It was a baby boy.

Edem kissed his hairy hair softly and placed him on his chest.

Ini stared at Edem for long moments. There were tears in her eyes. She didn’t know what to do or say. The moment was here. The moment she had always wanted for her husband. The moment he would carry his own child. The child that would bear his name. His own blood.

She was aware of his secret cravings for his own child. He said it in his prayer points.

“Congratulations,” Ini whispered softly to him. He nodded tearfully at her. It was almost the happiest day of his life.

Ini turned to leave, but Edem’s arm snaked out and caught her hand. He was holding the baby in the other hand.

David walked away when he saw that Edem and Ini needed to talk.

“Whatever happened to us,” Ini said softly as he faltered. He swallowed and then released a long sigh of frustration. “It’s hard to say this.”

“You have a son now. What you have always wanted,” Ini said.

“I wanted more than a child.” He stared admiringly at the baby who was still sleeping peacefully.

“Go find her. It’s what you wanna say, you can get a good nanny,” Ini took her hands off him and walked away.

The anxious indecision on Edem’s face brought an ache to his heart. He didn’t know what to do. He’d stopped loving his wife long ago, just when he’d first kissed Emily.

He got to his feet gently and took the baby in his arms to his bedroom.

————————————-

He’d gone around town, looking for Emily with David the driver. Her phones were switched off and he was going insane. He’d gone to her house at Osongoma.

When the baby’s cry came in loudly, he ordered David to park the car by the roadside, then he called his mother.

“You have a grandchild now mama. It’s a long story mama, I don’t know what to do. He seems hungry,” he said over the phone.

When his mother heard the cry of the baby over the phone, she screamed excitedly.

“I will be at your house now,” she said and hung up the call.

“Let’s go home,” Edem ordered David.

He cuddled the baby in his arms till they got home.

[b]Link: [/b]https://africanfictions.com/behind-a-thousand-smiles-vol-2-chapter-2/

Roberta stood in the semi-darkness of the bedroom, a shaft of moonlight creeping around the edges.

Her neighbor had bought another car for his wife Ugochi again. This time, it was a brand new Lexus jeep. Roberta peeped through her bedroom window and watched as she rejoiced, dancing around the car with her new baby in her arms.

“Thank you very much honey, this is beautiful,” Ugochi said as she entered the car and admired it.


Roberta watched with envy as Ebuka, Ugochi’s husband held her hands and they walked into their house.

Roberta had been dating her fiancé Uko for almost four years, and she’d already had two daughters for him. Each time he wanted to go and see her father to conclude marriage rites, she would demand for the money to do business.

“I’ve given you over three million naira in one year to do business, yet you use the money to buy expensive hairs and jewelries. What sort of life is that?” Uko asked worriedly. He was afraid that his girlfriend was becoming unnecessarily extravagant, and he didn’t understand why.

He’d once bought her a KIA Picanto, but she told him to dispose of it and buy her a bigger car.

“Can’t you see what all the girls in this residential area drive?” she’d asked.

She was still staring at the window, admiring her neighbor’s car when Uko tapped her on her hands:

“What are you doing there?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she answered with a deep sigh, her eyes still fixed on the car.

“You’re not fine, tell me what the problem is,” Uko said.

Roberta closed the curtains and turned to look at Uko meanly; “Our neighbor just had her first baby and now see,” she pointed through the window, “Her husband just bought her a brand new Jeep. Just one child o. Not even children. And they just got married last year.”

“So, what are you insinuating?” Uko asked suspiciously.
She stood for a moment, undecided, and then turned her attention to Uko again.

“We’ve been living together for three years. I have given you two beautiful daughters, yet, you can’t even buy me a single car. Instead, you got me a toy!”

“I got you what I could afford. I am a driver Roberta. I just started working in this company. We should be grateful they’ve given us accommodation. As time goes on, I can get you as many cars as you want, let me work a little longer,” he pleaded.

“I need the car now. In short, tomorrow sef!” she exclaimed in anger.

She could feel Uko’s agitation as she laid on the bed and covered herself with the duvet.

“See, the only money I have in my savings account is the money I will be using for our wedding ceremony this year ending,” Uko said as he pulled off his shirt.

“How much?” she asked, as she sat up abruptly from the bed.

“4.6 million naira. You said you want a big wedding.”

“If it can buy me a fine car, we can postpone the wedding. Buy me a fine Lexus jeep please,” she said, throwing her hairs backward, stylishly.

“You must be insane!” Uko shouted.

“I am not insane. Make me happy Uko. Be like your fellow men, buy me a car and make me happy.”
Uko muttered something under his breath and opened the wardrobe. He searched through it and when he finally found what he was looking for, he picked it up,and walked hastily toward her and dropped it on her legs.

“That’s the list your family gave to me. It’s my priority this year to marry you. Cars will always come.

Let’s marry first,” he said.

“But I said I don’t want to marry this year again. I want a Lexus jeep.”

“You don’t get it,” he carried the paper and threw it back into the wardrobe.

He was very angry as he undid his trousers and pulled off his singlet.

Then he joined her in bed. His heart softened easily as her body touched his. As if she understood that she’d aroused him, she shifted her gown to her laps, revealing her ebony, shiny, smooth skin.

He held her firmly, and turned her face to his. “Let me touch you a little.”

He was still very close, his breath warm on her cheek. As if he couldn’t help himself, he pressed his lips to her skin, little kisses, capturing the corner of her mouth. With a groan, he turned her face, and found her mouth again. She pushed him away gently.

“Baby,” he called out softly.

“Why do you pester me like this? You’re only making it harder on yourself. Do exactly as I tell you. Buy me a Lexus jeep with the marriage money and save yourself the stress. We can marry next year,” she stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

He knew it would be of no use arguing with her and telling her how important it was to be married first. So he tried to find himself sleep, his heart heavy with anger.

Link: https://africanfictions.com/the-love-beyond-me-chapter-1/

I worry about you.

Today, my heart is strong. I drive to the florist to get a flower, and I think of you Dada, and to come see you and to come tell you this.

I wake early in the single bed I used to pretend was an ocean liner, and it's like someone dumped a bag of garri on me. My stomach growling. 'Hmm!" I groan as I try to sit upright.

"Ikanke?" My friend Marilyn calls my name. "Are you okay?" She asks.

"Take me to the hospital... take me please..." I say painfully.

She rushes over to the table by the bedside and carries my car keys.
I try to sit upright, but the pains are unbearable. I cry softly.

"When last did you see your menses?" She asks.

I groan again, I can't talk. It is as if the pains are rolling down my throat.
She tries to fix my flip-flop on my leg, I'm weak, and in pains--unbearable pains.

We manage to walk to the car. I am still in my night gown, still trying to understand why my stomach is aching this badly.

"You have ulcer." A fine black doctor in a simple jean and T-shirt says. From your accent, I know you are Nigerian, just like me.

When our eyes meet. I knew that this one is indeed the man I'd prayed for, twenty-three days ago at the mountains during the fast in Nigeria.

Prophet David had said when we see a man we like, we should declare and proclaim him to be ours, and that's exactly what happened in our case.

"She has been doing dry fasting for twenty-seven days now," Marilyn says and turns to me, " Ikanke, shebi I have warned you. I have been begging you to at least, do six hours fast. But you prefer doing more than fourteen hours," Marilyn says.

You hold my hands and feel my pulse, then you say, "She will be fine after a few prescriptions."

My heart rises. The God of the mountains of prayers sent my own husband to me, just few weeks to Valentine's day.

"You have to eat a lot and suspend your fasting for now," you say.

Of course, I'd paused my fasting already. What was there to fast and pray about again? You are here, by my side, and the sound of your voice and the way your gaze captures mine briefly before dropping to my lips make breathing difficult for me.

Marilyn has gone to bring me some clothes, and you're right by my side, feeding me with words I won't forget.

"You'll be well, but after this, make sure you eat a lot of food," you say.

I don't need food anymore, your face is enough for me. I want you to stand by my side and watch me as I sleep. It was as if you knew my mind, so you take a seat and sat by me.

"Will you like to take a stroll? It will help you to be better," you say. I nod slowly, if only you will hold my hands, so I may feel your touch and be mesmerized by it.

You hold me up on the bed as I sat, then you carry me out of the bed, I can perceive your scent, a strong perfume that I might have detested in the past, but I love it now because of you.

It is an utterly clouded night. The hospital is surrounded by water, located in a riverine area. Above the canyon walls the immense canopy of stars glimmered with a pristine beauty, the air so rarefied and clean that the milky way seems to be made of white gauze. I could almost reach out and touch it. As you stand here, hands still in the pocket of your jeans trouser, I feel a closeness to nature that steady me, and that makes me whole again.

Link: https://africanfictions.com/friday-before-valentine-chapter-2/

Sunlight had brightened the interior of the house when Enomma finally forced herself out of Edem's arms. The lantern had burned out near dawn, as she and Edem finally slept off. Sleeping next to him, cradled in his arms, had been one of the best nights of her life. They were in her village at Abak to see her mother for the first time.

They were offered akamu and akara that morning for breakfast.

Edem stared at Enomma with so much admiration. He was certain that she was pregnant this time. Her body was fairer and fresher than it had been when she first moved in to work for him and his wife Ini.

Edem took a sip of the Akamu and then nodded delightfully, "This is real akamu."

"My mother makes the best akamu in this village. She sells them," Enomma explained.

Edem went ahead and finished his akamu, but he ate just a ball of akara and gulped down one cup of water. He belched after a few minutes. Enomma widened her eyes at him;

'Madam Ini would have screamed bad manners if she was here. She is always forming madam perfect," she said with a disdain.

Edem's countenance changed from bright to a bit down, "I have told you, we won't discuss Ini anymore. It saddens me."

"Why does it sadden you when I mention her? Is she not a human being?"

"It inconveniences me when you mention my wife in our conversation," Edem said as he disposed of the cup of water on the concrete floor.

Enomma lowered herself to the floor, "You still call her your wife. You still make her superior over me, yet you won't stop diving into my bed every night when she is on her usual trips."

"Stop it this minute," Edem said, trying to control his words.

"I won't stop it. I know that the reason why you make me feel inferior before your wife is because she is educated and I'm not. But you have promised me that after I bear this child, you will send me to University of Uyo or even Unical," she said confidently.

Edem hissed, and shook his head.

"My mother will come, you will tell her that you'll marry me after our baby comes," Enomma said.

"I won't say a thing like that. I can't give promises I might not fulfill. I am already married, and I can't take a second wife."

"I know," she said softly as she placed her hands on his chest, "I know, just tell her like that, so that she won't feel bad."

Edem stared at her meanly and gave a soft sigh. "I have to go, I really have to get to Uyo before 4pm. The sandflies and mosquitoes in this village have defaced my skin," he said.

That morning, Edem told Enomma's mother about her pregnancy for him. She got up from the short stool she was sitting on and danced, twisting her waist in slow motion.
Enomma stared at her old mother with delight in her eyes.

She knew that Edem was her daughter's boss. And that a year ago, Ini his wife, had come with goat and yam to take her daughter to work for them as a maid.

EkaEno, Enomma’s mother, had not asked of Ini. She didn't see reasons why she would ask of her.

"Thank you God, I will carry a grandchild soon,” she clapped her wrinkled hands and put them up to the sky.

That evening, Edem drove back to Uyo in his blue Tundra. He was overwhelmed by the hospitality Enomma's mother had given him. He gave her the sum of fifty thousand naira, and asked her to fumigate the whole place.He knew that even if Enomma had their baby in Uyo, he won't let her go for omugwo at her mother's place, so that the mosquitoes won't devour his innocent baby's skin. He'd already imagined what his baby would look like--like him or Ini, even if she wasn't the biological mother of the child. He wished his baby would look like him or his wife.

"I want to eat mango!" Enomma screamed as she pointed at the women hawking mangoes in a tray along Ekomiman Junction.

"Did the doctor say it's safe to eat mango?" Edem asked.

"Mango is good fruit. Doctor don't need to tell me what is good for my baby, I know," she said in an Anglicized local accent.

Edem sharply took out his phone as the mango seller ran hastily across the road to them, he typed on Google, 'Is mango safe for pregnant women”

After he read through, he nodded and said, "Give her one thousand-naira mangoes."
The woman gasped, "Sa, the whole mango for my tray na five hundred naira."

"Okay, give her all of it," Edem said.

The woman emptied all the mangoes in her tray into a black nylon bag excitedly. "Oga thank you," she said excitedly.

Edem drove off.

Enomma didn't finish the first mango she'd started licking when she said, "I am tired already."

Edem became furious, "But you said you wanted mangoes?" he asked angrily.

"Yes, but I have lost my appetite now," she said.

Link: https://africanfictions.com/flash-fiction/behind-a-thousand-smiles-chapter-1/

He was a billionaire. A CEO of a prestigious bank.

Belinda had never met him, never heard of him, but he was one of the finest men she'd ever meet. One in a kind.

When she walked into the pool house with her black and white stripped Bikini, and a body wrap tied loosely around her waist, she didn't have an idea that she'd gotten someone's head turned around in 180 degrees.

She was beautiful--fair skin and a small long face.

Femi Adefarasin sat there observing her in his Givenchy body trunk. Coats of water dotting his body. His scent was a mixture of Burberry by Clive Christian and Versace Extrait. His Rolex oyster perpetual deep-sea wrist watch gave an impression about him. He was either a yahoo boy, or a Nigerian politician. That's how they looked, glamorously rich and quite noticeable.

He observed her over his glass, a hint of seduction and amusement in his eyes. The part of her that relished him was when she winked at him. He smiled childishly and knew that he'd caught her attention.

They were at the Eko Hotel and Suites. A weekend that was never meant to be so.

He'd come to rest. And she? She'd just returned from America. It was supposed to be a sweet surprise visit to her boyfriend Faniran. The valentine kind of weekend she'd imagined and dreamt of didn't come through as she had planned.

She left New York unannounced. And when she got to Lagos, she didn't also bother to call him to come pick her at the airport as usual.

And as soon as she arrived his house in Lekki, Amu the security man wouldn't let her in.

"Oga and madam no dey. Oga no tell me say make I open this gate for any other woman," Amu said in Pidgin, a local dialect of English.

"You should know me, It's Belinda, his girlfriend that stays in America. I was here last year, remember?" she said in a foreign accent.

It was the way she spoke that got her easily noticed. She had the kind of husky voice that could make a man listen to her pleas for as long as she did.

"Madam, I remember you. But Oga go sack me if I open this gate. Na so I open gate for one sisi last month. Small remain, I for lose my job,” Amu said, scratching his head like he was confused.

"Okay then, let me call him," she said and took her phone to dial his number. The phone rang and he rejected her call.

"He is probably busy," she said. "Are you sure he is home?"

"E no dey house. E comot with madam."

"Madam? His mom or?"

"Me I no sabi o. You go call am ask that one. Na my lane I dey o," Amu said mockingly.

Belinda stood there, the sun scorching her fair glossy skin.

"Sisi, leave sun o. E bad say you dey love man wey dey womanize like he-goat. Abeg no stand for sun. Come stand for here," Amu said as he pointed at a tree shade by the gate.

Amu's last sentence left her astounded.

"Faniran is dating other women?" she asked.

"Madam, no be for my mouth you hear that one o," Amu said, shrugging his shoulders and muttering inaudibly.

The horn of the car came in abruptly. She came out of the shade;

"Fani!" she called out excitedly and walked to the car.

He was shocked to see her. He alighted from the car calmly and stared at her like he'd just seen a ghost.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"It's Valentine baby, I have come to spend it with you."

There was a woman in the car, but the tinted screen couldn't let her see.

"You came all the way from America to see me for just Valentine?" He asked, trying to force a smile.

"Valentine is special for lovers Faniran."

"Madam WECOM!" Amu waved excitedly at the woman in the car.

"Who's in the car?" Belinda asked.

"My mom."

He took her aside, "Listen Belin, I can't see you now. My mom is home, maybe you should just go lodge somewhere, I will come see you. Give me a call. It's not a time to accept visitors in my house right now," he said quietly.

"But that's your mom. I have been longing to see her."

"I know. But this isn't the right time Belin."

"This is just the perfect time Faniran," she said as she walked to the car boldly and opened it from the driver's door. "Hello mommy!" She said as she brought her face down. She was bewildered by who she saw, Tania, her best friend.

"What the heck are you doing in my man's car?" Belinda asked rudely as anger circulated on her face.

Tania's heart fell, she stared at Belinda, lost for words. "Belinda please, please.... I have been..."

"Just shut that lying mouth, bitch. You will never change!" She said and slammed the door. Faniran ran after her as she went to where her luggage was.

"Baby, please just listen to us. Just listen Belin."

