‘THAT’ SLEEP

The biggest risk we all take in life and destiny is sleep. I was going through my journal yesterday and I saw one of my writings while my stay in Taraba state of Nigeria lasted. This writing was originally done June 2^nd 2009. I hope you find it interesting reading:

As I sit on my students’ bench and table in Kwambai, the sleepy village in Taraba state where I presently serve my country, Nigeria, I’m kind of remembering the photo finish that my day was yesterday. Filled with lots of activities and strenuous exercises.

The way I drifted off to sleep and landed in dreamland yesterday was shocking. Is that how we sleep not to wake up again? Na real wa O!

So all the ambitious rants and plans just end up like that. I mean it could even have finished before starting. Yes it can, at least you sleep. What happens if one day I sleep and wake up in the other world, a world farther than dreamland?

I’ve never visited there though but I know that other world is not a world of dreams, not a world of ambitions, not that world of rat race where we the hustle and bustle ends nowhere.

Do you want to know the truth? Yesterday night made me think of my life in that other world where the only thing you will not do is WORRY. That world where you don’t have to bother about paying bills – electricity, water, children’s fees, cable TV bills and even ashewo and gigolo bills.

That world where the school you attended and the level of your education does not matter. The world in which you do not need a wife to make you happy; where you do not need a girlfriend not to talk of her getting angry because you have not called her today. A world different from this in all areas and ramifications.

Truth be told, I got scared when I woke up this morning feeling so scared. What if I drifted into that eternal sleep, what would have happened? Okay, people would’ve cried abi? Is it all of them that will cry because they feel good about me? NOPE!

Many of the tears (if I get any) would be for people’s selfish end. That guy who thought we could have done something together and has now seen the hope of that faded. That beauty that has been swaying her generously loaded bust and hips to attract me would cry because she finally would not have that chance. Those folks whose moods improve when they see me would also spare me a sob or two although it will not be because they love me, it’ll be because of what they’ll miss in me.

The good thing however is that no one, I mean nobody is irreplaceable in life. Some folks would be like “you see, see where he has ended it after all the posings and formings”. “I think we told him to relax a bit and live less on the fast lane”. Some would even be indifferent, “too bad he’s dead”, they’ll say.

But wait a minute, can you try write your OBITUARY yourself? Be honest with yourself, you know where you have been good and otherwise. Your obituary is not that glossy poster they put in front of your house and office when you die, it is not what people write in the condolence register (na lie full that register). Your obituary, my obituary, our obituary does not even have to relate to what happened in the mortuary, it is what people say of the kind of life you lived – “that boy was just wonderful, why did I not allow him to get a feel of me?”, young Eves would say. A lot of other people would say other stuff like “Did he forget that the end would come one day?”

Try evaluate yourself in a very honest way. As for me, I know how mine would read; I know the BUTS and FLAWS; I know the positive side of it. What I want to do is change my buts to a more positive side so that when I sleep and wake in another world one day, I’ll look at you and you and hear you speak well of me because life after death is not the number of houses you built while you bestrode the land; not the number of girls you had; not the number of guys that chased after you; it is not the number of folks that cry before you are planted; it is even not how attractive, unique and beautiful your glass casket looks. It is what folks say after you are gone.

What will be said of you? You’re asking me? I’ll still be around for some more time but I’ll make sure people say good and remember me for good me when I just go and long after I am gone.

RETROGRESSIVE NIGERIA

 For close to the three decades that I have lived on this planet earth, I have read so many things about my beloved country (Nigeria), I have equally studied about other neighboring African countries. However, if I am asked the question which country in Africa is progressing? I will not hesitate to say Nigeria is far from progress. There has been a progressive decline in all spheres of life;  steady deceleration down the hill since God knows when.

In the 1960s, Nigeria used to be the world’s largest producer of groundnuts (averaging 712,600 tonnes a year); the second largest producer of cocoa (203,600 tonnes) after Ghana; the fourth largest producer of tin (13,264 tonnes) and the largest producer of columbite. Oil palm grew wild in plantations in the south, supplied half the world’s export of palm kernel (407,200 tonnes) and 70% of the world’s export of palm oil (152,700 tonnes).

Nigeria’s forest was some 310,800sqkm and produced timber for export as logs, sawn timber and plywood sheet were effortlessly produced and exported.

