LOST BUT FOUND...

Thank God it’s Friday because it’s exactly a week to Kayode and Halima’s engagement and wedding ceremony. Since Kayode put a ring on it around 2 months ago, Halima had not spent a night Thursday through Sunday outside her fiancé’s apartment. The sunrays hurt Kayode’s retina as Halima pulled the curtains. She was all dressed in her bespoke skirt suit, all made up, and ready for work but she had to get her spoilt hubby out of bed before heading for work. It was a deliberate trick she always pulled to disrupt his sleep and get him ready for work. Kayode used the back of his palm to shield his eyes as he begged for her to pull back the curtains. It was of course a futile appeal as she reached for the curtain of the other window and pulled fervently. She had made her man a club sandwich and added a bottle of water and a can of Malt. She pulled the duvet off his torso to expose his anatomy to the “Moscow” the A/C had created. That was the final and most effective trick in the bag that got the job done. ‘Ah! It’s past six already?’ he exclaimed. Kayode kissed his bride to be goodbye as he dashed for the bathroom.




It was past noon now, and Kayode couldn’t help but worry about his fiancée. It was quite unusual she hadn’t texted or called. The norm was a text informing him she was at work, then a phone call much later during her lunch break for a chat. Kayode dialled her phones but could not get through after several attempts. After his lunch break, he resumed work suspicious something just wasn’t right. He tried to conclude a few reports on excel sheets, and reply a few emails but he could not focus on the job at hand. After punching in a few figures, he would pick his phone and dial Halima’s numbers again. He repeated this exercise every other minute but it was the same result. Each time he gazed at his timepiece, anxiety gripped him. When he finally looked up, the wall clock read half past 2 p.m. Kayode couldn’t take it anymore, so he reached for his phone and decided to call Halima’s colleagues at work. None of them knew her whereabouts and they all seemed not to have seen her at the office all day!




Kayode started to sweat profusely as he called more colleagues of Halima at work that had not seen her all day. He called his own family and Halima’s family, but they also had no clue. He started cogitating on who else he could call. He had run out of ideas or should I say people and was left with no other option but her old friends back in her university days. The same ones he had demanded she completely stayed away from because he felt they were a bad influence. Kayode was one desperate dude, and needed answers fast. He swallowed his pride and called the outlaws; each one of them in a very courteous manner. They all had no clue of her whereabouts like all others he had called earlier. Kayode left the office premises without saying a word and drove straight to the Police station to report his fiancée’s disappearance. By now, the whole network of friends and families of both Kayode and Halima had put her picture up on all social media to raise awareness of her vanishing. Everyone got talking from Lagos to London as friends of the couple tried to comprehend what could have happened. But no one had any idea what transpired from the point Halima stepped out of Kayode’s residence around 6:30am to that moment.




It was past 6pm now so Kayode put in a few more calls including his uncle, a retired Police officer who in turn called the Inspector General of police. After a lengthy chat over the phone and lots of questions directed at Kayode who was already getting irritated by the countless questions, the IG immediately made a few calls to DPOs of stations briefing them about the whole incident. He also issued orders on the deployment of officers and all other logistics in strategic areas to conduct a thorough search for Halima. Kayode was kind enough to let the police know she didn’t take her car out that day which was also quite strange. Kayode received a call from the IG around 8pm assuring him of the safe return of Halima back home as his best men were behind the search. It didn’t make Kayode less anxious, he was thinking of all possible predicaments that could have befallen his bride to be.




If this was a joke, it was not funny anymore for Kayode. This was the worst Saturday of his entire life and that wasn’t up for discussion. He and his entire family had retired at Halima’s mother’s house anticipating hearing some encouraging news from the police. It was now officially over 24 hours since Halima was declared missing. Kayode’s mum sat beside her distraught son occasionally patting him on the back complementing that with some encouraging words from the scriptures. Halima’s family on the other hand was remarkably upbeat though. They repeatedly affirmed their trust in the ability of the police to unravel the mystery and ensure their daughter’s safe return home. ‘I have not in any way killed anyone’s child, so it is not my portion to bury my child. She will come back home in sha Allah’, she said as she raised her hands up in supplication to a supreme being up there. Her gold rings could not hide her ashy knuckles though, but Kayode’s mum ensured she reminded her son to be as positive as his in-laws.



It was past 10 p.m. now and every time a phone rang, almost everyone was expecting it would be the IG or even news that Halima was safe and heading home. This time it was Halima’s mum’s phone. Hadiza, Halima’s younger sibling handed the phone to her mother. “It is Uncle Abdulsalami”. Kayode met him years ago. Back when Halima was still studying at university. He was their uncle who was quite generous and always at their family functions. A retired military officer, Halima had told stories of his generosity and how he had played their father's role after their dad had disappeared leaving their mum with 2 kids to cater for all alone. It was General Abdulsalami that sponsored Hadiza’s masters programme in the United States. He also bought shops all over Lagos for their mum, not to mention the state of the art unisex salon Halima had set up on the Island to officially open after her honeymoon because she planned to resign after marriage.




Halima’s mum’s conversation with Uncle Abdulsalami was monosyllabic. Eventually she handed the phone to Kayode as the General had requested to speak with him. He reassured Kayode all was well and that he is confident his good friend; the IG of police had everything under control because he has got an impressive track record in similar cases. He apologized for not being there because he had issues to attend to in the United States. What a great lad Kayode thought to himself.




Sunday night came and Sandra, Kayode’s mum was with her son upstairs in his rented apartment. She was getting worried and rightly so. Her son had refused to eat or drink anything all day. He refused to even speak to anyone too. Suddenly they heard Tonia, Kayode’s cousin scuttle up the stairs, yelling “She’s here! She’s here!” Tonia was ecstatic but Kayode didn’t believe a word of it until he dashed downstairs like a mad man to confirm if truly it was his sweetheart. He hugged and squeezed her, then lifted her off the ground before he spun around eventually bursting into tears uncontrollably. Halima joined in the act which provoked teary eyes across all those that stood in awe of 'true love'. While Halima narrated the horrid tale of her kidnap to the police, her fiancé put his left arm across his woman’s shoulders while his right hand held on tight to Halima’s as both rested on her thighs. Mr. “lover man” was just glad to have his woman back, while Halima’s mum kept praising 'the benevolent and merciful'.




