MEET THE NIGERIAN WRITERS SERIES BOOKS AND THEIR AUTHORS

Have you heard about the Nigerian Writer Series (NWS)? No? It is a publishing imprint of the Association of Nigeria Authors (ANA) modelled after Heinemann’s African Writers Series. The Series was started with a N 10,000,000 grant given to the Association by Governor Aliyu Babangida Muazu of Niger state in 2012. Ten manuscripts were selected from a pool of fifty four by the Series Editors and published in 2014 by four publishing consultants to the NWS: Parresia, Krafts, Jemmie and The Book Company. Here are ten yummy servings from the NWS kitchen and I, am thrilled to be your guide.

Cat Eyes Cat Eyes is the story of Pededoo, a country boy, who struggles to maintain a civil relationship with his father who had just returned home after many years abroad with a family of Cat Eyes (a white family). But Pededoo is however hardly able to resist and truly dislike Melissa-Jane, that charming and dashing cat-eyed blonde. Cat Eyes is a bildungsroman, a book of family, adventure, self-discovery and love that would take readers on a voyage they would hold dear. Pever X’s real name is Pever Martins Paul Aondofa Marie. He is a trained accountant, student member of the Institute of Chartered Accountants of Nigeria (ICAN) and Managing Partner of PEA and Associates, a firm into everything in the book industry. In 2013, Pever emerged first runner up for the ANA Prize for Prose Fiction with his book, Cat Eyes. He lives in Makurdi. Cat Eyes is his first book.

Crimson Clouds Crimson Clouds is a rollercoaster ride into the world of deceit, power, crime, politics and relationships. It is the story of two people from extreme worlds who decide to fight for their right to love each other against all odds. In the process, they find themselves on a quest for justice and become the hope of a nation that wishes to bring evil-doers to justice. While written with a political nuance and a plot that progresses fast, ‘Crimson clouds’ is ultimately a love story that explores love as it rises above difficult circumstances and triumphs in a world, turned upside down by greed and injustice. Ayodele Arowosegbe is an essayist, literary blogger, and media professional. His works have appeared in SAGE, a lifestyle magazine, and Inscribed, an online literary magazine. In July 2011, he co-founded the Literary Café, now LitCaf Nigeria, an outfit that seeks to promote creative writing as a social consciousness in Nigeria. Ayodele completed a Masters degree in Media Enterprise at the School of Media and Communication, Pan Atlantic University, Lagos. He currently does freelance media consulting and blogs at Ideology’s Corner. Crimson Clouds is his first Novel.

Cupid's Catapult Cupid’s Catapult is a collection of twelve short stories set in Nigeria, depicting how love relationships often begin and blossom. From Lawrence who comes to Amina’srescue in Baggage to Love, until we meet Kate in Subtle Changes, who after her stepfather’s death, moves to her benefactor’s house where she slowly loses her heart to Jude, Cupid keeps aiming and shooting, spinning this universal emotion as he pleases. The stories in this collection show us the many faces of love within life’s potpourri of laughter and pain. Above all, they urge us to keep believing in love despite all odds. Hannah Onoguwe spent most of her growing-up years in Jos where she discovered her love for writing. She studied at the Universities of Ibadan and Jos. Her work has appeared in various journals in print and online. She enjoys travelling and has a weakness for romantic comedies.

Patriotsts and Sinners Patriots and Sinners x-rays a typical under developed country bedevilled by corruption and sundry ills. Siella, the stubborn and self-willed daughter of the president is in the centre of the story. Siella refuses to school abroad, choosing instead to confront the rot in her home country. She becomes a victim of a high profile kidnap saga that brings her face to face with the rampaging evils that hold sway in the country she loves unflinchingly. When she meets the patriots, a group of deadly, dare-devil men, she is forced to see the other side of crime and to assess patriotism from a different angle. It is a story of love, crime, betrayal, corruption and above all, hope. Nnenna Ihebom hails from Mbieri in Mbaitoli Local Government Area of Imo state. She is married into the Ihebom family of Umuomi Uzoagba in Ikeduru Local Government Area of Imo state. She wrote her first story book, The Rejected Stones in 2007. Her novel, The Web won the ANA/Chevron prize for environmental writing 2009. She has a passion for Igbo writing and also won the ANA/Ken Nnamani prize for Igbo literature 2007.

Souza Boy Souza Boy is a moving account of a motherless Nigerian boy who is born in Cameroon and grows up with his father to become inextricably involved with the foreign surroundings in which he is birthed. But a sudden relocation into a supposed ‘Land of Promise’ soon casts a terrible cloud upon him and the bliss he once experienced abruptly turned into nightmares, a shocking experience from which he never recovers. The result is a gripping work of art – a work of art committed to its artistic values. The author, with remarkable deftness, takes his readers on a gripping voyage from Cameroon to the West African nation of Nigeria to produce a literary piece which is unputdownable. Elias Ozikpu is a playwright, auto biographer, novelist, student, and a social commentator. He was born in Souza, the Littoral Region of Cameroon but hails from Obudu, Cross River, Nigeria.

The Angel That Was Always There The Angel That Was Always There talks about single parenting in the Niger Delta. It is a true life account of the author who is himself a product of a single parent. Julius Bokoru is an essayist, historical-fiction writer and memoirist. His works have been featured on various local and international literary magazines. In 2012 the government of Bayelsa state named him among the 50 most influential people of the state for his literary contributions.

The Oath The Oath is about Ojeiva Jumbo, a poor school teacher, who realized he needed to get involved in partisan politics and secure power to save his people from the onslaught of poverty, violence and illiteracy in the fictional state of Azayi State. But this power did not come free as he required the assistance and connection of a powerful Godfather. Jumbo was made to take an oath to reward his Godfather financially when he becomes the governor but he will break this oath, drawing the ire of forces hell-bent on destroying him. Jumbo will however survive plots against him, including work hard to fulfil his mission in the government in this suspenseful political thriller. Habib Yakoob was born in Okene, Kogi State. He had his first degree in Mass Communications from Bayero University and second degree in Media Arts from University of Abuja. He has published several articles, and written many yet- to-be published short stories and poems. His play titled, The Ugly Ones Refuse to Die, published in 2004 has been on the reading list of secondary schools since 2006.

The Right Choice The Right Choice is a novel about a group of young military officers, who under the leadership of Brigadier Saleem Sa’ada, strike and overthrow the regime of General Danjuma. The new military government designs a five year transition programme to shift power to a democratically elected government. As the elections approach, the UPP, a political party, lobbies Sameera, a radical writer and journalist, to accept its presidential ticket. After a heated race, Sameera emerges victorious. She will instantly become a world political figure and set about to actualise her vision of a united economically and politically vibrant African continent. Zaharaddeen Ibrahim Kallah is a Kano born writer. He holds a B.Sc. Sociology/Political Science, and Masters in Development Studies. He is a bilingual writer, writing in English and Hausa languages. He works with the Directorate of Academic Planning, Bayero University, Kano.

