VILLAGE NOSTALGIA

 
This is the penultimate day of 2016.

I have not written nor read for days now. I have been bitter and I refuse to be consoled. Everything outside is turning rancid, sour.

Here I write to you with tears threatening to trickle down by cheeks. This is my first Christmas and plausible new year to be spent away from my hometown, away from our densely forested village.
All the years of my life, I have always travelled during this festive period and holidays. For the best part of our childhood and adolescence, Dad made 23rd December memorable. The day will move to the villa. Even as a corper serving in the farthest Northwestern part of country- SOKOTO, I still dared the almost 48hrs highway journey to be with my family at Christmas.

I have been in Lagos for about 5yrs now, and I have celebrated all my Christmasses in our villa. But this year I couldn't. Business schedule made it extremely impossible. Most of our consignments conspired and chose ETAs a day before and some days after Christmas.
I knew what I was missing in the villa. I tried not to think about them but Arinze made sure I had to mourn them.

Yesterday he called

"Hello, Benoooo, how far? Which side you dey? We dey T-junction with Ofodile, Nzube and Ik."
I replied him that I was taking care of some business in Lagos. Instead of ending the call he started singing praises to Nwanyi Eke Bush meat and palm joint spot located in our famous T-junction.
"Benoooo, you dey miss oooo. How can you miss out on this year's delicious bush meats? Freshly killed and hung adjacent to each other with blood still trickling down from them. We just pointed at one now and in few minutes we will be taking sweet bites off the anu nchi and sweeping down our oesophagus with freshly tapped palmwine as the transporter."

I wanted to say ENOUGH but his words came out faster than mine: "Mecus Mecus came back from Malaysia on 27th. Yesterday we went to Villa Park in Nnewi with some of his friends. Their barbecue and fish peppersoup were to natural. The fish scented and tasted naturally different from all these Lagos chemically-fed fishes."

He continued: " Omo come see babes from different cities sparkling and waiting to be 'hello'd'."

Quickly I cut in and told him I was married. What babes?!!!!

He apologized and asked after madam. Then continued: " Ehe, Stan is getting married on 31st, we were be there live in Awka-etiti. January 2nd I will be in Uga for Ostia Turkey's trad. Then on the 4th we will be heading to Aguata, that small Kingsley that left villa two years ago for Japan will be opening his Duplex. He will also be doing the funeral ceremony of his father that died 10yrs ago.
I said: no wahala. Enjoy.

Then he said: "please could you please go over to my street. Go to my house and check whether I locked the fuel tap of my generator se."

I ended the call before I could hear the "t" in set.

Christmas is best celebrated in your hometown.

Photo credit: www.mywanderlist.com

THE TRANSITION

We have created so many demarcation. Naturally the heavens halved it into DAY and NIGHT. The transition from Day to Night and vice versa is made clear by the Sunlight.

Then we took charge and started to dominate. Monday has all the same attributes of Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. And then on Friday, we psychologically TGIF. Same attributes of the other days except that more green bottles will be emptied, dancing and then other activities based on agreements.

Sunday presents the same attributes save that some 'Men' would have more customers and they would offer unsupervised services.

And so from whatever calculation we arrived at 365(+1) to make one year. So after 12 months we jump into another year. Man is wonderful.

We've made the world interesting and no one is revolting. We believe that today is 22nd of December whereas 22nd of December of the previous year was chilling with cold breeze blowing trees and dusts around ans about.

Then by 12:00 midnight on December 31st we will psychologically be moved into the next year. Same old January will come (though this time with expectations of unfreezing), Same old February and the likes.
But then same old 'men' of God will come to prophesy to you (No, rather you go to them) that 2017 will be your year of FINANCIAL UPLIFTMENT without offering you any business advice to save your present predicament and you will shout an Amen louder than that of a banger (knock out). Yet you tell your children not to blow bangers.

Another tells you that 2017 will be your year of DOUBLE PORTION without telling you who will be starving because you ate their own portion.

Yet another promises you a year of UNMERITED FAVOUR and you selfishly accept to steal someone's merit.

2017 will be your year of BREAKTHROUGH , but please don't go into 2017 with the same equipment so blunt and old fashioned it hindered your breakthrough all through the past years.

