Monday, January 19, 2015
‘Notorious
Bridges’ Link PDP With APC In Kwara Church
Never should you invite a politician to mount the pulpit to
give a talk at a funeral ceremony especially during an election period. He may
stir the hornet's nest and inadvertently pollute the atmosphere. That's exactly
what happened Friday, January 9, 2015, when a politician stood up to pay
tribute during a funeral service for the late deputy director-general of DSS,
David Jide Awoniyi who passed on last November (see Milestones: Awoniyi’s Rites of Passage).
The representative of the Peoples Democratic Party, PDP, had
stood up to deliver what the congregation expected to be a tribute in memory of
the departed soul but he chose to deliver a political treatise telling his
listeners the need to "shine (their) eyes" during the forthcoming
elections so that their desires might come into fruition especially in the
provision of social amenities like good roads and bridges to replace those he
referred to as "the notorious bridges in Igbominaland" an obvious
reference to the dilapidated Oko Bridge on the Omu-Aran-Oro Ago Road.
The veiled campaign was not lost in the opposing camp. This
became obvious when a representative of the All Progressives Congress, APC,
government of Kwara State also climbed the pulpit to deliver an address on
behalf of the government. But first he felt he had to deal with the political
kite flown by his 'political opponent' and which was still hovering in the
minds of the entire congregation. But if the PDP man had hit APC in the solar
plexus he would not allow the "unprovoked attack" go unchallenged. He
literally came out smoking with vengeance. In his preamble he said he could not
understand why anybody should mount the pulpit to be saying things like these.
Then he delivered what looked like a hammer blow. "All the things he has
been saying do not make sense... Seriously speaking, this does not make sense
to me".
Some murmuring could be heard among the congregation. The
clergy noticed the disquiet and promptly organised a truce. The two ‘combatants’
were called out for a special prayer. Unfortunately only one was present during
the special prayer "for our politicians". Smart Adeyemi, senator
representing Kogi West, stood in for the PDP while S. A. Abifarin, representing
the state governor stood in for APC. It was a clever move by the clergy who
seized the opportunity to preach against politics of bitterness and the need
for politicians to desist from acts capable of causing disaffection among the
various political groups not only in Kwara State but also in the whole
federation.
As if taking a cue from the impromptu truce organised for the
warring parties in the Oro Ago ECWA church, Kwara State, the national leaders
and presidential candidates of the leading parties also sat down in Abuja,
Wednesday, January 14, to sign a non-violence pact as the countdown for the
February elections began.
Sunday, January 18, 2015
Awoniyi’s Rites of Passage
"The
final is not final", said the officiating minister shortly after the
burial ceremony. "After death comes resurrection and judgment day".
Shortly thereafter there was the traditional gun salute to bid David Olajide Awoniyi, former deputy
director-general (Technical) of the State Security Services, now Department of
State Services, DSS, farewell. He died November 14, 2014. It was a sombre
moment for the congregation assembled in front of his country house in Oro Ago,
Ifelodun Local Government area, Kwara State, January 9, 2014.
But
just like the pastor had said the final obsequies was not actually final. There
was more to come. There was a funeral and thanksgiving service at the First
Evangelical Church of West Africa [now known as Evangelical Church Winning All]
ECWA, Oro Ago, followed by a reception back in the country house. Again, that
was not final. The family hosted friends, relations, guests and other well-wishers
to another grand reception in Ilorin, same day. Indeed it was an elaborate
farewell programme.
