I LOVED YOU

My eyes bled when you left.

Right before our callousness, our memories faded like blue.
My heart can't even remember the rhythm of our love.
The nooks of my heart that your love like yeast puffed up melted like ice.

I don't pray for your sky to be ill or wish for your indifference to heal.
I only want you to mourn this gift we couldn't keep.
I rather you mourn this thing that we once had.

Love is not sick, we are.
Time didn't put us here, we did.
It was funny how we needed victories but couldn't swallow the little wars.
It is still funny.

I'm not sorry that you couldn't stay.
I'm not sorry that you thought I was too much for you.
I'm not sorry for you.
I'm only sorry that I believed you when you said we could work.
I'm sorry I loved you in full when you could only receive in bits.
I'm still sorry.

BROKEN CRAYONS STILL COLOUR

Yeah, I've missed you too. Of course, I have some gists for you. One gist, actually. 

We did our first online exhibition @ The Green Sheriffs from 26 August to 2 September. It was lit, if I do say so myself. Here's my piece. 

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men
Couldn’t Humpty Dumpty together again
-  LEWIS CARROLL, Alice Through the Looking Glass.

The way I see it, we all have our not-so-lighted sides, the sides that still retain scars and stitches from our infamous brokenness. It gets sewn into us, into the very fabric of our persons, and like marriage, we become one with it. No doubt, it costs us an arm and a leg. Our feigned smiles and laughter do a nice makeup job. The makeup almost covers up the blood and sweat. If you ask me, I think it makes us thick. Yeah, I know you didn’t ask but it's my blog.

You see, we are humans and the offspring of our parents. We do well almost the only thing we’ve been taught; to fix everything that is broken around us or to die trying. But not all broken things can be fixed. Not all broken things should be fixed. It is not always true that when it’s broken it is bad. Don't jump to conclude that it's useless if it can’t be fixed, that it's hopeless. For that is the problem, the reason for our needless search for what already is. 

There’s hope for brokenness. There’s virtue in brokenness. Maybe all the king’s horses and all the king’s men shouldn’t bother fixing Humpty Dumpty. Maybe Humpty Dumpty doesn't need putting together. I like the thought that my friend, Ope, shared when we started this project, she says BROKEN CRAYONS STILL COLOUR and I couldn’t agree more!

Back in Ezoti Primary School, I particularly loved whole crayons, kind of the way short women love tall men. To me, they were beautiful until they broke, then I’ll cast and bind them into the least accessible region of my red backpack. The ugliness that it became when it was broken distracted me from seeing the glory of what could become my painting. To me, it was damaged. It was funny because right before my eyes, my friend, Eseosa bled them into colourful pictures. He often annoyingly said that they were even easier to use. As I write this now, I realize that the problem was not with the "damaged" crayons, but with me. Unlike me, Eseosa understood that crayons will not always come whole. But either way, they colour.

Life will give you your own fair share of yawa, so get used to it. Maybe you’ve carefully arranged your dreams, career, or business and life just crashes in and breaks them fairly bad. At some point, life will break you. I'm sorry, but it will. It will hand you a tragedy, the kind you’ve only seen happen to Cinderella, Okonkwo, and Mara&Clara. It is then up to you to pick up your broken remain and write a sequel. Scare life and write a comedy (again, a piece of advice you didn't ask for. Still my blog). 

Maybe, just maybe Humpty Dumpty ain’t gone after all.
...   ...   ...   ...   ...   ...   ...   ...  ...  ...   ...

Until next time (hopefully soon, I'll miss you too). 

WHAT IS IN A DASH?

‘‘I’ll tell you a secret, something they don’t teach you in your temple. The gods envy us. They envy us because we‘re mortal, because any moment might be our last’’.
(Achilles speaking to Briseis in the movie Troy)

What is the opposite of death, life or birth? 

Don’t tell me the mention of death scares you too? Come on, any day now you’ll…never mind. 

It’s been three days since August began, and there’s already so much to talk about. Edo state branch of NULGE protested on Wednesday, one slumped and died. Orubebe was on the news again today, not for good, of course. Hope, Mmesomer, and Bibi never forget to remind me that it’s a new month, love it. The rain is gradually quieting down or maybe it’s just me. My old phone has this new bad habit, it goes off when I need it to be on and also stays off when I need it to be off. Yeah, it’s always off. BEDC has been raining on my parade. 

