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Episode 9 I was still deep in my fantasy when Vikkie interrupted. It was a short distance to the girls hostel, and my little doll did hand my clothes over. "Ewatomi will you come to class in the afternoon?" I asked unconfidently in a low pitch. "Yes. But not before 1 o'clock." She answered. I bade the two beauties goodbye and walked to the boys hostel. There were no such busy days as Saturdays in Fopefolu Memorial High School. The first event after the stream thing was laying and inspection of bed, after which would be breakfast; usually Palp and Akara (beans cake). Not many girls would show up in the refectory, so, there would be more food for the boys to take care of. I only enjoyed Saturday breakfast when the bean cake is still hot, but that morning the food was no longer warm a bit. I could only take two Akara without the Palp, and so set out for a journey back to the dormitory. On my way, one of the matrons called and spoke with me. "A..kin, you did not eat again. You are a boy and need much more food to grow strong and healthy." "I've eaten ma." I replied. "I know you've eaten your biscuits and millo.'Bisikiti melo lo maa yo e'(what amount of biscuits would satisfy you)?" "No ma." I responded smilling. "I just took my Akara." "Anyways, there are still some in the kitchen, do you care for more?" "Rara ma (no ma), I'm OK." "Pele, Omo Oyinbo (take care, foreign breed)." "Thank you ma." I finished, and walked to the dormitory. In the hostel, I made for my bed and laid on my back. It was a silent room, and in another few minutes I was gone thinking. It was more of what I would tell Ewatomi in class that afternoon, but, the boys soon interrupted. I heard them return with their usual deafening noise. Jide's voice was especially audible and with him were Tolu, Vincent and some junior students. They had been discussing 'The Room,' a popular Hollywood movie of the time. I was not interested in the discus, which soon turned to an argument, but on 'Lord of the rings'. "Lord of the rings...I so much love Isildur, son of the king of Gondor, he was the man of the movie." Jide said. "I bet you didn't see the movie. What would you call Sauron, what would you call Gandalf?" Tolu countered. Then Jide responded. "How many American movies have you seen in your entire life?" "You guys have started again." Vincent interrupted. "Where was your Dad's fat belly when I saw Ocean's eleven, Harry potter and the Sorcerer’s stone, Spirited away, The Fast and The furious, and Companied?" Tolu carpeted Jide, and the boys laughed. "Companied was an Indian movie." I joined. "You had better go meet your Juliet, Mr. Romeo." Tolu talked back at me, to everyone's amusement. Few minutes into the buzz, the sound of football was heard outside and we all went out to play. Jide suggested that we formed our own team against the two we met on ground and we did, with some other students. We played what we called 'set.' i.e. after a goal is scored from a team, it would be substituted by another. Senior Collins’ team had defeated the second before it was our turn, so, it was a challenging and interesting contest. I took the game so seriously and had dribbled three players of the opponent out of the way. At the goal post, I was, about to shoot the net when I fell down groaning in pain. Senior Collins almost broke my right leg and it looked more like a deliberate attack. I got up, and returned to the hostel while the match ended in a fight which broke out when some SSS3 boys, who witnessed Collins' wickedness threw up at the cute senior. I still had two very interesting activities fixed for the day, first; I had to meet Ewatomi in class by 1pm, second; the drama rehearsal would come up by 5pm. The time was 12:45pm, I rushed to the bathroom, took my bath and returned to adorn myself. In the mirror, I smiled to a cute image in the school house wear; a well ironed brown trousers and a diced brown and white shirt. 1pm already, I walked through the field pedestal to the refectory's walkway and eventually found myself in SSS2 science classroom, where I settled expecting Ewatomi's arrival. I sat in the class nervous. It was some 30 minutes gone, yet, Ewatomi didn't show up, so I decided to keep my nervous self busy with Twelfth Night, a Shakespearean novel I've been reading for quite a while. It centers on Orsino; the Duke and Olivia; the Countess, but few lines into the novel, Ewatomi appeared. |
queenbetsy:U stepping outta boundary now. |
Pinkfeet:U welcome to my High School |
queenbetsy:Do u mind me getting u some popcorn? |
Episode 8 "Akin." Jide called. "Why are you sitting all alone?" He continued, moving towards my direction. "Are you sick?" "Not at all." I answered. "Or you have missed home?" "Who doesn't?" I responded smiling. He was done with his lavabo, so we started discussing our usual nothings. "Didn’t you come with clothes?" "I did. But I have them with Vikkie." "You now have two wives." With that, a part of me was happy, but then I felt like what he just said could have been responsible for the strange behaviour of the boys to me lately. "Ewatomi is not my girlfriend o." I responded. "But, she loved to love you yesterday." "That might just be for the game." "Stop deceiving yourself. She actually…" He was still talking when one of the house masters interrupted. "Since you seem all done, shall we go back to school?" Jide left to get his things, but I was hesitant to go meet Vikkie and ask for my clothes since she was with my crush. I carried my empty bag and bucket of water, and was taking dreamy steps back to school when my daughter tapped me in the back. "So, you didn't even plan to wait for me?" "I'm sorry." I replied, trying to avoid eyes contact with Ewatomi who walked right beside her. "Akin, how are you doing?" Ewatomi greeted with a bucket full of clothes on her head and another, full of water in her right hand "I'm fine." I replied. On our way back to School, they discussed, with some other girls, events of the girls hostel while I followed them dummied up; but in my mind a lot of things went on. The girl who walked in front of me was perfectly built with moderate buttocks and a slim body. So, with my eyes fixed on Ewatomi's rear picture, I thought of a number of things: "Has she fallen in love with me? Yes, she must have. If not, would she have called me out yesterday? But, what if she did that just to save my face? No, she seems to love me already. She's even closer to my school daughter now. That's how ladies behave. She's only shy to come out straight. But, I need her tell me she loves me today. Well, I think I'm a lucky boy. What would it feel like to kiss her thin lips? Do I even know how to kiss? I must not Bleep up as that would be so bad (smiles). Her buttocks are really nice and moderate. Would we have sex? I can' just have sex with this raw beauty in a classroom. But, I heard senior Collins does that with girls. I can't even have sex with my Ewatomi now. We would get married and have sex, the first time, on our wedding night. What if she asks for it one day? Then, I'll do it just once. I’ve never even had sex my whole life. Ewatomi is still a virgin and I need help her keep it, she would give it to me at the right time after all. How I really love the girl! But, what if she's not as innocent as her looks suggest? That's not even possible. Anything can happen actually, but I trust Ewatomi. Would we read together? No...." I gazed at her spotless legs then her hair, and left a deep sigh. "What if she falls sick one day?" I continued. “I’ll bring her to my side in Prep class and rest her head on my laps to make her sleep. But, that's after she must have taken her drugs. Yes. What if SSS3 boys become jealous? Let them do their worst. Can't I die for a girl I love, like Jack in the Titanic? Nothing could be too much for Ewatomi. I will also sing for her on her birthday. If only I would be allowed to bring my board guitar to school, I would sing and... " At the school entrance, just by the widely opened gate, Ewatomi nearly fell over a crumpled piece of block. My heart skipped and I was quick to say Sorry. "Thanks so much" she replied. "What an innocent girl! Even on our wedding night, I'll make sure she does not cry. I'll make the sex so soft. No, every lady cries the first time. Ok, I will just kiss the tears off her eyes. Not even the devil can be uncaring to this angel..." |
It was a pool party with naked girls. And they were there. Men who have achieved. Money, power and fame. Men in their prime who tell time to hold still since they have refused to age and it grudgingly obeys in detente and in temporaneous. They dress young, they dance young, they act young. They are current on all fronts. Most of them married with children but mentally and emotionally single. At this party they threw in a high brow residence in an exclusive neighbourhood in Ikoyi there was an abundance of food, drinks, drugs and real youth. The youth came exclusively from the girls that were in attendance. Girls in their late teens and early twenties. Well spoken and extensively travelled. Daughters of the materially blessed. Read this to help your children now. Their safety is your choice.All of them students. All of them naked. Some were in the swimming pool, some at the bar, some danced under the cabana, others were hobnobing with the swimming trunks clad men at various places in the specially lit pool area that stood under the starry night sky. And I sat with one of them. She was caramel smooth, finely contoured, delicately featured and doe like. She was twenty going on twenty one. And a sophomore at Babcock university. To every question I asked, she took a drag from the reefer in her hand, blow out the smoke through her mouth and nostrils, took a sip from her glass of Hennessey and coke on ice before she responded. Her voice was sweet. And her smile was rapturous. "I heard students need permission to leave your school. How could you get out this late and stay overnight?" "We have our ways." "We?" "Yeah all of us." "From Babcock?" "Not all. Some from Covenant, Redeemers, Madonna, ABUAD, Pan African and stuff." "No unilag or UI?" "They ain't boujee." "Boujee?" "Yeah. They are crass. Men like you guys don't want to roll with local cats like those right?" I looked at her silently as she took a drag from her reef. The aroma assailed it. It was caustic yet not aggravating. "What's that?" "Comorado." "What's that?" She laughed. "It's good stuff. Hits you slowly and then makes you soar like superman." I looked around and saw the girls doing one thing or another in their nudity. She was staring at me. "Is this your first party?" I nodded. "No wonder you are asking all these hang questions." "Why do you do this?" "I'm young. I need to live life before it becomes too serious and I have to be all grown up." "But why the drugs?" "Because." "Because what?" "Because this is how we roll. Everyone has their poison. If you are not on reef, you do codeine or cocaine or heroin or speed or AZT or ecstasy or royfenol or fentanyl or meth or oxy or worst case you inhale glue and get your high." I stared at her as she inhaled and exhaled languidly. "Why the parties?" "You get your hit for free here. You have fun. You make good money." "But for you to attend those schools you must be rich." "My parents are not me." "But they give you money." "They pay the tuition and all. Not like they can give me a million in cash." "Do you get a million here?" "Well two or three parties can make me that." "Aren't you afraid of running into your Dad at places like this?" "Naaaa... my dad is too square and busy but even if he is not then it is his problem after all he came here for what I came here for so he can't tell me nothing." I fell silent and watched her inhale and exhale smoke. "But you know, your folks put you in schools like that to protect you?" "Too protect me?" "Yes." "They are too busy to even bother." "No they are not." "Yes they are. They think the school will be both my teachers and my parents." "I think they are just worried about you getting corrupted." "I was balling like this under their nose and they didn't even notice. Funny thing is that even the innocent Jane get influenced in school, so what was the use of all the headache of keeping us locked up in all these secondary schools that front as universities." "They did it out of love and with the belief that those schools are way better than the public ones." "Well they bleeped up." "bleeped up?" "Is this an interview or what?" "No I am just intrigued." "And I am Hot." I fell silent. She dragged, exhaled, took a drink from her glass, sucked on one of the ice cubes in her mouth and asked in a whisper. "Are you going to do anything about it?" ----------------------------- The best time to do core parenting is between ages 0-12. You simply cannot afford to be too busy at this stage. Schools, nannies, extra murals cannot replace core parenting at this point. If you are absent in your child's life at this stage, be sure someone else is shaping your child's worldview . At 12 a child's curiosities are set. And they spend their teenage years exploring those curiosities and fantasies and experimenting with their identities. If you attempt core parenting in teenage years, you will meet a brick wall and you might end up with a fractious relationship with your teen. Your best mode as a parent of a teenager is to "befriend" them. At this stage you can't take anything for granted you will have to earn their trust. Seek to influence them not control at this point. They will resist control but will respond wonderfully to influence: yours or the streets. Every Nigerian parents needs to read this. So share it and continue sharing it. Its very important. Quote me anywhere. #copied! |