The Threshing Floor The Threshing Floor is a collection of a dozen short stories that has just a bit of everything. From religious hypocrisy, marital infidelity and human deception and fraud, to spiritual mysteries, the limits of justice (in our land), the many and uncertain shades of love, and the redemptive value of suicide, Isaac Attah Ogezi skilfully and sensitively explores the human condition in its social, psychological and spiritual dimensions. The stories are both universal and uniquely individual as everyone can identify with one or another of the characters whose experiences are portrayed in The Threshing Floor. The author's mastery of language and power of narration will surely seduce any reader. Isaac Attah Ogezi is a legal practitioner and writer. His published works include: Waiting for Savon (2009), Casket of Her Dreams (2010), Under a Darkling Sky (2012), Embrace of a Leper (2013) and The Threshing Floor (2014). In 2014 he was nominated for both the Soyinka Prize for African Literature and NLNG Prize for Nigerian Literature for his Under a Darkling Sky.

Burning Savannah In the heat of ethno-religious riot in Jos, Emeka and Hauwa are in love. Unknown to them, Hauwa is betrothed to Hassan, the head of the Shura of the Muslim Brotherhood sect. Meanwhile, Special Agent Sean Porter is on a mission to uncover a plot by the Muslim Brotherhood to deploy biological weapons. The weapons are traced to Jos. Things take an unexpected turn when Hassan stumbles upon Hauwa and Emeka in a compromising position.

WORLD CUP: NFF, SUPER EAGLES AND NIGERIA'S CYCLE OF DISAPPOINTMENTS

The prognosis that Nigeria - the giant of Africa will fail or succeed in its race against 31 countries to win the 2014 FIFA World Cup has now been properly documented in the annals of history, but it does leave a few lessons for the Super Eagle, Nigeria Football Federation and Nigeria has a nation. Before the World Cup, there have been concerns in every quarter has to the performance quotient of the Super Eagles coupled with series of calls for the inclusion of some players which include Ike Uche and Osaze Odemwingie. Though the latter eventually got invited, questions were raised on the quality of strikers the Super Eagles had paraded. The super eagles ended their first match against Iran with a goalless draw, millions of Nigerians were left hearts broken, frustrated, disappointed, cursing players and demanding the retirement of Keshi. Following from his superlative performance at the Africa's Nations Cup, Nigerians had a lot of expectations based on his experience in his football career, with his success in taking Togo, Mali and Nigeria to the Africa Cup of Nations, and qualifying for the World Cup. It was widely believed Iran would be a game changer for Nigeria after having a draw with Italy, Mexico and Scotland before qualifying for the World Cup 2014. Even if the country fails to defeat others, we have players internationally recognized who can compete at the highest level so what could have gone wrong? In all honesty, our players were a shadow of those who lead the Nigeria to victory at the Africa Nations Cup, our Eagles wings failed to flap even before it took off, having Iran digging in deep, frustrating our players in the last ten minutes of the game, our players lacked the skill and competence and seemed to have little idea on how to break down a resolute Persian wall, where is the excitement and skill that won the Olympics less than a decade ago?. A major flaw in our first match is the act of indiscipline from our players, what is the essence of international recognized players when they play like amateurs in a serious tournament like the World Cup? The players did not stick to the plan and played as individuals rather than a team. Most of the players were left confused, not sure of what the next approach is, one could tell our lack of dexterity in our matches. Seasoned coaches understand that by substitutions the game changes, the Super Eagles are easily predictable, they lack speed, match stamina and clinical finishing. The zeal and hunger for goals is lacking, we had many chances with our ball dominance but we let it fade away, our international players were bench warmers in respective clubs since this past league season, our players lack the creativity and ability for midfielders to string penetrative passes and it had a huge effect on the game. Our possession of the ball was not borne out of superiority, but for the opponent’s preference to soak pressure in the hope of hitting the Nigerians on the counter. Our midfielders lacked the inventiveness on how to open the opposition defense, every counter attack played by Mikel went to a slow zone speed limit, no passion, There was little swagger and skill from the plodding African champions, as they lacked the ambition to win in the opening match, running up and down with no intention to score a goal. Even when the games got tough for the Super Eagles, there was no change in the striking department which makes the exclusion of Ike Uche a big mistake given his impressive performance for his Spanish club side. The match against Bosnia played at Arena Pantanal was better, has it could be considered “an evenly poised game”, It was balanced, fair but still lacked an aggressive attack which enables the opposition to easily decode their intentions off. Tactical dexterity was lacking in our second match against Bosnians, Keshi needs to devise tactics against opponents that best neutralizes strengths, identifies their weakness and exploits them. A good coach is the difference between victory and defeat and it can only be achieved by understanding the tactics of the game. Keshi should have made use of creative players instead of the less intelligent, clueless players in the match, Victor Moses and Osaze should have been more involved in the match. Our players were no match for their counterparts in other countries, it was obvious that the teams that prepared very well performed well at the World Cup, Right from the beginning of the tournament, it was clear that Germany, Argentina, Holland and hosts, Brazil would go far in the tournament not because of their football pedigree in World Cup but because their preparation towards their qualifiers and friendly matches clearly demonstrated their serious quest to win the tournament, the two finalists, Germany and Argentina, showed that they had one thing in common. Firstly, both countries had players that have been playing together in the last six years at the national teams. Secondly, most of their players are playing in top clubs in Europe and another factor that worked for both countries is that they have developmental programmes and good football administration. These qualities really helped the countries to go far in the tournament. Also with the fee payment row and bonuses saga before our second round match against France, which took the intervention of the Nigerian Sports Minister, Tamuno Danagogo, it was a classic case study of what off-field rows can it created unnecessary distraction to winning the World Cup, this was a classic scenario of what off-field rows can achieve in Team Management: it breeds disunity, and that was evident in our performance against France. Amidst the inefficiencies noticed in the team, it is important to note that this team was only built under two years ago in comparison to every other team that participated in Brazil, lack of accountability and allocation of payment and bonuses to players contributed immensely to the crippling of the Super Eagles One name which cannot be forgotten so soon in the World Cup is Vincent Enyeama, with his impressive exploit, and incredible saves especially in the last match against France, Enyeama has succeeded to engrave himself in our consciousness and those who were saving their legs for their clubs have also succeeded in making their history short lived. Players should begin adequate preparation before any tournament kicks off, our football federation needs to engage regular developmental programmes to groom younger talents for the national teams ahead of every World Cup. We need a more effective, young players rather than the same set of faces which has become the routine for African countries. Also, football administrators in Africa should find a way to be transparent with national players instead of insulting them in the media and pilfering their bonuses during a crucial tournament such as the World Cup. Granting coach Keshi a new contract for another four years and keeping the group while injecting new blood can only make the team better, Let’s also not forget that Keshi has brought the Nations Cup for Nigeria after 19 years of waiting and he became the first indigenous African coach to qualify a country for the second round of the World Cup. One would say he has done enough to prepare the team for the next African Nations Cup qualifier which kicks off in two months’ time, we can still go back to our drawing board and create an effective tactical approach that will bring the cup home. Surely, together we can win! Folashade Akintayo is studying Communications at Bowen University, Iwo. She is currently undergoing an internship at Caritas Communications, a foremost PR firm in Nigeria.