Rubber was grown by peasant farmers and increasingly in plantations and was particularly processed in the local factories. The ancient livestock industries of the north used to provide the neighboring countries with about 3,000,000 animals, mostly cattle, slaughtered annually. As a by-product of the livestock industries, there was an old valuable trade in hide and skin. As a matter of fact there was a particular type of skin that was incorrectly called ‘Moroccan leather’, which comes from Nigeria.

Hmmm, I don’t need to spend much time on the present because it will be a waste of precious time but for the sake of emphasis, let me point out a few points. Despite the fact that oil palm originated from West Africa (possibly Nigeria), Malaysia is today the largest producer of oil palm. Unconfirmed historical account has it that Malaysia picked their first palm kernel seed from Nigeria. As of today, Malaysia and Indonesia jointly produce about 80% of the world’s oil palm.

In 2009, Ivory Coast led the chart of the world’s producers of cocoa, supplying about 30% of the cocoa produced in the world. Cocoa is now the economic engine of Ivory Coast with a share of 40% of the world production.

As at 2010, China was known to be the leading world producer of cotton, wheat, gold, rice, tobacco, aluminium, steel and cement. India has taken over the market of groundnut as they have been the largest producer for years now. India is also taking the lead in cattle and milk production.

I have tried to console myself that we at least have crude oil, but when last I checked the rating, Nigeria was 15^th on the list of crude oil producers in the world. I hope I won’t be wrong if I run a conclusion that Nigeria past leaders till date all of them put together are nothing but wasters, looters and planless leaders.

It has got no better with the present crop which leads or rules us, as the case may be. Under their watch, the debt profile of the country has again risen to a whooping 1.2 TRILLION NAIRA in just ONE YEAR!!!.

It has therefore become pertinent to re-evaluate and ask ourselves what the fate of generations yet unborn is. While I grew up, things rapidly went from bad to worse and we presently are on the way to experiencing the worst. How can we get out of this quagmire? I have asked and found very little answers.

The easiest way to get out of this mess and re-trace our step back to the path of greatness is to ensure that people with the power of love and not love for power are voted into elective positions in the three tiers of government.

Thinkers and not dullards. Clueless leaders that cannot differentiate their right hand from the left should be flushed out of our government and replaced with intelligent and selfless leaders, those that can stand head to head and shoulder to shoulder against corruption and corrupt practices. A set of breed without greed.

Long live the Federal Republic of Nigeria!!!

Agunbiade Olusegun Caleb

I have not reached my destination but truth is I am not where I used to be and I am proud to be a student of the department of continuous learning, faculty of never ending improvement, great citadel of success

Facebook Comrade Agunbiade Olusegun Caleb

Twitter @dunamiscrown

TARABA MEMORIES: LESSONS THAT SHAPED ME FROM A YEAR IN THE VILLAGE

Today makes it exactly three years that I finished a stage of my life, that stage in which I learnt a lot of lessons that prepared me for the phase in which I presently am. I was so cocksure my posting would land me in the oil rich Rivers state. I had my industrial training at the Federal Livestock Department and my boss had assured me that she would gladly welcome me for my one year national service. My Dad was very open to that Rivers state idea and set machinery in motion.

I had forgotten that some states existed in the entity that my beloved Nigeria is. I did not even think I will find myself in any other place apart from the south. Lo and behold, my posting came in August of 2008 and I heard Taraba. “Tara-what”, I screamed to my friend who broke the ‘sad’ news to me on phone. “You possibly did not see it well jare. It would be Rivers or Plateau”, I boasted banking on my ‘sure runs’. Truth be told however, I spared the news some thought. “What if it is actually Taraba?”

My eventful Taraba life started with a mixed three weeks in the school which served as our camp. I had by then come to settle for just one thing – “make it as much fun as you can”. I started by meeting different people; some great company, some others sucked real bad. The first of the lessons in camp was to add to what I already knew about level-headedness and being good natured as much as possible. It got me many friends, even against my wish as I had wanted to be with me, alone with myself.

I had wanted a place directly related to my animal science field or a tertiary institution but I was handed my posting letter to Sikas Model Academy, Takum, a five hour bumpy ride from Jalingo. Little did I know that my own Takum was in the interior. A village called Kwambai which back in those days had one high school, one primary school, two nursery and primary schools, one church, no electricity, one borehole, and no telephone mast. We however received from town, the remnants of the trio of Globacom, MTN and the then Celtel which when combined was not equal to one.