"Go have her! You've always wanted Tania. I have always known that. I have always known you to be a womanizer. I thought you'd change. You're getting worse by the day. My best friend!" She exclaimed painfully.

Link: https://africanfictions.com/romance-fiction/a-weekend-at-eko-chapter-2/

KINI

You know you're a white man. Your name is Jason Fox. An American from Asheville.

Last week, when I thought I was almost losing my mind from going through the hustle and bustle of Lagos, my younger sister Martha told me of your company. She said there was vacancy for a coffee server.

"Is that a job?" I had asked in amazement.

'You know companies that oyibo people own, they can decide to employ a cleaner and a duster at the same time. Meanwhile, one person can do all these things o.' Martha said to me during dinner.

I am not a graduate. I didn't go to the university. But I had an opportunity to go through secondary school. I have my West African School Certificate, so, I came to your office for employment since that was the criteria.

I stood against the wall and held both hands to my chest as the receptionist said they had closed entry for the day. Then I saw you, you asked me why I was there. Your English was accented. But I heard your words, not too clearly. It was as if you were speaking through your nose.

You are such a fine man. You look like mammy water, whatever they call the male version of them, I don't know, but you look like something that shouldn't be allowed to walk on the streets of Lagos like that.

'Sir, I came all the way from Apapa down here, and the receptionist said they've close entry for the interview,' I said these words as if I was about to cry. But you looked at me with so much pity.

'Interview for what?' you asked.

'For coffee server sir,' I replied.

'Follow me,' you said as I walked hastily behind you, wiping away the tears in my eyes.

I wasn't comfortable anymore, the black stiletto heel shoes I'd borrowed from Martha made me walk like statues would do if they walked--like I was about to break into two pieces.

'What's your name?' you asked as you settled on your black leather chair. Your office smelt of America; of Autumn and vanilla bean. Something foreign, something good that I have never perceived before.

'My name is Kini,' I said.

'Do you know how to make different types of coffee?' you asked. I nodded uncertainly.

But you knew I wasn't sure.

'It's okay, I will bring in someone who will teach you how to make at least, ten different types of coffee,' you said, breaking down your words so that I could understand every one of them.

'Thank you sir.'

'You'll resume on Monday, and again, you'll get your employment letter from Shola the receptionist. You can go now Kini, have a nice day,' you said.

The way you called my name made me laugh. I walked home that day, thinking of my new job in one of the biggest magazine companies in Nigeria.

Martha was excited. But not after she realized I had broken the heel of her shoe, she frowned.

'I am sorry.'

'But you know you're usually not comfortable in high heels, you should have worn your slippers or flat shoes,' Martha complained.

'I don't have. I have only four pairs of shoes, and they've all degummed.'

Martha was frowning, until she saw a shoe repairer, whom she paid twenty naira to fix the shoes.

On Monday, my new work at your company resumes, and I am thinking of what to wear. Blouse and skirt or my old jean and shirt? My ebony dark skin will shine under the early morning sun after I apply petroleum jelly Vaseline all over it.

My natural hair will be combed or weaved all back. We call it the 'simbi' style.
My hair is now at my chest--plenty, very long, black and shiny. The people on my street say I should start selling the shea butter I add to my hair, people would want to buy and make their hair be like mine. But I only came across it once in a while, only when we visited our grandmother in the village. She made cocoa butter and shea butter for a living.

Working from my street to the bus stop was quite far. I was familiar with the bus conductors and agbero boys. They called me 'blacky' or 'Agbani'.

'Pesin wey no dey chop food na like this e dey be,' a woman selling food by the roadside said as I stumbled on a stone and fell flat on the sandy floor. I was heading back home from Usman's dry-cleaning shop. I had gone to iron my white gown for my new work at your company.

And on my first day at work, Shola gave me a little corner by the kitchen. She looked proud, and rude. She was as yellow as a pawpaw, and the colored hair she wore made her look like those mannequins I passed by at Balogun market.

'The man who will teach you how to make coffee will arrive soon,' she said, looking down on my red flat shoes. Yes, it wasn't original, it wasn't designers like hers, but it fitted me.

'And by the way, you forgot to get your appointment letter,' she said and handed a neatly folded paper to me. 'Do you know how to read?' she asked.

'Of course,' I replied, disappointed by her question. This receptionist of yours thought everyone who spoke English wore red lipsticks and bleaching cream like her.

I opened it, and when I saw that my salary was going to be forty thousand naira in a month, I smiled to myself. Now, I would be able to send money home to mama.

Link: https://africanfictions.com/flash-fiction/caffeine-chapter-2/

The one and only thing you could have predicted about my meeting the woman who was sleeping with my husband was that I would break her head into pieces, or that I tore her clothes, pulled her hair and yelled “leave my husband Lolita!”

But that is not what happened.

At the time I met Lolita Ann-Marie Udechukwu, I was dumbfounded; not literally, I mean physically.

She used to be Henry’s girlfriend back in the university of Uyo. At that time, Henry and I had not met yet. They were both in the department of petroleum engineering.

He was in love with her, deeply in love. But she wasn’t. She loved the fact that Henry was a brilliant student who wrote her term papers, assignments, tests, and even examinations when necessary. There was a time he was almost caught, but he paid his way out of being disgraced in the midst of exams malpractice. He did more for Lolita.

Henry had told me of how Lolita cheated on him with lecturers, politicians and wealthy men from outside campus. But despite all of these, he kept on forgiving and taking her back, whether she asked for it or not.

After their final year exams, Henry decided to propose to her.

He wanted to settle down and start up life with the love of his life. His father advised him to marry when he has nothing, so that he will marry well to a woman who loved him for real, and not for the reasons that he has money.

But Lolita didn’t want such a man. She wanted a man who was already made; rich.

That afternoon, he held the engagement ring in his hands, waiting anxiously for her at the main entrance of the girl’s hostel. When she finally arrived, he knelt right before her, in the midst of excited students.

Her face was expressionless. She stared at the ring like she knew he was going to propose on that day, and then turned her back against him.

“Please marry me Lolita…”

He said in a trembling voice, staring at her searchingly.

“I didn’t plan on marrying someone who isn’t working or doing anything for a living. I can’t live in that one room of yours Henry. I can’t marry someone who is in the same level with me please.”

Her capacity to irritate him was boundless.

“We are no more students. I will find a good job, we will be happy.” He said in broken whispers.

“How can we be happy in a one room apartment? No car, no washing machine, not even hope for a good paying job. How will you take care of me?”

It took a moment for her words to register. Then she said incredulously, “You came all the way from main campus to give me a cheap steel ring, not even platinum steel, not diamond. I would have managed gold. This is not the life I want Henry.” She said meanly, not looking at his face.

He didn’t want to go into a long explanation that afternoon, it was drizzling, and students had started walking away to their hostels, murmuring and giving loud sighs at the scene.

It was becoming cold, and he was tired of kneeling down in that freezing cold. So, he asked simply, “So you won’t marry me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous Henry! Of course, I won’t marry you!”

After a few minutes of listening to Lolita’s ramblings, Henry suddenly got up and walked away. He threw the ring into the gutter. He didn’t look back, all he thought of was the wasted moments he had spent on Lolita, and all the little pennies he'd spent on her too.


Months after Henry broke up with Lolita, we met.

It was his first time in my church, pastor Cordelier called out for people who wanted to give their lives to Christ. I was an usher in church. I stood at the podium, waiting to direct them orderly. I suddenly changed my mind and decided to join them. I gave my life to Christ for the second time. And just after we said the last lines of “…I accept Jesus Christ as my lord and saviour.” He clasps his hands loosely in mine in the midst of the congregation.

When I lifted my eyes to see who it was, my heart melted at his sight. He was weeping uncontrollably.

He tightened his hands in mine, becoming safe in the warmness of my palms. Heat flared and raced between us in burning waves. Our eyes held, and just at that moment, pastor Cordelier laid hands on his forehead. He didn’t fall under anointing, I did.

Link: https://africanfictions.com/christian-fiction/letters-to-yahweh-chapter-2/

Kunle couldn't get the image of her lovely naked body out of his mind.


Adebola; Her name sounded like a sweet melody to his soul. He thought her to be flawless, he thought her to be a sex goddess.


He'd fallen in love with her a long time before the fall. She'd slipped on the staircase, and he thought it was a severe case of accident. "So sorry, I can help you please..." He said, as he carried her in his arms to his car, and then drove her to his hospital in Gwarimpa.


"I never knew you were a doctor." She said softly.


"I am," He said with a light smile, and lifted her arms gently to place the thermometer. His eyes couldn't get off her cleavage, they were perfectly fixed on her chest like two fresh oranges, and Kunle wished they were meant for his eyes alone.


The thermometer beeped, he took it off and stared at it for a second. "You have fever, I hope it's not from the fall?" He asked.


She shook her head calmly, "No, I have been feeling feverish for days now." She said girlishly.


"When last did you see your menses?"


She chuckled, "don't bother about that one Mr Neighbor, I have been a celibate for eight months now. No boyfriend. No sex. So, no possible pregnancy." She stared at his eyes for a moment as if she was reading something on his face. "I like you." She said teasingly, trying to keep her dignity.


"Thank you." Kunle retorted with a smile. He knew he was madly in love with her, and had wanted to talk with her since the day she'd packed into the compound. She suddenly held his hand, "I'm feeling feverish." She said. He felt her tremble, and as crazy as it sounded, he wanted to protect her, and give her injections that won't make her feel pains.


She held his head toward hers and he faced the truth. He saw the look of love, lust, emotions and horniness in her eyes. He had only wanted to touch her to lose himself, and secretly he'd known that all along.


He was standing by his office table, while she laid straight on the stretcher bed, but his eyes were on her. She grabbed him by his tie and kissed him passionately.


"Make love to me please. I am love sick, love starved..."


"We have to run a test on you..."


"No...I have told you what my problem is. I am sex starved, common!" She exclaimed painfully.


He had tried to be professional where Adebola was concerned, but it was getting harder by the day. It was hard to walk out on her, her beauty, her eyes wouldn't let him.


He broodingly stared out the window, at the passing scenery of cars and took back his gaze on her. She was beginning to sweat, and at the same time shiver. He'd wondered what he was going to do to her at the moment. She sat up, letting her the loose curls on her hair fall back on her shoulders, her visage beauty caught him again, he walked to his seat and settled on it disturbingly.


"You're walking out on your patient." She said girlishly.


"Seriously? I thought you were sick for real." He said.


"But I am sick." She said softly and stepped down from the stretcher bed, walked to him and took his hands to her breast. "Touch here and feel how hot my body is."


Kunle removed his jacket, unfastened his tie, and rolled up his sleeves before delving into the stack of papers on his desk. "I am busy now." He said. He could not seem to concentrate on his work; his mind was on her. She stood there, watching him as he swiveled his chair around, propped his foot on a stool and closed his eyes. "Why do you want me to touch you?" He whispered aloud.


"Touch? Not touch." She said calmly. "I want you to Bleep me hard, drive me insane. Tear me apart and make me scream."


Kunle gave a soft laugh. "You're crazy. In my office?"


"What is wrong with making love to me here?" She paused, cleared her throat and then added, "Okay, if you're not comfortable here, maybe because your girlfriend might stumble on us. We can do it in the car."


"I don't have any girlfriend." Kunle retorted coolly.


Adebola rolled her eyes, "That makes you and I. We shouldn't argue about this anymore." She said, as she sat gently on his Laps.


"The nurses... a patient might want to see me..."


"Do you have sex with your patients too? The nurses?"


He laughed out loud. " I am not that kind of a person."


"Okay fine, you will be that kind of a person to me from now." She took his chin to hers, "Kiss me." She said.


He chuckled. "I'm not comfortable doing this," He said as he stood her up, stood to his feet and began to pace, swaying around for a moment.


"Why are you panting like you're about to be deflowered?" She asked.


He raised his head slowly as realization hit him hard.


"Come to me." She said, as she began to strip off her dress.


He mellowed at the sound of her voice and turned to look at her face again. Then he immediately averted his gaze when he saw that she was naked. Her round breast, her erected nipple, and the yellow panty she wore revealed the beauty of her skin.


"Will you still make shakara for me?" She asked, winking at him.


"Why are you doing this?" He asked, coats of sweats on his body.


"Because I have been wanting this moment from the first day I saw you. Your huge body invites me, I want to hold it with my bare hands. I want your sweat to touch mine. I want to lick your skin, I want to give you a MouthAction and hear you moan my name like it's your soul music. I want to drive you insane, I want to watch you gasp for fresh air."


"I am a Yoruba man, sex can't kill me. I won't gasp for fresh air." Kunle said.


"You will, when I lick your balls. I hope it won't taste salty?"


"And if I lick your skin, and shred those pubic hairs in between your legs, will it taste like honey or oreos on chocolate ice cream? "


She gave a little sigh and moved to him, seeking the magic of the lips that lingered so near her own.

Link: https://africanfictions.com/romance-fiction/stripping-off-chapter-2/

The house was quiet when Ndidi entered. No doubt Sifon had gone to bed. She slipped out her sweater, hung it in the front closet, and made her way to her bedroom. It was a two bedroom apartment made for students. Ndidi had her own room with a bathroom, while Sifon had hers too. But they walked into each other's room whenever they wanted.

She had just returned from the midnight study class, and she was already exhausted and feeling sleepy when she heard loud moaning sounds from Sifon's bedroom. She was at it again, having sex with random school boys and getting infected with diseases that had no names.

She opened her mini refrigerator and took a bottle of coke from it. She opened it and began to sip it slowly. It was almost 6:00 am in the morning and she didn't want to miss her 7:00 am lectures at the main campus.

So caught up was she in pondering the answers to her questions.

Why was Sifon always having numerous boyfriends, yet, complained of heartbreak almost weekly?

They'd been room mates for almost two years, and she was already tired of Sifon's complaints about boys and men. She never talked about her lecturers nor her courses. It was always men and party. She was becoming a nuisance to Ndidi, yet her gentle and introvert nature wouldn't let her speak out her mind.

She wanted to continue reading from her room, but the loud sexual noise from Sifon's bedroom disturbed her. It was part of the reasons she was accustomed to going for midnight study classes.

"Oh baby, give it to me my boo." Sifon screamed erotically from her room.

Though her bedroom lights were off, but Ndidi could tell it was a married man this time. The masculine voice that was panting was too bold to be just a boy. All sorts of scenarios raced through her mind, she didn't understand why anyone would be that lousy, but Sifon was her roommate and best friend, and she had to be tolerant of some of her attitudes.

Most times, Ndidi lay utterly still, afraid to breathe. In her most daring fantasies, she had wondered what it felt like to have a man kiss her or make love to her. To lay hip to hip, thigh to thigh, her tender breast crushed against brawny chest, his face Nuzzled in her freshly washed long hair.

She smiled to herself, unable to resist thinking of everything that had to do with sex that she never experienced. Her mother always told her never to let a man touch her body for any reason, until he was ready to marry her. She was the only daughter of a wealthy widowed mother, She used to having anything she wanted at anytime she wanted it. Yet, she wasn't proud, unlike Sifon who didn't have half of what she had, yet she'd already titled herself queen of beauty and money in her department.

Ndidi was a level two hundred medical student, brilliant and ambitious, yet, boys wouldn't stop staring at her beautiful face and slim fit body. She was beautiful in all ramifications, and everyone wanted to be her friend. She took herself out from the crowds of girls who wore designers wears and had fancy shoes and bags to be on her own. Her roommate was enough trouble of a human to be associated with, she didn't need drama in her life. And at the end of it, she was being tagged as being snobbish and proud. But Sifon always defended her friend, "That's her nature. She isn't proud." Sifon would say, each time other girls talked down at Ndidi.

Ndidi had over a hundred shoes, designers bags and perfumes. Her mother shopped them anytime she was out of the country. And even when Ndidi had numerous Virgin hairs, sent by aunty from Malaysia, she still wore her eighteen inches natural hair to school on a daily basis. And the question, 'Is this your hair?' was always answered at every single minute in school.

"It's only runs girls that carry iphones in this campus. I don't know why you have all the gadgets, yet, you will lie that you don't have any man friend that touches this your small breast." Sifon would say.

"It's my mother that bought them for me." Ndidi would reply innocently.

"Every time your mother bought this and that for you, keep lying o." Sifon would retort.

She didn't close her eyes up to fifteen minutes when Sifon knocked on her room door. "Roomy, wake up it's 6:46 am."

Ndidi's eyes popped out open, she jumped up from her bed, "When did you come back from night class?" Sifon asked.

"Few hours ago." Ndidi said.

"And you still want to attend Mr Sade's class this morning?" Sifon asked in amazement. But Ndidi ignored her, she knew where the argument will end if she'd started reminding her that she had over seven carry overs the previous semester and that if she doesn't study hard, she might be given involuntary withdrawal.