The
rites of passage was a one week affair spanning Abuja, Ilorin and Oro Ago with
service of songs in Abuja, wake-keep service in Ilorin and burial in Oro Ago,
his hometown, where he was born on January 3, 1943. He attended Titcombe
College, Egbe, and had his Higher School Certificate at the Government
Secondary School, Okene, Kogi State. He later graduated from the Ahmadu Bello
University, Zaria, with a B.Sc. in Electrical Engineering, a course which
earned him his first job as an engineer with the Broadcasting Corporation of Northern Nigeria, BCNN, Kaduna, from
where he moved to Ilorin, Kwara State, in 1977 to help establish the Kwara State Television Network under the
aegis of the Nigerian Television
Authority, NTA. Awoniyi's string of successes in the engineering
department of NTA soon caught the attention of the powers that be who had him
transferred to the State House Annex of the then Nigerian Security
Organisation, NSO, as director of technical services. He was later promoted
deputy national security adviser, a position he held until he voluntarily
retired in 1999. In a tribute to his memory, Umaru Ali Shinkafi, former head of
the NSO described him as “an accomplished scientist, brilliant, accommodating
and innovative”. Ekpeyong E. Ita, present boss of the DSS echoed similar
sentiments in equally glowing epithets. He referred to him as “this brilliant
and accomplished Nigerian”.
It
was indeed tributes galore for Awoniyi, described by one of his daughters, Funmilola
Oteri, as “a man who taught his children the value of living life with purpose,
courage, integrity and faith”. The first daughter, Bukola Oderinde, sees her
father as a man who fought “for a better Nigeria, a better Kwara State
and a better Oro Ago”.
Awoniyi
is survived by six daughters, all of whom are described by one of their
fathers-in-law as “professionals, extraordinary mothers, wives and humble,
spiritual children of God”.
Monday, February 10, 2014
Valentine Blues
-->
"Marriage is the only war where
you sleep with the enemy"
My
friend, you must have been wondering where I have been since all these days.
Well, it is Adio, my husband, who has been giving me the treat of my life.
Since our reconciliation meeting, he has been showering me with blessings and
affections, especially since his thugfather single-handedly made him the new
president of the Semovita Kingdom. You need to see how he is now crazy about
me. Without me, he cannot eat. Without me, he cannot sleep. Without me, he
cannot even urinate. Because of me, he bought a book of text messages and, ever
since, it has been messages galore on my handset. I never imagined that Oko mi Adio, without ever having been to
Rome, could be so romantic… He has 're-valentined' my life.
You
are making me jealous.
Jealous?
Just spare me that crap lest you end up inside the well because that's where
your type always ends. But, my friend, help me thank Baba Iyaboh, my national
father-in-law, for the GSM he introduced to the country. If not for his
revolution, I would not be receiving the kind of Valentine messages and calls I
have been receiving from my heartthrob. I remember his first message to me the
very day he purchased his GSM phone: "My darlin', where were you before
you came camping in my heart? You started a fire and now my heart is filled
with flames." I couldn't believe it. Oko
mi Adio sending me a romantic message? I teasingly asked him to forward his
message to the GSM provider or the Fire Brigade. The wonderful blockhead did
not get the message. Instead, he sent what he thought to be another love
booster: "Everyone wants to be the sun that lights up your life but I,
your darlin' husband, would rather be your moon, so I can shine on you during
your darkest hour when NEPA strikes". I quickly picked up my phone and
told him some home truths. I said I deserved more than a standby generator.
"I want you as my constant supply of light till death do us part", I
concluded. You know what? Oko mi Adio
lifts his text messages, word for word, without taking cognisance of the
prevailing circumstance or mood. I have never seen such a pleasantly idiotic
plagiarist in my life. The other day when I was on admission at St. Patient's
Specialist Hospital, Apongbon, in downtown Lagos, all Oko mi Adio did was to send me this message: "Of all the
friends I've ever met, you're the one I won't forget in a hurry. And if I die
before you do, I'll go to heaven and wait for you." I read the message
over and over again. What's Oko mi Adio up
to?
He
didn't mean any harm, you know.
You
think so? Is that the kind of message people send to their loved ones who are
convalescing in hospital? You kuku
know me. I managed to sit up in bed and scribble a wait-and-get response:
"Obtain your visa fast but make sure you write your will". He thought
of atoning for his deed by sending me another fast-food-like text package:
"I have a little angel flying around with a hammer, each person he hits
gets a little dose of my love. I hope he beats the hell out of you.” I was
devastated. Why should Oko mi Adio
send an Iron Mike Tyson as angel to me? I called him, “Haba! Oko mi Adio. I know where you got that message from but
can’t you use your sixth sense to recycle
and tailor it to suit the prevailing circumstances?” He did not allow me to
finish when he said he would send another message that I'd definitely like. And
what was it? He went through the text book and came out with a message that had
recycle in it: "Darlin', it's
true they recycle paper till it's as
good as new; reproduce cans, jars and old bottles too, but they can never recycle another person as you." I
said, "look at this suegbe.
