NIGERIA DECIDES: AND THE WINNER IS…

Buhari Vs Jonathan (Image Source)

There is no doubt that this is arguably the most contentious election that we have seen in our nation’s history. Some people are incensed by the way life has so far been for the average citizen and are clamouring for change, others still see hope with the present administration and believe it deserves another mandate; four more years at Aso Rock. We are certainly at a fork in our road and whatever choice we make today will remain with us forever.

On the one hand we can choose to go east and return the reigns to The Incumbent, what happens then? According to his campaigns, we expect Boko Haram to disappear, rice production to blossom, the hitherto comatose rail network to fully come back to life and his many other promises to come to pass. On the other we can choose to go west and give a chance to The Retired General, what happens then? Again, campaigns say we should expect an end to corruption, massive employment opportunities, of course an end to Boko Haram as well and myriad other promises to materialize.

Now, whether we choose East or West, the truth is that no one knows what will really happen, except for soothsayers and fortune-tellers of course. Let me be the first to confess, however, that there are pros and cons on both sides of the divide, you may not necessarily agree with the opposing pros but that does not make them completely false, I will touch on just one point for each side that I have gathered from the illustrious grape vine.

In favour of The Incumbent I hear, is the sentimentality of his background. An Ijaw man by birth, President Jonathan hails from the oil rich region which has ensured that Nigeria sees its bread and butter for so many years but the people have felt abandoned for even longer. They feel that they have been denied the benefits of the produce of their land, but now, by some divine twist of fate, their son has secured the number one seat in the nation. They see the insecurity in the North-East as a vindictive attack on his administration and even the dwindling Naira they blame on the global fall in oil price. They feel President Jonathan has not performed poorly and deserves to comeback not only because of his identity but also because he is working albeit slowly and unlike most previous leaders has not been accused (directly) of any acts of corruption or stealing (these days, we have been asked to differentiate). One thing I have learnt is that sentiments will never really make sense to you unless you have walked a mile in another’s shoes.

In favour of The Retired General I hear, is the indiscriminate corruption running amok in Nigeria. General Buhari (Rtd) is said to be an honest and a disciplined man, witnessed by his no nonsense days as a military Head of State. He is said to be one of the only former Heads of State not living in superfluous riches when everybody has the perception that one simply enters public office in Nigeria to line personal pockets, shikena! The average citizen will tell you that there is a wealth of resources in the country and that Nigeria has the potential to play ball with the likes of the US, China and Germany if only someone wielding a big stick would beat corruption out of the country. Some people believe they have seen their man in the person of General Buhari (Rtd). You must understand here that people are suffering, more than 60% of the population lives on less than a dollar a day and with the recent devaluation of our currency, that figure is sure to have risen. These people want to see things done differently, they believe 16 years is enough for the ruling People’s Democratic Party (PDP) to have impacted their lives if indeed they meant to.

Then again, the reality on ground is that for some, the present choice is one between the devil and the deep blue sea and they would rather dine with the devil with a long spoon than venture into the vast unknown that is the sea. They believe that the APC is just as good (bad) as their major competition. The question becomes who is your devil and who is your sea?

Party affiliations and personal biases aside, the question on everybody's mind is, "Who will win and what will happen after the results are announced?" The high level of uncertainty is perhaps the reason for the long queues in banks, the crowds at markets and the palpable tension in the air. The spates of violence that have occurred in states like Lagos and Rivers and the mudslinging by major parties are not helping to douse this tension.

At the end of the day, casting your vote is like taking a gamble but the difference is that the winning bet does not guarantee any reward, it could rather seal your fate.

So, my fellow Nigerians, whatever you decide, I wish you the best!

(Image Source)

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NYSC SERIES: THE ROAD TO CAMP’S END

(Otondo Insignia by Juwah Awele)      

[Singing]

“Youthss obeey the claarion callll..."

If you are one of those fortunate enough to have served in the Nigerian National Corps then I am sure you understand better my incorrect spellings and quite frankly, probably sang along. If on the other hand you are yet to serve or haven't been so lucky as to have had the opportunity to serve, then let me give you a peek behind the curtain of the National Youth Service Corp - NYSC.

