₦airaland Forum

The village of Umuoke was thrown into confusion on an Eke market day. The business of that day was grounded by the tragedy of that morning. At the popular Eke market square, the awful sight that was beheld by many brought ears even to the eyes of strong men. Leaving their thought to run wide, people were tense with emotion. An onlooker who could not hold his feelings exclaimed within the crowd, “Hey, abomination! Arukwonwa!
Cold chill ran down the spin of many as they watched Mazi Okeke’s son suspended on a tree by a rope. His breath was snuffed out by the well looped noose around his neck. The question on everyone’s mind was, “Why would a promising son of Umuoke take his life in such a despicable manner?”
The answer which was far-fetched from the onlooker’s eyes was hidden in the lifeless body of Ifemelu who had been a business man at the popular Onitsha main market. The young man who tested positive to HIV could not contain the thought of the stigma that awaited him in the streets of his country, even in his family. The mere thought of the discrimination that he would face and his ignorant belief that ‘HIV cause AIDS and AIDS leads to death’ spurred him into going to the market where he bought a rope, went down to his village where he made a noose and hung himself on a tree. Ifemelu’s choice of committing suicide in his village was to be closer to the grave of his fathers.

The rising tide of discriminating against people living with HIV has been a nightmare. We have refused to understand the fact that ‘it is not the virus in HIV that kills but our attitude towards people living with it.’ Yes, our attitude towards people affects their action. The ignorance of men and women in our society kills faster than the virus itself. We often ignore the fact that everyone is at the risk of contracting this virus; while those who are living with the virus are erroneously believed to have shaken hands with the devil.

In Nigeria, ministries are scattered to carter for the needs of people living with HIV/AIDS, even ARDs and counseling are most times graciously provided, but it beats my imagination to learn that many who are supposed to take advantage of these offers are nowhere to be found. They are often held bound in their ‘caves’ by the manacles of the fear of stigmatization and discrimination. They wrongly think that coming out to seek for these helps will expose them to the prying eyes of the ‘gossipy’ public. Some, like Ifemelu, go to the point of calling it a quit to this beautiful life. According to UNAIDS, Nigeria has the second largest HIV epidemic in the world and one of the highest rates of new infection in sub-Saharan Africa. But, if you ask me, I would say that that is not the worst case scenario. Stigma contributes, to a large extent, the sad stories told by many. An employer whose employee is suspected to be living with the virus gets an immediate sack letter. A woman whose husband is rumoured to have died from the virus is treated like a leper.

It was quite pathetic hearing the story of an orphan who was driven into the harshness of the street all because stories had it that his parents died of AIDS. My dear, what do you think would become of you or your child when faced with rejection. “God forbid!” you would say. Well, a biblical injunction says it all__ ‘Do to others as you would have them do to you’.

As someone whose mother gave 35 years of her life tending to the sick in the hospital (UNTH Ituku Ozalla, Enugu state), I sometimes went to their Heart to Heart Centre/clinic to see young people who, supposedly (i.e by my own assessment) are living with the virus. I found out that as a result of the way people living with HIV/AIDS are being regarded, especially in this part of the world, a man that test positive to the virus would rather hang himself than wait to be greeted by the unfriendly hands of discrimination. But, do you know what? The man that hangs himself and the one that metes out discrimination to someone living with the virus are guilty. Yes, they are guilty of IGNORANCE!

The gospel truth is that people who are living with the virus are not barred from living a long and a healthy life. Ask the doctors.

My dear, it is sad to know that young people, especially on campuses and most of our local communities, still indulge in risky behaviours. Many people parade the streets and our campuses without knowing their HIV status. Our stubborn legs have simply refused to conform to the good habit of going for routine HIV test. Little wonder that most people get to find out that they are living with the virus when the head is already chopped off____ when it’s a little late. Honestly, dear reader, when was the last time you checked your HIV status?

The cliché is, “If you’re not infected, you’re affected.” So, let’s join hands in making sure that Africa and indeed the world is rid of this nightmare called HIV/AIDS. Remain vigilant for it may be in your neighbourhood, especially now that a lot of youths are idle. I know you still remember what they say about Idleness. Above all, show love and care to people living with the virus. That’s the only way you can contribute to the international fight against this malady that sneaked into our neighbourhood at night.