Where was he when the oyinbo people
recycled a sheep and they named it Dolly? Very soon, they will recycle even
Dolly Parton herself. Oko mi Adio was
terribly angry and, for the first time in his life, asked the chief of staff,
COS, of Government Villa to talk to me. "Is that Her Excellency?" the
COS started. I told him, in no unmistaken terms, that I am not Her Excellency.
Only God is His Excellency. All mortals are mediocre. Only Oko mi Adio and those who are backing him like his thugfather can call themselves Their
Excellencies. I am simply Mrs. Adio.
And
what was his response?
He
pretended he did not hear me. Instead he launched out like a battering ram,
"Madam, do you take His Excellency to be your lawful text mate, to love
and to hold, in fine and good lexicon, in poor signal and no service, till low
credit do you part?" I said, "I do, I do". He said if I did,
then I should not harass His Excellency again over his text messages to me
whether they were original or copied, creative or not, pedestrian or motorised,
logical or illogical, wise or foolish. I said, "Yes, sir." Afterall,
one should learn to say, "Yes, sir" to the mad man so he could make
way for one to pass.
You
don't mean it!
I
do, but that was the greatest mistake of my life. Oko mi Adio now took liberty for licence. 'Gyraffing' and xeroxing
became his real business as if he were a WASCE or JAMB candidate. He started
lifting messages indiscriminately to 'impress' me. Only God knows whether he
did the same for his thugfather. On
my last birthday, Oko mi Adio sent me
the most unromantic message any spouse could send to his partner. "I never
forget my wife's birthday. It's usually the day after she reminds me about it.
Happy birthday, Mrs. Adio." I know he lifted it ink, pen and paper. The
only new thing there was my name. I ignored him and his message. Then he sent
another after waiting, as through for Godot, for my response. "No man is
truly married until he understands every word his wife is not saying."
That sounded intelligent to me and I told him so. What he sent the following
day was even more philosophical: "Marriage is the only war where you sleep
with the enemy". I reflected on this message and wondered aloud whether
it's not true, indeed, to always learn to endure what one cannot avoid like Oko mi Adio. As if he was reading my
mind, another message just came into the inbox: "Love is not finding
someone to live with, it's finding someone you can't live without". I
called him to ask why this is so. You know what the graceful pig of a
chauvinist said? He said the full meaning of wife is actually: "Worries Invited For Ever". I argued why anybody should
live with worries at all. If my husband does not love me again, then I should
have the right to seek for divorce.
And
what's his take on that?
He
said divorce is the past tense of marriage
and we should rather focus on the present tense which is love and the future tense which is children. Can you believe that? But he
agreed that nobody will ever win the battle of the sexes because "there's
too much fraternising with the enemy". I asked if I should be considered
an enemy. In his usual chauvinistic, arrogant style, he said even if women were
in jet fighters or helicopter gunboats, men would always be on top in any war
of the sexes. I quickly called off his bluff: "You may conquer with your sword, but you are easily conquered by a
kiss". His response was
devastating. "Love is like an hourglass, with the heart filling up as the
brain empties". I chuckled to myself, "No wonder some men are empty
upstairs despite their huge endowments downstairs".
Sure?!
First appeared in TELL, March 6, 2006.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
The Many Sins of Oko mi Adio
My friend, I’ve come again to let you
know about the albatross I call a husband. Actually, he is no longer a burden
but an embarrassment of the worst order. My husband, alias Oko mi Adio, has not changed from his ways though he promised long
time ago that he would try his best to turn a new leaf. He remains his old self
— an unmitigated disaster.
