Thursday, October 28, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: JOY, OF A MOTHER!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: JOY, OF A MOTHER!!!: "...Later in the afternoon that day, we arrived at Ogwumabiri, in Omoba at last! Before long, we arrived at our house, the one that belonged ..."
JOY, OF A MOTHER!!!
...Later in the afternoon that day, we arrived at Ogwumabiri, in Omoba at last!
Before long, we arrived at our house, the one that belonged to Nnanyi John Nkwerre.
My mother was apparently weeping before we arrived, but as someone exclaimed our names, she rushed out with others in the house with her following.
She held both of us together so tight, that I was hurting a bit.
She then started singing, praising God and dancing. It then became a free for all singing and dancing.
As we got into our sitting room, with everyone singing and dancing, almost as suddenly as she took up singing, she sank to the floor weeping uncontrollably.
Eventually, we got to know that with our arrival, it remained my sister Meg, for all of us to be complete. She was weeping believing that she must have been killed.
My mother, grandparents and other siblings had all returned to Omoba as well, after having to run away from the town to villages close to Mbawsi, as fighting got into the town, which was eventually captured by Federal troops.
Apart from my sister Meg, one of my uncle’s, Dede Young, Da Gold’s elder brother had also not returned. So she was weeping for the two of them.
By this time, someone had gone through the common fence at the back of the house, to tell my grandparents that we had returned.
My grandmother appeared dancing but shedding tears.
My grandfather soon appeared, and they started to console my mother, telling her that the same God that brought me and my brother Sunny back safely would also bring my sister Meg and my uncle back.
My grandfather then started to sing thanking God, he eventually prayed for us all.
All of us, Big Daddy, my brother Sunny, Bj’s Daddy, myself, Erinma’s Daddy, Ada’s Daddy, my uncle Chidi, my aunty Gloria and my grandparents were all present. We had survived that terrible war.
Some days later, we were all at home one evening, when my sister Meg also walked in...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: HOUSEBOYS, NOT BY CHOICE!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: HOUSEBOYS, NOT BY CHOICE!!!: "...My brother was sent to serve in the house of an officer; I again, had to go with him. As it turned out again, he was a Yoruba man, who ha..."
HOUSEBOYS, NOT BY CHOICE!!!
...My brother was sent to serve in the house of an officer; I again, had to go with him. As it turned out again, he was a Yoruba man, who had commandeered an Ibo lady that was living with him.
This base was in a town called Nsulu-Imo (Nsulu-On-Imo River), the river was Imo River.
Again, I cannot remember how long we spent in this military base.
I however, remember that our routine was the same every day.
My brother Sunny would be sent to the market, or to the river to wash clothes, and fetch water, while I would be the one to wash plates and sweep and generally clean up the house.
When he returned and is within the base, I was then allowed to go to the river and fetch more water and then, take my bathe there.
We were never allowed to go anywhere together.
The officer was quite kind. He gave us some clothes, and gave my brother a wristwatch, and they would seat together sometimes when he was around, discussing in Yoruba.
After a while, I heard my brother talking with the lady, and she said she had been instructed not to allow us to go anywhere together, so we do not run away!
It was not long after that, that one morning, my brother was sent to the market, while the officer was not around. He pleaded with the lady, to let me go fetch water, so I could have gone several times before he returned from the market.
I eventually went twice, as she permitted me, and as my brother Sunny washed clothes in the house, before he set off for the market.
Before going, he told me he would meet me by the river.
He did and we ran off, with him carrying the water I was supposed to have gone to fetch...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Monday, September 13, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: NOT FREE, YET!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: NOT FREE, YET!!!: "...We continued to walk with them, till we came to a place where there were lots of palm wine trees. As we walked along the column of these ..."
NOT FREE, YET!!!
...We continued to walk with them, till we came to a place where there were lots of palm wine trees. As we walked along the column of these endless palm wine trees, there was a terrible smell all along.
Eventually, we turned off the road, and moved into the groove of palm wine trees, and then, I saw what the smell was all about.
As we walked on, I could see bodies of dead soldiers as far as I could see!
It soon appeared to me, that the place was close to a river. It was kind of swampy.
As we got closer to the water, there were more and more dead bodies. We actually had to walk over quite a lot, to keep going. Nobody was saying anything.
We eventually got to the bank of the river. A lot of people were there trying to cross the river.
I cannot remember exactly how long it took us to get there from Nkwerre. I only remember that we did not sleep anywhere, except where I had slept off. We just kept trekking.
My brother held me close as we waded through the river; a lot of other people were also crossing the river at this point. At a point, I could not feel anything under my feet!
He dragged me along till we got to the other bank of the river.
As we got across, there were federal soldiers on the bank, searching people.
When it got to our turn, after searching us, they detained my brother (I had to stay with him), with some other people, especially young women, with some elderly women wailing as the younger ones were taken away from them...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Eventually, we turned off the road, and moved into the groove of palm wine trees, and then, I saw what the smell was all about.
As we walked on, I could see bodies of dead soldiers as far as I could see!
It soon appeared to me, that the place was close to a river. It was kind of swampy.
As we got closer to the water, there were more and more dead bodies. We actually had to walk over quite a lot, to keep going. Nobody was saying anything.
We eventually got to the bank of the river. A lot of people were there trying to cross the river.
I cannot remember exactly how long it took us to get there from Nkwerre. I only remember that we did not sleep anywhere, except where I had slept off. We just kept trekking.
My brother held me close as we waded through the river; a lot of other people were also crossing the river at this point. At a point, I could not feel anything under my feet!
He dragged me along till we got to the other bank of the river.
As we got across, there were federal soldiers on the bank, searching people.
When it got to our turn, after searching us, they detained my brother (I had to stay with him), with some other people, especially young women, with some elderly women wailing as the younger ones were taken away from them...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Saturday, September 11, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: H E L P, NO WAR CRIMINALS HERE???!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: H E L P, NO WAR CRIMINALS HERE???!!!: "...You might not find it interesting, some of the imagery and accounts might actually be graphic and therefore, horrifying. You might even c..."
H E L P, NO WAR CRIMINALS HERE???!!!
...You might not find it interesting, some of the imagery and accounts might actually be graphic and therefore, horrifying. You might even consider some aspect, some kind of fables, fabricated to make the story interesting. Well, you are entitled to your opinion. I know what I saw and experienced, it was a real war. Not Rambo or Commando, or The Inglorious Bastards that you watch in the movies. So be careful about your agitations.
Besides, while I have not written a history book, I have made references to some events and landmarks that can be verified. I also resisted the temptation to make phone calls to request for names of places and dates from my mother or elder siblings who are still living, while writing this book. I chose to tell the story of the war, as it affects me, and as I remember it, about forty years after.
But I however, never recalled any of the main actors of that war, being tried for War Crimes at The Hague, whether for ‘oil’ or ‘diamonds’, like Charles Taylor…, instead, they have had their military ranks restored, and have actually been paid their pensions in arrears. I wonder who is going to compensate me for all I suffered and lost?
This is, just a thought, but a valid one.
But then, the politicians that precipitated that war are still pulling the strings, some of them from their graves.
Our problem has always been with incompetent, selfish, greedy and largely unpatriotic civilian politicians (and not tribe, not religion), who polluted the military class between 1966, and 1999, by getting them involved in politics...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Besides, while I have not written a history book, I have made references to some events and landmarks that can be verified. I also resisted the temptation to make phone calls to request for names of places and dates from my mother or elder siblings who are still living, while writing this book. I chose to tell the story of the war, as it affects me, and as I remember it, about forty years after.
But I however, never recalled any of the main actors of that war, being tried for War Crimes at The Hague, whether for ‘oil’ or ‘diamonds’, like Charles Taylor…, instead, they have had their military ranks restored, and have actually been paid their pensions in arrears. I wonder who is going to compensate me for all I suffered and lost?
This is, just a thought, but a valid one.
But then, the politicians that precipitated that war are still pulling the strings, some of them from their graves.
Our problem has always been with incompetent, selfish, greedy and largely unpatriotic civilian politicians (and not tribe, not religion), who polluted the military class between 1966, and 1999, by getting them involved in politics...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Friday, September 10, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IN WAR SITUATIONS, CIVILIANS DON'T OWN ANYTHING!!!...
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IN WAR SITUATIONS, CIVILIANS DON'T OWN ANYTHING!!!...: "...Eventually, we started hearing people who were speaking Igbo. We moved towards their voices. It was a small town. People were moving ab..."
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IN WAR SITUATIONS, CIVILIANS DON'T OWN ANYTHING!!!...
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IN WAR SITUATIONS, CIVILIANS DON'T OWN ANYTHING!!!...: "...Eventually, we started hearing people who were speaking Igbo. We moved towards their voices. It was a small town. People were moving ab..."
IN WAR SITUATIONS, CIVILIANS DON'T OWN ANYTHING!!!
...Eventually, we started hearing people who were speaking Igbo. We moved towards their voices. It was a small town.
People were moving about a bit freely, but there were still many federal soldiers moving around some in Landover jeeps, shooting into the air.
We joined the crowd of those moving, until we got to a place where there was another commotion. The soldiers had commandeered a goat belonging to an old man. The old man would not let go of the goat.
They shot him.
Two men plus my brother were asked to kill the goat for the soldiers. They did. At the end, my brother was given the head of the goat, he put it in my basket, and we continued.
By early evening that day, we got to a place where a lot of people had been stopped by the soldiers.
No one was allowed to go past this place. By this time, I was very hungry. We sat among the other people in that particular place. My brother brought out the goat head; we could only manage to eat the skin, which was partially roasted as they had burnt off the hair.
There was a terrible smell where we were seated. I slept off, on the ground. I was tired.
As it got darker, my brother woke me up, and then kept moving towards the bush, asking me to follow. I did.
Eventually, we moved into the bush, and then found out where the terrible smell was coming from.
There were dead bodies all over the bush. When the soldiers started to shout, as if following after us, we had to lie down among the dead bodies!
After a while, my brother got up and we started to move that night, through the bush. We walked all night, and just kept walking.
When it was day, we stayed in a cassava farm. He uprooted some kind of cassava, ate and gave me some to eat. We then continued to move in the bush, till we heard people’s voices again, speaking calmly...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
People were moving about a bit freely, but there were still many federal soldiers moving around some in Landover jeeps, shooting into the air.
We joined the crowd of those moving, until we got to a place where there was another commotion. The soldiers had commandeered a goat belonging to an old man. The old man would not let go of the goat.
They shot him.
Two men plus my brother were asked to kill the goat for the soldiers. They did. At the end, my brother was given the head of the goat, he put it in my basket, and we continued.
By early evening that day, we got to a place where a lot of people had been stopped by the soldiers.
No one was allowed to go past this place. By this time, I was very hungry. We sat among the other people in that particular place. My brother brought out the goat head; we could only manage to eat the skin, which was partially roasted as they had burnt off the hair.
There was a terrible smell where we were seated. I slept off, on the ground. I was tired.
As it got darker, my brother woke me up, and then kept moving towards the bush, asking me to follow. I did.
Eventually, we moved into the bush, and then found out where the terrible smell was coming from.
There were dead bodies all over the bush. When the soldiers started to shout, as if following after us, we had to lie down among the dead bodies!
After a while, my brother got up and we started to move that night, through the bush. We walked all night, and just kept walking.
When it was day, we stayed in a cassava farm. He uprooted some kind of cassava, ate and gave me some to eat. We then continued to move in the bush, till we heard people’s voices again, speaking calmly...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Thursday, September 9, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: CAN SOMEONE PLEASE DEFINE WAR CRIMES!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: CAN SOMEONE PLEASE DEFINE WAR CRIMES!!!: "...I could not sleep that night; I desperately wanted to see my elder brother, at last, a member of my family after so long that I had been ..."
CAN SOMEONE PLEASE DEFINE WAR CRIMES!!!
...I could not sleep that night; I desperately wanted to see my elder brother, at last, a member of my family after so long that I had been alone.
By this time, I learnt the war had ended.
The next morning, I was the first one to get up, ready for Udara picking, for a very different reason!
And as we got there, lo and behold, my brother Sunny was there!
I ran to him, and held him firmly, he too held me.
I narrated to him, all that had happened, and that I did not know where my sister Meg was, after she left me in the house in Owerri to say she was going to the war front.
All the same, I was so happy seeing my brother. But I noticed he was not wearing army uniform. The last time he came home to visit in Omoba, he was smartly dressed in his uniform, shinny boots and all.
But here, he was wearing some funny looking outfit. He asked me to go get my things that we had to go home.
I was very happy as ran off to get my things. I said goodbye to everyone, and went back to the Udara tree, to meet him.
As I got there, he checked the content of the bag, took one of my sister Meg’s dresses, a gown, and wore it over what he was putting on, and we set off.
As we got to the centre of the town, there were a different type of soldiers all over the place, they were Federal soldiers.
Some of them were just shooting into the air.
They were stopping people and searching them. There were many checkpoints as we walked towards the outskirt of the town.
At some points, the soldiers would stop all the men. Whenever they stopped my brother, I would stopped and stay with him, they would ask me to keep moving, I would start crying, not moving. Eventually they would ask my brother to take me away, and go.
At one checkpoint, they stopped all the men and were asking them to pull their trouser up above their knees. They would also check their elbows.
They were asking some of the men to move to one side and sit on the ground.
They asked my brother why he was wearing a woman’s dress. Fortunately for him, the person that was searching him spoke in Yoruba to another soldier, my brother responded in Yoruba that the dress was all the he had to wear, that it belonged to our sister. The man was surprised, he asked us to wait a while. They were actually going to ask my brother to join those that were being asked to wait; he had some bruises on his knees, which was why they sent him to this particular soldier.
I said fortunately earlier, because, what happened next was terrible.
After a while, the soldier that spoke in Yoruba came to us and asked my brother and me, to quietly enter the bush and go, when the other soldiers were not looking.
So after a while, there was some kind of commotion, and the soldiers shot one man, the Yoruba soldier asked us to go into the bush and go away.
As we did, we could see from inside the bush, they turned on all those that they had asked to sit down on the ground, and shot them!
We kept going inside the bush for a while, walking through farmlands and bushes, not really forest. As we walked, my brother explained to me that why they were looking at the men’s knees and elbows was because; they wanted to identify those that were soldiers. He said bruises at the knees and elbows meant the men must have been crawling during combat, that if that soldier had not asked us to go, that he also would have been shot with those other men...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
By this time, I learnt the war had ended.
The next morning, I was the first one to get up, ready for Udara picking, for a very different reason!
And as we got there, lo and behold, my brother Sunny was there!
I ran to him, and held him firmly, he too held me.
I narrated to him, all that had happened, and that I did not know where my sister Meg was, after she left me in the house in Owerri to say she was going to the war front.
All the same, I was so happy seeing my brother. But I noticed he was not wearing army uniform. The last time he came home to visit in Omoba, he was smartly dressed in his uniform, shinny boots and all.
But here, he was wearing some funny looking outfit. He asked me to go get my things that we had to go home.
I was very happy as ran off to get my things. I said goodbye to everyone, and went back to the Udara tree, to meet him.
As I got there, he checked the content of the bag, took one of my sister Meg’s dresses, a gown, and wore it over what he was putting on, and we set off.
