September 7th, 2001: The once beautiful and serene town, Jos, Plateau State, Nigeria witnessed a violent crisis. Some called it a religious crisis, others said it was political, yet others said it was politics laced with religion. Who knows for sure? September 9th, 2001: World Trade Center bombings. There was no doubt in any body’s mind about the name for this one – terrorism.
Fast forward to September 20th, 2010. I remember clearly as if it happened yesterday. I was standing in front of the ATM machine of a bank, waiting in line to make a withdrawal. My mood was normal. The day was sunny and bright. The sun shone down on everything and everyone and I was feeling the kind of good you feel when you are going to withdraw money. My cousin was with me and we were chattering away about this and that. Nothing this day warned me that I was about to receive the worst news of my life so far. The time was about 10am and that’s when my phone rang. The caller at the other end delivered his message in one clear simple sentence: Sister, the chief has just died in hospital. For many years, we had called him ‘the chief’ and with that simple message, I knew my father was dead. I screamed and stopped listening while everyone started starring at me. I looked up at my cousin and simply repeated to him, the chief is dead and as I said it, my whole body began to shake and my world fell apart and the tears began to flow. The tears still flow at the memory of not being able to attend the funeral. Not because I didn’t want to but because he had left instructions that I shouldn’t.
You see, I was adopted as a child and didn’t even know it till I was, perhaps, 18. I will not go into the long story of how I found out but suffice it to say that it was an unpleasant experience and one that led to a series of hurts and pains between my father and I. It was most painful because I seemed to be the only person who should have known but did not know. And those who knew it used it to taunt me. When I found out, I confronted my father who reacted by becoming upset claiming that I disowned him after he had brought me up and educated me. He took far reaching measures such as calling his sisters and other relatives to tell them that I said he was no longer my father. He changed his will to remove mine and my children’s’ names. But worst of all, he left a last message: I was not to attend his funeral.
It was not enough that my father abandoned me in death. His other children saw to it that they did not speak to me in the events leading up to the funeral, during the funeral and up to this day. They came from overseas, attended the funeral and went right back without as much as calling or asking after me. My father has two other daughters and a son who have not spoken to me ever since. Even his sister, my aunt stood watch and made sure no one as much as mentioned my name. I was like an outcast. I am often tempted to call them or email them or just somehow, contact them. But I cannot afford a second round of rejection. As a friend once said to me, sometimes, it’s best to let go.
I loved you but you never understood. You said I was always fighting; I only wanted to be understood. You never put photos of me or my children on the living room wall in your house or by your bedside. That hurt. You told all your friends about my divorce. That hurt. You turned your back on my children, facing the wall when they came to say hello to you in your bedroom. That hurt. You could have just turned around to say hello. The last house keeper you had called me a bastard and said I wasn’t your child. How did she know? If I didn’t tell her, who did? That hurt. I looked at the programme of events for your funeral; my name wasn’t mentioned as one of your children. My sons were not included as your grandchildren. Oh, how that simply tore my heart out of my chest. Even in death, you hurt me. Even at that, I never stopped loving you.
I didn’t get a chance to say good bye but this September, as I remember you my father, I want to say good bye. I have cried my tears and right now, I am going to bury my pain. Next September, I shall remember my gain and not my pain.
Good bye father.
P.S
A friend of mine read my blog once and sent a message to my pastor to 'please help Anne'. Looking for help or pity is not the intention of my posts. My intention is to share my feelings and in the process, unclutter my world.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Thursday, March 4, 2010
What manner of men, what manner of nation?
So here we are still trying to figure out what the national assembly and senate and GEJ (Goodluck Ebele Jonathan)and whoever else is concerned, will do under the present circumstances. We are still trying to get updates on YA (Yar' Adua) and daily we await some news in the hope that something new and refreshing may be happening. Everyone is concerned about the state of the nation. Well, almost everyone for its obvious that in the midst of all these, some nigerians have become completely overtaken by the demons of self enrichment and utter disregard for human life. I guess you must have seen it or heard about those men of the underworld who attacked passengers travelling on the Lagos-Benin expressway. Passengers that had money and valuables were robbed. The story should have ended there and the passengers would have been grateful to God for sparing their lives.
But it wasn't to be so for many of those on the ill-fated bus. Those who did not have money were ordered to lie face down in the middle of the road and the bus driver ordered, at gun, to run over them with the bus!!!. And all this happened, according to the report, in broad day light!!! What a way to die?!
