Excerpt from Chioma Sylvie Mgbaramuko’s Oja!

…Shola! Shola! The sound of my name banged in my ear like a cheap Christmas banger. Nkechi’s voice resounded in my ear, like what Ma’mi usually call microphone voice. It can never be subdued, not even in the drone of street noise. I jumped up from the long wooden bench that has become light from age, ‘Nkechi, what is it this time?’ I asked. The sweat on her face shone like glitters but could not hide the worried look she had on. ‘what is it?’ I asked again, this time I nudged her to tell me. ‘dem dey beat Femi’ she rasped quickly, her flair skirt swung around as she spoke. Gbenga who ran in almost immediately with Nkechi , squatted on the floor to catch his breath. I turned to him and tapped him to get up and seat on the light bench, he must have been running from the market place.
Although, the story was different this time, it sounded the same. Femi either stole or was accused of stealing, and he never owned up to any. He would later be arrested and Ma’mi would unfold squeezed ten and twenty naira notes that she had realized from her petty trade to bail Femi.

Today will not be different.

In the evening, Ma’mi and Femi returned from the Police Station, it was like a reunion because for the first time in many months, Femi did not leave the house that night for his usual smoking spree with his gang. Ma’mi managed to buy a derica of rice, two cubes of maggi star and ata gigun for supper. I had lost appetite and could not scrape the bottom of the pot for the sweetest part of the orange rice. I wondered why we were celebrating, we usually had rice meals on important days and sometimes, when Ma’mi made enough sales, but not at night or today that most of the money she realized went to the police. I searched Femi’s face in the semi-lit room for any concern, may be remorse. But there was none, his face was empty and plain. He ate his rice quietly at the corner of the room close to our aged Sharp TV. After the meal, Ma’mi cleaned the wounds on his face and arm with a piece of cloth and warm water.

TUNISIA, EGYPT, NOW LIBYA—HOW LONG… IS LONG

In the history of a changing Africa, amidst the nonchalance of some African organizations, far there in the North; Africans have stood up and said to themselves ‘the die is cast, let this madness stop.’ Let this intoxication and misuse of power stop, Africans can no longer be ruled by charlatans who parade themselves as ‘great leaders’. No doubt, revolution is doing the rounds and these by- force leaders are being uprooted. Recently, the story started with Zine Ben –Ali of Tunisia, then Hosni Mubarak of Egypt, and now, the self acclaimed ‘great’ leader (of course considering his years on seat) Muammar Gaddafi of Libya. Do you ask for how long? How long, is long.

I really have not looked into this African revolution, this is not because I should not, it is because I have decided to pose a blind eye, most especially in this craze of election campaigns in Nigeria; candidates manifestos and posters flying here and there with unending promises, sweet rigging and sweet talking ignorant Nigerians. And now, some forgotten person has come back as presidential candidate for ANPP. He must really have enough to offer us.

The history of most African rulers have not been favourable or commendable, especially the ones who have turned themselves into ‘for life presidents’. Presidents like King Sobhuza, who ruled in Swaziland for 60 years, then his son Nswati took over from him and has been there since 1986 (25 years), Omar Bongo ruled Gabon for 43 years, Sese Seko of Congo ruled for 33 years, Paul Biya has been the president of Cameroun for 29 years, Robert Mugabe has been on seat since the independence of Zimbabwe in 1980 (31 years), Houphet Boigny ruled Cote D’ Ivoire for 33 years, even Gnassingbe Eyadema of Togo ruled for 38 years. I call it rule because they have turned it to a sacred tradition, like the ritual of culture. Africans must realize that politics is not tradition, it is competence and leadership. It is lead and let others lead; it is not rule and die on the seat; it is not a thing of inheritance, it is merit, it is because you are qualified because you will bring change not because you will enslave citizens and convert them to personal property; I must say that this is not cattle rearing. I’m sorry to add, I do not expect that African Union will condemn what is happening, it has been foreign countries and organizations coming in to mediate, not the so called African Union. As I stated, I do not expect the least, because at one time these for -life presidents have been at one point rulers or strong members of this organization. Really, what do you expect?

