Thursday 28 July 2016

ELECTROCUTION

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Bonjour Messieurs et Dames


YES my poem has begun


Today I will be taking you,


Through a COURSE of electrocution




We will begin with air not Heir


For tis about sound, not spelling


Next will be an hour in the ‘ouse of ‘orror,


For all the Honorables fallen in battle




Ask your questions please, never AXE


For the cup of this decades bloodshed is full


Lest we shed more Tears from our eyes,


Not the type o’ Tears to be mend with a stitch




Don’t be bothered by the preyure, No


It’s still only English, no pro’lem


Better yet ask Fareed Zakaria,


Indian Accent, CNN, No need for GPS




26 Letters, 44 Sounds


Why wont my people say Shursh not Church


Who on earth would’a should’a could’a known,


That Fresident of the Federal ReFuvlic sounds with a ‘P’.




But Ten minutes I can guarantee


On BBC or be it SKY


Will cure SCHWA or any maledictions,


No more need for phóné-tic sounds




Fricatives are sure to cause Friction


Just as elocution is sure to be electric


But meaning the ability to transmit


Makes it all the real Electrocution
#H33Revary
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Inspired by The Lagos Finishing School's ELOCUTION COURSE while in a Big4!



Friday 22 July 2016

FIRE BURN DEM!

I was eager to be off, two annoying hours on a queue just to enter a miserable bus to that bleak town. Then it finally got to my turn, I paid for my ticket and entered the miserable bus. I settled down hoping no ‘Overly Plump Person’ would worsen my day by sitting next to me – nobody likes to be squeezed like sardines in an already uncomfortable bus (I don’t hate O.P.Ps). So the thing is, I was heading back to campus in that bleak town and after years of riding with Miserable Motors, I had given up hope of any fine girl ever sitting next to me in the bus; my luck no dey reach there, I just focus on hoping for a comfortable ride. [Back to today’s Bus] So you can imagine my relief when a smallish woman occupied the seat next to mine, I said a silent thank you and then plugged in my earphones and closed my eyes.

“IN THE NAME OF JESUS!!!” I was jolted awake by the sound of a strong voice and surprise, surprise, the owner of the voice was the petite woman next to me. I was emotionless! but feeling guilty about not praying before the journey, I unplugged my earphones and sat listening, offering my voice minimally to the intense prayer every now and again with a humble A-men.

"HOLY GHOOOST FIRE!!!", "FIRE!!!!!!"

"Any-BODY dat doesn't want this journey to be SUCCESSFUL, be it ONE person on dis bus, or A GROUP OF DEM…”

"…Oku Mmuo Nso KPOO HA OKU!!!!!!"

*Translation*

"HOLY GHOOOOOOST FIRE!!!!!!"

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She went on for a long time, vehemently cursing between enemies; seen&unseen, and evil family&friends; known and unknown. I often find these public fire for fire sessions somewhat comic and so I quickly did a once over at everyone on the bus to see if anyone else was slightly amused but no, they all appeared to be deep in prayer; casting&binding anyone and anything hindering their progress in any way, shape or form, with intermittent breaths of, "Fire!"
Such was the intensity of spiritual fervour in the bus that I had to entertain for an instant, the thought that I might have been a hindrance to the safety of the vehicle and its passengers due to my unenthusiastic participation; much like the proverbial Jonah, I could have been a potential source of bad luck. But then I really started to think about it all, mind you, my thoughts are not attempts at trying to sound clever. I wondered, if all our prayers were answered; how many people would spontaneously combust or fall dead? I wondered, if God decided to humour Himself; would we all fall down and die – as fellow architects of our own misfortunes; our own enemies of progress and/or our own stumbling blocks?

It is widely believed that God intended us all to be prosperous and wealthy and that when this is not so, someone or something is preventing us from fulfilling that destiny. While this may be true, the danger with this school of thought is that people, instead of looking inwards for the more uncomfortable possibility that they are not doing something right rather peruse perceived external forces holding their progress at bay.  No one is left out of the loop; not even father or sister – but bad bele really dey sha.

We all like a good grass to grace story, no problem there but the Nigerian factor here is that we don't want the run of the mill grass to grace cliché; it has to be spectacular, it has to be spiritual! Malefactors lurking in dark corners tirelessly working against our success in realms beyond the physical must be defeated after all. 

Take the case of a neighbour's toddler climbing a gate. After a friend warns her that her baby could fall, the mother’s immediate response is "My baby will not fall in JESUS NAME!" In this case, the toddler who knows no better obviously is oblivious to the danger he is in, his responsibility is in your hands. Therefore if that child were to fall, there is no one to blame but the mother for whatever injuries the child may sustain.

The truth is that no one likes to take the blame, but more oft than not, that face staring back at you in the mirror is as much your stumbling block as anyone or anything else. So stop raining down black flame and accept your BLAME!