Link: https://africanfictions.com/flash-fiction/boyfriend-snatcher-chapter-2/

Sana glanced around to make sure she wasn’t overheard. She looked stricken. “I was in a hurry; I forgot to wear my panty.”

She was in her husband’s office, the tallest skyscraper in Najira. It was built by Andy, Sana’s husband. One of the wealthiest young men in Najira.

Sana settled on his laps. He smiled and sighed at the same time. “Have you seen how pointed my breast has turned out to be since I started using the pushup bra you bought for me from Dubai?” She asked, “This thing happens to be the style now,” She glanced down at her glittering Prada blue tube dress. It was tight, short and strapless. She had bought it in San Francisco the last time she went on holiday. Her sleek skin was beautiful in the dress and men couldn’t take their eyes off her stainless shiny dark skin. She used to be the youngest of King Naji’s Wives. Immediately hr husband, the late king died, th chief shared his young wives amongst his sons and brothers. But Andy, the heir to the throne had chosen his father's youngest wife Sana.

Sana was just twenty years of age. And she’d fallen in love with Andy, the king's son the first day she was taken to the palace to be groomed for the King.

She was beautiful, and even if the king was too sick to touch her, he’d kissed her once and said to her, “You’re the most Beautiful woman I have set my eyes on.”

Sana smiled. And that was the last time she had ever done something close to intimacy with the late king.

Andy had started making love to her long before his father died. He deflowered her few hours after he proposed his love to her.

Even if his father was recognized as the wealthiest king in Najira, Andy was far richer. And the citizens wondered if all his money came from gold mining company. Najigold was one of the most reputable and recognized company in the world. He hobnobbed with the affluence and he was one of the top young men who belonged to the billionaires club in Najira. He’d bought lands in other countries and had started mining Diamonds, amethyst, topaz and other gemstones.

His late mother owned these businesses and he was her only son, and the only one who inherited all her wealth and a few of his late father’s wealth.

He owned luxury houses and jewelry companies in India, Dubai and America. And even when everyone thought he owned the jewelry companies, he had set them up in Sana’s name.

Sana stared into his eyes and all she saw was a god in her small young husband. He was thirty, young looking, dark and smallish. He was a small fine man, 5:4 inches in height, hairy, yet powerful and feared.

“Do you like my dress?” Sana asked him.

“Yeah I do. You look gorgeous in it my queen.” He said. “Today, I own you all to myself, I won’t share you with any of those men at papa’s casino.”

She chuckled.

“Those men go insane when they see you. They think you’re a normal woman.” He laughed and then took her face to his, “You’re my queen, my bitch, my LovePeddler. You’re the only woman I love.” In a while, he caught the scent of her perfume. “Look at how I’ve spoilt you, you now scent almost a million naira DKNY golden delicious.” He sniffed. “Sexy!” He added.

She knew that if her perfume wasn’t going to drive him insane, then her dress would, but the both did. When she had first walked into the office, his eyes had almost popped out. The dress molded to her body like a second skin. Revealing each and every curve. It’s what Andy died for, her curves. She was taller than him, yet, they were on the same size on bed when he made love to her. He was so mad over her body shape that they’d planned to have babies via surrogate.

The sequins were made together in a way that made her look as though she were wearing the skin of some reptile, which was even more provoking. Her hair was long and bouncy, the hair she’d bought from India the week she’d gone to inspect her company.

He removed his clothes and began to kiss her generously. Then he held her tight to himself. “You like tempting me bad girl, now see what you’ve caused.” He said, touching her breasts.

“You remember that girl you kissed at a party in Egypt?”

“The girl who looked like a Egyptian doll?”

Sana chuckled aloud. “You remember how she moaned when you made love to her that evening at Four Seasons Hotel Cairo at Nile Plaza and she screamed so loud I had to cover her mouth with my panty.” They both laughed and fell on each other..

“You’re a big bitch Sweetheart." Andy teased laughingly. Sana laughed too, she always laughed so hard, each time she remembered the scenarios that happened on each trip she and her husband Andy made to other countries.

“I’m gonna scream like her today.” She said.

“No baby please, this is my office, I can come to your office space and do same if you want.” He kissed her on the lips.


Link: https://africanfictions.com/short-story/perfect-marriage-chapter-2/

Her dark hair waved back from her forehead and curled rebelliously at the base of her neck as she tried to understand the kinds of machines that were used for each exercise.

"Excuse me, I am new here, I want to flatten my tummy." Oto said calmly to the gym instructor.

"Have you paid?" The huge lanky gym man asked. She nodded. "Follow me." He said to her as he led her to another room.

Oto was at the gym for the first time, her mother had shamed her big belly again. She was on the second plate of her favorite food, Editan soup and Fufu, when she walked in and abused her.

"You eat too much, that is why you're not married up till now, look at your pot belly, which man marries a fat woman these days?" She lost appetite immediately she said those words to her.

Her mother Cecilia was bothered about her body size, but was unconcerned about how her second husband, Oto's Wealthy step father Uko would rape and molest her, and after few days he would buy her three cards of birth control pills.

Her mother had caught him trying to pull her panty twice, she'd returned back from church that evening. And when she opened the door and saw that he was almost tearing her nine year old daughter apart, she dragged him off her and slapped his face.

"You drunken bastard!" She yelled as she dragged him out of the room.

It was his fifteenth time of molesting her.

"If you don't let me touch you, I will not pay your school fees, and I will not buy you new clothes this Christmas." Uko would say to her, each time he wanted to touch her.

He would sneak into her room, while his wife Cecilia was asleep and run his fingers down her thighs to her panty, she'd woken up several times in shock to see him stand naked right before her. She would avert his gaze and he would hold up her face to his and say softly, "Look at me, look at my thing and touch it. If you tell your mother about this, I will kill you and kill your mother." He threatened her with these words all the time. And one day, as she became a teenager, and then grew into adulthood, she became aware of the abuse she'd gone through in the hands of her stepfather.

Oto had thought that her mother's marriage to Uko was going to end soon, but no, they were still together. And as Oto clocked twenty six, the hatred she had for her stepfather kept burning wilder.

"Why are you still married to this man Mama? He doesn't deserve you or I in his life." Oto said worriedly to her mother.

Cecilia shook her head and turned sadly to her, "Your biological father and I divorced because he was too poor to take care of you, too poor to feed us nor even buy you okirika clothes. And worst of all, he used to beat me up like I was his drum. I left him because I didn't want to die."

"No mama, that's not true. You left him because you were cheating on him with my stepfather who was spoiling you with money. You provoked my real father to beat you up, you used to insult him and called him abusive names right before our neighbors." Oto said boldly.

Her mother chuckled shyly. She allowed a small sigh to escape her. "You were just eight years old when I left your father, what did you know?"

"I can still recall mama. I was a child, but the memories of those moments is still in my head."

Oto knew that her mother would never leave Uko because of what people were going to say. "They will laugh at me. They will say I can't keep a home." She would say, each time Oto advised her to quit her marriage.

Oto, a chubby dark girl who was tall like her mother. She was beautifully endowed with long chubby legs and her beautiful shape that made anything she wore fittable.

She was an introvert human, who hardly talked. She wasn't sociable, and her mother was worried that her temperament had scared men away from her.

Being at the gym for the first time, she was determined to exercise more and burn all the fats are mother was worried about. They were lots of girls in the gym, slender tall girls who looked like models, Oto had wondered what they were doing in the gym. She was a size fourteen, working so hard to take a shape of size twelve, and these girls weren't up to a size eight and they were seriously jogging on a moving exercise machine. She became motivated as she kept putting her hands behind her head, and pushing her head over to her feet, just as the gym instructor was doing.

She glanced casually at the man who was beside her and found herself looking into his eyes that were hard, deep and rather fierce. He was a hunky man in his late thirties with a six pack body size that made her stare uncontrollably. He looked more like a model, the kind of men she saw only on foreign magazines.

"Why are you looking at me?" The man asked acidly.

She averted her gaze immediately.

"I am talking to you." He asked, his husky tone was a bit soft now.

"Me?" Oto asked, pretending to be confused. Her wide eyes fastened on his mouth, and she saw the firm, sensuous lips part in an unwilling, slightly rueful smile.

"Yes you, you've been staring at me." He said as he got up immediately and took his water can, gulping down the entire content down his throat. His body was all sweaty and wet. Oto looked startled. "I wasn't looking at you." She said shyly.

"Liar, you were admiring my body huh?" He said with a tricky smile.

She nodded gently.

"I know right." He said with a smile. She smiled back.

"You looked as though you've seen a vision, or been hit on the head by a falling fixture, a pink florescent one at that." He said.

Oto giggled and shrugged, tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder.

"You're beautiful." He said and winked at her as he walked away. He shook hands with the other people and Oto watched the other girls stare at him in admiration as he walked away.

Men like that were heart breakers, they never like chubby girls like her, she thought

Link: https://africanfictions.com/romance-comedy/otys-autopsy-chapter-1/

Etini wasn't sure if she was relieved or sad as she leaned against the bathroom door, looking at her mother in a worrisome manner. Her father was sitting on the cane chair with a belt, he had loosed it from his waist when Etini refused removing her panty.

"I am still a virgin papa. I can't pull my panty to prove it." She said tearily.

"Then you're not!" Her mother retorted with a loud tone. "It's either you're a virgin and you open your legs for me as your mother to see, or you're not, then close it and stand there." She beat her hands on the holy bible twice. "I married your father a virgin. He was a young minister when we met..."

"Mama, you've said that many times."
"Shut up!" Her father yelled.

Etini lowered herself to the floor and tightened her girlish face. She was an eighteen years old teenager who grew under the shadows of her religious parents. Her Father, Oscar, was a pastor of a church. While her mother was an evangelist. Etini, being the only child, was well tamed, disciplined and controlled.

"Etini, have you ever allowed a man touch your breast?" Her mother broke the silence.

"No!" Etini replied firmly, still with a tightened face.

"Then why have you not allowed me to check you?"

"Because I am a big girl now mama. I am eighteen." Her father shrugged.

"So, because you're eighteen, you now have wings to fly abi? You want to let the devil use your age to mislead you into the sinful world abi? Being eighteen has given you the temerity to be stubborn abi? What did the bible say about children who disobey their parents?" He asked her gruffly but softly, so that his voice won't be heard by the neighbors.

They lived in a large compound, accommodated by church pastors of same ministry. Being a senior pastor of a large church as Chapel of Grace ministries, Pastor Oscar wanted a sinless and perfect life for him, his wife and only daughter. He wanted a life worth emulating and loved.

"Do you want to disgrace your father and I? Do you know how God detests stubborn children?
Etini's face flamed. She carefully removed her skirt. Her father averted his gaze to the wall when he saw that she was ready to prove that she was still a virgin. She carefully pulled out her panty and walked slowly to the bed, lying on it and spreading it wide open. Her mother stood up immediately and turned to her father, let me have the torchlight." He handed it to her immediately, and still averted his gaze to the wall.

Her mother pointed the torch in between her legs, trying to see through. She rushed to the reading desk were she had piles of different versions of bibles and her reading glasses on it. She put it on and rushed back to Etini.

"Open your legs wider." She said softly as she tried to see through her vagina.

Her father began to whisper words of prayers. "Father, let my daughter not disgrace me. I didn't disgrace my father. May she be a virgin oh lord."

"It's intact." Her mother said excitedly after few seconds.

Pastor Oscar smiled. "Thank you Jesus." He muttered.

Etini carefully got up from the bed, wore her panty and then her skirt.

"Listen to me, God is not happy for the fact that you punished your mother and I by wasting time to do this. Go to the chapel and ask God to forgive you. Make sure you use the olive oil on your face and the holy water to rinse that sinful mouth you used to challenge your mother and I."

Etini walked away dumbfounded and bittered.

And as she walked into the chapel, she fell to the floor. Stress had finally caught up with her. The prayer came from her soul; a whispered plea for help to gain admission into her dream theological school.

***************************

The next morning, Etini's best friend Kokomma visited her. She was dressed in a maxi oversized gown that almost swept the floor as she walked. Her hair was braided with a rubber thread that revealed the skin of her head.

Etini smiled the moment she saw her.

"You are not dressed for bible class?" Kokomma asked.

"Bible class isn't now. It's in the evening." Etini replied.

Kokomma lowered her voice and her face down to Etini's, "I know. I want you to accompany me somewhere."

"I doubt you have any idea of what I went through yesterday for coming back late from choir rehearsals. My father will squeeze me with his bare hands."

"But if I was the one, shebi I would have followed you? shebi I would have lied to cover up for you?" Kokomma asked with a frowning face.

"My apologies. I don't want problems with my parents."

Kokomma knelt down slowly. "Please Etini, this is the last time we're seeing Solo together. He will be going back to campus. And he wants to give me money for panties, brassieres and lip gloss."
She spoke the last words in a whisper for her ears alone. "I will give you some money too."

"Etini stood, "I am not accompanying you because of his money, I am only doing this for friendship sake." Kokomma laughed and stood to hug her.

That morning they'd visited Solo again, it was the second time Etini accompanied Kokomma to his place. Solo was the son of one of the senior pastors of the same church; He was twenty eight, huge and quite masculine.

As Kokomma got into his one room apartment, Etini sat gently on the verandah, patiently waiting for her friend.

Then the sound came in again, it was a soft moan.
Etini wondered what was going on.

"Are you okay Kokomma?" Etini asked.

"Yes...yes..." She replied unsteadily.

How vain and ignorant Kokomma thought Etini was, she was thinking her the most helpless, noodle witted female ever to think so weird and asked such a silly question.

Link: https://africanfictions.com/romance-fiction/evergreen-emerald-chapter-2/

Nnedi stood in the shadows, in an alley off her church, St. Vincent de Paul , waiting for Chibuzor.

She hated waiting, but she could do it for him alone. She had waited for three years to be in his arms and now the time had come. He'd been in Canada for three years, finding greener pastures. And the plan was for her to meet him in Canada, but things didn't work out the way he'd planned it to be. He worked too hard, yet he wasn't seeing results. And when he saw that his friends who were wealthier than him were into drug trafficking, and he had no other choice than to join.

As soon as she saw a car driving toward the catholic church sign board her heart beat became sound and clear.

She screamed excitedly and ran toward him, then she fell on his body and hugged him so tight to herself. "Chibuzo, oh my love."

He hugged her too, and he kissed her simply on the cheeks.

"bros, you never pay me o." The taxi driver said.

Chibuzo turned to Nnedi and said calmly, "Do you have to a thousand five hundred with you?" She nodded and searched through the partitions of her bag, then she handed the money to the cab driver. When the taxi guy drove off, she held his box firmly and asked, "where are we lodging?"

He brought his head to the floor shyly. She suddenly understood what it meant.

"Let's go to my house." She said delightedly.

He walked gently behind her, she held the box and rolled it, leading the way to her house. When she got to her self contained apartment, she looked at his face and said, "This is where I live now."

She hasn't changed that much to him; Still chubby and in shape. Her complexion was darker than it seemed in all the pictures she sent to him.

He smiled lightly and sat on the soft mattress that sank him.

She kissed him on his lip and said, "I have tomatoes stew in the freezer. I don't know if you still love ice fish, I made it with ice fish." She said.

"Of course. We have the best fishes." He said.

She rushed to the kitchen, defrost the stew and after some moments, rice and stew was ready. As he ate the food, Nnedi looked at his box. "If this is the only luggage you came back with, that means you'd be going back to Canada, but you told me you won't be going back."

"I won't be going back." He retorted with fish in his mouth.

"Then why haven't you brought all your stuffs?"

"These are all my stuffs." He replied.

"This small box?" She asked with a surprise stare.

He drank water and after he bulged, he said to her, "I have a lot to tell you my baby." He said, "As I am here with you, I don't have a dime on me." He said with emotions in his tone.

Her heartbeat accelerated and a bead of sweat limned her upper lip as she stared at Chibuzor in wonderment.

"But each time we spoke, you said you were getting ready to work." She said, "You even said one time that as soon as you come home, we will be getting married, what then happened to your finances Chibu?"

"I was deported!"

"Chi'mo! Deported? What did you do?"

"You don't have to do anything to be deported, the whites hate us."

"But we still have black people over there who are doing well?"

"Yes, those are mostly American citizens." He said.

He began to cry softly and she held him to herself. "Chibu, Please don't cry. I am here for you my love."


"I wanted to come back home and marry you properly, buy you a car and build a house here, then go back and hustle for more money. But now see." He laid in her arms, tensed and still listening to every word of comfort he gave to her.

"Will you go to Umuaka to see your people?" She asked.

"Which people? My stepmother is the cause of all my problems. I can't step my legs into that witchcraft coffin called Umuaka." He shrugged.