You mean Adio, your husband, has not
changed at all?
For where? Instead of things being
better for the itinerant porter, his head has started getting bald like a
vulture’s. Since Oko mi Adio became
the Sole Administrator of our local government area, he has turned the whole
place upside down, inside out.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Adio, My Husband
My
husband is Jimoh Omi Adio but I call him Oko
mi Adio, which translates ‘Adio, my husband.’ It is a pet name that has
stuck since I fell in love with him heart, soul and body. He is witty,
humorous, kind and gentle. My parents love him. My brothers, sisters, uncles
and cousins admire him because he is a perfect gentleman. He is the best husband
any woman can dream of. But, my friend, I don’t know what has happened to Oko mi Adio of recent. He has become
diabolically humorous and, at times, extravagantly upbeat. Initially, I thought
it was the same old Adio I knew. Now, I don’t know whether he has become senile
or imbecile.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Humour on Wheels
-->
“Johannesburg is the most
tree-planted city in the whole world. There are about six million trees in all,
but, honestly, I don’t know who counted them”
The Ali Baba of Soweto
He looks like a mine boy.
What else can he look like, anyway, with his close affinity with gauta-eng, the city of gold? Yes,
Johannesburg, the city sitting literally on gold, has produced many like him.
Kenny, for that is his name, is an educated, yet street-wise homeboy of Soweto,
the diminutive for Johannesburg's South-West Township. Wherever he goes the
neighbourhood guys seem to know him. A finger salute and a clenched fist are
enough to suggest that the Sowetans still imbibe the spirit of solidarity that
pervaded the land during the nationalists' struggle for freedom.
Kenny was, therefore, the
most appropriate tour guide in the circumstance, to lead a group of Nigerian
journalists and their hosts on a tour of Soweto this Monday afternoon. January
10, 2005. The reason is apparent. Nigerians are known for their boisterous
lifestyle and huge sense of humour. They appreciate same in others. Kenny was
no disappointment. Both in content and style, he made the visitors' day with
his political anecdotes and exclusive wisecracks. As the party took off from
the Holiday Inn in Sandton City in downtown Johannesburg. Kenny was quick to
point out an unusual feature of the metropolis, the dense vegetation cover.
“Johannesburg is the most tree-planted city in the whole world,” he told the
tourists, and added what they thought should be the clincher. “There are about
six million trees in all but, honestly, I don’t know who counted them.” It was
a comical anti-climax. As the journey progressed to the outskirts leading to
Soweto, Kenny took his listeners down memory lane. He reminisced on the bloody
struggles by the African National Congress, ANC, to break down the walls of
apartheid and how the then racist Pretoria government used every means at its
disposal and even at the disposal of others to mow down every opposition,
including school children when they rose in 1976 against a policy that
compelled the use of Afrikaans as the language of instruction in schools. He
took the tourists down to the Hector Pieterson Museum in the heart of Soweto to
see history in motion, both in audio and visuals.
They saw Steve Biko talking.
Winnie Mandela gesticulating and Desmond Tutu, in his famous cassock, preaching
the gospel of non-violence. They heard and saw police shooting at protesting
school children in the nighbourhoods. They also saw the famous photograph of a
fatally wounded Peterson, 13, being carried by a sympathiser, accompanied by
his wailing sister on that fateful June 16, 1976, when hell was let loose on
the streets of Soweto.
A solemn occasion truly
demands sober reflection. Throughout the stay in the apartheid museum, Kenny
kept his ‘big mouth' shut only to remove the chains on getting to Tutu's
residence in Orlando West. The brown-brick-wall house, fortified with security
gadgets plus spikes and barbed-wire on top of the fence, was a veritable butt
of joke to Kenny. "This is the man who always says it is only in God he
trusts," he said as a way of introducing Bishop Tutu. Everybody burst out
laughing.
His jokes may be caustic but
the eternal truth cannot be easily waved aside just like his comment on a
cemetery located at an intersection on the outskirts of Soweto. Said he:
"Everything there is dead, including the trees." Indeed, the trees
had withered and no one needed a coroner to attest to the fact that the
inhabitants of the graveyard were as lifeless as cadavers. Was the man poking
fun for the fun of it or just playing to the gallery?