As we got to the centre of the town, there were a different type of soldiers all over the place, they were Federal soldiers.
Some of them were just shooting into the air.
They were stopping people and searching them. There were many checkpoints as we walked towards the outskirt of the town.
At some points, the soldiers would stop all the men. Whenever they stopped my brother, I would stopped and stay with him, they would ask me to keep moving, I would start crying, not moving. Eventually they would ask my brother to take me away, and go.
At one checkpoint, they stopped all the men and were asking them to pull their trouser up above their knees. They would also check their elbows.
They were asking some of the men to move to one side and sit on the ground.
They asked my brother why he was wearing a woman’s dress. Fortunately for him, the person that was searching him spoke in Yoruba to another soldier, my brother responded in Yoruba that the dress was all the he had to wear, that it belonged to our sister. The man was surprised, he asked us to wait a while. They were actually going to ask my brother to join those that were being asked to wait; he had some bruises on his knees, which was why they sent him to this particular soldier.
I said fortunately earlier, because, what happened next was terrible.
After a while, the soldier that spoke in Yoruba came to us and asked my brother and me, to quietly enter the bush and go, when the other soldiers were not looking.
So after a while, there was some kind of commotion, and the soldiers shot one man, the Yoruba soldier asked us to go into the bush and go away.
As we did, we could see from inside the bush, they turned on all those that they had asked to sit down on the ground, and shot them!
We kept going inside the bush for a while, walking through farmlands and bushes, not really forest. As we walked, my brother explained to me that why they were looking at the men’s knees and elbows was because; they wanted to identify those that were soldiers. He said bruises at the knees and elbows meant the men must have been crawling during combat, that if that soldier had not asked us to go, that he also would have been shot with those other men...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: DANGEROUSLY HOME ALONE!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: DANGEROUSLY HOME ALONE!!!: "...One day, we arrived at the river, nobody was in the water. All the children we met there were standing by the river bank. Blood was flo..."
DANGEROUSLY HOME ALONE!!!
...One day, we arrived at the river, nobody was in the water. All the children we met there were standing by the river bank.
Blood was flowing in the water. We had to return home.
My sister Meg was already back home when I got home. She was visibly worried. She was angry I had gone out, but kept telling me not to worry, that everything would be alright. I did not understand why she was acting that way, but by then, the sounds of heavy guns were much nearer.
She went to the kitchen, fried some meat, and with the meat, packed some other foodstuff like garri, some roasted bush meat, powdered milk and some money, into a basket with a string around its neck with which it could be pulled closed. She then put a few of my wears into another small leather bag and said that whatever happens, I should not panic, but should carry only those two items, the basket, and the bag, and follow people in whatever direction they moved. She repeated that I should not carry any other thing from her room. She held me very close to her, very emotional, to my utter confusion. I had never seen her act like that. She is usually, a very strong person.
She then went into the compound and spoke with some of the neighbours, and came back later to say she was going to the war front.
She left.
By about six in the evening, the gun sounds were very, very heavy and very, very close!
The Kwara nu, kwara nu, unu dum! sound, I could hear it for real now myself, and not from a story told by my sister.
Soon, people began to shout and run about in a confused manner.
In all of the war time, this was my first experience of being in a place, when the inhabitants had to move away from the place because the war had reached that place.
So, I had no previous experience of what to do, and I was all alone!
This must be late in 1969, or early 1970.
One of my sister Meg’s neighbour’s –a woman, in the house came into the room to ask what I was doing. She was quite panicky. She asked me to start packing our things that we had to move out.
I remembered what my sister Meg had said before leaving. But before I could say anything, the woman started to help me with the packing or so I thought.
I on my own, I put some of my sister’s wears into the bag she had packed for me. The woman, after packing, took a suitcase out; she came back with her husband to carry more things.
They asked me to get ready to move out. I was still putting some wears into my bag.
By the time I got out of the room into the courtyard, they had gone, with my sister’s things!
Suddenly, there was a very loud bang nearby, people started screaming and running. I took the basket and the bag and ran in the direction that people were running, as my sister had said.
Everyone seemed to be moving in the same direction, as the guns sounded heavier and closer. There was immense panic. People were shouting the names of their family members, most were carrying heavy loads. I was busy looking at people’s faces as I saw those with heavy loads, thinking I would some how, see the people that carried my sister’s things. I never saw them again. But I remembered where they were from, a place called Ugwa.
As we moved on, the crowd became so large that movement became almost impossible because everyone was headed in the same direction.
As I am writing, I remember a discussion that I had in Abuja with two of my friends sometime ago, as I tried to tell them that a crisis of the type that I am describing would be in nobody’s interest.
One of them said he had made it a habit for all his cars to have full tanks every Friday, so that should anything happen he gets to drive off!
I laughed.
When it was not possible for people walking on foot to move, where would cars pass?!!!
Those who are beating drums of confusion, division and chaos really do not know what they are doing. It is either that, or they just do not care because they feel they would escape...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Blood was flowing in the water. We had to return home.
My sister Meg was already back home when I got home. She was visibly worried. She was angry I had gone out, but kept telling me not to worry, that everything would be alright. I did not understand why she was acting that way, but by then, the sounds of heavy guns were much nearer.
She went to the kitchen, fried some meat, and with the meat, packed some other foodstuff like garri, some roasted bush meat, powdered milk and some money, into a basket with a string around its neck with which it could be pulled closed. She then put a few of my wears into another small leather bag and said that whatever happens, I should not panic, but should carry only those two items, the basket, and the bag, and follow people in whatever direction they moved. She repeated that I should not carry any other thing from her room. She held me very close to her, very emotional, to my utter confusion. I had never seen her act like that. She is usually, a very strong person.
She then went into the compound and spoke with some of the neighbours, and came back later to say she was going to the war front.
She left.
By about six in the evening, the gun sounds were very, very heavy and very, very close!
The Kwara nu, kwara nu, unu dum! sound, I could hear it for real now myself, and not from a story told by my sister.
Soon, people began to shout and run about in a confused manner.
In all of the war time, this was my first experience of being in a place, when the inhabitants had to move away from the place because the war had reached that place.
So, I had no previous experience of what to do, and I was all alone!
This must be late in 1969, or early 1970.
One of my sister Meg’s neighbour’s –a woman, in the house came into the room to ask what I was doing. She was quite panicky. She asked me to start packing our things that we had to move out.
I remembered what my sister Meg had said before leaving. But before I could say anything, the woman started to help me with the packing or so I thought.
I on my own, I put some of my sister’s wears into the bag she had packed for me. The woman, after packing, took a suitcase out; she came back with her husband to carry more things.
They asked me to get ready to move out. I was still putting some wears into my bag.
By the time I got out of the room into the courtyard, they had gone, with my sister’s things!
Suddenly, there was a very loud bang nearby, people started screaming and running. I took the basket and the bag and ran in the direction that people were running, as my sister had said.
Everyone seemed to be moving in the same direction, as the guns sounded heavier and closer. There was immense panic. People were shouting the names of their family members, most were carrying heavy loads. I was busy looking at people’s faces as I saw those with heavy loads, thinking I would some how, see the people that carried my sister’s things. I never saw them again. But I remembered where they were from, a place called Ugwa.
As we moved on, the crowd became so large that movement became almost impossible because everyone was headed in the same direction.
As I am writing, I remember a discussion that I had in Abuja with two of my friends sometime ago, as I tried to tell them that a crisis of the type that I am describing would be in nobody’s interest.
One of them said he had made it a habit for all his cars to have full tanks every Friday, so that should anything happen he gets to drive off!
I laughed.
When it was not possible for people walking on foot to move, where would cars pass?!!!
Those who are beating drums of confusion, division and chaos really do not know what they are doing. It is either that, or they just do not care because they feel they would escape...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Monday, September 6, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: WHAT IS THE DEFINITION OF WAR CRIME?
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: WHAT IS THE DEFINITION OF WAR CRIME?: "...I cannot remember exactly how long I spent at Owerrinta, but by the time we got back to Omoba, trekking for almost a whole day again, the..."
WHAT IS THE DEFINITION OF WAR CRIME?
...I cannot remember exactly how long I spent at Owerrinta, but by the time we got back to Omoba, trekking for almost a whole day again, there now more soldiers in the town than there were before we left. They would usually parade about shouting and singing.
My mother was very upset when I arrived sick. They took care of my head, and I eventually got better and joined my other siblings and our friends to go into the forest to stay away from the now very constant air-raids.
But on Sundays, we attended church services with either my grandmother or my grandfather
One such Sunday, as we were returning from service from my grandmother’s St. Barnabas Anglican church hear the market, we met a crowd near the market surrounding some people.
We went close, to take a look.
At the centre of the crowd were four men, seated on the ground, with their hands tied behind their backs. Besides them on the ground were severed arms and legs, certainly not theirs.
Some people in the said they were Nigerian soldiers, captured from the war front. They were talking of cooking and eating the severed limbs!
They were eventually led away, towards our former house that had become headquarters for the army.
The next Sunday, as we came back from church, we saw a lot of people heading towards the place where the men were taken. We followed.
We arrived at a portion of land near where the army headquarters was, this was not far away from our former house. This portion of land is around a road that linked Umuokegwu road and Umu-Agu road. The army had a dump for some sort of crude oil close to this place.
A crowd surrounded a portion of the land. In the middle, there was a trench, some lifeless bodies were inside. There was another man standing blindfolded close to one end of the trench. There was a soldier behind him. Suddenly, the soldier lifted a metal object he was carrying and hit the blindfolded man at the back of his head, some of the people around shouted as if in victory, blood gushed out as he fell into the trench.
Some of the people were saying that the soldiers were rationing their bullets, so, they did not have enough to just shoot the men.
People started living the place soon afterwards.
I was horrified!
I felt very sorry for the man. The sight and the thought disturbed me for years.
This is one of the reasons for which I feel bad that none of the key actors in that war were ever tried for war crimes.
Not long after that, my sister Meg brought my eldest brother (Big Daddy) home. He could not walk. They said he was shot in the leg at the war front, and they were going to cut off his injured leg because there was no medicine to treat him, and there were too many injured people at the war front.
They also said he was very lucky that my sister Meg was around there that time, and smuggled him home.
They used a native doctor to treat him. He was always at home, hidden.
My sister Meg soon left to go back to go back to the front. She came back some time later, to say that the Biafran troops had recaptured Owerri, and that she had been posted there...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
My mother was very upset when I arrived sick. They took care of my head, and I eventually got better and joined my other siblings and our friends to go into the forest to stay away from the now very constant air-raids.
But on Sundays, we attended church services with either my grandmother or my grandfather
One such Sunday, as we were returning from service from my grandmother’s St. Barnabas Anglican church hear the market, we met a crowd near the market surrounding some people.
We went close, to take a look.
At the centre of the crowd were four men, seated on the ground, with their hands tied behind their backs. Besides them on the ground were severed arms and legs, certainly not theirs.
Some people in the said they were Nigerian soldiers, captured from the war front. They were talking of cooking and eating the severed limbs!
They were eventually led away, towards our former house that had become headquarters for the army.
The next Sunday, as we came back from church, we saw a lot of people heading towards the place where the men were taken. We followed.
We arrived at a portion of land near where the army headquarters was, this was not far away from our former house. This portion of land is around a road that linked Umuokegwu road and Umu-Agu road. The army had a dump for some sort of crude oil close to this place.
A crowd surrounded a portion of the land. In the middle, there was a trench, some lifeless bodies were inside. There was another man standing blindfolded close to one end of the trench. There was a soldier behind him. Suddenly, the soldier lifted a metal object he was carrying and hit the blindfolded man at the back of his head, some of the people around shouted as if in victory, blood gushed out as he fell into the trench.
Some of the people were saying that the soldiers were rationing their bullets, so, they did not have enough to just shoot the men.
People started living the place soon afterwards.
I was horrified!
I felt very sorry for the man. The sight and the thought disturbed me for years.
This is one of the reasons for which I feel bad that none of the key actors in that war were ever tried for war crimes.
Not long after that, my sister Meg brought my eldest brother (Big Daddy) home. He could not walk. They said he was shot in the leg at the war front, and they were going to cut off his injured leg because there was no medicine to treat him, and there were too many injured people at the war front.
They also said he was very lucky that my sister Meg was around there that time, and smuggled him home.
They used a native doctor to treat him. He was always at home, hidden.
My sister Meg soon left to go back to go back to the front. She came back some time later, to say that the Biafran troops had recaptured Owerri, and that she had been posted there...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: NIGERIAN REFUGEES, IN NIGERIA!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: NIGERIAN REFUGEES, IN NIGERIA!!!: "...At about this time, my aunty Gloria volunteered to help out with the distribution of food for refugees in one of the refugee camps. Event..."
NIGERIAN REFUGEES, IN NIGERIA!!!
...At about this time, my aunty Gloria volunteered to help out with the distribution of food for refugees in one of the refugee camps. Eventually, she was sent to a refugee camp in Owerrinta.
My aunty Gloria is my mother immediate younger sister.
She left, but came back home not too long after, to ask my mother to allow her to take me to stay with her at the refugee camp in Owerrinta. My mother agreed. I do not why she did. But I sure was excited at the prospect of seeing a new place with my aunty.
One early morning, we both left Omoba, walking through several villages, and bush paths till we arrived in Owerrinta late in the evening.
Little did I know that I was practicing for what would be a far much longer, lonely and difficult trek soon enough.
Didie, Owerrinta means ‘small Owerri’.
It is located between Owerri, and a place called ‘Ugba’ Junction, on the way to Aba. It is also not far from the Owerri Airport.
The refugee camp was inside a seminary along the road leading from Owerri to Ugba Junction.
The facility is still there now, very close to a naval facility close to the Imo River on the same road.
As we got into the camp, I noticed that it was very large, with lots and lots of people inside it. From their languages, they were a mixture of people from present day Cross River, Akwa Ibom, Rivers and of course Ibos whose towns and villages had either been over-ran by Federal troops, or are battlegrounds.
The scenario inside the camp, was like the ones you see on television of refugee camps in the Congo or Rwanda or any other such places where people had been forced to live outside of their homes, and then in camps, because of war.
Housed in whatever shelters were available, fed with whatever food items they were given, treated for ailments with whatever medicines were available.
They had no choice. They looked helpless, hopeless.
From inside the camp, sound of constant gun shot could be heard, not too far off. More and more people arrived into the camp daily. A lot of them wounded. Some of the wounded were in military uniform.
My aunty had just a bed in one of the dormitories in the camp. We shared the bed. It was an open dormitory, in a large hall with lots beds in it. It was always noisy, and there was hardly any difference between night and day.
My aunty helped out in different places at different times in the camp. Sometimes, she worked in the kitchen, sometimes in the clinic.
The clinic was the scariest of all the places she worked at. I usually left the dormitory to go to look for her around the camp during the day.
On one such occasion, I went into the clinic while she was on duty there.
I saw many children with bloated and almost transparent tummies all over the place. There were also adults with very scary injuries. Bleeding severed limbs, broken heads…There was a lot of screaming and wailing. The whole place smelt terribly!
They asked me to leave. They did not need to because I was too scared, to want to stay.
When my aunty came back to the dormitory later in the evening, she was upset with me for getting to the clinic.
I never went there gain on my own, except the day I was carried there, unconscious...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
My aunty Gloria is my mother immediate younger sister.