Welcome to Nigeria.
The picture splashed on the front page of Leadership newspaper (friday, February 26, 2010) is best described as gory. Only the strongest among us can afford to take a second look at that picture. It brings all the contents of your stomach to your mouth. It is hard to believe that the pieces of 'things' lying in the road and crushed as if it were ground beef, were only a few hours before, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, children and relatives of Nigerians. Only a few hours before, they were counted among the living.
These were ordinary Nigerians like you and I who left one destination in this country hoping to reach another. Their only crime on that day? They did not have money and valuables on them. Only yesterday, I saw David Mark and his colleagues hotly debating what should be done. The police boss and his men should be summoned, they suggested, the FRSC and the highway patrol as well. Do we have a functional police system in Nigeria. What the hell were they talking about? What for goodness sake happened to all the check points scattered along all the roads in Nigeria? Where were they when tax paying Nigerians were ground to death?
As I listened to them, my blood boiled within me. The powers that be may never come to such gruesome death. They travel mostly by air and when they travel by road,they always have money and security details with them.
I have no power to do anything and I usually don't subscribe to unnecessary calls for prayers. But this time, I want to say let us pray. Just for one thing: that those who were directly and indirectly involved in this crime will be brought to justice and very quickly too. Sadly, this is my world.
But it wasn't to be so for many of those on the ill-fated bus. Those who did not have money were ordered to lie face down in the middle of the road and the bus driver ordered, at gun, to run over them with the bus!!!. And all this happened, according to the report, in broad day light!!! What a way to die?!
Welcome to Nigeria.
The picture splashed on the front page of Leadership newspaper (friday, February 26, 2010) is best described as gory. Only the strongest among us can afford to take a second look at that picture. It brings all the contents of your stomach to your mouth. It is hard to believe that the pieces of 'things' lying in the road and crushed as if it were ground beef, were only a few hours before, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, children and relatives of Nigerians. Only a few hours before, they were counted among the living.
These were ordinary Nigerians like you and I who left one destination in this country hoping to reach another. Their only crime on that day? They did not have money and valuables on them. Only yesterday, I saw David Mark and his colleagues hotly debating what should be done. The police boss and his men should be summoned, they suggested, the FRSC and the highway patrol as well. Do we have a functional police system in Nigeria. What the hell were they talking about? What for goodness sake happened to all the check points scattered along all the roads in Nigeria? Where were they when tax paying Nigerians were ground to death?
As I listened to them, my blood boiled within me. The powers that be may never come to such gruesome death. They travel mostly by air and when they travel by road,they always have money and security details with them.
I have no power to do anything and I usually don't subscribe to unnecessary calls for prayers. But this time, I want to say let us pray. Just for one thing: that those who were directly and indirectly involved in this crime will be brought to justice and very quickly too. Sadly, this is my world.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Saudi Arabia......my turn to go
By the time you read this, I hope to be in Saudi Arabia. What?! you scream. Whatever for? you ask. Silly questions. As if you don't know that my president is there (or is he?). Well that is one reason i need to go there to find out if indeed he is there. Moreover, I used to think that the seat of power in Nigeria is in Aso Rock in Abuja and that is where the president is supposed to be. But these days, for every one time that Abuja is mentioned in the news, Saudi Arabia is mentioned 10 times. What am i supposed to think? That Nigeria is now operating on offshore capital? Anyway, back to what i was saying about going to Saudi Arabia. If you have not noticed, the vogue is now to constitute a four man or six man or one million man committee to go there and see how the president is faring. Members of the Plateau state house of assembly went some time ago and came back without any news for us. Members of the National Assembly are on their way i hear. All six of them if i am not mistaken. Your guess is as good as mine - they will come back as Turaised as all the others that went before them.
I think i am the only one that can get pass her. So i have decided that i shall constitute my own committee comprising myself, my aged mother, my two brothers, my two sons and some of my brother's children. About ten of us in all are on a fact finding mission to that country. And guess what? We shall be entitled to estacode, presidential flight to and fro, accomodation at the expense of the country. Indeed an all expense paid trip. Then if we are unable to see the president, nothing spoil...as they say. We shall spend some days extra just to make sure that we are unable to see him. In the meantime we shall eat, sleep and think at the expense of tax paying Nigerians. We will spend our estacodes shopping for the other members of our immediate and extended family and some hangers on. Oh, I forgot i am not a politician so i do not have any hangers on. But we shall spend the estacode in the best way possible.