I am not talking about 10 years, I am talking about 18, 20, 30, 42, 43, even 60 years! This is ridiculous, even Mandela who slaved for his country did not ask for that much. The mere mention of long is long, long enough for a man to leave the seat. Gaddafi has closed his country from international and political interference, even advancement. What good then does he have to offer? He has turned the country to me, myself and I; self acclaimed great leader and am sure AU is finding it hard because this ‘great’ man who wanted Africa to be United States of Africa… mchew, united indeed. And later baptized OAU into AU, oh! Such ‘great man can do no wrong’.
Rollo May once said that violence arises not out of superfluity of power but out of powerlessness. Libyans are not protesting with ammunition, are they? You have been doing the killing and enjoying the blood show. All they are simply saying in their powerlessness is just ‘go’, we are tired, and like their placards read… 42 years is more than enough. And for that long, I say it is long. Gaddafi, they are simply saying, join your monocratic colleagues; and let your people enjoy the essence of their lives and not be enslaved in your torture. For how long, is too long… exit, please.

A GENUINE SERVANT

She probably would have looked away, because she was already getting tired of waiting for the principal to arrive. Her eyes were tired of roaming and would not let her, even when she decided to rest them for a while. So she looked into space. Immediately he came in; tall and imposing, he has a deep voice that fits the sternness of his face. He collected a pen from his colleague and began to write the numbers: 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. She was struck, what was he up to? She shifted forward on her seat and concentrated on his pen. Just then, his hands went down to number 30, and he wrote his name and the time he came on the staff time book. After writing, he explained to his colleague “I left these spaces because I wanted to write the actual time I came”, she looked at the time and it was exactly 8:00 am; the same time he wrote. His name is Chuks Okani, the History teacher who is revered and admired by students of Government Day Secondary school, Wuse II, Abuja. He shares his experience with Wordzbelle and the price for being honest and genuine…

About Chuks Okani...

I was born in Jos on the 7th of November, 1963. I’m the first in a family of seven; three boys and four girls, when I was four years old, my family relocated due to the Nigerian civil war and later to Abakaliki after the civil war, where I had my boyhood and youth. I graduated from University of Ilorin in 1987.

Teaching and you...

I just had to teach as regards circumstance. As at the time I went to university I was very idealistic, I never thought of a profession, I thought that one went to school because one should, I never knew that when you graduated you worked with the skill and knowledge you acquired from the university. I never knew university was a training for life, my plan was to go to school and acquire three degrees. I wanted a degree in History, Biology and possibly in Mathematics. Fortunately or unfortunately for me, I didn’t have that much parental guidance, what my dad did was that he made sure he gave you your school fees and then you can do whatever you want with it. I ended up studying only History by the time I could go on to study Biology and later Mathematics, I discovered my father didn’t have that much money. Again, when I wanted to work I didn’t know you choose the kind of work you wanted, I thought people worked because they wanted to work if not I would have been choosy with where I wanted to work; things like satisfaction and fulfillment were the last things on my mind. Even though I was not trained as teacher I didn’t find the job difficult to do because I’m naturally gifted. I study anything I’m interested in, right now I’m interested in computers; particularly networking. I have a number of Microsoft certifications: I am a certified technology specialist, a Microsoft certified engineer and a number of other Microsoft certifications. If I have my life planned out and if I thought of employment as something that one should gain satisfaction from, may be financial satisfaction, personal satisfaction and psychological satisfaction, I probably would not have been teaching or gone into the profession.

Coping with fellow colleagues and people...

That is what I do. I do it because it is the right thing to do, if I wrote a different time from what you noticed; I would not live with my conscience. It has been like that as long as I can remember. I came to this school in January 2007 and I faced serious persecutions because I was everybody’s enemy. I don’t live my life for people, I live my life by the bible. I can stand the against the world as long as I am doing what is right. I had a case when I was working at Gowon barracks, one of my colleague went to the headquarter I didn’t know what he did and as part of the investigation the principal was asked to bring the staff time book and that was how they noticed my name and where I signed 11:00am, the boss there was furious and made issue out of it. All of this I never witnessed, I was told by those who were involved in the case, threats were made as regards the teacher who signed 11:00am but at the end of the day nobody called me to face any punishment. I had a story where two principals who persecuted me lost their jobs, I never went anywhere or to anybody to complain about it. Generally, I like to live a conscientious life, I like to live a great life; I will never go out of my way to do something that is wrong. I stand on my ground on anything I’m convinced about, that is what I do everyday. Why I left spaces and wrote my name at number 30 was because I want others to write whatever time they want because if I don’t they will not be able to write any other time earlier than what I have written. God requires me to be righteous and not compel others to do the same; let them be who they want to be. For now, that is the wisdom to reduce the level of persecution. I tell people that I do not do what I do because I hate them, I do it because it is the right thing to do. It costs me a lot everyday, I loose things: benefits, elevation and I suffer persecution everyday.