The Ink Salon Movement begins in Nigeria

The Ink Salon takes its ideology from the bourgeoisie salons of 17th and 18th century France, where Intellectuals gather to discuss important intellectual issues outside government Influence. The Nigerian Ink Salon is set up to mirror a public sphere that engages participants in interactive, intellectual discussions,with emphasis on the intellectual evolution of the Nigerian woman. Starting this February, the Ink salon will host monthly events in Salons across Lagos. Activities in these events will include book readings, music, spoken word poetry, social forums and health discussions. The Ink Salon is organized by Ayodele Arowosegbe and Tosin Akingbulu, both masters students of the School of Media and Communication, Pan-Atlantic University. The Ink Salon can be contacted on ideologyera@yahoo.com, 08167758503, https://www.facebook.com/groups/732077290137915/ Follow on twitter #theinksalon

The Critical Point(Part 3)

She was looking very beautiful and radiant, although she had her veil drawled over her head and across her shoulders. She smiled at me, her smile was comforting. “What troubles your mind?” she asked softly. Then, she came and sat beside me before I could answer. Today, it still seemed a sort of irony to me that the first contact I made with Miriam was a discussion on political matters. That day, I shared my feelings with her. To my surprise, I realized that Miriam was not only very intelligent; she was also versed in the political matters of our Nation. However, her views were in conflict with mine. Miriam believed the problem lies in the false unification of non similar entities. To her, Nigeria is like a combination of strange bedfellows that have been brought up to look at issues of life from different perspectives. They can never agree on issues. She believed the only answer lies in the complete dissolution of the country and breakup into its component parts or else, very soon, there would be cataclysmic consequences. At a time, she looked at me straight in the eye and said: “The elites and the upper middle class of this country are so far above the rest of the citizens that they have been disconnected from the reality of the futility of uniting this country.” Eventhough, my discussion with Miriam that day ended up posing more questions to me about the future of my country; I had met someone who would become a soul mate to me. From that day, we became friends. Later, we became very close friends and soon, we became inseparable. Despite being a Muslim, Miriam was cool minded and liberal in thought and expression. This was against my perception of Muslims as conservative, violent, vengeful creatures who were enemies of change. Sometimes, when I confronted her with questions concerning Islamic violence, she would shake her pretty head and tell me it is not about the religion, it is about the people. She told me stories about her native town, in Northern Nigeria, about the extremities of using religion as a weapon. Of course, she always had her own version of the story every time we heard news of violence in the Muslim dominated Northern Nigeria. In her view, those acts of violence were just evil and selfish acts, perpetrated under the guise of religious fundamentalism. Unfortunately, the direct perpetrators are also victims of people who take advantage of their poverty and unemployment, to use them for political purpose. No matter how much drama we attached to it, these acts are political, rather than religious. One day, I went to Miriam’s home. I had meant it to be a surprise, so I did not tell her I was coming. I reached the house and saw Miriam crying. Immediately she saw me, she wiped her tears and asked me to give her some money. That was the first time she had ever asked me for money. I gave her some money and did not ask any question. Later, she told me what had happened. “My siblings had not eaten for two days. I needed to find something for them to eat and it seemed all hope was lost. Thank you very much Akin.” I was surprised. Miriam could not be more than nineteen. Was she supposed to be responsible for taking care of the family? “What about your parents?” I asked. “My father died three years ago, fighting for ECOMOG in Liberia.” “What about his entitlements?” She smiled sarcastically and shook her head. “You ask as if there is justice in this country. The government told everybody that billions had been spent in promoting peace in Liberia, yet my father and thousand others perished without their families receiving any compensation. Where do you think the money went to?” “At least your mother should be able to take up responsibility.” She shook her head sadly. “My mother separated from my father a long time ago.” At that time, I really felt sorry for her. At a tender age, she had been left alone to battle the storms of life. “I had just come back from a futile attempt at getting a part time job when I found my siblings crying. They told me there was no food in house and they had tried in vain to get something to eat. Fortunately, I had bought some rice at the market on my way back. I decided to cook. Unsurprisingly, there was no kerosene in the stove. There had been a total blackout for the past three days so I knew using electric stove was out of it. There was no money to buy kerosene, so I rushed to the sawmill to get some sawdust to use as fuel in cooking. However, to my surprise, there was no single grain of sawdust. One of the security men told me the sawmill had been dormant for four days. ‘N.E.P.A has refused to give us electricity.’ he told me. ‘What of your power generator?’ The man shook his head and smiled. ‘Haven’t you heard about the new fuel price hike? Deisel is so expensive now that our company will go bankrupt if we run on generator.’ Frustrated, I had returned home, trying to think of how to get something to eat. That was when the thought of the predicament of this country overcame me and I started crying. Akin! I was weeping for this country, not myself.” The day the ultimate tragedy occurred, I was in my room, having an afternoon nap. Two days earlier, Miriam had told me she was traveling to her mother’s village in Eastern Nigeria. I was half-asleep when I my phone rang. Reluctantly, I picked it, angry at the fellow who had disturbed my peace. However, the first voice I heard was Miriam’s. “Hello, Akin.” she said in a frail voice, and instantly, I had an inkling of danger. “Miriam, what is happening? Tell me!” I asked desperately. “Akin, there has been an accident. On the road, near Awka.” Her voice was so weak that I was instantly overcome by a bout of terror. Inwardly; I prayed it wasn’t as terrible as it seemed. “Miriam, where are you now?” “I—am in the hospital, I am on the floor. They brought us here three hours ago.” “Oh God!” I exclaimed softly. And they haven’t attended to her! “Akin.” Miriam called; her voice was getting weaker now. “There isn’t enough bed space and the doctors are on strike. The nurses are only attending to the Ibo people amongst us. I---” she gave a loud gasp. “Miriam!” I called. Inwardly, I was fuming at the hopelessness of the situation. “Akin, I am losing blood. Tell my siblings about what has happened.” At that point, the situation was becoming clearer to me. Miriam was dying and I could not do anything to save her. I bowed my head and cried, sobbing loudly as I heard the dying gasps of Miriam. Ten minutes later, she died. When Miriam died, something also died in me. My belief in the problems of the Nation as mere challenges in Nation building vanished. I realized that there is something fundamentally wrong with my motherland. Yet, something new was born in me. The tragedy of Miriam’s death had aroused in me, a new quest for the institutionalization of justice in my country. I realized that if the fundamental identity of my Nation is not redefined, then we are merely postponing the evil day. I remember the parable of an old man, who gave three coins to his four sons before he died, telling them to share it equally. After his death, instead of trading with the coins, the children fought over the coins and destroyed one of them. Each of them gave birth to a son and the remaining two coins also passed to the second generation. Like their fathers, they also quarreled over the sharing of the coins and destroyed one. Now, the third generation has only one coin to spend. My generation is the third generation. We are in a critical point in history. If we fight over this coin and destroy it, there will be nothing left to give our children and history will not forgive us. But if we wisely trade with it and get more coins, then we will earn our place in history. The ultimate destiny of man on earth is making his world a better place.