Episode 7 "Whoa!" Vikkie exclaimed. It actually came with a shock. Akin? My Name? ‘... [Monica] - You can't destroy this love I've found Your silly games I won't allow The boy is mine without a doubt You might as well throw in the towel [Brandy] - What makes you think that he wants you, When I'm the one that brought him to The special place that's in my heart, He was my love right from the start...' "Which of the two?" The MC asked. It was then that I remembered there was one senior boy with the same first name as mine. "Akinwunmi Peters." She responded. It was my name! My lids turned red again as it was an honour too much for a boy who had just been slapped. Teardrops struggled to leave my eyes: but why? After all, Ewatomi was about to save my face. I walked gently to the front with my hands in pockets. Ewatomi drew me closer for a peck, hugged me, and rested her head on my shoulder amidst cheers. We both left the stage, and few steps to my seat, I caught Vikkie's gaze. She gave a thumbs-up I returned with just a bright smile. We all got out of bed late on Saturday, on the grounds that the social night came to a screeching halt around 2am after so many boogies down, jitterbugs and rocks n' rolls. It was the norm in my school that students be led to a close-by stream every Saturday morning for laundry. By 10am, two housemasters were set to escort the troupe. I packed my school uniforms, house and church wears into my school bag and joined others. "Let's move guys." One of the house masters ordered. We advanced, everyone with his/her bag of dirts. Few steps into the journey, the other house master decided to create some fun and so introduced a song we sang as we jugged on. 'Everybody Jankara Market' 'Jankara' 'Where are you going?' 'Jankara' 'We are going to wash' 'Jankara' 'Everybody Jankara Market' 'Jankara.' The first time I was at the stream, I wondered why my school in all her glory could not put a good water source in place within the school compound. But, I then learnt it was due to the up-hill location and that the management had made several attempts all of which was a wild goose chase. Well-nigh washing my clothes I was, when Vikkie came around and took them away. “I’ll help you. I trust you don’t know how to wash” She said and left, only to look back at me over her shoulder some steps away. She sent a teasing smile I returned. Not having clothes to bathe, I decided to chat with some of my classmates, who were washing at a distance. "Guys, what's up?" I made for them but they hardly responded. They treated me with the same contempt I had already got a load of from my seniors in the morning, and I was hit. "What could I have done wrong?" I brainstormed, a bit confused. Only Vikkie could have had answers to my questions, but there she was, washing close to and chatting with Ewatomi. My crush had stolen my daughter and I was shy to glide near them. |
queenitee:U wlcm to Fopefolu Memorial High School. |
Episode 6 Akin? That was me. I walked to the front confidently, alive to my superior beauty. "If not the hug it'll definitely be the peck." I brainstormed standing between the other two guys. A slap in that size of it used to be so humiliating in Fopefolu Memorial High School, to say the least. It wasn't something of a joke. Vivian drew Jide, my best friend, closer for a hug and pecked senior Collins. It then dawned on me that I was to be the victim. I didn't have enough time to comprehend what was about to happen before the smack. My eye darkened and I felt so much abused. It was very light, but the slap of my life. I held tears back and gently walked back to my sit, but the hall felt unfamiliar. Everyone was taking on me, or so I felt. I heard people laughed, Senior Collins' voice was especially audible. Not many guys seemed to like me from the start, those who had always disdained the hottie their babes crushed on were now having the best of fun and I was down casted and crushed. Few steps to my sit, I looked my daughter in the eyes, she really did feel my pain. My clutches couldn't hold it no more, teardrops found a way to my face, then rolled freely down my cheeks. I needed a cry and so stepped out. I sat alone in a scarcely illuminated classroom, hiding my shamed face. There I felt a bit relieved in the dark, outside the dreadful fun, and the tears in my eyes were drying up. "How did I get here?" I thought. "Dad, why did you do this to me?" "So you are here. I've looked around for you." Vikkie exclaimed and I felt her cozy palms wipe my tears. "Akin, be a man. You can't just sit here. It was just a game." She soothed. Of a truth, I'd never met a girl as caring as Victoria. She behaved more maturely than a fourteen years old. "I love you if no-one else does." She concluded, then dragged me out of the class. I entered back the pronto hellish hall suspicious of every laughter and buzz. "Vikkie, everyone is making fun of me." "Just let it go." She responded rubbing my left palm. The atmosphere remained captivating. Devil's Mail Bag was fun, but I wanted its end so much; who knows if my bed would save me some more hurts and pains. Senior Bisola, the health prefect girl was later caught with the cassette and some others after. My breath almost stopped when Ewatomi obliged the MC's summon and walked shyly to the front. She had been caught too, and I looked so nervously at her gentle walk to the stage. "I love to love you. Call him out, peck him, hug him and rest your head on his shoulder." The MC read. The barn was a grave yard. Everyone wanted to know the boy our school prettiest had a crush on. The song changed to The Boy is Mine. '[Brandy] Excuse me, can I please talk to you for a minute [Monica] uh huh, sure, you know you look kinda familiar [Brandy] Yeah, you do too but, umm, I just wanted to know do you know Somebody named you, You know his name. [Monica] Oh, yeah definitely I know his name. [Brandy] I just wanted to let you know he's mine...' "You are free to tell us no one and pay the fine." The MC briefed Ewatomi who seemed taking a whole lot of time. I wished she would say no-one, I preferred that to seeing her call some guy. Was I possessive already? I guess yes. "Ewatomi, may I have the money?" The MC requested. "Akin." Her voice reverberated. |
Episode 5 Fridays were always alluring in Fopefolu Memorial High school. By 3pm, the school compound would be alive to different unasked activities. There would be no prep, and after dinner, students would bring out chairs and ensconce in groups. Whilst junior girls burst into different songs, clapping and running around; senior ones would hang here and there talking. Sometimes, guys would sit at one fell swoop discussing movies, trends, latest songs and girls. That particular Friday was another story, halogen bulbs flickered, lighting up the compound like it was afternoon. Girls were primped in beautiful paraphernalia, and guys were not left out, I stunned in a costly blue striped V-neck shirt, fleece-lined gear Jeans and a pair of smart, high top, lace up sneakers my mum bought the previous Christmas holiday. Jide and many other exotic guys were also rash in showing their dressing genre that once a month. It was our social night after all, it was the last Friday of the month: my maiden social night in Fopefolu Memorial High School. The Lyrics of 'Cha Cha Slide' escaping the auditorium already gave me the come- on but I wanted a glimpse of Ewatomi and so remained outside. "If she was that pretty in school wears, what would she look like tonight?" 'To the left, take it back now ya'll 1 hop this time, right foot let's stomp Left foot let's stomp, Cha Cha real smooth Turn it down, to the left Take it back now ya'll 1 hop this time, right foot let's stomp Left foot let's stomp, Cha Cha now ya'll...' I sang alone with the music, before some random senior guys joined. 'Now it's time to get funky To the right now, to the left Take it back now ya'll 1 hop this time, 1 hop this time Right foot 2 stomps, left foot 2 stomps Slide to the left, slide to the right Criscross, criscross Cha Cha real smooth Let's go to work To the left, take it back now ya'll...' We sang on, before Vikkie interrupted. "Akin." She called. "You look really good." "You aren’t looking bad either." I replied. "Fine girl!" One of the random guys told another. It was Ewatomi on her way to the auditorium. She was really appealing and classy in her army pant and grey striped turtleneck sweater, but I was still trying hard to get the hang of her timberland lace up boot, when naughty Vikkie suddenly snapped my right hand and dragged me en route the already stirring auditorium. She made me sit beside her very close to the back door, then started a conversation. "Can you dance?" She asked. "Don't I look it?" "Then, you'll dance with me tonight." Ewatomi horned so gorgeously into the auditorium, and to the admiration of many. I was long gone with her sexy nice steps when Vikkie again interrupted. "You asked her out already, aren't you convinced she'll give in?" Junior boys and girls danced and I was really snowed. They moved their bodies with ease to the rhythm of 'Rock Your Body' musical. They were really prima ballerinas. Ewatomi's seat was a distance in front of mine, so, it was easy to look at her all night. The music changed to 'Hey Baby' and the girls moved their bodies facetiously, clapped and sang along. 'I’m the kinda girl that hangs with the guys Like a fly on the wall with my secret eyes Takin it in, try to be feminine With my makeup bag watchin all the sin Misfit, I sit Lit up, wicked Everybody else surrounded by the girls With the tank tops and the flirty words I’m just sippin on chamomile Watching boys and girls and their sex appeal With a stranger in the face who says he knows my mom And went to my high school...' When the song got to the chorus, the boys took the lead. 'All the boys say, Hey Baby, Hey Baby, Hey' Then, the girls returned. 'Girls Say, Girls Say, Hey Baby, Hey Baby, Hey Hey Baby Baby Hey Baby, Hey Baby, Hey' And the Boys too. 'Boys Say, Boys Say Hey Baby, Hey Baby, Hey All the boys get the girls in the back...' I sang facing Vikkie like in a conversation. It was really fun and I couldn't be happier. "Now it's time for the Devil's Mail Bag." Our house master turned Mc announced. Everyone enjoyed a mixture of happiness and anxiety, and all eyes was fixed to the stage. The floors of the large auditorium was slopped, with a level terracing for each row of fixed seats; and that allowed proper sightlines to the stage from my seat. That particular aspect of the programme had always been the most looked-out-for. In Devil’s Mail Bag, a cassette would hie around while music is on, and when it cools, anyone with the disc would be called out. He/She would then pick one of the prepared piece from the basket and do whatever is written in there. "We start now." The MC continued. Enrique Iglesias' Hero played in the background. 'Would you dance if I asked you to dance? Would you run and never look back? Would you cry if you saw me crying? Would you save my soul tonight? Would you tremble if I touched your lips? Would you laugh? Oh, please tell me this...' The music cooled it, and Vivian; an obsessive SSS2 science girl was caught. "Call three boys, hug one, peck one and slap one." The MC read. "Senior Collins, Akin and Jide." Vivian called. |