And again, don't go looking for DOUBLE PORTION. Be content with your own portion.

photo credit: theolympiantimes.com

DIOSCOREA SPP

In those days, we stole yams from the school barn and we were impunitive about it. Yam came up second among the list of foodstuffs stolen from the pantry section of our school. You know the first. Hunger has a metabolic pathway that always produces survival instincts. 

Our school had two campuses. One for the junior secondary and the other for the seniors. So it was announced that there would be a merger. We were crest-fallen. Junior students are not to be 'trusted'. They easily tell the truth and are easily made to say it VERBATIM with testimonies detailed with who said what, when and where. But we can do nothing about the merger. 

We were merged and things changed. But hunger didn't. So we had to continue the yam theft. But this time we became botanical about it. Dioscorea spp be it rotundata or cayenensis kept disappearing from the school barn. We had enormous help from the school farmer in charge of the barn. So the stealing went on unnoticed.

Until one day, the junior students were taught botanical names of some plants in Agriculture. They were ecstatic about the laugh-provoking names; Carica papaya, Zea may, Oryza sativa, Musa paradisca and Musa sapientum. They went about and around singing the botanical names. But because they have heard us constantly using the word Dioscorea they shouted euphorically whenever they got to it.

For the next one week, they made all sorts of jokes using dioscorea spp. We knew the code has been cracked. We knew the game was ending. But hunger was still there. So we changed strategy, we continued yam theft. But this time, we were discrete about it; " Guy, how far you get am?" Once your colleague doesn't name what he was talking about, then he was talking about Yam, dioscorea rotundata or cayenensis.
#manmustwack#

photo credit:http://www.rfpp.ethz.ch/fellowships/concluded_fellowships/amf_yam

UNIFORMED TOUTS

 

I thought TuPac is dead????

Owo mi da (where is my money)? is easily the most asked question in Lagos mainland. Popular amongst bus conductors and Omo Onile (landowners' sons).

The bus conductors deserve a payment for their services. But please who is owing the Landowners' sons (Omo Onile)????

Bus drivers, tricycle and motorcycle riders pay different kinds of levies for permits to ply the road yet there is this one that must be collected by glorified touts on the highways and byways. In the byways they mount roadblocks. On the highways they are allowed to carry weapons to threaten and sometimes hit non-complying bus conductors and okada riders.
So this morning, our bus driver and conductor decided not to comply. All attempts from the Omo Onile to collect their illegal fare was resisted by Dayo our bus conductor.

Uniformed Omo Onile: Owo mi da?

Dayo: who dey owe you moni? 

Uniformed Omo Onile: Aaarrrh. you wan try??

Dayo: Try wetin?

Other uniformed touts: Leave am, Tu Pac don dey come. Make him settle with Tu Pac.

The mention of the name Tu Pac got my attention. I have always been a huge fan of Tu Pac. His Dear Mama and Ghetto gospel always strike a chord in me whenever it is being played. After his death, it was rumored that he would resurrect. Maybe he did resurrect after all? I was curious. Thank God we were stuck in a traffic, so I will get to see him. But what's he doing here in Lagos and as a leader of Omo Onile. Anyway Tupac has always loved the ghetto life and he was a West coast rapper and Lagos is on the West too. It all made sense to me at once.

A tall lanky man with a hairless skull then appeared in front of our bus conductor. His "kilode" was too thick and deep-sounding that a doctor will quickly diagnosed a chain smoker, alcoholic and one who is 12 times as likely to develop a lung cancer. What has resurrection from the dead done to 'Tupac' I muttered. Dayo our bus conductor immediately brought out his fare of #100 and tried handing it over to 'Tupac'. A dirty slap landed on his cheek before 'Tupac' instructed one of his boys to collect the fare.

Our driver didn't talk again. Dayo didn't even utter another word in defiance. I kept pondering on the personality of 'Tupac'. The passengers maintained utmost silence. The fear of 'Tupac' is the beginning of ghetto wisdom.