"If your parents were alive, I know you would have loved to visit."

"She killed my parents! That witch!" He exclaimed.

"You need to shower." She said, and led him to the bathroom.

Chibuzor sank himself into the small bathtub, his body was slim and he could size in there comfortably, unlike Nnedi whose weighty body had made the bathtub sink in a bit.

They made love under the duvet. He missed her. They'd dated for seven years, and he'd worked so hard to marry her.

She'd stolen her elder brother's money and given to him to add up and travel to Canada, and until then, she'd been running away from her brother Ebuka.

He was the only man she loved, and each time any other man wanted her, she'd turn down their proposal. Wealthy men in their big cars asked for her hand in marriage, but she told them of Chibuzor, and how much she adored him.

https://africanfictions.com/short-story/to-love-and-to-cherish-chapter-2/

When the knock came on the door, Uyama thought it was surely too soon for Amaitem to have driven from Eket to Uyo. It seemed no time at all since he had said, ‘I’ll be with you soon,’ and hung up the call before she could say another word.

He’d gone to minister as a chorister at their main church branch in Eket for almost a week, and he’d missed Uyama so much. He’d never been away from her for so long since they’d met. As a commissioner and a choir leader, Amaitem was a busy man. He travelled everywhere with Uyama, and when he had time for his wife Dara and his daughter Jayla, he’d only spent few hours with them.

Now, Uyama opened the door slowly and stared at the woman whose body size had filled the doorway, while her head nearly touched the beam across the top. She had an expensive thick curling bohemian hair, and her complexion was more tanned than she remembered. She had a huge zirconia choker necklace around her neck, and a bold expensive stud earring that glittered rainbow colors at night.

In appearance, Dara was quite a huge woman with so much expensive accessories that spoke volume. She was rich and beauty wasn’t really the right word to describe Dara. She was tall and chubby. High cheek bones and a good structure meant that she was almost beautiful.

When Uyama realized who she was, her heart trembled. She’d seen her countless times at the church launching high table, and on pages of newspapers. She’d seen her on Amaitem’s phone. Dara was once on Amaitem’s screensaver until he met Uyama and began to have intimacy with her. He was his choir director, and she was just a week old in the mountain of Life ministries at Uyo when they’d started dating.

She couldn’t speak. Dara looked down at her for moments and then beyond her. “You’re that bitch, that bitch that has been sleeping with my husband.” Dara pushed her aside and walked into the middle of her room, taking a quick snobbish glance.

“Madam please what do you want here?” Uyama asked quietly.

“My husband and you are dating. I came to warn you cheap LovePeddler, who hides and pretends under the chorister’s robe and sleep with married men in church…”

“Ex…excuse me ma…” Uyama stammered.

“Shut up! You think I don’t know that you and my husband Amaitem are going out and fornicating?” She asked sternly. Her eyes had turned mysteriously red. “Next time I see you near my husband, or my husband near you, I will report you to the general overseer, or to our branch pastor. Women like you shouldn’t be seen in churches, you’re nothing but a cheap slut, whose agenda is just to sleep with people’s husbands. I know your type! You’re a runs girl.” Dara said rudely and pushed her aside, walking away. As she slammed the door, Uyama ran towards the door and managed to turn the key in the lock with a shaky hand. She settled on a chair, a chill like cold and heat had been creeping through her since Dara left.

She wondered how Dara knew where she lived. She’d been dating Amaitem for just two months, and she’d not collected as much money as she’d wanted. He’d only paid her house rent for the year, bought her an iPhone seven, and allowance of two hundred thousand naira only.

Uyama was beautiful, elegant and attractive. She had the kind of body a man yearned for. Since her former man friend Chief Hezekiah died of balanitis. He was like her earthly god. And even when all her friends had forged lies against her to chief, he’d loved her and spent more money on her. And to start life all over again, she’d relocated to Uyo her hometown.

Uyama cleared the scanty burgundy hair that covered her scanty eyelashes in between sweats.

She dialled Amaitem’s number, and when it rang for a while, he picked the call and said, “I’ll be right with you.” He hung up, didn’t allow her say more words. She wanted to phone him and stop him, but she inhaled a deep breath and pondered around her large self-contain that had lots of expensive decors around it. The thoughts of Dara’s threats danced in her brain, forming all sorts of combinations; her head was aching. She’d started chewing her artificial nails, defacing the green colour to white. She’d met her ex-lovers wives who’d come to fight her and warn her against their husbands in the market, shopping malls, and salons. But they were not half as stunning and huge as Dara.

A knock suddenly came again at the door, her heart trembled. She rushed to see who it was, and when she saw that it was Amaitem, she opened the door hastily, locking it as he stepped his foot in the room.

“Your wife just left here.” She said softly, her heart was beating fast.

“Dara came here?” Amaitem asked, looking amazed. Uyama nodded.

‘Did she do anything to you?” He asked, holding her tight and looking into her eyes. Her face was pressed around his shoulders and she jerked back head, away from him, gasping.

“You have to get me another apartment as soon as possible. I can’t stay here any longer baby.”

“Hold it.” He held her upright with one arm, slipping off his jacket and dropping it over the bed. “Now sit down and relax. I will do anything for you Uyama baby.”

His voice calmed her. He was the cutest of all the men he’d dated. He was different, bold, tall, huge, masculine, just her kind of man.

https://africanfictions.com/flash-fiction/memorable-july-chapter-2/

At the African Union summit in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, Saturday, President Buhari of Nigeria advocated the creation of a database of terrorists on the African continent.

Good going, Mr. President, except that I doubt that there will be a definitional consensus on the key subject of terrorism. And it wouldn't be completely unprecedented. Your predecessor did propound the rather bizarre theory that official stealing is not corruption. So, Mr. President, before you go grandstanding on terrorist database, why not first have a common baseline on who is a terrorist?

The terror in town in Nigeria today is the menace of Fulani herdsmen. Have you recognized those murderous herdsmen as terrorists? I don't know that you have. But if you have, then the problem might not be the absence of a terrorist database. The problem might just be your strange and unexplainable lack of will to combat terrorism. Worse still, your selectivity on the jurisprudence of terror.

Had you engaged the rampaging Fulani herdsmen terrorists with half the will, zeal, and swiftness that you brought to the IPOB python dance, scores and hundreds of innocent men, women, children, and entire families in Benue and elsewhere would still be alive today.

Truth is, in the end, leaders and policymakers will receive forgiveness for ordinary policy mistakes. But standing by, in tacit acquiescence, as innocent women and children are slaughtered in savage gory macabre, is one sin that God will not forgive, not in this life, not in the...

http://ikengachronicles.com/buharis-terror-grandstanding-database-without-baseline/

Please watch the embedded video. This happened in Detroit just yesterday--Martin Luther King's holiday.

In the year since President Donald Trump took office, it's become abundantly clear that his war on immigrants is blind, cruel, and without any sort of rhyme or reason. From the travel ban to the potential loss of DACA, it has begun to feel like each day in the era of Trump carries with it a new threat against the men, women, and children who have known no other home than the one they inhabit in America.

And with that constant drumbeat of danger comes a whole new breed of heartbreak and loss, one that has very real consequences for American families. Their harrowing tales should be shouted from the mountaintops, shared widely in order to ensure that this new reality, born out of the hatred and abject racism of a few, is drowned out by the love and compassion of the many. And this is one of their stories, one that bears repeating, and it comes to us from Niraj Warikoo of Detroit Free Press.

On Jan. 15 — the day on which the US celebrates the legacy of Martin Luther King Jr. — 39-year-old husband and father of two, Jorge Garcia was deported from his home in Detroit, MI. Garcia had a stable job as a landscaper, paid his taxes, and had no criminal record. His wife and children are US citizens. Yet in November, he was ordered to leave the country, because despite having lived here for 29 years and being a law-abiding citizen, he was still brought to America at 10 years old by undocumented immigrants, and that left him a sitting duck for the Trump administration's unholy crackdown on American immigrants writ large.

Warikoo notes that on the morning of his deportation, "accompanied by ICE agents at Detroit Metro Airport, Garcia went through security as supporters around him held up signs that read, 'Stop Separating Families.'" There's a crucial reminder, here, about the real lives that are at stake as a result of the words of a president who shoots from the hip and speaks before he thinks.

As Americans, we need to ensure that these individuals are not slipping through the cracks, that these stories of injustice are repeated louder than ever — and that we never, ever give up the fight for these families, like the Garcias, that so desperately need our help.

Video Credit: Youtube

http://ikengachronicles.com/reality-donald-trumps-america/

You can find out for yourself in this video by MSNBC:

https://www.facebook.com/msnbc/videos/1902763759819867/hc_ref=ARQZTb7wm2hwq919KnvDLlZkauNhy1iCQlBhhE2L1onBBkkUg66JFRjHSlsugB5PuK4&pnref=story

FakoMaybach1:
Someone shud help me summarize the nonsense above by the OP

Is Nigeria not a shit hole?

And many people have said Trump did not say that, were u in the meeting? how did u know he said it...all these Nigerians wey carry democrats matter for head like gala, wake up and smell the coffee

The British invaded the space we call Nigeria in the 19th Century. By 1897, we had the Lagos, Southern and Northern Protectorates. The Lagos Protectorate was later subsumed into the Southern Protectorate.

The British implemented the Direct Rule System of Government in the Southern Protectorate and the Indirect Rule in the Northern Protectorate. These were two very distinct systems of government, with different outcomes.

The Direct Rule System was such that British officials and civil servants were directly in charge of administration. There were courts manned by British judges, civil service manned by the British, Municipal and District Officers, etc were manned by the British. The existing traditional system of government was totally castrated and basically non-existent. The language of instruction was the English Language. The Southern Protectorate was an absolute British colony.

The Indirect Rule System was implemented in the Northern Protectorate. The British signed a pact with the Sultan of Sokoto and other major Emirs with an understanding that even if the British were in charge, Caliphate officials would exercise the powers of direct administration on the larger populace but answerable to the British. As a result of this, the traditional government of the Sultan, Emirs and Serikis were not dismantled but rather strengthned. The British administered the traditional councils while those in turn administered the people. The language of instruction was the Hausa Language. The Northern Protectorate was never a true colony of the British. They dealt with the British on a quasi-equal terms as a Vassal State and not a Colony.

The British left and the Northern Protectorate simply reverted to the pre-existing arrangement; Nigeria with the Southern Protectorate was an unexpected bonus. The comment made by Ahmadu Bello on October 12th, 1960 in the Parrot lends credence to this:

"Nigeria is the estate of our grandfather Usman Dan Fodio. We shall use the ethnic minorities in the North as a willing tool to to dominate the South. We shall not allow the South to rule over us nor have control over their destiny."

Recall the traditional system of government in the Southern Protectorate had been all but destroyed. The exit of the British provided no succour. The Southern Protectorate has been without an effective system of governance and control since 1897 while the North simply waxes stronger. The merger of the two as a single country gives an undue advantage to the Northern side. They have a system which is lacking in the South. The South has tried to make up for this by adopting the British system wholly. That has been fraught with challenges as it is obvious the Southern side of Nigeria lacks an organized governance structure.

The amalgamation of the protectorate in 1914 was a great error as two very different countries were merged as one with an artificial common destiny. The result has been devastating. The two countries have struggled to find a bearing in 103 years of existence. Lives have been lost and the Human Development Index is one of the lowest in the world!

That's why Nigerian is not working and the South is bearing the brunt. What do we do?

(to be continued)

http://ikengachronicles.com/nigeria-contradictions-part-1/

For those of you who have attempted to use the sad state of Nigeria and, perhaps, a few other African countries, to justify and rationalize what is on its face the most grotesque and egregious case of bone-deep racism and xenophobia, the problem with your argument is that it fails to take into account a long historical background to Donald Trump's racism.

Granted, if anybody else, if Barack Obama, had used those same derogatory slurs for Africa, it would not have provoked as much reaction and backlash. But here you have a man who all his life has not only expressed, but has also practiced, his racial animus against Black people and anybody who does not look like him. Here you have a man who would discriminate against Black people in housing and renting. He would not rent to Black people and would mark a 'C' for colored on any nonwhite housing application. He was severally sued for it, and severally found to have done so by the courts, and ordered to pay damages.

So, there is a history here. It is that history that those of us on this side of the argument are looking at. His shithole shenanigan is not an isolated behavior. But even for argument sake, even assuming that this is a one-off isolated behavior, the comment is still a textbook definition of racism. Notice that he didn't just voice his hatred for Haitians, Salvadorans, and Africans, whom he called shithole countries, Donald Trump in that same meeting expressed his preference for white European immigrants. He stated that America should be accepting immigration only from countries like Norway, not Black shithole countries.

But besides saying that Haiti, El Salvador, and African nations are "shithole countries," Trump also recently said in a closed-door meeting about immigration that all Haitians "have AIDS" and that once Nigerians saw the U.S. they would never "go back to their huts." (forgetting that Nigerian immigrants are, in fact, the most educated group in the U.S., surpassing white and Asian people.)

About Black people, according to the 1991 book, "Trumped", Donald Trump said that Black people were inherently lazy and that he disliked having accountants who were Black. "Black guys counting my money! I hate it," Trump said. "The only kind of people I want counting my money are short guys that wear yarmulkes everyday." He went on, "I think that the guy is lazy, and it’s probably not his fault because laziness is a trait in Blacks. It really is, I believe that. It’s not something they can control."

What about the Central Park Five? After four Black teenagers and a Latino teen were charged with the brutal rape and beating of a woman in 1989, Trump took a full-page ad in four newspapers calling for the reinstatement of the death penalty. The teens, known as the Central Park Five, were exonerated in 2002 after a convicted murderer and rapist confessed to the crime. The man's confession was corroborated through DNA evidence, and the authorities never found forensic evidence that connected the Central Park Five to the rape.

But even after it was proven that the men were innocent, throughout the years Trump has continued to say they're guilty. And as recent as October 2016, Trump still believes the Central Park Five are guilty, even though the men have been exonerated by the legal system.

What about Native Americans? In 1993, Trump testified at a hearing held by the House Native American Affairs subcommittee, which at the time was investigating organized crime in Native American casinos. Without offering proof, Trump told lawmakers it was "obvious" that the Mafia had infiltrated the casinos. "They don’t look like Indians to me," he said. "They don’t look like Indians to Indians." And during the 2016 presidential campaign, and now as president, Trump has called Sen. Elizabeth Warren "Pocahontas" as a way to mock her claim of Native American heritage. Native Americans have said the term is derogatory over and over again, but that hasn't stopped Donald Trump from using it, even in front of Navajo veterans last November.

Don't forget his hatred for Muslims. In late 2015, Trump called for "a total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States until our country's representatives can figure out what is going on."

Trump also insulted a Muslim Gold Star family in 2016. Capt. Humayun Khan, a Muslim Army captain, was killed in Iraq in 2004. His parents Khizr and Ghazala Khan appeared at the Democratic National Convention, where Khizr gave a speech in which he said Trump had never sacrificed anything and offered to lend the then-candidate his pocket-sized version of the U.S. Constitution.

Trump criticized them and said Khizr delivered the speech because Ghazala wasn't "allowed" to speak. "If you look at his wife, she was standing there. She had nothing to say. She probably — maybe she wasn’t allowed to have anything to say, you tell me,” Trump said to ABC News. Ghazala Khan wrote in an op-ed that her husband asked whether she wanted to speak at the convention, but she chose not to because it was too upsetting.

Of course, his hatred for President Obama. For five years, Donald Trump was the most vocal supporter of a conspiracy theory falsely claiming that President Obama was not born in the United States — even after the White House released Obama's birth certificate proving he was indeed born in Hawaii. It took until September 2016 for him to disavow the theory. However, since then he has questioned once again the authenticity of Obama's birth certificate in private conversations. Also, he doubted that Obama went to Harvard, demanding that Obama release his transcripts. That Obama was the first black editor of the Harvard Law Review was of no consequence to Donald Trump.

And how can anyone forget how Donald Trump launched his presidential campaign in 2015? His speech, where he decried Mexicans as rapists, caused instant outrage. "When Mexico sends its people, they're not sending their best," he said, before adding, "They're bringing drugs. They're bringing crime. They're rapists. And some, I assume, are good people."

In 2016, Trump attacked Gonzalo Curiel, a federal judge from Indiana born to Mexican parents who presided over two Trump University lawsuits. Trump said Curiel should recuse himself from the trial, because he was biased. "He’s a Mexican," he said. "We’re building a wall between here and Mexico." Even House Speaker Paul Ryan called the remarks against Curiel a "textbook definition of a racist comment."

What about Donald Trump's shameful display of racism in the aftermath of the August 11 and 12 violence in Charlottesville, Virginia that took the life of one and injured dozens of others? A man who would not condemn a David Duke KKK neo-Nazi white supremacist violence, choosing instead to draw silly moral equivalency and spread blames on both sides. So, there is a history here.

