Expendable Love

I miss you those long slow days

I miss you even more those cold dark nights

I wasn’t born with you as an appendage but you've become a part of me so quickly

I have lived most part of my life without you, but the moment you stepped in...You became invaluable

The perfect chemistry, I ride on you but you forever remain loyal

I let you down...down to the ground over and over again and you let out not a single complaint

Through the ups and downs, you loyalty have remained unquestioned

You are my window to a larger world, hitherto I never knew existed

On the table of socialization I often break the norm and flirt with you intermittently, I know it’s wrong, but with you around right is hard

I love the fact that you know you are expendable

I will surely shove you away when I find another more sophisticated than you...in the light of this you still offer your best

Although the frustration you and MTN jointly cause me with those slow network connection is second to none...

My phone...if you were human I'm sure you would have been a lady

Triumph, Tempest and Hope

Giant of her Mother, Pride of her father

Heart of the continent upon which she strides

Her beauty arouses envy and wonder Gestures of strength she employs to chide

Her demeanour reflects obstacles Overcome

With shimmering tears that holds hope untold

Her sway tells the history of battles won

With elegance piercing into the future as time unfolds

Her smile gives rise to the morning sun

And to the depressed, happiness to behold

Her companionship brings peace and her presence radiates delight

To her offspring she instills character and in the works of her hands, dignity abound

She feeds her clan with fine harvest and of spring from where the greats have drank

Her bosom flows of crude and palm Renewing its vitality with the passing time

She feeds the continent and distance clans

In return, not a dime

In her ties lies morality and virtue

Qualities she has kept pristine

As received from nature to whom she have been true

Appreciating with the swing of the pendulum as with wine

For the wellness of her own, she lived through the risk

Through out her enterprise she hath remained chaste

Her heart made not with flesh but kindness

She commands respect with her ambience

Her words brings not distress but calmness

Words of solace she speaks even in silence

Hundred years of matrimony and fifty five years of Adulthood

Six children, thirty six grandchildren; evidence of her parenthood

Her innocence tried and her softness cries

Her serenity encroached and her peace defiled

Threatened by divorce from the south and east

Weakened by annihilation from the north

Taste of her salty tears caused by the fruit her womb brought forth

Her smile now ridden with a contour

But she'll overcome as before, that's sure

Carrying on strong strong and virile as the days after the war

Obizy…

                                                                               

KILL ALL UNWANTED CULTURE

  

Few years ago, I was walking out of my University's microbiology laboratory after a practical class, and beside the electric switch close to the exit door I saw a notice printed on a white A4 paper with black ink, it read; KILL ALL UNWANTED CULTURE.

It took me a few minutes to recall that culture in microbiology is a term used in explaining the artificial growing of microorganisms, the notice was actually reminding the laboratory users not to leave used cultures lying carelessly in the laboratory. But on the other hand culture also means the way of life of a people; this includes their tribe, arts, custom, religion, language, folklore, myth, legend, and so on.

As I entered one of the campus shuttles to head to the hostel, I made that notice a subject of my meditation. I thought of the meaning, I, or any other person would have read to that notice if it was pasted somewhere else like a bus park, church, mosque, club house, street, an office, or any other public place.

I thought of the extent of good killing or rather eliminating of our cultural heritage would do us, or if it will do us any good at all. This made me turn ma reflections to the odds culture (precisely tribalism) has brought us. It is evident that one factor that is threatening our cooperate existence as Nigerians after our Religious and Political differences is our cultural diversity. If we look at the situation in Nigeria holistically, one will see that if all the foreign religions (Christianity, Islam et al) are wiped out from Nigeria, there will still be no guaranty of absolute peace and serenity.

Over the years, Tribalism and cultural differences have had a great negative impact on major sectors in Nigeria, this can be seen in what is happening in the political arena, today every politician's plan is to get into power and exult his/her people and when a sane politician try to break away from this wrong and engage in even development, He will eventually win the hatred of he's tribesmen.

Another sector which cultural differences have helped in crippling is the Educational sector, in Nigeria today, when it comes to gaining admission into most higher institution and even some secondary schools, your last name is of more importance than your UTME score or any other qualification you bring forward, this constitutes one of the major reasons why I am strongly against the scrapping of UTME, because if UTME is eventually scrapped and the system still remain as corrupt as it is presently, then it will take a miracle for a child  bearing 'PAM' to obtain admission into any University in Nigeria that is not in Plateau state.