She left, but came back home not too long after, to ask my mother to allow her to take me to stay with her at the refugee camp in Owerrinta. My mother agreed. I do not why she did. But I sure was excited at the prospect of seeing a new place with my aunty.
One early morning, we both left Omoba, walking through several villages, and bush paths till we arrived in Owerrinta late in the evening.
Little did I know that I was practicing for what would be a far much longer, lonely and difficult trek soon enough.
Didie, Owerrinta means ‘small Owerri’.
It is located between Owerri, and a place called ‘Ugba’ Junction, on the way to Aba. It is also not far from the Owerri Airport.
The refugee camp was inside a seminary along the road leading from Owerri to Ugba Junction.
The facility is still there now, very close to a naval facility close to the Imo River on the same road.
As we got into the camp, I noticed that it was very large, with lots and lots of people inside it. From their languages, they were a mixture of people from present day Cross River, Akwa Ibom, Rivers and of course Ibos whose towns and villages had either been over-ran by Federal troops, or are battlegrounds.
The scenario inside the camp, was like the ones you see on television of refugee camps in the Congo or Rwanda or any other such places where people had been forced to live outside of their homes, and then in camps, because of war.
Housed in whatever shelters were available, fed with whatever food items they were given, treated for ailments with whatever medicines were available.
They had no choice. They looked helpless, hopeless.
From inside the camp, sound of constant gun shot could be heard, not too far off. More and more people arrived into the camp daily. A lot of them wounded. Some of the wounded were in military uniform.
My aunty had just a bed in one of the dormitories in the camp. We shared the bed. It was an open dormitory, in a large hall with lots beds in it. It was always noisy, and there was hardly any difference between night and day.
My aunty helped out in different places at different times in the camp. Sometimes, she worked in the kitchen, sometimes in the clinic.
The clinic was the scariest of all the places she worked at. I usually left the dormitory to go to look for her around the camp during the day.
On one such occasion, I went into the clinic while she was on duty there.
I saw many children with bloated and almost transparent tummies all over the place. There were also adults with very scary injuries. Bleeding severed limbs, broken heads…There was a lot of screaming and wailing. The whole place smelt terribly!
They asked me to leave. They did not need to because I was too scared, to want to stay.
When my aunty came back to the dormitory later in the evening, she was upset with me for getting to the clinic.
I never went there gain on my own, except the day I was carried there, unconscious...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Saturday, September 4, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IN WAR SITUATIONS, EVEN LIZARDS ARE SCARCE!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IN WAR SITUATIONS, EVEN LIZARDS ARE SCARCE!!!: "...would hear as well as see gun fires from the top of the concrete water tank. We used to watch the ‘air-raids’ as they were called until..."
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IN WAR SITUATIONS, EVEN LIZARDS ARE SCARCE!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IN WAR SITUATIONS, EVEN LIZARDS ARE SCARCE!!!: "...would hear as well as see gun fires from the top of the concrete water tank. We used to watch the ‘air-raids’ as they were called until..."
IN WAR SITUATIONS, EVEN LIZARDS ARE SCARCE!!!
...would hear as well as see gun fires from the top of the concrete water tank.
We used to watch the ‘air-raids’ as they were called until one particular raid happened.
By this time, my elder brothers and uncles were hardly seen at home. I later got to know that they were not usually at home because they were hiding from soldiers who wanted to force them to join the army.
Eventually, two of my brothers, some of my uncles and my sister Meg ended up in the army!
The particular raid that happened was so devastating that the crater the bombs created is still there.
It was a Friday morning, I remember because usually more people used to go to the market, especially Seventh Day Adventist Church members who would want to dispose of their farm produce before the Sabbath.
That morning, we were at my grandparents’ house. Many people queued up to buy Akidi from my grandmother, so she had not gone to the market. If she had gone to the market, maybe we would not have seen her again after that day.
Suddenly, before we could even hear the sound of the aircrafts, we heard a very loud bang that shook the ground and everything on it!
People started running aimlessly all over the place, in a frenzied panic. I heard my grandmother screaming ‘run to the backyard!’ We did and took cover under cocoyam plants!
We heard the aircrafts fly bye this time, and a second big bang.
Under the cocoyam plants, we heard something drop. When everything became quiet again, we were asked to come out. Then we noticed that the thing we had heard drop, fell very close to brother Kanayo’s head. It was bomb fragment!
My mother was then around, and she was crying.
When we got to front of the house, we saw people trooping to and fro the direction of the market; weeping, wailing screaming.
The bombs had landed in the market, killing countless number of people, turning their bodies of those that still had what could be called bodies black!
I know because, we eventually followed people to go to see what had happened.
There was a very big crater where the bombs landed. Some buildings in the market were still burning when we got there, with bodies and human limbs mostly indistinguishable from those of goats and cows, except for obvious parts.
The crater was between the railway station and the market. Maybe they were intending to bomb the railway station.
The concrete tank where the big guns were had been badly perforated by shells, and there was nobody on it.
The market and the main means of people earning a living even under the circumstances had been destroyed.
Omoba has never recovered from that destruction, as that was the point at which people who were from other the Ngwa speaking environs started living to go back to their towns and villages, because of their losses with most never returning even after the war. So, Omoba has remained a shadow of its former glory, especially with the collapse of the rail system in Nigeria.
From that day, everything changed because the air-raids became regular.
Our daily routine changed.
My mother would wake up very early, cook food, park the food for us to take into the forest where some kind of makeshift shelters had been provided by the elders, and we would be there for the whole day, returning home only in the late evenings.
Then, we would play war games in the nights under the moonlights instead of the traditional moonlight stories that normally would happen.
No school.
Many refugee camps suddenly developed around us. People queued up to receive corn meal rations, with milk and sometime stock fish and salt.
People hunted lizards like they were hunting antelopes!
Not very long, salt became very scarce and expensive, families had meals without salt.
And with the want tank destroyed, we had to trek to fetch water from stream in villages far away from Omoba. With the intensified air-raids, it even became impossible to go to some of those streams. We had to go to fetch water from rainwater ponds, and my mother would ground alum to put in the water to cause it to change colour, to become clearer like clean water and the sediments go down, before we could use the water, including for drinking. It usually had a heavy sour taste...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
We used to watch the ‘air-raids’ as they were called until one particular raid happened.
By this time, my elder brothers and uncles were hardly seen at home. I later got to know that they were not usually at home because they were hiding from soldiers who wanted to force them to join the army.
Eventually, two of my brothers, some of my uncles and my sister Meg ended up in the army!
The particular raid that happened was so devastating that the crater the bombs created is still there.
It was a Friday morning, I remember because usually more people used to go to the market, especially Seventh Day Adventist Church members who would want to dispose of their farm produce before the Sabbath.
That morning, we were at my grandparents’ house. Many people queued up to buy Akidi from my grandmother, so she had not gone to the market. If she had gone to the market, maybe we would not have seen her again after that day.
Suddenly, before we could even hear the sound of the aircrafts, we heard a very loud bang that shook the ground and everything on it!
People started running aimlessly all over the place, in a frenzied panic. I heard my grandmother screaming ‘run to the backyard!’ We did and took cover under cocoyam plants!
We heard the aircrafts fly bye this time, and a second big bang.
Under the cocoyam plants, we heard something drop. When everything became quiet again, we were asked to come out. Then we noticed that the thing we had heard drop, fell very close to brother Kanayo’s head. It was bomb fragment!
My mother was then around, and she was crying.
When we got to front of the house, we saw people trooping to and fro the direction of the market; weeping, wailing screaming.
The bombs had landed in the market, killing countless number of people, turning their bodies of those that still had what could be called bodies black!
I know because, we eventually followed people to go to see what had happened.
There was a very big crater where the bombs landed. Some buildings in the market were still burning when we got there, with bodies and human limbs mostly indistinguishable from those of goats and cows, except for obvious parts.
The crater was between the railway station and the market. Maybe they were intending to bomb the railway station.
The concrete tank where the big guns were had been badly perforated by shells, and there was nobody on it.
The market and the main means of people earning a living even under the circumstances had been destroyed.
Omoba has never recovered from that destruction, as that was the point at which people who were from other the Ngwa speaking environs started living to go back to their towns and villages, because of their losses with most never returning even after the war. So, Omoba has remained a shadow of its former glory, especially with the collapse of the rail system in Nigeria.
From that day, everything changed because the air-raids became regular.
Our daily routine changed.
My mother would wake up very early, cook food, park the food for us to take into the forest where some kind of makeshift shelters had been provided by the elders, and we would be there for the whole day, returning home only in the late evenings.
Then, we would play war games in the nights under the moonlights instead of the traditional moonlight stories that normally would happen.
No school.
Many refugee camps suddenly developed around us. People queued up to receive corn meal rations, with milk and sometime stock fish and salt.
People hunted lizards like they were hunting antelopes!
Not very long, salt became very scarce and expensive, families had meals without salt.
And with the want tank destroyed, we had to trek to fetch water from stream in villages far away from Omoba. With the intensified air-raids, it even became impossible to go to some of those streams. We had to go to fetch water from rainwater ponds, and my mother would ground alum to put in the water to cause it to change colour, to become clearer like clean water and the sediments go down, before we could use the water, including for drinking. It usually had a heavy sour taste...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Friday, September 3, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IN WAR SITUATIONS, YOUR NAME COULD COST YOU YOUR L...
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IN WAR SITUATIONS, YOUR NAME COULD COST YOU YOUR L...: "... Omoba was booming with commercial activities, with people from different parts of Nigeria moving in there to do business. This was th..."
IN WAR SITUATIONS, YOUR NAME COULD COST YOU YOUR LIFE!
... Omoba was booming with commercial activities, with people from different parts of Nigeria moving in there to do business.
This was the status of this rural town at the time the civil war started, which eventually drew a lot of negative interests to the town form both the Federal and Biafran sides, and as in all wars, with disastrous consequences for the inhabitants, like I said earlier.
The inhabitants of Omoba at that time included my grandparents, Bennett and Helena Otuoma Ogbonna.
My grandfather Bennett Ogbonna was a Mason, and one of the leading ministers of the Assemblies of God Church in the town. He was from Mbawsi.
My grandmother Helena was from the neigbouring village of Umuokegwu. She was in the food business. She used to prepare traditional beans called akidi, to the delight of her numerous customers that referred to her simply as ‘Mama Gold’, after the name of one of my aunties, Da Gold, that she brought up.
My grandmother’s day usually started at about 3:00 A.M, when she would start to inspect and prepare the akidi which she would have put on the fire before going to bed. This traditional bean usually takes much longer to cook, than non-traditional beans.
Her preparation and recipe usually had her clients queuing up in her home, to buy akidi, way before she gets to the Ogwumabiri (the name of the market at Omoba). In most cases, she would find it difficult to stop selling at home, but usually had to, because people would have been waiting for her to arrive in the market, to buy akidi from her market stall at Ogwumabiri.
I have often wondered why I have had to be the one to experience certain things or be at certain places at certain times.
Well Didie, my conclusion is that there is no accident in all of these situations, nor is there anything that really happens by accident in life.
I f I had not been at those places, or experienced those things at those times; I would not have had any stories to tell you. Nor would it have been possible for some of the insights and possibly, lessons that might be possible from these incidents and situations, to be outlined.
So, it is very important that we seek for whatever lessons are inherent in our experiences, and learn from them. So that the unpleasant ones may be avoided.
For instance, why did that war happen? Why did children like me then, have to pass through all I had to pass through, as you would see, as we continue with the story? What can be done so that children and the rest of us would not have to experience such hardships again?
These were the questions that rang through my mind before I eventually decided to write this book, telling you the story of my experiences as a child caught in the Nigeria-Biafra war that has come to be known as the Nigeria civil war.
As it concerns me, if you have been following, I have had to stop school twice, moved from Lagos to Port Harcourt, and we are now in Omoba, all because of the war.
And yet, they real hardships were just about to begin.
When I arrived in Omoba, my mother and my other siblings had moved into the upper floor in a one story building in the valley on the way to Umuokegwu.
The environment of this house was very serene. It was removed from the centre of the town, away from the noise of the market and the railway station. Again, this put us at a disadvantage later, as you would see.
My grandparents’ house, which was just about ten minutes walk to the market and the railway station, was a three bedroom bungalow which was too small to accommodate all of us.
I noticed there was something strange happening in our family.
My immediately elder brother, (Bj’s daddy), was called Ade, by all of us. His name is Adebunmi. I however, noticed that I was the only one that would call him Ade in the family then. And each time I had to call out to him, I would be cautioned not to call him Ade any more, but Kanayo.
The war had arrived in this small rural commercial town, before my arrival from Port Harcourt.
I was told that my brother could not be called by his Yoruba name, and neither could any of us because, people with names from the West and the North had had to flee, or were being rounded up and killed, by their erstwhile clients, neighbours, associates and even in-laws who were Ibos; in retaliation for the killing of Ibos in other parts of the country!
We stood the risk of being killed by our mother’s kinsmen, just by being called by our Yoruba names!
It therefore became like a taboo, for our Yoruba names to be mentioned. Even amongst ourselves.
So, we could not get to start school, while some other children were still going to school at this time...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
This was the status of this rural town at the time the civil war started, which eventually drew a lot of negative interests to the town form both the Federal and Biafran sides, and as in all wars, with disastrous consequences for the inhabitants, like I said earlier.
The inhabitants of Omoba at that time included my grandparents, Bennett and Helena Otuoma Ogbonna.
My grandfather Bennett Ogbonna was a Mason, and one of the leading ministers of the Assemblies of God Church in the town. He was from Mbawsi.
My grandmother Helena was from the neigbouring village of Umuokegwu. She was in the food business. She used to prepare traditional beans called akidi, to the delight of her numerous customers that referred to her simply as ‘Mama Gold’, after the name of one of my aunties, Da Gold, that she brought up.
My grandmother’s day usually started at about 3:00 A.M, when she would start to inspect and prepare the akidi which she would have put on the fire before going to bed. This traditional bean usually takes much longer to cook, than non-traditional beans.
Her preparation and recipe usually had her clients queuing up in her home, to buy akidi, way before she gets to the Ogwumabiri (the name of the market at Omoba). In most cases, she would find it difficult to stop selling at home, but usually had to, because people would have been waiting for her to arrive in the market, to buy akidi from her market stall at Ogwumabiri.
I have often wondered why I have had to be the one to experience certain things or be at certain places at certain times.
Well Didie, my conclusion is that there is no accident in all of these situations, nor is there anything that really happens by accident in life.
I f I had not been at those places, or experienced those things at those times; I would not have had any stories to tell you. Nor would it have been possible for some of the insights and possibly, lessons that might be possible from these incidents and situations, to be outlined.
So, it is very important that we seek for whatever lessons are inherent in our experiences, and learn from them. So that the unpleasant ones may be avoided.
For instance, why did that war happen? Why did children like me then, have to pass through all I had to pass through, as you would see, as we continue with the story? What can be done so that children and the rest of us would not have to experience such hardships again?
These were the questions that rang through my mind before I eventually decided to write this book, telling you the story of my experiences as a child caught in the Nigeria-Biafra war that has come to be known as the Nigeria civil war.
As it concerns me, if you have been following, I have had to stop school twice, moved from Lagos to Port Harcourt, and we are now in Omoba, all because of the war.