I can understand the politics of your argument because I know your politics. All of you, Nigerians, who have attempted to justify and rationalize Donald Trump's blatant racism in calling the African continent shithole countries, are anti-Buharists. You hate Buhari, and you see Trump's racist attack as a jab on the Buhari government and its dismal performance. It is the classic enemy of my enemy is my friend. That's ok, I have no major problem with that kind of attitude. You are entitled to dislike Buhari. I'm not sure I like him either. But it is totally disingenuous and, frankly, irresponsible to make common cause with a bigoted racist, whose Hitlerian contempt and hate for nonwhite humanity has no equal, just because you don't like the current government in Nigeria.

Buhari and his incompetence and ineptitude is an internal matter. We will deal with it internally. I'm sure Nigerians are looking forward to 2019 to deal with it. But we have an external enemy here. And like the Igbo say, let's first rescue the chicken by wading off the kite and then return to chastise the chicken for wandering too far outback.

http://ikengachronicles.com/explaining-trumps-shithole-racism-buharis-nigerians/

Chief Lai Mohammed might be right. Mr President may be in the UK but his medicine may be made in Nigeria. We are too quick to pry into the intent of our leaders and fall in our own ignorance. Chief Mohammed, experienced as a father and elder statesman knows a lot that many people who are currently screaming on social media may never know in a lifetime. He is privy to the itinerary of Mr President. He can tell when a doctor decides to stop administering foreign drugs for Nigerian medicine.

Most of you are so blinded that you do not know that Nigeria makes drugs. If you walk around Lagos often, you must have come across drug sellers who can cure 50 ailments with a tiny drop of concoction. The brilliant minds responsible for this, sometimes suffer because western education has blinded the people to the potency of what is made here. Mr President who the entire 170 million Nigerians wish well could decide to leave Nigeria for great treatment but he could have taken a bottle of native medicine and dropped it in his bag. This way, he gets to find out the potency of the powerful drug and when it works, he could use his office to announce subtly that we are such amazing people. The President too may be shy. He pays Lai to do his image work for him.

I feel this country would be great. And the people who are Nigeria’s enemies are those who can’t see that we are heading to the Promised Land, one step at a time with the current APC-led government.

http://ikengachronicles.com/mr-liar-mohammed-and-made-in-nigeria-drugs-for-buhari-bura-bari-nwilo/

Memory is important. Ncheta di nkpa. O di oke nkpa.

In the preceding essays, I had sought to draw attention to the unraveling of the cultural fiber of the Igbos. Using key totems and substantive pillars as metaphors, I sought to highlight how much ground the Igbos had lost in the past 50 years.

As I had argued elsewhere, it is profoundly disturbing that virtually all the pillars holding the Igbo house is in tatters. All symbols of greatness, affluence, industry, and learning among the Igbos are in decline, retreat and facing existential threats.

How then do we reclaim our pride as a people to take our rightful place under the sun? In the next 12 essays, I propose a few ideas worthy of thoughtful consideration and implementation.

First, we must remember. Yes, we must take stock of what happened in 1966-70, who did what to us, and account for what we have done and/or failed to do in the aftermath of the genocide of the Igbos in 1966-70.

If the Biafran genocide was the equivalent of an air crash, our attitude suggests that no search for the black box would be conducted. No interviews of the air controllers would take place. The survivors would not be asked questions. NOTHING, Absolutely NOTHING would be done to ascertain the cause of the crash.

50 YEARS after the civil war, it is embarrassing and shameful that we still do not have a definitive account of how and why we lost the war. 50 years after the civil war and genocide of at least 3 million Igbos, we still have not interrogated the facts and circumstances of that great tragedy.

What are the causes and factors that made the Igbos lose out? If we could lose a bloody civil war at a period when we were culturally much stronger, militarily experienced, and politically more cohesive than we are today, what current factors compensate for the weaknesses of today?

By 1960, the Igbos had not only matched the Yorubas in education but had in fact surpassed per capita in terms of graduates from universities across the world. At a time when Zaire had less than 25 university graduates to run a country larger than France and Germany combined, Igboland had produced hundreds of Ph.Ds in various disciplines. By the 1960s, Igbos had more than 1/3 of the officer corps of the Nigerian Armed Forces.

An Igboman, Major-General Aguiyi Ironsi was the highest ranking Black military officer in Africa. Culturally, the Igbos were excelling in music, sports, arts, and in the humanities. Politically, the Eastern Region was cohesive, and with peace in the southern, eastern, and western flanks, the Eastern Region represented a formidable entity. But we lost! Why? Have those variables responsible for the loss changed?

I argue that the time is long overdue for a post-mortem of the Biafran project. Much of what we have today in the name of accounts of the Biafran tragedy are no better than hagiographic babble and sugar-coated tall tales. It is significant that not even in graduate schools in Nigeria do we have courses or seminars devoted to a critical analyses of the Biafran tragedy. More than 80% of Nigerians aged 20 and below have no clue about the Biafran tragedy. There is no war fought in the western world in the past 2000 years which has not been studied and documented by Western scholars. None. Even the military manouvres in those wars are well documented.

If the Biafran tragedy had occurred in North America or Europe, I am certain that all facets of that tragedy would have been studied, analyzed, and appropriate lessons learned. But we forget too often and very early too.

Another level of amnesia is the disregard with which we have treated those who were massacred, murdered, or raped or dehumanized in that war. The Biafran war was arguably one of the worst in terms of the egregious war crimes committed against innocent civilians.

Even before the formal declaration of armed conflicts, hundreds of thousands of Igbos had been slaughtered in pogroms across the northern parts of the country. During the conflict itself, innocent women, children, and the elderly were routinely massacred in Umunede, Asaba, Owerri, Onitsha, Aba, et cetera. What happened to those grounds where their blood was shed? Nothing.

50 years after the Biafran tragedy, the victims remain nameless, faceless, and forgotten. No accountability, no justice done to them, not even a memorial service. The sites where their blood soaked the soil remain unhallowed. Not even schools in the South-east mention the Biafran tragedy in any school subject or course. Drive or walk round Igboland and there is not even a piece of stone to commemorate any of the many grounds where unarmed Igbos were massacred, and in some case buried alive.

I argue that if we must forward, we can and should do better in this regard. Ohanaeze or any Igbo umbrella organization should as a matter of urgency organize a yearly remembrance for those who were murdered in that conflict. We need to know who they were and give them a measure of dignity and honour.

And this brings me to the issue of war criminals and crimes of war committed during the Biafran tragedy. Again, we have been remiss. It is beyond belief that no one, not even a dead war criminal, has been brought to book for the egregious war crimes committed against millions of Biafrans circa 1966-1970.

A judicial account of war crimes is NOT a matter of vengeance. It is an issue of justice. It is a matter of high principle. Whether it was the food blockade (a war crime and a crime against humanity), massacres, mass rapes, et cetera, it is my respectful submission that sweeping those crimes under the carpet in the name of “no victor, no vanquished” is extremely irresponsible. Those who have kept quiet have also abetted the irresponsibility itself.

The fourth layer of worrisome amnesia is the neglect of those who gave their lives to the struggle, especially those scientists, technologists, and innovators who pushed the boundaries of technology in the most difficult circumstances. What happened to the Roy Umenyis, Ezekwems, et cetera?

With the exception of Ola Ndi Igbo, very little has gone the way of those giants by way of recognition. This phenomenon should worry any right-thinking person. If we are quick to forget the great engineers who made great inventions from nothing, what credibility should be attached to any claims made by...

READ MORE: http://ikengachronicles.com/ncheta-na-amamihe-of-amnesiacs-accountability-and-the-biafran-question/

The Senator representing Kogi West Senatorial District, Senator Dino Melaye has advised Professor Itse Sagay to desist from making professional utterances when he is intoxicated with alcohol.

Senator Melaye offered this piece of invaluable advice in a message he sent out to the media Wednesday evening.


Professor Itse Sagay, who is the chairman of the Presidential Advisory Committee Against Corruption (PACAC) has come under fire severally for making inflammatory comments, and at one time publicly stating that the Senate has no rights whatsoever to summon him. His utterances have led to him being cautioned by the ruling All Progressives Congress (APC), as the legal practitioner’s comments are seen as capable of heating up the polity.

In his own way, Senator Dino Melaye has offered a candid advice to the self styled human rights activist, in order to help him avoid getting into trouble. According to Senator Melaye;


“[My] advice to Prof. Itse Sagay [is] when you drink don’t talk, when you talk don’t drink”

Professor Sagay is one of President Buhari’s key appointments, as the president seeks to fight corruption to a standstill in the country....

http://ikengachronicles.com/dont-talk-when-you-are-drunk-dino-melaye-advises-prof-itse-sagay/

General Olusegun Obasanjo speaks fluent Yoruba. Yes, he does. Nobel laureate Wole Soyinka is a wordsmith in English language but he also speaks and writes impeccable Yoruba. Otunba Subonmi Balogun, Mike Adenuga, Femi Otedola, are some of the wealthiest Nigerians of Yoruba extraction and they all speak Yoruba fluently. All of them can speak Yoruba for 5 minutes without injecting a single English word. Their children too, all speak Yoruba fluently.

It is rare to find any Igboman or woman who can speak Igbo fluently for 2 minutes without injecting English words. Even the most educated Yorubas schooled in Cambridge, or Oxford or Durham or Yale or Harvard or Princeton or in all these great institutions combined speak fluent Yoruba. They are assured, rooted, and unapologetic about who they are and of their place in the panoply of nations.

Fast forward now to the Igboid peoples and their relationship with Igbo language. A disaster unfolds. Rare is the Igbo who can converse in private or address a gathering of 2 or more in Igbo for 2 minutes without injecting one or more English words. More than 3/4 of the children of Igbo elite cannot stand before a crowd of 2 in their villages and address the crowd in Igbo language for 2 minutes.

The shamelessness, even pride, with which some Igbo parents in Aba, Enugu, Umuahia, Owerri, et cetera announce to their peers that their children raised in Igboland “anaghi anu Igbo” confirms to me that the Igbo are in a state of crises. In many Igbo homes, it is forbidden to speak Igbo!

The language of the Igbo, asusu Igbo, an onomatopoeiac and yet mellifluous language of the wise and sagacious, is in the death throes. No major ethnic group anywhere in the world faces the same lingual crises as the Igbo. The data and social phenomena are damning and ominous. The mother tongue is learnt at home, that is why it is called the mother tongue.

Consider these facts: in 50 years, Igbo language, will be almost extinct; never to be spoken or heard in large numbers anywhere in the world. UNESCO warns that unless urgent and realistic efforts are made today, within the next 2 generations, asusu Igbo ga abu ihe nwuru anwu.

Among the Igboid peoples aged 15 and below less than 12% can speak Igbo. Among those aged 25 and 16, less than 20% can converse in Igbo. The disaster cuts across economic and class barriers. Neither the children of the wretched poor in the cities nor the scions of the filthy rich have been spared.

A child learns his/her native language at home. In many Igbo homes, the language of communication is a mutilated version of English language. “Oya, junior, go and chop your breakfast” is neither English nor Igbo. Mass self deportation, a degraded and debased culture, palpable sense of inferiority, and a bizarre belief that the foreign is better have all conspired to ensure that Igbo language is on the path towards extinction. This is a self-inflicted tragedy.

Okay, let me come and be going.

But first, it must be understood that the survival of a people is inextricably tied to the health of its language. The human brain thinks in language patterns. The end product of a people’s civilization is carried in its language. When the language dies, the civilization atrophies and is only fit for the museum.

Second, language matters a lot. There is no separatist movement which can survive sans its language. Not one. With the imminent extinction of Igbo language, thousands of human experience, cultures, and understandings of the workings of the universe are imperiled.

Third, as the ultimate carrier, transmitter, and repository of a people’s culture, the death of a language is an unmitigated disaster. And to those who believe that they can be...

http://ikengachronicles.com/reggae-in-my-blues-wait-let-me-come-and-be-going-ndigbo-na-asusu-igbo/

According to a reveal-it-all report signed and made available to journalists by Temisan Oritsejolomi who is the Spokesman of Delta Youths Vanguard, Asaba said, “Immediately Gov. Okowa won the gubernatorial election and settled down to form a government, Hon. Monday Igbuya was not his dream choice for Speaker of the State’s House of Assembly. He had another choice. The de-facto Speaker, Hon. Michael Diden, aka Ejele was instrumental in convincing Okowa to allow Igbuya. It is only an accident of fact that chief James Onanefe Ibori and Dr. Ighoyota Amori supported Hon. Monday Igbuya to emerge. Hon. Michael Diden convinced Gov. Okowa that he (Ejele) will be able to control Igbuya since both of them (Ejele and Igbuya) are friends.”

It reveal in full thus, “However, the first storm Ejele ran into with the House of Assembly, Hon. Igbuya did not treat Hon. Michael Diden ( Ejele) as friend . It took the intervention of Gov. Okowa to price Ejele free. From that point, Hon. Michael Diden declared Hon. Monday Igbuya his enemy. Gov. Okowa was to remind Ejele that he has warned him that Igbuya cannot be trusted. He (Okowa) now fashioned a way to strangulate Igbuya.

“Gov. Okowa funds the State House of Assembly with DESOPADEC with Hon. Michael Diden (Ejele) as the links man and storage tank. Any money released to DESOPADEC is wired back into Ejele’s personal account to be disbursed to House of Assembly members without Igbuya’s input. The only money released to Igbuya is security vote which has been drastically down to almost nothing. So Hon. Monday Igbuya was a lame duck Speaker . This is the reason why Igbuya could not respond when he learnt that Ejele was distributing money to House members on behalf of the governor. When Hon. Michael Diden was giving out money to House members, he told them it was his personal money he was distributing to the House members which is far from the truth.

“Gov. Okowa arrived Lagos at 5pm on the 6th of May, 2016 and drove straight to hold a meeting with Hon. Iredi. Hon. Iredi was officially having a function in Lagos. As soon as Gov. Okowa arrived, he called Hon. Friday Osanebi , Deputy Speaker of the Delta State House of Assembly to join him in Lagos. Osanebi made frantic calls to his fellow House members throughout Saturday at the direction of the governor and met Gov. Okowa at 10pm at Government Lodge in Lagos where the arrangement was finallised. All i’s were dotted and all t’s crossed. Gov. Okowa warned Hon. Osanebi that the impeachment move must not be traced to him(Okowa) . Osanebi relocated to Asaba to execute the plot .

“A meeting was called in the house of Hon. Pat Ajudua. At the meeting, 22 members of the House of Assembly signed the impeachment notice. Hon. Tim Owhefere signed number 17 on the impeachment notice. Everybody was sworn to secrecy, but Hon. Tim Owhefere leaked the plot to the Speaker, Igbuya. Hon. Igbuya very quikly called a member of the House of Assembly and ordered him to go and remove the Maze. Igbuya did not know that the member was a Judas Iscariot. The member took the Maze to Hon. Friday Osanebi.

“Immediately, Friday Osanebi drove to the home of the Clerk of the House of Assembly in company of the Principal Secretary to the governor, Mr. Hilary Ibegbulem. Hon. Osanebi kidnapped the Clerk at 3am and at 6am, members invaded the Assembly for plenary from Osanebi’s house with the kidnapped Clerk. If Hon.Tim Owhefere had not informed Hon. Igbuya, he, (Igbuya) would have come ordinarily to preside over the House as always but the leakage by Hon. Tim Owhefere changed the plans. Tim Owhefere was suspended and removed from office for his betrayal. And of course, Okowa is....

READ MORE: http://ikengachronicles.com/how-gov-okowa-friday-osanebi-ploted-hon-igbuyas-impeachment-coup/

It appears anytime we try to solve one problem in Nigeria, we end up creating more problems and leave the original problem partly solved or totally unsolved. Why did I say so? Before the 1979 Constitution of Nigeria, we have no record to say that a government or any religious group was calling or lobbying for the adoption of a particular religion as our national religion. So, why was Section 10 introduced into the 1979 Constitution for the first time in the constitutional history of Nigeria by the Constituent Assembly of 1977-78? Was it introduced to make Nigeria a secular state? Was the section squarely introduced to prevent any government from ever imposing one religion on the Nigerian people or making it a theocracy? If the latter was the intention of the drafters of the Constitution, does Section 10 also forbid spending of state funds on religious matters by any Nigerian government or state involvement in religious affairs? Was it introduced in response to the agitation to give the Sharia Court of Appeal a national recognition in our Constitution which came up for the first time during this period as opposed to the erstwhile 1963 Republican Constitution that confined the existence of the Court to the Northern region?