Nigeria and integrity...

Sometimes I regret being born into Nigeria, you live a self suicide life because you don’t play by the rules that others play by and people persecute you for this. I grief everyday over the level of corruption, insincerity and lack of integrity—they break my heart. The pressures in Nigeria is too much and to live a good life in Nigeria is not easy. A good Nigerian will be a saint in America.

One more thing he has to say…

One of the greatest grief in my heart is that Christians are part of this decay in Nigeria and it shouldn’t be like that. I am convinced that if 1% of Nigerian civil servants are genuine, Nigeria will not be like this. They are part of the corruption, insincerity, decay, and they are beneficiary of this crime and they sometimes give testimonies in the church about it. if twelve disciples were used by Jesus to turn the world, I believe that twelve genuine civil servants in leadership positions could cause a revolution in the country.

I PLEDGE TO NIGERIA MY COUNTRY

During my secondary school days, I was naughty, and every student was. We were naughty and ignorant. It was just the perfect way to display childishness—so we thought. We had different versions for each song, and the national anthem was not an exception. Hmm, and the pledge? That was the height. Our own version was “I pledge to Nigeria my country, to be faithful, loyal and honest. To serve Nigeria is not by force… ” Our teachers thought we were just being the children that we were, but the truth is as childish as we were, we sang it straight from our hearts, when we place our hands on our chests, we almost made sure we felt our heart.

As far as I know, nobody taught us that song. It was simply observation; what we saw with our child’s eyes, what our parents always complain about the situation of the country, and what musicians compose in their songs. Were we naughty? Because till now even if we don’t say it, we act it. Nigeria is dying: no problem so long as we are not dying, if everything is going bad is not our business as long as we are sharing from the national cake. We are all guilty, me, you , us, everyone . Some people do not even think anything good will come out of our ‘Nazareth’ called Nigeria.

I was hit by the first ambassador of Africa for UN, Adetoye Oremosu’s word about the attitude of Nigerians. I had to recite the pledge to my self, I sang the national anthem again and again and it occurred to me that these powerfully packed words of commitment has been reduced to mere formal recitation.
I pledge, I pledge, a promise of a life time; indebtedness. Each time that I recited those words, it occurred to me that I am simply saying, ‘Oh! Great Nigeria, I am loyal to you and I will protect and serve you.’ Hmm and how many times? Tsk tsk, too bad.

Back to us. I find it very funny and its laughable how we talk about other countries. Recently, I was talking to a friend and the way she sounded about other countries made me to ask ‘oh! So did the leaders of these countries you mentioned work magic. Or human beings, patriotic citizens who also pledged to their country worked with them?’ These countries are not fantasy land or wonderland where things work on their own. Citizens worked, they were committed. What commitment have you shown, what is your pledge? I am Nigeria, you are Nigeria. The earlier, the better Nigeria.

BEFORE GOD AND ‘A NIGERIAN’ MAN

scrrrrrrrrrrrrch, the car hissed to a halt as Mela approached the traffic, he had maneuvered his way around the Island to make sure he beats the traffic but to no avail. He finally stopped and wound down angrily to let in air, his face glittered with sweat and he wiped it with the back of his hand cursing under his breath. This is the only Nigerian situation that sings sweetly to him you are home.

Mela had barely relaxed his huge frame on the seat of his car, when he saw a young man approaching his car, his sunken eyes had turned red from smoking and the bears on his face were scattered like an untrimmed lawn; thinking he was one of those touts that work for the police, he slipped his hand into his trousers pocket and brought out a hundred naira note instead of the usual twenty naira: this is one of the troubles he wants to avoid.

‘Oga’ his voice came, pleadingly.

Mela withdrew his outstretched hand, seeing that he is not a tout, ‘yes’ he answered as he met the gaze of the man. The man licked his cracked lips as if to prepare for the words that he is about to say, ‘oga abeg help, am a muslim student. I dey for my three hundred level, I am studying islam.’