I was posted to teach in one of the two nursery and primary schools in Kwambai. I remember on sighting the school, I sighed and told myself very audibly “tani mo se?” easily translated as “who have I offended?” What I saw were round mud huts which I later knew were called “Channel O”. “Me go fit live for this place so?”, I asked myself repeatedly. It was a village setting through and through, one I had never really experienced. I had the chance to relocate but I decided against the option, choosing to stay.

Deciding to stay was however a very hard one. What would I be doing in this village when I had my FLD job waiting in the Garden City? While reflecting whether to stay or relocate, I remembered meeting someone just after I collected my call-up letter. I was complaining bitterly to a friend in a commercial bus when this woman joined our conversation. She was calming me down with all sorts of soothing words, asking if it was Jalingo or Takum. Lo and behold, I was posted to Takum. Remembering the short episode with her, I did not see it as coincidental. I just told God to let me fulfill the reason He sent me there.

That formed the first lesson I learnt. We might choose to run from some things but once the Almighty chooses us for something, it is better to look out for the signs and flow with his plans for our lives. Who says there is not a special reason for him sending you there. I remember telling myself that if I would gladly leave civilization for one year if I was told to do so to avoid death.

I learnt to be thankful to God for making me come from a part where schooling was considered a right, not a privilege. It was time to be humble. Much as they asked me supposed ‘foolish questions’, I maintained my calm and told myself I was just lucky to know what they did not. With time, we forged a relationship. I was making some people happy, it gave me great joy. I brought myself down low, tried to be humble and level-headed as much as possible.

Pupils came to school with tattered uniforms, no pencils or one 2A exercise book for all subjects sometimes. I talked one-on-one with some parents and they yielded. I was starting to find joy in teaching the innocent little ones. Right in Kwambai, I met students who would have rivaled our own brilliant students but for their environment.  Took them under my wings and they improved very well. I saw myself as just lucky, not better than them. A few more lessons in humility and thankfulness.

A lot of funny things happened in my life while there. It was in Kwambai that I learnt the value of having company around me. I was so bored I picked up a novel of close to 500 pages and finished it in less than 48 hours. I read a lot of stories, wrote a lot of poetry but it did not help my loneliness. I then turned to the Bible and discovered quite some hidden stuff. I understood hidden treasures and the value of being able to enjoy my ‘alone time’, one I so much long for but is not readily available again.

I met a set of Corpers whose ways of living were not quite like mine. Many had one bush allowance or the other, as the students in the secondary school and village beauties were called, a decision I had decided against because of my commitment to my then partner. I faced serious temptations, the beauties and ‘African Queens’ of Kwambai making their ways to my lodge at very unholy hours. I stood firm because I had learnt the value of loyalty.

Whatever we do while we are in a place has this way of speaking for us. I had a few reasons not to dedicate myself to the school where I taught. I however chose to do my bit. Three, four years down the road, they still call me from a better developed Kwambai. My students, the ones I gave free lessons after school, my colleagues, the teachers I met in that school, folks in town (as I later moved to town to be closer to civilization) all still call me to enquire about how well I am faring, chipping in words of prayer.

I learnt what dedication can achieve for you. I earned the respect of people in the village and in town because of the commitment I showed to things I did. I remember how I taught my pupils the multiplication table. Very explanatory that I felt good after the dullest student scored all marks in their class work. It was hard at first but I soaked myself in and came out happy and fulfilled. I was the tisha oko, village teacher.

I learnt how to make profit in Kwambai. I told to God to let me eat the good of that land, Takum and Kwambai. I learnt to buy and sell honey while there in Takum and Kwambai. A few years down the road, I still do that. I had folks who did not want to get stressed but I readied myself, got dirty carrying the load and sold to make profit. I still sell honey to augment my income. Honey, sweetness it has added to me, swellness it has added to my purse.

Whatever I am today, that I talk less, listen more; that I behave odd some times, that I crave to be alone occasionally, that I just act in a way some folks see as weird, can all be traced down to my one year away from full civilization. Taraba has added to me; Kwambai I can never forget. For a year in the village has simmered me down, has taken away the major exuberance and delinquencies in me and opened my eye to see the world, and life, in the right light.