Episode 4 Outside, waiting for Jide; I saw Ewatomi. I watched her walk to the dormitory. She really fitted every description of beauty. Her figure was nice, her eyes were sparkling and the height moderate. A girl's beauty had never dazzled me that much, hers actually bowled me over. But, from that night, she refused to fall victim to my eyes for weeks. I became more attracted to Ewatomi's intellectual brilliance by the day. In class, we would compete to answer questions. Meanwhile, my bond grew with Vikkie in an almost romantic friendship. She would come to my desk during break time to chat me up, sometimes with snacks. Vikkie was such an intelligent windbag, and our bizarre bond almost prevented my getting along with a number of my classmates. She made SSS2 girls envious, and many of them would not talk to me for preferring a junior. Vikkie also knew I fancied Ewatomi's divinity. She would advise that I walked up to her, but I was not very courageous. "I will, when it's time." I always convinced my daughter. But, deep inside; I feared what Ewatomi's reaction would be. She looked too serious to entertain romance. In Cambridge, I had seen girls like that, who would only report you to the authority, if you dare mention love to them. Ewatomi was quite difficult to predict, and, I didn't want my ego bruised. "What if she insults me?" What if she tells her friends?" I dreaded a replay of Olumide's fate. He was my classmate back in Cambridge. He so much liked one JSS3 Lilian, and confided in us, his friends. We advised him to write her a love letter, which he did, only to hear the note read on the assembly the next morning. Olumide was given six strokes in the public glare and the principal even went ahead to get his parents informed. The event was an embarrassment to all of us, SSS1 boys. I loved Ewatomi but the risks were too many. First; I was a new student that girls and teachers admired differently, so was scared of losing the goodwill in a matter of weeks. But, one day, after school hours, Vikkie sent for me. "Senior Victoria said you should meet her in class." Tomiwa, a JSS2 rugged student delivered. Tomiwa was actually rugged, the dirtiest boy I had ever seen. He would neither wash his clothes nor take his bath for fear of cold. He was just too unkempt, but brilliant. On getting to class, my daughter hinted me Ewatomi was in the next class. "Your crush is reading all alone in the next class. An opportunity, or what do you think of it? "Is that why you called me?" I responded with a pounding heart. "Just go. Go meet her now." Said the smiling Vikkie. This was a girl I've boasted to, that there was no lady I couldn't approach. She was beginning to sense my weakness, and I decided to prove my much talked about strength. "Where is she?" I asked, nervous. "The next class." She replied smiling again. In SSS1 classroom, I met Ewatomi. She was busy reading a novel. I greeted her "Good afternoon" like I was only passing by. "Good Afternoon." She replied with her eyes glued to 'Julius Caesar.' Almost out of the class through the exit, I finally gathered the courage to say a word. "Can I talk to you please?" "Why not?" She replied, raising her brows slightly. I moved closer to her desk and continued. "I just want to...to...ask if you've done your English assignment." "I haven't, but will do it in class tonight." She answered in a flash. "Alright. Ewatomi...I just want to tell you something." I returned, with my breath in my mouth. "I'm all ears." "I'm sorry, but I seem to love you." I said. Ewatomi didn't say a word, but packed her books and left me right there in the class. I was going crazy. "She hated what I said? She would tell her friends?" I wish I could reverse the time to when I've not opened up. "Won't you tell me what she said?" Vikkie requested. She had entered the classroom and I did not even notice. "She left without saying nothing. I'm afraid." I explained, sweating. "That was a Yes." She responded. "Are you sure?" I asked, feeling a bit relieved. "After all, she knows her more than I do," I thought. "But, could that really be a yes?" I was still thinking when the bell rang for dinner. "We'll talk more in the night class." Vikkie said, and left for the dining hall, leaving me all to myself. I later left for the refectory too, but couldn't eat. I trusted Vikkie's Judgement to an extent, but it wasn't enough to take away my fears completely, and to worsen matters, Ewatomi did not show up for dinner. "Could my few words have shattered her appetite? Didn't I say it well? Will she report me to the authority? Will she embarrass me? Is that really her way of saying yes?" I brainstormed, while others enjoyed their sumptuous meal. |
Episode 3 Not many teachers came to teach us after Mr. V's English. It was the first day of a new term and not all was set. I remained on my sit, taking in the sights some students toying and trifling around. In our class, the girls sat in groups, prattling and discussing. I could overhear them sometimes talked about me. One of them said: "He's fine." and another,” Is he more handsome than senior Collins?" "Well...I don't know," the first girl answered. I wasn’t surprised though, Cambridge High School girls would do just that, on the arrival of a new boy. Senior Collins, I later learnt was the school health prefect boy. He had been acclaimed the most handsome in Fopefolu Memorial High School, and was really enjoying the best of times as girls would throw themselves around him. He had been the reason SSS3 girls would make the girls hostel a hell for the junior students they perceived as rivals. All SSS2 science girls were almost all pretty, but none of them was anything close to the lady I saw in the English class. I got to know her name, when a junior student entered and called. "Senior Ewatomi," before finding her way to her place. "Indeed!" I breathed. "She's her name." The class was saturated with talks, everyone was either ranting or gossiping, save Ewatomi who sat quietly with a novel. I tried to blink her ideal look secretly again, but fate had our eyes locked a couple of times. "She seems to like me!" After the final bell, we all left for the hostels. I had earlier dropped my luggage in the boy’s hostel, so I moved to block A, where I was allotted to. The boys hostel was divided into three blocks, each having ten rooms which were quite large, with five bonks. I laid my bed, on top of a junior student's, and climbed the bunk to observe a compulsory siesta; after which a familiar boy approached. He was an SSS2 science student too. "Good evening," he said. “I’m Jide." "I'm Akinwunmi." Jide was really fun to be with, so we clicked that evening and became very close and found of each other. He opened my eyes to many things about Fopefolu Memorial High School. We talked about Teachers, seniors, and girls; especially SSS2 Science girls. Jide never really talked about Ewatomi to my hunger, save her brilliance, he talked about almost every other girl classmates of ours. I was anxious to know things about the doll of a girl, but my new friend, in a way, could not provide answers to my many questions on Ewatomi. We were busy with our conversations anyway, but the bell soon rang for dinner. Jide then advised that I carried my lantern and books, so we would move easily from the dining hall to class for prep (night reading). It was Amala and vegetable that evening, and in the refectory, I looked around for Ewatomi. I wanted to catch a glimpse again, but she wasn't in the hall. The refectory was a bit darkened rectangular space with stackable chairs and flip-top tables. On the vibrantly colored wall were large panels printed with images of students having launch, and some wall papers of Maggi spice and Blue Band butter brand. Even on the wall, the pretty lady wasn't found. "I welcome everyone back to school this new session, especially the newly admitted JSS1 students, and look forward to having your co-operation. From tomorrow, no one would be allowed to eat in this hall without full cutleries. Also, the JSS1 girls should please produce a roster for the cleaning of this refectory. I implore all of you to behave yourself so that we can all enjoy this atmosphere without combat. Once again, you are welcome." The food prefect finished. He was such a rude slim senior. We didn't stay much in the dining hall, as I ate just little from my food and Jide did not eat much too. After all, we just resumed, and still had beverages in our bags. The week of pride, we would call it. The night class was also fine. It was a little drift from what it used to be in Cambridge. In my new School, Prep was to start by 7pm and end at 10, but serious reading would unofficially stop by 9pm, and for the remaining 1hour, students would bum around. From one class to the other, some would visit friends and gist. I enjoyed the mathematics I solved till around 9:15pm, when the situation became ear-popping, then I stopped and looked around to pick up on everyone that remained in class. Senior Carol, the head girl sat at a distance from my right. Some junior boys too, and Vikkie; the comely girl, who later became my best friend and school daughter. She was not more than a few desks away. The innocence in Vikkie's eyes reminded me of my sister, Valentina, who left for her school the previous day. She was enrolled in Matter Christi, an all-girls Catholic Secondary School. "Excuse me, can you please help with my Chemistry assignment?" Vikkie requested. "Chemistry? What makes you think I'm good at it?" I questioned, smiling. "I just hope you are." She returned. "You may come around." I told Vikkie, and she drew near with her lantern and books. "Did you just buy this lantern?" I continued, when she had settled by my left side. "I've been using it since the JSS3 days." She responded. "How come it is still this neat and the bulb dazzling?" "Is it? Well, I just...I... don't..." She stammered shyly, struggling with words. The chemistry session was so lively and we got going from there. I thought Vikkie was shy, but seriously, she was loose-lipped and fun. "Why are you this handsome for goodness' sake?" She asked. "Hmm...Well...am I? "Now, the girls’ hostel would know no peace." "What are you talking about?" The bell rang at 10pm. Night class was over, and I bade Vikkie a good night. |
