Ibadan: Meeting the 21st Century Head-on!

Ibadan strikes me as a collage of ancient meets modernity!

Poems have described it as The Red Rusty Roof Town.

It is known as the Largest City in Africa.

Today Ibadan boosts no less then 10 radio stations and 3 TV stations! Business is good.

The presence of Palms Mall which houses Shoprite and Games simply tells you how very modern Ibadan journeyed from red rust roofs!

As far back as 1829, Ibadan has been a thriving place and by 1893 Ibadan area became a British Protectorate after a treaty signed by Fijabi, the Baale of Ibadan with the British acting Governor of Lagos, George C. Denton on 15 August.

The first university to be set up in Nigeria was the University of Ibadan. Established as a college of the University of London in 1948, and later converted into an autonomous university in 1962. It has the distinction of being one of the premier educational institutions in Africa.

• Other noteworthy institutions in the city include:
• The University College Hospital (UCH) - the first teaching hospital in Nigeria
• The internationally acclaimed International Institute of Tropical Agriculture (IITA)
• The Nigerian Institute of Social and Economic Research (NISER)
• Leadcity University, which according to my guide is a blend of the "rich notorious" Don't ask me what it means, read between the lines. 
• Also the Cocoa Research Institute of Nigeria
• The Nigerian Horticultural Research Institute (NIHORT), 
• the Institute of Agricultural Research and Training (IAR&T) 

Ibadan has an airport, Ibadan Airport, which operates daily flights to Abuja, Lagos, Kano, Ilorin e.t.c through major airlines in Nigeria such as Arik Air. The city is also served by the Ibadan railway station on the main railway line from Lagos to Kano.

Ibadan is naturally drained by four rivers with many tributaries: Ona River in the North and West; Ogbere River towards the East; Ogunpa River flowing through the city and Kudeti River in the Central part of the metropolis. Ogunpa River, a third-order stream.

A tropical wet and dry climate, Ibadan offers you the best holiday weather you'd love! It affords you the opportunity to visit landmark sites and areas such as: 

• Dugbe district, the commercial nerve centre of Ibadan as well as the Cocoa House in Dugbe, reputably Nigeria's first skyscraper.
• The museum at the building of the Institute of African Studies, and several other libraries all over Ibadan.
• The Bower Memorial 
• Home of the First Television in Africa
• 2 Zoological gardens and a botanical garden to explore.
• Oke Mapo, that is, Mapo Hill
• Trans-Wonderland amusement park, 
• The Cultural Centre, Mokola and
• The Obafemi Awolowo Stadium.

There's so much to see. The University of Ibadan alone provides you with an enchanting and soothing tour all of its own. Try it!

Don't forget to visit the Palm Malls too!

And guess what? It is only in Ibadan an ice-cream cup is sold for N1,500! Go figure. You don't believe me? 

Here's a shot of my Photo Slide Story for you to peek at. Have a great ride: 

http://ladyechannel.blogspot.com/2015/03/ibadan-poems-have-described-it-as-red.html.

https://plus.google.com/b/102488508152202926359/102488508152202926359/posts/GQ3hptHfsXG.

When You Teach A Politician How To Steal From You, This Is What Happens

Finally, the event with the Governor was over. The Commissioner and his friend a Minister of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, sat together at the Lodge drinking, a file on the table. The discussion has been going on for a while since the Civil Servant brought the files in. Both politicians listened with rapt attention.

The Civil Servant said, “Oga let me show you how to do it...”

“Really? Would this work?”

“Nobody will even know how you did it. All monies will be accounted for Sir.”

The Commissioner and Minister stole a glance at each other and smiled. They never knew it was so easy to cook the books and skim so much off the top.

“But how do you know this?” asked the minister.

“You see that Dome over there, where you both attended the Governor’s unveiling, Sir?”

“Yes. What about it?”

“It cost the government N3.6 billion on paper. But the actual cost for it was 90 times below that!”

“You don’t say?” eyes popped out into shinning globes.

“Yes Sir, it is true.”

“You see, that Publisher did not bring original new materials from overseas. Rather this was his old dome situated along the Maroco axis road, which the Lagos State Government asked him to remove because it was in the right of way of the new road expansion being carried out by the Governor of Lagos state. So the Publisher simply dismantled it, brought it down here and it was simply re-coupled here. Even now as we speak, you saw how some parts of the roof has already begun leaking. These materials are not meant for temperate regions such as ours.”