Finally, remember that what is good for the goose is also good for the gander. So, show love, not just to loved ones; SHOW LOVE TO PEOPLE LIVING WITH HIV/AIDS.
As you already know, today’s World AIDS DAY (WAD); this is the summary of my message. Keeping The ABC Formula in Mind

We’ve been made to understand that:

A__ Abstinence (in d ABC formula) is the most Assuring!

But, if u MUST do, use a Condom

However, bear in mind that having a ‘B’ in an exam is also a good grade.

Let’s say no to HIV & AIDS!

Say an emphatic NO to stigma n discrimination!

Source: https://sadozo.com/world-aids-day/


This is inline with the celebration of World AIDS DAY, Mods: lalasticlala, mynd44, pls see if u can move this to FP, as d message therein is quite timely n necessary.

Dear Nairalander, something in my tells me that u would love this. Go ahead and let me know how u feel about it.


THEATRE OF SUSPENSE

We the Nigerian people,

Having being turned into an audience,

In this smoke screen of a theatre,

Where dreams hardly come through.

And as hunger deals a deadly blow,

Even to the last man on the street,

Who was promised abundance,

Now abandoned in hunger,

In a nation ravaged by recession,

A word that affects even the suckling,

For the breast milk of the hungry mother is dry,

And the price of milk has sky-ed.



Now like babies,

Are we treated in this theatre,

After we were tricked of our ticket,

A ticket we stood in the sun,

And under the rain to give them.

The old and the young,

The poor and the destitute,

Who were promised food and shelter,

No wonder they came ALL-out,

And in unison they said no to Transformation,

And Yes to a change,

That is today seen as a chain.



Chaos everywhere,

In this theatre of suspense,

Where even the crippled,

Get beaten by men with iron fist,

For the offense of wearing a cloth,

A cloth they claim where theirs alone,

Even the D and the double S,

Treat us like men without dignity,

But what shall we say?

When they could beat up a man who has no legs,

Is it us with two to run away with,

That won’t get pummelled into submission?



Has tyranny taken over our seat of power?

That even a bomb from the sky,

Is heard at IDP camp,

Has corruption eaten so deep?

That stash of dollars,

Money so big to buy a country,

Is found in the hand of one man,

Are we this stupid?

That a big player in our finance says:

‘Recession is but a word in the lexicon of the English man’

And then she sits at her fancy office,

And watch us die from her effect.



In this theatre of dreams,

Back and forth we keep going,

Masses gathering for a match,

Voices shouting on the street,

Solders picking up their guns,

BH going extinct,

The social media going abuzz.

In this midst of ravaging hunger,

The Command-in-Chief,

And a man whose name sounds like ASI, the Igbo word,

Comes out in a big screen,

To tell us lies as if we are fools.

Source: http://sadozo.com/theatre-of-suspense/
All Right Reserved
Cc: Dominique, Lalasticlala, Robosky02, Joseph1013, TheGoodJoe, Safarigirl...

I was struggling very hard to look at Musa sympathetically when he finished telling me this story last Friday. As the words ‘ndo, pele, sannu and sorry’ kept tumbling out of my mouth, deep down my heart I concluded that he was not just a fool but also an idiot.

As a bachelor who’s currently experiencing the gnawing bite of the economy of this country (no thanks to MMM and Christmas celebration that drained the money I had in my account), I punch the calculator these days before I decide to buy a bag of sachet water, and when I eventually make up my mind to buy, I don’t drink water as much as I used to so that the bag of water would last longer. Of course, that’s an exaggeration but I feel that there’s no better way to explain my financial predicament than to use the sachet water scenario_____ water is life. Be that as it may, I know that my situation would change for good once January salary shows or the moment MMM merges me for payment. Honestly, I’ve NEVER been this broke in my life.