Lagos state please take away miscreants from our roads. There are civilized ways of doing things in a Centre of Excellence.

photo credit: oexnews.com

COMMERCIAL CHURCH

 

Why do people keep signing these cheques? 

And when the postdated cheque is due for cashing, they discover it was a dud cheque. Nobody to be held responsible for they signed it themselves. 

The church is not a bank or a commercial office where cheques are signed, sealed and probably cashed. It is a place where sins are forgiven and souls made pure for eternal salvation. You don't go to church looking for money. Money is in the banks and in the streets. 

Let's reduce our gullibility. You go to a 'church' and you are asked to sign a postdated cheque with faith. Then you are cajoled into contributing a part of the unclaimed money into the pastor's coffers. On the day of cashing, the cheque turns out dud and you still don't read the scam?

Faith is not stupidity my dear. Stop impoverishing your family while enriching another's. Is it not incredible that your pastors move around with 2017 bullet-proof cars and then minister to you that with the church's stickers on your doors and cars, no weapon formed against you shall prosper? Is not rather shameful that your son hawks gala by the roadside yet you contribute to the building of schools which your son and probably his sons might not be able to afford?

Thank God Christ came before our time. Imagine if we are still anticipating His nativity.. Many of these today's pastors would have proclaimed themselves the MESSIAH. John the Baptist resisted the urge but our present day pastors would have grabbed the opportunity. Then we would have many 'Christs', many 'ways', many 'truths' and definitely NO LIVES.

FOR GOD SO LOVE THE. WORLD THAT HE CAME AT THE RIGHT TIME. THAT THE PASTORS OF TODAY CAN DECEIVE ONLY THOSE WHO CHOOSE TO BE DECEIVED.

photo credit: www.dreamstime.com

KEEP FIGHTING GOOD

DEAR READER,
Welcome to the most celebrated season of the year. A season everyone celebrates. For Christians, the joy of Christmas engulfs them. For others, the ending of a year and the great anticipation of a new year is quite thrilling.

From January to December you have fought a good fight.

First, you made so many resolutions with a great determination to see them through. A week after, you gave in. Then you re-resolved but this time it lasted only two days. You relapsed. But that is not weakness, the joy of Xmas and the hopeful anticipation of a virgin year are quite intoxicating.

But throughout the year, you have fought a good fight.

In the cold, in the rain and under the scorching heat of our tropical sun you labored for bread. In some days, you got a full loaf, some days paid you with half loaf. In some you got a few slice. Some rueful days offered no slice in return for your labor. In fact, some days even demanded some slices from you. However, you labored on.

The economy went into recession and you had to re-strategize. Your favorite carbohydrate increase by 100% in cost. Tomato prices tripled and meat became a diet for the rich. Iya Ibeji's food reduced significantly in size and you had to pay the same amount for this 'half chop'. Worst still, the company you worked for downsized and you were among the workers laid off. Jobless and your landlord gave you a quit notice. At least you had another three months before you exit his house. But Ginika was just wicked. A girl you have dated for 3yrs and made sure she lacked nothing just left you without a quit notice. George just came back from London and by next week according to the invitation which you read on Facebook: GINIKA WEDS GEORGE. RSVP. Your life's shattered.

Disappointments abound but you have survived till this day, this December.

You are a warrior and a survivor. Defeated on some grounds but you have recovered well and achieved De' Feat. Ride on bro. Step by step you will keep improving. There's always a light at the end of the tunnel. And even if the light cometh from a train, board the train and your next stop will be that the table of success.

Please don't try to impress another Ginika this December. There is a perfect lady for you soon and her name is not even Ginika. Concentrate on your own farm and harvest your produce. Don't attempt to steal or make use of another's cucumber. It can lead to blackmail, jungle justice and injustice.
Living till this moment is enough achievement. Do not listen to Curtis Jackson (50 Cent) who asked you to GET RICH OR DIE TRYING. There's no honour in being on the deathrow. There's no sympathy in Asia for drug trafficking.

Have the best of the season. It is a season of giving. Give and you shall be given.
Thank you

LOOSE YOUR CHAINS

 

If we do nothing, but make jokes from every national disgrace. Of we do nothing but scan through our social media accounts for jokes, comic clips and picture updates from friends and enemies. If we fold our hands and watch the destiny of ours and that of our kids unfold through the hands of this past and present system, then I can easily tell us that OUR FUTURE hold nothing. It's not rocket science. 