Do you ever feel like your life is swallowing you up? Maybe, it's going a little too fast for you? Or you are getting no enjoyment from life? I read once that it is sometimes worst than death. I may or may not know a little about this. 

I saw again on EBS, just before the evening news, a gone-too-soon announcement. The family said that he’s forever in their heart, but that one nor concern me. This is what got me really thinking, it was simply written; 1988-2016. Can you imagine? A man’s full existence is summarized like that. But really, what’s the summary of life? I guess it’s in a dash! The way I see it, there are 3days in person’s life; the day they are born, the day they live and the day they die. In my thought, other people fill a date on when you are born and when you die but leave a dash on when you lived because only you can fill it.

This dash between birth and death day is quite different. It’s not the kind you find in your red English language reader asking you to fill in the blanks nor is it the dash you put before you explain the formation of Acetyl CoA (Prof. Bamikole sha). 

This DASH is the summary of your whole life. That day you finally took your first walk after a lot of omomo kege. The days you started and stopped crying about school. How you crushed on Atitinugo and experimented smoking with remain from the customers' stick. That day you went on evangelism and prayed you to marry a virgin. All the time life took from you and all the time it gave to you. The days you can’t remember and the ones you can’t forget. The dash is all that and more. The content of the dash may differ. 

You see, people don’t cry about how you are born or die. They cry because they will miss how you lived, that's why we tend not to cry for strangers. I don’t mean to dash your hope and belief for long life, but any moment could be your last. Okay, Our last, if it makes you feel any better.

My advice (which you always don't ask for but I'll always) is to start living deliberately! Stop photocopying people’s existence and moonwalking your way through life. Pursue a dream with all your gut, however absurd. Gain mastery. Travel just to see snow and the ugly emu bird. Go on a mission. Give, take, and share. I’m sure you have your list, just go on and live. 

The beauty about living is that when you do, you inadvertently give others the courage to do the same.

MAYBE IT'S YOU.

Frankly, I think this I-am-sorry-I-have-been-away thing is already too old. So, why don't we try something new? How about I gist you a bit of what I can say kept me away? You like that, don’t you?

Here it goes, I’m now in 400L. While that’s final year for most people who aren't going for Songhai, nah one year remain for me. So, let’s save the bottles for later. I was not with the crew that went in search of the moon, exam kept me. My exam was fine, thanks for asking. You were going to ask right? And one of my pretty sister lost her maiden name. Yeah, they said I am not supposed to cry. They said it’s a good thing. They said I’m all grown up. Who else gets that often? 

And while I was away, I noticed everyone, including me, was blaming society for the several things they got wrong. That’s what I’m talking about today. Yeah, I’m happy to see you too.

I’m weary of listening or even hearing by chance the whining of men and women. Those, who will take the slightest window to dodge responsibility for their poor choices. Anytime they succeed, even when it’s by pure luck, they’d say they took the risk, took impossible decisions, made sophisticated plans, and this and that. But, when they fail at anything, someone is behind it! It has to be Iye and her gang of Azens and Osos. Pick a struggle, my friend! 

See, I don’t wanna use this to dispute the outside factor. No! I just want us to think together. Aren’t we giving too much credit to society? More than they even deserve! My friend, the cause of your troubles is not and will not always be external! Think am nah! Maybe we are giving society more credit than they deserve is all I'm saying. 

You blamed society for how you bleached your skin to mimic snow when your problem simply was a poor self-image.  You blamed societal opinions for how you picked a course you never wanted and will never want to study, hence the lack of drive. When your only problem was your sac full of insecurity. Your blame your age and how society will raise their nose at you for how you ended in a leaking marriage. When your problem was obviously inpatients and your nah-only-me-remain-wey-never-marry mentality. Are you listening to yourself now? Should I remind you more? That’s how you got here. You are afraid and Irresponsible. Are you offended? I’m not sorry. See, I know being responsible is not cheap, but it's the only way.