When we come back, we shall let you know that we were unable to see the president and if you like, you can constitute your own committee and visit him on a fact finding mission. This is what i think: by the time one hundrend and fifty million nigerians fly to Saudi Arabia and back, someone will know for sure where and how the president is. For now, lets keep the tax payers paying and the rest of 'us' flying....that is my world.
I think i am the only one that can get pass her. So i have decided that i shall constitute my own committee comprising myself, my aged mother, my two brothers, my two sons and some of my brother's children. About ten of us in all are on a fact finding mission to that country. And guess what? We shall be entitled to estacode, presidential flight to and fro, accomodation at the expense of the country. Indeed an all expense paid trip. Then if we are unable to see the president, nothing spoil...as they say. We shall spend some days extra just to make sure that we are unable to see him. In the meantime we shall eat, sleep and think at the expense of tax paying Nigerians. We will spend our estacodes shopping for the other members of our immediate and extended family and some hangers on. Oh, I forgot i am not a politician so i do not have any hangers on. But we shall spend the estacode in the best way possible.
When we come back, we shall let you know that we were unable to see the president and if you like, you can constitute your own committee and visit him on a fact finding mission. This is what i think: by the time one hundrend and fifty million nigerians fly to Saudi Arabia and back, someone will know for sure where and how the president is. For now, lets keep the tax payers paying and the rest of 'us' flying....that is my world.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
The Power of N100
Never underestimate the power of your gift, no matter how small because you don’t know where a person is at anytime. That was the case with me when a friend of mine in Lagos, a student, sent me N3,000 during the crises in Jos. Another student in Canada sent me N14, 000 towards getting an accessory I needed for my computer. These friends will never understand how valuable and unforgettable their gestures and gifts meant to me and perhaps that was the case with Glory, an attendant I met in Abuja last week.
If you know Abuja, you know it could be a challenge to find a good place to stay on a budget. Well, I found one on this trip that was just the way I like it, plus, I could afford it (or more truthfully, my host could afford it on my behalf). From the moment I walked into the lobby, the staff was courteous and alert to their clients’ needs. In my world where customer service is more often perceived as customer favor by service providers, I was impressed. It was really one of those very rare occasions when I honestly felt like I was getting value for my money. The room rate included complementary breakfast and when I went for breakfast in the morning, the waitress on duty did not seem too enthusiastic about her job. Not rude or anything but she did not seem to be into the job like the rest of her colleagues. Purely on impulse, as I was leaving the restaurant that morning, I decided to give her a N100 to thank her for her service.
The next morning my phone rang at 830am. It was Glory calling to let me know that breakfast was ready. Strange, I thought, no one had given me a wake up call the day before. When I got to the restaurant, Glory opened the chaffing dishes for me, introduced the menu, reminded me to put sugar in my tea and generally doted on me throughout breakfast. Did I tip her for a second time? Your guess is a good as mine and as I was leaving, she asked “when are you coming again?”
Who says a little gift can’t go a long way in my world – and yours? Someone out there needs a N100 or multiples thereof. S/he can’t be that far.
If you know Abuja, you know it could be a challenge to find a good place to stay on a budget. Well, I found one on this trip that was just the way I like it, plus, I could afford it (or more truthfully, my host could afford it on my behalf). From the moment I walked into the lobby, the staff was courteous and alert to their clients’ needs. In my world where customer service is more often perceived as customer favor by service providers, I was impressed. It was really one of those very rare occasions when I honestly felt like I was getting value for my money. The room rate included complementary breakfast and when I went for breakfast in the morning, the waitress on duty did not seem too enthusiastic about her job. Not rude or anything but she did not seem to be into the job like the rest of her colleagues. Purely on impulse, as I was leaving the restaurant that morning, I decided to give her a N100 to thank her for her service.
The next morning my phone rang at 830am. It was Glory calling to let me know that breakfast was ready. Strange, I thought, no one had given me a wake up call the day before. When I got to the restaurant, Glory opened the chaffing dishes for me, introduced the menu, reminded me to put sugar in my tea and generally doted on me throughout breakfast. Did I tip her for a second time? Your guess is a good as mine and as I was leaving, she asked “when are you coming again?”