And yet, they real hardships were just about to begin.
When I arrived in Omoba, my mother and my other siblings had moved into the upper floor in a one story building in the valley on the way to Umuokegwu.
The environment of this house was very serene. It was removed from the centre of the town, away from the noise of the market and the railway station. Again, this put us at a disadvantage later, as you would see.
My grandparents’ house, which was just about ten minutes walk to the market and the railway station, was a three bedroom bungalow which was too small to accommodate all of us.
I noticed there was something strange happening in our family.
My immediately elder brother, (Bj’s daddy), was called Ade, by all of us. His name is Adebunmi. I however, noticed that I was the only one that would call him Ade in the family then. And each time I had to call out to him, I would be cautioned not to call him Ade any more, but Kanayo.
The war had arrived in this small rural commercial town, before my arrival from Port Harcourt.
I was told that my brother could not be called by his Yoruba name, and neither could any of us because, people with names from the West and the North had had to flee, or were being rounded up and killed, by their erstwhile clients, neighbours, associates and even in-laws who were Ibos; in retaliation for the killing of Ibos in other parts of the country!
We stood the risk of being killed by our mother’s kinsmen, just by being called by our Yoruba names!
It therefore became like a taboo, for our Yoruba names to be mentioned. Even amongst ourselves.
So, we could not get to start school, while some other children were still going to school at this time...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Thursday, September 2, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: THEY BOMBED OUR REFINERY!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: THEY BOMBED OUR REFINERY!!!: "...It was not however long after we moved into this house, that my mother decided that we had to relocate to Omoba. I did not understand w..."
THEY BOMBED OUR REFINERY!!!
...It was not however long after we moved into this house, that my mother decided that we had to relocate to Omoba.
I did not understand why then, but now, I understand that she had information that the war had started, and that it was better for us to be closer home.
So, all our things were packed into trucks, and they left for Omoba, leaving me behind, to stay with my sister Meg.
My sister Meg was not living with us. She had her own apartment.
The street where her house was located was close to the creeks, so I loved to go fishing and periwinkle ‘hunting’ with my friends, much to her displeasure.
By this time, I had stopped going to school, and I did not know why, but I knew that some of our neighbours were leaving Port Harcourt, just like my mother had done with my other siblings.
So, there was nothing much to when my sister leaves for work. I join my friends to go to the waters of the creek, for fishing and periwinkles, which usually, do not get home with me.
It was during one such trip to the creeks, that we heard and saw a lot of people running about and gathering in groups.
Suddenly, we heard sound of military aircrafts (the sound is very different from that of civilian or commercial aircrafts), flying over head.
Eventually, people started pointing fingers towards a direction from which there was a lot of black smoke in the sky.
The said it was the Refinery at Afam, Eleme that had just been bombed by the aircrafts that flew past.
From that day, the aircrafts and the bombings continued, almost on a daily basis, we would here sirens sound, and people will shout ‘enemy planes’ and run outside, to watch the directions the aircrafts would fly to and soon enough, there would be black smoke in the sky.
We could not go fishing freely any more, even when my sister Meg was not around. People were afraid to go out.
Open fields were farmed with spiky bamboo stakes. As I learned later, it was to prevent paratroopers from landing in those fields.
After a while, my sister Meg said it was no longer safe for me to be with her I Port Harcourt, and decided to put me in a train bound for Omoba, so I could be safe with my mother and other siblings there.
She remained in Port Harcourt; only to arrive in Omoba not too long after I she had sent there with nothing.
No Property, no car. No nothing.
Port Harcourt had been captured by the Federal troops, who defeated the Biafran troops defending it...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
I did not understand why then, but now, I understand that she had information that the war had started, and that it was better for us to be closer home.
So, all our things were packed into trucks, and they left for Omoba, leaving me behind, to stay with my sister Meg.
My sister Meg was not living with us. She had her own apartment.
The street where her house was located was close to the creeks, so I loved to go fishing and periwinkle ‘hunting’ with my friends, much to her displeasure.
By this time, I had stopped going to school, and I did not know why, but I knew that some of our neighbours were leaving Port Harcourt, just like my mother had done with my other siblings.
So, there was nothing much to when my sister leaves for work. I join my friends to go to the waters of the creek, for fishing and periwinkles, which usually, do not get home with me.
It was during one such trip to the creeks, that we heard and saw a lot of people running about and gathering in groups.
Suddenly, we heard sound of military aircrafts (the sound is very different from that of civilian or commercial aircrafts), flying over head.
Eventually, people started pointing fingers towards a direction from which there was a lot of black smoke in the sky.
The said it was the Refinery at Afam, Eleme that had just been bombed by the aircrafts that flew past.
From that day, the aircrafts and the bombings continued, almost on a daily basis, we would here sirens sound, and people will shout ‘enemy planes’ and run outside, to watch the directions the aircrafts would fly to and soon enough, there would be black smoke in the sky.
We could not go fishing freely any more, even when my sister Meg was not around. People were afraid to go out.
Open fields were farmed with spiky bamboo stakes. As I learned later, it was to prevent paratroopers from landing in those fields.
After a while, my sister Meg said it was no longer safe for me to be with her I Port Harcourt, and decided to put me in a train bound for Omoba, so I could be safe with my mother and other siblings there.
She remained in Port Harcourt; only to arrive in Omoba not too long after I she had sent there with nothing.
No Property, no car. No nothing.
Port Harcourt had been captured by the Federal troops, who defeated the Biafran troops defending it...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: BACK ACROSS THE NIGER BY BRIDGE, BUT THEY BLEW IT ...
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: BACK ACROSS THE NIGER BY BRIDGE, BUT THEY BLEW IT ...: "...Eventually one evening, my sister Meg came from the East. It was around Christmas time, because she brought Christmas cards and gifts fro..."
BACK ACROSS THE NIGER BY BRIDGE, BUT THEY BLEW IT UP!!!!
...Eventually one evening, my sister Meg came from the East. It was around Christmas time, because she brought Christmas cards and gifts from my mother for everyone.
I missed my mother the more.
But my sister Meg said not to worry, that I would see my mother very soon, but that I should not tell anyone she said so, after I heard her talking with my father, and he was sounding angry.
The next day, she came to visit me in school, and bought me things.
The third day, she came to the school very early and took me away, with my brother Sunny.
We eventually got to a motor park and entered a vehicle and my sister Meg said we were going to see my mother. I was happy, but asked if my father was coming as well.
Well, my father did not come with us.
Again, I slept most of the way. I do not remember much of what happened on the way.
I however remember when we got to River Niger again, because my sister Meg woke me up, to look at the river from the bridge. There was a bridge this time.
I remember it was night.
The bridge seemed to stretch endlessly, as the vehicle drove through it.
The bridge was very beautiful, and the journey over it was smooth. We did not have to go on a ferry this time.
I was very sad when I heard later, as the war went on, that that beautiful bridge that made it easy for people to travel across the River Niger from Onitsha to Asaba, had been blown-up, and destroyed because of war...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
I missed my mother the more.
But my sister Meg said not to worry, that I would see my mother very soon, but that I should not tell anyone she said so, after I heard her talking with my father, and he was sounding angry.
The next day, she came to visit me in school, and bought me things.
The third day, she came to the school very early and took me away, with my brother Sunny.
We eventually got to a motor park and entered a vehicle and my sister Meg said we were going to see my mother. I was happy, but asked if my father was coming as well.
Well, my father did not come with us.
Again, I slept most of the way. I do not remember much of what happened on the way.
I however remember when we got to River Niger again, because my sister Meg woke me up, to look at the river from the bridge. There was a bridge this time.
I remember it was night.
The bridge seemed to stretch endlessly, as the vehicle drove through it.
The bridge was very beautiful, and the journey over it was smooth. We did not have to go on a ferry this time.
I was very sad when I heard later, as the war went on, that that beautiful bridge that made it easy for people to travel across the River Niger from Onitsha to Asaba, had been blown-up, and destroyed because of war...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: STORY, STORY (2)....ACROSS THE NIGER BRIDGE BY FER...
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: STORY, STORY (2)....ACROSS THE NIGER BRIDGE BY FER...: "...At our family level, some of the information here would help you to continue with your ‘Family Tree’ project. As much as I can recollec..."
STORY, STORY (2)....ACROSS THE NIGER BRIDGE BY FERRY.
...At our family level, some of the information here would help you to continue with your ‘Family Tree’ project.
As much as I can recollect, I remember my father travelling with myself and my brother (uncle Sunny, your cousin Benjy’s father), in a vehicle with a lot of people inside it.
I cannot remember whether we travelled from Aba, or from Port Harcourt, but we were travelling to Lagos.
This was early in 1965; just about five years after Nigeria got her independence from Great Britain.
We left my mother (grandma), my brothers Dede (big Daddy), Ade (Bj’s daddy), Innocent(your cousin Ada’s daddy) and Victor(your cousin Erinma’s daddy), and my sister Meg (your cousin Kachi’s mummy, big Aunty).
My grandmother and grandfather, and Uncle Chidi and Aunty Gloria were also with them back in the east in Omoba.
As we travelled farther away from them, I missed my mother.
But I was excited because I was going on a journey with my father, and I was going to start school, and to see the other members of our family in Lagos.
The journey seemed endless, and I slept most of the way.
One of the times I was I awake, I remember I saw a lot of water, my father said it was River Niger. We waited a long time by the river at Onitsha, and it was dark when what I now understand as a ferry came and vehicles and people got on and after some time, we were on the other side of the river at Asaba. You remember the place where we stopped to take photographs by the bridge, when we travelled to see grandma in Osa-Ukwu with the black Golf in 2006?
That is the Niger Bridge head at Asaba. Asaba is the town where we all slept in 2005 as we were travelling to see grandma with Bj, his daddy, Dolapo, Olaachi, and their mummy, when the Pathfinder got spoilt on the way because of the flooding that also made us, to sleep in Benin city two days earlier.
There was no bridge across the River Niger from Onitsha to Asaba when I travelled with my father then...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
As much as I can recollect, I remember my father travelling with myself and my brother (uncle Sunny, your cousin Benjy’s father), in a vehicle with a lot of people inside it.
I cannot remember whether we travelled from Aba, or from Port Harcourt, but we were travelling to Lagos.
This was early in 1965; just about five years after Nigeria got her independence from Great Britain.
We left my mother (grandma), my brothers Dede (big Daddy), Ade (Bj’s daddy), Innocent(your cousin Ada’s daddy) and Victor(your cousin Erinma’s daddy), and my sister Meg (your cousin Kachi’s mummy, big Aunty).
My grandmother and grandfather, and Uncle Chidi and Aunty Gloria were also with them back in the east in Omoba.
As we travelled farther away from them, I missed my mother.
But I was excited because I was going on a journey with my father, and I was going to start school, and to see the other members of our family in Lagos.
The journey seemed endless, and I slept most of the way.
One of the times I was I awake, I remember I saw a lot of water, my father said it was River Niger. We waited a long time by the river at Onitsha, and it was dark when what I now understand as a ferry came and vehicles and people got on and after some time, we were on the other side of the river at Asaba. You remember the place where we stopped to take photographs by the bridge, when we travelled to see grandma in Osa-Ukwu with the black Golf in 2006?
That is the Niger Bridge head at Asaba. Asaba is the town where we all slept in 2005 as we were travelling to see grandma with Bj, his daddy, Dolapo, Olaachi, and their mummy, when the Pathfinder got spoilt on the way because of the flooding that also made us, to sleep in Benin city two days earlier.
There was no bridge across the River Niger from Onitsha to Asaba when I travelled with my father then...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Monday, August 30, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: STORY, STORY (1)....ACROSS THE RIVER NIGER BY FERR...
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: STORY, STORY (1)....ACROSS THE RIVER NIGER BY FERR...: "...Dear Didie, I was too young to understand why some of the things am about to tell you happened they ways they did. But I as much as ..."
STORY, STORY (1)....ACROSS THE RIVER NIGER BY FERRY.
...Dear Didie,
I was too young to understand why some of the things am about to tell you happened they ways they did.
But I as much as I can remember, we had a very happy family, and everything seemed just fine, just as you, your sisters and maybe your friends feel they are now, in your families and environments.
The difference is that, while I was about five years old at the time this story begins and about eleven when it would end, you are already eleven now.
I am writing you, so that you can always remember these incidents, make up your mind that as you grow up, you are not going to be a part of anything that would create rumours, and then conflicts, and then, the kinds of scenarios that I am about to narrate to you.
That is not all. I also want you, to encourage your friends and peers, to join you to do things that would led to the benefit of all Nigerians.
You need to know that war destroys things, separates families, stunts development and the lives of a lot of people. Nothing about war is good.
War stops everything else but war. War kills people, ordinary people, and civilians, dead!
When there is war, everything you take for granted, like going to school, work or eating what you like (if you can afford it), moving about freely and keeping the things and people dear to you (toys, cars, houses, and even your family members, both males and females), become impossible. Soldiers just take whatever they want to take in war situations. And nobody can stop them.
You also need to understand that to be caught up in a real war, is not the same thing as watching war movies, or watching real wars in other places like the former Yugoslavia, Iraq, Afghanistan, Liberia, Sierra Leon or Somalia from television reports, or DVD docummentaries.
Wars terribly affect the lives of ordinary people caught up in them, and not just the lives of the soldiers who fight in wars...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
I was too young to understand why some of the things am about to tell you happened they ways they did.
But I as much as I can remember, we had a very happy family, and everything seemed just fine, just as you, your sisters and maybe your friends feel they are now, in your families and environments.
The difference is that, while I was about five years old at the time this story begins and about eleven when it would end, you are already eleven now.
I am writing you, so that you can always remember these incidents, make up your mind that as you grow up, you are not going to be a part of anything that would create rumours, and then conflicts, and then, the kinds of scenarios that I am about to narrate to you.
That is not all. I also want you, to encourage your friends and peers, to join you to do things that would led to the benefit of all Nigerians.
You need to know that war destroys things, separates families, stunts development and the lives of a lot of people. Nothing about war is good.
War stops everything else but war. War kills people, ordinary people, and civilians, dead!
When there is war, everything you take for granted, like going to school, work or eating what you like (if you can afford it), moving about freely and keeping the things and people dear to you (toys, cars, houses, and even your family members, both males and females), become impossible. Soldiers just take whatever they want to take in war situations. And nobody can stop them.
You also need to understand that to be caught up in a real war, is not the same thing as watching war movies, or watching real wars in other places like the former Yugoslavia, Iraq, Afghanistan, Liberia, Sierra Leon or Somalia from television reports, or DVD docummentaries.
Wars terribly affect the lives of ordinary people caught up in them, and not just the lives of the soldiers who fight in wars...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Sunday, August 29, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: ARE THE 'HUSBANDS' GOING MAD AGAIN???!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: ARE THE 'HUSBANDS' GOING MAD AGAIN???!!!: "...Sometime in 1984, the University of Lagos Students’ Union week was fast approaching. I was approached by the Social Secretary, to write a..."
ARE THE 'HUSBANDS' GOING MAD AGAIN???!!!
...Sometime in 1984, the University of Lagos Students’ Union week was fast approaching. I was approached by the Social Secretary, to write and present a play for the Week. The Student Union President at that time, was Niyi Akinsiji.