Let me tell you some truth;
(1) when you choose your path (any path!), you become responsible for how you end up. You don’t compare! You don’t complain! You neither throw nor honor a blame party!

(2) Society is many things but your problem. They are your spectators, onlookers, challenge, springboard, market, and reason, but never your problem.

(3) Remember 1 and 2!

Here’s for a fresh start. Take a thorough inventory of your life. Pick out the broken pieces. The part you are not proud of and you’d rather apportion blames. Those parts that you think are not your fault. Now, be responsible and accept that it’s your fault. Yeah…it's your fault.  Then, start again. You will prefer it, trust me.

I'M A FARMER

I'm sorry for staying away for so long. Only last week the Secretary in my fellowship said exam was around the corner. Now, Prof. is saying the same exam is knocking. But, I can't be tricked. Exams don't lurk around your backyard, they don't knock. They break down your door. So, that's why I've been away. Yeah, I miss you too. Wait oh, I heard Madam Aisha is neating Fayose's eye? But how will that reduce the price of tomatoes? *smh*

....

This one came out of the AGR3*zero*5 farm and the road that led us all there

I've heard your reservation and they almost make sense. 
But is it really out of care or you are just scared I'd fail you?
Yeah, I understand. I too wouldn't see over the fence
If I were you.
But you see, what I see is quite more than frankincense
It's like nothing on your pew

Our fear ain't the same
Not anymore.
I think I see a pharaoh in yours.
"Are you really gonna consider this?"
"But it's all sweat and sand!"
"And a bit of blood"
"It is mere agriculture!"
"You're gonna end up an ordinary farmer"

I see your fears
They are almost valid.
But they are also too old.
They are like dinosaurs now.
My teeth can't chew on your ignorance no more
You can join me on this side
Or honour the treaty you signed with fear 
Either way, you'll see
That a Communion with the soil and chlorophyll, livestock and weather 

Is not a necessary evil
But a call a holy burden
...

This is to the Agro Lords.

I WOKE UP LIKE THIS

"What happened to the black people of Sumer?" The traveller asked the old man. "For ancient records has it that the people of Sumer were black. What happened to them?"

"Ah" the old man sighed. They lost their history, and so they died".

No doubt, Nigeria despite the unflowered state, has its own romance. How do you make a fine soup of nationhood without the ingredient of history? How did we kick it out of our schools? Did all its teachers retire? Or did the students stop wanting it? Why is the university the only place history is heard? Faintly even! it is funny because our fathers,  who now claim we have failed never taught us about our past but expect us to respect, love it and move on. Well, it's clearer now than ever, we need a firm and an unbiased grip of history; family and nation. How did we get here? What have we tried? How have we failed? The easiest way to ruin a person is to make sure they don't tell their stories or to tell only part of it. To rise from this pit, we must tell all. Write all. Read all.

To all you visionaries who believe that to start afresh, we must forget our history, and also to everyone who thinks that the best shot at a perfect future is to deny the past; you are in the wrong. If you don't know what led to this moment, you will remain in it. Running from the glaring truth of the past is like a black lady applying blush; it's futile. We are who we are. Until we are courageous enough to learn about our history, we are not ready for the future. One chief factor why we as Nigerians can't effectively tackle trials is a thriving ignorance of the past. It is not enough to cram dates of obvious events and names of prominent forefathers. It is not okay to possess a detached knowledge of your root. How did all you've come to crammed come about? And why?

I think sincerely that one reason we don't tell about our history is that we don't have it. As a people, we have a very outdated manner of storing information. A terrible habit. We admit too many things to memory and chance. A historic happening is often undocumented and is left to the sparse mercy of hearsay. So, all the time, the truth of history is lost or often modified to suit the faction of the teller. It is almost always not correct. People forget they die, they lie. 

Ben Murray-Bruce (the "I just want to make common sense" crooner) in his book A Common Sense Revolution wrote, "Nigerians may be surprised to note that if you want to get accurate records of Nigeria Civil War, of supreme military council activities, of leaders that were deposed (e.g Buhari first regime), of defining moments of Nigeria's history, you have to go to either the British Broadcasting Corporation, BBC or the British ITV". Can you imagine! Those melancholic evenings where we sat at Baba's feet and laid on mama's chest while single-edged stories were shoved down our throats were surreal. But it's no longer enough.  Their whole truth should be told and so, should be properly documented.