A mixture of experiences to say the least, the national service as you probably know begins with that glorious day that you finally receive that sheet of A4 paper announcing to the world that you are a now graduate of whatever field you spent the last four to five years studying, and if you are a doctor then that would be the last six to eight years you’ve been cooped up in some higher institution. My journey into service began at about 5:30am on Tuesday, the 5th of August; I serve in the 2014 Batch B Brigade. 

I made my way to the bus park, no fancy terminal like you would imagine, just your average ‘Naija Park’, vehicles everywhere, some semblance of order, muddy floor, that Spartacus type of ambience. This park is important because guess what, it is where I met my first camp babes! Don’t laugh yet, if you are going to be serving your country for essentially peanuts a month (N19,800) then at least you deserve some good company and entertainment. What could be better than dashing and intelligent femme-fatales to keep you company while you slave away in camp and if you are a femme-fatale yourself, then the assorted variety of dashing young men are there to do your bidding - I mean it, you can go through three weeks in camp without spending a dime or lifting a finger, you just need the right *coughs* skill set.

Now where was I, ah yes, my entertainment. To top my luck, my new acquaintances were both pretty and petite - just my type - and they were both named Jennifer, both Jenny for short. I was simply put, at heaven's door! It was like having twins all to myself - I hope they never see this, my runz go scatta. At this time I should mention that I am a dashing young man, a catch for all you ladies out there and I had given myself that extra-fresh Dbanj look the day before, so your boy - my humble self - was looking fly!

[Enter camp]

My vehicle had to stop about a hundred metres to the camp gates so we could be searched and any potential insurgent/terrorist fished out and dealt with - see what Boko Haram has caused, mstcheew. I joined the queue along with other Otondos, another name for corpers or even White Foul (you’ll soon know why), and groggily passed through the military check points and cleared my registration. The Sagamu camp, the Ogun state permanent national service facility wasn’t bad at all. I was expecting the worst, to be honest, but I was pleasantly surprised. I hear it is one of the best in all of 36 states so I guess I was lucky - but I tenk God oo, Kro-kro and lapa-lapa for don kill me finish! I was given my accommodation and camp uniform; white shirt on white shorts with white shoes and white socks (hence, the White foul). I mounted my uniform and saddled up for the three week experience. 

(See Tall Soulja by Juwah Awele

Three weeks, hmmm, it can either go by in a flash or drag on forever, but that all depends on which side of the divide you choose to stand. Whether you choose to embrace the camp and its short comings or you want to complain 24/7 about every little thing, three weeks is three weeks and you are stuck in that camp - except your papa get leg/hand/mouth sha, then abeg bros no vex, pity us mortals. The daily routine, however, was almost always the same, wake up at 4:30am, be at the parade ground by 5:30 with the rest of your platoon - corpers are divided into groups called platoons, pray, sing the national anthem, sing the state anthem, sing the NYSC anthem (we sing taya), say the pledge, listen to the camp director, do some military drills and then man o’ war shenanigans. After war, sanitation then breakfast by 7:30, lectures next (deathly boring, but once in a blue moon manageable), then lunch at 1:30pm. I forget what happens in the rest of the time but then there’s dinner at about 7pm. Now that the boring stuff has been listed, the part you’ve all been waiting for…MAMME TIME!!!

Mamme time is the time when corp-members are free to roam around in mamme market, the period when the music goes up and liquid prohibition inhibitors, C2H5OH, come out - I’ll leave clues for what the funning look code means - the sights and sounds are sublime! Mamme time is the time to toast that babe or fine boy you’ve been eyeing all day long, please no dulling. Look let me tell you now, if you approach any babe/guy and s/he is forming activity for you, my friend, please on to the next one! I can personally guarantee you that there is a finer and better version out there waiting for you! In fact, if you can prove me wrong, I will bless your bank account! But they haven’t paid us allawee (allowance) for the month yet so you’ll have to be patient with me. 