Before I go into the story that Musa, my colleague (whom I’m ashamed to call my friend after listening to him tell me his story at lunch break two days ago), let me paint a little picture of the current situation of yours truly. I got a job at one of the ministries in Nigeria in August last year (2016). As it’s the norm with government parastatals, I was paid 3 months in arrears. Prior to that time, I had been participating in MMM with meagre sums. When on 1st December my 3 months salaries landed gidigba in my account, I needed no body to advise me to invest big in the scheme. I gave help on December 7th. The rest of the story is history. Although I’m a man of strong will, I went hysterical when I heard the news that MMM has been put on hold till January. I was not just frustrated; I was devastated and deep down my heart I felt that my hard earned money had gone down the drain. I thought the witches in my village had finally gotten to me.

Fast forward to January 13th, I danced and leaped with joy when I heard that MMM is back. For the first time since December, I was so happy that I felt I could jump up and my head would touch the roof of my room. Oluwa noni! I exploded into a maniacal laughter two days ago not because I was sure that MMM would pay me this month, I laughed heartily after listening to Musa’s story. Musa, who got a job at the Ministry almost the same time that I did, told me about his ordeal in Lagos when we were having a bottle of coke and meat pie at a nearby cafeteria; I stopped patronizing Mama Iyabo’s Restaurant since she started selling a plate of food for N450, once again, no thanks to MMM.



It was last weekend in Ikeja, Nigeria. Musa had just travelled to Lagos from Abuja to accompany his mum to Murtala Mohammed Airport to board a flight to the US____ her daughter, Musa’s elder sister had given birth to a baby boy in the States a fortnight ago. My colleague had just said goodbye and safe trip to his mum who thereafter found her way to the Departure Lounge when he decided to pick a cab to Festac town. As he told me, he had given Cynthia, a crush in his University days the address of the hotel where he was lodged in Festac, For Musa, it was the proverbial saying of killing two birds with a stone. My friend, who lives the most frugal lifestyle I’ve ever seen in the world, took a bus to Lagos and pocketed the remaining part of the money which his sister had sent to him for a flight from Abuja to Lagos. Did I just say he pocketed the money? Don’t mind my choice of words. Although Musa can be very frugal when it comes to spending on himself. On the contrary, when it comes to showing-off to a girl he’s interested in he becomes a slowpoke who would not only borrow his uncle’s car to impress the girl in question, he could also spend to the very last kobo in his pocket. I remember the day my pretty younger sister came to see me at my place of work, This olodo colleague of mine, for the first time paid for my meal during lunch, and pestered me all through that day for my sister’s number. Well, that’s a story for another day.

Before Musa’s mother arrived the land where Donald Trump would be sworn in as the 45th President come the 20th day of this month, her son paid fifteen thousand naira into Cynthia’s account before she agreed to come and see him in the hotel room where he spent the night before with his mother. Musa’s mother had flown into Lagos from Jos, her city of residence, and because her flight to the US was an evening flight, she was lodged in a hotel in Festac town. Her daughter’s husband, through the help of a friend booked for two nights in the exquisite hotel. The woman only got to spend a night at the hotel as she and her son left for Murtala Mohammed Airport the following day. Unbeknown to her, her supposedly responsible son had paid some lady 15k to pay him a visit on the night of the day she left for the US.

Musa told me that this lady friend of his that stays in Ikeja was a big girl. When I asked what she does, he stuttered as he says that she works for an advertising agency and was also into modelling. When I gave him that look that suggests that I needed more clarification, He said, ‘Well she didn’t really ask for the money. It was just me that offered to give it to her after I told her that I was coming to Lagos on a business trip and would love to see her.’

He said the money was meant to have her do her hair, fix her nails and other exigencies, And, because I ask too many questions, I asked him why a girl who was not just his schoolmate but also a big girl would need such an impression before accepting to come and see him. He simply said that he had always presented himself as I big boy to her, especially since he got a federal job. In his exact words, ‘You must be a big boy (or act like one) to get the big girls.’ I know Musa too well to know that he didn’t tell me the whole story.