The wedding ceremony came and there I was with an old friend from high school listening to Kayode give the vote of thanks. We had not seen each other in over a decade, but thanks to Kayode’s wedding, we were reunited again. General Abdulsalami, 'father of the day' was back from the United States just in time to attend the best day of his niece’s life. While I was sharing a bottle of wine with my friend, he decided to share a tale with me. He drew nearer and started conversing in a hushed tone. It was a stunning revelation. He claimed he was in Dubai the day Halima was adjudged to have gone missing. There he alleged he saw General Abdulsalami with Halima cuddling and kissing at the lobby of the Burj Al Arab. I would have slapped the story right out of his mouth before he started but I was set aback because I knew he had not seen the General before, neither did he know Halima that well, so linking them together was quite strange. He did not even know Halima went missing so he must be telling the truth, right?




I couldn’t help but stare at Halima’s mother who looked overjoyed at her daughter’s wedding, dancing her ostentatious self away. She must have known about Halima’s ploy all along I thought to myself. I shook my head repeatedly. I looked at the poor love struck Kayode who might never get the truth behind his wife’s disappearance that fateful day. You can judge my friend and I for all I care but there is no way in hell this dirty little secret of ours will leave this table. We do not want palaver like Fela; we will just be merry and celebrate with the latest couple in town. Conjugal bliss!!!!!!!

SUNDAY RENDEZVOUS

Sunday is not a day you look forward to commuting around SE London except you’ve got your own car to twirl around the capital. The horrid experience varies from engineering works to diversion of routes or even terminals shut down disrupting your entire journey. I was the third to show up at the bus-stop, and been standing there for about 45 minutes. Now we got more company including the notorious “9ger” mothers with their king size buggies that stunt double as a carriage for their kids and more irritatingly storage for items they bought in the convenience stores. This makes the pram look like a power bike taking up all the space in the bus. In this borough, it’s common place for buses not to show up on time or even at all on Sundays. You plan to the time schedule of the bus at your own peril. The weather was quite nasty and I was heavily strapped to face it. I wore a hat, tied a scarf around my neck, and wore my thickest jacket. I was starting to lose the battle to the weather when I caught a glimpse of the bus. “Lataaro” one of the “9ger” baby mamas bellowed. I hissed and shook my head. She had been in the bus-stop barely 5 minutes. So I got off the bus and walked down my childhood friend’s neighborhood. He had asked me to come join him this Sunday to worship at his church. I obliged. I hadn’t’ been to a church in over 7 months although I kept abreast with the religion watching BBC ONE Christian themed programmes. They were refreshing, inspiring and always touched me to have a silent moment or two with my creator. That way, I ensured I wasn’t influenced by my atheist housemates, who by the way were very nice people but just didn’t buy into that religion “thingie”. In my own opinion, they were even more morally upright and better behaved than most of us. We gave each other a hug and a pound. Last time I saw him was back in Uni in Accra, Ghana. He had eloped to the UK for greener pastures anew. He was looking good, pristine and of course had developed the British accent. Well almost. “We’re getting late mate, let’s hit the road yea”, he said. So we jumped out and embarked on our journey; Jehovah witness approach I must add. He was looking all crispy; all black everything, from his fitted shirt, to his tailored fit pants and his “wet looks” brogues. Only his earrings and jewelry weren’t black. Richard wasn’t wearing a scarf, a jacket or any fabric to protect him from the cold. I didn’t want to be forward but after a few hundred meters, I had to kill my curiosity. “Are we going to get a jacket from a friend’s place before heading to church?” I quizzed. “Nah don’t be silly mate, down here, we are used to this weather yea”. As we continued our journey, I couldn’t help but notice the goose bumps all over his neck and arms, plus he clinched his fists so as to suggest he wasn’t exactly immune to the weather as he claimed. Then his voice kept getting faint as he kept sniffing, but rather than getting reprimanded for doubting his harsh weather resistant prowess, I opted for saying “pardon” repeatedly because I could barely hear him as time wore on. Finally we got to our destination. Outside the church’s parking lot, Richard was exchanging pleasantries with his friends. He introduced me to each one of them. Their cars had sound systems that left their rear view trembling and lyrics from one of D’banj’s numerous songs bumping out “she wouldn’t leave me alooone, always calling my phoooone, file! Ha!!” I yelled my name each time I got introduced as I shook hands with the lads. It was the only way they could hear me. One of the lads was smoking something that didn’t look exactly like a cigarette and he could barely open his eyelids. “ya right maite” he asked me in a Tesco lorry driver accent. He then offered Richard the jumbo, and Richard didn’t hesitate. He took a couple of long drags of the lighted thing and gave it back to Bob Marley. So we finally entered the church. All the females I could see at the lobby looked trendy. In fact, they were dressed to kill, and from their outfit, majority if not all were eligible to model for the apple bottom brand. I had to snap out of the lustful thoughts starting to creep up on my mind. People on the left side of the lobby were on a queue to drop their jacket for some lady for keeping. So Richard asked me to join the queue and I gladly obliged because the jacket was quite heavy. It didn’t take long before I realized the service wasn’t free of charge. I heard miss jacket keeper say “2 pounds please”, to the lady in front of me. As I gladly joined the queue, so I left it. 2 pounds I thought to myself. I’d rather walk back home chewing on a bar of snickers. I signaled to Richard that we should join the service. He looked bewildered as I was still with my jacket but when I asked if I’d be arrested by Scotland Yard if I didn’t drop it, he moved on. The praise worship was my favorite part of the service. The choir, the band and the songs blew me away and made me realize what I’ve been missing live. The sermon then followed shortly after, which was centered on one thing only. How tithes can propel you to your prosperity in life. He backed up his claim with a story of a poor woman that “sowed a seed” by committing her very last penny as offering in church, and after a few years of trading became a millionaire! It must have been oil bunkering I thought. It was during this period people were busy with their phones, showing off all types of sophisticated gadgets or even sleeping but with a pose the preacher couldn’t detect from the podium. After the sermon, Ushers now came around to collect envelopes they had temporarily dumped on each person’s seat. It must have been the envelope the preacher was referring to when he was talking about sowing a seed or something along that line, scrupulously describing how to fill the form in the envelope depending on the audience’s choice of legal tender. I took a quick glance at the form. It looked like one of those Natwest forms requesting for sort code and account number to initiate a standing order. Swiftly I put the form back in the envelope and gave it back to the usher the way it came. I believe in miracles, but committing to monthly deductions as a student, living in a foreign land with no relatives and no job at the moment isn’t testing but provoking the wrath of God. Then the ushers came around again, this time for the offering. I had on me my ATM card, 2 Pound coin and my bus ticket. As I stretched to drop my widower’s mite, Richard slapped my wrist hard. “Two quid? Are you kidding bruv?” I was disoriented for a minute because I didn’t know what I did wrong. He hastily squeezed a note in my hand and gave me the sign to drop it in the usher’s basket. It was a 5 Pound note. I now realized that offering that 2 Pound coin might sully his reputation in the church. Well, it’s his church, so again I obliged. Soon as the service was over, I was given a welcome form to fill. Every detail I gave was false including my name and bank. I dragged Richard along letting him know I wasn’t interested in the entire “you’re welcome in the name of the lord” shenanigan. Manchester united was about going up against Liverpool in less than an hour. As we walked past the lobby, I directed my gaze at the drop dead gorgeous lady in charge of keeping people’s jacket. Ears plugged, she was reading a novel and didn’t look up. I wondered if she could follow the service from there or even listened to the sermon. I hurriedly walked past the church’s parking lot to realize I was walking alone. When I looked back, Richard had for company two beautiful women. I dragged myself back to meet up with him after they had exchanged digits. “I know you. From Lagos in Nigeria right?” one of the ladies asked in a fake British accent. I wasn’t in the mood, and besides she wasn’t my type. “No, I’m English”, I responded with a straight face. Richard got the message and bid the ladies farewell. “Let’s take a cab bruv”. I didn’t care so long we got home for the match, it was all good. In the car, I had to ask Richard why we took a cab this time around. He didn’t disappoint me with his response. It was all a show for the two ladies he was chatting with earlier. One thing is for sure, I’d stick to my BBC ONE Sunday programmes for now. My GOD is Omnipresent.