What kind of man is this who
turns virtually everything into a joke? Kenny, at a closer observation, knew
what he was doing. Some of his jokes were apparently tailor-made for the
consumption of the micro-rainbow composition of his audience: black South
Africans, white South Africans and the visiting blacks from Nigeria. It was
left for each group to know which joke scored a homerun on the field of his
socio-political past.
How about a joke on
segregation? Kenny had just taken the tourists back to the Walter Sisulu Hall
(former Freedom Square where he said the ANC Freedom Charter was drafted) when
he saw a pack of black chickens placed on top of white ones by the roadside and
pointed the attention of everybody to the fact that "there is even
apartheid in animal kingdom!" Then he laughed a kind of laugh that always
induced other people to laugh. His baritone is almost as deep as that of the
legendary singer, Barry White.
Back in Soweto… On every
street, there are latent signs of black youths trying to pull themselves up by the
bootstraps in the rainbow nation. The hairdresser, the barber, the welder, the
mechanic, the food vendor, the butcher and the sportsmen. Whichever group you
belong to, Kenny has a laugh-line for you. For the hairdressers, he cannot help
wondering why women always want to change the natural order of things.
"Those who have straight hairs want to make them curl. Those who have
curly hairs want them straight!", he said as he mockingly stroked his own
Kalahari (clean-shaven) head. Will he spare mechanics and welders, the new
Soweto artisans? From the look of things, nobody was going to escape his
telescopic lens. Well, suddenly, he pointed to a welder near a car-wash depot
and praised him to the high heavens for what he called his expertise and
creativity in welding a leaking exhaust and making sure he creates another
point of weakness. The payoff? "He is not any different from the dentist
who fills a hole and digs another so that you can always come back to fill his
wallet." It was a coup de grace
and the bus almost exploded. But that was a guffaw too soon. Kenny, apparently,
was just warming up his humour machine as they later found out. He talked about
the new air of freedom, the countless business opportunities that abound in the
cities and the drive towards economic empowerment of the new South Africans,
some of whom have had a smooth, jolly ride into the middle class in their
state-of-the-art automobiles. Today, Soweto and Orlando are full of the
‘waBenzis', the new black aristocrats, so called because of their taste for
expensive cars like the Mercedes Benz.
And the journey proceeded...
At a corner shop in Dube, Soweto, is a one-storey building. The ground floor
accommodates a butcher while a surgeon opens shop on top. Such a scenario would
not escape Kenny's wandering eyes. "What a combination!", he
exclaimed as he pointed out the unusual bedfellows to his audience. "The
butcher and the surgeon can always assist each other. Can't they?"
Everybody was too busy laughing to give a coherent response. But Kenny's jokes
have not in any way beclouded the fact that many South Africans take pride in
self-employment and going places with new ideas. Many have picked up the
gauntlet to be truly independent by setting up small businesses. For example,
two sisters are said to have come up with the idea of setting up, some
kilometres north of Johannesburg, a health clinic called the Mangwanani Spa for
women and by women alone. It is reputed to be one of the best in the country.
This is seen by fellow South Africans as a shining example of black women
empowerment.
So, jokes apart, what could
Kenny, himself, have been doing in the new Soweto other than being a tour
guide? A tie-wearing Johnny-just-come entrepreneur with a mission of beating Nigeria’s
Ali Baba or America’s Bill Cosby hands down at his game in Soweto? Simple. He
pointed to a veterinary clinic across the street and said his original plan was
to open a Chinese restaurant opposite the clinic but all efforts had proved
abortive so far because the veterinary people felt their dogs would no longer
be safe with his presence nearby. Why? "They thought all their dogs and
reptiles would disappear into my soup pots." You can't just beat Kenny.