Everything is not normal. Yet we act normal. There is Fire on the mountain, and no one seems to be on the run, Asa told us. 

Every sector is a failure; politics, health, education, transportation etc.

Our educational system is affected the most. The best things we learn from universities is English speaking.
No exposure to knowledge. No complete practical. Even when a practical is concocted, no reasonable result is gotten. We spend years in our universities imagining and most times wrongly the things we were being taught. We pass examinations without fully understanding the concepts. Ask most Biochemistry graduates to differentiate amongst gene, chromosomes and DNA with exactness and watch the drama unfold. Ask the Microbiology graduates to explain with exactness the process of fermentation highlighting the unit operations and the enzymes involved and you see my point.

I spent years in the university passing examinations on some courses without full understanding. And when we dared to read further we failed and were called "I TOO KNOW". In one course, I was asked to explain a concept. I did, with detailed structures and eligible writing but I got 6/30. When I met the lecturer for an explanation, he told me blatantly that I was too detailed. Of course, in the examination I was as brief as his notes and I got 64/70. I made my first class knowing fully well I won't encourage my son to aim that high in academics esp in Nigeria.

Our engineering graduates can't even fix a bulb properly. Most read Literature and graduated just by answering "who said this, to whom, when and what was the implication?". We produce economists and accountants who can't even balance a profit and loss account seconds after their graduation.
Today, I have a post graduate examination on Nutrition. Of course I will pass (God blessed me that much). But I will pass answering elementary questions on Digestion of protein, carbohydrates and fats. So what's the difference between post graduate and junior secondary school?

The results are easily evident: Lawyers become entrepreneurs. Accountants become sales girls. Engineers hustle on the streets. Biochemists work in Banks. Journalists turn musicians. The basic advice becomes entrepreneurship knowing fully well that we are all unemployable in the real sense of it. Knowing fully well that the system is a failure.

Karl Max would have said:

" Nigerian youths arise. You have nothing to lose but your chains. You have your future to determine.

photo credit: www.brokenchains.us

BUS CONDUCTING ROLE

 

Yesterday with Ignatius will probably go down as my most memorable work day in 2016.

My itinerary was nicely scheduled to run from UNILAG to my commercial abode then home- perfect triangular arrangement, but then I met Ignatius. 

I have always known Ignatius since I finished my NYSC. We work in the same area. Last year he bought a bus which he claimed was suitable for ease of transporting his family and goods during outings and yuletide seasons. In fact last year, I was lucky to have traveled down to the villa with him and his family in his bus.

So yesterday, after I completed my postgraduate biotechnology in course, I walked straight to the bike stand to board one. The road was leading to LUTH entrance was as usual flooded with just the little drizzle from the night before. As I tried carefully with immaculate precision to circumvent the dirty flood, a bike man non-challantly designed my white t-shirt with a heavy splash of the milky brown water. He didn't even stop to offer condolence. 

There I stood totally soaked and dripping of brownish smelly waters. I had just answered some questions on Bioremediation and pollution and there I stood in anger pondering on the source of this water pollution and whether my newly bought t-shirt could be remedied by any laundry techniques. How can I even go to work with such dirt on me, I asked myself. But then I got a gratifying answer.

A loud horn from a bus sounded behind me. I turned and from the driver's side, a hand was waving at me to come. I looked closely and it was Ignatius. Hope at last.

Looking at my shirt, "ahh, Ben what happened?

"Igne, na okada man splash water on me ooo" I responded. 

He felt for me and asked me to enter his bus so he can drop me off. I told him I can't go to work again and he still insisted he will drop me off at my junction. I thanked him and hopped in. 

We got to the next junction and Igne started calling in passengers. I was awe-struck and he saw the surprise on my face. But he explained, since we were going that way, let him just pick these passengers and make some money for the family dinner then. I saw reasons with him after all this recession is really bad. I decided to show solidarity. We started calling in passengers. Two more junctions and bus was filled. Igne was driving and I don't need to be asked to collect the passengers' fares. Row by row, I collected their monies in my visibly stained white shirt, typical of a commercial bus conductor. I was speaking good English as I collected the money in order to passively communicate to the passengers that I wasn't a conductor, but just a conditional passenger. 