Episode 2 My new School was everything different from the former. The teachers and students alike were more mature, and the atmosphere, a little different from the ever-serious one I was used to. The pains of my Dad's decision was still fresh and I couldn't stop thinking of what would be happening in Cambridge on that first day of the term. I almost cried on imagining how my friends would really be expecting my arrival: Charles would be so disappointed to learn that I wouldn't come around. I missed all of my friends so much. When the time arrived for morning devotion in Fopefolu Memorial High school, we all assembled and started singing and dancing on a plain ground decorated with two well erected poles on which hung the National and the school flags. I didn’t dance anyway, but watched the chapel prefect girl lead choruses in her smart clean white shirt, with a striped tie, a blue V-neck school sweater with logo, and a pleated grey skirt sitting comfortably on her waist. I was also fascinated by the school band, a drumline of snares, bass drum, two tenor drums, a cymbal and a group of five neatly dressed school boys. The principal soon came thundering with his croaky-cranky voice. His address was a drift from my initial impression. He was another disciplinarian of a teacher and that wasn't so fine with me: not even attractive in an oversized brown conductor. After threatening to send defaulters back home, he talked about how no act of unseriousness would be tolerated in the new session. Truth be told, there were many elegant ladies in Fopefolu Memorial High School. The girls were almost all good-looking, and in a matter of an hour, I had seen more than ten girls; all prettier than Cambridge High School's beauty queen. Most of the girls gave me a stare back, and it didn't come with a shock. I was a handsome school bo, going by my mirror's opinion. I was of an average height, with a naturally curly brownish black hair. A fairly pink thin lips housed my clean and perfect dentition. Mine was also a radiantly chocolate skin, a match of my oval shaped dimpled face. Fopefolu's grey color trouser, white polo shirt with tie, and a blue sweater did Justice to my slim body. A number of Ladies had commended my beauty in the past, and I had also got a number of love letters from girls, that even my friends knew I was popular with females. I loved my hair so much; the only thing to show for my cross-country ancestry. My new School was indeed a place to be! Apart from the beauties I had seen, the architecture was fine and the school had the facilities expected of a twenty first century high school at the time. I would not have believed a private school could be that beautiful and affordable as the tuition per session was only a hundred and fifty thousand naira. From the well fed library, to the sophisticated laboratory, I moved around. The school also had a standard football pitch with a white pair of goalposts. It was a plane, rectangular field, covered with natural green turfs. In terms of student population, Fopefolu Memorial high School wasn't bad. We also did not have to start cutting grasses, as all that had been taken care of by laborers. Ladies, monitored by prefects, swept the classes and the boys too helped arrange the newly supplied lockers and chairs. By 8am, we all settled down for the first lesson in a beautiful classroom, well-furnished for academic business. A large white board hung perfectly to the creamy yellow wall in front, and Mr. Vincent; a dark complexioned teacher in a pink long-sleeved shirt and black pant, was a perfect match for the language he taught. He had a good command of English, and, in fact, is the best teacher to have taught me the Queen's language. Some minutes into the lecture, he asked a question that turned the class into a grave yard. I quickly grabbed the opportunity to show my brightness. “The underlined is an adverbial clause of time.” I answered. Mr. V. was visibly happy. "A round of applause please?" He requested, and the whole class thundered. But, just before I could find a place back in furniture, my eyes wandered to the adjacent end of the classroom, and there I saw an angelic figure. She was a cute young lady, with a glowing chocolate skin, clear and penetrative eyeballs decorated with even brows slightly raised up as our eyes met. "You may have your sit, my brilliant boy." Mr. V. Interrupted. I was caught unconsciously glued to the pretty girl’s shy eyes. The rest of the lesson wasn't for me. I longed to see the beauty again and could not stop spying. “She's looking at me too.” I mused as our eyes clicked again. |
Episode 1 Sometimes in the early 2000s, the sun had just got to the meridian, and it was time for dinner as usual. I just finished playing football with some random guys on a nearby school field. Although I wasn't really hungry, but looked forward to seeing the night repast. My Mum and Valentina were busy in the kitchen, taking care of dinner while I took a shower and dressed in the multicolor pajamas Mum bought for me two days before. Every night table that long holiday was especial, a flawless drift from school eats. In Cambridge High school, life had not been a bed of roses, and the many marks on my body from everyday flogging were witnesses. Cambridge was in the limelight for discipline and high quality education, and the ever-serious atmosphere aside; one reason I always dreamt of holidays was the kind of food we would eat; Eba most nights with either vegetable or okro soup while some scarcely visible things would also be served as meat. But, as if Mum was a beholder of my travails in Cambridge's refectory, she made that holiday a far cry. I left the sitting room, with the television on, for the dining room; where my younger sister and mum had already started eating. Before me sat a mountain of rice, a call to what seemed an eating competition, and like a flash, I emptied my bowl and did justice to the pounce of chicken that came along. But, Mum complained again. "Must you always eat like someone is after you? I've always warned that the pace with which you eat is not decent and could be dangerous." She said, staring irritatingly at the empty plates on my side of the furniture. "Your sister started eating before you, and she's not yet done, did any invisible thing eat the food with you?" "I'm sorry Mum." I replied, a little shamefaced. Valentina was smiling and making jest of me. I hated it whenever she did that. My Dad and Mum would always refer to my sister when chewing out at me. I was two years older than her, but they would maintain she did things more decently than I would ever do. She seemed their favorite, perhaps, because she was an extremely pretty girl. But, I was handsome too. That evening, I felt like slapping Valentina right there, but my Mum wouldn't let me. I, actually, did love my sister and on several occasions, I would refrain from hitting her, even when she got me provoked. She looked really too good to be beaten. About washing my hands in a bowl of water, a song oozed seductively from the sitting room. 'This is super story, a life of strive and sorrow...' It was 8 o'clock in the evening. Valentina quickly covered her food, washed her hands and almost rushed to the sitting room before Mummy interrupted. "Where are you going?" She couldn't say a word. She only stood there staring her Mum in the face. It was my time to smile. "Will you sit back now and finish your food?" Mrs. Anike (Anike was my Mum's first name) roared. I was free to leave them in the dining room, since I was done eating. So, I packed my plates, took them to the kitchen and made for the sitting room to see the Super Story, a popular TV drama series at the time. It would have ended up a good day, should my Dad not have opened a sour chapter. My bed was already set to do its work after night prayer, when he called my name. It was 10 o'clock in the evening and I knew something serious needed a groupthink. Seated next to him, I probed myself but couldn't remember doing anything wrong. Then, I fixed my gaze on the sleeping 32" Led Panasonic TV comfortably perched on a cabinet. Our living room was painted cream, with brown leather sofas, a coffee table in the middle of the room, and side tables with a lamp, all resting on a laminate flooring. A mixture of old-fashioned and modern arts embraced the wall, and next to one of the sofas was a magazine pile. My Dad was a Director in one of the Country's frontline banks and we were comfortable, to say the least. I listened carefully as he talked: "You will not resume to Cambridge high school this coming session for some reasons. So, prepare to continue in Fopefolu Memorial High school, Victoria island, Lagos." I couldn't believe my ears: is living possible without my Cambridge friends? I protested, but my Dad would not listen. My mum was also surprised, but kept mute. We both knew he would never take back his word. I was held between anger and tears when he bade us good night and made for his room. My Dad was such a tough man, who believed so much in the superiority of his views, and would always wear the sternness; the reason some of our neighbors called him 'Daddy soldier.' My school was never a luxury, but I was already used to everything about it: the teachers, students and the environment. Those pretty girls I've always had eyes on in Cambridge? I remembered Charles, my best friend. It was really hard to imagine us not together to continue our girls hunt. I was supposed to resume to SSS2 after that long vacation and my new pairs of uniform were already with a designer, whom I have instructed to style it to suit my new status. I had even asked one of the doll faces in my class out and her body language suggested she was in. I held tears back as I returned to my darkened room. Virtually nothing could be done to change my Dad's decision. I threw my pillow away and sat on the carpeted floor, rested my back on the king size bed and stared hopelessly at the ceiling. I felt so uncomfortable in the room, unable to contain the pain of not seeing Helen, my school daughter again. I remembered Lekan, my classmate, who would always bed-wet and give lame excuses. I remembered the school drama group of which I was a member. It was hard to swallow the fact that I’ll never be part of our interesting rehearsals any longer. I closed my eyes that night, feeling condemned to hell: why would my Dad make such a decision without a prior notice? What kind of a Man is he for Christ's sake? The remaining days of the holiday was a funeral, but surviving the melancholy, I woke up to a new path on the first day of resumption. |
I learnt from souloho19 that Nairaland has got detectives (Lols). I'll roll out the invitation now. 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Excerpt I opened my eyes and was greeted by a familiar ceilingless roof. Then, I saw an unplastered wall on which hung an age group calendar. I closed my eyes and opened it again to the same unkempt room inside of which a full basket of Cocoyam laid by the side, on a cement starved floor. "Is this heaven or hell?" I was still trying to find out, when I heard a woman's voice. "A...kin! Akin ooo!! Sóò ní lo sùkúù ni (Akin, won't you go to school)? It was my mother. I turned around to see an uncovered foam on which I had slept; could I have been dreaming? I left the bed and walked through the parlor-an averagely large room containing two un-cushioned benches, a table, and a stool on which sat a dead black and white television close to a set of neatly arranged record plates, all covered with a pair of white wooly clothes. Outside the house, I saw a man approached from afar, with a gourd hung on his left shoulder and a radio on the right. He spoke on getting closer to the house, also in a familiar voice. "Akínwùnmí Oò tíì pà múra sùkúù òún náà ni (Akinwunmi, are you not prepared for school still)? My father asked. He was a palm wine tapper and was just returning from his tapping exploit. Daddy Soldier was not real? Then, I returned to the house to find my younger sister, a six years old. In her plate were slices of roasted yam and palm oil. Adelanke was dressed in a blue gown uniform on which was a breast badge of Araromi Community primary School: Valentina seemed unreal, Ewatomi wasn't real either? "But, what dream looks so real?" I left for the bathroom-a small room at the backyard, demarcated by sheets of used pans, and the floor of gravel. At the entrance was one of my mother's old wrappers, hung permanently to shield the unclothedness of the one bathing from the passers bye glare. There, I remained in my unclothedness brainstorming what could have brought such a bizarre dream about. I remembered the event of the previous day, when my uncle, his wife and two kids paid us a visit in the evening. My uncle, who arrived in a shining green pathfinder SUV worked in an oil company back in the city. His wife looked so pretty and his kids healthy and strong. The boy, my age; and the girl about two years younger, were both glowing, and their visit deepened my disgust for my parent's financial status so well. I remembered how I laid in my bed that night, after they've left, feeling so miserable. I'd always been uncomfortable with my parents' sickening poverty. I wished I was my cousins, who went to good schools and lived in good houses in Lagos. "Could that have been responsible for the dream?" After the cold bath, I ate my share of the roasted Yam breakfast and wore my Abamote Grammar School white and brown uniform. My Dad gave Adelanke a ten naira note, and I, a twenty naira note to buy biscuits in the break time. It was 7:30 in the morning, late already, but I still had to take Adelanke to her school before heading to mine. I took my sister by hand and rushed down the road to Araromi Community primary school. On the assembly, I met the pupils singing happily. Adelanke too, followed committedly the music of her peers. But, I was amazed: how can the pupils of poor parents be this happy? The children I saw were not really healthy in looks. Some looked malnourished in their tattered uniform and some were on the assembly bare-footed. Adelanke waved goodbye to me and I watched her join the assembly of less-privileged pupils, singing along with others. 