In the labour market the story is no different, we’ve all heard or seen where people with better qualification and experience are discriminated against because of their cultural identity.

But despite the negative effect of our cultural diversity on our cooperate existence as Nigerians, it is irrational to try to eliminate it as one of Nigeria's prolific Author; Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie rightly stated and I quote “...my point is that the only authentic identity for the African is the tribe...I am Nigerian Because a white man created Nigeria and gave me that identity. I am black because the white man constructed black to be as different as possible from his white. But I was Igbo before the white man came.”

This explains why many Nigerian parents at home(Nigeria) and in the Diaspora try very hard to instill in their children their cultural heritage and attributes, they do this by teaching the growing  child about their ethnicity, the norms of their people, their dialect, their myths, their beliefs, their proverbs and all the likes. This in it self is not bad way of bringing up a child, but when these teachings are being mixed up with sentiments and trying to make one's culture seem superior to all other culture, that is when the real problem sets in, the same problem Emperor Haile Selassie was talking about when he said  “...Until the philosophy which holds one race superior and another inferior is finally and permanently discredited and abandoned, everywhere is war and until there are no longer first-class and second-class citizens of any nation, until the color of a man's skin is of no more significance than the color of his eyes. And until the basic human rights are equally guaranteed to all without regard to race, there is war. And until that day, the dream of lasting peace, world citizenship, rule of international morality, will remain but a fleeting illusion to be pursued, but never attained” 

From the foregoing, it is evident that culture as a whole is as important as every other aspect of every Nigerian's life, so it is both diabolical and unfair to downgrade or downplay any ones cultural ethics. Instead of killing all 'unwanted' culture, we should actually KILL ALL UNWANTED CULTURAL SENTIMENTS AND SUPERIORITY.

Miss Joy

                                               

2nd of January 2014, the phrase that filled the air was 'happy new year' it came from my neighbours and colleagues at work, some of which I took out time to wish same and occasionally just muffled 'thank you' to those who I knew just said the 'happy new year' for formality, I got to work late that day and found out that most of the occupants of Bupia plaza were still enjoying the new year break except for David the barber, Ray the music producer and that nosy Roty-kunzults ltd secretary, all of whom have never been to the plaza earlier than me for as long as I could remember. Not as if I just decided to go to work late on the first working day of the year, but it was either my alarm wanted to stage me by not ringing or it was the hangover that deafened my ears, I found myself awake and still lying lazily on the bed by 8:58am faced with a dilemma; I either had to start looking for panadol to calm the disorganized orchestras banging in my head or start performing a magic that will get me to  Bupia plaza before 8am  which was impossible. After a nanosecond of thinking I scrambled to my feet and I was at the plaza by 10:02am, about 2 hours late!

After I dusted and cleaned my confines, I was ready to attend to the customers who came in after very long intervals, the day was a bit uneventful to my advantage, I had time to think about how I happened to consume that large quantity of alcohol knowing  fully well that the next day was a working day. I was still lost in wondering contemplation when I heard a pleasant female voice  said ''hello'' I looked up and the face I saw rang a bell, not until she said she was looking for Michael(my colleague) I thought she was one of the girls from the previous day.

She narrated that she gave Michael a work to do for Her the week before and He told Her it was going to be ready by Monday, but due to some reasons best known to her she was not able to make it on Monday so She had come to see if she could get it, I explained to her that Michael's shift starts by 3pm and she had to wait for about 2 hours since it was just pass 1, she agreed to wait, probably because the work she gave Michael to do for her was more important than the things she kept saying she needed to do at home. She had this gorgeous smile which complimented her fair face and the long dark hair that stylishly flowed down her shoulders, I offered her a sit after She called my attention to the fact that my eyes where soon going to bore holes on her face. She sat on the chair which was slightly to my right and began to wait for Michael while scrolling through her phone, normally I would have started a discussion which will end with ''can I have your number?'' But on this occasion I had a big problem or so I thought, My problem was not remembering what happened the previous day, couldn’t remember how and when I got home, and why I slept with my shoes, wrist watch and belt on, I was just about to pick up my phone and call Joseph to know if he could give me any clue as to how the previous day ended when I heard the lady whose name I later learnt was Joy said ''...so is this how boring this place gets during festive seasons?'' (if only she knew the kind of thinking that was going on in my head) I raised my head to look to her direction and said with a forced smile''...yea, it might be boring for you but it’s not boring inside my head''