Critical point(Part two)

hen I got to the University, my ideological basis was shaken. I saw students who were more miserable than I had ever imagined. I saw some of my friends like Chidi, struggling to pay our meager school fees. I couldn’t understand it anytime Government increased the fees and students cried out. Throughout my childhood I had never felt special or privileged. I thought my life was the life of the average Nigerian kid. I never considered my parents rich because everybody around me was like me or even living better than me. Perhaps my parents had deliberately sent me to a federal government university so that I could see the true face of Nigeria. For the first time, I had to drive through some of the densest parts of the Lagos mainland from my home on the island to get to school at the beginning of the semester. On those rare times, I had a glimpse of the degradation and hopelessness that pervaded the land. Often I got stuck in a traffic jam before getting to school. I drove through shanties and ghettoes; landscapes so horrible in their ugly state that you wanted to cry for the people who live there. Yet you remember that they are people; men and women like you who have dreams, hopes and aspirations. They are not animals. I drove past kids hawking water in sachets while they were supposed to be in school. I witnessed police brutality and corruption; a man slapped repeatedly for about twenty times just because he did not have money to bribe one officer with ugly tribal marks on his face. Yet it was always the poor that were being victimized. I felt ashamed when they allowed my car go, seeing that I looked like someone whose parents would be connected to some powerful people and then stopped the driver of the ragged car behind me just because he looked like someone that could not muster the connection or resources to fight back. The police extort and brutalize the weakest people in the society. These were glaring realities in a city where some people live in mansions behind high walls, separating themselves from the misery outside. The elite rich have insulated themselves from the hardships imposed by their own irresponsible leadership. Many poor, like Chidi’s father are suffering because the government is making them pay for the greediness of the elite. That day, after Chidi’s outburst, I went to the classroom and sat down staring at my book, but my mind was in tumult. I was pondering over the issues troubling my mind when I heard a voice behind me. “So the rich also feel sad.”

Critical point

In my deepest grief, I mourn the demise of my precious one. Looking out through the window of my room, staring at the raindrops falling gently, I feel a deep loneliness, so deep that I feel empty. The bore in my heart is too deep, is there anything that can fill it up and make my life whole again? I doubt it. Yet, beyond the emptiness her death has left behind, lies a new passion. Beneath my deep misery is a new sense, a new awakening that has opened up my eyes to another misfortune which, though, is the root of my calamity, supersedes my own grief in its catastrophic proportions. The debacle of my country is a great tragedy that has spurned in me, a determination to work passionately for the liberation of my Nation. Sadly, the true paradox is that my motherland is not yet a Nation; it is still struggling to be one. I have realized that, if the root problem is not solved, then more kinds of my tragedy will occur. In my deepest torment, I tried to gather the pieces of the story together. I remember with nostalgia, the good times I had with her and how it all ended in tragedy. Yet, no matter how much I could figure out, everything still remains a puzzle. Even the inception of our affair was a mystery because I never thought I could find love with someone so far from me in background and ideology. I met Miriam in the second semester of my first year in the university. She used to sit at the front in the class, behind the window, just opposite my left, back seat. I used to be a womanizer and my eyes usually wandered around the class from time to time to scan the faces of pretty girls in the class. I had gone out with many of the girls and earned a reputation as a Casanova. Of course, the girls fell at my feet like ninepins; I was the Don Juan of the class. By the second semester, they were beginning to bore me, and I was going to other departments to have a taste of something new. However, this beautiful, veil-wearing, mysterious Muslim girl had always elicited a strange curiosity in me. One day in a psychology class, my eyes darted towards her in the extreme front right. Suddenly, we made eye contact. She flushed briefly, then looked forward to concentrate on the lecture. I thought I saw her blush but I wasn’t sure. That was when I realized that she was very beautiful. After the lecture, I tried to speak to her but she avoided me. After several other attempts, I decided to forget about her. But she continued to linger on in my mind though I occupied myself with other things. She was a challenge I needed to overcome; a problem I needed to solve. One day, Chidi, my best friend and roommate received a bad news, his father had just been retrenched in the civil service, and he sent to him that he had no means of paying the school fees of his five siblings. I met Chidi under the oak tree in front of the college; he was full of hatred for the Government. “Akin, look what these bastards have done to my father. After twenty years of selfless service and three months without pay, they threw him away like a dirty rag!” He waved the paper in the air, his eyes glowing with anger. I tried in my best way to console him to no avail. I am lucky enough to have come from a family that was comfortable enough to provide for all my needs, so I never knew what it meant to be living from hand to mouth. Of course, I couldn’t understand Chidi’s predicament, I couldn’t comfort him though I tried. “Let’s just hope they will call him back. Or, they will pay up his entitlements.” Chidi looked at me in the eye, his eyes were red. Slowly, he shook his head. “No Akin. This country is doomed, nothing works anymore. There is no more truth, and the day truth dies in a nation, the people’s trust also dies and eventually, the nation dies for want of truth.” he said softly, but firmly. Then, he stood up and walked away. Throughout the day, Chidi’s words continued to haunt me. Although I knew there were problems in my country, I looked at them as minor challenges in the process of National development. My father is an engineer in a multinational oil company that pays well, my mother is a senior accountant in an auditing firm. My parents built a house in Victoria Island where we lived. I went to expensive private nursery and primary schools run by rich companies. My secondary education was the same. I went to a boarding school, fully owned and managed by foreigners. I had escaped the horrors of the terrible Nigerian educational system. I met children from very wealthy families and other ones from families that were just as rich as mine. Due to my upbringing and non-exposure to the horrible side of my country, I had come to think of my family as the normal Nigerian family. Never did I know that my family was just one of the 30% that could be said to be living above poverty level. W

Call for Submissions: ANA - NICO Short Story Collection (Nigeria)