About a year earlier, in concert with three of my friends, we had formed The Theatre 15, and invited some of our other friends who included former Senator Tokunbo Afikuyomi, Jonas Agwu, Dr. Kayode Fayemi,…to join us as we performed plays(including Ola Rotimi’s OUR HUSBAND HAS GONE MAD AGAIN!) in the University of Lagos as well as three other universities in the south west of Nigeria; the University of Ibadan, Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife and the University of Ado-Ekiti.
I chose to write and produce a pantomime, portraying the trials of civilians through military decrees and Tribunals, under the Generals Buhari and Idiagbon regime, which someone had termed ‘kangaroo courts’. The title of that play is Fragile Fury.
I have not reproduced that play here because it is in another book, CAMP BODINGA: NOT A WASTED GENERATION, my recollection of my National Youth Service Corp experiences in Sokoto State between 1985 and 1986.
As we were rehearsing the play, I noticed that the players started to disappear one by one, up to the point that it became impossible to continue with the rehearsals.
I got to find out that my friends had heard rumours that State Security Service operatives were trailing us as we rehearsed, and so they were apprehensive of being arrested, and getting Theatre 15 banned.
I had to look for other players outside of Theatre 15, and we went ahead to rehearse and produce the play during the Week, albeit hush-hush.
There were no arrests.
We were not confronting individuals, but an unacceptable system of justice, which could cause social unrest, and then stunt development, which actually did happen.
A few years later under the General Babangida regime, Mr. Fred Agbeyegbe a Lawyer, started Ajo Productions, a theatre company and through a hugely successful Ajofest in 1986, that brought people like Richard Mofe-Damijo, Anter Laniyan, Tunji Sotimirin, Jide Ogugbade, Ben Tomoloju… to the limelight, produced among other plays, BUDISO which portrayed among other issues of our national life at that time, some of the issues in Fragile Fury.
I followed the performances as I reviewed them for my contribution in the arts and entertainment section of a Lagos Newspaper then, as a freelance.
There were also rumours that State Security Service operatives also trailed that production, as it was believed that the title BUDISO represented names of some personalities in the previous regime.
And Ajo productions some how stopped producing plays, which was really sad.
Why was it sad? Apart from the employment opportunities for theatre practitioners that Ajo Productions provided at that time, their productions offered us opportunities for us to laugh at ourselves and get rid of some of the anger and disappointments, which is one very big problem area of our national life. We do not know how to laugh at ourselves.
This has also hindered creative works around the issue areas of our national life. The revolution for the performing arts and allied professions that happened with what has come to be known as Nollywood only a few years ago, would have happened much earlier and we would not have been only bombarded mainly with themes of rituals and the occult as is the case now.
One more win-win opportunity for Nigeria lost...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
About a year earlier, in concert with three of my friends, we had formed The Theatre 15, and invited some of our other friends who included former Senator Tokunbo Afikuyomi, Jonas Agwu, Dr. Kayode Fayemi,…to join us as we performed plays(including Ola Rotimi’s OUR HUSBAND HAS GONE MAD AGAIN!) in the University of Lagos as well as three other universities in the south west of Nigeria; the University of Ibadan, Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife and the University of Ado-Ekiti.
I chose to write and produce a pantomime, portraying the trials of civilians through military decrees and Tribunals, under the Generals Buhari and Idiagbon regime, which someone had termed ‘kangaroo courts’. The title of that play is Fragile Fury.
I have not reproduced that play here because it is in another book, CAMP BODINGA: NOT A WASTED GENERATION, my recollection of my National Youth Service Corp experiences in Sokoto State between 1985 and 1986.
As we were rehearsing the play, I noticed that the players started to disappear one by one, up to the point that it became impossible to continue with the rehearsals.
I got to find out that my friends had heard rumours that State Security Service operatives were trailing us as we rehearsed, and so they were apprehensive of being arrested, and getting Theatre 15 banned.
I had to look for other players outside of Theatre 15, and we went ahead to rehearse and produce the play during the Week, albeit hush-hush.
There were no arrests.
We were not confronting individuals, but an unacceptable system of justice, which could cause social unrest, and then stunt development, which actually did happen.
A few years later under the General Babangida regime, Mr. Fred Agbeyegbe a Lawyer, started Ajo Productions, a theatre company and through a hugely successful Ajofest in 1986, that brought people like Richard Mofe-Damijo, Anter Laniyan, Tunji Sotimirin, Jide Ogugbade, Ben Tomoloju… to the limelight, produced among other plays, BUDISO which portrayed among other issues of our national life at that time, some of the issues in Fragile Fury.
I followed the performances as I reviewed them for my contribution in the arts and entertainment section of a Lagos Newspaper then, as a freelance.
There were also rumours that State Security Service operatives also trailed that production, as it was believed that the title BUDISO represented names of some personalities in the previous regime.
And Ajo productions some how stopped producing plays, which was really sad.
Why was it sad? Apart from the employment opportunities for theatre practitioners that Ajo Productions provided at that time, their productions offered us opportunities for us to laugh at ourselves and get rid of some of the anger and disappointments, which is one very big problem area of our national life. We do not know how to laugh at ourselves.
This has also hindered creative works around the issue areas of our national life. The revolution for the performing arts and allied professions that happened with what has come to be known as Nollywood only a few years ago, would have happened much earlier and we would not have been only bombarded mainly with themes of rituals and the occult as is the case now.
One more win-win opportunity for Nigeria lost...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Saturday, August 28, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: WE REALLY DO NOT VALUE WHAT WE HAVE OR WHO WE ARE!...
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: WE REALLY DO NOT VALUE WHAT WE HAVE OR WHO WE ARE!...: "...I do not believe I am a Nigerian by accident, or that I could have been better off anywhere else. I believe and affirm that this is the b..."
WE REALLY DO NOT VALUE WHAT WE HAVE OR WHO WE ARE!!!(2)
...I do not believe I am a Nigerian by accident, or that I could have been better off anywhere else. I believe and affirm that this is the best ‘seat’ in the planet fashioned by the almighty God for the benefit of all Nigerians, and all true friends of Nigeria.
In 1999, I went to Kenya for a training programme on development media materials design, development and production, with support of the UNFPA.
As part of the programme we (there were participants from eleven African countries) for the component that had to do with electronic media materials, at ACE Communications, a Kenyan company. While there, I noticed a product that there were advertising that interested me. It was indoor advertising display systems, the types that are all over the place now in banking halls and such places. There were not available in Nigeria as at that time. I approached some Ace Communications staff about it, and they said they would set up a meeting for me with their Managing Director, Mr. Raphael Tuju, which they eventually did.
As we sat over tea, at the Country Club in Karen, Nairobi to discuss business, the first thing that Mr. Tuju said was, ‘You Nigerians…’ I said to myself, here we go again! ‘…people either love you or hate you. But no one can afford to ignore you…’
Considering that this was just a few months into our ‘new experimentation’ with democracy, I was encouraged.
This is a proof of endorsement of the value of our ‘seat’ on planet Earth. Mr. Tuju eventually went on to become a Member of Parliament in Kenya...
----BIAFRA: LEST WE FORGET!
In 1999, I went to Kenya for a training programme on development media materials design, development and production, with support of the UNFPA.
As part of the programme we (there were participants from eleven African countries) for the component that had to do with electronic media materials, at ACE Communications, a Kenyan company. While there, I noticed a product that there were advertising that interested me. It was indoor advertising display systems, the types that are all over the place now in banking halls and such places. There were not available in Nigeria as at that time. I approached some Ace Communications staff about it, and they said they would set up a meeting for me with their Managing Director, Mr. Raphael Tuju, which they eventually did.
As we sat over tea, at the Country Club in Karen, Nairobi to discuss business, the first thing that Mr. Tuju said was, ‘You Nigerians…’ I said to myself, here we go again! ‘…people either love you or hate you. But no one can afford to ignore you…’
Considering that this was just a few months into our ‘new experimentation’ with democracy, I was encouraged.
This is a proof of endorsement of the value of our ‘seat’ on planet Earth. Mr. Tuju eventually went on to become a Member of Parliament in Kenya...
----BIAFRA: LEST WE FORGET!
Friday, August 27, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: WE REALLY DO NOT VALUE WHAT WE HAVE & WHO WE ARE!!...
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: WE REALLY DO NOT VALUE WHAT WE HAVE & WHO WE ARE!!...: "...South Africa has just hosted a flawless and lucrative Football World cup. That might not have happened had former President Thabo Mbek..."
WE REALLY DO NOT VALUE WHAT WE HAVE & WHO WE ARE!!! (1)
...South Africa has just hosted a flawless and lucrative Football World cup.
That might not have happened had former President Thabo Mbeki insisted on challenging the pressure for him to step down, from his party members. He stepped down, and President Jacob Zuma replaced him. There were those who did not like the idea. But there they are, moving on as the Republic of South Africa.
That is at the ‘macro’ level of things in South Africa. At the ‘micro’ level, they still have their own problems just like we do.
In 2004, I went to Cape Town in South Africa, to present some papers at the 4th International Entertainment Education Conference. For some reasons I still cannot explain, I travelled with only traditional attire for that trip.
In the hotel I stayed at, I noticed that one of the staff, a coloured young man (the ones we call ‘half-cast’ in Nigeria), made extra efforts to be of assistance to me as I sat at meals, or just seated in the gardens to rest or savour the scenery.
Eventually, I sought to know what made him so eager to come to my aid, even when he was not on duty. Well I got to know that he liked my attires(two days later, I found out he was not the only, as I was embarrassed with an award as the best dressed male at the conference, during the gala night!), that he is a Fashion Designer; he showed me a catalogue of some of his works.
Very creative and beautiful designs, if I had had the means I would have dragged him to Nigeria.
Then, what was he doing working in a hotel instead of running his fashion business, with all the business support opportunities available in South Africa?
His face fell, sullen and saddened.
When he eventually spoke, his story was that he had problems accessing support for his business because of the colour of his skin!
Financial institutions headed by blacks felt he was not black enough, those headed by whites felt he was not white enough, according to him.
So, he is working at the hotel (a bed and breakfast lodge really), to make enough money to leave for Europe to pursue his fashion career.
In South Africa of 2004?!!!!
Well, they are still there getting along with themselves somehow...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
That might not have happened had former President Thabo Mbeki insisted on challenging the pressure for him to step down, from his party members. He stepped down, and President Jacob Zuma replaced him. There were those who did not like the idea. But there they are, moving on as the Republic of South Africa.
That is at the ‘macro’ level of things in South Africa. At the ‘micro’ level, they still have their own problems just like we do.
In 2004, I went to Cape Town in South Africa, to present some papers at the 4th International Entertainment Education Conference. For some reasons I still cannot explain, I travelled with only traditional attire for that trip.
In the hotel I stayed at, I noticed that one of the staff, a coloured young man (the ones we call ‘half-cast’ in Nigeria), made extra efforts to be of assistance to me as I sat at meals, or just seated in the gardens to rest or savour the scenery.
Eventually, I sought to know what made him so eager to come to my aid, even when he was not on duty. Well I got to know that he liked my attires(two days later, I found out he was not the only, as I was embarrassed with an award as the best dressed male at the conference, during the gala night!), that he is a Fashion Designer; he showed me a catalogue of some of his works.
Very creative and beautiful designs, if I had had the means I would have dragged him to Nigeria.
Then, what was he doing working in a hotel instead of running his fashion business, with all the business support opportunities available in South Africa?
His face fell, sullen and saddened.
When he eventually spoke, his story was that he had problems accessing support for his business because of the colour of his skin!
Financial institutions headed by blacks felt he was not black enough, those headed by whites felt he was not white enough, according to him.
So, he is working at the hotel (a bed and breakfast lodge really), to make enough money to leave for Europe to pursue his fashion career.
In South Africa of 2004?!!!!
Well, they are still there getting along with themselves somehow...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Thursday, August 26, 2010
THEY DO NOT 'BAKE' BUT 'SHARE' THE NATIONAL 'CAKE'...
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: THEY DO NOT 'BAKE' BUT 'SHARE' THE NATIONAL 'CAKE'...: "...‘…Their icon would not win the presidential election under the Labour Party against PDP!’ I asked why, because to my mind, Labour is fa..."
THEY DO NOT 'BAKE' BUT 'SHARE' THE NATIONAL 'CAKE'!!!
...‘…Their icon would not win the presidential election under the Labour Party against PDP!’
I asked why, because to my mind, Labour is far larger, and has something common binding its members across the country from whom they could pool resources, much more than any other party.
He said wrong. Labour is not united!
I said fine, then the icon should work at uniting Labour to make it a potent political force that can speak for Nigerians, someone did the same in Poland, and that if that was the only thing he could achieve, I believe it would have been a far greater achievement for Nigeria.
Well, that did not happen. You know the rest of the story from that election. His Excellency Comrade Adams Oshiomole eventually became Governor in Edo State, South-South Nigeria.
And to think that the song they sing when they gather, says something about ‘solidarity’!
Another win-win opportunity for Nigeria lost.
Here, politicians are neither interested in ‘baking’ the ‘cake’, nor creating enabling environments for willing ‘bakers’. They are only interested in, ‘their slice of the national cake'...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
I asked why, because to my mind, Labour is far larger, and has something common binding its members across the country from whom they could pool resources, much more than any other party.
He said wrong. Labour is not united!
I said fine, then the icon should work at uniting Labour to make it a potent political force that can speak for Nigerians, someone did the same in Poland, and that if that was the only thing he could achieve, I believe it would have been a far greater achievement for Nigeria.
Well, that did not happen. You know the rest of the story from that election. His Excellency Comrade Adams Oshiomole eventually became Governor in Edo State, South-South Nigeria.
And to think that the song they sing when they gather, says something about ‘solidarity’!
Another win-win opportunity for Nigeria lost.
Here, politicians are neither interested in ‘baking’ the ‘cake’, nor creating enabling environments for willing ‘bakers’. They are only interested in, ‘their slice of the national cake'...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: OH, THESE POLITICIANS!!!
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: OH, THESE POLITICIANS!!!: "...Our problem has always been with incompetent, selfish, greedy and largely unpatriotic civilian politicians (and not tribe, not religion),..."
OH, THESE POLITICIANS!!!
...Our problem has always been with incompetent, selfish, greedy and largely unpatriotic civilian politicians (and not tribe, not religion), who polluted the military class between 1966, and 1999, by getting them involved in politics.
This is not just me talking. Not too long ago, I watched a documentary on NTA 24, which was on Nok Art or Tera Kota. In the course of the programme, the District Head of Nok, while trying to explain that the Nok people never worshipped their art objects, also said that even with the advent of Christianity, and then Islam, the Nok people lived peacefully together with themselves and their neighbours until the advent of politics.
Though he did not use the term politicians, but I do also believe that politics is a socialization tool made up of concepts and principles applied by people, just like communication. It is even more ‘static’ than communication, because its principles and concepts still need to be communicated. It is in communicating these concepts and principles that politicians come in.
If I was too young to know what led to the military class getting involved in politics in 1966, I have read some of the scattered accounts about that coup in some books and media reports. I am however, old enough to have witnessed how unpatriotic civilian politicians have been, since 1979.
The military class really needs to work at educating its rank and file about the need to resist any further pollution by civilian politicians, so we stop having military politicians.