The Eve of Saint Valentine's Day.

The struggle to keep my eyes open was grueling. But each time I managed that feat, I noticed another personality looking worried but feigning a smile when I glanced at them. I was breathing heavily through the gas mask and I could hear the sound of beeps either from the bed or the ventilator alarm. Sharp pains were taking turns all over my body. My vision was hazy. My ever dependable mother was at my right side accompanied by my sister. She wrapped her hands firmly around my wrist, looking all worried as usual. My sister was quite the opposite, upbeat as always, just like me. We share the same personality. She managed a cheeky smile, ignoring the antics of her witty son beside her. My nephew was holding a floating balloon with a message reading “get well soon”. On my left, gathered my friends who had to step back as soon as the nurse walked in to observe my condition. It wasn’t all a dream and I could not believe she wasn’t here to see me.


It was last year, the first week in December, seventh day of the month to be precise. I and my friends just finished playing our routine Wednesday night football after work when they called my attention to this strikingly gorgeous woman. She was on the other side of the boulevard walking gracefully as she placed every step so immaculately on the tarmac. She wore sexy sports apparel that did justice to that “Beyonce” type of frame. My friends went berserk like in Tom and Jerry when tom the cat sights a drop dead gorgeous pussy cat. They deployed all sorts of unruly behavior from whistling, to sign language. Our Beyonce just smiled and blushed at their boisterous deeds. Quite remarkably, I was quiet the whole time. It was very uncharacteristic of my persona. After all, my friends bestowed upon me the moniker “King David” for obvious reasons. I guess I just wasn’t in the mood this evening.



I left for my car to head home, leaving the dogs to keep acting the fool. I looked up to have a quick glance at her one last time. Damn! She was worth every anti-social behavior I thought. After flying open the roof of my coupe, I drove off saluting my associates. On making the u-turn to head out of the estate, I saw Beyonce yet again; this time, I caught a full glimpse of her face upclose. She looked all too familiar. As I drove past her, I could tell from her body language she thought I looked familiar too. I looked at my rare view, and I caught her looking back trying to recollect something. On impulse I pushed the stick to “R”. I noticed she was waiting on me already.



“Look I’m sorry if this sounds cliché but I’m afraid you look really familiar”. I was anticipating a rude response the way she was sizing me up and while trying to recollect if she knew this irresponsible man trying to chat a lady up on the road. “Muyiwa”! She exclaimed. I nodded. She screamed and ran across the driver’s side to embrace me. I was right. I knew this woman; She was Remi, my high school crush whom I refused to date back then because we happened to be in the same class from JSS 1 to SSS 3. “Oh my days, this isn’t a coincidence” she muttered, as she squeezed the life out of me. After we exchanged pleasantries I insisted I’d take her home. From that point on, we went down memory lane. Nothing was left out as we quipped, laughed and reminded ourselves of our juvenile years.