'All things bright & beautiful, All creatures great and small All things Bright & wonderful, The Lord God made them all, Each little flow’r that opens, Each little bird that sings, He made their glowing colors, He made their tiny wings: All things bright & beautiful, All creatures great and small All things Bright & wonderful, The Lord God made them all, The purple-headed mountain, The river running by, The sunset and the morning That brighten up the sky: All things bright & beautiful, All creatures great and small All things Bright & wonderful, The Lord God made them all, The cold wind in the winter, The pleasant summer sun, The ripe fruits in the garden, He made them ev’ry one.' I shook my head as I listened to them. But, then I thought about them again: unfortunate, yet happy. Not in the city, yet living. Malnourished, yet radiant. Not in best schools, yet satisfied: is happiness not dependent on riches? On the contrary, Akin, in my latest dream, belonged to comfortable parents in Lagos; handsome, healthy and brilliant; yet not very happy. He was instead, a roller coaster of emotions. It took me about fifteen minutes’ walk to my school, and at the gateless entrance was an inscription. 'Abamote Grammar School. The home of Discipline.' I shook my head in pity again as I read. "So, Fopefolu Memorial High School in all her glory was not real?" Vikkie and Jide weren't real either. I also was never in Lagos, but the very remote Araromi town. It was all but a dream. "What a story!" My wife exclaimed at the end of the narrative. It was our wedding night and we had just arrived my flat from the reception. I had called her Ewatomi earlier that night, and she requested of me the reasons behind the new name. So, I told her the beautiful story. She looked perfectly like Ewatomi of my wildest teen dream. A cute young lady, she was; with a glowing chocolate skin, clear and penetrative eyeballs decorated with even brows. After a few seconds of a romantic stare at me, my bride broke the silence. "I would like a shower." She said, turned her back to me and instructed: "Unzip." I did unzip her heavy lace white wedding gown. She then pulled it off, then gave it to me with a frown and ducked lips. Clad in only the under pant and braziers, she walked in a model-sexy way towards my room, and at the entrance, she looked back at me over her shoulder and smiled. "This is Ewatomi in all her naughtiness." I mused. Some five minutes gone, I entered the bathroom and met her in the middle of a bubble bath. I touched her back gently and she shivered. At first, she was a bit shy to stand naked in my presence, but she soon was confident and we both enjoyed the tiny drops of water. Back in the room, she stood looking me in the eyes with her breathing getting faster. She sure was nervous, expecting my next move. She was innocent. I moved closer and wrapped my hands gently round her nude figure and said, with my forehead touching hers: "I'll be gentle." The music was cool and the smell of rose petals filled the entire room. I swept Ewatomi off the floor to the bed, before planting a kiss on her lips and watched her snow-white lids deemed. "First, you came in my dreams. And here, you are in my arms. Is this the circumstance you talked about in your final note?" "What are you talking about?" She said with a smile, then bit her lips. |
Author's Blurb Eyo o, eyo o Eyo o, eyo o Where the children run around There’s laughter in the crowd I hope it still remains the same Eyo o, eyo o Eyo o, eyo o And there’s something in the song That makes you feel at home And that’s what’s calling out my name Eyo o o, eyo o o. |
Dedication To Afolakemi, a pretty friend and course-mate who crossed to the world beyond, barely two weeks after our final exams in Ekiti State University. Eat neither worms nor millipedes, but the best delicacies available in the world of spirits. Also, to the Women I’ve loved: sometimes you love those who will never love you back, and other times; those who love you, you will never love back. |
This is my first drop in Nairaland Literature, and I do hope to get you guys thrilled. Fopefolu Memorial High School is Fun, actually. It is a best selling novel (hopefully) that narrates a typical high school love in the early 2000s. When I say High School, I mean High School (not Igbeti High School o or Odongunyan high School). Lol. Anyways, get ready to beg me for more updates.
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*Where is the President Nigerians Elected?* We are in a world of this or the other: either of two things involved. You are either a male or a female. You're either a white or a black. You're either a millitary man or a civilian, and all that. The same way, in today's Nigeria, you are either a Buharist or a Wailer (no neutrality). If you are a Buharist, you are safe; but if you are a Wailer, it is either of two things involved: you are either a long-time Wailer or a Converted (New) Wailer ( let's get off the joke now). But by the day, membership of the Wailers faction seems soaring while the opposite is the case for Buharists. We now have the Wailers Club. There is the Wailers Association of Nigeria, even Wailers Blog, and anytime soon, the Association of New Wailers might be unveiled (at least, online like the rest). The Buharists too, despite their membership deficit lately, present a rare show of courage. They have good writers and apologists, good orators and analysts that fill the media with counter (and more or less already made) responses to every single accusation Nigerians put up against the Person of and/or the government of Muhamadu Buhari. Talk of hunger in the land, and a Buharist will tell you how it had happened in Spain. Mention the rising poverty, the nose-diving value of Naira; and another will tell you it is just too good for a healthy economy. Even the mass massacre in the North east, you would be told it was worse under the past administration. Buharists work morning to night to feed you with the slightest of their Principal's moves and hash tag it "Buhariisworking". When the Government changes a car tyre, they quickly put it in graphics and share. When Buhari sleeps 8hrs uninterrupted in the Villa, it is in the media as an unprecedented development. Who says Buhari is not working? That is the reason Nigerians pay his monthly dues after all. That is the reason they feed him and his family from the common purse. Yes, Buhari is giving the Nation's railway a new look. No doubt, Buhari has made the EFCC less dormant. Laudably too, Buhari has constructed roads and he's sure still working on some others. He has purchased tucano jets, It is also no news that Mr. President is re-awakening Nigerian airline. These are all good projects, but they are the least Nigerians looked forward to. Nigerians want the President they elected in 2015. A president that would have provided about five million jobs by now. Could that same President have been watching the daily loss of thousands of Jobs that we now have? I guess No! Nigerians elected a President that would have banned medical tourism by politicians, he definitely can't be the one who patronises UK Doctors himself. Nigerians want their President, who would have equated a naira to a dollar. Where is the President Nigerians voted, who would have made a litre of petrol fifty naira? Or could that same man have watched a litre move from less than a hundred naira price to a hundred and fifty? The retired General re-introduced to Nigerians in the pre-election days wouldn't have looked-on while herdsmen become a threat. He in fact would have brought permanent peace and solution to the insurgency issues in the North-East; the Niger Delta; and other conflict prone states and areas such as Plateau, Benue, Bauchi, Borno, Abia, Taraba, Yobe, and Kaduna in order to engender national unity and social harmony. The president Nigerians elected in 2015 would have fixed electricity within his first six months in office. He would have Increased the quality of all federal government owned hospitals to world class standard. He's sure not the same man, who watched Aso rock Clinic die under his very nose. The Man we used to know would also have revived and reactivated our minimally performing Refineries to optimum capacity. The Buhari for whom Nigerians sent away a sitting President promised to revive and restructure the Nigerian Football League and put incentives in place to make it as competitive as other national leagues. The Man Nigerians cheered 'Sai Baba' would have Initiated action to amend the Nigerian Constitution with a view to devolving powers, duties, and responsibilities to states in order to entrench true Federalism and the Federal spirit, to mention but a few. He would have established a Conflict resolution commission to help prevent, mitigate, and resolve civil conflicts within the polity rather than declare harmless IPOB a terrorist group and launch a deadly python dance against the Igbos. Lastly, should things be different from his views when seeking votes, should he have found it impossible to fulfill his promises and activate the magic wand for which Nigerians voted him, I trust the man Nigerians elected to have willingly relinquished power and resigned honourably. I doubt if such a man of integrity would bum around seeking a second term, after a first term of woes and woes and groans. So, Nigerians where is the President you elected? Ayeni Faith Damilola faithdamilolaayeni@yahoo.com |
*Where is the President Nigerians Elected?* We are in a world of this or the other: either of two things involved. You are either a male or a female. You're either a white or a black. You're either a millitary man or a civilian, and all that. The same way, in today's Nigeria, you are either a Buharist or a Wailer (no neutrality). If you are a Buharist, you are safe; but if you are a Wailer, it is either of two things involved: you are either a long-time Wailer or a Converted (New) Wailer ( let's get off the joke now). But by the day, membership of the Wailers faction seems soaring while the opposite is the case for Buharists. We now have the Wailers Club. There is the Wailers Association of Nigeria, even Wailers Blog, and anytime soon, the Association of New Wailers might be unveiled (at least, online like the rest). The Buharists too, despite their membership deficit lately, present a rare show of courage. They have good writers and apologists, good orators and analysts that fill the media with counter (and more or less already made) responses to every single accusation Nigerians put up against the Person of and/or the government of Muhamadu Buhari. Talk of hunger in the land, and a Buharist will tell you how it had happened in Spain. Mention the rising poverty, the nose-diving value of Naira; and another will tell you it is just too good for a healthy economy. Even the mass massacre in the North east, you would be told it was worse under the past administration. Buharists work morning to night to feed you with the slightest of their Principal's moves and hash tag it "Buhariisworking". When the Government changes a car tyre, they quickly put it in graphics and share. When Buhari sleeps 8hrs uninterrupted in the Villa, it is in the media as an unprecedented development. Who says Buhari is not working? That is the reason Nigerians pay his monthly dues after all. That is the reason they feed him and his family from the common purse. Yes, Buhari is giving the Nation's railway a new look. No doubt, Buhari has made the EFCC less dormant. Laudably too, Buhari has constructed roads and he's sure still working on some others. He has purchased tucano jets, It is also no news that Mr. President is re-awakening Nigerian airline. These are all good projects, but they are the least Nigerians looked forward to. Nigerians want the President they elected in 2015. A president that would have provided