The Association of Nigerian Authors is pleased to announce a call for entries for a short story collection sponsored by the Nigerian Institute for Cultural Orientation [NICO]. The anthology will comprise of the best submissions and will be released by August 2013. • Theme: All stories should deal with aspects of Nigerian culture, interpreted widely. • Length: Under 3,000 words. • Submission: All entries are to be sent via email to bmdzukogi@gmail.com with the subject “ANA/NICO [title of submission]” • Format: Entries should be sent as a single MS Word-readable document in 12 pt, Times New Roman Font, double spaced with pagination. All entries must be accompanied by a separate attachment providing a 200-word bio and full contact details. PLEASE NOTE: • For entries to be eligible, they must not have been published in print in Nigeria prior to submission. The Association reserves the right to remove a story from the collection on discovery of prior print publication. • Online publication in magazines, blogs, and journals etc are not affected by 1. above. CONTACT INFORMATION: For queries/ submissions: bmdzukogi@gmail.com Website: http://ana-nigeria.com/

Chimamanda reads 'Americanah' at the Terraculture, Lagos

"Saturday, April. 27, 2013, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, speaks to Associated press during an interview in Lagos, Nigeria. Modern life in Lagos, Nigeria's largest city, has become almost a character itself in novelist Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's new book, "Americanah." Within its pages, one catches self-acknowledged glimpses of the writer herself, who shot to fame with her previous novel, a love story set during Nigeria's civil war entitled "Half of a Yellow Sun." - (AP)

Litcaf Nigeria organization opens Nigeria's first Book cafe at Yaba, Lagos. Its a place you can hangout, read some books and enjoy a cup of coffee. The opening ceremony takes place on march 2nd. award-winning music diva, Jodie is performing. There will also be several side attractions and many notable figures in the Nigerian arts and entertainment sphere will be around. We are expecting you at the event Please visit the website and like the company facebook page. www.litcafnigeria.com http://www.facebook.com/pages/LitCaf/309510485814650

My lost Poem

Part 1 One quiet morning You walked out of my life And took along with you A vital part of me. You took the poem away from me Just a moment ago You were the sunshine of my life Cause while you were here Your radiance illuminated my heart And caused the poet in me to flourish Just a moment ago You were in love with me You were the song of my life Your love was a sweet song to my heart Like star-crossed lovers Your heart blended with mine And the synchrony created a rhythm Rhythm so sweet it was my song My song and my poem Now the perfect rhythm of my heart has been broken Ever since you left And has been replaced by a cold emptiness A bitter feeling of lost rhythm and broken songs To be continued

What Happens

What Happens? Times without number I wonder what it's like thereafter Many times I ponder in my mind The deep mysteries of life Ever thought of what it's like To be gone out of this life? Ever had the feeling of dying? And it seems you are flying Because you are leaving this realm To sojourn among the dead Sometimes I get curious About what will happen after the horror? Of plunging into the abyss of total darkness When your sojourn in this world ends And the dark clouds of death descends To grip you in their vicious tentacles What happens? Will everything end as it starts? Or will life be gone in a flash? Care to know what follows? After death has dealt his final blow If you've ever had the experience Of that special moment When you transcend And get out of this natural form Then tell me what lies beyond.

Ada's Dreams. Episode 3

"Ada!" She lifted her head and saw him. She quickly wiped her tears as if she was embarrassed that he had caught her crying over him. "You are all the same. You men are all the same; to you this is just a game." He moved closer. "I can explain" She shook her head slowly. "Well, I knew from the beginning that it was all fantasy, it was too good to be true. But I started hoping against all logical reasoning until I had my heart crushed. I was so silly to almost fall into the same trap, a second time.” There were tears in her eyes. "I am sorry." he moved closer and tried to hold her. She jerked off his hand. "Go back to your girlfriend. She is beautiful, sophisticated and---" “And I don't love her!" he yelled. He held her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. His eyes suddenly became sad. The same eyes she had seen that night and fallen in love with. "Ada I don't love her, I never did. She was the cross I had to carry all my life." his voice became solemn and sad. "I had to put up with her all these years because of family pressure. My family couldn't accept my marrying any other person but her. But when I imagined how married life with her would be, all I saw was hell" Ada started listening to him and suddenly she felt sorry for him. He continued. "When my father fell sick, he made me the managing director of the family business and made me promise I would marry Debbie. I had no choice but to agree. I didn't want to break his heart. Life became gloomy and dull. I took my mind off my troubles by living a carefree life. Then I came across the most precious thing I had ever wanted in my life and everything changed. I fell in love; I fell in love with you." He was looking directly into her eyes and the passion in his eyes was glaring. Ada took a deep breath. It seemed a huge weight has just been lifted off her. She looked into his eyes, they were filled with love. Finally, she was free, from all self-imposed barriers. She was in love with him and he was in love with her. That was all that mattered. With tears in her eyes, she flew into his arms. "Oh I love you too, I love you. I was so scared of releasing my heart, but now it belongs to you." He held her in his arms and rocked her like a baby. He kissed her lightly on the forehead and she felt the whole world fading and all that mattered was that finally, she was in the hands of her love and nothing would change that. He kissed her on the mouth and it seemed she was alone with him in the whole world and every other thing was distant. She snuggled against him, tasting the full sweetness of his mouth. She didn’t want to let him go, even for a moment. She didn’t even want to breathe. But he released her lips and said to her with his usual mischeivious smile; “You make me hungry.” She winked and replied. “Then eat me.” She winked and replied. “Then eat me.” And he did eat her. He turned her body into a landscape of pleasure. With his touches, with his kisses, he made her body quiver and crave for more. Her body was a canvas and he was the artist. He took her close to heaven several times and brought her back. He kissed her everywhere imaginable. Slowly, patiently, he explored her body; kneading, kissing, caressing as she held him closer, her hunger increasing with every touch. He was a mathematician and she was his equation. As his lips roamed towards the centre of pleasure, she let out a low groan and pulled her head closer. She wanted to feel him down there. She longed for his tongue to connect with her wetness. When he finally spoke into her core, it was bliss. He was a musician and she was his musical instrument. She sang to the tune their music with her moans. The music he made with her body was too sweet, she couldn’t take it anymore. She wanted to possess him as he had posses her. Gently, deftly, she removed his cloths. Then she started kissing him all over. He was giddy with pleasure. When he could take it no more, he lifted her and proceeded into the bedroom. A few minutes later, their bodies united as they held on to each other in bliss. Their clothes were on the floor. They tasted the sweetness of each other’s body as they made passionate love with utmost urgency. She felt him in her, so deep it penetrated into her core. Their lovemaking was music; it was pleasure, it was sheer bliss. As she climaxed, he reached out to her and whispered into her ear. “Baby I love you.” Minutes later, they lay side by side on the bed, their sated bodies gleaming under the bedroom light. She snuggled against him with satisfaction. He kissed her on the fore head. “I wish we could be like this forever.” Her voice penetrated the blissful silence. “We will be together forever, until death do us part.” She looked into his eyes. “What do you mean?” He smiled lightly as he played with her tousled hair. “Let’s get married.” She couldn’t say anything. The joy she felt in her heart was too big for words. She could only smile and nod her head. There would be problems, challenges but together they would overcome them and show the world that nothing could be stronger than love. For once in a long time, she felt a sense of awakening, of refreshing. As long as their love remained strong they would sail through the storm. He slept in her house that day. The following morning, he held her hand and led her out of the house. “Where are we going?” “We are going to my family to introduce you.” “As what?” “As my fiancée” She laughed for the joy in her heart was abundant. He laughed too, for he had finally found the most precious thing he had ever wanted. This time nothing would come in between him and his love, not his background, not even family sentiments, for their love was beyond sentiments.