“Wow! I used to hear whiffs about this, but this is really up-close and personal.”

“Sir, let me tell you, as a matter of fact did you know that every month N1 million was set aside for it’s maintenance? Yet the reality on ground is that no maintenance of any sort is being done per say. Even though the money now has been reviewed down to N750,000. Money exchange hands, but no work is done. 

“Sir, sir, you see. At the beginning just when the dome was inaugurated, N22 million was set aside yearly for its maintenance. But only N17 million was shown to be approved. By the time it got to our knowledge, the money has reduced to N12 million on paper. And when it finally reached the Oga who did the disbursing, well you won’t believe how far the money simply dwindled.”

The Commissioner and Minister wore soured looks on their faces; their minds doing mathematical summersaults. 

The Civil Servant felt he had them exactly where he wanted them. They were hooked! So he plunged on, “Awhile back, Sir,” he said, “N17 million was approved for rain boots, umbrellas etc. in this ministry for staff. As we speak only a few umbrellas, rain boots and a dozen chairs were bought! But where’s the money? The former director who is now a speaker and one key director still in the ministry, were the ones in cahoots and today they have buildings and landed properties all over the town. Even ordinary S.As knows how this works. The one currently under my Oga at the top already has 3 cars in less than 9 months!”

“You mean a Special Adviser acquired all that within so short a time? Wat is the world coming to.”

“Oga, that’s how it works oo. It is where you work you eat from.”

“So you’re saying if we cook the books here... into the budget, it means we can get as much N5,000,000 just like many directors gets in less than a month or year?”

“Absolutely Sir! Sir, even at my level Sir, let me show you how it is done. Say for example my office Oga asked me to put up a billboard, and the sum approved for it was N500, 000; all I spend is N40,000 for the job. Once that is set aside, I give you as my Commissioner N150,000; N120,000 to my other boss and the balance left is for me to do with as I pleased. But the signboard will be there for all to see, despite that it is cheaper than the quality approved for.”

“Alright. That makes it crystal clear, doesn’t it?” teased the commissioner before he signed the budget. The deal has been struck.

But when the money was approved, the Civil Servant did not know it. What gave away his political boss was the new ride and land he suddenly bought and was building on it barely three months after their talk! And each time his boss saw him, he’ll instantly put his phone to his ear, indicating to him that he was busy.

After a few more trial, his boss began to wear a permanent scowl on his face each time he saw him. Matter of fact, it seemed his boss had told his secretary not to allow the Civil Servant access into his office!

The Civil Servant tried to weep but the tears would not come. He had shown his boss the way hoping he would have gotten a deal of the chunk but he had been sidelined, just like that!

This House Is Not For Sale: The SANCTION OF STEALING BY FAITH!

The three of them: a matured woman, a guy in his early 30s and a young man in his late 20s were laughing gaily about how long ago it was they’d seen each other last. And before long the matter had navigated into why the guys were yet to find the woman of their dreams.

“Women are just greedy these days. They don’t understand us guys!” said the dark twenty something year old guy.

“Really?” the matured woman asked.

“Yes.” chimed in the fair in complexion thirty something.

“Don’t you think you guys might be looking for what does not exists?”

“Naaa.” both guys said at once and laughed.

“For example,” said  Darky, “imagine how my best friend, just newly wedded has been paying back wedding debt! And all because he married a gal!”

“How come?” asked the bewildered woman.

“Can you imagine he earns N450,000 a month and still hasn’t paid his wedding debt even after six months?”

“Oh-oh. That’s not a good way to start marriage.” Said the matured woman.

“Women just want to empty a man’s pocket!” said Fair Man.

“And you know the most annoying part? This girl was just insulting my friend in a shouting match over his landed properties!”

“Did I not say women are greedy!” added Fair Man.

“But wait a minute, how do you mean his landed properties. Does she want the lands in her name or what? Otherwise that must be a really long throat babe he married oo!” Matured woman feigned shock.

“No, it’s not like that. She’s also my friend too. Matter of fact I brought them together. But the problem is that she’s going about saying all the landed properties her husband told her about, she’s yet to set her eyes on them.”

“Haba! What kind of talk is that? Did he tell his fiancée before they married he had lands and now after married there’s suddenly no land?” said Matured Woman.