History can have its own weight, but ignorance is worse…it could tear us into unimaginable bits. We all seem to know who to blame, but how would that help?  In a few years, you'd become an ancestor. Then, someone would blame you. And the rat race continues. No more should blame can be bought and sold. We woke up like this. Let's bother enough to understand the past before changing it. Let's tell our story. Paint it on the walls of our primary school instead of Scooby doo and Barney. How is a borrowed English language more important than our native History? Adamu Adamu, please wake our schools. Our children should know that our fathers did not only marry many wives and practiced subsistence farming, they also carved, painted, and built empires. Take history back to our schools.

All over the universe, histories are the same! It contains a fair divide of both loathsomeness and loveliness. You must first embrace and understand it, then try to prune. Give yourself a gift this Democracy Day celebration, go buy yourself a bowl of interest on national history. Teach the young. Tell others to do the same.

....

Happy Democracy Day celebration Nigeria and Happy birthday Bridget.

OF WHY WE CANNOT WAIT

I disagree with you.
There is good still flowing through the vessels of our thoughts.
I beg you to buy the courage to rethink your resolve.
Don't drown in this ephemeron flood
Save your kith too.
Can anything good come out of this Nazareth?
Well, you did!

There are no ropes…no boundaries
No doubt,
As soon as you're born, you are old enough to grow.
Be mindful of what you settle for,
Cos' that's what you'll give.
Your competition is as global as love.
The earth was flat until someone cared
Dust your brain and willpower
We are going to the lab.

Don't let your character go on holiday.
Ceaselessly Polish the wheel of TRUTH
Like a pestle in medieval war, it shouldn't fail.
But after every triumph, sharpen your sword.
It is laudable if you wanna' win from here.
But You've lost if you win only here.
Progress is not up for debate
Like money, it must be made.
To heal the record, we must play
To die well, we must first live.

LOVE IS NOT RED

The day will come when, after harnessing space , the winds , the tides, gravitation, we shall harness for God the energies of love. And, on that day, for the second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire"

-Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

On valentine's day, my school is always turned into a bloody colour by 'lovers'. If you don't have any touch of red, you are either too young to grasp love or too old to feel it. If you don't have a lover, you didn't exist that day. Mr. Matthew said about love, "It is the kind of feeling you feel when you feel the kind of feeling you've never felt before". 

Is love that reliable rising sun that never fails to come every morning or that denting black spot on your knee that stays after a fall?  Maybe my school was correct, love has some colour to it. Maybe Mr. Matthew was right, love is indeed a feeling. Maybe love is really meant for lovers. But is that all love is about?

Some say love dampens the senses and so, should never come. Others suggest that if it did come, it should never stay for It comes with too much bother. Society (you and I) have tenaciously misconstrued the science of love. It's not always sex. It does not always gain. It is not the light in your eyes when you see Felicia or the lump in your throat when you hug Dápo. It is not about who you can love and when it's convenient. It's not moi-moi, it should not be rationed. Love is not religious, tribal, or racial. Love is not blind. Love does cost a thing. Love is not that dripping red heart picture on your gallery. No! Love is not red. What did they say about journalists? They consistently repeat a lie with the hope that it will become true. No amount of clothing we put love can change how it looks. It is either love or not. No semi-love or fake love.

Love could be petalous as well as thorny. Love is commitment. Believe me, love is the smile on your face when you see your imperfect self in a mirror. It was the pain in mummy's voice when she bore you. It was the necessity in daddy's gait as he spank your mischievous bum. Love was the hurried steps your playmates made into the bush to fetch Awolowo leaf to tend your scratched knee. It was the silence Uzor shared with you when words failed. It was in those things we shared and gave when it was all we had. It was in those voices that prayed and cheered us on when we couldn't find strength. It was in the kiss on the altar when you remembered how long Bamikole waited to deserve you. Love was when you trusted Isoken with your heart. Love is simple. It cannot be caged, but given wings. Love is the only debt that can't be paid in full.