about five million jobs by now. Could that same President have been watching the daily loss of thousands of Jobs that we now have? I guess No! Nigerians elected a President that would have banned medical tourism by politicians, he definitely can't be the one who patronises UK Doctors himself. Nigerians want their President, who would have equated a naira to a dollar. Where is the President Nigerians voted, who would have made a litre of petrol fifty naira? Or could that same man have watched a litre move from less than a hundred naira price to a hundred and fifty? The retired General re-introduced to Nigerians in the pre-election days wouldn't have looked-on while herdsmen become a threat. He in fact would have brought permanent peace and solution to the insurgency issues in the North-East; the Niger Delta; and other conflict prone states and areas such as Plateau, Benue, Bauchi, Borno, Abia, Taraba, Yobe, and Kaduna in order to engender national unity and social harmony. The president Nigerians elected in 2015 would have fixed electricity within his first six months in office. He would have Increased the quality of all federal government owned hospitals to world class standard. He's sure not the same man, who watched Aso rock Clinic die under his very nose. The Man we used to know would also have revived and reactivated our minimally performing Refineries to optimum capacity. The Buhari for whom Nigerians sent away a sitting President promised to revive and restructure the Nigerian Football League and put incentives in place to make it as competitive as other national leagues. The Man Nigerians cheered 'Sai Baba' would have Initiated action to amend the Nigerian Constitution with a view to devolving powers, duties, and responsibilities to states in order to entrench true Federalism and the Federal spirit, to mention but a few. He would have established a Conflict resolution commission to help prevent, mitigate, and resolve civil conflicts within the polity rather than declare harmless IPOB a terrorist group and launch a deadly python dance against the Igbos. Lastly, should things be different from his views when seeking votes, should he have found it impossible to fulfill his promises and activate the magic wand for which Nigerians voted him, I trust the man Nigerians elected to have willingly relinquished power and resigned honourably. I doubt if such a man of integrity would bum around seeking a second term, after a first term of woes and woes and groans. So, Nigerians where is the President you elected? Ayeni Faith Damilola faithdamilolaayeni@yahoo.com |
Lalasticlala, Mynd44. |
Our Priest Said Woe to Buhari I was late to church today, and it sucks. The choristers also worsened matters; they sang the psalms really bad: you know how a pianist feel when a singer wanders aimlessly from one key to another. But the scripture readings were nice. The first was taken from the 23rd chapter of Jeremiah, and it reads: Woe to the shepherds who mislead and scatter the flock of my pasture, says the LORD. Therefore, thus says the LORD, the God of Israel, against the shepherds who shepherd my people: You have scattered my sheep and driven them away. You have not cared for them, but I will take care to punish your evil deeds. I myself will gather the remnant of my flock from all the lands to which I have driven them and bring them back to their meadow; there they shall increase and multiply. I will appoint shepherds for them who will shepherd them so that they need no longer fear and tremble; and none shall be missing, says the LORD... Immediately after the Gospel reading came the homily(your Catholic friends know that). Then the priest, in a green chasuble, preached. He first took us through the historical background of the first reading and made us understand that the shepherds talked about weren't more of religious leaders. Zedekiah was the King of Judah who watched rebellion suffocate his own people. He wasn't wicked(kind of) himself but lacked the moral strength to put his kingdom in order. He watched the powerful take on the poor and vulnerable. Under his watch some citizens of Judah were oppressed and some others humiliated. Then the people began to flee. They sought succour and safety in foreign countries, away from the injustice in Judah. The same can be said of Nigeria; her citizens also flee to anywhere possible. Some desperately travel en route Libya to Europe through the Mediterranean Sea; many a time lives are lost in the process. Those that remain in the country dare not sleep with two eyes closed. Herdsmen massacre at will, and the leader(s) watch on. Terrorists keep citizens in captivity and would not release Lea Sharibu, when the Muslims find favour. The masses are subjected to hardship; hunger, penury, homelessness, with hunt, injustice and all that. Government would rather concentrate on re-election than sweat out solutions to our problems, so, the priest continued: woe to all the leaders who keep arms akimbo while their subjects suffer. Woe to all, who hold Nigeria to ransome. In all honesty, our priest never mentioned Buhari's name but I can be sure he meant all who either by ommission or commission brought Nigeria this far. He meant Buhari, he meant Jonathan and all others. He meant the pastors that extort their congregants, those who preach no salvation without tithes and sell miracle oils and water for mouth tearing sums. Have a wonderful sunday. Ayeni Faith Damilola faithdamilolaayeni@yahoo.com |
Centino:Diezani will have to return everything she still has from what she had stolen, if she would repent. |
June 12: Many Questions Yet Unanswered Just like the initial post-independence election, 1964, nigh every presidential election in Nigeria's history has refused to meet the acceptable global standard for a democratic electoral process. The 1979 election that instated Shehu Shagari irked international observers, the same way, that of 1983 was associated with massive rigging, political violence and a number of breaks and holes; a development that culminated in Buhari/Idiagbon military take-over. Down the line, 1999 saw another Nigerian election that wasn't a far cry from the offbeat norm, then in 2003, a number of people; prominent politicians and common men alike, fell victims to the many killings perpetuated by political thugs in the midst of ballot snatching, chaos and manipulations that spilled over to the presidential election of 2007, which was so marred by fraud and rigging that the winner himself, President Yar'adua admitted it lacked credibility. The ugly trend outlasted 2011 ballots, and after 2015, a student of history would acknowledge the second nature of Nigeria- electoral malpractices- which dated back to the pre-independence legislative council elections in Lagos and Calabar, when British Colonial masters allegedly put decisive measures in place to rig massively. However, a different Presidential election was conducted in 1993 and Nigerians have since refused to draw a blank on June 12. On the said day, old and young, soldiers and civilians, clerics and lay faithfuls queued to participate in what has been adjudged the fairest and freest presidential election in the history of Africa's largest nation. It was the lead off, since the coup d’état of 1983, and Basorun Moshood Kashimawo Abiola of the Social democratic party (SDP) outflanked Bashir Tofa, candidate of the National Republican Party (NRC), although, the winner was only presumed and the election later annulled. As a result of the strange unity advertised, and the lamentable after-effects, the day lingered on in the hearts of Nigerians, and consequently, was declared a public holiday in all southwestern states of the country. Meanwhile, it has remained shrouded in controversy, what the anniversary stands for, free and fair election or Abiola, the Abeokuta born Chattered Accountant whom some believe had no grounds for being called a hero in the first place. Abiola was born in August 24, 1937. He trailed western education through Baptist Boys high school Abeokuta to Glasgow, Scotland, as a student of political economy, commercial law and management accountancy. On his return to Nigeria in1966, Abiola toiled; first, as senior accountant at the University of Lagos Teaching hospital, then, at Pfizer; a multinational pharmaceutical company, and later, at the International Telephone and Telegraph corporation (ITT), where he served as Vice president, Africa and middle east. Bashorun did so much for Nigeria in investments as he registered his fingers on a number of sectors. Notable of his stakes were Abiola Farms, Abiola bookshop, Africa ocean lines, Habib bank, Radio communications Nigeria, Wonder Bakeries, Concord press, Concord airlines, Africa ocean lines and Decca W.A ltd. He was also chairman of the G15 business council and the President of Nigerian stock exchange at different times. About 121 churches and mosques, 63 secondary schools and 41 libraries were reportedly built by M.K.O, who later contested the June 12, 1993 presidential elections which eventually landed him in solitary confinement, where he breathed his last in the close of July 7, 1998. The annulment, by his friend, General Ibrahim Babangida, of an election that posited Abiola for the presidency, calls to mind the famous statement of Aristotle the philosopher, “O my friend, there is no friend!” Their intimacy dated back to 1974, when Abiola was selling radio system to the military and the then Lt-Col Ibrahim Babangida was sent to evaluate the quality of devices that were being sold. From that time, according to Babangida, "the relationship developed," and outbloomed till hitting the rock, after a widely acclaimed victory was sacrificed. Babangida's historic annulment has been tied around many reasons, among which is the complexion of the winner himself. Abiola is said to have been prominently corrupt. He's said to have clapped hands on Nigeria's money in the American International phone and Telegraph corporation, and so desexed a project that would have tossed Nigeria into a tech-rich state, by supplying refurbished telephone boots; the inspiration behind fela's song , 'International thief thief' (1980). He's also considered the unnamed, well known business tycoon behind the December 31, 1983 Military coup that overthrew a democratic government of Shehu Shagari. Also, Bashorun allegedly sponsored the counter coup that brought his friend, Babangida to power in August 1985; and earlier, at the constituent assembly, he's gossiped to have refused to sign the 1979 constitution because Sharia law was not included. Obasanjo once said, Abiola was not the messiah Nigerians were looking for, while Brigadier Halilu Akilu, the then Director General of military intelligence, was also quoted as saying “Abiola will be President over my dead body,” even, the then minister of transport, Umaru Dikko, rebuffed his candidacy, to him, the presidency was not for sale to the highest bidder, and lately, in an interview session with vanguard in 2013, Senator Stephen Ovie revealed that the annulment of June 12, 1993 election was a repayment of evil to Abiola, sighting the Maroko land deal with which he chattered and scattered Awolowo, among other evils. Meanwhile, Babangida had insisted his friend lived a very honest and straightforward life, not given to sentiments and that he was only compelled to void the said election results in view of security threats to the enthronement of a democratic government at the time. Still and all, the federal government has refused to immortalize the late sage, not a single University or airport has been named after him, not even a road in the federal capital territory, and this can only suggest that more is hidden than unclothed on the issues of June 12 and Abiola. There are just too many squabbles around his person, the source of his wealth, and death. While autopsy reportedly held his demise as a result of congested heart failure, some Nigerians have continued to surmise the tea he took with U.S Ambassador Susan Rice that preceded a violent cough, an hour of silence and final death. The story recently got a back-up rick when Major Hamza Al-Mustapha, Chief Security officer (CSO) to the Late Gen. Sani Abacha revealed in a 14-paragraph sworn affidavit filed at the Ikeja high court registry, that Abiola actually died as a result of severe beatings he received from agents of state after he was denied treatment by those who locked him up. When asked on channels television, questions related to the June 12 election, Babangida rightly hoped, and said from a likely pained heart, that "...One day, the younger generation will say they have heard one side and want to hear the other side of the story. Maybe by then we will have a better society that is prepared; that is well -informed of what happened within a period of their existence. They will then be able to say this is the true story.” History, they say, never really says goodbye, but see you later. It is, therefore, important that the younger generation knows which story to believe as regards the events of, before and after June 12, 1993, and the time is now, when many of the key players are still hale and hearty. The likes of Ibrahim Badamosi Babangida himself, Shehu Shagari, Muhammadu Buhari, Olusegun Obasanjo, Babagana kigingbe, Femi Falana, Adulsalami Abubakar, David Mark and Bayo Onanuga among others, and from them we ask the many questions yet unanswered. Was Abiola a true heroe of Democracy? Did he die of natural causes? Why was the freest and fairest election in Nigeria’s history annulled? Lastly, what do June 12 stand for, Free and Fair Election or Abiola? Ayeni Faith Damilola is a writer, public speaker and eulogist. faithdamilolaayeni@yahoo.com |