 “You see, I understand my friend,” he said defiantly, “I knew why he told his fiancée that his mother’s land was his. He said it in faith and claimed it by faith!”

“Oh! You mean the young husband claimed that his mother’s lands were his!”

“Of course they are his! But they wife has no right questioning him, asking him: ‘Where are lands you said you have? Where are the title deeds for the land you said you owned before we married?’”

The matured woman stared long and hard at Darky.  The more they talked about the matter, the more Darky tried to help them see, even justify what was an apparent lie his friend told his fiancée, who after marriage was now beginning to ask questions.

“Thing is,” began Darky, “I don’t like how she’s disrespecting my friend by doubting and questioning him. And now she’s gone to report the matter to his mother.”

“But you know your friend lied to her!”

“That’s what girls like to hear!” jumped in Fair Man.

“But you know that is stealing. Your friend claiming something what is not his.” said Matured Woman sitting across them. Incidentally, she does not belong to any religion.

“No.” the young man replied. “It is not stealing. He was simply claiming it by Faith...You just don’t understand.

“And what did the lady’s mother-in-law say when her daughter-in-law complained to her about the inconsistencies about the land?”

“Her mother-in-law simply laughed naa and told her daughter-in-law that the land was her own and not her son’s.”

“Isn’t it clear to you as you’re narrating this story that your friend has not only lied to his fiancée in the name of Faith in God but has also stolen another person’s land by claiming it?”

“But it’s his mother’s land! And by right, like in my case, he’s the first son and is therefore entitled to the land.”

“Did you not hear what his mother said? ‘It is my land, not my son’s’?”

“Well...” he began, but sharply turned his face away frustrated at her precise logic. Then he said, 

“Does it really matter? After all, what’s his mother’s is his too.”

“From the mother’s response, it is very clear that until she formally handed the lands over to him, the land is unequivocally in her name and belongs to her.”

“But he’s the first son! And we are talking about claiming one’s inheritance ahead.”

“Until someone gives you something directly or grants you permission to own, use or have access to what’s theirs, if you ‘claim it’ or announce that it is yours, it is stealing, ho-ha!”

“What?!” 

“Haven’t you seen cases where parents change their wills? Suppose your friend’s mother changes her mind and gives the lands to someone else or even sell the land without her son knowing only for him to find out after her death that the land was never transferred to him, what amount of faith, or claiming in the Name of God will change that?”

“Well...”

“When religion sanctions and permits people to steal and call it Claiming by Faith, in the Name of God, do you see why, although Nigeria has so many religion, yet in comparison to countries full of agnostics, atheist or pagan worshippers as you call them, Nigeria is by far extremely corrupt? Look at those in political office today. Many belong to one Christian religion or Muslim faith or another. They all hold positions of authority where the rule of law ought to be enforced and honesty and ethics should be a way of life. Yet what do you see?”

“Those are not God-fearing persons!”

“So is your friend who claims a land that is not yet his and lies to his fiancée that they are his, is he God fearing?”

“Uh?”

“Exactly.”

“No, no. Wait. Those countries that do not believe in God, their riches and wealth are false riches! They don’t have true success!”

“Really? Let me get you clear,” the matured woman sat up, her demeanour one of combat. “Are you saying that someone who says let’s stop people from begging, from taking alms and empower them with skills and expertise so they can create, be productive and enjoy the sweat and money of their success, that such a person has no true success when he empowers his fellow man that way? So you mean your friend claiming an asset that is not his, has true wealth?”

“Er...Em...”

“Have you people fallen so low to the point where you delude yourself to such unbelievable extent; where you steal from Paul in faith, claim it from Peter and command it to be taken from John all in the name of ‘I have Faith this will be mine!” 

The young man shrugged his shoulders like what-did-it-matter how it’s done as long as Faith is involved. 

Then the woman said, “The other day like that a wretched man with no money in his pocket got an alert of N250,000 for doing nothing. Rather than go to the bank to explain that he was erroneously paid as this must have been a terrible error on the Teller’s part, the man went to church to make testimony! He said God had given him the money and answered his prayers to get out of poverty. 

“Three weeks after he had spent almost all the money, three persons arrived at his door. Apparently, the bank had called to tell him he had been wrongly credited, but he denied it and stopped picking up their calls (that is, unknown numbers not registered with a name on his phone). The two police men standing by the Female Banker were at his home to take him to the police station. The man begged and pleaded but they would have none of it.

“After almost a week in custody in the guardroom, he was able to pay the complete money. A few friends and family members had contributed the sum on his behalf.

“That money which the man claimed, was supposed to be been paid into a woman whose child was in hospital, and required surgery. The parents of this girl almost lost the child because the initial payment of N250,000 could not be paid immediately to begin treatment.”

“Oh.” was all Darky could utter while Fair Man stared in shocked.

“When you take what is not yours,” said Mature Woman, “even if it accidentally falls into your hands or was given to you in error, the premise that it was an error negates your right, claim or faith in saying it is yours.”

For a long time Darky remained quiet. He was sitting uncomfortably by the edge of the chair, his posture ram-rod straight, his eyes radiating disturbing clarity.

Tactfully, the woman redirected their conversation to safer grounds. Now more convinced Darky, in this very moment sees how his religion has misled and sanctioned him to believe that he could claim somebody else’s reward that was not his effort. 

POSITIVE VIBES: ATTITUDE

If you don’t want negative energy to impact on you, stop resisting it. Simply redirect your focus.

In a dark time, the eyes begin to see.

Whenever you fall, pick something up.

People will forget what you said; but they will never forget how you made them feel.

We have to let go of all the blame, all attacking, all judging, to free our inner selves to attract what we say we want.

The farther behind I live my past, the closer I am to forging my own character.

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Let it go.

Sometimes you have to let go to see if there was anything worth holding on to.

All appears to change when we change

If you let go a little, you will have a little peace. If you let go a lot, you will have a lot of peace.

Anything I cannot transform into something marvellous, I let go.

Some people think that it’s holding that makes one strong – sometimes it’s letting go. 

You don’t drown by falling in the water. You drown by staying there.

Once we accept our limits, we go beyond them.

Letting go doesn’t always mean giving up, but rather accepting that there are things that cannot be.

A man is not old until regrets take the place of his dreams.

Show me a guy who’s afraid to look back, and I’ll show you the guy you can beat every time.

Just as hostility begets more hostility, its absence brings peace. These are timeless truths.

You have to expect things of yourself before you can do them.

You can have anything you want if you are willing to give up the belief that you can’t have it.

I don’t let go of thoughts, I question them and then they let go of me.

YOUR PAST

Once you open that door, go ahead to what's ahead; do not let the thing left behind bother you no more for it would take care of itself.

Living in the past is a dull and lonely business; looking back strains the muscles, and causes you to bump into people not going your way.

If you must go down the past, then do so to learn so you can use it better today. When going into the past means recalling fond memories, by all means enjoy it and see how you can use what you gleaned to give you fonder memories today and in the future.

What’s gone – and what’s past pain – should be past grief

Hanging onto resentment is letting someone you despise live rent-free in your head.

All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on. You just need to know when to and what to.

You can’t have a better tomorrow if you are thinking about yesterday all the time; it's time to move on and embrace the best today can offer.

Never look back unless you’re planning to go that way.

Being True to yourself always is the key to action and freedom from those things that want to hold you down. 

Never be Stuck in your life! Never.

GET YOURSELF THINKING, AGAIN

A Rose is A Rose; YOU ARE WHO YOU ARE

• What you are is what you’ve always been. What you’ll be is what you do now.
• The purpose of life is a life of purpose.
• The lion is most handsome when looking for food. 
• The first step to getting the things you want out of life is this: decide what you want.
• Granted that I must die, how shall I live? 
• Let yourself be silently drawn by the pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.
• Depend not on fortune but on conduct.
• It is no profit to have learned well, if you neglect to do well.
• You’ll never plough through a field by turning it over in your mind.
• All action is of the mind and the mirror of the mind is the face, its index the eyes. 
• I have always thought the actions of men the best interpreters of their thoughts.
• Words without action are like wheels without traction. It is how you live that counts. 
• Action is stronger than subjectivity. No matter what you feel or think, you can still act. 
• Emotion is created by motion.

One Bus

Scores of people milling around: bodies touching bodies, sellers calling out their wares at every commuter, bus drivers, bus conductors and other private car owners to have a taste of what they carried on their heads and arms: soft drinks, assorted biscuits, sweets, chewing gums, sausages of every brand and just about anything that the mouth can accept.

A handbag in one hand and a small travelling in another hand, I shuffled between the sea of human bodies and stressed looking faces to locate the bus park where I was to board. I spotted it! Immediately I climbed into the bus and took a seat where I felt I would be most comfortable considering the distance I’ll travel and the long traffic I’ll most likely be in for hours. I sighed at the thought. 

I have been on the road for more than thirty hours trying to have a sense of how people live: lifestyle, business, studies, and how they survive in this place called Nigeria. As I sat in the bus, hunger gnawed at me. I haven’t eaten any proper food in the last thirty hours; just fruits, and lots of water. The last real meal I ate was amala and ewedu. Thing is, I have find it difficult eating out; because I feel there’s something not really nourishing about the process of how these restaurant and mama-put food sellers go about food for the masses. So often, I stick to drinking lots of water to compensate until I can’t bear it anymore. Mind you, it’s not like I like starving myself, just that I like well prepared meals. Plus I’m always weary about any form of food poisoning during travelling. You just never know.

Then a guy climbed into the bus and sat next to me. Soon thereafter, the bus was filled and we were on our way to Lekki-Ajah axis. 

Hunger gnawed at me. I wanted to buy a malt drink earlier, but the street hawkers had only sachet ‘pure water’, bottled water and soft drinks for sale. I didn’t want any soft drinks in my stomach and kept hoping one of the sellers would come by selling malt drinks. None came and by the time the vehicle left the park, unfortunately for me, no other drink seller came by. So I picked up the bottled water in my bag and drank from it. It felt good; yet I was still hungry. 

Then the guy sitting next to me brought out a meat-pie from the nylon wrap, the scent waffled towards me and before I knew it, I blurted out: “I would love to eat that meat-pie!” the guy looked at me, a little thrown aback by my request and then he was full of mirth. “I can give you half of it and eat the other half.” He replied in impeccable English with a cool voice to go with it. It is the sort of voice people will call ‘yanki accent’ but I could tell he was not ‘forming’ and this was how he spoke naturally. He looked like one who had gone to a very good school since he was young; hence the seeming flawlessness of how he spoke.

“So sorry I said that”, I replied him, “but I’m I hungry! Thank you so much. I’ll just break one third of the meat-pie, while you eat the rest. All I need is just a little food in my mouth.” And with that I broke a bit of the meat-pie and started chipping off bits into my mouth; didn’t want to finish eating the meat-pie too quickly. 

Surprisingly the meat tasted delicious!: soft, tasty fillings, which melted in my mouth. “Where did you get this meat-pie?” I asked. He mentioned a street I didn’t know. Then I told him how rare it was to find meat-pies this tasty and well made. “I buy it every time I’m on my way back home”, he said. 

Then I said, “Be careful you don’t eat it that often oo, else you’ll pay for it later when you hit your 40s and 50s.” He gaped at me like he couldn’t see the connection I was making, so I elaborated. “A friend of mine told me how, after he got his well paying job he felt the definition of a big boy was eating doughnuts, egg rolls, meat-pies and the likes every day at work since he was twenty five, only for him to be told by his doctor when he was thirty nine that he had high cholesterol. He was so shocked by the news because he was a rather slim-looking guy with no ounce of extra kilograms bulging from any part of his body: face, stomach or waist. It was then the doctor explained to him that doughnuts and the likes are steeped in deep frying. And the more he ate them, the more cholesterol he accumulated.

“Wow.” he said. He hadn’t thought of it that way. And before long, we talked about everything that popped into our heads. He narrated how he was a lawyer and how during school he had been a car dealer, a ‘fayawo’ who transported cars from Benin, Togo and even went as far as Ghana to get a Bedford truck he couldn’t get from Nigeria, Benin and Togo. “You mean you did this kind of business while schooling?” I asked. I was impressed at his business sense. “Yeah. Did it for about eight to nine years.” he beamed at me, obviously proud of his feat. I ‘wowed’ inside my head because he looked so young wearing an ‘asari-dokubo’ kind of moustache.

As the bus continued its tired journey along the highway with several stops, go-slow and near miss accidents from other rough drivers, the heat became unbearable. I couldn’t help speaking up about the inconveniences of the journey but nobody thought it strange.  It struck me how as I looked about me no one seemed to complain about the heat, the tightness of the car, the permanently fixed window that will not open to let in air, neither were they complaining about the traffic jam. I couldn’t help feeling that Lagosians are so used to suffering that they actually enjoy suffering! And so I asked by seat partner, “Why do many Lagosians put up with so much discomfort? Is it because they enjoy or is it that they are simply pursuing an illusion?” 

“I would say it is the latter. Everybody in Lagos thinks that one day he will make it. Next time it would be their turn. So they hang on, hoping, believing.” I was so stunned I blurted out,  “You know the problem with people is that many have not lived in other cities. Many haven’t travelled to other parts of Nigeria to see how people can live quiet, sane and productive life. All of these stress and inconveniences you guys put up with in Lagos is pure insanity.” The guy just laughed; amused at me and thoroughly enjoying my ‘righteous outburst’. 

“What would it take Lagos state government to put up good road systems in place: waterway transport, railways, more roads, better flyovers rather than this white elephant round about stationed at very key junctions?” he nodded as though he understood my anger. “This is a state that rakes in several millions per month in taxes alone and yet its citizens don’t get value for it? They build a roundabout and they want people to clap for them for building such a structure, when that is what they are supposed to do! Do they think this is like building sand castles on the beach and they shout like kids and say, “Look mum! Look dad! See what I built!” is that what they think running a state is?”

He replied, “Don’t mind them. In fact they make sure every TV and radio stations announce the commissioning of such!” he grinned broadly. Then I said, “And yet it is so easy to make a living in Lagos easy if only their greed is channelled to making a more lasting legacy that’s all encompassing.” He simply nodded his head. And then we were quiet again; both of us lost in our thoughts.

Although my mind was miles away, the loud-over-the-phone banter the conductor was having kept intruding my thoughts violently. The conductor kept talking over his phone repeatedly to an angry caller who seemed to want both the conductor and driver to head to Oshodi so he could take over the bus for the next business shift. But the driver kept hollering back at the conductor to tell the angry caller that nothing would make him go to Oshodi, and if the caller wanted to take over the next business shift, he’ll have to meet them back on his return shift to Obalende. They kept at this spat for a while until I think the matter was settled. But the heat in the bus was getting at me as we’ve been in the ‘hold-up’ for a while now without moving an inch. So I said to the conductor, “You know, if you guys fit this bus with an AC, to cope during traffic and in this heat, I’m sure people will be willing to part with four hundred naira per person.”

He laughed. That was when he told me he was not a ‘proper’ conductor but simply giving the driver assistance. “I’m a clothes seller and a ‘fayawo’ dealer he said.” I beamed at him and said, “Man’s got skills. You’re a serious hustler and business savvy too.” He smiled back and said, “I deal in bails and sell chinos, men’s shirts and jeans. That’s my real business.” Next thing I knew, the guy sitting next to me and the conductor began talking animated about how each transported vehicles across the borders. The conductor narrated he had been as far as Garbon to do business too. I was amazed to see so many Nigerians with so much entrepreneurial and adventurous spirit in one bus. And it struck me how untapped their skills and talents are in a country where infrastructure and lasting institutions are seriously lacking.

My head was beginning to ache. This heat will not kill me! To distract myself, I drew my seat partner into another conversation about automatic and manual driving. He told me how his wife favoured automatic driving over manual but I told him I preferred being in control of the car; manipulating gears was a thrill for me. But he said when in traffic, manual driving becomes more of a curse than a blessing. We made a comparison between driving manual in the UK and in Nigeria during heavy traffic and we both agreed it would be much easier with the former than the latter. 

Next thing you know, we began another topic about this brilliant idea he had for a magazine for persons in his field. As I listened to all he said, it was such a brilliant I didn’t hesitate to answer: 

“That’s an idea waiting to happen! Go for it!” He was so full of mirth he said, “You know what, I’ve been looking for somebody to just tell me to go with it! And now I feel I can ask more of your advice from the questions you’ve just asked me.”

“Well, that’s no problem. You’ll pay consultancy fee.” He nodded in agreement. “If that’s what it takes, I will!” he beamed.

Then unexpectedly, we accidentally veered into religion. That was when I got to know he was a Muslim. I was more than impressed. I’ve met some intelligent and extraordinary Muslims in my life time and couldn’t wait to ask him why he preferred this religion. He said Islam teaches him a lot and answers most of life’s basic questions: how to marry, take care of your family, how to meet your wife and how to have salvation with keeping his faith. “What more could I ask?” he enthused. I could tell he was happy where he was.

Then I asked, “So how did Mohammed write the Koran if he was not able to read and write?”

“It was revealed to him.” he said nonplussed.

“Has is struck you, that his expression ‘I cannot read and write’ may actually be a metaphor and not something to be taken literally about literacy?”

“It was revealed to him. The Angel embodied him to help him write.”

“In other words nothing can come out of a vacuum. It is possible that Mohammed understood basic Arabic. And even if he could not write it, definitely he could speak it, which means he has the sense of language and the sounds they make. So that even if he was not as schooled, but because he already had the language skill in Arabic, it was easy to write what was revealed to him, right?” 

I paused to gauge him, but he nodded slightly. So I continued, “Nothing comes out of nothing. It could be abstract or tangible but something cannot come out of a vacuum. We may not see it, but it is there. Even cosmic evolution came out of ciaos. And when you think of it, it may just be a humble statement by the prophet to persons as glorious as Angels; just as Moses told God that he was slow of speech. And in his case, even though he was slow in speaking, he was made to do the job and he became better at it. So the period when Prophet Mohammed made that statement was an era when humility was the hallmark of a person’s character. And when you think of it, even Christ’s followers were described as not lettered. This meant they did not go to university, as we know it. Nonetheless, they understood basic speech and could communicate.”

“That is why I say he was embodied.”

“It is okay to believe what you believe. And if believing what you believe, has helped you to live a better, fulfilled and impactful life, all well and good. However it is good that you’re conscious HOW YOU BELIEVE.”

“You know, I almost did not want to begin this discussion with you!” he exclaimed with a smile.

“I know.” I smiled back. Then the young woman with a surprised look on her face on my left asked, 

“Is he a Muslim?” I said yes, and then turned by attention back to my gisting partner. “You see,” I began, “there are always variations to stories that has been passed down. And all of them add a perspective to the whole story. From those who became followers and adherents to those who simply admired or hated a particular history in focus. Many claim that Mohammed and Jesus were real persons. Evidence abounding seems to prove that they existed. But the question about their claim to ‘Inspiration from God or Angels’ leaves many questions unanswered. So the word FAITH was invented to make allowance for BLIND BELIEF – blind belief that does not question – and should not question. Now this calls into question HOW WE BELIEVE.”

“So are you saying I should not believe what my religion has taught me!”

“Oh. It is okay to believe your religious doctrines or teachings, but to become gullible to the point of blind belief where metaphors used as expressions were meant to convey a state or level of understanding or assumed posture of a given period to cloud reality of what ‘Inspired’ means, then there’s a problem. It is better to say, “Yes, our religion teaches this based on that which we believe happened. Although I cannot vouch much for the veracity of the claims made or even passed onto us, I CONSCIOUSLY & RATIONALLY CHOOSE TO ACCEPT it as part of our beliefs and doctrines that gives us a sense of reference – even though many silent questions are not satisfactorily answered – rather than say “Just believe, ok! Believe!!!” 

“You’re seeing thing from a human point of view. So you can’t understand.”

“Believe has its place. But it should be borne not by guilt by collective acceptance.”

He said to me, “I don’t think there’s any much difference.”

Then I replied, “When you say it that way, you’ll realise that it helps remove the seed of doubts, erases over simplified explanations and makes you NOT feel like a fool who’s being taken for a ride – a ride to where many more questions keep raising their persistent heads. All I’m saying is, do not ANYONE OR ANYTHING LIMIT YOUR MIND or tell you how to think. Still it is your choice to believe as you want to believe.” I smiled broadly, my mouth now permanently sealed. He tensed a bit, relaxed afterwards and it was clear he did not want to lose his demeanour. I admired him for that.

Afterwards, quite a number of them in this One Bus wanted to know how they could read my Blog. I scribbled into their notepads: LadyEchannel.blogspot.co.uk. a young woman even volunteered her phone for me to browse my FB page so she could ask for friend’s request. 

Just when I was so close to my bus-stop that was when the driver ran into kwanta, an altercation with some miscreants of the highway! 

Without much delay, I quickly alighted and walked the distance.

Lagos Na Wa!

If You've Never Experienced This Before, Then You've not Been to Naija!!

It was a wailing, an outcry, and the crashing sound of many voices in peril. 

I woke up with a start. The cries sounded like someone in serious pain, gasping for breath. All of a sudden, an alarming shout rented the still air on a cold night. I thought I heard someone shout: "Armed robbers oo. Armed robbers oo." I swear, that was how it sounded.

It was as if the vocal riffs were alerting the rest of us sleepy heads to wake up from our slumber, unaware of impending doom! 

How did these night marauders penetrate the well-guarded estate where my friend rented a plush flat, I kept asking myself repeatedly, unsure whether to step out of where I was. 

Without thinking, I sneaked out of bed, prowled quietly from my room, and just as I was about to open the door, I heard another resounding shout. At first I couldn’t make out the words, but after several repetitions I heard the phrases: “Amen! Amen! Thank you Father!...”

It went on like this for several more seconds and abruptly stopped; silence descended upon the entire compound. It was midnight.

And then it hit me! These persons were carrying out one of their usual prayer chants, disturbing the peace, quiet, and calm of the night; of tired neighbours who had barely gotten into bed after watching the late night news.

Moments later the singing and chanting began again: longer, persistent and focused at unseen enemies – both real and unreal – to be burnt by fire!

I clawed back to my bed, waited and waited for the noisy chants to end, but it seemed they had only just begun. Sleep fled. 

Three hours on, they battled on in their frightened, wailing, bitter and unsure voices, commanding, demanding – completely insensitive to their neighbours’ right to a peaceful night rest as they raised their voices higher and higher insensitive to their neighbours’ plight who would struggle to be productive the next day at work.

Is it such a bad thing to pray quietly, respectfully and with sublimed passion? Someone should please help me understand that.

While their chanting, singing and thumping continued till dawn, I barely had a moment’s sleep, and just when I thought they had toned down a bit, the generators from another flat sputtered to life; the noise deafening. It was one of those typical generators that never got serviced regularly, thoroughly misused without regard to the quality of it life’s span. 

I moaned. I groaned. Oh boy! not again!

 Before I could adjust to this additional noise, directly opposite the estate, just across the street, loud speakers boomed all manner of utterances, shouts, demands, commands and shrieking supplications! 

Just as one speaker goes off another or several more loudspeakers takes its place on the airwaves. On that crescent alone, there at least eight different religious bodies professing the same fate with just another that had a muezzin, which added its own jarring sounds to the acerbating cacophony.

Moments later, motorists blast their car horns at will; motorcyclist, the okada riders, tut their larger-than-life horns mercilessly to attract passengers, sometimes trading expletives with other motorists and commuters alike. 

And when I finally got to the hospital where I was referred to, at the federal medical centre, patients clamoured for doctor’s attention, complaining of inefficiency and abandonment in loud voices, their anger unrelenting. 

If that were not enough noise within hours of my small existence, at the market, customers haggled over prices in shouting matches; each too consumed with their skill to out-negotiate the other in the duel of parsimonious finances.

At the salon or hair shops located in market places, grating generator sounds, jarring Nollywood videos intrude your every conscious second.

On the news, whether at the offices or home, voices scream at you from the TV set. All you hear about is the president’s election and the noisy raucous of lobbyists, praise singers and ill tempered opposition members trading aspersions and counter-attack at each other; almost close to libel.

Just when I was hoping to rest before the children returned from school, an over excited neighbour blares discordant Naija jamz from pounding speakers at ear-splitting decibels that can bust your eardrums to shards of pummeled glasses.

Parents shout at their children who just returned from school, overwhelmed by their own lack of skill in managing their wards; the biting harsh economy notwithstanding, set their hearts racing.

I'm yet to adjust to all these, when just after dinner, I watch as men and women in dark suit walked into the estate, heading for another flat. You’d think they had come to visit, then what a surprise to hear them noisily call out at the top of their voices from 8:30 p.m. into the dead of night demanding, binding, casting and cursing the unknown enemies: perceived, real or non-existent.

As thought that was not enough for one day, disco and night clubs pump up the volumes into the streets; keeping awake tired citizens who have had a long and possibly unfulfilled day.

And I thought it was suppose to be a weekday!

Gosh! This Country is Noisy.