After the Constitution Debate Coordinating Committee set up by a former Head of State, retired General Abdulsalam Abubakar, in 1998 reviewed the 1979 Constitution of Nigeria and found it suitable for adoption as the new Constitution to usher democracy afresh into Nigeria, it decided to update it and re-christen it as the 1999 Constitution. It is therefore little wonder, like so many other sections, that Section 10 in the old 1979 Constitution resurfaces also as Section 10 in the current 1999 Constitution of our country. Section 10 of the 1999 Constitution states: “The Government of the Federation or of a State shall not adopt any religion as State Religion.”

Our ability to decode what Section 10 really means as well as to define the scope of its application will help us to provide answers to some or all the questions raised above. However, it has remained a herculean task to find answers to all these questions as scholars, policy-makers, commentators, and other persons have ascribed different interpretations to the section. What does Section 10 mean? Unfortunately, no other section of the Constitution supplies us with any clues as to what it means and therefore, the section has been a subject of speculations and subjective interpretations. As if to compound the problem, no court in Nigeria has ever interpreted it, at least not to the knowledge of this writer. In order to overcome this challenge, the only choice that we have in the circumstance is to look at the plain meanings of the wordings of the section. I am of the opinion that the section simply means that no government in Nigeria, especially the federal and state governments, shall introduce any religion as the official religion of the people. Prohibition of an official state religion without more is not enough to tag Nigeria a secular state, although non-existence of a national religion is an important feature of a secular state. It is also correct to say that no state can claim to be secular, while it has an officially recognised national religion like Pakistan and Bangladesh.

However, some people interpret the section to mean that Nigeria is a secular state, while some others argue that Nigeria is not secular but a multi-religious state. A country is either a secular or theocratic state; almost all countries of the world are, as a matter of fact, multi-religious. Only few are mono-religious such as Saudi-Arabia and the Vatican where the citizens are 98%, if not 100%, Muslims or Christians. If the drafters of our Constitution had wanted a secular country, they would have made it clear. How would they have wanted a secular state with a constitution having a preamble that reads, “TO LIVE in unity and harmony as one indivisible and indissoluble Sovereign Nation under God…”? Apart from the fact that neither the federal government nor a state government has passed a law or made an official policy declaring a religion as the national or state religion, the section has not helped in any other way to tackle the secularity argument nor has it resulted in taking religion out of our public life. It is even doubtful if the drafters of the Constitution ever intended to prevent government involvement in religious matters in the first place. I think all that the drafters wanted was to prevent the adoption of any religion as the official religion or the turning of the country to a theocratic state. And even if they intended to prevent the rate at which governments at all levels are now involved in religious matters, unfortunately, that intention is not manifest anywhere in the Constitution just as the intention of a secular state cannot be inferred anywhere in the Constitution.

The fact that no previous Nigerian Constitution before 1979 had a similitude of Section 10 compels one to ask why, what prompted its introduction? Unfortunately, available records do not provide any answer. However, there are reports of heated debates and serious anxieties over the agitation for the introduction of Sharia Court of Appeal into the constitution between 1977 and 1978 while the Constituent Assembly was considering the draft constitution that a previous body, the Constitution Drafting Committee, (1976-77) had submitted to it. The Northern Muslim delegates had demanded that Sharia Court of Appeal should be created in all states of the federation through the constitution with a Federal Sharia Court of Appeal to act as the Supreme Court on Sharia matters. In previous Constitutions, Sharia Court of Appeal was restricted to the Northern region. The Southern delegates who were mostly Christians opposed the demand on the basis that Nigeria was a secular state. This was at a time when nothing like Section 10 had been written previously into any constitution in the country. The Northern Muslim delegates threatened a walk out and maintained that “no Sharia, no Nigeria”. Eventually, the impasse was resolved through a compromise tagged “the 1978 Solution”. It was the 1978 Solution that brought the Sharia Court of Appeal of a State and that of the Federal Capital Territory into the Nigerian Constitution for the first time but it was/is still only for a state that requires it and the jurisdiction of the court is limited to civil matters such as marriage, succession, and divorce involving Muslims or non-Muslims who consent. Whether this incident has anything to do with the incursion of Section 10 into our Constitution is still not clear.

Late Chief Rotimi Williams, SAN, one of the drafters of the 1979 Constitution in his lecture titled, “Christians and the Sharia Issue” in 2002, said, “Nigeria has a substantial moslem (sic) population but it is not an Islamic State. It is a secular state in accordance with the provisions of our Constitution. It cannot be otherwise unless there is a forcible imposition of the religion of Islam on the non-muslims (sic) of this country.” With great respect to the eminent lawyer, his assertion that Nigeria is a secular state is not different from what other persons who share the same opinion have said. Calling Nigeria a secular state without any evidence to back it up other than Section 10 cannot make the country one, no matter how many times it is said or who says it.

Section 10 would have been much more useful and meaningful, if it had been more elaborate so that we will know what it actually means and the scope of what either the federal or state government can do or not do in relation to religion. The section does not mention local government tier at all as if it does not exist or as if that tier of government is not capable of doing what the section tries to prevent. But that is even another issue on its own which should better be reserved for a different discourse. As it is, the section is only clear and unambiguous to the point that it forbids the imposition of any religion on the people and nothing more.

What does a secular state mean? A secular state is simply a country where government is neutral on religious matters. The concept of secular state is usually employed as a tool to prevent religious persecution or domination in a multi-religious setting like Nigeria. By the nature of Nigeria’s plural religious make-up, one of the best remedies against religious acrimony, mutual suspicion among various religious interests, and government involvement in matters of faiths is a secular system. Unfortunately, Nigeria is, by law and practice, not a secular State.

However, being a secular state does not mean that such state must not recognise religion at all. It does not also mean that citizens’ right to freedom of religion and worship will not be recognised. It is not an irreligious or Godless state. Right to freedom of religion is a universal right, though in theocratic states like Saudi-Arabia religious right is seriously curtailed. Muslims cannot change their faith, while non-Muslims must not openly profess or preach their faith. While a secular state will not use state funds to support religious activities, will not identify with any religion and may not allow religious education in its schools, citizens have right to practise their religions as they like within the limits of law. Anyway, absolute rights exist nowhere, not even in a non-secular state like Nigeria. Contrary to the argument that Nigeria could not have been a secular state without the use of the word “secular” anywhere in our Constitution, it is possible to have a secular state without the word “secular” found anywhere in the Constitution, although it is better with it. What is important is the intention manifested in the constitution but such is not the case with Nigeria. Where intentions of the drafters of a statute are unclear, judicial authorities may resort to the mischief rule of interpreting laws which allows them to put into account the rationale and history behind a law or statutory provisions in order to give effect to the intentions of the lawmakers. Unfortunately again, there is no account of any history behind the introduction of Section 10 into the 1979 Constitution, now in Section 10 of the 1999 Constitution. However, I reiterate my conviction that the wordings of Section 10 are clear and the intention which can be inferred from it is that the drafters intended to prohibit adoption of any religion as a state religion in Nigeria.

The debate whether Nigeria is secular or not usually takes religious dimension, given that the two dominant religions in the country, Christianity and Islam, and their adherents are often at each other’s throats. The argument that Nigeria is secular is more attractive to the Christians, while the reverse position is more appealing to the Muslims. The impression that such divide portrays is that Islam is incompatible with secularism, while the Christians believe that the only safeguard they have against Islamisation and domination within the Nigerian space is secularism. It is often posited by the Muslims that Nigeria is a multi-religious state and not secular. The Muslims are right to the point that Nigeria is not a secular state but I strongly believe that one of the things that can make Nigeria better, a country devoid of religious acrimony and rivalry, is a true system of secularism, adopted through the amendment of our Constitution. This is the only guarantee that our country has against unhealthy and over-religionised public space that pervades our lives. For secularism to sanitise our public space, both government and civil societies will need to embark on deliberate enlightenment programs designed to make the people embrace acceptable and civilised ways of exercising religious right in a secular environment. When Nigeria is truly secularised, both the Muslims and the Christians, are sure to lose a number of privileges. Religious houses in public institutions will have to close up as well as the stoppage of government involvement in holy pilgrimages. The unwritten rule that if a president is a Muslim, vice-president must be a Christian must equally stop. These are just few instances of the foray of religion into the Nigerian public space. Secular societies protect religious right to the extent that the right is exercised within the confines of law, public order, and decency.

India provides a perfect example of a secular state for Nigeria to copy. Unlike the preamble to the Nigerian Constitution, the preamble to the 92nd Amended Constitution of India reads, “WE, THE PEOPLE OF INDIA, having solemnly resolved to constitute India into a SOVEREIGN SOCIALIST SECULAR DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC and to secure all its citizens…” As if to further demonstrate its resolve for secularism, Article 25 of the Indian Constitution states, “(1) Subject to public order, morality and health and to the other provisions of this Part, all persons are equally entitled to freedom of conscience and the right freely to profess, practise and propagate religion. (2) Nothing in this article shall affect the operation of any existing law or prevent the State from making any law – (a) regulating or restricting any economic, financial, political or other secular activity which may be associated with religious practice… ”

There is nothing more fallacious than the claim that Islam is incompatible with secularism. Some countries in Africa, Asia, and Europe, though dominated by Muslim population, have vindicated the position that a Muslim country can embrace secular governance. Two shining examples of such countries are Turkey and Senegal. It is common knowledge that most countries dominated by Christians are usually secular. Even if some of them are not fully secular, they certainly do not parade religion in the public arena the way we do in Nigeria. If Muslims in some countries can embrace secularism, Nigerian Muslims cannot afford to view the concept of secularism as if it is anti-Islam. Secularism is the only way to go in a multi-religious setting.

Turkey is reputed to be 99% Muslims, yet it is a secular country. Paragraph 5 of the preamble to the Constitution of the Republic of Turkey reads, “That no protection shall be accorded to an activity contrary to Turkish national interests, Turkish existence and the principles of its indivisibility with its State and territory, historical and moral values of Turkishness; nationalism, principles, reforms and civilisationism of Ataturk and that sacred religious feelings shall absolutely not be involved in state affairs and politics as required by the principle of secularism.” Article 2 of its Constitution also states, “The Republic of Turkey is a democratic, secular and social state governed by rule of law…” The words “Islam” or “Sharia” or any religion are found nowhere in the Turkish Constitution.

What will Nigeria lose by becoming a secular state? It has a few things to lose but a lot more to gain. Having stated that one of the antidotes to perennial religious conflicts is secularism which, for me, is a huge benefit, it is necessary to consider a few things that will have to change once secularism is embraced as it should in Nigeria. Some existing Nigerian laws tainted with religious influences, either Christianity or Islam, will have to be reviewed and brought in compliance with secular principles. For instance, the Nigerian anti-same sex marriage law may have to be reversed because a secular state will not outlaw an act on account of religious sensibilities. The Penal Code which applies in the Northern part will have to be reviewed. Adultery and alcoholic consumption which are offences under the Code will have to be decriminalised. The place of Sharia law in a secular Nigeria will also have to be reconsidered. Even if the civil aspect of Sharia law is allowed to stay, the criminal aspect will be totally incompatible with secularism. As the Nigerian Constitution is today with its non-secular, or at best quasi-secular, status, the 1999-decision of Zamfara State and other states like it remains a serious violation of the Constitution which disallows the implementation of the criminal aspect of Sharia law. Although Sharia law has been in the Northern Nigeria even long before the advent of colonialism, its criminal aspect had been stopped for decades before the Zamfara State Government re-introduced it.

In a secular Nigeria, the wearing of religious dresses is not likely to remain as it is now. There are cases of Muslim women who now wear a veil that covers their faces completely in public places such as schools, hospitals, and other government establishments. While I am of the opinion that all the court judgments which interpreted the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion to include the right of Muslim women to wear their religious veils in public space are justified under the present state of the Nigerian Constitution, I strongly believe that they cannot stand in a secular Nigeria. However, wearing of such religious dresses may be allowed in public places under a secular system as long as those who wear them are not public servants or students in public schools.

Most European countries are secular, despite their huge Christian population. Secularism now gains popularity and acceptance widely in Europe because of the monumental havoc which the fusion of church and state had once wrecked in that part of the world. Between 1618 and 1648, there was a bloody war in Europe. The war had its root causes in the involvement of church and religious leaders in the political leadership of Europe with the aftermath of widespread religious oppression and persecution of fringe religious sects. At the end of the 30-year war, the Peace of Westphalia was signed and it was this that marked the birth of secularism in Europe. This is Europe that still has religious demographics of 70% Christians and 30% of other religions. A repeat of such protracted religious war has not occurred in Europe since 1648 largely because of the separation that now exists between the church and the state. A multi-religious country like Nigeria where demographics of the Christians and the Muslims are reportedly put at 45% and 50% respectively with a pocket of other faiths needs secularism much more and in fact, urgently so! What is needed in a secular state is not the absence of individuals’ right to practise their faith but the curtailment of state involvement in matters of religion and prohibition of the use of state apparatus to advance the cause of any particular religious creed.

It, therefore, does no harm to us, if our Sections 10 and 38 are amended. New Section 10 should read thus, “The Federal Republic of Nigeria is a secular state and the State shall not be associated with any religion but shall actively protect the right of all citizens and persons to hold and practise the religion of their choice subject to such limits that this Constitution or other laws may stipulate”. Our Section 38, on the other hand, which deals with right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion and which currently has four subsections will have to be amended by creating a new subsection (5) to read, “Nothing in this section shall entitle any person to carry on his or her religion in a manner inconsistent with democratic values and secular principles which form the foundations of our national life.” With these amendments, Nigeria shall become a true secular state even if the preamble to the Constitution is left as it is.

http://ikengachronicles.com/god-in-the-public-space-and-the-nigerian-constitution/

and yet again we are back to the matter of where our “youths” the future of our tomorrow stands in the Nigerian political genre of today? A future that has been hijacked and constantly defined and re-defined by those who feel Nigeria is their personal property. Recently there has been a trickling but noticeable movement of politicians from PDP to APC (and probably vice Versa) in preparation for the pending 2019 elections. It seems we are set on another bout of recycled political personnel who I will refer to as “dinosaurs” for clarity.

This was not the plan when we raised the flag to fight corrupt practices that had become the norm in Nigeria via the Buhari and Osinbajo’s leadership. For many who supported the current administration, It was an opportunity to lay a better corrupt free foundation for the up and coming “youths” to build upon. However, so far so good, things are slowly looking up. Not as great as we expected with regard to actually prosecuting the culprits, to serve as a deterrent and set precedent within the court of law. But Nigeria has without any doubt changed from what it used to be.

It would be safe and fair to say that there has not been such a meticulous battle to recover Nigerian monies the way the present administration have done since independence. It is obviously a new innovation that brought about a magnitude of resistance hence, the not so straight-forward result.

Now let’s talk about the more important matter of how we transition from the old ways to a new political framework that eliminates social status requirements, God-father endorsements and “egunje” activities to gain unfair voting points by those whose names are forever dominant in the political realm of Nigeria.

My first question(s) are where are these so called “youths” we keep talking about? 2019 is just around the corner and I have not seen any potential youth aspiring or making a reliable pledge to lead Nigeria out of our current predicament. Are they even ready to take on the dinosaurs and their deeply rooted pack in Nigeria? What are their values? I ask again, who are they?

So the next set of questions would be; how do we go about mobilising our political youth who wish to reform our beloved nation? How do we bring them forward for acceptance? How do we move ourselves out of the Stone Age to the 21st century? The answer lies with us; the “Nigerian people”. Sometimes a community has to come together and seek out a potential leader of their choice, rather than have one forced on them.

A community can sponsor a promising candidate if they want to. It depends on how desperate they are. Besides we are more in numbers than all politicians put together. We are also a federal state. Why not use the sub-governmental structure right from the lowest local government officials to our advantage? We can build it up from the grassroots until we finally take our nation back at federal level, from those holding on to it.

Bringing the youths into the equation will obviously take a lot planning, planning that should start from now. It is no child’s play and not for the faint hearted. I call it a “bloodless coup” because Nigeria’s transition is long overdue; it is our right and as such no one should lose their life in the process. We must come forward with a formidable force that has never been experienced in Nigeria before and that will take more than guts.

I reiterate that joining up with parties like APC and PDP et al will only make things worse and more so, continue to suffocate new bloods. We know what they are all about and encouraging the younger’s is not one of them. Nigeria runs a multi-party system and currently has “29 registered political parties” (including the popular APC & PDP). It makes you wonder why the others are grossly dormant? There is no legal limit to the amount of political parties we can have in Nigeria so why not jump in the deep-end and register another if the ones on ground are not accommodating?

We need to stop our passive attitude to matters that directly concern us and avoid playing into the hands of those who already know our predictable game moves. Whether we like it or not, we are collectively responsible for what happens in Nigeria.