Love is when you let yourself live.

OBSEQUIES.

Do we let any wind carry us or do we pick the one we follow? There's a girlie thing about 'naso them dey do am' (tradition), its attractiveness is as nippy as an office pin near a giant magnet. Like most things, it has a dark side and some colour to it. As per colour, there is this 'here-we-respect-our-elders' credit it possesses. The way it also permits us to fetch personhood from the tap of our past to water our 'now' into a green future. Then, there's the dark region. The part that èpà don't chronicle stories about, Akowè won't scribble about, Osayomore dare not play flute about. Even auntie Ewaen has never gossiped about it. That part we rather leave untouched because…we know little or nothing about it.

There are those who argue that we jettison the entirety of 'how they did it' and go for new ways. Well, I disagree. I think we should bring it forward and edit it. We don't need a sword to either protect or cut off the status quo. What we need is a brush and a pair of scissors to sometimes polish or at other times cut ties with it. Believe me, When you understand the science of progress, a lot of palavers are resolved.

I asked Alama (not real name) why we so much break out pockets and safes for funerals. She looked into space as one looking at the multicoloured poster of 'Ikenna; the blind warrior' for what seemed like a minute. Then she abruptly replied, "it's how we pay last respect here".  Well, our last respect is a little too expensive don't you think? If the dead could act, they'd slap us out of our burial-celebratory-mode into the mourning-realizing-that-we-are-dust-mode.

Now, every Thursday, you would hear the screeching of tires as though formula 4 is next door. But you'd find out that a family is trying to bury a loved one and so, thought it frugal enough that neighbours do not have peace. Well, the neighbours don't mind as long as the noise births take-away packs, beverages, and souvenirs. A lot of return-from-mortuary gyration has led to accidents that led to deaths that later led to another gyration. Note here that gyration is like an appetizer to the main course-OBITO. 

Burial is business now as families sell Ankara as though it's kilishi. It's common nowadays to hear things like "Epa, My elder brother don die, dis nah the second cloth wey we carry for the burial. The party nah Saturday" How about the owambe and Obito rockers who now take burials as food fare and Saturdays as a lucky day.

Iye no khua died 5 months ago of what the doctors described as heart failure. We all know what killed IYe…neglect! Her remains have since been deposited in Gods Care Mortuary, while the family prepares for a breathtaking burial. The afore disjointed family has been forced into halfhearted cooperation…for Iye's sake. Osakpamwan, the first son and second child has since issued orders from the Netherland (backed with some Euro of course) that what is now left of the sagging building that was once the residence of Iye be renovated and painted white. 'They need to know that Iyè's children are well off' he said.

Iye's first daughter, Imatitikua was the picture D'banj had in mind when he said 'importer, exporter, cocoa water!'. She had prayed two years earlier when Iye first fell sick that God should keep her alive. Not out of love as you would naturally want to think, but because her Dubai business just started off. The business was too young to survive a burial. But now, Iye died at the right time, "I can now give my mother a befitting burial" she boasted.

The other six children soon arrived from different parts of the country. The budget for the burial was 3.5 million Naira. This, of course, includes the list from the oka-egbe (the head of the extended family) who see burial as a form of seasonal employment opportunity to sift as many goodies as possible. After splitting the budget, Imatitikua being the eldest took the highest. Only her and Osakpamwan could afford their share, the other 6 had to borrow to make up and look good.

The burial ceremony surpassed their expectation, all 31 canopies where filled up with many more standing. This confirmed what Felix the last born said a day before, "make we only invite those wey fit spray oh, the rest go somehow come". Three bands played. Everyone ate, drank, gossiped, fought, and took away. Everybody applauded them. " This burial tough pass that Pa. John Ode own last week o" a 'professional burial analyst' commented. The burial was done, everybody was smiling, Iye's was gone, the children were indebted, and life continued.

Iye's death had brought crocodile tears, new Ankara, artificial unity, and long-term debt.

But how could Iye's children have done differently?  Was that not the way everybody does it? You see, I get the whole 'last respect part'. But, whatever happened to burial ceremony being solemn? It should be a time when we see the remains of our loved ones and remind them that we share the like fate. I believe we didn't start out like this. Even if we did, maybe it is time we stopped.