I felt very sad when, in this hardship yours truly is facing, Musa opened his mouth to tell me that he gave a woman N15,000 even before he got to see her face. I’m not trying to sound holier-than-thou but I know a lot of things that amount of money would do for me at this critical era. No thanks to MMM and the yuletide season that engulfed my savings. When you look at it closely, my colleague, Musa is so much unlike me; I’m the first of seven children, he’s the last of five. My dad is late and my mum has a small business I recently upgraded for her but Musa’s father retired as a Permanent secretary and his elder sister married a rich man who’s based in the US. I made a 2:1 and saw hell before I got an appointment letter from the Ministry of…; my friend made a 2:2 and I’m sure his appointment letter was delivered to him at home. So, for real, Musa was a big boy. But trust me, it doesn’t just take money to be a big boy.

Having painted a little picture of myself, I’m sure you can now relate to what 15k would’ve meant for me. Before you think you completely understand my anger, wait until you finish reading Musa’s story.

When I asked Musa how close he was to Cynthia before he travelled to Lagos, he said that they were both in the same faculty at the University of Maiduguri. In his voice, ‘that girl pine well well!’



When Musa said the final bye bye to his mother, he was on his way to pick a cab back to Festac when he decided to eat at a buka somewhere around the airport. He probably did not want to spend too much money paying for room service when he gets back to his hotel or, he was too hungry at that moment that he couldn’t wait until he got back to the hotel. Although I didn’t ask him which it was, but the Musa I know would prefer to eat a cheap meal at a buka over an expensive one in a hotel even if the food was prepared by the same chef.

Musa told me that he had finished eating and when it was time to pay, he dipped his right hand in his pocket only to find out that the five thousand naira he came out with was no longer there. Thinking it was a joke, he fumbled through the pocket of his trousers and all he could come up with was the two hundred naira change he collected from the cab man that dropped him and his mother at the airport. According to him, his mother who paid the taxi man had stretched her hand to collect the change but her son, snatching it from her said, ‘You’re going to the US so stop bothering about naira notes because it’s not a legal tender there.’

When Musa see say water don pass garri, he paid for his food with the N200 note he found in his breast pocket, thankfully, he had eaten ‘Without’.

Thinking of how to get back to his hotel in Festac on that Saturday evening, Musa started sweating profusely. He thought about calling Cynthia who had told him that she lives in Ikeja. Her house could be close to the airport, he thought. ‘If only I had come out with my ATM card,’

To cut the long story short, Musa called Cynthia to hear her voice and also find out the time that she would be coming to his hotel room but she did not pick. He concluded that she was busy as he checked the time in his wristwatch; it was 6:35pm. On the spur of the moment, he decide to pick a cab straight to his Festac.

Musa told me that what pained him the most was not that a taxi man who drove him from Ikeja to Festac and still followed him to his hotel room to collect a fare of N6000 that he had charged for the journey but that his anger was that when he arrived his hotel room and called Cynthia all through that night she refused to pick. He said he was so angry he couldn’t sleep, and that if he was not a Muslim he would’ve gone the bar to drink himself to stupor.

After patiently listening to Musa’s story, my anger was not that he gave a girl 15k; my annoyance was the way he chose to do it. This is the same Musa that keeps boasting about how he has conquered more women than yours truly. That boy can boast for Africa but when you meet him in action it won’t take long to see that he’s just nothing but a compound idiot.

Although the ‘idiot’ told me that his anger was defused when the Cynthia in question woke him up from sleep with a phone call the following morning and apologized that she couldn’t make it to his place_____ I mean, his hotel room that was to expire by 12pm that day. When asked why she didn’t pick her calls, she said she forgot her phone in a friends place. After their conversation that morning, Musa said the girl promised to come and visit him one of these days in Abuja since he couldn’t stay in Lagos for an extra day. ‘What a blatant lie!’ I exclaimed

Well, whether the girl would keep her promise or not, my happiness right now is that MMM has kept their promise to us by re-opening. But, whether they would pay me soon or not, I leave that in the hands of God.

Pls, if u’ve been paid let me know in ur comment section.

Source: http://sadozo.com/mmm-back-i-will-soon-start-balling/
lalasticlala, mynd44