If you are a parent, and you have children who make it a habit to quarrel and fight, and then keep calling you to intervene each time that happens, and you oblige them, it is very unlikely that the children would ever learn how to resolve their differences by themselves. And then, you as a parent would eventually be neglecting your primary duties, while concentrating on the distraction of settling quarrels and fights.
I am not however, suggesting that the military are our parents, in Nigeria.
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
This is not just me talking. Not too long ago, I watched a documentary on NTA 24, which was on Nok Art or Tera Kota. In the course of the programme, the District Head of Nok, while trying to explain that the Nok people never worshipped their art objects, also said that even with the advent of Christianity, and then Islam, the Nok people lived peacefully together with themselves and their neighbours until the advent of politics.
Though he did not use the term politicians, but I do also believe that politics is a socialization tool made up of concepts and principles applied by people, just like communication. It is even more ‘static’ than communication, because its principles and concepts still need to be communicated. It is in communicating these concepts and principles that politicians come in.
If I was too young to know what led to the military class getting involved in politics in 1966, I have read some of the scattered accounts about that coup in some books and media reports. I am however, old enough to have witnessed how unpatriotic civilian politicians have been, since 1979.
The military class really needs to work at educating its rank and file about the need to resist any further pollution by civilian politicians, so we stop having military politicians.
If you are a parent, and you have children who make it a habit to quarrel and fight, and then keep calling you to intervene each time that happens, and you oblige them, it is very unlikely that the children would ever learn how to resolve their differences by themselves. And then, you as a parent would eventually be neglecting your primary duties, while concentrating on the distraction of settling quarrels and fights.
I am not however, suggesting that the military are our parents, in Nigeria.
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: THERE IS NO PERFECT COUNTRY OR GOVERNANCE ANYWHERE...
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: THERE IS NO PERFECT COUNTRY OR GOVERNANCE ANYWHERE...: "...Why is it not possible for us to go for win-win situations for all to benefit, even when opportunities exist for such situations? Why a..."
THERE IS NO PERFECT COUNTRY OR GOVERNANCE ANYWHERE!
...Why is it not possible for us to go for win-win situations for all to benefit, even when opportunities exist for such situations?
Why are we refusing to talk about our painful and unpleasant experiences, what are our Historians doing? There is an Igbo adage for child grooming that says, oku taa nwata mbu, ya hun oku ozo, ya kpoo oku ufu.
I could go on and on with such questions, but I am persuaded to stop because I have come to the conclusion that Peter Tosh must have had Nigerians in mind when he sang, ‘…everyone wants to go to heaven, but none of them wants to die…’.
We have been being challenged by conformity, not cowardice. Nigerians are no cowards, but conformity is making us look and act like cowards.
We want good things, but are very unwilling to make sacrifices in order to bring the good things we want about. We want ‘fast food’, but even fast food takes some time and committed cooks, to cook.
We have chosen to be blind to, or to simply ignore some recent events in some of the nations we want to be like.
I will pick events from four of such countries, namely The United States of America, the United Kingdom, Poland, and South Africa.
Maybe I do not understand politics, but my understanding is that the election between former US President George Bush Jnr. and former Vice President Al Gore was not one of the elections Americans are very proud of, nor would want to remember. But there it was; it happened!
I can still remember former Vice President Al Gore’s speech to accept former President George Bush Jnr. as winner that election, in the interest of their constitution, democracy and their country. He did not call for America to break up because he did not win, even when it was possible that some Americans would have wanted him to continue to challenge the result of the election. That is called personal sacrifice for the general good.
More recently, we watched history colourfully painted on American canvass, as President Barack Obama, an African - American got elected, and eventually sworn-in.
I am not an American, but I was deeply concerned for him, through the elections, to his declaration as the President-elect, to his inauguration.
Why was I concerned? Well, for some people, it was unthinkable, unacceptable and then I felt maybe he would never get to be sworn-in.
We saw his opponents, notably among them Senator John McCain, stand up in his defense even before hostile Obama opposition.
And so, the hitherto unthinkable happened, an African-American calling the shots from The White House! It does not matter whether it is for only one term or the whole eight years, ‘yes they did’!
Senator McCain did not play the race card, as we do often play the tribe or religion card here, just to win elections at all cost!
He believes in something bigger than party, religious or racial differences (as he went back to the Senate to continue with the business of lawmaking), The United States of America!
Maybe we should change our name to USN; we did change our national anthem and currency at some points!
Much more recently, we watched the hitherto unthinkable, happen in the United Kingdom, the Conservatives forming a government with the Liberal Democrats, and they are still there, (well, as at the time of writing this book).
Never mind me; I do really believe they are going to work together for quite a while. Even if they do not, they have shown that nothing should be impossible in the interest of the common good.
Former Prime Minister Gordon Brown got the message, took his personal belongings out of 10 Downing Street, cleared his table as Labour Party leader, and headed home.
He did not work against Cameron and Clegg getting to form a government, nor did he insist on leading the Labour Party even when other party members and their party constitution say no, nor go ahead and form his own party, as would have happened here.
And all of these took just days, not weeks, months or even years with several trips to the courts, not to talk of the huge amount of money that would have been wasted along with some precious and innocent lives, limbs and sanity, had it been here.
Did all Britons like what happened? Of course not! But they all went along with the arrangement.
Why, because their focus is on something far bigger than party, ideological or individual differences, The United Kingdom!
It does look like there is something about that word ‘United’, that we should really consider incorporating into our name.
I got interested in Poland during the communist era because of one man.
I am not a politician, nor am I a historian, but I studied history, and love to observe, and follow events as they unfold around me.
Right from my secondary school days, through the ‘World News’ columns of the News Papers that my father bought, I admired the courage, determination organisational qualities of Lech Walesa the father of ‘Solidarity’ and 1983 Noble Peace Laureate, as he struggled to pool the labour and civil society movements together against an oppressive system of governance in Poland.
He eventually became a president in post-communist Poland, but he worked for it. It did not happen in one day neither was it at no personal costs to him. I might be wrong, but I believe that today, Poland has benefitted from his many trips to jail, facilitated by an oppressive system of governance.
He succeeded in uniting the labour and civil society movements, to become a potent political force in Poland peacefully, as Walesa himself commented years later, ‘…"Why did we do all of it?" ...."To launch a new epoch, one without divisions. Without one shot, our generation was able to do it...’
And he even got commended by one of his former arch-enemies and former Polish President Aleksander Kwasniewski, who said, ‘We all live in a free Poland, and there would be no free Poland without you. ... Twenty-five years ago, I did not stand on the same side together with you, but today I have no doubts that it was your vision of Poland which led us in the right direction."...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Why are we refusing to talk about our painful and unpleasant experiences, what are our Historians doing? There is an Igbo adage for child grooming that says, oku taa nwata mbu, ya hun oku ozo, ya kpoo oku ufu.
I could go on and on with such questions, but I am persuaded to stop because I have come to the conclusion that Peter Tosh must have had Nigerians in mind when he sang, ‘…everyone wants to go to heaven, but none of them wants to die…’.
We have been being challenged by conformity, not cowardice. Nigerians are no cowards, but conformity is making us look and act like cowards.
We want good things, but are very unwilling to make sacrifices in order to bring the good things we want about. We want ‘fast food’, but even fast food takes some time and committed cooks, to cook.
We have chosen to be blind to, or to simply ignore some recent events in some of the nations we want to be like.
I will pick events from four of such countries, namely The United States of America, the United Kingdom, Poland, and South Africa.
Maybe I do not understand politics, but my understanding is that the election between former US President George Bush Jnr. and former Vice President Al Gore was not one of the elections Americans are very proud of, nor would want to remember. But there it was; it happened!
I can still remember former Vice President Al Gore’s speech to accept former President George Bush Jnr. as winner that election, in the interest of their constitution, democracy and their country. He did not call for America to break up because he did not win, even when it was possible that some Americans would have wanted him to continue to challenge the result of the election. That is called personal sacrifice for the general good.
More recently, we watched history colourfully painted on American canvass, as President Barack Obama, an African - American got elected, and eventually sworn-in.
I am not an American, but I was deeply concerned for him, through the elections, to his declaration as the President-elect, to his inauguration.
Why was I concerned? Well, for some people, it was unthinkable, unacceptable and then I felt maybe he would never get to be sworn-in.
We saw his opponents, notably among them Senator John McCain, stand up in his defense even before hostile Obama opposition.
And so, the hitherto unthinkable happened, an African-American calling the shots from The White House! It does not matter whether it is for only one term or the whole eight years, ‘yes they did’!
Senator McCain did not play the race card, as we do often play the tribe or religion card here, just to win elections at all cost!
He believes in something bigger than party, religious or racial differences (as he went back to the Senate to continue with the business of lawmaking), The United States of America!
Maybe we should change our name to USN; we did change our national anthem and currency at some points!
Much more recently, we watched the hitherto unthinkable, happen in the United Kingdom, the Conservatives forming a government with the Liberal Democrats, and they are still there, (well, as at the time of writing this book).
Never mind me; I do really believe they are going to work together for quite a while. Even if they do not, they have shown that nothing should be impossible in the interest of the common good.
Former Prime Minister Gordon Brown got the message, took his personal belongings out of 10 Downing Street, cleared his table as Labour Party leader, and headed home.
He did not work against Cameron and Clegg getting to form a government, nor did he insist on leading the Labour Party even when other party members and their party constitution say no, nor go ahead and form his own party, as would have happened here.
And all of these took just days, not weeks, months or even years with several trips to the courts, not to talk of the huge amount of money that would have been wasted along with some precious and innocent lives, limbs and sanity, had it been here.
Did all Britons like what happened? Of course not! But they all went along with the arrangement.
Why, because their focus is on something far bigger than party, ideological or individual differences, The United Kingdom!
It does look like there is something about that word ‘United’, that we should really consider incorporating into our name.
I got interested in Poland during the communist era because of one man.
I am not a politician, nor am I a historian, but I studied history, and love to observe, and follow events as they unfold around me.
Right from my secondary school days, through the ‘World News’ columns of the News Papers that my father bought, I admired the courage, determination organisational qualities of Lech Walesa the father of ‘Solidarity’ and 1983 Noble Peace Laureate, as he struggled to pool the labour and civil society movements together against an oppressive system of governance in Poland.
He eventually became a president in post-communist Poland, but he worked for it. It did not happen in one day neither was it at no personal costs to him. I might be wrong, but I believe that today, Poland has benefitted from his many trips to jail, facilitated by an oppressive system of governance.
He succeeded in uniting the labour and civil society movements, to become a potent political force in Poland peacefully, as Walesa himself commented years later, ‘…"Why did we do all of it?" ...."To launch a new epoch, one without divisions. Without one shot, our generation was able to do it...’
And he even got commended by one of his former arch-enemies and former Polish President Aleksander Kwasniewski, who said, ‘We all live in a free Poland, and there would be no free Poland without you. ... Twenty-five years ago, I did not stand on the same side together with you, but today I have no doubts that it was your vision of Poland which led us in the right direction."...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Monday, August 23, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: DO YOU REALLY BELIEVE THAT NOTHING HAS CHANGED IN ...
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: DO YOU REALLY BELIEVE THAT NOTHING HAS CHANGED IN ...: "...We find it difficult put our issues out in public, to take jokes resulting from our mistakes, laugh about them, learn from them and move ..."
DO YOU REALLY BELIEVE THAT NOTHING HAS CHANGED IN NIGERIA?
...We find it difficult put our issues out in public, to take jokes resulting from our mistakes, laugh about them, learn from them and move on. This has helped some of the nations we want to be like.
Many Nigerians argue that nothing has changed in Nigeria.
Maybe that is true, depending on what their definition of ‘change’ is, as well as the areas of our national life to which they refer, and from what time period.
Yes we are not where we should be, in many areas. But we have made some progress. And you need peace and stability to make any type of progress, whether personal or national.
Be that as it may, may I remind us again that we have only gone about eleven years into this ‘experiment’.
I stand to be corrected, but I think this is the longest period of time (1999-2010) as a nation that we have had civilian rule.
We have managed somehow, to change the occupants of Aso Rock three and a half times. We are warming up to try for the fourth time, which I see as another opportunity for a win-win situation for Nigeria if the WAZOBIA politicians somehow find it in themselves to think ‘Nigeria’ first, not party not zone!.
But is that going to happen? Well, let’s wait and see.
Change, is a process and requires some time. It is not an event. It is our attitude and behaviour, coupled with the consistency we apply towards the discharge of our civic and other socio-economic responsibilities as individuals, and then collectively as a people, that is the key to the development we all crave.
An eleven year old child that graduates from a university programme with first class honours, would be considered, and would indeed be a genius.
Political office seekers or holders in Nigeria need to understand and exhibit to the rest of us, that national interest is far bigger than personal, tribal, religious or party interest.
They do really need to stop practicing what I think it was the late Mallam Aminu Kano that referred to it as the ‘politics of bitterness’, which is portrayed in scenarios like if they ‘win’ an election, destroying or discarding everything done by their predecessors, even the good ones; and if they lose, they engage in endless selfish court cases, with individuals working at folding political parties into their pockets, and should they fail to achieve that, tear up the party, cross to another one or form their own parties and glide right back to the ones they had worked at tearing up, at will, with the people they had left welcoming them back with open arms. And then go right ahead to quote to the rest of us, ‘…in politics, there are no permanent friends or enemies. Only permanent interests…’
I am still trying to understand what those ‘permanent interests’ represent for Nigerian politicians. But to my mind, it should be Nigeria. It however does not seem so, so far.
The tragedy of this kind of attitude and disposition is that they apply the same strategy to national issues, and our nationhood.
They work at folding the country into their pockets, and should they fail, they start to play the tribal and religious cards, beating drums that call for tearing Nigeria apart screaming ‘marginalisation’, and then encourage the military to come and take over.
And then we start all over again, wishing and waiting, for ‘Godot’ Maybe...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Many Nigerians argue that nothing has changed in Nigeria.
Maybe that is true, depending on what their definition of ‘change’ is, as well as the areas of our national life to which they refer, and from what time period.
Yes we are not where we should be, in many areas. But we have made some progress. And you need peace and stability to make any type of progress, whether personal or national.
Be that as it may, may I remind us again that we have only gone about eleven years into this ‘experiment’.
I stand to be corrected, but I think this is the longest period of time (1999-2010) as a nation that we have had civilian rule.
We have managed somehow, to change the occupants of Aso Rock three and a half times. We are warming up to try for the fourth time, which I see as another opportunity for a win-win situation for Nigeria if the WAZOBIA politicians somehow find it in themselves to think ‘Nigeria’ first, not party not zone!.
But is that going to happen? Well, let’s wait and see.
Change, is a process and requires some time. It is not an event. It is our attitude and behaviour, coupled with the consistency we apply towards the discharge of our civic and other socio-economic responsibilities as individuals, and then collectively as a people, that is the key to the development we all crave.
An eleven year old child that graduates from a university programme with first class honours, would be considered, and would indeed be a genius.
Political office seekers or holders in Nigeria need to understand and exhibit to the rest of us, that national interest is far bigger than personal, tribal, religious or party interest.