Ada's dreams Part 2

The kiss had been brief at first. He lightly brushed his lips with hers. Then chemistry had set in. He had kissed her again as she felt herself melting into his arms. She had responded with equal fervour. She had tasted his lips, then his tongue, and it had all tasted sweet. She had felt her lines of defence crumbling. Somewhere at the bottom of her mind, something reminded her that she shouldn’t be doing this. But reason couldn’t prevail at that moment, not for her and not for him either. As they kissed, he had put a hand behind her to support her. They soon broke contact again as they sought to take breathe. Then the moment of reason had set in for her. As he brought his mouth close for a third kiss, she had mustered the last defence in her body and resisted. She had held her finger to his lips and shook her head to stop him. “Please stop, we shouldn’t be doing this.” she said desperately. The ride back home had been silent. She had scolded and chided herself for allowing it to happen. She had promised herself she would forget about him. She had not known how wrong she was until now. She looked at herself in the mirror and realized she couldn’t fulfil the promise. She had to see him one more time. She picked her wallet and brought out his complimentary card. She was going to surprise him this time. As she approached his house, she saw his favourite blue Porsche. But she also noticed a shiny, black Cadillac, parked close to his car. Perhaps he had a visitor. She walked up to the door and rang the doorbell. The door was opened and the sight that met her nearly shattered her heart. She found herself looking into the face of young woman around her age, wrapped in a towel. She was fair, pretty and sexy in a sophisticated way but she had on a cold, arrogant smile that made her affluent background obvious. She looked like someone that was used to getting what she wanted. “Hello, who are you?” the lady asked her For a while, Ada just stared at her, at the towel wrapped around her body and the arrogant look in her eyes. Imaginations started flashing across her mind. She finally managed to mutter out something. “I–I-am Ada. Pl–ease can I see Tunde” The lady smiled again and eyed her like one would eye a pestering insect. But she seemed to be enjoying her discomfort. “Tunde is in the bathroom. I am Debbie, his girlfriend, I just moved in yesterday. You can come in” Ada felt a tightening growing in her chest and the urge to cry grew in her. This was stark reality smacking her hard on the face. “No– there’s no need. Just tell him I checked.” She took one last look at the lady and fled the house with tears welling in her eyes. She had come to tell him how she felt about him, hoping that he would somehow tell her he felt the same way. But she now realized that she had never been in his mind at all. Everything he did or said around her was just a fling for him. Probably she was just a break from boredom; something to keep him occupied before his gorgeous girlfriend arrived. How could she have fallen for that? How could she be so stupid? She went straight home and sat curled up on the sofa, trying very hard not to cry.

Ada's Dreams

Throughout her time in New York, Ada never forgot the guy that had kissed her at the party. She could still remember his well sculptured face and his haunting eyes; piercing eyes that seemed to have their own touch. How could she forget such a person? How could she forget such a kiss? It didn’t seem real; it was like something that happens when someone is under a spell. The more she tried to erase him from her memory, the more she kept remembering him. Yet, she wondered what is so special about someone she happened to meet on board a plane and became acquainted with. Well, what was special was that she had allowed him kiss her on a first date. Just a brief encounter and the effect still lingered on like the after smell of a strong fragrance. But when she remembered how it felt when he gazed upon her, his delicious lips exploring her expectant mouth, she knew why. Maybe she was just being over reactive; a product of some hormones that might have been dormant for a long time, but now were suddenly being excessively secreted. Yes! It has to be chemical. She had not been intimate with any man for a long time since her break up with Bayo. Maybe it was natural to be reacting to an association with the opposite sex the way she was doing now, considering that she had been out of touch for a long time. Though she knew this was not a viable explanation for what was happening to her, it served as a kind of assurance that she was still normal and nothing strange was happening. Perhaps he had seduced her. The food was nice, she could remember, but the wine had tasted even better. The wine had made her drunk but it was his eyes that had made her weak and susceptible to his charms. They had eaten in silence. She was afraid she would say the wrong thing. After the meal, he had stood up and eyed her with a mischievous grin. Shall we dance?” He requested She had offered a weak resistance initially but he had persuaded her. He had led her to the dance floor while she followed like a sheep. They had danced slowly, close to each other, feeling the rhythm of each other’s heart. She had inhaled the fragrance from his body; sweet like the scent of roses. She had felt comfortable having him close, so close she could feel his breathe. Then he had shattered the blissful silence with the prodding statement; “Ada, tell me about your life.” There and then, she had trusted him and thrown caution to the winds. She had told him everything about herself; her family, her education, her past relationships, her heartbreaks and sweet moments. He had held her close with her head lying close to his chest and spoken soothing words into her ears. With deep, sad eyes, he had beckoned on her to bare all, to allow him share in her sorrow and help sooth her pain. She had trusted him more, deciding to tell him all. She had told him about the lowest point in her life, the most painful heartbreak, the love that had almost killed her and what had brought her to New York. She told him about the biggest secret of her life, she told him about Bayo. He had listened all through without saying a word, yet his eyes had spoken louder. His hands had rocked her like a baby and consoled her. The memory of sorrow had brought back pain so intense she had shuddered. She had clung unto him as if he was a lifeline. She had held unto her as if he was there to save her. Then he had kissed her.

Africa and The Ideology Predicament

It was the honourable nobel laureate, Professor Wole Soyinka, who defined a nation as “A unit of humanity bounded together by a common ideology.” In his book, the man died, soyinka explains that nations are defined, not just in terms of geographical boundaries, but also in terms of ideological boundaries, in which the latter is more important. It is against this background that I will conduct my analysis.

According to the Longman dictionary, a nation is a country, considered especially in relation to its people and its social or economic structure, or a large group of people of the same race or language. This definition is quite general enough, and it is convenient enough for the layman, who sees nation building from a narrow point of view, especially when we are not considering the context of national identity. This is not far from the definition of a country as an area of land that is controlled by its own government. Yet, the dictionary is considerate enough to create a distinction between the two; The nation and The country. One is geographical, the other is ideological. An ideology is a set of ideas and attitudes that strongly influence the way people behave. From Soyinka’s definition, it is easy to conclude that people from the same nation should behave the same way. Yet, the reality is a different story today.

