the border of the village and the ‘evil’ forest that sits below the hills, the cry of a woman rented the air almost beyond the sonority of the winds. In defiance, the winds increased in noise and intensity, the rains now pouring down in anger and torrents.

From the north, almost in the opposite direction, lightening flashed across the grey skies and the resulting thunder rested at the base of an old dried oak, three huts away from the place the cry had emanated. The winds had died down now, but the rains continued to pour. The thunderbolt had ignited a fire at the base of the tree, and flames began to blaze in the rains, even as the wail of a newborn rent the steel cold night.

Ayuka was fatigued. She and the unborn had tussled from midday. She had prayed to the Good Spirit, to let her get a safe delivery, and the prayer included her labour, in her hut. But her wishes were not being fulfilled. She began to realize this, the moment those severe pains had started. She was tending young mushrooms on a strip of land, an echo from the thick of the forest. She thought of the bountiful harvest she was going to reap, and the profit she would make at Tallata market. And of the clothings and good healthy food she was going to stock for the baby. She would call the baby Arziki, and prayed it would be a girl.

The land was very fertile, and showed this by the huge growth of tender edible mushroom that grew from it. At first, she thought it was someone else’s farm, and overlooked it. Her repeated strolls through that trail, alerted her to the weeds that now competed with the mushrooms. No good farmer would allow his farm overgrown with this much weeds she thought. And that was when she took over.
Her tummy had been bulging for five moons now since she took note of the protuberance. As the days waned, she became aware of intermittent pains. Although she had learned from experience to be as subtle as possible, not to call up the bouts of snapping pains, she was carried away in her thoughts, and didn’t realize how rigorous she was getting with the tend.

That was when the pains started, and got unusual. Though she had witnessed similar pains in the past, they had varnished after some while. This one had forced her to abandon the tend, and head for home. She felt very sore from the pains and from her urgent pace to get home. And it was right on her way, that the tumbling winds had met her. The gruesome throes of labour right in the heavy downpour had left her muscles battered and aching.

Her under body was still on fire, like those times the illness overthrow and got worse because she had nowhere to go, and no one to call for help and had to lie in her hut till she began to feel better. On those days, the reproachful words of her father would ring aloud in her head, while Inna’s loud sobs burst tears down her sullen cheeks. She had had little time to take enough valuables before the Majjalisar Dattawa came calling. That day was austere and desolate. She had never felt love leave her like that day.

For now, getting the child warm was her utmost priority, as every bit of clothing was drenched and unsuitable for the occasion. The cold was fast settling in. She let out frequent sobs now and then, and the frequency was getting on the high side. However, she thought not of herself, as the little bag of life lay, yelling to the night.

She mustered what was now left of her strength, with a lot of gut, and snapped the umbilical, as she tried to separate the baby from her, to then clean up the mess. The scene was indeed gory, as she, in closed eyes undid the child from her, and silenced it in “first milk”. Not knowing from where the will came, she dragged, not in an attempt to get to what has been her source of shelter for nine moons now, but to get closer to the burning tree.

They both now desperately needed the warmth, but as the baby sucked, what remain of her energy seemed to drain with the flow of the milk. She had not had anything to eat, since she ate some of the tuber some benevolent passerby had gifted her the day before. She could not remember the last time she had ample food to eat, so she continued unending, to thank the man, until his bicycle had had taken him far from hearing distance. She had roasted a half of the yam, and planned to eat the rest when she returned from the farm today.

Rumblings continued in the sky, but were now from afar. The rains had now migrated, and only the Good Spirit knew what havoc they meted where they now poured. No one would complain by morning. “The rains have made repairs” they would say, as peasants with damaged houses would now go about renovating them, while those with waterlogged farms or severely damaged crops would count their losses.

But now in the cold dark night, a parliament of owls exchanged successive hoots in the not too far distance, the most resounding coming from the hills. She knew that owls told of bad augur, and hoped whatever it was, would be as distant as the continuous rumbling of the skies. Her only source of salvation was the fire, which crackled in the rich fuel of the old oak.

She was grateful to be close enough now, to provide ample warmth for the newborn, a baby boy, and to also keep away any wandering hyena whose path may seem to cross here before dawn. The fire crackled as if in response to her. And she prayed that it burns far in to the night. Then everything went blank.

The torrents had moved ahead, but drizzles continued in its wake. The heavens were just clearing up the remnants of clouds that were heavy some few hours before. On some occasion, it would drizzle on until the resolve of the people would force it to stop. This they seem to do by defying it, and continuing their normal business. Today, there would be no need for it, as dusk was already night, and the hearth would provide better comfort. Only by morning would any damage be of any significance.

Some rhythmic mantra broke the silence that ensued for about a quarter of an hour. It came from the hills that stand guard for the village. The marabou, whose duty it was to carry messages from the Good Spirit for the village, had made there his home. The place and its inhabitant were very revered amongst the people.

Between the hills and the village laid the ‘evil’ forest to which no inhabitant of the village was to step. It had human eating creatures; fathers would tell their children to deter them from hunting Agama lizards from thence. Only the Majjalis – the council of elders, after cleansing could walk the forest to the hills, where the Good Spirit lived, and the marabou made adulation daily. And on such occasions, like today’s, atonement and reverence would be their only reason to approach the hills.

The tapping of the marabou’s drum was notoriously paramount amidst the chant. The Majjalis was performing a ritual to cleanse the land of all evil and abominations. It was a yearly event. Twelve moons counted unending, and then restitution would be sought. The marabou had premeditated the day for the ritual, and hoped the Good Spirit would provide ample supplies of sacrifice. They had needed the blood of an innocent child, or of a stranger.

Now, the ritual had gone ahead. It would last till the early hours of the morning, around when the cock let out its first crow. Then they – the Majjalis, would tarry two more days to unwind, and travel down from the hills from where the marabou’s shrine laid, a watchtower for the village.
Posted by at 2 comments:
Labels: , , , , , , , , , , ,
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)