After several hours, I declared I was leaving for the umpteenth time. This was deliberate, but she ignored my announcement accordingly. It was just the perfect sign I was hoping for. The chemistry never left us. Her company was priceless. While flipping through photo albums and sipping petillant french wine, suddenly the laughing ceased and all we could do was stare at each other. As King David, I didn’t require a divine sign to take the initiative to rub her lips against mine. The foreplay was a marathon yet so thrilling till we finally reached the final destination; the king sized bed obviously. Both parties must have bagged a series of multiple orgasms during the coital sessions. That night/morning was electric!



We didn’t look back after that night. We fell in love. We couldn’t manage a couple of hours without speaking to each other slash when we were both asleep. We also made it a point of duty to see each other at least every other day. All of a sudden, the traffic on the island meant nothing to me. Weekends were a must. It was either we passed the night at my place or at her place. I had never been so happy in a relationship before. She made me smile to myself at work. Waking up being a moody cow was now in the days of yore. She brought out the soft side of me. My joy knew no bounds. She was the girlfriend I had been waiting for all my life. My disgust for public display of affection didn’t apply to her. I was happy to embrace her in the public eye whether it was her smooching or she clinging so tightly to my arm like my arm was her Brolin handbag. I didn’t care so long as it made her happy. Christmas and the New Year celebrations came and it was the best I ever had as far as I can remember. We exchanged gifts, caught a late night movie and had yet another electric night/morning in as many days. This must be El Dorado I tell you.



After high school, she had relocated to the states to join her family. That was how we lost contact because back then even landlines were a luxury. She concluded her education to the MBA level and took up a employment with a major financial management consortium. After acquiring enough experience she decided she would come back home and establish something for herself. This was her account of the story and that was how I managed to stumble across my first crush after so many years. Like Kanu Nwankwo, I was “detameaned” to make this count for good. And that is how we got here.



One day, it must have been mid-way into January 2012, when we were at a restaurant having dinner. Her phone rang, and from the look of things, I could tell she was reluctant to pick it. She finally did and some of the words in the conversation I remember vividly. “Really, but I thought you said by Christmas? Why the sudden change of heart?” After she hung up, I asked who that was; her response was so calm and collected it left no room for suspicion. Driving her back home, she was uncharacteristically quiet and looked worried. She had assured me everything was fine earlier so I didn’t lose sleep over that.



After that phone call, some things changed that I should have noticed, but once a playboy falls in love, all logic I tell you flies out of the window. Ask any one you know, they’d probably tell you the same under oath. She declined any request involving me coming over to her residence insisting she would come over instead, and more often than not, while we were talking on the phone, she’ll place me on hold. The countless hasty trips to MM Airport didn’t make me ask questions either. I guess I had become the full blown MAGA under “kontrol” being used like a SURE Roll-on deodorant.



Suddenly she barely had time to visit, and politely asked me not to come over because she had extended family at her place. She still managed to call albeit a few times with so much noise emanating from kids at the background. Still, I never asked questions. Then came the second week in February where she stopped calling and more worryingly stopped picking. I’m sure I must have run down her phone battery twice a day, because I kept calling. Thoughts running through my mind varied from kidnapping to breakup. I wasn’t built for this emotional rollercoaster. That’s why I’ve been single for over three years tearing hearts into shreds.




It’s been over a week and I haven’t heard from Remi. I had planned to buy her an ipad2 for Valentine ’s Day which was tomorrow but that is the least of my priorities as I can’t think straight right now. I couldn’t get anything done no matter how hard I tried. I wasn’t only trying her number; I also tried Remi’s only friend I could link her with. After such display of hopelessly being in love with her friend, she hands me Remi’s new number only on one condition, that she’d be anonymous. Although, she warned I should brace myself for events about to unravel, I didn’t care. I wanted my baby back. I called the number immediately. While it rang, I could feel my heart beating twice as fast. Then I heard her charming voice, “hello?” I felt a sigh of relief. The moment she heard mine however, she hung up! That moment I realized something was wrong. I grabbed my car keys and leaped down the stairs. I had to investigate what was going on.



Rasheed wasn’t the security guard anymore when I got to Remi’s place. Moreover, I think I heard him say, “oga and madam don comot”. This new aboki dude must have had one too many “3,3,” lager beer in his system I thought. I decided to wait in the car till she finally arrived hours after in a black Infinti jeep, which I saw regularly in her compound. There I saw a man hooting the horn for the guard to open the gate. Then I saw my beloved Remi seated beside him with a boy on her laps and another in the backseat. The driver of the jeep appeared oblivious of my presence, but my eyes and Remi’s met. She couldn’t look me in the eye for another second as the man drove in and the guard shut the gate behind them.



I was distraught. I tried all her numbers a minute after but they were all switched off. A part of me was still in denial and the other snapped back into reality. I drove off. Now my heart-beat was sounding like Sasquatch’s feet thundering shaking the asphalt my car was threading on. I was driving aimlessly and very fast too. Despite the A/C at the lowest temperature, I was sweating profusely and my hands shaking like I had Parkinsons disease. Then a message came in. I first hesitated, but my intuition told me it was Remi, so I checked it. It read, “baby, I’m so sorry to do this to you. I was going to tell you that I’m unhappily married with two kids but I just couldn’t find a way to say it because I’ve grown to love you so much and didn’t want to lose you, I hope you find a place in your heart to forgive me”. By the time I looked up, it was too late. That was all I could remember. It was the eve of Valentine’s Day.

THE "GOSPEL" ECONOMICS

If today Nigeria ends up in a total state of anarchy, whether you are rich or poor, Christian or Muslim, south-south or south-west, however way you look at it, you shall be affected. I hear a few people say that some have amassed such wealth that once Nigeria becomes unbearable, they can elope to any “western country” and enjoy their ill-gotten wealth in peace. Think about it? Here in Nigeria, a public office holder can loot his state or country’s treasury dry with such impunity while also having the effrontery to harass his fellow citizens on the highway with his bloated convoy filled with overzealous police officers ready to maim of course, not to mention the excruciating  noise emanating from their siren. He cannot replicate such in that “western country”.