Constant complaining about how our youths are being sidelined by current and previous governments without a feasible solution on ground or a foreseeable plan for the future is a complete waste of time. We’ve been doing that for too long. Sadly, we are a nation that truly sounds like a badly scratched record.

My final appeal goes thus:
If you are a “youth” as well as an aspiring politician, willing to give your all, to reform Nigeria, let us know who you are. Put yourself out in the public domain. Take a chance on the Nigerian people. 2019 is our time to make it right. We simply cannot afford to miss anymore opportunities…

http://ikengachronicles.com/2019-redefining-the-role-of-the-political-youth-in-nigeria/

The Peoples Democratic Party’s National Caretaker Committee (PDP-NCC) has described the release of 82 Chibok girls held captive by Boko Haram in the past three years as a welcome development.

In a press release issued by its National Publicity Secretary, Prince Dayo Adeyeye, the party said the ‘detention’ of the girls had brought untold pain not only to the families of the girls but the entire Nigerian citizenry. It however condemned the manner in which freedom for the girls was procured by government.

“The release of 82 Chibok girls is a welcome development. The capture and detention of these girls by the Boko Haram terrorists in the last three years had brought extreme pain and suffering not only to their families but to the people of this country and men and women of goodwill all over the world. What is however of great concern is the price paid to secure the release of the girls.

“According to reports , the girls were released in exchange for the release of suspected Boko Haram terrorists. If that is the case we say it’s a heavy price to pay and an unusual one at that,” the statement reads.

The party advanced reasons why exchanging innocent girls for a bunch of criminals was a grave error on the part of government:

“While we welcome the release of the girls, we do not think that exchanging innocent girls for hardened criminals like the terrorists is the right approach for the following reasons:

“The suspected terrorists by the release have escaped justice. And all the effort made by security agencies to bring them to book has come to nothing. The release of the terrorists is a setback for the war on insurgency.

“Their release is tantamount to releasing them to resume their war against society. Many of them could find their ways back to the terrorists camps from where they could unleash terror against the country. Others who are allowed to roam freely in society could become veritable recruiting agents and purveyors of suicide bombing and urban terrorism.

“The Boko Haram terrorists are emboldened to continue with their tactics of kidnapping innocent people with the belief that they can always use it to blackmail the government to release their members and to extract other concessions.

“The piece meal release of the girls means the terrorists want to extract more concessions from the government which in the end can only prolong the insurgency. The release of the girls will increase the agony and high expectancy of the remaining girls still in custody of the terrorists and their families who will be wondering why they have not been so lucky. It therefore would have been better to ensure the release of all the girls at once.

“The negotiations are in clear violation and indeed a direct assault on the generally accepted international principle never to negotiate with terrorists. This international principle is sound and logical because negotiation with the terrorists only fuels their urge to continue with their heinous crimes.”

While acknowledging the concern of President Muhammadu Buhari in ensuring the timely release of the girls, the PDP insists that there are options to explore rather than negotiating with the Boko Haram terrorists.

“We recognize the concern of President Buhari to ensure the earliest release of the Chibok girls for domestic and international considerations.

“We equally are very concerned about the safe return of the girls to their families at the earliest possible time. But we disagree that negotiating with the terrorists is the right approach to achieving the objective, ” the
party said



http://ikengachronicles.com/helpthey-have-kidnapped-nigeria/

Last night, the demi-gods in Aso Rock casually announced to Nigerians that the man they elected to be their president, who has not been part of any official function outside Aso Rock since the middle of January this year, has jetted out again for treatment, after having not been in charge since the beginning of this year. And as a final fling of mud on the faces of Nigerians, asserted that “The length of the President’s stay in London will be determined by the doctors.” Which is to say, “the man returns when he returns.”

That Nigerians voted a ghost worker into office, is something they are just beginning to comprehend, as they are completely at a loss as to who is running the affairs of the country.

If you have read Olusegun Adeniyi’s Power Politics And Death in Nigeria…, you would recall how hard Yar’adua’s close associates worked to deceive Nigerians about the late President’s true health status. The same tape is playing out under Buhari, only that this time, we have an antecedent to lean on. If anybody was ever in doubt as to who is actually in control, Friday’s incidence where Buhari asked about his official photographer Bayo(who had been relieved of his duty by the new powers that be), is ample proof that directives on the running of the country,which were purportedly coming from the man Nigerians elected, are not from him. In essence, Nigeria has been hijacked by a few people, whom Nigerians did not give the power to run their affairs.

But that is not all. This government has perfected the act of blatantly playing Nigerians as fools with no iota of wisdom at all.

Well aware that Nigerians had begun to question the whereabouts of their President, they quickly cobbled up the lie that the President came to the office on Tuesday and held briefings with the Group Managing Director of the Nigeria National Petroleum Corporation (NNPC), and the Attorney General of the Federation (AGF). Unlike their usual pattern, there were no photos to prove this meeting held. But to show that they lied, fate ensured that the President whom they announced resumed work on Tuesday effectively missed the media-covered Federal Executive Council meeting. When Nigerians asked, they lied that Mr. President could not come due to doctors’ orders that he rests.

They however sprung him on Friday, attending prayers at the Aso Rock mosque. This time around, the cameras appeared.Yet they were aware that the man needed to leave for London soon, and something else had to take away the attention. BANG! Chibok girls were released by Boko Haram. While we were celebrating their release, Nigeria’s President quickly sneaks into London, to take care of his dwindling health.

The simple fact however remains that anybody who genuinely wants the best for Nigeria will be calling for President Buhari’s resignation right now. For his sake and for the sake of Nigeria. The President needs to take care of himself and live for his family–that should be the first priority. All other persons insisting he must stay on hate him and Nigeria–it is purely about selfish reasons. If it isn’t purely about selfish reasons, then surely, such people must be aware that if Buhari steps down today, power will not go to the “corrupt” PDP. It will still be in the hands of the “incorruptible” APC, which will then be headed by the incomparable Professor Yemi Osinbajo. Kidnapping Nigeria, and holding her to ransom by forcing an incapacitated man on her as her President is not only criminal, but the height of wickedness and selfishness.

One fact remains though, and that is that in the end, Nigeria must win. This victory will either come through fate’s way of naturally correcting anomalies, or one day, the wool being pulled over the eyes of Nigerians will be forcibly pulled off by them, and they will revolt.


http://ikengachronicles.com/helpthey-have-kidnapped-nigeria/

“Nigeria is one indivisible and indissoluble sovereign state to be known by the name of the Federal Republic of Nigeria.” Section 2 (1) of the 1999 Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria

Since independence in 1960, no section of the country has agitated for separate existence more than the Igbos, but they were not the first ethnic group to make such demand. Isaac Adaka Boro, an Ijaw man, led a sizeable number of his Ijaw people to wage war against the government of Nigeria when the late General Aguiyi Ironsi, an Igbo, was the Head of State. He did this in order to carve out an independent republic for the Ijaw people of the Niger Delta. His troops were defeated and Boro, along with some of his lieutenants, was tried and convicted of treason.

Another incident that was close to the waging of war against the federal government was the treasonable trial of the foremost leader of the Yoruba, Chief Obafemi Awolowo and a number of his followers. The allegation against Awolowo was that he attempted to forcefully overthrow the Government of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, though not an attempt to carve an independent state for the Yoruba out of the country as Boro attempted.

However, the most far-reaching attempt at secession was the one led by late Col. Chukwuemeka Ojukwu between 1967 and 1970. The Federal Military Government under the then Head of State, General Yakubu Gowon, defeated the Biafran forces and today, the ethnic enclave regarded as Biafra is still part of the Federal Republic of Nigeria. Nevertheless, discontents, agitations, and complaints of injustice and marginalisation against Nigeria as presently constituted by different ethnic and regional groups that make up the country have not stopped.

There are groups in Yoruba land that have been calling for the restructuring of the country for many years, and ethnic groups in other parts of the country are making their demands too, but none has been more vociferous in their call for the dismemberment of Nigeria and creation of a separate and independent country than the Indigenous Peoples of Biafra (IPOB) under the leadership of Mr Nnamdi Kanu. It should be stated that while IPOB enjoys a substantial following in the Southeast of Nigeria, it is not the official mouthpiece of the region, unlike when Col. Ojukwu, as the Military Governor of the region, declared the State of Biafra in 1967. The region now has five states, namely Abia, Imo, Enugu, Anambra, and Ebonyi. Each of the states has its constituted authority. Till this moment, the governments of these states have not declared their intention to leave the federation nor demanded a separate entity out of Nigeria for their region.



In the light of the IPOB agitation, the question that arises is this: is secession lawful, whether under the Nigerian law or international law?

The Nigerian Constitution, the supreme law of the land, states that the Federal Republic of Nigeria shall be indivisible and indissoluble. The meaning is clear and unambiguous - secession is unlawful! But a question that readily comes to mind is: if a section of the country wishes to leave the federation, is it an offence or how can such a section achieve its wish? Although the Nigerian law does not declare secession an offence, it is also not a lawful act. It is an established fact that, by virtue of the Constitution, no action constitutes an offence, unless it is defined as one in a written law with punishment prescribed.

So, as long as secession is not stated to be an offence under any law in Nigeria, charging any person with it may not be more than an exercise in futility. Secession is only unlawful because the Constitution forbids attempts to dismember the Nigerian federation. However, no law provides a criminal consequence for an attempt by any section or group to secede. Anyway, there is no record of any country in the world where secession is criminalised.

In spite of the anti-secession posture of the Nigerian Constitution, secession can still occur in Nigeria. There are two ways by which this can happen, lawfully and unlawfully. First, the Constitution may be amended by creating conditions to be fulfilled by any component part that may wish to break away from the federation or by removing the words “indivisibility” and “indissolubility” from the Constitution. Second, through armed struggle, though unlawful, a region or section that wants to secede may achieve its goal. This is certainly a repeat of the civil war which will not be in the best interest of either the secessionist region or the rest of the country. The latter option is clearly a criminal act and the secessionist forces will be liable to criminal prosecutions and punishments, unless they succeed in their attempt to secede.

It will be recalled that the immediate past president, Dr Goodluck Jonathan, while setting up the National Conference of 2014, declared deliberations on the re-negotiation of the continued existence of Nigeria as a no-go area for the delegates. In fact, such stance was not peculiar to the Jonathan-led administration; successive Nigerian governments have consistently maintained the same position, proclaiming the unity of Nigeria as non-negotiable. The implicit implication of retaining the “indivisibility and indissolubility” clause in our Constitution is that it empowers the Federal Government to muster all efforts to counter any component part or group that ever attempts to dismember the country. However, it is imperative to note that nothing is as desirable as giving Nigerians the opportunity to discuss and agree on the conditions and terms of their togetherness. Anything short of that portends a frightening future for the country.

In view of the position maintained earlier in this article, a question that is likely to linger in the mind of a careful reader is: if secession is not an offence, why is the federal government putting Mr Kanu and his colleagues on trial for their secessionist agenda?

The simple answer is that Mr. Kanu and his colleagues are standing criminal trial for treasonable felonies and some other offences. If such words as “secession” or “proclamation of the Republic of Biafra” appear in the charges against them, it has to be in relation to acts of violence or threats of violence or unlawful possession of firearms in the course of their agitation for the Republic of Biafra. Secession in itself, for the sake of emphasis, is neither an offence nor a treason or treasonable felony under the Nigerian law as long as violence or possession of firearms is not involved. Section 41 of the Criminal Code Act, when closely read and accorded its ordinary meaning, does not criminalise secession. Rather, the Section criminalises intention or plan to overthrow a constituted authority such as the president or a governor. Secession does not have to involve overthrow of government or waging of war. However, I am equally aware that Kanu and his men are being tried under the same Section 41 and for this reason, I will not say anything more because it offends the principle of sub judice for me to do so.

Having discussed secession under the Nigerian law, I now move on to international law. International law represents statutes that set up certain international and regional organisations to which Nigeria is a member, such as international human rights treaties, conventions and the like. Those who argue in support of the existence of the right to secede under international law have always relied on the right to self-determination under some international treaties like the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights. Nigeria, though a member of the international community and signatory to a number of treaties, operates a dualist system, which means that no international treaty enjoys any status of enforceability within its territory, unless such a treaty has been domesticated by the National Assembly. One of the few treaties that have been so far domesticated is the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights. Article 20 of the Charter, in particular, provides for the right to self-determination. But what does this right mean? Does it include right to secede?

There is an extensive literature on the meaning and scope of the right to self-determination. Three interpretations are prevalent. One, it means the right of every State to self-rule. This applies to countries that are still subject to foreign domination or colonial rule. Two, it means the right of people in every country to participate in their own government. And three, it means the right of an oppressed and victimised people or ethnic group within an independent country to exit such State and form their own government. This is called a right to remedial secession under international law. This has played out in Eritrea which seceded from Ethiopia, Kosovo from Serbia, and South Sudan from Sudan. However, these countries only succeeded after many years of war and victimisation from their own parent countries. Can we say that the Igbo people have suffered deprivations and flagrant human rights violations from the Nigerian State which could be likened to the case of South Sudan or Kosovo? It is not entirely clear.

It is generally believed by many Nigerians, especially among those who are not of the Igbo extraction, that the deprivations and sufferings prevalent in Igbo land are replica of what the people of other ethnic groups are also experiencing. The failure of the Nigerian State is attributable squarely to the failure of leadership and pervasive corruption. There is little evidence to support the assertion that the people of the Eastern Nigeria have been singled out for persecution, human rights abuses, and other acts of injustice. The Igbo people are the ones ruling themselves in the Southeast, no imposition of rulers on them of persons outside their ethnic background and indigenes of the region are equally members of the federal government. For instance, Dr Ike Ekweremadu, the current Deputy Senate President, is an Igbo. The Igbo people, like other ethnic groups, have always occupied key positions in government at different times. To that extent, it cannot be said that the conditions that should precede agitation for break-up are in place. This is important if a break-away State will enjoy recognition among the comity of nations. The necessity of international relations in today’s world cannot be over-emphasized as no nation can exist in isolation.

However, the predominant view among the people of the Eastern Nigeria is that the Federal Republic of Nigeria has been incomparably unkind and unfair to their region. They complain of monumental environmental degradation due to erosion; marginalisation in sensitive political appointments and allocation of federal projects and institutions. In fact, just recently, a former national president of the Nigerian Bar Association, Dr Olisa Agbakoba, a Senior Advocate of Nigeria (SAN) and an Igbo, filed a fundamental rights class action against the federal government at the Federal High Court for himself and on behalf of the entire people of the Eastern Nigeria. Most, if not all, of the complaints captured in the law suit are the same basis why IPOB is calling for the break-up of Nigeria and the declaration of the sovereign state of Biafra. While the step taken by Dr Agbakoba is commendable, I, like many others, eagerly wait to see the precedent that his novel case is going to set, whichever way it is decided.

It is also very doubtful if the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights can give a right which does not exist under the Nigerian Constitution, bearing in mind that in the hierarchy of laws, the Charter, though a legislation with international flavour, is not superior to the Constitution. Generally, right to secede is not a popular right under international law. The divisions of the Czechoslovakia and Soviet Union as well as the dissolution of the Yugoslavia Republic were not regarded as secessions by the international community. The annexation of Crimea by Russia from Ukraine- which it was formerly part of- is seen as a demonstration of Russia’s contempt for the international legal order. The Charters of the United Nations and African Union seriously protect sovereignty of independent States and their territorial integrity. As far back as 1964, African countries, under the aegis of the old Organisation of African Unity (OAU), passed a resolution to ensure that the boundaries of each African nation remain intact and undisturbed. Under international law, this is known as uti possidetis. The essence of this principle is to forestall balkanization of the continent due to the dissatisfaction with the composition of individual States in Africa as in the case of the Biafran people.

As a matter of fact, there is no country in Africa that does not have elements of discontented people who feel short-changed by the arbitrary maps and boundaries drawn up by the colonialists at the notorious Berlin Conference of 1884/85. A typical example is the on-going agitation of the English-speaking people of the Southwest and Northwest Cameroon for the declaration of the Republic of Ambazonia. Out of the ten regions that constitute Cameroon, Southwest and Northwest are the only two that have English as their official language. These Cameroonians want to secede (or separate, as some prefer to put it) from Cameroon because...

READ MORE: http://ikengachronicles.com/the-indivisibility-of-nigeria-the-biafra-agitation-and-the-law/

Three decades ago, January 31, 1985, to be exact, in faraway South Africa, something happened. The State President of the then apartheid South Africa, Pieta Willem Botha, speaking in parliament, offered the then imprisoned Nelson Mandela his freedom on condition that he ‘unconditionally reject violence as a political weapon’. This would not be the first time Botha would make this offer to Mandela; in fact, it would be the sixth of such offer. There had been earlier ones that required that Mandela accept exile in the Transkei as a condition for freedom.