This writer is @oscarpoems on twitter

CELEBRATING A RECURRENT DECIMAL IN MY LIFE, AKINADE ADEWALE

May 31^st has come and gone but there is never a time too late or too long gone to celebrate the people who matter in our lives. Today I celebrate one who is so dear to me in every regard of the word. One who is an integral part of my life-childhood to adulthood. One of those without whom the story of my childhood is complete. Many call him Pastor Adewale Akinade, we call him brother Dewale, some others call him Baba Feranmi, I call him my second Dad.

Pastor Wale is one of my patrilineal cousins, his mother is my father’s elder sister. I remain ever grateful for the kind of close-knit family that I come from. You can hardly differentiate between direct siblings and cousins as we all stood up for one another in our growing up years. The family is one which I am always proud to show off to my friends and some have not been able to hide the fact that they envy me.

Beyond the general relationship among us all, there is this personal relationship that many people do not know. It is in situations like this that such relationships are exposed for all to see. My relationship with Bro Dewale started even before I was conceived. I have asked my father how it all started. It is one beautiful grass to grace story.

Father told me that during his NYSC days in Abeokuta, it was decided that young Dewale, his nephew, be brought to him in Abeokuta to stay with him for coaching prior to his O Level exams. That was the start of a relationship that has gone beyond the general family relationship. My arrival into the family strengthened the relationship as Brother Dewale more or less was my nanny and big cousin.

Momma worked in a bank and the onus for my care fell on Brother Wale who diligently carried out that responsibility. If you have ever seen a man back a baby in a picture, I have experienced it real life. Brother Dewale, I was told, backed me to the old Sango market in Ibadan. Even then, you hardly found young men of his age who would do that for their uncle’s wives. Many would even say it does not agree with Yoruba culture.

Early Days: File picture of the toddler me and Pastor Wale

Pastor Wale took me under his wings, like his own biological child. He was never complete without me by his side back then. He took special interest in me and bought me things, things that would thrill a kid like I was back then. He had this way of speaking to me that was firm, but gentle. He talked to me as if I was more mature than my age back then. I can never tell the story of my toddlerhood and early childhood without him.

The beautiful days of yore when Trans Amusement Park was the toast of the young and old in Ibadan, Bro Wale (as we later started calling him) was the first to take myself and my then only younger brother to the place. We had lots of fun. He always made sure I was happy, made sure he treated myself and the others right.

Before I move on to other things, I remember he played an active role in my 10^th and my brother, Yinka’s 8^th birthday parties. You know what birthday parties meant to us back then. He made sure it was one day to remember for us. He cared a lot about our academics and was ready to reward excellence as if we were studying for him.

Even when he relocated to my other cousins, I still felt the impact of Pastor Wale (as we later called him). We all forged a closer bond and would always go to our now late grandmother in Aba Iwo (Iwo village, now called Aba Ooni, after Ooni of Ife). We always looked forward to that Christmas travelling as it was one with lots of fun.

As an eloquent speaker of the English Language, Pastor Wale took on the role of interpreter in the Church. He is undoubtedly one interpreter that we have struggled to replace since he relocated from Nigeria a few years ago. I am sure he would still be welcome to interpret as he was Baba’s first choice interpreter. He was that good that any guest minister would have no qualms working with him for the first time.

He combined that role with being the Youth Pastor of Salvation Proclaimers Anointed Church, our joint cradle and performed superbly well in discharging his duties. He was committed to a fault, I mean he epitomized commitment and would zealously immerse himself in anything without minding on whose toes he might be stepping. That got him into trouble a few times, but justified him overall.

I have learnt how to be a husband and father even before I get married from this dear cousin of mine. I have heard of mother hen, never heard of father cock. He puts in everything to make comfortable his wife, Aunty Funke and his wonderful children, Feranmi and Fiyin. I remember my ‘egbon’ would drop his car with his wife and take public transport to work because he could not bear having his wife get stressed in picking up the children from school.

Wale Akinade and family

I can say more and more but I would not want to bore you with stories of this large hearted cousin of mine. Need I say that he started my year on a very great note by doing something that really ranks among the best deeds I have received? Can everyone join me by dropping comments to celebrate this wonderful man who has been a blessing to me, the family we both come from, the church and the society.