If you have been saving for any OBITO, just go and invest in a business and stop disturbing the dead and living with this craze. 

Enough! Burial is not an investment opportunity, it is a time of mourning and reflection.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN MIRACLE?

They're developed 'cos they develop anything that comes their way.  

When we find, we ask, "how much will it cost". 

When they find, they ask, "how many ways can this serve?"

When we find, we head straight to the marker squares. 

When the find, they head straight to the research centres.

They've gone so far 'cos they labour for the future.  

But we've stood so still cos we labour for survival.

"No food for lazy man", has always been our guide. 

But we should be careful for there's no future for the foody man. 

-Adah Paul (st. Luke)

DEAR SKIN MATE,

Today is Sunday. Yesterday, the rain and the sun could not agree on which should come first. So, the two, like impatient bus drivers, came down same time. As I write this in an almost empty LT, I'm thinking, was the tiger giving birth (tales from childhood)? Or the rain and sun were just selfish?

Oh, did your read about the choirmaster of the changing church and his visit to China to extend the begging bowl? How's that Saraki's case coming up sef? For so long, too many things have hindered me from writing to you. I finally prevailed, hence this letter. Hope you're good? I'm well.

I heard of your clamour and desire for fame and public attention. You want the Tyler Perry crowd and Bishop Oyedepo's force. This is a good thing. I think Maslow would also agree. But, allow me to show you a note from my most interesting course yet (Arable Crop Production);
"Africa is however not important for wheat production. Since wheat is the only grain with enough gluten content to make a raised loaf of bread, wheat quickly became favoured over other grains". So, here's the question; what value do you bring to the world's table? It is your importance that counts, not your desire. So get your attention-seeking arse to work and give the world a reason to look at you.

It's good for your Zara gown to perfectly fit your athletic body. Yeah, it's okay to be sexy. I've been like the way you so meticulously treat your hair that they look like a makeshift for noodles. I like your Chloè bag too. It adds to your sassiness. I'm impressed. I really love your white timberland and your gold neck chain that glows like that blue flame they use in making michai. I understand this fancy and cozy lifestyle. Yeah, I probably want it too. But is that all? Like seriously, is that all you've got? 

What about the white matter in between your ears? Do you ever clothe it? What do you live for? What do you want to die doing? Have you ever really thought lately? Have you observed that our grudgingly stocked libraries and sagging bookstores are no longer in vogue? Did you take note of the hundreds of drinking parlours and clubs that have quickly become the cot of friends? Do you see how gerontocracy is feeding fat on our green and white cake as we anciently wait for tomorrow? The former prime minister of Singapore, Lee Kuan Yew asserted, "The new divide in the world will be between those that have the knowledge and those without" You simply can't act more than what you know. What do you know? What would you do differently?

You see, you should believe your geography teacher. The sun is the center of the universe, not you. I remember what you ranted to that fella that injured your frail pride, "do you know who I am?" Well, I thought about it after I left you; if you have to remind anybody about who you are, then maybe you are not. Try and go to a place far away from here and also quieter. When you get there, ponder about the celestial beauty of the sun and how it does not sing to us every morning about being the sun...it simply shines. Add to your pondering list, the over 7 billion people on the side of existence and how to effectively serve them. Yeah, you read right...serve them! Or you get another idea?

When we went out that day and you recounted how good you were in bed and the contemporary sex style that you have both learned and invented, I was almost impressed. So, recently I did a micro-research. I wanted to know how the penis, vagina, and their union have helped better humanity. Guess what I found...nothing! On the contrary, it is the power of the brain that has since been shifting mankind not the efficiency of the waist. It will be a shame if the only thing you can do well is what's responsible for the world's regression.

Finally, you can call it a letter within a letter but make sure you give it to that your friend who told me about her many woes.