My highlights of the whole experience would have to be the new friends I made, the knowledge I gained as part of both the maintenance and broadcasting teams, the funny way people fainted or feigned fainting to get out of parade and marching, the day we in the maintenance crew helped to save the lives of two young asthma patients and last but not least, when ‘Egbon mi Ookon' - 'My Number One Senior Bros’, ‘The One with the Special Cap’, Governor Senator Ibikunle Amosun CGFF attended our passing-out-parade and blessed us with an extra N10,000 each. The Governor is my personal person jare and rumour has it that he is positively transforming Ogun state. I am not saying this because of the blessing and I stand to be corrected. 

After all the camping, women chasing me - it wasn’t easy, dodging soldiers and general surviving, I made it home. My new greeting has become: Corper-Shun! Any time I have to move around in my NYSC Khakis I am flooded with a million and one greetings to which I have to dutifully reply: Shun! I believe the idea of the programme is beautiful, bringing together Nigerians from across the country to a place they have probably never been to interact and rid themselves of any prejudice. I pray that the spirit of the exercise will continually be fulfilled.

God bless you and God bless Nigeria!

White Foul Brigade by Juwah Awele

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AN EYE INTO ANOTHER WORLD

Chikara by Joshua Zirigbe (9B)

http://jouleconcepts.blogspot.nl/2015/03/art-article-eye-into-another-world.html?m=1

(I am starting my own blog, so I'm bringing along all my articles that I published on a friend's blog)

For some reason, I have always been a fan of the arts - the ability to create something from nothing, the ability to bring to life what was once but only a figment of one’s imagination. I consider the artist to be a gift to man, a gift to constantly remind him that he is possible of anything.

This piece is more of a show than tell, as I am certain that an article on art with more words than works would truly be absurd. To this end, I have had to steal from a classmate, a friend and most of all, a talented artist as I, myself, am not so gifted as to put up my works for display. Still, I shall humour you eventually with my rendition of an infamous 'Looney Toon'.

Now, artistic deftness is not a requirement for appreciating beauty and the plethora of magna opera - many great works - that be. Mr Joshua Zirigbe (9β) is a Naija boy from Warri who has given us the opportunity to see another world through his eyes, let us begin...

Ms Tia and African Sharingan by Joshua Zirigbe (9B)

I should first and foremost warn you that everything you are about to see is real! Drawn by hand and only uploaded digitally that you too may appreciate and perhaps get ‘lust’ in the strokes and curves that have been crafted elegantly to evoke emotions and arouse sensation. By the way, the funny looking eye is titled Chikara - the Japanese word for power.

One of my favourites of Josh’s present collection is his version of the lovely lady Shaun Tia in a modest pose wearing nothing but a dashing birthday suit, don’t judge me, I love that piece. All About The Lines - the piece shows Ms Tia laying on the floor, her right shoulder furtively lifted off of it, revealing an arched back, her right hand half way raised as if calling for another glass, her face looking away into the light as if to hide a beautiful smile and her legs standing on the tip of its toes as if to…I’ll leave that to your imagination.

The fading gentleman that has been juxtaposed to the damsel that puts me in distress is called African Sharingan - a name of Japanese inspiration. I am certain that he will appeal more to the femme in the audience. Unfortunately however, I have to inform you that unlike my Ms Tia, your fading man only exists in 9β’s world and if you look closely, it appears he is trying to slither into the naked lady’s canvass, cross over to her world, our world, the real world.

Le Tour Eiffel by Joshua Zirigbe (9B)

Art to me is also the ability to tell a story, one that can take you places you have never been, a story that can make you see the world in new lights or perhaps even a story that brings back memories of time past. Have you ever been to Paris? Have you ever heard of the love in its air and on its streets? If no then surely you have at least heard of its marvelous landmark.

The Heights, this sunday sketch is of Le Tour Eiffel, the Eiffel tower! Finished in 1889, I have heard that the whole of Paris can be seen if you make it to its peak - it stands more than 300m (1000ft) above ground. What a wonderful place it would be to get down on one knee, pull out that special box with that special ring and ask that special question. The visionary behind this magnificence is Gustave Eiffel, in its early days, the tower which was built for the ’89 world fair was criticised for its blandness and was compared to the Spartan Egyptian pyramids. Now, we think it is sublime art, or could it be because it is famous?