Happy birthday Sir. Gracefully shall you age and you shall be the reason for a chuckle, a smile and a hilarious laughter. In the hollow of His palm shall you dwell and the Lord will daily renew your strength. In case I have never said it to your face or hearing, I LOVE YOU BIG COUSIN, AND I WILL NOT STOP. HUGS AND KISSES.

JONATHAN’S UNMATCHABLE ACHIEVEMENTS

A few days before May 29, I have been asking questions trying to x-ray Mr. (sorry Dr.) Goodluck Jonathan’s first year of his own full term of office as Nigeria’s President. It is so sad that I do not have enough in my brain or purse to rival Oga Ebele or his cronies in the art and act of governance. I however have the privilege of seeing a few things and commenting like many people have been doing in the last one year.

I am sorry if I disappoint a few people with the direction of this piece. It is however how exactly I feel. I have asked why many people simply delight in taking a dig at the President at any available forum. Truth be told many of us will not fare any better as President of the complex entity that the Federal Republic of Nigeria. “Uneasy lies the head that wear the crown”, they say.

Let us not be unnecessarily harsh, the Jonathan administration has tried one way or the other. I can even say without any fear of contradiction that this administration has tried in ways than one. Whatever the court of public opinion says, the achievements of Dr. Jonathan are there for all to see and for those whose sights are blurry, the achievements speak for themselves.

It is on record that this administration has made a lot of promises and will go down in history as the one which showed a lot of concern for the populace. The administration that concerned itself with the future and sought to remove fuel subsidy because the economy would crumble if things went on that way. Tell me what is bad in planning for the future. It is said that he who fails to plan, plans to fail.

Palliatives in form of buses came in to the country as quickly as possible. Tell me which government will hurriedly bring in refurbished buses to “cushion the effect of subsidy removal” if it is not a government that sincerely cares. The distribution of these buses has been put on hold because the people have not appreciated the kind gesture of government and government does not want to send a wrong signal to ‘ordinary Nigerians’.

In whose tenure has sordid details of the way our ‘rulers’ brazenly loot been exposed? Yet unappreciative Nigerians keep abusing His Excellency for not taking action. Who has achieved the feat of cans of worms being opened on a regular basis. Fuel Subsidy scam, Malibu (or whatever they call it), Aunty Diezani’s few trillions of naira. Under whose leadership has much scandal broken? Yet you say Dr. Jonathan has not achieved anything in one year. Unfair Nigerians.

A President whose administration has been carefully studying subsidy probe reports to avoid jailing people wrongly is here accused of not showing commitment to fighting corruption. Why should a person who is accused of stealing trillions go to jail? Such a person can use that brain to the benefit of mankind in Nigeria. Petty thieves must go to jail because they are too dumb for them to have committed crimes that small. Yet we are so unappreciative and unfair to this government.

Tell me which government in the history of Nigeria has spent quite enough money on security like the Jona administration. People still open their mouths to condemn a government which has shown enough commitment to fighting terrorism by allocating a sizeable sum of money for security. Please can someone tell me if there is any amount too much to secure lives and properties in the country, a vast country with diverse cultures like Nigeria.

This government has only taught the youth how not to spend money anyhow. Yet ingrates who the government has given a source of livelihood and a ‘whooping’ N20,000 monthly complained that their ‘allawee’ came in late. How on earth will they face up to the reality of the present day Nigeria. Some others abuse a government that is working tirelessly to provide electricity (or power as they call it) of breeding the ‘generator generation’. This ungrateful set of Nigerians

A government that is trying not to overheat the polity is being accused by many Nigerians of being protective of the ‘cabal’. Why in God’s name should the Jonathan administration release the list of Boko Haram sponsors? There is tension in the land already, so why should any list of Boko Haram sponsors be released? Why should the so-called ‘cabal’ be prosecuted? The polity is too hot to be heated the more. The useless opposition parties just want to add more fuel to the current fire in Nigeria.

Will Nigerians just show some more understanding and stand by this government in these trying times. Dr. Jona has begged us not to abandon him, he needs our unalloyed support. Please let us support him and his team with prayers, prayers like that of Most Reverend Peter Jasper Akinola, a Nigerian legend that has spoken himself into my Nigerian Hall of Fame, a group that also include the like of Reverend Father Matthew Kukah, Gani Fawehinmi, Professor Sabitu Olagoke and other reputable Nigerians.

I’m outta here…xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo