OBAMA'S BUDWEISER'S DIPLOMACY

Something is brewing in America.
What's that?
Beer.
Beer?! You must be joking.
I mean it. President Obama has ordered a beer get-together with Cow and Gates.
Cow and Gates? I guess you mean Officer Cowley and Professor Gates.
You get it! Obama wants to settle the racial palaver over a Budweiser six-pack.
I like that. Can he invite me?
No, you haven't arrested somebody unjustly of late neither have you accused somebody unjustly.
So I need to do that?
Sure, another police officer has just abused the black race claiming if he were the officer unjustly accused by a banana-eating monkey he would have sprayed him with pepper.
What's Obama going to do about that?
He will probably order another six-pack to ease the brewing tension.
I guess at the rate racial tension is rearing its ugly head in the Obama era and the way he has chosen to tackle the very volatile issue America may soon run out of beer.
That will be good for the Nigerian breweries. But on a serious note, these oyinbo people na wah for them.
Why do you say that?
Upon all these things Martin Luther King Jr talked that we should not be judged by the colour of our skin but by the content of our heart and brain these albinos still have it in theit brains that we are banana eating monkeys. na wah o!

Think, Niagara, Think

‘I want to swear by Ogun, the god of Iron, that I will check out when the umpire says “last card, Andrew!” I am a man of honour. I have done it before. I will do it again. Last night, I told my wife: “let’s do it again” and she agreed’



Fellow countrymen and women.
Once again, I am addressing you over the national talk shop which will soon wind up its sittings and deliberations after much ado about oil and gas. As you ought to have observed, the delegates have also been at each other’s throat for the past three months over who should rule us, where the person should come from and for how long. That’s okay by my administration provided they are not thinking of kicking us out of power. In fact, that’s the essence of our coming together. We have elected to jaw-jaw rather than to war-war. That’s the essence of democracy.
However, something is disturbing my mind about the direction the talk shop is heading. It appears some delegates are more interested in sharing the national goats instead of rearing them. They want to eat where they did not cook. While our neighbours in Porto Novo, Lome and Niamey are breeding goats and rabbits for sale, we are busy planning how to slaughter ours and roast them for dinner. I think time has come for us as a people to pause and think. Think, Niagarans, think.

So far, I have not been impressed by the happenings in the talk shop. The delegates appear to be more interested in laying emphasis on those things that tend to divide us rather than focusing on those that unite us. My own conclusion as of today, judging by the utterances and actions of delegates, is that we are more divided than ever before. Civilians do not want to do business with military leaders (I hope that does not include me). At the same time, Christians and Muslims are almost on the ready to draw daggers and pistols to slaughter each other as usual. The older generation does not see eye to eye with the indomie, spaghetti generation, just as the political equation in the country has been reduced to a mere north-south dichotomy.

When delegates are talking about north and south all the time, I am more curious than amused because it shows the level of ignorance and tolerance of the protagonists. Every day what we hear is rotational presidency between north and south. I am surprised that nobody has ever stood up to propose an alternative east-west rotation formula. If the north and south cannot agree on how to go about this allocation formula while not try it between east and west? Or are east and west no longer parts of the cardinal points?

But if I may ask, why is the issue of presidency a do-or-die affair? Why does everybody want to become president? Somebody jokingly told me the other day why this is so. He said the president of this country holds both the knife and the yam. And I asked the fellow, is the president’s job that of peeling the yam for dinner alone? If this is funny to you, it is not funny to me. Why can’t the president hold both the shovel and the digger? The country deserves a president who wants to serve selflessly with hard labour like a condemned prisoner. A person who will always be thinking, breathing and acting Niagara. The country is tired of an opportunist who wants executive power to loot, to allocate, to relocate, to execute, to kill extrajudicially, to cheat, to defraud, to immunise, to transfuse, to siphon, to bunker, to launder and to rob banks in broad daylight in the name of security. From what I have seen so far, there is not much of altruistic intentions in those clamouring for the wheel of fortune to spin in their direction. Every Dokubo and Haruna wants to be president not because the buck stops on his table. In Niagara, it’s only the beef that stops on the president’s desk; fall guys take care of the rest. Niagara is too big for any riff-raff to want to lead. Security reports have indicated to us that most of those aspiring to lead this country two years from now cannot come to equity with their soiled hands. 419 crooks, treasury looters, money launderers, certificate forgers and certified assassins are said to be on the prowl.

Fellow Niagarans, nobody should misconstrue what I have just said as an indication of intent not to vacate Asshole. Let me be categorical about the fact that Asshole is vacant at the expiration of my tenancy but it is surely not for sale for all these pretenders. It is true that some do-gooders are tempting me to overstay my welcome but as a gentleman and (ex)officer of one of the most disciplined armed forces in the world (disregard Abasha’s dent), I want to swear by Ogun, the god of Iron, that I will check out when the umpire says “last card, Andrew!” I am a man of honour. I have done it before. I will do it again. Last night, I told my wife: “let’s do it again” and she agreed. What else do I want?

Unfortunately, however, there are too many rats in the system waiting for the cat to retire so that they can lick the pot of soup dry. Left to such opportunists, the debt relief is a non-event since they seem to have nothing to gain personally. To them, Betham’s philosophy is an anomaly. The greatest good for the greatest number can only do damage to their entrenched class system. Egalitarianism has no place in such people’s dictionary. And this is why I pity the suffering people of the riverine areas. All the agitations for equitable cake sharing and enhanced derivation formula may come to nought because of the greed of the leaders and elders to whom a common voice is an anathema. Everybody wants to wear turbans like the Talibans, put on bowler hats like the old colonial masters and wear abetiaja caps like Sango worshippers. With oil money in their pockets, they want to party all night long, dancing boneless dance, digging owambe and doing the Fulani maiden dance in five-star nite-clubs while the fishermen and farmers continue to languish in abject poverty.

Fellow countrymen and women, it is time for us to put our acts together. Time is running out. Adaka Boro did his own but he was overpowered in the middle of his revolution. Saro Wiwa did his own and he was judicially murdered. Yet, the struggle has not abated. Today, the Atekes, the Dokubos and their angry comrades are roaming the creeks ready to pull the trigger to avenge the deaths of their revolutionary icons if justice is not done.

So, please, let’s keep talking. It’s better than fighting. Let’s jaw-jaw, it’s better than to war-war. May God bless you all.

First published July 25, 2005.

Judgment Day for Everyman

By Obotunde IJIMERE

‘Money does not prevent a man from becoming a fool.
Money does not prevent a man from becoming mad.
The red feather is the pride of the parrot.
The young leaf is the pride of the palm-tree.
The sun is the pride of heaven:
But wisdom — not money — is the pride of man!’

Olodumare (God)
Owner of the world
In the kingdom where the sun goes to rest
You sit on your throne.
You hold us in your hand
And we weigh lightly.
You only decide
Whether we may return
To challenge fate once more
On earth
Or whether — our characters beyond repair —
We’ll be condemned to the heaven of potsherds
Never to return,
Never to try again.

Truly, I am tired of the children of the world.
Their origin in heaven they forget —
Living worse than beasts.
I gave them eyes — they refuse to see.
I gave them ears — they refuse to hear.
I gave them brains — they refuse to remember.
Look at Everyman (Eda) enjoying his wealth.
He has children, he has houses, he has lorries:
And his money increases and has children;
And his money multiplies and has grandchildren.
But he forgets.
‘Money does not prevent a man from becoming a fool.
Money does not prevent a man from becoming mad.
The red feather is the pride of the parrot.
The young leaf is the pride of the palm-tree.
The sun is the pride of heaven:
But wisdom — not money — is the pride of man!’
Everyman treats money like his God:
He sacrifices his wisdom, he sacrifices his friendship,
He sacrifices his compassion;
He sacrifices every virtue to money.
He has forgotten that day in heaven
When, fifty years ago, he knelt before my throne
To receive his fate.
Then Everyman prayed for money — and his request was granted,
For he said:
Money shall be my tool to do great works:
Money shall be my bricks and my cement;
Money shall be my spade and my hoe;
Money shall be my slave — to work
For the improvement of my town!
Now I am tired of Everyman,
For he broke his promise,
He uses money to destroy — not to build.
Instead of building his town — he rules it…
Instead of helping his people — he buys them.
Instead of sharing his wealth — he hoards it.
Therefore, I have decided
A sudden judgment day I will hold
And deal with Everyman according to his merit.
Iku! Iku! (Death! Death!)

My Lord!
Owner of the sun, owner of the sky, owner of the world
Nobody knows your father,
The liars are only lying;
Nobody knows your mother,
The liars are only lying.

Iku,
You the most faithful of all my servants!
Go you to Everyman with my urgent message:
He must set out on a pilgrimage at once
Today, this very hour, do I want to see him
Before my throne.
Without delay he must appear
And let him bring his book of accounts.

My Lord,
I shall run through the whole world
And I will visit all those who do not
Know your laws, I will find them in every
Nook and cranny of the world, those
Who have forgotten their promises
Made before they were born!
And I shall strike them suddenly
And hard; and their eyes will break
And their knees collapse, and their blood
Will curdle. And without delay,
They must set out on their pilgrimage.

Judgement Day for Everyman is an extract from Everyman, one of the plays in The Imprisonment of Obatala and Other Plays by ‘Obotunde Ijimere’ a.k.a Ulli Beier, Heinemann, 1966.

Ssh! Megida Is Resting!!

We are starting Vox POPilogue this week with two reactions to the previous Vox POPilogue. Open the door for Mike Epue and Diana Omars, both of Warri, Delta State. Epue first.

Thank you. Vox POPilogue of June 22, 2009 (Baba Na Boy?) refers. Your versatility cuts across the mundane to the didactic such that it is infectious. Aha, from aboniki to bonga fish bone to dominus vobiscum! Na wah for you!

Et tu Epue? Na wah for you, too. I wonder why you've chosen to join those who tempt me with a swollen head that has the potential of making me fall like Humpty-Dumpty if care is not taken. Well, it's all in a day's job. But those whose palm kernels are cracked for them by a benevolent spirit should never forget to be humble. Please, don't tell Chinua Achebe that I stole his proverb lest you are charged along with being an accessory after the fact of copyright infringement — or, worse still, plagiarism!

Opilogue, I hail o! I hear say somebody talk am say dem fit beat you up because of Opilogue. Nobody fit touch you. Abi dem no know say Opilogue get many followers like me who go go to the court wey dey for The Hague to fight because of you? Abi dem think say Opilogue na Bakassi? Make dem be careful o.

Thanks, Dianna, Princess of Wales, sorry, Warri. I don do my own security research. We get am for incantation for inside Bible, like this: "Nobody dares raise an arm to beat yinmin yinmin (dung beetle - an insect that removes dung by rolling it and in the process covering itself up with faeces)... When a child carries firewood infested with termites and poisonous insects, he hurriedly throws them away. The day an angry Adam sees an Eve in the Garden of Eden, that's the day he will forget all his unromantic, evil machinations". Did you ask whether this holy incantation can be found in the old or new testament? Don't ask me. Ask Brother Ikumapayi, my late Sunday school teacher.

By the way, is comedy one of the criteria for studying journalism? You always make my week after reading Opilogue. Blessing A, Port Harcourt.

No, but a small dose of humour does no harm to the nation's BP (blood pressure).

Some people may be thrilled about the way you displayed and presented the conversation between the creek militant and the expartriate oil worker (re: Waiting for Our Own Moses, TELL, June 8, 2009) but what touched me most was the picture of the wretched house and its occupants. I sincerely share in the grief of the Niger Deltans. Akpa Jude Osita, Enugu.

We all have no choice but to pity the 'overmidwifed' goose that lays the golden eggs that fill our foreign exchange basket to the brim.

I must thank you for showing the world what the Niger Delta really looks like. The bungalow in the picture looks like the palace of the king of my village built 700 years ago. John Iyagbaye, Ayobo, Lagos.

You can keep a photocopy of that picture as a memento of man's inhumanity to man right under his own roof..

Re: Crucifixion of the Faithful, TELL, June 1, 2009. There is what is called epikai in Moral Theology. Abortion is the worst crime against humanity. If Christ said that we should allow little children to come to Him, it can only be done if we allow them to be born and not aborted. This is my own opilogue territory. Don't trespass! Rev. Fr. U S Mbonu, Orlu.

Thou sayest.

Your message in Come and See What Ekiti Did to Mama, TELL, May 11, 2009, brings to the fore the kind of democracy and politicians we have in this country. Owa John Chuks, Port Harcourt.

Thank God, you didn't say more than that. I had thought you were going to say that we are all living in a fools' paradise.

Let me say this: The title for that Opilogue was supposed to be "Come and See What Mama Did to Ekiti" and not "Come and See What Ekiti Did to Mama". In fact, she should be given a Ph.D in Confusion. She was able to confuse even the PDP. Oyinloye Kehinde, Tede, Oyo State.

Ph.D Confusion? The more you look, the less you see. The irony of it all is that while we are all shouting ourselves hoarse here and suffering from political insomnia, Mama is reported to be enjoying her conscience and sleeping cooooolehhh...on Anglofoam (or is it Vitafoam?) mattress in obodo oyibo. Do not say I told you.

Re: Slow Down. Reluctant Leaders at Work, TELL, June 15, 2009. Please tell Megida to proceed to the White House to find out what stuff a born-to-run leader like Obama is made of. Ayo Ademuyiwa, Ode Omu, Osun State.

Please have mercy on Megida. The engine is willing but the chasis is weak. He is just too fragile for the cut-throat, fast-food politics of this country. Yes, he may have the gun but he doesn't have the energy to pull the trigger. So, let him be. Do not kill him with excessive speed.

Indeed, speed kills! No wonder our present leader is yet to declare a state of emergency in the power sector after two years of making such a promise. He has forgotten that he promised to do so in the first 100 days of his administration. Please remind him that God said "let there be light" and there was light. Rev. U Wilson, Sabongida Ora, Edo State.

Eh! Softly, softly. Megida is not God. Moreover, electricity is not something you play with with wet hands. He is already having cold sweat over the myriad of problems confronting the country. So let him take his time until the Second Coming when he must have become a born-again Megida.

No, slow and steady don't win races anymore. Tina Amadi, Lagos.

You may be right. Even the tortoise has changed tactics! The man in question may kuku (just) put the nation's vehicle in reverse gear. Afterall, if he doesn't know where he is taking us, at least he should be able to take us back to the very bus stop where he picked us in 2007. And that may be even great progress from where we are now.

Thanks for the down-to-earth analysis of our problems. It's either reluctant persons or criminals in power. Pastor O. Shingyu (no address).

P-a-a-s-t-o-r! Okay, let's pray. "God, give us men with vision and mission to lead us out of this Babylon to the Promised Land not full of oil and gas but full of great minds who can think of squeezing something out of nothing like the Japanese and the Singaporeans". Pastor, I can't hear you say 'Amen'. Abi you dey vex true, true?

It's proof that we've never had it good in terms of leaders. A disheartening situation, indeed. Kris Omotosho, Abeokuta.

Cry, the beloved country...Shhh, Alan Paton must not hear that in his grave. It has become a "redundant cliche" even in South Africa, the land of Rev. Khumalo.

I must commend your Opilogues. They are addictive. I even looked up your blog. It's great. Carry go. Engr. Obinna, Aba.

Carry go ke? I think it's you who should carry the blog and go spread the gospel like the man below.

I saw your picture on the internet the other day. At least I now know the Ogboju Ode Ninu Igbo Irunmole (Brave hunter in the forest of a thousand demons). Omotayo Taofiq, Ilorin.

The person you saw in that picture cannot kill a dead rat not to talk of a living tiger. Wherein lies his (ogboju) bravery? By the way, are you really sure it's me you saw? I just hope this is not another case of optical illusion, for illusions, optical and all, are the order of the day in Niagara!!

God, the Ultimate Herbalist

Welcome to Yem-Ket International School of Catering. It is my pleasure to introduce to you our special guest lecturer for today in the person of Dr. Gubilyn Ogunbenah of the Herbs Forever International, Idi Ayunre, Ibadan. He has been kind enough to accept to talk to us on God’s healing powers unknown to man. I hope you enjoy him. Over to Dr. Ogunbenah.

Thank you, Mrs MD. Indeed, I’m quite delighted to be here today to share my thoughts with the students of this famous school, some of whom will later grow to be successful housewives and caterers. I can see that they are all promising and cheerful and, permit me to say this, that they are very marketable because as the Yoruba say, olobe lo loko. (It is the woman who knows how to cook that gains an inroad into a man’s heart.) I, therefore, congratulate all of you for making the wise decision to learn how to cook and feed mankind with your culinary expertise. This brings me to the topic of today’s lecture: COOKING IN GOD’S OWN KITCHEN. The talk is aimed at showing you that God is the greatest provider of the foods we cook and the ingredients we use. In the Garden of Eden, God made everything easy for mankind but He knows we are men of little faith who are given to scepticism. Today I implore you to throw away your books on scepticism and follow me straight into Eden to see what God has provided for us in His orchard. He has made sure that He has a fool-proof method of showing us what food helps what part of the body so that scientists and philosophers do not confuse us when we want to choose from His divine bowl of possibilities. God has deliberately designed certain foods for us in such a way that we do not need a soothsayer or interpreter to tell us what parts of the body will benefit most from such items. He leaves a clue for us by the shape of many a plant or fruit or tuber. Here we go.

Slide 1. Yes, as you can see in the picture, a horse is eating carrot. Look critically at the sliced pieces on the horseman’s kitchen table. A sliced carrot looks like a part of the human anatomy. The pupil, iris and radiating lines look just like the human eye. Now, science has shown that carrots greatly enhance blood flow to and function of the eyes. No wonder the horse takes carrot to sharpen its vision! Think about that. Next.

Slide 2. Again, this is another sliced fruit. It has four chambers and is red. The heart too has four chambers and is red. Can you imagine? Modern research has shown that tomatoes are loaded with what scientists call lycopine and are indeed pure heart and blood food. Next, please.

Slide 3. Yes... that’s walnut. A walnut looks like the brain. It has a left and right hemisphere, upper cerebrums and cerebellums. The wrinkles or folds on the nut are just like the neo-cortex. The whole world now knows that walnuts help develop more than three dozen neuron-transmitters for brain function.

Slide 4. These are kidney beans. They are so called because they resemble human kidneys and... Can you believe this? They actually help maintain kidney function. Next!

Slide 5. My God! This is amazing!! Look at the avocados, the eggplants and pears. Don’t they look like the womb and cervix of the female? And can you believe it that God has deliberately targeted these fruits to assist in the health and function of these organs? Today’s research has shown that when a woman eats one avocado a week, it balances her hormone system, sheds unwanted birth weight and prevents cervical cancer.Related slide, please.

Slide 6. Hmmm...wait a minute. Well...go on. As you can see in this picture, these are figs. They are full seeds and hang in twos when they grow. Figs increase the mobility of male ....emmm....male....emmm...emm....

Dr. Ogunbenah, what’s the problem?

I just don’t know how to say it in front of these young girls…

This is an adult class. Say it and let the fundamentalists be damned.

Thank you, Mrs MD, for giving the go-ahead. I guess there’s a way out. I mean figs increase the mobility of male’s “swimming tadpoles” and increase their numbers as well to overcome male sterility. Meaning that God really wants Adam and Eve to multiply in the Garden of Eden.... Actually, I had wanted the technician to zoom in on another slide which is the one showing oranges, grapefruits and ... so, next.

Slide 7. Yaah! These are what I have just talked about. Oranges, grapefruits and other citrus fruits look just like the mammary glands of the female and they actually assist the health of their human counterparts and the movement of lymph in and out of them. I can hear some murmurings. God’s pharmaceutical ingenuity is amazing! It’s awesome!! Next, please.

Slide 8. These are onions and they look like the body’s cells. Research has revealed that onions help clear waste materials from all the body cells. They even produce tears which wash the epithelia layers of the eyes. A working companion, garlic, also helps eliminate waste materials and dangerous free radicals from the body. All these free gifts from God are best and much stronger when eaten raw but it’s not possible to have them raw all the time. Hence we need to cook some, process others and add natural preservatives to make them last long on the shelf. You have the potential of being the greatest cooks in the land but God is the ultimate nutritionist and herbalist. He prescribes fruits and herbs for man to use and we all scramble to worship at His divine feet to bring succour to the hungry, the sick and the afflicted. No food is a waste. So, anytime you go abroad and they serve you this their variety of green foods, gulp them down like a hungry mendicant. Each knows what to do in your body. The oyinbo man knows this but we deride them out of ignorance or lack of a strong food culture. At least, at the end of this pep talk, we shall all see why garri in the morning, fufu in the afternoon and pounded yam at night with bush meat cannot help our body other than giving us Olumo (rock) tummies.

First published April 13, 2009.

I Don’t Want No Peace

Peter Tosh

‘A peaceful society will sing about emotional things like love, romance and sex but a society at war, even with itself, will sing about chivalry, martyrdom, hunger, deprivation redemption and salvation’



“I know I can be what I wanna be if I work hard at it, I’ll be where I wanna be. I know I can …”

Daddy! You are singing our song. Do you like it?

Of course, I like it. If I don’t, I will not be singing it.

What do you like about it?

Just listen to me. “I know I can/Be what I wanna be/If I work hard at it/I’ll be where I wanna be.”

Daddy, you are only repeating the chorus. Can’t you sing what Nas, himself, sings?

Nas ke? Was Wada Nas a singer? I thought he was just an executive noise maker.

Daaddy! Nas is the name of the rapper, not Wada Nas.

Oh, I see. That’s my problem. I love the song, the rhythm and the lyrics but I don’t know who the singer is. The man is just twisting his tongue and I can’t really make head or tail of what he is saying.

Okay, dad. Let me sing it with our mahogany accent and you will understand it.

Thank you, my son. Now, 4 … 3 … 2 … 1… Go!

Be, B-Boys and girls, listen up

You can be anything in the world, in God we trust
An architect, doctor, maybe an actress
But nothing comes easy, it takes much practice
Like, I met a woman who’s becoming a star
She was very beautiful, leaving people in awe
Singing songs, Lina Horn, but the younger version
Hung with the wrong person
Got her strung on that heroin
Cocaine sniffing up drugs all in her nose…
Coulda died, so young, now looks ugly and old
No fun cause now when she reaches for hugs
People hold their breath
Cause she smells of corrosion and death.
Watch the company you keep and the crowd you bring
Cause they came to do drugs and you came to sing
So, if you gonna be the best, I’ma tell you how,
Put your hands in the air, and take a vow…” Daddy sing the chorus now.

Okay, sony. “I know I can / Be what I wanna be / If I work hard at it, I’ll be where I wanna be.” Sony, this is the best song I have heard in recent times. It is so inspiring and soul-lifting. Can you imagine the effect of the lyrics on small children who listen to it? It reminds me of James Brown in those days. He, too, had a popular song like that. He would shout, “Say’t loud!” and some children in the background would respond, “I’m black ‘n’ proud!”. That time we did not understand what he was saying. Dauda, my Oluyole friend, thought he knew. One day he came to our place and immediately he heard James Brown, he just jumped up shouting “Gbenla!”

“Isale Afaa!” “Gbenla!” “Isale Afaa!” Everybody burst into laughter.

Why do you consider Nas’ song so inspiring, dad?

It’s because of its content. So educating, so didactic, so meaningful. If I were the education minister, I’d order that it should be played in every secondary school during the morning devotion. The film, Eewo-Taboo, by Ladi Ladebo, should also be shown free to each school to fight drug addiction.

Daddy, you are behind times. What we guys listen to nowadays are funky lyrics like those of Betty Wright, Britney Spears, Alicia Keys, Celine Dion, Jennifer Lopez, 50 Cent, One Dollas and other sexy musicians, even Madonna before she zipped up.

I don’t blame you and your indomie generation. You can’t live outside your socio-cultural milieu. A peaceful society will sing about emotional things like love, romance and sex but a society at war, even with itself, will sing about chilvary, martyrdom, hunger, deprivation, redemption and salvation. Their literature will be literature of protest. Words will be their grenades while their symbols will be laden with nuclear warheads. Those were the days when Bob Marley would sing revolutionary songs and shake the hearts of big men in the United Nations. 'Rat Race', 'Rivers of Babylon' and 'I Shot the Sheriff 'are some of his evergreen revolutionary songs that continue to drop anchor in our memory.

But, daddy, we also have Lagbaja and Femi and Seun and Alariwo and Dede and Sina and young Baba Rolling Dollar and Bright Chimezie and Zacky Zacky and Funky Malam and Oliver the Cock(?) and what-else?

All of them combined do not have the revolutionary zeal of a Fela Anikulapo-Kuti. Who among those you have mentioned can sing songs like 'Unknown Soldier', 'Beast of No Nation', 'Zombie', 'Shuffering and Shmiling', 'Alagbon', 'Army Arrangement' and 'Overtake Don Overtake Overtake'? Tell me, who among them can look Baba in the face and sing ‘soja go, soja come’ with the ‘jooro jaara jooro’ tune? Who among them can sing to effect a societal change like Fela did? Or who can cry out for justice among them like Peter Tosh, the late Jamaican reggae star?

But, Daddy, Lagbaja is cooool! Idris is ….waoh! Ten-Face is… fascinating. Tetula is super… bad! Femi is bang, bang, bang! By the way, daddy, sing for me that reggae song which you like so much. I think it’s by Jimmy Cliff.
No, it’s Peter Tosh. Here we go, 4….3….2….1…0 Everybody is crying out for peace / Nobody is crying out for justice. / I don’t want no peace / All I need is equal rights and justice.

Daddy, I’m always confused with this song. Why does he say he doesn’t want no peace? He says he wants only equal rights and justice. Is that enough?

Don’t be confused. What he is saying is that justice and equal rights are a sine qua non for peace. In other words, he is saying that justice, fairness, equal rights and equal opportunities are unnegotiable conditions for humanity. Once you have them, all other things, including peace, will follow.

I see. Don’t we have equal rights and justice in every country?

Peter Tosh knew what he was talking about when he sang that song. But one thing about our own country is that there are separate laws for the ruling and the rich, on one hand, and another set of rules for the ruled and the wretched, on the other. That’s what Tosh preached against. And that’s music, my son, music in its functional elements! Not the kpangolo noise you call music.

First published March 21, 2005.

Alarum Bell

ALARUM BELL IS RINGING

Have you heard the news?
What news?
That the MEND people have started "mending" Lagos?
How do you mean?
Don't tell me you are not aware that the Niagaran foremost fuel depot has been bombed...
Na lie! You mean the Atlas Cove Jetty has been bombed?
Sit down there!
But this na wah o!
What's na wah about it?
It appears you are not a student of history.
Yarn me tory.
Well, that's how the Niagara-Biafra war escalated in 1967 when the Biafrans bombed Lagos.
You don't meant. Do you?
Well, I've just told you. If you like, make you hear. If you like make you no hear. But as they talk am for proverb...A word is enough for the wise.
That mean say you don ring alarm bell be that. No be so?
Me I don do my own. Do not say I told you.
Do not say I heard you.

DROP DEAD TODAY, WRITE YOUR WILL TOMORROW

Welcome to lunchtime class. As usual we are going to discuss contemporary issues over snacks and drinks. I am sure you are all aware of the passing away of Wacko Jacko, the King of Pop. A lot has been written and said about him in the papers, on radio and television. You must have heard of his humble beginning in Indiana, USA, his meteoric rise to fame, his choreographic artistry, his lyrical ballads and his infantile idiosyncrasies. You must also have heard something about his controversial nuclear family made up of him, a black man, three white children and two absentee white mothers, as well as his extended Jackson family. He was a superstar among stars. Remember the Jackson 5 and their contributions to Motown, Janet Jackson, the musician and (deliberate) victim of a wardrobe malfunction on stage, Latoya Jackson, the equally talented singer and Playboy Centerfold Celebrity and others who took the center stage too during his time. He was a huge success but so humble was he that he remained true to his Christian calling as a Jehovah witness. He never allowed success to take the better part of his brain and lead him astray like the Beatles who were so popular in the 1960s that one of them boasted they were more popular than Jesus!!

More popular than Jesus?!! That's sacrilege unplugged, sir. Thank God they didn't say they were more popular than Mohammed. We would probably still be engaged in World War III by now. But I'm sure they couldn't have been more popular than Michael Jackson. Yet he remained humble.

Actually that's one of the things to learn from Wacko's death. Can you think of other lessons?

Yes, sir. It shows that everybody is born with a talent and we should discover such talent and develop it like Ebenezer Obey once sang.

True. As early as five, Michael had shown signs of the monstrous vocal talent in him. He would face the mirror and sing all the popular songs of his clime and time.. He would also watch television and learn dance steps from the great dance masters like James Brown and Sammie Davies Jnr. The father noticed all these in his son and encouraged him to express himself the way God had made him. He became his mentor, teacher and choreographer, all rolled in one. But Joe was a stern teacher, tougher than Lucifer. When his words did not sink into his son's brain he used the whip, like a syringe, to inject them thereby driving him so hard to achieve the greatness already written large on his genetic map. The lesson here is obvious. Your parents should encourage you to make use of the gifts God has endowed you with. If a child is caught out to be an actor or a singer he will never be fulfilled as a banker or engineer until he has given expression to his inner calling. Is there any other thing you have learnt from the life and times of Michael?

Excuse me, sir. But I heard he did not like his father who helped him utilise his talent as much as he liked his mother.

Good observation. It is very natural for children to love their mothers more than their fathers because the first person a child knows is the mother. She is the 'hotel' where it resides for nine months while waiting to come to the world. When he checks out he enters the larger world still connected to the mother through the umbilical chord. Its first taste of liquid food is through the mother. So why wont a child love the mother more than it loves the father? But that's just by the way. Joe, Michael Jackson's father, seemed to have overdone his slave driving because of his excessive greed for money to the extent that he unwittingly denied Michael his childhood. He was too preoccupied with using his son to make money to remember to give little Michael space.

I see! That may be true. I saw him on television the very day Michael died talking about a new company he had just set up when he was supposed to be mourning his lost son.
That's the ultimate of greed and insensitivity on the part of a bereaved father and there is a literary allusion to that in that 16th century Shakespeare’s play, The Merchant of Venice. Do you know that when Shylock's daughter, Jessica, ran away from home all her father was shouting was "My daughter, my ducats (money)! O my daughter! O my ducats!" It was really appalling for Joe to be talking about his business (money) at the time the whole world was mourning his son's death.

Sir, may be he had some inkling that he had been left out of his son's will and wanted to seize the opportunity to advertise his business.

I think one important lesson that has come out of what you have just said is the fact that Michael had a will.. This is somebody who died at 50 and yet he had written his will when he was barely 42. I doubt if there are many men in Africa who do that. All we hear after somebody has died at the age of 60 or 70 or more is that he has died intestate, meaning he has died without leaving a will. And what follows is always a moral equivalent of World War II.

That's true, sir. I know of one alhaji in our town who died at 54 without a will. Immediately he was buried katakata just burst for inside his home. Come and see how Mama Silifatu dey fight Mama Suwebatu and Iyawo Kekere was pulling the leg of Iyawo Agba, Mama Shakiratu, over who would inherit the matrimonial bed! Sir, it was real Fuji House of Commotion. The children too were at each other's throat over their father's legacy. No peace, no rest until they dragged themselves to the magistrate court.

Why did you revert to pidgin? Anyway that's a lesson for all men. Write your will today before you drop dead tomorrow. Don't think that's a morbid thought. If Michael Jackson could do that while he was 42 what stops even successful 30-year-old businessmen and legislators to do same. Don't ask me if I have written mine. Nobody boasts about town that he has written his will. It is like akara Iya Imanu (Emman's mother's bean cake), only Iya Imanu (Emman's mother) knows the secret of its makeup.

Hmm, that's oro ijinle, sir.

Meaning what?

Meaning eni ko, ko mo; eni mo, ko ko...

Stop speaking in strange tongues without translation or interpretation. Are you a pastor?

Okay, let me interpret myself. I mean it takes only the initiated to decipher what you have just said about Iya Imanu's bean cake. But, excuse me sir, is it only men that should write their wills? How about women?

In traditional African setting women are counted as part of their husbands' property, which means they can even be willed out to already salivating Pavlov's male dog relations of the deceased and...

No, sir. I disagree totally and unequivocally. I'm nobody's property and will never be...

Sorry to interrupt you. You know this 100 level General Studies class is very large. I don't know every student. Please can you identify yourself?

I'm Iyabo Aktivis. I'm a Political Science student. As I was saying, sir, no man, and I repeat, no man can claim me as one of his property. It is an archaic, unjust and gender discriminating custom which should be eradicated. I know this is a common symptom of patriarchal domination in gender insensitive societies and which we, in the Gender Consciousness Movement on this campus, are fighting against. We demand equal rights and justice for womankind.

Thank you, Mrs Gender Activist. Let's go back to our Wacko Jacko lesson.

As you can see Michael Jackson is as controversial in death as he was in life. You will recall that he turned himself into a white man with the falling nose. Is there any lesson in that?
Yes, sir! We should all be proud of our colour like the great Aggrey Achimota of Ghana taught us. I remember our primary school teacher used to point to the church organ saying both the black and white keyboards work together in perfect harmony to produce great sounds, that neither the white nor the black was superior to the other. I can also remember the music of James Brown too, "Say loud! I'm black and proud!" I wonder why anybody should not be proud of his colour.

Well, you can't blame Michael solely for this. Blame those who denied him his childhood. Till he died he was a child. You know what? Though his chronological age put him at 50, his mental age was far far below that. He was only happy hanging out with children and dreaming childhood fantasies of playing with pets, teddy bears, see-saws and fondling children of same sex---characteristic of early adolescence. He never grew out of that. But on the more positive side his talent shone like a thousand stars. He broke many barriers with his brand of music. He was super good (don't mind him singing that he is bad, "I'm bad, I'm bad/You know me..."). Any particular lesson here?

Yes o! It shows that if we do good we shall for ever be remembered.

You are right but it goes further than that. You must be exceptional in your achievements. You must be seen to have contributed to the expansion of the frontiers of knowledge, leadership and entertainment. Great men like William Shakespeare, the playwright, and Alfred Tennyson, the poet, have through their works appealed to mankind to crave immortality through procreation, contributions to learning e.g. scientific discovery and writing. Procreation is the easiest and cheapest means of immortalising one’ self but celibates too are known to have attained immortality. Mother Teresa, Pope John Paul II and Father Tabansi are examples of great celibates who have been immortalized for their contributions to the development of the world. Scientists like Albert Einstein, Isaac Newton and Michael Faraday remain great immortals for their discoveries. And how about great writers like Charles Dickens, D H Lawrence, O'Neil, George Elliot, Oliver Goldsmith, Geoffrey Chaucer and a lot of poets and playwrights who have gone upstairs to join the pantheon of evergreens? Entertainers are not left out either. James Brown, Jim Reeves, Bob Marley, Fela Anikulapo-Kuti and Mariam Makeba, they all remain immortal. Michael Jackson is dead but the whole world is mourning. It shows that mankind is always grateful to those who come to this world and leave legible and positive footprints. Michael Jackson is one. And he will forever remain one. Let’s all say “adieu” to Wacko Jacko, the King of Pop.

Weep Thou Not, My People

Late Pastor Bimbo Odukoya who died in a plane crash on December 11, 2005.


“Death is so wicked. If he decides to strike … he does not ask for ‘particulars’; he does not take money”

Ladies and gentlemen, thanks for coming. Please, we shall make this wake as brief as possible so that we do not spend the whole day crying again. I know how you all feel about this tragedy and the wasting of so many flowers and gems on the tarmac of incompetence and corruption. So, if you permit me, this is not going to be a valediction of weeping. Rather, it’s going to be a literary fellowship forbidding mourning. I will now call on Magnus Ochai, SSS III student, to read the opening poem.
Thank you, sir. The title of my poem is We, the Children of Loyola:
“Tell them, tell it to them
That we the children of Ignatius are writhing in pain.
Yet, our tears cannot drop because the tear-balls are empty.
We have no mouths to say it
Because our jaws are interlocked...
Our friends took the chariot, the chariot with wings.
They say the winds cannot overturn it.
But strange things are happening in Niagara!
The chariot overturned and became a chariot of fire
That crashed on the tarmac of insensitivity…
And scattered our hopes and dreams.”
Ladies and gentlemen, that’s the prologue poem by Master Magnus Ochai. It’s my privilege and honour now to call on Femi Eleburuibon to deliver a dirge.
My own poem is titled Dirge for Bimbo and it is delivered on behalf of the Household of Fellowship:
“Bimbo, glorious woman of the Vineyard, hail!
And farewell to you, popular counsellor of Singles and Doubles.
It is goodbye, as when a stranger is seen off to the town’s gate.
Once dead and reborn, a person does not know the front of his
father’s house.
Goodbye, Bimbo. Goodbye!
The stump of the palm tree does not owe a debt to the wind.
Bimbo, who lies here, owed no personal obligation
Before she went to her creator…
Bimbo, I call you without stopping,
I call you again, won’t you please answer?
Your husband calls you five times, six times!
Your children call you seven times, eight times!
Your parents call you sixteen times!
Won’t you please answer? The congregation is also waiting…
Ah! Erin wo! Ajanaku sun bi oke! (The mighty elephant has fallen!)
Bimbo is gone! The okin of Fountain Life is no more!!
The ‘humble peacock’ is gone with all her attributes:
Beauty, brain, character and charisma… o digba. Goodbye!”
Please, please, stop crying. I say stop crying. Weep not. This valediction is not of weeping. Thank you, Eleburuibon for your moving dirge. Shall we now call on Mrs. Iyadunni Laraba Okonkwo, a parent and member of the Jesuits PTA to render her own valedictory poem.
Chief mourner, deputy mourner, all other protocols duly observed. The title of my poem is Death Is Cruel:
“Death is wicked!
If he decides to strike
No amount of entreaties can stop him.
He does not ask for ‘particulars’
He does not take money
He does not take kolanuts
He will not allow you to ‘shake body’
Ah! Death is wicked!
He kills anybody regardless of age, race, religion or sex…
See what he has just done… This death … hmmmm!
If even there were two chances to die, I would not joke with one.
Abi, tan fe ku? Who wants to die?
If you die, you will be put in a coffin.
The coffin will be nailed, everywhere will be dark.
You will be sent to the cemetery,
Put in a grave, covered with sand,
Hit by shovel and nobody will hear your cry of pain
You will be left there while they return home.
Even your family, friends and the faithfuls,
They will all abandon you to your fate.
Ah! Chineke! Death is too cruel!!”
Thank you, Mrs. Okonkwo. We shall now call on the people’s lawyer and human rights activist, Mr. Alfred Kayemo, to give us the epilogue, I mean the closing poem.
This poem is titled Drum Call to Aso Villa:
“They clink ogogoro glasses, what for?
To drink to our death?
But they don’t know
That one of them is also a victim…
I’m dizzy with wailing, O Niagara!
To what land do they journey, our brothers and sisters?
What is this land where our friends go and do not return?
He has gone forever to the earth.
He has gone to the earth that devours all,
Glutton earth, so greedy, so opportunistic!
It devoured the contents of Bellview, Sosoliso and, twice upon a time, those of ADC and EAS.
Yet, it’s still famished. / Is it turn by turn?
Morbid anatomists often prepare for the earth his meat.
Grave dentists always prepare the earth’s molars and incisors for his gory shish kebab… but who will rescue us from earth’s premature mastication?
Let us go and prick their conscience in Aso Villa:
Your Excellencies, when will this cycle of wholesale deaths stop?”

Weep Thou Not, My People is a tapestry of poetic fabrics from oral poems from Ghana, Nigeria and Zaire in Oral Poetry from Africa (1983) and Kofi Awoonor’s ‘A Dirge’ in Messages — Poems from Ghana (1971).

First published in TELL, December 26, 2005. Reproduced July 8, 2009, on the occasion of the passing away of Michael Jackson, the King of Pop.