She giggled and told me how it was nice of me not letting my mind be the idle mind that would become the devils workshop, obviously she didn't understand what I meant and I didn't bother to explain, it kept the conversation going. After our about 2 hours of chatting which was cut short when Michael arrived, it dawned on me that what I thought was a problem to me was not worthy to be called a problem compared to what she had faced and was facing.

She started by telling me how she was happy for me that my looks and accent didn't tell that I was from the eastern part of the country, she talked about how dubious and aggressive some eastern fellows could be and I couldn't agree less, my unpleasant upper iweka experience was still fresh in my head. She told that she was born and brought up in Jos and only left Jos to Benin in February of 2011 when she got admitted into University of Benin to study Law and She had been in Benin ever since, and that she just came back around November 2013 for the first time since leaving for school.

I couldn't help but wonder what she was doing in Benin during all the breaks between semesters and especially the ASUU strike, then my curiosity led me to ask her why She had spend such a long time in Benin without coming home to see Her folks, that was when she told me what I never expected Her to tell someone she just met, She told me that she messed up, that she made a very careless mistake in her first year, I was expecting the mistake to be a couple of carry overs or  at worst, an extra year. I had to swallow back my heart and catch my breath when She told me that She got pregnant towards the end of Her first year.

I was disturbed, not because I have never seen an undergraduate get pregnant but because this particular undergraduate I was planning to chyke who I was sure was not more than 20 years of age had a 10 months old boy at home.

She narrated to me her Ordeal, how she was pregnant for nine months without any of her family members knowing, coming up with excuses for not coming home for 3 years, She further told me about how sure she was that She was going to die, but had a hard time deciding which means of death was best for her, she was either to let the stigma of being a pregnant teenager kill her or high blood pressure from too much thinking or even just let her Dad do the killing, another option she considered was taking her own life. Although she didn't spare me the details of how she was able to cater for the child, her self and her academics at the same time, but one can only imagine what she went through.

When she left after collecting her completed work from Michael, I thought about how she had gone through the whole stuff and still retained that brilliant smile and beauty that lit up the whole room, that was when I saw the truth in the saying that ''those who smile more have experienced the most pain''.

...the conversation didn't end with 'can I have your number', but it ended with me knowing that

'Nobody has it easy, everybody has issues, you never know what people are going through  so pause before you start judging, criticizing and mocking others, everybody is fighting their own unique war'

…Obi.z.y

...my first post have to be about me;

                                                     

The past two decades of my life have been characterized by a series of myriad events and experiences all of which have contributed to the 'O.b.i.zy', most of these events although individually unique are together complete and have meticulously built my personality.

I had an extremely happy childhood albeit the toys and coloured screen television was not really present but there was love and affection, care and protection, amity and connection, friends and foes, big dreams and set goals, above all there was an invaluable family of two superb Parents, four warm Sisters and two dynamic Brothers. With all this, what more can one ask for? I was the last of this great Family of nine, being the last child added a lot of flavour to my childhood, I enjoyed a little more protection and attention from my Parents who never hesitated to replace the pamper with a hard spank whenever it got to my head.

On the other side of the door knob was the best neighbourhood ever; the streets of Rukubaroad, a conventional Nigerian neighbourhood located in Jos Plateau state (...just so you'll know, I am JOSTIFIED!!!).

The streets of Rukubaroad had a lot of unique and interesting personalities that made the street always filled with fun and entertainment. My house was a few blocks away from the popular 'fillin laka' football field, so I obviously never missed out on the fun.

The streets of rukubaroad was as diverse as any neighbourhood could be, it had families from at least 20 Nigerian ethnic groups and it also had families with different religious beliefs, It was a neighbourhood where Mustapha and Martin were best friends as boys, played football together and exchanged toys.