Lalasticlala, Dominique and Mynd44 ; What do you guys think? |
Are You The messiah? An Open Letter To Omoyele Sowore. Of this I'm sure, that if Nigeria refuses to be fixed this one time, heads will roll, blood will flow and many will die. Not the heads of Christmas fowls nor the blood of Ramadan sheep, but those of the oppressors and suppressors, those of the fake messiahs, their Children, and their Children's Children. It is on this note, that I write you, Mr. Sowore. The 2019 presidential election is in a spitting distance, and as usual, politicians are warming up. While the incumbent puts on gloves, a number of people are also throwing hats; the former Vice president, Atiku Abubakar, and Ayodele Fayose, Governor of Ekiti, among others from the opposition. While the aforementioned are of the ruling class, a host of new faces are also in the ready, Ahmed Buhari, 38, from Niger State, Fela Durotoye, 46, from Ibadan and You, Omoyele Sowore, 47; all prospects for Nigeria. However, among the promising young aspirants, your person seems more enticing at the moment, but, before considering you for my vote, should you win your party's primary, there are things to chew over, and prior to discussing those, this is a brief of your prospective friend. I am of the view, that there is hope in the sky for Nigeria, and that all we need is a college of young, brilliant and selfless leaders. The human resources we need might not be the richest, the most popular or the most read, the reason I decided to find my way to the depth of aspiring leaders' hearts, with a view to figuring them out. To this effect, I first engaged Tosin Ajibare, a 35 years old governorship aspirant in the early days of 2017, challenged him and his team, and let loose all of my ploys in knowing his real intention; if he was really ready to serve the people, if he was one of such leaders that Nigeria needed. I visited him in his office many a time, and we discussed the way forward for Ekiti. It was in the course of my relationship with Ajibare that I had a renewed faith in Young people and their ability to bring the real dividends of democracy to Nigerians. Subsequently, I engaged Ahmed Buhari's team, his National campaign manager also responded, and gave me a front sit invitation to his Town hall meeting in Lagos. All these to let you know, that I have been a genuine seeker of good leaders. That said, let's talk about the real issues. In 1983, it was no bother for Buhari to answer of course to a question such as: Are you the Messiah? That time, the only solution Nigerians seeked for their heaping challenges was a resolute disciplinarian and corruption fighter. In August 27, 1985, Major Gen. Ibrahim Babangida poised, yet, another messiah to a people that was visibly hungry, maltreated and abused, but, they soon learnt that man was not made for bread alone. In his November 17, 1983 speech, General Sanni Abacha also told the populace the messianic flavor behind his takeover, in his own word, "... in a bid to find solutions to the various political, economic and social problems which have engulfed our beloved country, and which have made life most difficult to the ordinary citizen of this nation...," but, when the people became victims of hunger, killings and maiming, they cried hard for another messiah, and down the line, Obasanjo came on board, then Yar' adua, Jonathan and now 'the super messiah' Muhammadu Buhari under whose watch we enjoy unprecedented hunger, mass massacre and divisions along religion and tribal lines. In all those years of trial and error, Nigerian youths were the most stung, most bitten and most deprived. In Bayo Oluwasanmi's usage, "Nigerian youths have long been marginalized, long abandoned, long abused, and long disinherited by the political leaders". 'Nigeria has devoured her youths, She has terrorized them. She offers no hope, no life, no dream, and no future. She's a dead country full of dead youths.' Hence, the cry and call for a young saviour, to which you have answered Yea with your 'takeitback' mantra. Meanwhile, anyone can make a script of all the loop holes in the past and present administrations to get voters on his side, but I must tell you, all the past leaders were lucky, even the incumbent, as they all had a patient and permissive people to deal with. From the look of things, Nigerians would no longer be so patient as they are now but an inch away from the wall, and if you well remember one proverb of our people, "when a goat is chased to the wall, it bites." The truth is: Nigerians are stretched to the limit, they well know they have been fooled over the years and are ready to fight henceforth. Nigerian youths are ready to try one from among them now, but if he should bite them again, would they call for a child President? No! They would rather kill, they will maim, they will destroy, and that time, the victims would be the political class, who had decieved, and kept deceiving them. There would definitely be a revolution, the President, ex Presidents, Governors, Senators Reps, Ministers, other prominent politicians and their offsprings may not survive. God Forbid. You would recall that speaking at the West Africa regional conference on youth employment held in Dakar, capital of Senegal in 2012, Obasanjo warned of imminent revolt, he said, “Unless the government of Nigeria takes urgent steps to arrest the menace of youth unemployment and poverty, it is a certainty that Nigeria will see revolution soon.” That's actually the truth. From my conversations with young people in the streets lately, it was crystal that Nigerians were ready to go the way of China, Russia and Cuba, but only cooled their heels, awaiting the right time, and I can tell you, that the incoming administration will either avert this nearing Moira or hasten its coming. Therefore, Mr. Sowore, while your campaign gains momentum and your name travels far and wide, answer my question, not with a well prepared manifesto like your forerunners, but by examining the very depths of your own heart. Are you the messiah, or should we look for someone else? Can you actually tackle our chain of problems or you are just an opportunist who wants to ride on the horse of 'not too young to run' and the many failures of the present administration? Nigeria right now is too tense for a joker and anyone who plays citizens, from this time onward, may not be so lucky. Apart from being young, the leader we need now must be selfless, uncorrupted and incorruptible, he must be detribalised, sensitive and impatient; ingenious, industrious and straightforward, he must be vibrant, up-to-the-minute and tech-savvy. He must be approachable, unrigid and commited. Lastly, he must be courageous and well surrounded by the best brains from within and without. This is the kind of president we need this time and if you do fit in, good. If you do not, instead of attempting to sit on a time bomb, kindly opt out of the race and join me in searching for the right man, for I'm doubly sure there's a man out there for the Job. Let me conclude in the word of Tambuwal at the 2013 Distinguished Management Lecture of the Nigerian Institute of Management (Chartered) : "due to the rampant corruption, injustice, crushing poverty coupled with the general disaffection of the people with the ruling elite, a revolution is due in the country." May Nigerian youths not break Coconut in your head. This is no time for comedy, Mr. Sowore. I wish you well and look forward to getting the hang of the real you. Sincerely, Ayeni Faith Damilola. |
The Historical Review of Nigerian Health System and The Coming To Life Of Afe Babalola Multi-System Hospital. In the days before now, in Africa, the quick fix to diseases and illnesses of any kind was believed to be a perogative of Herbalists, Orators, Soothsayers, Palmists, and Seers. For a black man, illness could only be a reparation for one's sins, an affliction by the enemy, or simply, a penalty for making the gods angry. The African foregoers undeniably did their best towards curing diseases, and sometimes giving to patients the empathy unfound in Many Nigerian Modern medicine professionals of today. However, African Traditional medicine was not diagnostic, and; as a result, there were not many natural causes known for health challenges, but unfleshy reasons, many a time said to require sacrifices backed up with locally prepared solutions, often prescribed without dosage. The first recorded entry of Western-styled medicine into Nigeria was in 1854, when Dr. Baike used quinine to shut out the growing mortality of white expeditioners inclusive of the Legendary Mungo Park. Down the line, in 1880, the first health centre was built by the Church Missionary Society(Anglican), and, the first hospital; Sacred heart, by the Roman Catholic Church in Abeokuta, 1885. It did not stop at that, the inaugural Government of Nigeria, under Lord Lugard, also advanced Modern medicine, by establishing the first government-owned hospital, St Magaret's, in Calabar, in the year 1889, aside the many health centres previously built to serve the Millitary. Today, it is an unequal story, as Nigeria is home to thousands of Health centres and Hospitals owned by Governments, Missions, Associations and individuals. Nevertheless, it is out of luck and/or unfortunate to learn that after 150yrs of the entrée of Hypocrate's medicine into Nigeria of over 35,000 certified medical Doctors, the health system is still in the pits. What could be guilty of the unshrouded deficiency in our health sector? Nigerian hospitals have since the coon's age lost the confidence and trust of citizens on account of faulty hospital infrastructures, insufficient medical equipment, ineffiicient health service providers and dearth of drugs and some other medical necessaries. Lack of empathy on the part of Doctors and Nurses, and, round-the-clock industrial actions are also among the many visibles that fit out those who can afford quality medical care abroad for the next available flight, at the slightest show-up of ailment, a development that makes Nigeria lose about 50 billion naira to medical tourism every year. Beyond is the Inappropriate funding of the health sector and ravaging corruption that makes Nigerians stare in the face, horse and buggy machines, dilapidated hospital structures, unhappy Doctors and Nurses; while developed countries enjoy the use of Modern equipment, Up-to-the-minute infrastructures and the passionate delivery of well paid service providers. It is so bad in Nigeria, giant of Africa, that even the Aso rock clinic cannot be unmentioned in our history of blues, as Aisha, wife of the President, recently mourned its scandalous state. Yes, Our story was that of hopelessness, in that, if the government could find it incredibly titanic, the bread and butter of a clinic, for which about 3 billion naira was budgeted; what is