The man sitting on the second row was so pleased with my English and in order to appreciate, he asked me to keep his balance before going on to blame the government for my predicament: “Imagine, a young man with such fluency in English language working as a bus conductor.  This country has failed her graduates. Before I could turn to explain to him that I was just helping Igne out, the woman seated beside him had started telling the story of how her daughter who graduated since 2005 was now a sales girl at one supermarket in their street. The whole passengers joined in the discussion. Next junction and a young lady shouted: "Conductor, owa ooo." I looked at her with defeated eyes and she continued: "my change conductor ejoor.  No be me tell u make u finish school no see work." I looked at Igne to see if he would do something, but he was busy asking the lady to come down fast so he can carry another passenger. 

There was no opportunity to ask him whether he was now a bus conductor but my curiosity was satisfied at the next junction: the area boys approached his bus but on sighting him they began all forms of salutations and respect- baba, aja nla etc. He handed them #20 and they marked his bus. 

I felt played, used and dumped at the next junction. 

#he didn't even give me my own cut# 

photo credit: www.naij.com

THE FOOD THAT GOT US GOING

 

I can't really say with exactness why we loved it the more. 

In those years in boarding school, we had a strict dining menu. So strict, we knew exactly what would be served as breakfast, lunch and super all the days of the week. In fact it was so strictly followed that we had the right to go on a hunger strike without punishment, if the supposed and desired meal was skipped.

As teens, we were good with nick-naming everything and so our foods weren't exempted. Garri was and still is ASOKI. Yam porridge always deficient of vegetables was called 'ESAU'. Then there is this particular soup we really can't fathom the name so we named with 'SOUP WITHOUT NAME'. Rice and bean cooked together was known as 'COMBIDO'. 

But one stood out; loved, cherished, honored and always anticipated by all- PAP n BEANS. 

For the ease of pronunciation we nicknamed it ' PAMBI'. So great and glued was the love that I still remember at least three times for its serving: Monday morning, Saturday morning and Sunday morning. We would ask each other for confirmation "Arinze, hope today is the day for PAMBI?" ibegbunam would respond from his bunk as if the question was thrown to him: " of course, I even passed the pantry this morning for confirmation." Nobody wanted to miss the special delicacy. Whatever might bring a delay or a total miss of this meal was avoided as we braced up for the yummy meal.

Then we would sit in tables of tens, a big pot for the beans and the smaller one for the pap. Then in front of the table stood a sharer for the week on whose hands lay the quantity of PAMBI to be served in your plate. Woe betide you if you have unsettled issues with him.

First, he would ditch the beans and allow you to perfectly shift it to one extreme thus creating a semicircle with enough radius for the pap. Having added the pap, each and everyone of us would eat gloriously with fork and knife in observation of the refectory culture.

So happy that we have eaten that which had kept us alert and awake, we would go in for morning assembly and then morning classes. Before the mathematics teacher would be done with his Pythagoras theorem, the whole class atmosphere would be filled with 'poisonous' farts emanating from the gluteus maximus of sleeping students. 

PAMBI was the best regardless of the fart. In fact the fart made it more memorable. 

#PAMBISIMPLYTHEBEST#

photo credit: buzzfeed.com

CHRIST IS THE KING

Yesterday again we took to the streets, to the highways and byways drumming, chanting and dancing. The proclamation was very clear: "CHRIST IS THE KING." 

The dancing was vigorous. The chants were resounding and the joy was tremendous.

But what struck me the most was the indigenization. The slow, steady and simple way through which we have made Christ our own. We gave him VISA long ago when He was brought by the missionaries. We monitored Him for a while then accepted Him. We kept renewing His VISA and then finally we granted him citizenship. He became our own and no longer a western introduction.

Westerners would have marched in a single file singing dull and solemn hymns in procession. But we, NO!!!!! What they denied us in Masquerade entertainment we have found a way to exercise. Infact we even called Jesus the Masquerade stronger than other masquerades thus setting the stage for our traditional activities.
The dancing and name-dropping for Jesus yesterday was epic. Names like King of kings and Lord of Lords were too western, too outdated. We called him in our native tongues: ODOGWU KARIRI ODOGWU (Chief masquerade), OZOWARA ONAAA (March and go), AGADA GBACHIRI UZO ( road block ), BABA NLA (big father), AJA NLA (big fish).
Have you ever been to a king's Ofala? Yesterday's ofala was unmatchable both in terms of entertainment and spirituality.
The young man beside me at one time was a truly converted ancient masquerade. His dance steps let him out easily. His roars of praise was more 'pagan' than Christian. He introduced our Lord with the sound 'okoko-ko-kooooooooo'- an incarnational sound for the introduction of masquerades in the village. But it gladdened my heart to know that his was for the TRUE MASQUERADE.
The roars and chants were so loud they almost silenced the solemn recitations of the flower girls. I drew closer and listened more intently. In unison and adoration they echoed:

"O SACRAMENTUM SANCTISSIMUM (O SACRAMENT MOST HOLY)

O SACRAMENTUM DIVINUM ( O SACRAMENT DIVINE)

OMNES LAUS ET GLORIA TIBI SIT, IN SECULA SECULORUM ( ALL PRAISE AND ALL THANKSGIVING, BE EVERY MOMENT THINE).

Truly He deserves all praise. And the solemn recitations from these innocent girls blessed our numerous joyous agitations and 'mbems'.
Christ is ours and so we worship Him traditionally.

SOMEBODY KEKE DRIVER

 

There are things you just can't explain.  You just wish the other person will understand. 

The recession is really getting to us all and MMM gaining more popularity. The banks have tasked it's staffs to make extra efforts in winning over customers at all cost. 

So yesterday, an elegant lady walked into my office. I was still battling to see if I could pull off an Einstein in a post-graduate examination slated for Thursday.  I attended no class and I just received the course outline on Saturday. So my head was down and my eyes fixed on the downloaded materials which I was trying to make meaning out of, when she walked in. I thought it was the secretary approaching to relay a message.

But then the "Good afternoon Sir" sounded more like those recorded voice messages you hear when you call customer care line (or when they call you ). So I quickly looked up to match the face to an automated machine and lo, before me stood an elegant lady; tall, slender, her black suit well ironed and with a smile perfectly carved out from her cheeks. The smile and the position didn't change for seconds and I wondered whether she has been sent to perform the Mannequin challenge to customers in a bid to keep them happy and open more corporate accounts. 

I then responded: “Good afternoon dear. Can I help you?" You know, when a man says to a lady "can I help you?" he really wants to help. Same cannot be said vice versa. So I wanted to see if I can help her. She quickly introduced herself and her company, as if the rectangular rosette pinned to left of her suit pocket, slightly above her mammalian endowment wasn't enough billboard of where she works.

"Sir, do you have an account with us?" She inquired. I said yes. She asked for the type of account and when I said "Savings" She started selling the "Corporate account" type to me.

That was when I looked closely and noticed a familiarity. Out of curiosity I asked: “wait, did you take the NNPC aptitude test back in 2011 at Enugu?" She drew back a little and with surprise engulfing her countenance, she replied with a question-filled "Yes". Her name unlike the exam materials I was reading struck a chord in me: " You said you are Ifeoma?" 

She had placed her phones on my table during the course of her introduction.  I wanted to use her phone to call my line, but to avoid sending a wrong message across I reached for my phone. Scrolled up to Ifeoma-NNPC and dialed. One of her phones started ringing. We were thrilled and we looked into her phone at the same time: for me, it was to confirm if it was actually my number showing. What I saw got me uneasy, unsettled and even doubting my occupation: "BENJAMIN KEKE ENUGU." I tried hiding my disappointment but then she said: “wow. What a small world.  So you were the KEKE driver boy that took us to the Examination center?"

You definitely can't guess my next reaction.

Anyway, we had a nice chat and I promised to open a corporate account of my KEKE business with her bank.

photo credit: awkacity.com