They do really need to stop practicing what I think it was the late Mallam Aminu Kano that referred to it as the ‘politics of bitterness’, which is portrayed in scenarios like if they ‘win’ an election, destroying or discarding everything done by their predecessors, even the good ones; and if they lose, they engage in endless selfish court cases, with individuals working at folding political parties into their pockets, and should they fail to achieve that, tear up the party, cross to another one or form their own parties and glide right back to the ones they had worked at tearing up, at will, with the people they had left welcoming them back with open arms. And then go right ahead to quote to the rest of us, ‘…in politics, there are no permanent friends or enemies. Only permanent interests…’
I am still trying to understand what those ‘permanent interests’ represent for Nigerian politicians. But to my mind, it should be Nigeria. It however does not seem so, so far.
The tragedy of this kind of attitude and disposition is that they apply the same strategy to national issues, and our nationhood.
They work at folding the country into their pockets, and should they fail, they start to play the tribal and religious cards, beating drums that call for tearing Nigeria apart screaming ‘marginalisation’, and then encourage the military to come and take over.
And then we start all over again, wishing and waiting, for ‘Godot’ Maybe...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Sunday, August 22, 2010
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IS CORRUPTION NIGERIA'S PROBLEM?
BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET_ WE NEED PEACE IN NIGERIA!: IS CORRUPTION NIGERIA'S PROBLEM?: "...Some people say that Nigeria’s problem is corruption, but I do not agree! Not that I am in support of corruption, or that I am saying the..."
IS CORRUPTION NIGERIA'S PROBLEM?
...Some people say that Nigeria’s problem is corruption, but I do not agree! Not that I am in support of corruption, or that I am saying there is no corruption in Nigeria.
I disagree because to my mind, corruption is a symptom of a social disease that stunts development. That disease is known as parochialism.
We have been having challenges with combating corruption in Nigeria, because we have been focusing on the symptom of a disease. And then eventually like now, it becomes like the egg and chick dilemma – which is first. If the rest of us cannot speak about issues with one voice, and act on them with one resolve, then, corruption will be with us big time, for a long while!
Politicians in Nigeria have found out that so long as they can find ways to keep the populace divided along parochial lines, they will always get their ways by playing their game cards along those lines, and removing the focus of the populace from issues through which they, the politicians can be held accountable by the populace.
Issues like how people are elected into any political office in Nigeria.
If Nigerian politicians are really voted for, and they get to win elections based on actual votes from legitimate electorates who know what they want, who they voted for and why they voted for those persons, when those politicians get to whatever offices at which they need to serve the people that voted them into those offices, they will behave themselves because, they know they would have to get back to ask those same electorates, to vote for them again.
But that is not the situation right now. Nigerian Politicians are accountable only to a flawed electoral system characterized by an unreliable voters’ register, multiple single persons’ thumb prints of ballot papers and illegally stuffed ballot boxes, as revealed by former Cross River State governor Donald Duke; and they had been smiling to Aso Rock, and then to their banks, stashing away funds with which they continue to legitimatize parochialism.
Why, because they can afford to take a largely ignorant and divided electorate for granted, since the politicians did not need them to get ‘elected’ in the first place.
This is one of the reasons why we need to have a credible, and constantly updatable voters’ register.
It is also a reason for which all Nigerians that are qualified to vote at elections should go out and vote, at all elections, like happened in 1993.
When we are able to conduct credible elections, and politicians become accountable to a legitimate electorate, corruption that is linked to politics (which is actually the largest form of corruption, and the one that directly impacts on development in Nigeria), should die a natural death.
Simplistic you say?
I do not think so...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
I disagree because to my mind, corruption is a symptom of a social disease that stunts development. That disease is known as parochialism.
We have been having challenges with combating corruption in Nigeria, because we have been focusing on the symptom of a disease. And then eventually like now, it becomes like the egg and chick dilemma – which is first. If the rest of us cannot speak about issues with one voice, and act on them with one resolve, then, corruption will be with us big time, for a long while!
Politicians in Nigeria have found out that so long as they can find ways to keep the populace divided along parochial lines, they will always get their ways by playing their game cards along those lines, and removing the focus of the populace from issues through which they, the politicians can be held accountable by the populace.
Issues like how people are elected into any political office in Nigeria.
If Nigerian politicians are really voted for, and they get to win elections based on actual votes from legitimate electorates who know what they want, who they voted for and why they voted for those persons, when those politicians get to whatever offices at which they need to serve the people that voted them into those offices, they will behave themselves because, they know they would have to get back to ask those same electorates, to vote for them again.
But that is not the situation right now. Nigerian Politicians are accountable only to a flawed electoral system characterized by an unreliable voters’ register, multiple single persons’ thumb prints of ballot papers and illegally stuffed ballot boxes, as revealed by former Cross River State governor Donald Duke; and they had been smiling to Aso Rock, and then to their banks, stashing away funds with which they continue to legitimatize parochialism.
Why, because they can afford to take a largely ignorant and divided electorate for granted, since the politicians did not need them to get ‘elected’ in the first place.
This is one of the reasons why we need to have a credible, and constantly updatable voters’ register.
It is also a reason for which all Nigerians that are qualified to vote at elections should go out and vote, at all elections, like happened in 1993.
When we are able to conduct credible elections, and politicians become accountable to a legitimate electorate, corruption that is linked to politics (which is actually the largest form of corruption, and the one that directly impacts on development in Nigeria), should die a natural death.
Simplistic you say?
I do not think so...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Saturday, August 21, 2010
LET'S FIGHT!
...Why do we always have to resort to ‘let’s break it!’, anytime there are issues we do not agree with, or when things do not go our way?
The outcome of the Major Gideon Orka coup of April 1990 should have thought us that before anyone starts toying with the idea of breaking up Nigeria, the person or the individuals concerned should think again; and that even the might of the gun is not strong enough to break up Nigeria!
Well, I still remember a refrain from the broadcast on Federal radio during the civil war, ‘…to keep Nigeria one is a task that must be done…’ People died to perform that task! Maybe some of us have forgotten that.
Whether he and his colleagues spoke or acted ‘hastily’ or not, it was not just those who were in the government that was being toppled that were horrified about their intentions. Ordinary Nigerians like myself, were terrified about the idea that Nigeria was being ‘sliced’ into bits, as we listened to his broadcast.
We certainly do have our differences. But we also do have more things binding us together, than those that seem to divide us.
So, why must it always be ‘…let’s fight..!’?
Why do we ‘mouth’ democracy, and dream of being where some nations are today, without wanting to take a deeper look at, or learn anything from the experiences they have had, and in some cases, are still having?
Why are we refusing to talk about our painful and unpleasant experiences, what are our Historians and movie producers doing? A Nigerian friend of mine who read excerpts of this book as was posting them on my status on Facebook said, ‘…actually (I) watched a series on Liberia and Sierra Leone(war),recently and I shudder to think if it were Nigeria". I repeat, Nigerians know next to nothing about very important aspects of our National history, while knowing quite some, about what happened/happens in other countries.
Why do we find it difficult, if not outright impossible to believe in or commit to anything, instead of ‘going with the flow’, or joining in the song ‘…if you can’t beat them, join them…’?
Sometime not too long ago, some parents forced their children to join the military. Not so they can serve Nigeria, but probably so they could maybe, get to be in the ‘right’ group, make a coup, and get to Dodan Barracks(it eventually became Aso Rock, via a hasty move to Abuja, courtesy of the Major Gideon Orka coup). Today, the thing in vogue is for parents and kinsmen to push their children to get into politics, targeting Aso Rock or the State Houses, not so they can serve Nigeria, but for purely selfish and greedy reasons.
I strongly believe that we need to do something, through legal and constitutional means, to make Aso Rock and the State Houses less attractive as they are now. That ‘something’ should not be the irritating 'calls' and insinuations, by those who are unable to get to Aso Rock, for Nigeria to be broken up. What is happening in some states, notably Ekiti, that is over ninety percent populated by Ekiti speaking people, should tell any right thinking persons that the solution to our challenges, is not for Nigeria to break up. It is like saying that the only solution to getting credible elections conducted in Ekiti, and get its impoverished citizens to get on with their lives, and enjoy the ‘dividends of democracy’, is to divide Ekiti State!
Some Nigerians are talking of a ‘Sovereign National Conference’, while what they actually mean is a ‘Religio-Tribal Conference’ to be attended by the same recycled and reshuffled politicians, without any clue as to how to focus on issues of national development, other than what which tribe or zone should get, or how to represent religious and other parochial interests.
Now, my question is this, if we could conduct credible elections and elect qualified and national minded individuals, who would respect the constitution and focus on real issues of national development and not those of personal, religious or sectional interest; then who needs any other conference?
Oh, I can hear you say that our Constitution is not perfect! But then, there is no perfect constitution anywhere.
The National Assembly if properly elected, can work at addressing any areas of concern in the Constitution, and then involve the rest of us to lend our voices, through referenda...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
The outcome of the Major Gideon Orka coup of April 1990 should have thought us that before anyone starts toying with the idea of breaking up Nigeria, the person or the individuals concerned should think again; and that even the might of the gun is not strong enough to break up Nigeria!
Well, I still remember a refrain from the broadcast on Federal radio during the civil war, ‘…to keep Nigeria one is a task that must be done…’ People died to perform that task! Maybe some of us have forgotten that.
Whether he and his colleagues spoke or acted ‘hastily’ or not, it was not just those who were in the government that was being toppled that were horrified about their intentions. Ordinary Nigerians like myself, were terrified about the idea that Nigeria was being ‘sliced’ into bits, as we listened to his broadcast.
We certainly do have our differences. But we also do have more things binding us together, than those that seem to divide us.
So, why must it always be ‘…let’s fight..!’?
Why do we ‘mouth’ democracy, and dream of being where some nations are today, without wanting to take a deeper look at, or learn anything from the experiences they have had, and in some cases, are still having?
Why are we refusing to talk about our painful and unpleasant experiences, what are our Historians and movie producers doing? A Nigerian friend of mine who read excerpts of this book as was posting them on my status on Facebook said, ‘…actually (I) watched a series on Liberia and Sierra Leone(war),recently and I shudder to think if it were Nigeria". I repeat, Nigerians know next to nothing about very important aspects of our National history, while knowing quite some, about what happened/happens in other countries.
Why do we find it difficult, if not outright impossible to believe in or commit to anything, instead of ‘going with the flow’, or joining in the song ‘…if you can’t beat them, join them…’?
Sometime not too long ago, some parents forced their children to join the military. Not so they can serve Nigeria, but probably so they could maybe, get to be in the ‘right’ group, make a coup, and get to Dodan Barracks(it eventually became Aso Rock, via a hasty move to Abuja, courtesy of the Major Gideon Orka coup). Today, the thing in vogue is for parents and kinsmen to push their children to get into politics, targeting Aso Rock or the State Houses, not so they can serve Nigeria, but for purely selfish and greedy reasons.
I strongly believe that we need to do something, through legal and constitutional means, to make Aso Rock and the State Houses less attractive as they are now. That ‘something’ should not be the irritating 'calls' and insinuations, by those who are unable to get to Aso Rock, for Nigeria to be broken up. What is happening in some states, notably Ekiti, that is over ninety percent populated by Ekiti speaking people, should tell any right thinking persons that the solution to our challenges, is not for Nigeria to break up. It is like saying that the only solution to getting credible elections conducted in Ekiti, and get its impoverished citizens to get on with their lives, and enjoy the ‘dividends of democracy’, is to divide Ekiti State!
Some Nigerians are talking of a ‘Sovereign National Conference’, while what they actually mean is a ‘Religio-Tribal Conference’ to be attended by the same recycled and reshuffled politicians, without any clue as to how to focus on issues of national development, other than what which tribe or zone should get, or how to represent religious and other parochial interests.
Now, my question is this, if we could conduct credible elections and elect qualified and national minded individuals, who would respect the constitution and focus on real issues of national development and not those of personal, religious or sectional interest; then who needs any other conference?
Oh, I can hear you say that our Constitution is not perfect! But then, there is no perfect constitution anywhere.
The National Assembly if properly elected, can work at addressing any areas of concern in the Constitution, and then involve the rest of us to lend our voices, through referenda...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Friday, August 20, 2010
THE DRUMS HAVE STARTED!
...The thing that finally got me writing and quit ‘thinking’, apart from the fact that this is Nigeria’s year of Jubilee, was a mail forwarded to me by my wife about two weeks ago. She had travelled to Tanzania on some official business, and thought she should share the mail with me, before she got back. The mail was about the communiqué from the conference of a group of Nigerians in the US, who felt they had the right to speak on behalf of the Yoruba people of Nigeria. The mail was equally forwarded to her from an e-group to which she subscribes, Ekitipanupo. She had earlier forwarded a mail to me, containing the published address of former governor of Cross River State in South-South Nigeria, Mr. Donald Duke, in which he ‘revealed’ what was titled ‘The ABCD of Rigging in Nigeria’, in that mail.
When I read those mails, I was alarmed, and felt it was finally time for me to write this book. I do not have to reproduce what they said in their very selfish and thoughtless communiqué (that no group of Americans in the US where they live and held the conference, would dare to attempt) here, it is on the web. Be that as it may, I repeat, I was alarmed, and for good reasons...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
When I read those mails, I was alarmed, and felt it was finally time for me to write this book. I do not have to reproduce what they said in their very selfish and thoughtless communiqué (that no group of Americans in the US where they live and held the conference, would dare to attempt) here, it is on the web. Be that as it may, I repeat, I was alarmed, and for good reasons...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
CASUALTIES OF WAR
...BIAFRA: LEST WE FORGET!, is my recollection of the civil war that began in Nigeria in 1966 and ‘ended’ in 1970. I put ended in quotes because, yes that war has ended, but the effects of that war still linger psycho-socially, and if you like, there is still the economic angle to it. If you doubt me, go and read Professor Chinua Achebe’s THE TROUBLE WITH NIGERIA.
I was about seven years old when it started, and about eleven years old, when it ‘ended’. I am over fifty years now and still, the images and the effects of that war are still steely etched in my memory. They have refused to fade.
Some Nigerians (especially politicians) think that watching America bomb Iraq or Afghanistan (from the safety of their television sets via CNN or Fox or BBC) is what war is all about.
Our elders say that when two elephants fight, the grass suffers. I want to believe that you know who the elephants are, and of course, who the grass is? In case you do not know, the grass is all of us, and the elephants? Well, fill in the blank spaces, or do some math by adding or subtracting…not division.
In any case two of the ‘elephants’ that took part in that war, have already written books recounting their war experiences. One, General Olusegun Obasanjo called his book MY COMMAND. The other, Chief Emeka Ojukwu called his book BECAUSE I AM INVOLVED. A few others have also written about that war, notably, Alexander Modiebo; but all mostly from the view points of the military.
Well I believe the time is over due for the ‘grass’ to begin to speak. So, I am writing because I am affected.
I am the fifth of my mother’s children. Three of my elder siblings, my eldest brother, my sister (my mother’s only daughter), and my brother after her, participated in that war, albeit involuntarily. One of them, my eldest brother barely managed to escape the amputation of one of his legs after a bullet wound in active combat, just by the grace of my sister being around their area of operation, and then her intervention. He still walks with a ‘stylish’ limp. They are all alive today, and can be interviewed about their experiences.