the fate of other hospitals, especially those in the rural areas of the country? The world health organisation ranked Nigerian health system 187th out of 191 countries in year 2000 just as the life expectancy in Nigeria is currently 54.05yrs, which is 216th position in the world and 16th in Africa. Furthermore, the executive director of the National primary healthcare development agency ( NPHCDA), Faisal Shuaib, put children and women yearly mortality, caused by preventable diseases at 3,000, among many other deaths which would have been nonexistent should we have a befitting health system. How many can we acknowledge from the stream of misfortunes brought about by our behind-the-times health system? On the other hand, In the thick of our health dilemma as a Nation, the establishment of Afe Babalola Multi-System Teaching Hospital is a balm on sore to Nigeria as a whole and to Ekiti state in particular, just like the Yorubas would say, that When a Man's head would favour him, it takes him straight to a problem solver. The hi-tech, ultramodern 400-bed hospital, built on 60 hectares of land is the first of its kind in sub-Sahara Africa as a result of its state of the art infrastructures, latest medical equipments and highly qualified Professionals brought in from within and without Nigerian borders. Afe Babalola University teaching hospital, a 9 block architecture set up with a view to stemming medical tourism in Nigeria, by providing for citizens every medical service available anywhere in the world, is proving true to its calling, as it has kicked off with a bounce by reportedly being able to offer up to the following medical services in the very first month of its life span: Fluoroscopy, which displays the interior of a patients body on a fluorescent screen, thereby allowing real-time viewing and examination; Endoscopy, which creates an avenue for Doctors to examine the inside of a patient's body with the aid of an endoscope, and operate on it(if necessary), without surgery, but with the use of a specialised equipment; Nuclear Medicine, in which a tiny radioactive material is used to diagnose a disease, determine its severity and also bring about its cure; Bone Densitometer, Pet-scan, ECG and Threadmill test among others. Besides, the hospital has confessed to offering Cancer Treatment, Transplant Surgery, Joint replacement and Dental surgery; the four cardinal defense for Nigerians' Medical visits to India, Germany and the US. Recently, the Multi-System Hospital got a tele-medicine equipment that would allow her pitch into tele-consulting, tele-diagnosis and tele-management, i.e experts from Dubai would complement the efforts of their Nigerian counterparts working in the hospital, by attending to patients right from their base, through an unscreen session; that is in addition to an automated device that transports blood, drugs, and other medical necessaries through a prematic tube. This up-to-the-minute machine connects the Pharmacy, Laboratories, Modular theatres and other operating theatres, Radio Frequency Cage, and wards, therefore, bringing about a drift to what the situation is in many Nigerian hospitals where patients and their family members have to go buy drugs from Mercury and submit samples in Jupiter. The hospital which has also entered into partnership with reputable international organisations such as the renowned Abbot laboratories, Aster hospital group, Dubai, among others, can best be described as a world of medical facilities and it is one reason enough to make Nigerians beat their chest with pride. Of the many contributions of Aare Afe Babalola to nation building, the hospital in review is indeed a milestone; even, for the whole of Africa, and, in addition to accolades from inland and foreign bodies, counting the prestigious University of London, he is well deserving of respect and champagne from every single Nigerian. Babalola, who had handled over 10,600 court cases as an attorney, has enriched Nigerian Judiciary, contributed to farming, education and now health. As Pro-chancelor and chairman governing council of the University of Lagos, Afe discharged his duties so passionately that he was decorated the best Nigerian Pro-chancellor in two consecutive years, before moving on to establish Afe Babalola University, which he nurtured, first; to the fastest growing private University, and, now the best in the whole of Africa. If there is anything to teach Nigerian big men, who would rather buy for themselves unprecedented luxuries in expensive cars, private jets and Multi-billion naira houses which have no positive impact on a people and country that wallows in abject poverty, it is Afe and his investments in humans. If his hospital alone, would employ 2,000 people, how many fortunate few like him do we need to make Ekiti and Nigeria a place of diverse employment opportunities? The man of many Doctorates has done his part, actually, to bring the Nigerian health system to global reckoning, what is left now is for the Government to excite such a selfless move by prohibiting medical tourism, especially for politicians who take many Nigerian billions to Foreign hospitals in the name of treatment. Never again should Nigerian leaders travel abroad on tax payers millions to cure sicknesses of any kind, we've got in Ekiti a Multi-System hospital that will take care of, even, the President not to talk of Ministers, Governors, Senators and all who seek the kind of medical care the Queen of England enjoys. Long live Aare Afe Babalola, Long live his beautiful hospital. Ayeni Faith Damilola is a Writer, Public Speaker and Eulogist. faithdamilolaayeni@yahoo.com. |
_*The Race Of The Umbrella Kingdom:*_ *Only a warrior can recognize the true Victor.* _By Tosin Ajibare Gold._ In the umbrella Kingdom, A race was declared and a price was attached. From onset the emperor declared an anointed candidate and to aid him in winning he gave him the kings personal modified race chariot, fitted with new wheels, new axles and fresh mounts and organized training sessions. To further strengthen him, he made him rehearse the course and proclaimed him throughout the land while at the same time declaring other contestants as outlaws. Any citizen of the umbrella Kingdom seen fraternizing with any of the other contestants was treated as an outlaw. At the close of the race, the judges were reshuffled to suit the emperor for assured victory. And it came to pass, on the day of the race, the emperors boy maxed 1,191km despite the modified, reinforced and articulated race chariot of the emperor, while the outlaw ran barefooted, devoid of training sessions and maxed 741km. Emperors machine: 1,191km Outlawed and persecuted contestant effort: 770km Difference: 421km Hail Ho, great is the emperor, his machine and his boy within the umbrella kingdom. ��� _Stay tuned for the race in the Broom Kingdom. Can't waste my time analysing those ones until they can successfully conclude an internal affair._ *Buckle up comrades, this so called powers are over-hyped, it's time to end the reign of the corrupt and parasitic blame traders.* _A New Beginning Beckons_ |
*Today's Date is Tomorrow* I hardly write and publish these days, and It's not OK with me. I do not seem to know what to write anylonger, as everyone seems to make sense. Meanwhile, Just yesterday, a respeted young man talked about this 'leaders of tomorrow' phrase, and it brought memories of one Nursery school marching song: Parents Listen to your children, (pah pah pah) We are the Leaders of tomorrow, (pah pah pah) Try to pay our school fees, and Give us sound education. You sang that song in those days and I did too, in Fehintola Nursery and primary school. But one thing is troubling in the golden oldie. It was a request made with a promise, but, while our parents kept their part of the bargain by paying the school fees we asked for, and so; gave us the sound education, we've refused to fulfill our own promise of becoming leaders. Instead, We have grown to be unused little draggies, a do-nothing young people. Maybe because tomorrow has refused to come, then, when will tomorrow come? In Bayo Oluwasanmi's usage, 'Nigerian youths have long been marginalized, long abandoned, long abused, and long disinherited by the political leaders. Nigeria is a country that devours its youths. It's a country that terrorizes its youths. It's a country that offers no hope, no life, no dream, and no future. It's a dead country full of dead youths.' For every little thing the world wants to do, it fixes a date. A wedding date, a graduation date, a naming date, a burial date, a resumption date and so on, but, the day young people will become leaders, Tomorrow! Again, When actually is tomorrow? Even, the next sun rise has its own date. Anyways, Yoruba foregoers said it all, 'Owó ara eni la fi í tù Ìwà ara eni se.' Tomorrow, therefore, is that day, when young people will wrestle power, that day when we would retire those who have kept on making life difficult and still tag us 'Lazy,' that day we would come together and say: Enough! Tomorrow is now, actually. In other word, today's date is tomorrow. Nigerian youths, arise this minute. Let's advance to the throne, let's aspire, and support those from among us, who want to be Senators, Governors or President! Ayeni Faith Damilola is a writer, public speaker and eulogist faithdamilolaayeni@yahoo.com |
coolscott:As much as I would have agreed with you, I think the structures would actually strangle the good plans of anyone coming from among them. |
I'm Beginning To Love Fayose! Nothing lasts till blue in the face. Not hate, not disgust. Besides, there was no time I actually shuddered at his Excellency. In fact, I so much looked forward to his second coming, especially during those times, when Ekiti seemed given away. Just that, it was not far into Osoko's second tenure before I started finding it difficult to see in his eyes, the Man the masses truly had a picture of. So many causeless and/or beside the point projects. Who would not be angry with his former sweetheart, when he does the unexpected? Fayose did thesame thing for which his predecessor was tossed out on ears, and with that, I was disappointed. I really was. I thought Ayodele would, instead of spending lots of Money on Overhead bridge, invest in Igbemo rice, so that Ekiti would feed the whole nation and beyond, then, the proceeds used to actually create jobs for the many unemployed products of Ekiti Parents. Yes, I also saw nothing actual and/or sustainable in an Ultramodern market built for a people who had been made dusty, outworn, old-hat, and gasping by hunger. Nothing good is fine when the timing is wrong, you know? Anyways, I have forgiven Mr. Governor.Yes, I have actually. His love has suddenly come to life in the graveyard of my bowels. You need listen to Fayose on Radio to get the hang of my love story. Not many politicians could be that straightforward and sincere. He said, you should go get your permanent voters card. He did not stop at that, "...òun lo lè fi lé ìjoba aninilára tàbí Ìjoba tó ní kí òsìsé máa se ìdánwo...," he continued. I know you don't still get. Do you? Now, listen and listen good. The goverrnor said: Go get your PVC with which you can send packing, a government that makes 'life difficult' or the one that makes examinations compulsory for workers. Now, let's play this game. Which government can make life difficult more than the one that owes workers more than six months salary, and pensioners, more than nine months? Which government can make life up for grabs like the one that demolishes people's houses and gives them money enough to buy them garri and groundnut? You, also, are aware of the Ekiti government that set up bull crap examinations to get Ekiti workers down. Simply put, Fayose, Apesin ola, has just told you to go get your voters card to actually send packing the PDP and the APC. If you are still an ardent supporter of a candidate in any of the two parties, Fayose is simply saying: Don't be stupid. If you like, join Maize party. If you like join Yam party, you may even join Garri party. The point remains, the PDP and the APC has failed and should be buried for good! Thank you Fayose, your excellency. Ayeni Faith Damilola is a writer, public speaker and eulogist. faithdamilolaayeni@yahoo.com |