The same goes for a preacher. In this part of the world, they are invincibles. You criticize them at your own peril. You will be shocked how supposedly cogent individual will spring up to their pastor/ daddy’s defense. In that “western world”, nobody’s daddy whether spiritual or biological will wake up one morning and slap anyone even if the devil came down in human form to confront his eminence because he will be sued for physically assaulting a defenseless devil and possibly remanded in custody.

In that same “western world”, no cabal, politician or technocrat will bully the press when asked simple questions or call its electorate unsavory names or better yet make preposterous statements like suggesting your citizens should live with suicide bomb attacks till it fizzles out! In that “western world”, your resignation will be demanded for by everyone, including members of your own party for imprudent utterances.

Let’s not digress any further. The theme of this article is the “gospel economics”. A theory that quite remarkably ignores the metaphysical but dwells on fiction as it insists that no matter how the state of things deteriorate, “children of god” will never be affected, hence the world can protest on the street till thy kingdom come for all they care, they can’t be bothered.  During the one week long peaceful protests organized by SNG and other civil rights societies, I noticed the tranquil state of mind by quite a number of my friends I consider very religious. Religious in the sense that all they tweet is about pastor /daddy, what pastor/daddy said, and numerous quotes from the scriptures.

Let me state categorically, that I believe everyone is free to make a choice either to join a positive cause, to stay neutral or even support an insensitive government policy. It isn’t mandatory or even possible for everyone to have taken part in the protest or demand for good governance. Let me also state that I’m a believer in the word of GOD and I frequently pick up the holy book for reference and guidance. After all, 2 Timothy 3:16 states that,” all scripture is given by inspiration of GOD, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness”. However, I also  believe that same GOD gave us the ability to think and analyze our surroundings and ask questions instead of locking up our GOD given thinking faculty and blindly “follow follow” like in the words of Fela’s song”mr follow follow”  recorded decades ago.

Anyway, some of the “children of god” played no part in protesting whether as an indoor event (via social media) or outdoor (coming out to protest). They didn’t even pretend to be part of us at any point which I really admired and respected. But what baffles me till this day, is the fact that they think they are untouchable even by the turn of events in our country. The display message of one of “the children of god” during the protest and till this day reads “a thousand shall fall at your right side, and ten thousand at your right hand, but it shall not come near you” from  Psalm 91;7. Rumor even has it that some of them were instructed from above not to participate in our demand for our fundamental human rights, and if seen doing otherwise, punitive action will be meted out to such erring individuals.

A survey from the Letagum prosperity Index, ranked Nigeria among the bottom 15 poorest nations of the world. The gap between the poor and the rich is at its highest peak in our history. How is it that a country which is the 7^th largest producer of oil in the world will still have majority of its citizens living below $2 per day? And how is it, that that same country pays its politicians salaries and allowances that dwarf Obama’s emoluments for his entire term in office! I bet Obama if greedy, would have switched nationalities by now.

Each time I pick up the dailies, join social media, or listen to the news, I always have a cause for concern. It’s either the obvious that what we currently have is the obliviously inept government who luckily found its way into the corridors of power, or innocent lives lost through the senseless tirade of bomb attacks on defenseless citizens and even  officers of the armed forces under the guise of war against western civilization. The recent seizure in Ghana of a vessel loaded with fire arms heading towards Nigeria or the arraignment of a British based artillery supplier, Gary Hyde in the UK for reportedly shipping 80,000 rifles and pistols, and 32 million rounds of ammunition to Nigeria is depressing. This shipment included 40,000 AK47 assault rifles, 30,000 rifles and 10,000 9mm pistols. I cringed when I read this yesterday.

Then I recalled when Ganiyu Adams, a leader of a faction of the Odu’a People’s Congress, a secessionist and nationalist organization in the South-West of Nigeria was questioned about the possible invasion of the much  dreaded boko haram sect into Lagos and other parts of the region. His response was quite bullish. He made it clear that they had enough weapons in their arsenal to curtail any infiltration by the terrorist group should boko haram even think of venturing into their shores. I began to think of how fire arms must be widespread amongst us that we are clearly unmindful of. This could mean in a traffic jam, a man selling fan yogourt ice-cream could have a pistol stashed somewhere around his icemaker, or the gala hawker could have a rifle stored somewhere for use when the need arises.

I have got a problem with the gospel economics and its students “the children of god”. The vibe I was getting during the protest, was the fact that if pump price can rise to N200 per litre, I can still afford it, and so can my family, church members and colleagues, just make the damn commodity available, nothing else matters. When you are all tired of constituting a nuisance on the streets, you will all go back home, and let us, who have better things to do like make some more money get on with our lives.

 Is this really what the scripture is all about? That we should stay clear of murky waters such as disassociating ourselves from peaceful protesters of the “world” fighting for a better future for us all, fighting for the less privileged who cannot possibly afford those basic things we take for granted, and also for accountability in government?  I wonder whether the excessive love for money, those bullet proof luxury cars, private jets and exorbitant private universities are heavenly and not worldly things. 

In the book of Mark 12:30-31, a lawyer walked up to Jesus and asked for what he considered the first commandment. Jesus replied and said “love the Lord your GOD with all your heart and soul, with all your mind and strength”. Jesus then added a second saying “you shall love your neighbor as thyself. There is NO OTHER COMMANDEMENT GREATER THAN THESE”. Remember the parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10: 30-37? In that story, Jesus explained who truly our neighbor is. In that story, a man was robbed, stripped off his clothing and left for dead. A priest first came along, saw him, crossed to the other side like he didn’t see a thing. Then came the Levite, who did the same thing.  It wasn’t until when a certain Samaritan came by that the man robbed was catered for. Jesus then asked the lawyer in verse 38, “so which of these three do you think was neighbor to him who fell among thieves? Go and do likewise” Jesus said to him.