Who says a little gift can’t go a long way in my world – and yours? Someone out there needs a N100 or multiples thereof. S/he can’t be that far.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Of bloody civilians and men in uniform
Uzoma Okere and Abdullahi Abdulazeez must have been caught up in the euphoria of the democracy that Nigeria has been 'enjoying' since the 29th of May, 1999. How else could they have thought that as citizens of Nigeria, they had the right to drive peacefully along any Nigerian road. On that day in December of 2008, how could they not have seen the four naval ratings in the car behind them and even if they saw, how could they have dared not to give way to those men in uniform. How dare they?!
If you ask those naval ratings, they asked for it. They (Uzoma and Abdulazeez), bloody civilians as it were, had no common sense whatsoever that when you are driving on the road, any road, anywhere in Nigerian, and there happen to be some military persons behind you, you MUST make way and allow them to pass. It does not matter if in doing so, you endanger your life and the lives of other road users. For this lack of common sense, Uzoma was manhandled by four naval ratings: her blouse was torn, barebody from the waist up, she was dragged on the ground. Her body was bruised and battered but her fighting spirit had just been awakened.
She did not shrug off the incidence nor did she believe that there was nothing she could do. She took the matter to court and guess what? She won!! So last week, Uzoma Okere joined the league of millionaires as she was awarded 10million naira as damages for assault, ordered by Justine Opeyemi Oke. Now I am sure that Rear Admiral Harry Arogunade, the navy and the four naval ratings who were all jointly sued in the case, will not be treating any one as a 'bloody civilian' any time soon. Now that is what I love to see in my world.
Onovo Ogbonna is another man in uniform who has something against bloody civilians. Especially those married to women in uniform. The man believes that in the African culture, wives shouldn't take responsibility for housing their husbands. To drive home his point, on the 15th of December last year, he ordered all female cops married to civilians to vacate the barracks. Onovo seems to be confirming what I have known since I was knee high: that the police force on our side of the globe, has got its priorities all wrong.
If you ask those naval ratings, they asked for it. They (Uzoma and Abdulazeez), bloody civilians as it were, had no common sense whatsoever that when you are driving on the road, any road, anywhere in Nigerian, and there happen to be some military persons behind you, you MUST make way and allow them to pass. It does not matter if in doing so, you endanger your life and the lives of other road users. For this lack of common sense, Uzoma was manhandled by four naval ratings: her blouse was torn, barebody from the waist up, she was dragged on the ground. Her body was bruised and battered but her fighting spirit had just been awakened.
She did not shrug off the incidence nor did she believe that there was nothing she could do. She took the matter to court and guess what? She won!! So last week, Uzoma Okere joined the league of millionaires as she was awarded 10million naira as damages for assault, ordered by Justine Opeyemi Oke. Now I am sure that Rear Admiral Harry Arogunade, the navy and the four naval ratings who were all jointly sued in the case, will not be treating any one as a 'bloody civilian' any time soon. Now that is what I love to see in my world.
Onovo Ogbonna is another man in uniform who has something against bloody civilians. Especially those married to women in uniform. The man believes that in the African culture, wives shouldn't take responsibility for housing their husbands. To drive home his point, on the 15th of December last year, he ordered all female cops married to civilians to vacate the barracks. Onovo seems to be confirming what I have known since I was knee high: that the police force on our side of the globe, has got its priorities all wrong.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Does your hair feel like Obama's?
I stumbled across an old edition of EBONY magazine. The September 2009 issue to be exact. It had a lot of interesting articles and pictures but the one that caught my attention was a picture on page three of President Barack Obama bending over to 'accomodate the request of the son of a White House staff member who wanted to "see if the President's hair feels like mine". It made such a cute sight, all 6' 1½ (1.87 m)of Obama bending to have this little boy touch his hair just to know if it felt the same. I smiled, put the mag down for a while and went into thinking mode. I was motivated to do one thing - touch my president's hair. But there may be a problem with that. I would need to find him first. And even if I knew where to find my president, I have no illusions that I would be allowed to go anywhere near him or his hair even if I were a harmless four year old.
This was not a gesture of pretense for Obama. And I doubt that it had any political undertones. It was a show of simplicity, availability and humility. Words that have no business being in the same sentence with the names of most political office holders in Nigeria. I am amazed at the access that most citizens in the developed nations have to their elected officers including the President or Prime Minister as well as governors and other representatives. I believe that this kind of access makes it possible to know what the people who voted you into power need. It provides an avenue for strategic collaboration and problem solving between the elected and the electorate for the overall development of a community.