Some fourty- something years ago, in the sixties; the great era of African liberation. Most African countries were granted autonomy from their colonial masters and became sovereign nations. There was great rejoicing, and much hope for the future. Africa was now ready to take her place in the league of nations. There was much optimism that the new African nations, having digested the heritage of their European colonialists, would develop at an even rate and at least be able to stand up to developed economies in the nearest future. A country like Nigeria was seen as a beacon of hope for the third world; a world that would become a respite from growing tensions in the tired economies of Europe in the future. The people braced themselves for the task ahead, numerous projects were embarked upon by the pioneer governments, and various political reforms were carried out. At first, everything looked good, the African economies managed to sustain stable economic development for a decade. Suddenly, there came a period of political crises, right from the mid sixties to the later part of the decade. For some countries, the crises started in the seventies and escalated at the middle of the decade. There were civil uprisings, political reforms were overturned, and economies suffered huge depression. Inflation soared at an alarming rate and sub-Saharan Africa was thrown into a serious economic crises that she has never recovered from. Since then, it had been a story of economic recession or redundancy, except for South Africa. It was as if the retreating colonialists had set a time bomb that was detonated in the seventies, and it’s chain reactions still manifesting in the 21st century. By then, the once tired economies of Europe and North America’s easy going economy were light years ahead, while that of the East Asian nations, whom the Africans thought were no better, were already aeons away. It became a sad reality to the world that Africa has been automatically left out in the scheme of things on the globe and it was going to take a frantic effort for her to recover and become a player, that’s if the world is not playing a different game entirely by that time. Of course, the rest of the world tried in their best capacity to rescue Africa. There have been several attempts at salvaging the struggling economies of sub Saharan Africa, with the developed nations, always playing their big brother roles. It seems that by the end of the last centuries, it was clear to them that there was little or nothing they could do, except to benefit more from Africa’s predicament. By this time, the Africans themselves had awakened to the reality that if they don’t help themselves, no one will. Several questions have been asked about why the much promising African states failed despite the efforts of their pioneer leaders. Though, we have examples of struggling economies all around the world, Africa’s case is quite unique, in that it is a crises that has engulfed an entire subcontinent. There have been several suggestions regarding what can be done to save Africa from this mess. There have been many attempts, and they have either failed, or resulted into another crises. The mystery of sub-Saharan Africa’s socio-political and economic misery has become the legendary Gordian knot that has defied all innovations. The most recent of such innovations is the IMF induced and capitalist oriented panacea ; deregulation, which allows for the price of commodities to be free of certain regulations. This, like its predecessors, appear not to have solved the problems, instead, leading to high rate of increase in fuel price and steady increase the rate of inflation in Nigeria, where former president, Obasanjo had instituted it as part of his reform agenda. In the light of this analysis, it is obvious that we have to look beyond the physical reality of the African states as we see them today, and study the African situation in terms of socio-political ideology. We have to see Africa as a people and not as a geographical milieu. This arises the need to differentiate between a nation and a state.

Valentine's love fashion arena

Fuel Subsidy Removal; Why we must not remain silent(Part 2)

Before the end of the last year, while the government was proposing to introduce the new measures, arguments had sprung forth for and against the controversial fuel subsidy. I followed many of the debates and listened attentively to both sides. It suddenly occurred to me then, why the government would be desperate to remove the fuel subsidy as soon as possible. The dictionary definition of subsidy says it is money paid by government to reduce the cost of producing goods so that their prices can be kept low. In the case of Nigeria, the commodity being subsidized is petrol while the money is being paid to oil marketers that import fuel in large quantities. The true definition of subsidy throws up the reality that fuel subsidy is not exactly the problem. The basic problem is the situation and system created by the feudal powers at the centre that makes it inevitable for government to subsidize fuel. Fuel subsidy is not the real problem and a times, it could be seen as a diversion from the main issues. What, therefore are the main issues?
Nigeria is one of the ten largest producers of oil, with large crude oil reserves and millions of barrels produced daily, yet petroleum products are not freely available and affordable. This is because the refineries in the country are not functioning and marketers have to import fuel from other countries, including non-oil producing countries like cote-divoire and Liberia. Therefore, when oil price goes up in the international market, Nigeria makes a lot of money exporting crude oil to other countries, but spends far more in importing refined fuel from these countries. The system makes fuel price vulnerable to market forces and the whims and caprices of greedy oil marketers, many of whom are aligned with government officials. The oil cartel that imports the bulk of Nigeria’s petroleum products is made up of capitalists. Like other businessmen, their sole aim is to make profit. Sometimes, they hoard fuel if there are prospects that oil price will increase so that they will be able to make more profits. In a normal society, government regulates the activities of the capitalists and keep their excesses in check. But in Nigeria, government simply pays them to keep the price in check and that is why we had not seen an astronomical jump in the price of fuel in the past. Nigeria is a true case of the oil paradox, whereby the citizens have not benefitted from the natural resources extracted on their land. Rather, they have suffered neglect, pollution, fuel price hike, poor electricity, and the obvious looting of their resources by their so-called leaders. How did things get to this? How did Nigeria become such a big mess to itself and the rest of the world?
A nation is a group of people bounded together by a common ideology. Therefore, a nation should not be described by the geographical boundaries of its land or the artificial state created to govern it. Rather, the nation should be defined by its peoples and their common, shared values. What this means is that Nigeria as a nation is not the geographical milieu around the river Niger, nor the mess of a government that oversees it. Rather, Nigeria is the people that populate this land and their identities; the igbos, the yorubas, the hausas, the fulanis, the ijaws, the itsekiris etc. I can categorically say that the Nigerian state was not formed from the collective ideology and aspirations of these people but from the forceful amalgamation of their lands and resources so as to serve the interests of the colonial masters then and our feudal aristocrats later. Nigeria therefore is not a nation. The unity we have is a fake unity and the nigerian state was doomed to fail from the onset. Yet, history has given us opportunity several times to look into this problem and address it, yet we have refused to act. Now, another opportunity has presented itself for us to address these fundamental issues.
A true federal nation is based on the fusion of component units, whereby different entities or ethnic groups come together to form a united government, giving out of their powers to this so-called central government. But in Nigeria, the situation is different. You first have the country and the powerful centre, then you start breaking it into artificial components. Check out all the states Nigeria, they are all artificial creations, and that is why the ethnic and religious tensions in places like Kaduna and Jos will continue. Our leaders in the past have had opportunities to conduct referendums, convene a sovereign national conference and review the faulty federal structure we have been operating. They have refused because of the personal greed and selfishness. My people, they will not be moved to act if we continue to keep quiet. They are benefitting from the status-quo. This is an opportunity for the downtrodden masses to rise up against this system and overthrow it. Let's call for a referendum now.