Jesus, a meek and humble man should be our role model and not any man if we are to go by Christianity. He paid no attention to acquiring material things but encouraged agape love for one another including our neighbor. A neighbor meaning members of other faiths, the downtrodden, the less privileged, and the poor to mention but a few. Remember the priest and the Levite (who the “children of god” in Nigeria today will view as religious and will follow blindly), left their neighbor for dead. It was the Samaritan who was viewed as not righteous at all that came to his neighbor’s aid.

Our neighbor today include those in abject poverty who can’t afford to eat 3 square meals daily, who if corruption is curbed to the barest minimum will have their minimum wage increased from the laughable and embarrassingly low N18, 000 per month to be at par with other OPEC member countries, who if basic amenities  and infrastructures are made available and put in place will have their life and expectancy rate improved.

With the proliferation of firearms across our country, a possible gun duel with ethnic fractions and religious dogmatist, incessant bombings killing innocent people, widening of the income gap between the rich and the poor, endemic corruption, my brothers and sisters in the lord, your gospel economics will not work. Your movement will be curtailed. Even the church where you go and listen to your daddy or show off your latest aesthetics might just be turned into rumbles. Daddy might have flown out of the country with his jets to avoid the state of anarchy slapping anyone in his way including his pilots in successfully eloping out of the jungle in which even a lion cannot survive. Daniel, Mershach, shaddrach and Abednego, young jews of royal birth were taken as slaves from the kingdom of Judah to serve king Nebuchadnezzar II of Babylon because of a corrupt and evil government in charge when they were still very young. Their parents probably took part in the evil regime, or also believed in the “gospel economics” that as the lord’s chosen one and that no matter the state of the jungle, they will always go unscathed. We all know they were GOD’s chosen but taken captive to serve as slaves in a foreign land.

Love your neighbor as thyself is what Jesus instructed us, not only church members, family, boy/girlfriends, business partners, work colleagues. Do whatever it takes to ensure Nigeria doesn’t degenerate to the level of Somalia where alaye boys will mount road blocks every two meters on Ikorodu road, extorting all sundry. If it is by prayer, please pray fervently for peace of GOD to reign in this nation. If it is to challenge those at the helm of affairs in this nation to wake up and switch from auto-pilot to responsive and accountable government, then so be it. Remember the louder we make our voices heard in unison, the more effective our impact. Do everything but adopt the nonchalant approach.

My heart goes out to the families of our brothers and sisters who have lost their lives through the series of mindless and cruel bomb blasts in Kano state and all other states affected across Nigeria. May GOD give strength to the bereaved to bear their loss and may the soul of the slain rest in peace. Amen.

GOD bless Nigeria.

JOSEPH THE DREAMER

My new found friend Joseph has got dreams. Yes, realistic ones just like everyone else. However, his hopes are gradually fading away. He sees his country as a lost cause. His tale was all too similar to what I’ve heard a bit too often these days. As a Nigerian, he feels the two things he benefits from the government was the ostensibly “fuel subsidy” before its removal and the air he breaths albeit full of emissions.

I accompanied a friend to a major electronics distributor outlet earlier today to feed my eyes on the new arrivals. I was thrilled by their offerings and more importantly the captivating prices, I decided to get a product myself. The problem was then, the transportation of my newly acquired asset from the point of sale to my humble abode.

That’s where I experienced another slap of the impact of fuel subsidy removal. It’s bad enough a major electronics outlet hasn’t put in place a comprehensive delivery system for customers who have purchased products. Few years ago, I would have found it beyond belief but that would be unfair on some foreigners who have come to invest heavily in my country where they are their own NEPA (Electricity supplier) and water supplier. They also employ my fellow compatriots in the process slash the millions of other youths still unemployed out there. A sales staff eventually introduced me to someone just outside the store who could help with the transportation.

Joseph answered “oga, na  sis tausan, fife hundred!” (boss, it’ll cost you 6 thousand, 5 hundred naira). “say wetin! From Allen to Ojota? You be Ali baba I tink? Abeg talk beta jare” (what? That short distance? You’re joking right?). He blamed the removal of subsidy for charging me that high, but I told him not to worry, that I have my own car and I just bought N4,000 worth of petrol in NNPC at the rate of N138 per litre which hardly had any impact on my fuel gauge; my firsthand slap from the new year’s gift from Uncle Jonah. I told Joseph that unless his car was a stretch bugatti, he would certainly not need that sum of money he requested earlier. Besides, he must be a dreaming Joseph to think I'll part with that kind of money.

As Joseph drove me through Allen and Opebi in his rickety car, he told me the tale of his “hard knock” life so far. His parent s couldn’t afford to further his education, so he dropped out of school to source for income and a better livelihood. So Joseph left his village to Lagos for greener pastures. Quite remarkably, he wasn’t bitter as I thought a man that found himself in such predicament would be. He was quite jovial and a lot smarter than some ministers and public office holders I have seen appear on TV defending an ill-timed policy at the detriment of the livelihood of majority of the Nigerian populace, where majority  live under  2$ per day.

Over the years, he had taken up menial jobs, learned and acquired skills in diverse disciplines to make ends meet. From being recruited as a bus conductor, to being a cab driver and then an electrician, Joseph has been around many places and seen many faces. He was an employee at the major electronics outlet I just bought my newly acquired asset, but quit a couple of years ago because his meager salary couldn’t meet up with his needs. He still had to send some money back home, pay his monthly” face me I face you” one room apartment rent amongst other things. Presently, he is joggling two jobs as a transporter of electronics and also an engineer who installs the aforesaid.

As we continued chatting, he agreed that our economy was the ailing one which required quick attention and long lasting solution. He opined that to achieve this, it required a collective effort from all Nigerians, including Muslim, Christian, pagan, atheist, rich, poor, civilian, military, married, single, public officers, private individuals. But that isn’t the case. He wondered why Uncle Jonah played the entire Nigerian people “wayo” by removing oil subsidy on the 1^st of January instead of the proposed 1^st of April. I tried to make excuse for uncle jonah that 1^st of April is commonly referred to as “fools day” so his government decided not  to insult over 160 million us, thus opted for an earlier date.