Next 

Sunday 3 July 2016

GUNS “R” US

“Guns don’t kill people, people do”
- The National Rifle Association 
  (NRA), USA                      


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I heard my grandfather once went into ‘the bush’ to see our village lands; I heard on arrival he was chased by some unscrupulous men with silver machetes and black guns – they were illegally selling our village lands to other unscrupulous men. God bless the old man, he was still agile enough at 85 to outrun younger men in their prime, men in their 40s. Papa has, however, passed away now; it was his time, no bullets were involved.

My grandfather’s name was Young and Grandpa Young also had a gun. It wasn’t anything too fancy, just a typical side-by-side, double-barreled shotgun with Anson & Deeley boxlock action, he polished it regularly and used it to announce the New Year; every year. Papa loved his gun, it was more of what my buddies in India would call a Lunali. Mr. Young never shot nobody.

I hear today of people who actually shoot other people and I don’t mean the usual police&thief; I hear herdsmen now carry guns! I know right, herdsmen, guns?! If I remember correctly, and I do, cattle-men used to roll with the shepherd’s staff and not Kalashnikovs, when did they make the switch from wood to iron, who was their arms dealer and who is behind the upgrade? I am honestly curious. I hear the guns are for ‘protecting’ their cattle and my question is, from who, peasant farmers!? If yes then perhaps we need to more publicly promote guns and hasten the proliferation of small arms and lights weapons (aka SALW) so that even the farmers can protect themselves from aggressive grass – naah, the cattle-gunmen need a better excuse.

Guns may be cheap; as low as $300, but bullets are darn expensive; a pack can cost $500, so my next question is, who keeps restocking ammo for these guys? Who the heck deals bullets for cattle-men?! We need to trace the source of the funds, the guns and the bullets. I am certain that there is no charity openly giving out weapons for free. Now, the slaughter currently only appears to be one sided and as such, people are yet to consider the possibility of another industrious arms-dealer marketing modern metal to farmers, who at this point may be willing to trade dull machetes for sharp bullets. If the famers trade by this barter, then the blood bath is only just beginning – hasta la vista buen senor.

People tend to blame religion for a lot of the bloodshed going on today but the truth is that human beings have always been blood thirsty, even before we started worshipping there were wars and pogroms, ketchup was spilled all across the earth but we ought to have become more civilized by now. I understand that there might still be an itch to let loose and spill more ketchup, even I myself am not free from this itch – let me explain. I recently passed out but had no idea that my hand was still wide awake. By the time I came through my trigger finger had gone to work, there were no survivors! It appeared I had slept over my ‘Chicago Typewriter’ with my killer finger on delete, needless to say, all I could do was weep. Google Chicago Typewriter, pun intended.

“Guns don’t kill people, people do”
- NRA


“Yea but an Uzi clip and some AK-47s sure make it easier”
- HRevary


My mind was roaming round this whole militarized nomad situation and the clashes with local farmers when something hit me – I actually physically got assaulted by a brick. Why is it that the clashes between Fulani herdsmen and farmers seem to have escalated in the recent past? What, beyond the proliferation of SALW, could be the cause of the increase in physical disagreements? What is the underlying problem? That brick really did hit my head hard because it knocked a thought in: Could it be global warming?

One of the purported effects of global warming on this side of the world has been irregular rainfall. This has led to increased desertification and less vegetation in places deeper inland, places like Northern Nigeria. This could possibly explain why herdsmen seem to be migrating further south in search of greener pastures for their pets and why they and their pets have been running into more farmers. This is just a thought knocked in by a bullet, sorry, I mean brick.


Let me also use this opportunity to state that the current ‘Grazing Bill’ at the Nigerian National Assembly is, in my opinion, antithetical to our development. Firstly, nomadic shepherding is far behind the times in which we live, ranching and other variations are the preferable method of growing today’s meat. Furthermore, if a system of ranching were promoted instead of encouraging wild men and animals to be doing wakajugbe upandan, several other value chains would organically grow alongside the meat chain. The need for animal feed for instance would skyrocket; silage, soilage and what not, industries would bloom. Again, I am not a proponent of the ‘Grass Bill’ that seeks to carve out land that belongs to one people and give it to another people for free to run a private business. Cow meat no free for market o!


Well, all being said and done, welcome to my shop, Guns “R” Us, I am certain we have just what you’re looking for – even the black market stuff. We have PKMs, M1911s, MP5s, FALs, G3s, AR15s, RPG-7s and even Revolvers for the kids...


 “No more Mr nice guy! *kpa, kpa*”
- The Kid With The Gun


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Welcome to the Wild Wild West bi@₸₵ђ€$!

The End.

Disclaimer: This piece has nothing to do with a popular toys store.