Fuel Subsidy Removal; why we must not remain silent( Part 1)

I woke up in the New Year to the news that the controversial fuel subsidy that has generated heated, intense arguments in recent times has been removed. Besides, a state of emergency has been declared in four northern states and the borders with Niger, Cameroon and chad have been closed. Immediately, I sensed that something unpleasant was unfolding on the Nigerian landscape. The last year brought about series of violent events that tore at the fabric of the Nigerian society. As we enter the New Year, Nigeria is gradually falling apart. The spate of bombings is increasing in geometric progression and we are beginning to see the prospects of an all-out conflict as the north is becoming increasingly militarized. Meanwhile we still have the half-solved problem of militancy in the south-south and armed robbery in several cities in the south. Things may fall apart sooner than imagined if the people start carrying out reprisal attacks in the south; an omen seen in the recent Sapele explosions.
We live in interesting times. Indeed, we live in dangerous times and we are treading on a dangerous path. Yet, of all times, the government have decided to go ahead with such a controversial policy as the fuel subsidy removal. The manner by which the president announced the policy, blatantly ignoring the voices of millions of Nigerians as if our voices don’t count is bad enough. But what gets me into livid rage is the response of the ordinary citizens of Nigeria who are suffering the hardship of the arrogant, wicked, selfish policies of our leaders.
I woke up on the second of January to discover that petrol is now selling for between 120 and 150 naira per litre. I boarded a taxi as usual to my destination. The transport fare has soared to double the normal price. As I sat at the far corner of the taxi, ruminating over the situation, I heard the other passengers complaining. Each passenger had something to say about his own ordeal in the face of the new, harsh policy. Then somebody asked; “What do we do now?”
The answer was almost a chorus among all the passengers. “There is nothing we can do but pray to God that we are blessed enough to be able to afford it.”
I was angry. What nonsense! I looked around their forlorn faces; it seemed as if they were all resigned to their fate. They had lost hope and surrendered their right to resist oppression. What is wrong with Nigerians? Why do we feel helpless and hopeless in the face of such denial of our basic human rights? Why do we feel it is our fate to be continually deceived and oppressed by our greedy, selfish leaders? Shame on you! Shame on all you Nigerians, who keep silent while you are being blatantly abused. The man dies in all who keep silent in the face of tyranny, says the Nobel prize winner, Wole Soyinka. Why are we silent? Why are the labour unions and pressure groups watching as the gangsters in power plunder our land?
I am angry, I am sad. I am angry because this country was built on lies, greed and selfishness. I am angry because the people in power have taken advantage of the pervading, potent lack of trust among Nigerians to perpetuate themselves. I am angry that the selfishness and greed of the Nigerian elite is tearing this country apart. I am angry because the gangsters that have controlled our resources for the past fifty one years have only thought of themselves and their immediate families. They are like parasites, feeding fat on the collective toil of millions of Nigerians and the crude oil in the Niger delta. All the political officers use free things. They ride in free cars, eat free food, drink free water and drinks, live in free houses; all provided for by the toil of Nigerians and the free, natural resources on their land. Is it not logical and moral that they should serve the people who put food on their table? Instead, they have sought to enslave them. I am angry because the collective exploitation of Nigerians by the elite has become so potent and pervasive that it has become a norm. The citizens expect to be cheated and deceived, the leaders want to fulfil their imaginations. Money is glorified in the society. We celebrate thieves and nonentities in the society without questioning their source of wealth.
Nigeria is one of the most religious countries in the world, yet it is also one of the most impoverished. More than half of the population live on less than one dollar a day. A dog in the United states has a higher standard of living than most Nigerians. The roads in the country are some of the most dilapidated and dangerous in the world. Several people die on these roads every day from accidents. Infrastructure has collapsed. Pipe-borne water is a mere figment of imagination for many, while regular electricity seems impossible. Yet an average Nigerian believes tomorrow will be better than today, despite having no logical plans to lift himself out of poverty. Each day, we look at each other, our smiling faces masking the suffering and hardship we face. We smile to numb our hearts to the pain and shame we feel within and tell each other ‘E go better’ This blind optimism in the face of such misery is what Fela Kuti referred to as ‘Suffering and smiling’
Nigerians love God. They love their religions. They love their religious leaders to a fault. If the average Nigerian Christian puts as much energy into fighting the injustice and deceit pervading our society as he prays in the church, then Nigeria would be e better place. Every week, and sometimes during the week, we troop into our places of worship; mosques and churches and shrines, our bright, eager faces a stark contrast to the degradation of our society. We sing and dance in the church, we chant and bow in the mosques and the shrine. We lift up our arms to the almighty and beg for him to provide, expecting miracles. Yet we fold our arms and do nothing but struggle to feed our mouths with the little crumbs we can get and hope our bosses will be more benevolent to increase our wages. We have slept off, while the vagabonds in charge of our collective resources are busy looting. We have kept silent and so the oppressors and the cheats think they can get away with anything they do to us. They have not only stolen our resources, they have stolen our pride, they have stolen our hope and left us deflated. This is the time to rise and get back our pride, this is the time to get back our hope. Nigeria, arise and fight!

The dance of life

On loud utterances

And vain promises
Our hopes lay
Desperately waiting for the rays
Of sunshine to penetrate
Our lives in the darkest state
For we have been held captive by fate
For so long a time that we faint
And our eyes have become shielded
Until the lid is lifted
We might never understand what we face
Though we run a good race
Our hopes lay flatly on chance
Even though we understand the dance
We fail to hear the lyrics embedded in the rhythm
And we are soon lost in rhymes
Confusion is our game
Vanity is our second name
Yet we continue on the endless journey
In pursuit of total joy
Even when we have money
It never satisfies our yearnings
It never quietens the voice within us that cries
Against the vanity in our lives.
The dance of life
Is a game of sight
Until we see with our mind
We will continue to be blind
Till we learn the basics
Of living life with simplicity.

Is another global conflict imminent?

With the volatile pace of political events around the world and the escalation of violence in the middle east due to the Arab spring, the world is becoming more polarized than it has ever been since the fall of the Berlin wall.

The issue of conflict in Libya and the rest of the middle east, has shown a great geopolitical divide among the 5 world powers that make up the core of the united Nations; China, Russia, United States, United Kingdom and France. We now know there is china and Russia on one side, being supported by the emerging economies called BRICS(Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa) and the trio of US, UK and France on the other side as the western powers being supported by western Europe and the so-called Nato alliance.

On tuesday, drama played out at he United nations security council as China and Russia vetoed a western-backed resolution to impose and threaten sanctions against the government of Syria, getting the US and her allies very furious. The emerging economies of Brazil, India and South Africa also refused to vote on the resolution. This means that UN can no more come out with a unanimous resolution.

How will this division play out? For some time now, there has been tension between US and China about imbalance of trade and continue US protection of Taiwan, which is supposed to be a Chinese territory. The Americans are now planning to impose sanctions on China even as the world economy staggers.

Are we seeing the emergence of a new world order or a prelude to a global conflict between the western powers and the emerging economies?
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