I am writing because my generation that witnessed that war is hugely affected (go to the towns and villages in the South East, South-South of Nigeria and other areas which were ‘theatres’ for that war, and sample levels of livelihoods of fifty year olds who experienced that war). We lost out on going to school (I started school at about age 5, I remember my father had to go get my birth certificate, because I was finding it difficult to touch my left ear across my head with my right hand, which was considered proof for ‘old enough to be in school’ then, yet I graduated from secondary school at the age of twenty, even when I never repeated any class from the time I started school after the war), growing up properly, both physically and intellectually…
In 1988, I was travelling to Enugu, by road with Majek Fashek in the course of the MAMSER TOURS (which gave me an opportunity to travel round some towns and villages of this country and saw things for myself). I was Majek’s Publicist. My first published book later that same year, TRAILBLAZER, was about him. As we got to a stretch along the Onitsha-Enugu Expressway, we saw an army of limbless people on both sides of the road begging for alms, we stopped and chatted with them, Majek even pulled his box guitar, and played SEND DOWN THE RAIN for them. They are casualties from that war. That was the first time I thought of writing this book.
Like my son said, I am lucky to be alive. I do not want the same to be said of my son, and his generation…
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
I was about seven years old when it started, and about eleven years old, when it ‘ended’. I am over fifty years now and still, the images and the effects of that war are still steely etched in my memory. They have refused to fade.
Some Nigerians (especially politicians) think that watching America bomb Iraq or Afghanistan (from the safety of their television sets via CNN or Fox or BBC) is what war is all about.
Our elders say that when two elephants fight, the grass suffers. I want to believe that you know who the elephants are, and of course, who the grass is? In case you do not know, the grass is all of us, and the elephants? Well, fill in the blank spaces, or do some math by adding or subtracting…not division.
In any case two of the ‘elephants’ that took part in that war, have already written books recounting their war experiences. One, General Olusegun Obasanjo called his book MY COMMAND. The other, Chief Emeka Ojukwu called his book BECAUSE I AM INVOLVED. A few others have also written about that war, notably, Alexander Modiebo; but all mostly from the view points of the military.
Well I believe the time is over due for the ‘grass’ to begin to speak. So, I am writing because I am affected.
I am the fifth of my mother’s children. Three of my elder siblings, my eldest brother, my sister (my mother’s only daughter), and my brother after her, participated in that war, albeit involuntarily. One of them, my eldest brother barely managed to escape the amputation of one of his legs after a bullet wound in active combat, just by the grace of my sister being around their area of operation, and then her intervention. He still walks with a ‘stylish’ limp. They are all alive today, and can be interviewed about their experiences.
I am writing because my generation that witnessed that war is hugely affected (go to the towns and villages in the South East, South-South of Nigeria and other areas which were ‘theatres’ for that war, and sample levels of livelihoods of fifty year olds who experienced that war). We lost out on going to school (I started school at about age 5, I remember my father had to go get my birth certificate, because I was finding it difficult to touch my left ear across my head with my right hand, which was considered proof for ‘old enough to be in school’ then, yet I graduated from secondary school at the age of twenty, even when I never repeated any class from the time I started school after the war), growing up properly, both physically and intellectually…
In 1988, I was travelling to Enugu, by road with Majek Fashek in the course of the MAMSER TOURS (which gave me an opportunity to travel round some towns and villages of this country and saw things for myself). I was Majek’s Publicist. My first published book later that same year, TRAILBLAZER, was about him. As we got to a stretch along the Onitsha-Enugu Expressway, we saw an army of limbless people on both sides of the road begging for alms, we stopped and chatted with them, Majek even pulled his box guitar, and played SEND DOWN THE RAIN for them. They are casualties from that war. That was the first time I thought of writing this book.
Like my son said, I am lucky to be alive. I do not want the same to be said of my son, and his generation…
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Monday, August 16, 2010
WE DON'T TALK, THEY GET MISLED!
...Sometime in 2008, I was invited to speak to a group of young people in a youth camp in an outskirt of Lagos. I was to speak to them about assertiveness and self esteem.
As the talk progressed, we got to a point where I made a reference to a beauty pageant that took place in Lagos in 1987, expecting my audience to flow with me. And when I say ‘audience’, I am referring to a group of young people who from the profile given to me before I went for the programme included undergraduates and some graduates. So I was taken aback, when I noticed that they kind of were not flowing with me, as I repeatedly said ‘Omasan Buwa, 1987 Most Beautiful Girl in Nigeria’.
Luckily, one of them raised a hand (and in my mind, I thought ‘relief’), and said ‘… sir, I was not yet born then...’
Those were her exact words. Then the thought of ‘relief’ disappeared!
Alarmed, I said to myself, ‘…you mean these young people do not know about an event that happened in 1987, and it is even a show business event!?’ So how would they know about civic issues or events that happened in the sixties and seventies…?
I looked and felt stupid. Because, I had assumed that they would know about what I was referring to, considering their physique, environment and educational backgrounds. How wrong I was, how wrong we are!
The ruling class assumes that the populace (at least those that can and do have the means to, which is usually a very small percentage of that populace) ought to know what is happening with governance by listening to, watching or reading the ‘news’ as presented by a largely compromised media.
You probably must have heard this before, am sure it would not hurt to repeat it here; communication has no life of its own, outside of what people in a communication relationship put into communication. In other words, if people are not informed about issues, they do not get to know about those issues. Or put differently, it is what we talk about that becomes known. On the flip side of that is an infamous word known as ‘rumour’.
Little wonder then, that our young people and indeed foreigners erroneously ‘know’ so much about Nigeria being a nation of ritualists and fetish beliefs, courtesy of Nollywood, and knowing very little or nothing at all about our national history and true ways of life!
As if the jolt from the young people at the youth camp was not enough, last month, my eleven year old son Didie, walked into my study and went like ‘…dad…?’, I knew something was coming up! So, I said ‘yep’. He continued. ‘…I’ve been meaning to ask…’ I said ‘…go on…’, ‘…eh, what made this (touching a scar on my forehead) hole on your head…?’
I said well, it is something that happened a long time ago, and that it is a long story. He asked me how long? And without thinking much about it, I said during the civil war…
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
As the talk progressed, we got to a point where I made a reference to a beauty pageant that took place in Lagos in 1987, expecting my audience to flow with me. And when I say ‘audience’, I am referring to a group of young people who from the profile given to me before I went for the programme included undergraduates and some graduates. So I was taken aback, when I noticed that they kind of were not flowing with me, as I repeatedly said ‘Omasan Buwa, 1987 Most Beautiful Girl in Nigeria’.
Luckily, one of them raised a hand (and in my mind, I thought ‘relief’), and said ‘… sir, I was not yet born then...’
Those were her exact words. Then the thought of ‘relief’ disappeared!
Alarmed, I said to myself, ‘…you mean these young people do not know about an event that happened in 1987, and it is even a show business event!?’ So how would they know about civic issues or events that happened in the sixties and seventies…?
I looked and felt stupid. Because, I had assumed that they would know about what I was referring to, considering their physique, environment and educational backgrounds. How wrong I was, how wrong we are!
The ruling class assumes that the populace (at least those that can and do have the means to, which is usually a very small percentage of that populace) ought to know what is happening with governance by listening to, watching or reading the ‘news’ as presented by a largely compromised media.
You probably must have heard this before, am sure it would not hurt to repeat it here; communication has no life of its own, outside of what people in a communication relationship put into communication. In other words, if people are not informed about issues, they do not get to know about those issues. Or put differently, it is what we talk about that becomes known. On the flip side of that is an infamous word known as ‘rumour’.
Little wonder then, that our young people and indeed foreigners erroneously ‘know’ so much about Nigeria being a nation of ritualists and fetish beliefs, courtesy of Nollywood, and knowing very little or nothing at all about our national history and true ways of life!
As if the jolt from the young people at the youth camp was not enough, last month, my eleven year old son Didie, walked into my study and went like ‘…dad…?’, I knew something was coming up! So, I said ‘yep’. He continued. ‘…I’ve been meaning to ask…’ I said ‘…go on…’, ‘…eh, what made this (touching a scar on my forehead) hole on your head…?’
I said well, it is something that happened a long time ago, and that it is a long story. He asked me how long? And without thinking much about it, I said during the civil war…
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
WE HAVE COME A LONG WAY!
...Events like the 1993 elections generally believed to have been won by Bashorun MKO Abiola, it’s annulment by General Ibrahim Babangida (a loss of a win-win opportunity for Nigeria), and the social unrest that followed across Nigeria, with the attending insight that Nigerians know what they want and that it is possible for us to act as one, to pursue a common interest. The General Sani Abacha years that followed, when any prominent or outspoken Nigerian that could or not be ‘settled’ to support the government had one of three options to consider – die (General Shehu Musa Yar’Adua, Bashorun MKO Abiola), go to jail (General Olusegun Obasanjo) or run away (Dr. Kayode Fayemi), with the attendant insights that God really loves Nigeria, and that no one is beyond His Divine will and control.
It might also be helpful, to remind ourselves of the events that followed from 1999, culminating in what I still consider a ‘transitional experimentation’ with democracy with some new additions to our word count like ‘godfatherism’ made prominent with elections in Anambra state, (we are just about eleven years into that, within which time we have not heard ‘…fellow country men…’!), with the attending insights that though things are not perfect yet (and there is no perfect nation for that matter. If there were, there would have been no need for such words as ‘referenda’, or such phrases as ‘constitutional amendments’ in reference to democracy and governance), that it is possible for any Nigerian outside of the WAZOBIA group to occupy Aso Rock, and that we would get to our destination if we do know where that is.
Somehow, I believe we will get ‘there’ sha one day, certainly not 2020!...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
It might also be helpful, to remind ourselves of the events that followed from 1999, culminating in what I still consider a ‘transitional experimentation’ with democracy with some new additions to our word count like ‘godfatherism’ made prominent with elections in Anambra state, (we are just about eleven years into that, within which time we have not heard ‘…fellow country men…’!), with the attending insights that though things are not perfect yet (and there is no perfect nation for that matter. If there were, there would have been no need for such words as ‘referenda’, or such phrases as ‘constitutional amendments’ in reference to democracy and governance), that it is possible for any Nigerian outside of the WAZOBIA group to occupy Aso Rock, and that we would get to our destination if we do know where that is.
Somehow, I believe we will get ‘there’ sha one day, certainly not 2020!...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
NIGERIANS NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAD HAPPENED, & WHAT IS HAPPENNING.
...Nigerians in rural and urban settings need accurate, timely, structured and sustained flow of relevant information on national issues, to make informed decisions about governance and development, which should include to vote or not to vote, who or what to vote for, or not to vote for during elections.
When this is not available Nigerians become suspicious, and dissatisfied with governance. And then, unpatriotic Nigerians exploit that gap and need for their selfish ends, thereby creating rumours and conflicts which do not aid development in any way.
The provision of accurate information about our national history and ways of life is not the responsibility of government alone, though the government has a huge role to play, which is to create an enabling environment for peace to reign which enables ordinary Nigerians like myself to go about our business of looking for our daily bread, and contributing to the national ‘good’.
We know so much about American history and way of life through the eyes of Hollywood, books and documentaries written and produced by Americans. There are thousands, if not tens of thousands of movies, songs, books, documentaries about the American civil war, and their struggles with development challenges ranging from organised crime, to drugs, to human or civil rights issues, with some focusing on those issues as they affect national policies while some focus on how they impact or impacted on individuals and families. They are not only for entertainment purposes, but also serve for historical and educational purposes.
The White House did not produce or commission the production of all of those movies, songs, books and documentaries...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
When this is not available Nigerians become suspicious, and dissatisfied with governance. And then, unpatriotic Nigerians exploit that gap and need for their selfish ends, thereby creating rumours and conflicts which do not aid development in any way.
The provision of accurate information about our national history and ways of life is not the responsibility of government alone, though the government has a huge role to play, which is to create an enabling environment for peace to reign which enables ordinary Nigerians like myself to go about our business of looking for our daily bread, and contributing to the national ‘good’.
We know so much about American history and way of life through the eyes of Hollywood, books and documentaries written and produced by Americans. There are thousands, if not tens of thousands of movies, songs, books, documentaries about the American civil war, and their struggles with development challenges ranging from organised crime, to drugs, to human or civil rights issues, with some focusing on those issues as they affect national policies while some focus on how they impact or impacted on individuals and families. They are not only for entertainment purposes, but also serve for historical and educational purposes.
The White House did not produce or commission the production of all of those movies, songs, books and documentaries...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
WHAT ARE WE "RE-BRANDING"?
...You are probably wondering where I am headed with all these talks about seats, furniture, clients, satisfaction or conflicts and ‘rebranding’?
Yes, that word - ‘re-branding’, that has become a very annoying cliché in reference to the Nigeria enterprise, as if Nigeria is a brand of beverage that needs a new label or packaging while the product contents remain much the same!
We need to change things from inside out. From the individual – the type, form, time and amount of information about national issues available to that individual, to the family…And not just a word or phrase flashed on television screens, or chorused by government officials.
We have far more serious issues than ‘new coats of paint’ on our national ‘wall’. The biggest of such problems to my mind, is our lack of sense for, or an understanding of our national history...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET
Yes, that word - ‘re-branding’, that has become a very annoying cliché in reference to the Nigeria enterprise, as if Nigeria is a brand of beverage that needs a new label or packaging while the product contents remain much the same!
We need to change things from inside out. From the individual – the type, form, time and amount of information about national issues available to that individual, to the family…And not just a word or phrase flashed on television screens, or chorused by government officials.
We have far more serious issues than ‘new coats of paint’ on our national ‘wall’. The biggest of such problems to my mind, is our lack of sense for, or an understanding of our national history...
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET
BECAUSE I AM AFFECTED
I believe in the Nigeria enterprise.
Biologically, and if you like genetically, sociologically and by conviction, I am a detribalised Nigerian.
My names are Richie Aderopo Chile Adewusi. My father was Yoruba from the present Ekiti State, and my mother is Ibo, from the present Abia state, and I, am a Nigerian.
I do not believe I am a Nigerian by accident, or that I could have been better off anywhere else. I believe and affirm that this is the best ‘seat’ in the planet, fashioned by the almighty God for the benefit of all Nigerians, and all true friends of Nigeria.
But then, seats can and do get dusty, even gold plated ones that are abandoned or left uncared for, for long periods of time. What do we do with such seats?
Throw them away, throw them into a furnace to melt or break them up?
Certainly not, though some might say yes to one or more of those options, depending on the resources available to them, but there is only one NAIJA!
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Biologically, and if you like genetically, sociologically and by conviction, I am a detribalised Nigerian.
My names are Richie Aderopo Chile Adewusi. My father was Yoruba from the present Ekiti State, and my mother is Ibo, from the present Abia state, and I, am a Nigerian.
I do not believe I am a Nigerian by accident, or that I could have been better off anywhere else. I believe and affirm that this is the best ‘seat’ in the planet, fashioned by the almighty God for the benefit of all Nigerians, and all true friends of Nigeria.
But then, seats can and do get dusty, even gold plated ones that are abandoned or left uncared for, for long periods of time. What do we do with such seats?
Throw them away, throw them into a furnace to melt or break them up?
Certainly not, though some might say yes to one or more of those options, depending on the resources available to them, but there is only one NAIJA!
----BIAFRA:LEST WE FORGET!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)