Infant Jesus primary School was another interesting aspect of my childhood, although most of the memories are now blur but the perpetual bully and wanton slaps from Otene Ogiri who use to be the biggest boy in primary four still remain indelible. I could remember third term holidays being the most anticipated days of my childhood life, could still remember the almost 24hours of uninterrupted play with my childhood friends; Oma, Inalegu, Oni, Eboli, Ligang, Lucky (R.I.P), Chukwuemeka, Nanpido, Martin, Mustapha, John, Ugochukwu, Aboy, and a whole lot of others, although by early 2000 most of the families of my friends relocated but memories of the long hours we played together never left my head.

I often reminisce over the very eventful days of dashing out of the house just after breakfast to meet my ever available army of friends(...as a bad guy that I was back then, I use to role with more dawgs than cops on a man haunt) then we will commence our always fun filled routine of play which mostly started by going to 'fillin laka' to watch the morning football training while using the spare balls to play 'center ball' behind the field, after the 'balling' we will proceed to scouting our neighborhoods for used aluminium containers or used zincs which we straightened and made to shapes of cars. We would then drive (by pulling with a rope) this our improvised toy cars around our neighbourhood in tandem, little did we know that our creativity was envied by those who owned actual  toy cars. On some occasions after the morning training we would play the crown cock football, first we would visit a beer parlour which was by the road side to gather crown cocks which we used as players, then we'll search for radio tapes, collect the rollers to use as balls, find a suitable hall way to use as pitch and the game began.

There was a certain evening I and Eboli where playing the crown cock football in the corridor of my house so as to put an end to the argument of who the best was and to my greatest  disappointment he won me(the self acclaimed champ...lol),out of hurting pride I accused him of cheating and I insisted that we repeated the game, he agreed, we played again and he won again, I couldn't stand his jubilation and before I knew it, my fist was attacking him without my permission, we exchanged a couple of blows that evening, before morning the next day we 'balling' together like nothing ever happened.

As children back then, we often spent most of our afternoons playing 'Baram', the 'Baram' was made by cutting old and unwanted slippers into 2 or 3 circular shapes of the same diameter and sewing them together using a thread. The game was played using sticks that were a bit curved at the end by as many players as available, the players were evenly distributed on either side of the line which was in the middle of the field. The 'Baram' game began when one player from either side of the line roles the 'Baram' slow and steady towards the players on the other side and any of the players on the other side uses his stick to hit the approaching Baram sending it back to where it was coming from, the whole process is repeated until the 'Baram' comes to rest on either side of the line giving the other players a point, This game could go on for hours until we all got exhausted.

Evenings in rukubaroad was mostly time for home videos, we would migrate in our numbers to their Oma's living room as they were among the few who had a video player back then, after watching about two to three movies(actor and bose ish...una know as e dey be now),night will fall and it was time to go home and that's when the ultimate search for my slipper will begin, probably because some smooth operators whose slipper where dead and gone has seized the opportunity of the dark environment to exchange theirs with the newest slipper around. After being a victim of missing slipper a couple of times I wised up and started wearing my slipper on my elbow each time we wanted to go in and watch movies. After the slipper searching episode that's when I will realize that since sun rise I have not stepped my foot at home and most definitely what my Mum use to call 'salary' was waiting for me at home, not only because I had been out of the house all day but because after a long day of rounding the neighbourhood on foot, baram playing ,somersaulting on all the available hips of sand I will be looking like a brother to harmattan, consequently I will always develop cold feet while approaching home. On my arrival my Mum will grant me the privilege of choosing which cane and how many strokes I want for my salary, needless to say it was like choosing between the devil and the deep blue sea, after receiving the day's salary, I’ll take my bath after being forced to, eat my usually sumptuous meal, then head to the sitting room to be forced to watch 9 o'clock news by my Dad (...that's why I always hated NTA).

The days cookie usually crumble after my habitual falling asleep in the sitting room while watching the stupid network news and magically waking up on the bed the next morning.

Obviously my childhood was awesome but like everyone else, I fell into the trap of growing up, I had to start doing a lot of things by myself, I even had to start doing house chores and running unending errands for my elder ones (...remember I had 6 of them, so the errands were really unending),it became a crime for me to go out and play all because I was grown.

Apparently, life grew complex and I grew competent...and am still growing!

O.b.i.zy…