Ms Oreva by Joshua Zirigbe (9B)

The next maleficent piece of art has nothing to do with a wicked witch played by Angelina Jolie nor does it have anything to do with the re-telling of the Snow White fable. What this piece does share with the 2014 blockbuster is a princess being given a close-up. No artist worth his salt goes through a career without doing justice to the portrait of a striking young lady. In Ms Oreva, the quality of detail is superb! Every braid has been etched into existence as though each was plaited by une coiffeuse - a hairstylist. The detail of shade furthermore brings the work to life and she smiles as if to acknowledge the justice that has been done her. A lone butterfly looms somewhat in the distance over what seems to be a rose, adding more grace to the princess' ambience.

Schlum by Joshua Zirigbe (9B)

I should end this piece hoping that the art has struck a chord with your heart and opened your mind like the six open strings of the guitar on the scale of E. But wait! I hope you can dodge the incoming bullet and see the aliens before they get you!

Sniper and Aliens by Joshua Zirigbe (9B)

I always keep my promises and so here is eventually - that’s all folks!

Daffy Duck By Juwah C.A.

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NIGERIA IN DIM TIMES, WHERE IS OUR DARK KNIGHT?

Image by Jegzyd

http://jouleconcepts.blogspot.co.uk/2015/02/nigeria-in-dim-times-where-is-our-dark.html?m=1
(I am starting my own blog, so I'm bringing along all my articles that I published on a friend's blog)

Nigeria has long since descended to a tale of power struggles, organised crimes and absurdities; hooligans walk majestically along our famed corridors of power, cabals with several points in their agenda wait for a chance at a piece of the national cake and a single stretch of road probably less than a hundred metres can be ‘ear’ or ‘eye’ marked for construction, the Lord only knows how many times. From whichever angle you choose to look at things, the situation is worse than grim, it is very dark!

The thought on any critical mind should certainly be the question of how we got to this sinister chapter called 'Fifteen Years of Democracy' or if you prefer 'A Century since Lord Luggard'. I personally prefer the latter because it allows me berate the gentleman who, for the convenience of the Crown, merged people of different ideologies. Notwithstanding, they say marriage is in sickness and in health and for better or for worse, so to us, a long and happy life; long live Nigeria!

Now back to our grim tales, where were we? Ah yes, we were starting from the angle of absurdities. Strange things never seem to lack within our porous boarders, especially the ever exciting political arena. These are the only episodes we catch on the news so what choice do we have but to soak garri and enjoy the drama. The gate scaling gymnastics by our Honourable speaker and his team of athletes is but one of the recent shows, set up for us this time by a grand puppet master in the shadows - we still don’t know who. It was a merry show I dare say, eliciting cheers and applause from the gentlemen with stage side seats, remember? Do you recall the less pleasant purchase and importation of a thirteen year old girl from Egypt by our very own Senator Yerima for marriage, how could such a matter of child abuse have been easily swept under the carpet, how can we as a people condone such?

The recent Presidential power struggle, excuse me, elections have General Muhammadu Buhari (GMB) pitted against Goodluck Ebele Jonathan (GEJ). The battle between the Incumbent-Doctor (PhD) and the Retired-General for the top public seat in the nation is intense; episodes of this scuffle with The Professor, Attahiru Jega, as referee are selling like hot cake or if you prefer hot akara with bread. The show has been rife with mudslinging and defections, captivating and swaying the minds of the insatiable viewers. The situation down in the south, Rivers State, has unfortunately degraded to a rally of bullets at party campaigns, bomb blasts and knife assaults on journalists. Up north, we are not spared the inanity of people, citizens I believe, attacking the presidential convoy; a treasonable offense!

(Image Source)

In the south-west, the nation's commercial capital’s gubernatorial situation is, in my opinion, a mirror of the national battle with the power play interchanged; Lagos sees the defending champion, APC represented by Mr Akinwunmi Ambode being challenged by the PDP multi-time contester Mr Jimi Agbaje; Eko oni baje o! In the  north-east, the nation's thorn-in-the-side, Boko Haram, has been terrorising citizens for more than four years now generating more than a million Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) and even marking out their own caliphate. But fear not! The Nigerian Army has also been in pursuit for these many years and now Chad, Niger, Cameroon and the rest of the African Union have decided that it is time to join the fray. Despite the postponement of the elections and the fear of many both home and abroad that it is a ploy by the ruling party to manipulate outcomes, the game of thrones is still on.

I am sure most of you are familiar with The God Father, the famous novel and film that illuminates the inner workings of organised crime. Without another word, those twelve letters - T h e  G o d  F a t h e r -  are enough to call to mind the nature of atrocities committable by Dons and their henchmen. If only Mario Puzo’s book could tell us the workings in the shadows of our own country, then perhaps, a solution to our plague of crookedness would have been found. Be it Honourable Dimeji Bankole, Governor James Ibori or Honourable Farouk Lawan and their ‘alleged’ crimes or the ordinary Nigerian in an office extorting his fellow Nigerians, corruption or simply put, stealing, has eaten so deep into the moral fibre of our nation that an effective solution is yet to be found. God help us as we help ourselves.

There should come a time, I say ‘should’ because it seems we have not decided that our time has come, when a people stand up and say enough is enough. The recent riots in Mexico for instance, precipitated by the killing of 43 college students, have shown that Mexicans are tired of being bullied by cartels. The protests in Ferguson in the US have shown that the Black community of America will no longer stand for its children being police targets. The recent French rally around the Charlie Hebdo magazine under the standard of "Je Suis Charlie" when ISIS operatives attacked and killed 12 of its cartoonists is another instance of a people standing up together. Are you still sitting down, waiting for a saviour?

I’m sure most of us are looking forward to a six foot tall, broad chested, charming fellow to swoop into the scene with a deep, husky voice, guns blazing to save the day; we are all dreaming of a ‘Dark Knight’ of some sorts who will come to save Nigeria. Wake up, stop deceiving yourself, he is not coming! I often ask myself:

“Why have Nigerians not reacted to their present situation of repression? Is it sheer cowardice or have they simply grown to love the sound of their oppressors’ cracking whip?"

Nigeria is our Gotham, villains and crime abound. It is either we stand up and do something about it, become the Batmen to our city or we let the Jokers and Banes of our own story rule Gotham City.

The Choice is yours!

(Image Source)

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THE FIRE ON 23 ROAD – FESTAC, LAGOS

I am starting my own blog, so I am bringing along all my articles that I published on a friend's blog

Link

(Image Source)

“There is fire in house 2! There were children locked inside the house…” those were the words of my elderly neighbour, Mrs A, returning from the scene of some ongoing tragedy. Immediately, my mother went for all our official documents she always keeps in a ready to go bag while, my father, brother and I set off in the direction of the blaze. On getting to the front of the close, T Close, we observed the residents of the first few houses on the left hastily withdrawing their belongings from their homes; stuffing generators, plasma TVs, gas cylinders and the works into the back seat of their cars. Some had already driven their cars away! Immediately, we realised the fire was coming from the next close on the left, U Close.

We breached the front gates of the rectagularly shaped T close to meet the growing crowd, restless and frantic, no fire fighters in sight. The fire was ravaging the first three 50ft by 25ft duplexes in the close. The bellows of smoke we could only barely see from our house were now in full sight [Time check: 2pm Saturday, February 14th, Valentine’s Day]. Amidst the chaos, there was some semblance of organization. The residents of the houses under siege, with the help of the willing, were salvaging whatever they could to ameliorate the pains they were surely already feeling. Kitchen sets, mattresses, electronics and clothes to say the least were sprawled all over the pedestrian walkway beside the houses.

While cars were nonchalantly passing by on the street in front of U close and onlookers were calling to their gods, some brave young men were busy trying to put an end to the burning. Some of these had direct interests in the outcome of this match of man with fire, others, not even a penny to gain. These young men who had climbed the scaffoldings used to support water tanks were fighting back, hacking at the rooftops, removing potential fuel sources that would add to the strength of the flames and pouring all the water they could get their hands on (there had not been light for more than two straight days, there was not much water available). One person in particular lifted a generator filled with gasoline, hurried on top the edge of a 7ft fence and handed the machine to safety. The young men who had succeeded in breaking through the roof at this time met with the consequence of this action. The raging winds swept in, raising the inferno higher, smoke gushed into the streets of U close and the flames were now clearly visible from blocks away.

If you have never been to Festac Town (Festac for short) or you don’t know about the houses in Festac, then let me get you up to speed so you will appreciate the urgency of the situation. In Festac there are several housing unit models: Type-9, Type-8, Type-7, 16 flat blocks, 32 flat blocks and the self-developed houses. T9 or Type-9 is a stand-alone house covering 75 by 50ft. T8 is a 75 by 25ft semi-detached house, sharing only one wall with another T8. T7, the model of the burning houses is a 50 by 25ft model sharing each side wall with another T7, except the first and last houses of every close.

The grape vine was already filled with rumours of how the fire began, the most common of which was, as repeated in pidgin, “I hear say na gas cause am!” The fire had eaten into the core of the buildings, the intense heat could be felt from more than 30ft away (more than three Honda SUVs bumper to bumper), glass began to spontaneously shatter and cracks began to appear on the walls of the houses. Personal effects were still being hauled away, buckets of water were still being hoisted to the brave boys on the scaffolds and even the people too scared to go closer contributed their quota, pelting the burning building with sachet water, from a safe distance.

Stealing myself away from the snare of the crackling fire, I realised I had parted ways with my father and brother. I should say here that I am older than 20 years and I am the youngest member of my family so, no need to worry. Going into U close itself to get a different angle of the situation, I caught up with my father who said he was just fresh from the Fire Service office in Festac but to his dismay, they were not equipped, they had no fire truck! The personnel at the Fire Service office, however, contacted their sister stations at the Ojo, Surulere and Ikeja local governments.

More than an hour after the battle had begun, the cavalry arrived. To my surprise, but not really so because I could empathise, the people turned against the Firemen, blocking the path of their vehicle and chanting them to go away, “Na now them dey come!? After the houses don burn!” the people raved as they were beginning to mobilize against the Fire Fighters. It took the counter action of people like my father, other rationally reasoning individuals, the few police men present and I to sway the crowd to let the men do their job. It was a Lagos state fire truck that had come from some other local government fire station.

The service men came out of their vehicle kitted, set up their equipment and began to spray the fire with foaming water from their truck, the fight was going to the people. The brave young men popular among which was Mr Onyeka, did not relent; they joined hands with the official fighters receiving pointers and warnings from the crowd. While the battle was going on, another fire truck arrived. [Time check: 4pm Saturday, February 14th, two hours after fire start]. With the help of the second firefighting crew, the match was set. The now large and boisterous crowd was moving back and forth in waves as the wind blew smoke and firefighting foam in their directions. The battle was now finally won but the wordings of what will be the tale of the fire on 23 road was still in its infancy.

Now, time to criticise, allocate blame and proffer solutions. The fire is rumoured to have started from the third house on the line of T7s and there were reportedly three children, all younger than 15, locked inside the house as at the time the fire started. Their mother was said to have locked them inside the house and gone out. Given that there has not been light in the area for more than two days straight (I can testify to that), an electrical fire was easily ruled out. This left to reason that somehow, the children in the third house had started the fire. This can be ruled as negligence of parents leaving their young children locked in the house unsupervised.

Next, it was rumoured that the resident of the second house was met by the brave young men when the fire had just begun and was only in house three, for permission to attempt battling the blaze from said resident’s house. Access was denied. It may be worth mentioning here that the ground floor of house two has been turned to a mini-restaurant. Unfortunately, however, house two was eventually consumed in the fire episode.

Lastly, from the grape vine, it was rumoured that while the fire was still in its early stages, owners of vehicles parked close to the scene rushed over to remove their assets and while doing so, turned deaf ears to pleas to assist with fire extinguishers present in their vehicles.

This is the narrative as viewed through my glasses, facts as seen with my eyes, laced with fresh rumour-wine from the grape vine. I believe this situation could have been prevented if only young children were not left unattended in the first place. I believe the fire would not have destroyed so much if Festac had its own fire truck. I believe a few more caring Nigerians than just the brave young men and even the water pelters would have made a difference.

What is your opinion, what do you believe?



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