He wasn’t buying my sophistry to say the least. He told me we all have to make sacrifices by the grim pictures public officers have been painting on TV recently in the name of “or-yell-sub-see-dee” removal.  This he insisted, include for example, eliminating the scam in the form of the monthly security votes accruing to state governors between N200m to N300m (comrade Oshimiole failed to mention this at the town hall meeting), a substantial cut in the salaries and allowances of public officers such as Legislators take home at $2m, a rethink of the cost of feeding uncle Jonah, aunty patience and brother Sambo’s household close to a staggering N1 billion and the total cost of governance in general. Then, and only then, did Joseph think this government should talk about removing fuel subsidy.

I was set aback! Joseph isn’t educated to the tertiary level, but he sounds smarter and more credible than some PHD holders wearing black hats or the ones I’ve been seeing lately on TV trying to sell nursery rhyme texts to adults! The current system must have impoverished Joseph to the point where his thinking faculty has sprung into action. All he wanted was to relocate to the city, learn his trade in electrical engineering, and one day manage a large store providing electrical solutions to individuals, Companies and government establishments.

The future is not looking bright for my brother Joseph and indeed other Nigerians in their millions. Joseph’s dream in the bible always came into fruition, but under this insensitive government of uncle Jonah, Joseph my brother not in the bible but here in Nigeria, will watch his dream disappear into thin air. If the status quo remains the same where corruption and “lootocracy” is deeply entrenched in the system, so many dreams will be turned to mirages and hopes dashed.  Joseph knows that the consumption of cassava bread will not amount to close to a billion naira, and he also knows that his future will be torn into shreds if austerity measures are not adopted across all levels of government.

But here is a chance to reclaim your country back from a grossly irresponsible and insensitive bunch. Engage yourselves in the peaceful protest presently going on nationwide. We all have a role to play particularly the youths. Let us discontinue from the frivolous activities we usually engage in, like making famous people’s business our own business, reading society related magazines uninterrupted for hours, making a joke of oil subsidy in the social media or begging don jazzy for a retweet and join in to #OCCUPYNIGERIA.

Remember all we ask for is a competent government willing to tackle our biggest problem in corruption head on regardless of who the cabal are, and take the appropraite austerity measures this economy requires. We pray our government will listen to the yearnings of its people, and avoid a looming anarchy sparked by a revolution. Our fight will not be in vain.

GOD bless.

THE CONTEMPORARY POLITICIAN

Marketing is often misconstrued in this part of the word as an activity associated with harassing people by shoving products and services down the throat of the intended target market. Whether it is beneficial or essential to the end user is absolutely none of the “marketers” business, the bottom-line which is to sell is all that matters. For example, our hustlers go to “Jand” or Dubai at calculated periods to take advantage of reduction in prices of goods. They return few days or weeks later with a fake accent like “johnny” in Fela’s track “JJD” and storm into any indiscipline office idle enough to entertain them during work hours. There, they showcase their loot and cajole their victims (many who have got something quite identical to what is on display), who have got no self control to pick their choice like it was a gift from the Salvation Army. Even where some earn pittance of a salary, the marketers gag them to the point where they pick up wares like they were forced at gun point. This isn’t marketing, it is called personal selling, a component of marketing.

The Chartered Institute of Marketing although not exhaustive, defines Marketing as “The management process responsible for identifying, anticipating and satisfying customer requirements profitably.” So the harassment scenario is one in many tools of marketing.

This is applicable to the astute politician we find in our political arena today. They have thoroughly done their groundwork, identified the flaws in the system and society, anticipated possible reactions and devised clandestine but devious strategies to satisfy their ingenuous target audience albeit temporarily but more importantly, achieve  profitable gains for themselves and their cronies.

I see the manifestation of this new breed of politician as a brand, a brand like Coca-cola. Like a brand competing with other brands in the market, they have formulated a strategy, a strategy they have mastered, and have applied to grow their tentacles and expand their presence in the political scene. For those of you familiar with marketing terminologies, one such business model organizations apply to develop, grow and expand its presence is the Ansoff matrix. This model entails implementing four marketing strategies at the operational level namely Market Penetration, Product Development, Market Development and Diversification. All strategies will be discussed in greater detail. 

The contemporary politician is the product in question, and the market the electorate and all other mechanism deployed in firmly entrenching their position and clout. The shrewd contemporary politician has studied their environment scrupulously and is well aware of all the societal ills, including morale decadence, the majority of the masses living in abject poverty, the stoical nature of the citizenry despite despicable acts making a mockery of democracy, endemic nepotism and tribalism, religious strife etc. They have taken into cognizance the fact that all these issues circumlocutory play to their own advantage. Here is how they go about executing the four strategies to achieve their sole objective of clinging on to power or being politically relevant as long as they are breathing.

Through Market Penetration, they sell their brand to the existing market. This is the most routine of the strategies particularly if the community is considered a home turf. This market include the party “faithfuls”, those that bankroll the political movement, and those that will do anything to maintain the status quo since they will benefit from their man’s tenure, even if that requires maiming those who dare attempt to confront the status quo. They also organize rallies during campaigns, need I mention that all personnel involved are on the daily payroll of their “highness”.

As Fela sang decades ago in the track sorrow, tears and blood …… “we always get reason to fear…….I no wan die, I wan enjoy, papa dey for house, mama dey for house, I wan build house, I wan enjoy, i no wan go”. It’s the truth; we are unsurprisingly timid and highly tolerant. All it takes is to recruit the ever reliable linchpin, even officials that should be enforcing the law, who then hires miscreants (awon omo igboba executing ise ijoba) to snatch ballot boxes when things aren’t exactly going according to plan, smash a gulder bottle or two or leave another scoundrel from the opposition party limbless during a skirmish at the polling booth; basically anything to create a scene to intimidate anyone with ulterior motive other than theirs. By the way, majority of the miscreants used after the brand becomes the market leader, live in penury until the next general elections.