What was unique about this sixth offer, however, was that it was the first time that Mandela took his time to pen a thorough response to Botha’s shenanigans. His daughter Zinzi Mandela read her father’s reply to this offer before a mass gathering in Jabulani Stadium, Soweto, on February 10, 1985. Below is the full text of Mandela’s response as read by Zinzi:
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I am a member of the African National Congress. I have always been a member of the African National Congress and I will remain a member of the African National Congress until the day I die. Oliver Tambo is much more than a brother to me. He is my greatest friend and comrade for nearly fifty years. If there is any one amongst you who cherishes my freedom, Oliver Tambo cherishes it more, and I know that he would give his life to see me free. There is no difference between his views and mine.

I am surprised at the conditions that the government wants to impose on me. I am not a violent man. My colleagues and I wrote in 1952 to Daniel François Malan asking for a round table conference to find a solution to the problems of our country, but that was ignored. When Johannes Gerhardus Strijdom was in power, we made the same offer. Again it was ignored. When Hendrik Verwoerd was in power we asked for a national convention for all the people in South Africa to decide on their future. This, too, was in vain.

It was only then, when all other forms of resistance were no longer open to us, that we turned to armed struggle. Let Botha show that he is different to Malan, Strijdom and Verwoerd. Let him renounce violence. Let him say that he will dismantle apartheid. Let him unban the people’s organization, the African National Congress. Let him free all who have been imprisoned, banished or exiled for their opposition to apartheid. Let him guarantee free political activity so that people may decide who will govern them.

I cherish my own freedom dearly, but I care even more for your freedom. Too many have died since I went to prison. Too many have suffered for the love of freedom. I owe it to their widows, to their orphans, to their mothers and to their fathers who have grieved and wept for them. Not only I have suffered during these long, lonely, wasted years. I am not less life-loving than you are. But I cannot sell my birthright, nor am I prepared to sell the birthright of the people to be free. I am in prison as the representative of the people and of your organization, the African National Congress, which was banned.

What freedom am I being offered while the organization of the people remains banned? What freedom am I being offered when I may be arrested on a pass offence? What freedom am I being offered to live my life as a family with my dear wife who remains in banishment in Brandfort? What freedom am I being offered when I must ask for permission to live in an urban area? What freedom am I being offered when I need a stamp in my pass to seek work? What freedom am I being offered when my very South African citizenship is not respected?

Only free men can negotiate. Prisoners cannot enter into contracts. Herman Toivo ja Toivo, when freed, never gave any undertaking, nor was he called upon to do so. I cannot and will not give any undertaking at a time when I and you, the people, are not free. Your freedom and mine cannot be separated. I will return.
————————
I want the spirit of that Mandela letter to guide you for the rest of this piece, as it provides a comparative hermeneutic framework for this long essay. I had on several occasions called for Nnamdi Kanu’s unconditional release, seeing as his arrest and detention was bad politics for which the Buhari government was paying a huge logistic, strategic, and PR price. The latest of those calls was on January 11, 2017 when I penned my reaction to Nnia Nwodo’s election as the president of Ohaneze. In that piece, I maintained that top on Nwodo’s priorities should be Nnamdi Kanu’s unconditional release from detention.

Well, Nnamdi Kanu was finally granted bail on April 27, 2017 on the strange, stupid, and silly conditions that he must produce three sureties, including a “highly respected and recognized Jewish leader”, a “highly placed person of Igbo extraction such as a Senator”, as well as “a highly respected person who is resident and owns landed property in Abuja”. The sureties were to deposit N100million each in bond, and Kanu was expressly barred from attending any rally or granting any form of interview. Kanu was ordered to surrender his Nigerian and British international passports. Also, Kanu was required to sign an undertaking to make himself available for trial at all times. However, Kanu’s co-defendants, Chidiebere Onwudiwe, Benjamin Madubugwu and David Nwawuisi, who gave their loyalty to Kanu, even to the point of going to jail with him, were denied bail by the court, which has fixed July 11 and 12 for the commencement of their criminal trial. At this point you may want to reread Mandela’s letter above.

For students of history, the event of April 27, 2017 – the day Justice Binta Nyako granted Kanu bail on those outrageous conditions, reminds one of January 31, 1985 – the day Botha offered Nelson Mandela his freedom on the relatively ‘simple’ condition that he “unconditionally reject violence as a political weapon”. It is a comparison that I have chosen to make, not because I want to compare Kanu to Mandela, but just to show why that comparison cannot be made, not now, not ever.

Notice that by the date that Botha offered to release Mandela on that simple condition, Nelson Mandela had already spent about 22 years in prison. Compare that to April 27, 2017 when Justice Nyako granted Nnamdi Kanu bail on those strange, stupid, and silly conditions. As at that date, Kanu had been detained for one year and a half. Now, if you had just been dropped from Mars, and had never heard or read of Nelson Mandela or Nnamdi Kanu, who of the two do you think would have greater incentive to embrace the conditional offer of freedom extended to him? Mandela, right? But you are wrong. Mandela turned his own offer down, and his reason for that decision is amply contained in the letter above. On the other hand, however, Nnamdi Kanu’s bail, as strange and ridiculously onerous as its conditions were, was perfected, almost promptly. Senator Eyinnaya Abaribe (Chairman of Senate’s South East Caucus), Immanuel Shalom (a Jewish priest), and one Toochukwu Uchendu (an accountant and Abuja resident), came forward as sureties for Kanu, presumably dropping N100million each in bond. With that, Nnamdi Kanu, the self-acclaimed leader of the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB) became a freeman.

On a personal level, I am happy for Nnamdi Kanu. Freedom is sweet! But I have some questions for him:

1. What was all that about?
2. Did you and do you understand that some causes are bigger than your personal pain and comfort?
3. Did you not foresee prison, even death, as a possible consequence of your rebellion? How could you not?
4. Okay, you are free; now what?

Truth is that for those who believe in the IPOB cause, Nnamdi Kanu, by the terms of his release, which he accepted, has effectively abandoned the IPOB cause. And in doing that, he has shown himself to be a very bad leader and an unworthy general. But for Nnamdi Kanu, the trio of Chidiebere Onwudiwe, Benjamin Madubugwu, and David Nwawuisi would not have been in prison today. In loyalty and solidarity to Kanu, their master and their general, these worthy troops marched into prison. Nnamdi Kanu is not a worthy general. No worthy general leaves his troops behind. What about the scores, if not hundreds, of young Igbo men and women who followed Nnamdi Kanu’s rebellious crusade into their untimely graves?

Does Nnamdi Kanu even understand the symbolism, significance, and consequence of having Senator Abaribe, Rabbi Shalom, and Tochukwu Uchendu stand surety for his bail? Senator Enyinnaya Abaribe is part of the compromised Igbo power elite that has forged common cause with the national power structure that has marginalized and systematically dehumanized the Igbo, the very centerpiece of what is supposed to be Kanu’s IPOB cause. If IPOB is a grassroots movement, which it should be, Nnamdi Kanu should not have accepted politicians, the same ones who have mortgaged and pawned away the destiny of the Igbo, to be his sureties. By accepting his bail conditions and allowing the likes of Abaribe to surety his bond, Kanu has given himself away as an emasculated man, and has effectively become their bitch, and they his pimps. And if there is one thing we know about politicians generally, and Nigerian politicians, in particular, it is that they will instrumentally exact him to his last blood drop. After all, he now owes his freedom to them.

Already, Kanu is palling with politicians of different political hues and intentions. He was picked up upon release from Kuje prison in a Mercedes SUV by one of the governorship aspirants in Anambra state. The optic was opportunistically deliberate. Kanu has also been sighted and photographed palling with members of the Nigerian political power structure, the same structure that has imposed an endemic, systemic, and systematic existential and structural burden on the Igbo. And it is just getting started. They will exploit his little popularity to political ends until Kanu’s self-oriented bail calculations become a subject of common knowledge.

And what is it with Nnamdi Kanu’s Jewish personae? When, how, and why did Kanu convert to Judaism, adorning himself in kippah skullcap and shawl? Is Nnamdi Kanu that confused? Does Nnamdi Kanu understand that the Jews are occupiers, just like the Nigerian authorities whom Nnamdi Kanu and his IPOB crusaders have accused of occupying Biafra? Is Nnamdi Kanu too naïve to see that the Palestinians are the victims of Jewish occupation, just as the Igbo are in Nigeria? Yet, the Igbo champion has chosen to become a Jew? Whose idea was that ignoble contradiction?

Did Kanu and his aides even realize the countervailing significance of that Jewish stunt? What strategic goal is in play that will make a self-styled champion of a nationality that is ninety-nine percent stubbornly Christian embrace Judaism? Does Kanu even know that Jews and Judaism don’t believe in Jesus Christ as the messiah? How does Rabbi Nnamdi Kanu intend to square that circle for the people he wants to lead? Again, I ask: is Nnamdi Kanu in a state of identity crisis or is he engaged in a higher strategic gamble? Is it possible that by giving off Jewish vibes, Nnamdi Kanu was courting Israeli solidarity? Does Nnamdi Kanu want Israel to view Biafra as its client state, thus creating an obligation on Israel to assist in the liberation of Biafra? That would have been a noble strategic calculation except that the Jewish State of Israel is not in the business of liberation. Israel is in the business of occupation, exclusion, and bondage. Israel is on record as being willing to pay non-Jews to leave Israel. Or was Nnamdi Kanu’s rabbi paraphernalia intended to simply maximize his personal power among his followers? Rabbi in Judaism means teacher of Torah. It is a title that derives from the Hebrew word rabi, meaning “my master”, and the word master literally means “great one”. If that was the calculation, he failed. A good and great master does not abandon and leave his disciples behind.

Did Nnamdi Kanu walk right into a mousetrap? By bonding out, on the conditions he did, Nnamdi Kanu may have taken his Igbo nation deeper into bondage. Like the sons of Israel who rebelled against Moses and Aaron in the flight from Egypt, crying, “Would we had died in the land of Egypt! Or would that we had died in this wilderness!”, is it time for the Igbo to cry out against a leader who has ostensibly abandoned them after exposing them to risks? Why did Nnamdi Kanu accept a release condition that required him not to hold any form of rallies or grant any form of interviews? Why did Nnamdi Kanu accept a bail condition that essentially required him to renounce the Biafra and IPOB cause after leading young Igbo men and women out into a treacherous national battlefield? Did Kanu need his freedom that badly? Did he even think this IPOB campaign through? Did he not see prolonged incarceration, even death, as a possible personal sacrifice for an existential cause?

How much was Nnamdi Kanu paid by the federal government to accept his ridiculous bail conditions, including the renunciation of the Biafra and IPOB cause? Does Nnamdi Kanu even realize that by his release on those terms, he has been permanently captured by the same federal establishment he claims to be fighting? That by his release on those ridiculous terms, the Igbo have lost a...


READ MORE: http://ikengachronicles.com/the-demystification-and-decanonization-of-nnamdi-kanu-vitus-ozoke/

The survival instincts inherent in man and the rather pathetic level of poverty in the country have driven people to the extremes in their bid to meet up with family responsibilities and societal obligations. However, squeezing juice out of stones to earn a living is probably as extreme as it can ever get.

This is the case of the family of Mrs Margret Ajasco who for over two decades, has sustained her family of eight resident on the outskirts of Jalingo in Taraba, literally extracting juice from stones.

Family background and generational poverty killed her dream of becoming a nurse as she never had the opportunity of going to school beyond Primary Two.

As such, the then young and ambitious Margaret had to join the subsistence farming that was the only means of livelihood in the family and neighborhood she grew up at the time.

Peer pressure and youthful exuberance as well as the drive for a ‘better life’ soon kicked in too hard and soon, she was out of the family home. She ended with her heartthrob Mr Ajasco who was a young and energetic mason at the time and had exuded everything but poverty.

After moving in together, the reality dawned on her, a little too late that not all that glitters is gold. She had to struggle to put her new and fast growing family together.

After trying her hands on so many things without much success, she resorted to stone breaking.

Ikenga Chronicles had to ask, why stone breaking?

“At the time, that was actually the end of the road for me. There was nowhere to go. I had no money and my husband had none either. The only choice was to start anything that could sustain my family and enable me save some money to start a better business. This was the only option left for me”, she responded.

And so the rigorous adventure into the stone breaking business started. Over the last two decades, Mrs Margaret has had to eck a living for her six children and husband from breaking and selling stones.

She pays her children’s school fees, provides food for the family, pay the family bill from the proceeds of the sales of stones.

But the business is not without risk. Margaret was at some point seriously injured on her leg when a stone almost destroyed her dream. She was out of action for over three months. Also, she suffers constant back and waist pain, besides her fingers all crushed at some point by the hammer she uses for her trade.

Unfortunately, the flow of business is such that it takes two to three months to sell a single trip of gravel for a profit of barely Seven Thousand Naira.

While Margaret dreams of making sure that her children are educated so as not to face her own predicament in life, that the reality of this dream has not seen the light of the day has become her daily nightmare.

It is nearly impossible to save any money to start anything meaningful as her sales are highly erratic and the proceeds barely enough to attend to basic family needs.

“I just want to see if I could get money to start a new business. I know that this is not good for myself. I am dying slowly because I do all these and hardly have anything to eat. I just wish I could start a small business that would be less demanding physically but the resources are not there”.

In as much as the challenges are daunting, Margaret is willing to do whatever it takes to achieve this one dream in life– to give her children education and ensure that their future does not turn as hers.

Unfortunately, the success of this dream seems completely out of her hands. Question is that, how long would she continue doing this present job and how possible is it that her darlings from this line of work can train her children through higher education? How long would her...

READ MORE: http://ikengachronicles.com/surviving-on-stone-juice-in-taraba/

The Taraba State Football Club ( Taraba FC) were recently held hostage by the management of the Moralex Hotel in Wuse Zone Two in the Federal Capital Territory, Abuja over accumulated bills.

Investigations by Ikenga Chronicles reveal that, the players and management of the team had lodged at the hotel while going for the National League in Abuja but the state government failed to pay the bills and when they were to travel back to Jalingo, the management of the hotel had no choice but to hold them back pending the remittance of the bills.

In a telephone interview, the club chairman, Daniel Ishaya Gani, said the ” people we borrowed money from to come and play the National league here in Abuja and the management of the hotel that we lodge are presently holding us hostage because of our inability to offset our bills.”

Our investigation reveal that team was in Abuja to play the Abuja FC in the federal capital territory and had to source funds from groups and individuals before proceeding to Abuja for the league.

Dejected by the incident which has turned the players to mendicants in Abuja, the chairman, said they have resolved to go cap in hand sourcing for helping hands from the National Assembly members from the state.

According to him ” we have resolved to go round and borrow money from our members in the National Assembly and we are hopeful that some of them would come to our rescue.”

The chairman and his team are however optimistic that the Minister for Women Affairs and Social Development, Senator Alhassan Aisha Jumai who hails from the state and some of the National Assembly members from the state would help in salvaging the situation.

“Our only hope” as made known by the chairman ” is on the only Minister from our state, Senator Aisha because we have reached out to her on the telephone. Though she is not in the country but she has promised to reach us soon.”

Describing the situation as ” a national embarrassment” he expressed dismay at the way and manner the state government has continued to relegate both the players and the team management to the background.

Ishaya who told our reporter that ” the owners of the hotel are preventing us from going out pending when we settle our debt” said the players are contemplating of leaving behind the club bus: ” the players suggested that we should leave our bus behind.”

Some of the players who also bared their minds described the situation as ” great embarrassment” and wondered why the state government has continued to drag its feets on issues that have to do with the club.

The players who have embarked on series of protest to the government house in Jalingo over unpaid salaries and allowance, said they would be left with no option than to find their ways back to Jalingo, the state capital leaving behind in the hotel, the club bus.

Our correspondent gathered that the senator representing Taraba South, Emmanuel Bwacha, the Minister for Women and Social Development, Senator Alhassan Aisha Jumai, had intervened by providing some funds for the team to ameliorate their plights while the government was still complacent.

Though the ransom has been paid and the team released, our correspondent gathered that the state government is not comfortable with the chairman of the team for reaching out to others and exposing government’s indifference to the plight of the team.

Our independent investigation reveal that plans are underway for the sack of the chairman and would have been made formal, if it were not for his strategic political relevance to governor Darius Ishaku and his 2019 re-election ambition.

FC Taraba have staged over five protests in the last few months to protest non-payment of their entitlements for over two years.

http://ikengachronicles.com/untold-story-of-how-f-c-taraba-were-held-hostage-over-unpaid-hotel-bills/