Then, the mother of all revelations, or so it seems. A sports centre donated by
Evander Holyfield, former world heavyweight boxing champion, for the Soweto
youths, was the centre of attraction when Kenny went down memory lane again
talking about great Americans who had visited Soweto. He mentioned Sugar Ray
Leonard, Rev. Jesse Jackson and former President Bill Clinton as the three he
admires most. The first, apparently for donating his championship belt to ' the
Madiba, Nelson Mandela, which is now one of the prime objects adorning the
Mandela family museum at the Vilakazi-Ngakane corner In Orlando West, Soweto.
The second for his height. “The man is so tall that I had to look for a podium
to stand on in order to shake his hands when he visited Soweto.” And how about
Clinton? Wait for this. “I love him for his dexterity on musical instruments,
especially the SEXophone.” Everybody burst into a rancorous laughter. Lucky
guy. Hillary was not on the bus. Nor was Monica.
If there is madness in
Kenny's wit, at least there is method in it. He is cerebral, current, conscious
of his socio-political milieu, quick to the draw with his jokes and something,
undeniably of a phenomenal version of Nigeria's Ali Baba. He takes pride in
showcasing the Soweto of his dream. He will readily point to a new school and
talk about the importance of investing in education. “We now educate our
children so that we don't have to build more prisons in future.” That's vintage
Kenny leaving some food for thought for African leaders.
This
travelogue was first published in TELL, February 7, 2005, under the title: Step
Out, Kenny, the Ali Baba of Soweto
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Birthday - When “Queen Elizabeth” Marked Her 70th Birthday
“You can dance, you can live/ Having the time of your
life/ Ooh see that girl, watch that scene/ Digging’ the dancing queen...”
The birthday woman
was everything in “Dancing Queen,” that great song of ABBA, the sensational
Swedish group that took the music world by storm in the 1970s. A lover of
songs, a great dancer and a lady fondly called “queen” by fellow student nurses
in the 1960s, not only by virtue of her being pretty but also by having many
things unusually common with the reigning Queen of England. She bears Elizabeth
like the queen, both share the same birthday, April 21 (she was born April 21,
1943 while the queen, her namesake, was born April 21, 1926). Again both were
born on the same weekday, Wednesday! Still they seem to have a common passion
for music. One of the queen’s hobbies is dancing. So is her fairy tale alter
ego.
Elizabeth Ayodele Oderinde, retired nurse and Iyalode
Ijo of St. Mary’s Catholic Church, Ayetoro, Osogbo, was indeed a dancing
queen on December 21, 2013 as she belatedly, due to what family sources
described as unforeseen circumstances, marked her 70th birthday. She regaled
her audience with fanciful dance steps and a flamboyant display of joy at
reaching the remarkable 70th milestone after such a long walk in life.
Tagged a
celebration of “God’s Goodness,” the two-part event was an opportunity to go
down memory lane. An offspring of migrant workers who literally traversed the
length and breadth of the old Western Region in search of greener pasture,
little Ayodele was born in Gbongan and had her primary and post-primary
education in Agege, Lagos, Otan Ayegbaju (her hometown), Ile Ife, and
wherever the call of duty took her parents. She later enrolled at the Sacred Heart
Hospital, Abeokuta, for a course in midwifery and another in general nursing
qualifying as a state registered nurse. She started work as a midwife at the
Igbaye Maternity Centre, Igbaye, near Inisha in present day Osun State before
crossing over to the popular Jaleyemi (Our Lady of Fatimah) Hospital, Osogbo.
She eventually retired as a senior matron in 2000 having earlier transferred
her service to the state’s ministry of health in 1977…
Inside the St.
Benedict’s Cathedral Church hall, Popo, Osogbo, venue of the reception, the
bandstand had a busy day beating the drums and singing songs of praise in high
decibels. The celebrant could not help displaying some few more dance steps to
the admiration of her husband, a retired principal, children and grandchildren
in tow. Other relations, guests, former colleagues and teeming well-wishers did
not miss out on the spectacle. Like in ABBA’s song they watched the scene, saw
and clapped all the way, “diggin” the dancing queen. It was happy time and she
had the fun of her life.
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