In Nigeria of course things are.....a little bit different, to put it mildly. We may have the power to vote but we are yet to have the power to access and assess those we voted into power. Maybe we will be able to touch the President's hair - someday.
This was not a gesture of pretense for Obama. And I doubt that it had any political undertones. It was a show of simplicity, availability and humility. Words that have no business being in the same sentence with the names of most political office holders in Nigeria. I am amazed at the access that most citizens in the developed nations have to their elected officers including the President or Prime Minister as well as governors and other representatives. I believe that this kind of access makes it possible to know what the people who voted you into power need. It provides an avenue for strategic collaboration and problem solving between the elected and the electorate for the overall development of a community.
In Nigeria of course things are.....a little bit different, to put it mildly. We may have the power to vote but we are yet to have the power to access and assess those we voted into power. Maybe we will be able to touch the President's hair - someday.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Little did we know.......that as we prayed
Saturday the 16th. My elderly friend and her husband thought they would celebrate 50 years of marriage and 50 years of her husband being in politics. 50years of marriage is worth celebrating but 50 years of politics? No comment. Naturally the task of organising the celebrations fell on Mama as she is fondly called. A crowd puller, she brought the creme de la creme of Jos society together.Her desire was not only to celebrate, but to pray together for Plateau State.
So there we were on that beautiful Saturday evening. I heard some of the most inspiring and thought provoking speeches from politicians and reverends alike. Every one, it seems, wanted a Plateau that could once again be known as the Land of Peace and Tourism. And so we prayed and asked that the good Lord himself would grant us our desires.
Sunday the 17th. A very normal day it was until about late morning when the rumors started. And then the rumors turned to fear and fear turned to reality. The reality that, Jos had erupted yet again. Those who went to church early that morning found it difficult to get home as commercial transport was scarce. As I walked home, I could see in the distance, a thick cloud of smoke and people said a church was up in flames. A truck load of police men passed by and fired shots indiscriminately into the air. I began to wish I could fly home.
Mondy the 18th. I reached out for my radio as soon as I was awake. The newscaster announced that some Moslem youths had quote 'without any provocation' unquote, attacked some Christians on their way to church. The rest is now history.....or is it? The christian women and youths in some parts of Jos whose houses were burnt took to the streets in protest, the women half naked I heard. They refused to let any vehicles pass through the area. They vowed to sleep in the streets as they have no where to go. In the process one youth got gunned down. Every where you turn, there is a different version to the story. We may never know what really happened. What we know for sure though is that 'they' planned as 'we' prayed on Saturday with mama and her husband, and prayed on Sunday in our different churches.
Elsewhere in the world, development is being achieved at the speed of light and here we are, caught in the passion of religion. I am told that every religion preaches peace. Hmmm, I doubt if those women who who lost their houses two days ago in the religious crisis would agree with that. Actions, they say speak louder than words and we know by now that NOT all religions preach nor practice peace.
So there we were on that beautiful Saturday evening. I heard some of the most inspiring and thought provoking speeches from politicians and reverends alike. Every one, it seems, wanted a Plateau that could once again be known as the Land of Peace and Tourism. And so we prayed and asked that the good Lord himself would grant us our desires.
Sunday the 17th. A very normal day it was until about late morning when the rumors started. And then the rumors turned to fear and fear turned to reality. The reality that, Jos had erupted yet again. Those who went to church early that morning found it difficult to get home as commercial transport was scarce. As I walked home, I could see in the distance, a thick cloud of smoke and people said a church was up in flames. A truck load of police men passed by and fired shots indiscriminately into the air. I began to wish I could fly home.
Mondy the 18th. I reached out for my radio as soon as I was awake. The newscaster announced that some Moslem youths had quote 'without any provocation' unquote, attacked some Christians on their way to church. The rest is now history.....or is it? The christian women and youths in some parts of Jos whose houses were burnt took to the streets in protest, the women half naked I heard. They refused to let any vehicles pass through the area. They vowed to sleep in the streets as they have no where to go. In the process one youth got gunned down. Every where you turn, there is a different version to the story. We may never know what really happened. What we know for sure though is that 'they' planned as 'we' prayed on Saturday with mama and her husband, and prayed on Sunday in our different churches.
Elsewhere in the world, development is being achieved at the speed of light and here we are, caught in the passion of religion. I am told that every religion preaches peace. Hmmm, I doubt if those women who who lost their houses two days ago in the religious crisis would agree with that. Actions, they say speak louder than words and we know by now that NOT all religions preach nor practice peace.
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