Through Product Development, they try to gain market share to firmly establish their clout and see off the competition. As they currently hold power, things won’t exactly be rosy for those in opposition. You recall I made mention of excessive greed as one of the societal ills which plays a huge role here. They (some opposition members) need a share of the spoils plundered by the ruling incumbent which can still be evenly distributed. They can’t afford to be “dulling” like whiz kid rightly advised, so they become disillusioned and disgruntled with their own brand. So they brazenly jump ship and join the “winning/ruling team”. The new recruits now become products utilized to further fortify the dominance of the brand of that contemporary politician.

After attaining much success for the brand on home soil, it’s only right they try to extend the brand’s footprint in other markets. This should serve as an avenue for more loot to plunder, and the merrier for the brand and its products. That is where the Market Development strategy comes into play. After a research has been conducted, it equips with a better understanding of the market segments and who can possibly buy the product and indirectly the brand itself. The ploy here is to affiliate with a local product that seemingly champions the cause of the community at large, when in truth every promise made is just sugar coated fibs. Remember, I said we are a gullible bunch, and what we want to eat will shut all forms of logical thinking capacity. As it is usually done, empty promises and commitments to white elephant projects dominate the product’s attributes, and after a few years, the market realize it was all a farce but a little too late. Besides, what more can the market do as alternatives available to the market aren’t any better.

When the brand now becomes too powerful such that all other competing brands are subject to its whims and caprices, it becomes a god. It is worshipped, sycophants soar in their numbers. The brand becomes a monopoly dictating every move in the market. Here, the market desires become irrelevant. The least of the brand’s problems is the yearnings of the market it brainwashed to acquire its dominance. But some elements still exist that can be a pain in the brand’s behind. So it adopts the Diversification strategy, a diversion from the core activities of the brand to something entirely new. This entails investing heavily on machinery that can divert all negative reports directed at the brand such as establishing media houses like private television and radio stations, or simply investing in vibrant sectors that can guarantee unprecedented funds other than funds acquired from activities of the brand and its products. But the brand’s core activities remain the cash cow used to inject the much needed funds to manage the new businesses till they attain the growth and maturity stage.

Slowly, the contemporary politician has dug deep into our political system and it will take a momentous and resolute effort to recover as their influence is widespread and given the nod by majority of the populace. And even while some are clearly against all that the brand stands for, they can’t say much. This is probably because they have at some point, soiled their hands in retrospect. The contemporary politician has used the societal ills to his own advantage. And every time potent allegations spring up against this brand, the manner with which such is swept under the carpet is jaw dropping. Like in the words of the Legendary Fela, “I see am, I shock, ah! Just like that, I see am, I react, ah!” just like that”.

What does the future hold for us? The brand didn’t get there itself. It used products, and the inertia of opposing brands to hoodwink the market to get to where it is today. If only my people will look beyond kickbacks, contractual agreement, the Ghana must go’s, and review this country’s position after 51 years of independence; they should realize the bigger picture and resist this brand. This brand is a threat to our existence in the long run. Desist from wasting your precious time and prayers because heaven they say helps those that help themselves. I pray we start to help ourselves.

Ositelu Eniola

@doublegeneral

Stalemate

Phones rings!!!!


Me: Yes! Who’s this?

Wale Gates: Why are you doing this?

Me: Doing what?

WG: I’ve been pressing the door bell for so long; my index finger’s now numb.

Me: And?

WG: Please open the door, it’s really cold out here and you know my wife just kicked me out.

Me: That’s news to me, but a very welcome arrangement

WG: How do you mean?

Me: One stupid woman just became wiser

WG: Very funny, but why are you talking like this anyway? Have you been waiting for this all the time?

Me: How?

WG: Please just open the door jo; I’m sure you can tell from my voice the horrendous weather is taking its toll on me

Me: The pints of liquor consumed earlier you mean?

WG: (interrupting) won’t you open the door?

Me: Nop!

WG: Why are you so heartless?

Me: Thanks for stating the obvious. Tell me something I don’ know

WG: OK, I’m sorry, I repudiate the earlier statement.

Me: Thanks for the vote of confidence, might work some other time.

WG: But what's your problem?

Me: Problem? From what I've gathered you've just been kicked out by your spouse, you're drunk to stupor and stranded in the mean, cold streets of London. Now that, my friend is a big big problem!

WG: You mean you will leave your brother to loaf around the streets of London?

Me: Even if my father was a promiscuous man and a stark illiterate, he’d still count his sons accurately and you, my good friend will still not make the cut!

WG: Preposterous! I can’t believe this men.

Me: Believe what?

WG: That you actually plan to keep me out in the cold

Me: What a wife can do, a relative can do better I guess!

WG: Hen?

Me: The liquor’s now affecting your hearing?

WG: OK, take my phone and charge it for me at least, the battery is getting flat.

Me: Ask a passer-by, there’s a better chance they might help you during your self inflicted predicament. Trust me.

WG: This is not fair!

Me: Then what is? Interrupting my sleep in the middle of the night?

WG: Hah! Please, don’t do this

ME: My girlfriend is on the other line, talk to you some other time.

WG: Wait! Wait!! Wait!!! You mean you intend to hang up?

Me: Yes ke!

WG: Fu@# you! Go to hell! Thank God you’re not god! Ori e o pe! (Click!)…..Hello? Hello? Hello? This guy really hung up sha? Let me try again....... (Sorry, the person you‘re trying to reach is not currently able to accept your call). This guy is cold men, I had better find a place in the tube station to squat and pass for the night before some destitute grabs the best spot