‘ehen’ Mela prodded

‘dem call me yesterday, they said my house is burning at Ijora and my three year old daughter dey inside’ he paused and Mela nodded for him to continue, his countenance still calm.

‘As me and you dey talk now, my child is lying at the General Hospital’ Mela didn’t know how to explain the man’s transition from pidgin to English, ‘so what do you want me to do?’ Mela asked.

‘Oga na help I need, abeg. I no be beggar na circumstance cause am, am a student of Islam’ he paused to watch the effect of his story on Mela’s face, then he continued effortlessly, ‘I no fit lie, before God and man na the truth, I know dey beg na condition cause am’ he finally ended.

Mela raised his head, his eyes focused on the man, while trying to take in the story he had just heard. If it is truly before God and man, he is sure to believe, all that he has said. But before God and this Nigerian Man, who thinks he already had an alliance with God because God can never lie, a man who went from English to pidgin, Allah to God. This Nigerian man who rasped out words quickly like they have been formed for this incident, ‘Hmm’ he let out softly. This was the same story Kachi his cousin told him about a man who went to different locations in Lagos telling different stories, he is known in his profession and people don’t bother to listen.

‘you say na where your daughter dey?’ Mela asked

‘Oga, na for general hospital she dey’ he said

‘Okay make we go there make I pay for the bills’ Mela said and bent as if to put on his shoes, but the man didn’t say anything. Mela raised his head only to find out he was out of sight, he looked around from his car but he was out of sight. Mela smiled, ‘Nigerians’ he said and drove off as soon as the road cleared.

I'm Home

Away for so long...

Times have flown and days have gone.

I have missed my home, where I can laugh and play;

be merry and free.

where whatever i do will not cost me my blood but my pen and mind

Being at home is just 'homly'

Singing, dancing, just doing the rounds in my home

I'm home in my blog!

And it feels sooooooooooo good. Aha!

May the soul of Dagrin and the soul of the murdered journalist rest in peace... AMEN

HEART TO HEART

Dear friend,

My burdened heart, is filled with one thousand and one confused thoughts.

Tiny bits, pieces and pieces; too many— may be just worries , or many sorrows; real pain that I have to bear.

This is from me to you, may be you would help:

For fifty years I have being trying to stand on my own and be a WOMAN of integrity, through out these years, I have tried many paths that always have one route.

Let me make it clearer.

If for fifty years I have tasted civilian rule, military rule, and back to civilian rule; then am just fifty, no change. I am still stunted and piling up numbers.

And for these fifty years those I have put in charge have one story to tell me:

First it was secession, and it was termed Biafra.

And then I heard Abiola race; the story that took away my first chance of having a real good election.

This went on…

After twenty- seven years dictatorship by the military regime, I didn’t know the twenty- three years of civilian rule will also amount to nothing… a silent dictatorship, more brutal than the former.

Well, Abacha left and I was ready to start anew.

With a man, whom I thought too good to carry on. But all I got after eight years was a third term and more confusion than there have been.

Again, a man was introduced to me, I was not ready to give up, at least not after he declared all he had.

I thought it was time to reap all that I have sowed, hmm, too bad.

This man dragged me slowly, and I thought I might turn cripple. He explained though, and said it was due process.

I tried to be patient.

You would think that the due process worked, but this is the story after three years of due process:

Seven pointless agenda

Insecurity; roads have become death traps for motorist and even robbers have capitalized on that.

Darkness is now a way of life, it does not matter anymore.

Just recently, I recorded another long strike for a man that was once a lecturer.

Do you think I just worry too much as a fifty year old? Or I should be patient till
I am sixty at least, or may be eighty?

Because right now, this man has not only disappeared for almost eighty days and back, he has returned on rechargeable chips to tell what to do, may be.

What do I do?

These are what bothers a fifty year old who is not better than a five year old, I am not sure anymore, may be I should just give up.

If a man that can barely shift on his bed says he wants to take care of a fifty year old, what hope do I have? I am not trying to be pessimistic, this is the truth.

Oh! I almost forgot; or is a jezebel trying to take over?

This is what this heart has been bearing for fifty years.

Just thought you should know, may be your prayers might work even when I don’t believe anymore.

Yours Sincerely
NIGERIA… good country, still hoping.





27years military, 23 years of civilian rule.