"Hey Uzodinma,

I'm black. I'm African. So the world will understand when I fail. After all, I have had to struggle for everything, even to talk and breathe. My dad still sees me as an expected mistake. Mummy almost agrees, except that I'm the only girl. 15 years ago, I was 10 years old. But my lesson teacher didn't think I was too young, he had his way one too many times. That's when I first died. I like the university for one thing, the lucrative upgraded prostitution. The earthen pot-bellied old men who come to pick me up from my hostel with their fast cars say I'm pretty and they can have enough of me. And that was the second time I died. Education is a myth for me, it's always going to be in the kitchen. So, damn the certificate! I don't think I count on God's big plan. Or so I thought. Everything has since changed. I found out that my story was not my problem. My perception was. So what's your story? It's your choice how your story turns out. An excuse or a motivation? You choose!

For the first time, I've started living. I'm still healing.

Your friend,
Former victim. "

I really would love to continue but, let me leave you now. I have just been told that some weeds are planning a coup d' etat against my plant. Even as I send this to you, I'll keep a copy for myself. Ensure you write back. 

Happy Sunday skin mate.

Regards.
...

I dedicate this work to Success Daniel NDU whose discussion and friendship gave birth to this work, salute. And also to my roommate, Noah Aghedo for help in trimming some syntactic cancer, thank you!

THE NEW NOISE

When the whole world is silent, even one voice becomes powerful - Malala Yousafzi

Back in the overpopulated primary 5B class where there were no shining louvres, whiteboards, and magic markers, Auntie Ruth will meticulously mark our hurriedly written class work and ask us to take down the homework (for our own good, else the rod).

We would eagerly await the closing bell at 1:45pm, but as is always the case, the clock becomes mischievously slow. So, we took to the only trade we knew...producing noise!

A reprimanding song by our class teacher will always immediately follow,

'You talk too much(2*)
Is this a marketplace?'

...and we would reply,
'No!'

Afterwards, the class goes cold.

That was many years ago and it was how I then understood noise.
However, as with many other things, my understanding of noise has also grown.

Not too long a night ago in my faculty's beautiful garden(it's NAAS garden baby), I was hanging out with a bunch of friends. Some of them were stepping on the seats instead of sitting. Somehow, I went dumb about it. Then out of nowhere, a concerned young man (whom I later discovered was in year 2) politely asked my year 3 friends that they sit properly. And they did! I quickly called him and commended his resolve. That day, by playing dumb, I made a noise! 

And that's how I've come to know and understand that silence and conformity are THE NEW NOISE. And stopping this noise is not easy as a different and courageous voice is required.

The most convenient thing to do is just keep quiet and blend. After all, others will talk. That's the one thing we do well; allow others to do the talking! It is shameful that the world has gone mute while you're still around.
Never in man's existence have so many voices been needed than now.

Please, understand that talking here means your actions and words

When you murmur and whine but don't proffer solutions, you are making a noise!
If you are afraid of stepping out and blessing the world with your dream, you are making a noise!
Anytime you fail to rebuke any form of evil or lazily conform to mediocrity, you are making a noise!
When you scorn instead of giving hope, you are making a noise!
Whenever you jump on the bandwagon and say "abeg eeh! nor be me start am", you are making a noise!

Simply put, anytime you don't do the right thing, you are making a noise! My pretty friend, Jocelyn (hbd jare), reminded me of when she would always say 'Be the voice, not an echo"

That day in Montgomery, Rosa Park, by mere sitting spoke so loudly that the civil right movement was born.
In those years in Calcutta, Mother Teresa by mere loving so soundly voiced so strongly that even history had to give her room to be an example.

I don't know what you think of yourself,  but more than ever, our world needs your talk!

...

This piece is dedicated to my friend, Davidson Obilor Nwaonu (Securus Generalis), his respect for his fellows and accountability to his world speak volumes. Respect bro!

SHORTCHANGED!

You deserve very little credit for being what you are and remember, the people who come to you irritated, bigoted, unreasoning, deserve very little discredit for being who they are. Feel sorry for the poor devils. Pity them. Sympathize with them. Say to yourself: 'there, but for the grace of God, go I'. -Dale Carnegie

If you've lived more than a day on earth, you would probably agree with my roommate, Felix when he says, "the world is not a beautiful place". Maybe you've seen some beauty, maybe you had some respite or maybe not. But how do you view the world?

Here, on the unattended flyover of hall 3, with the obligated wind rushing against my fine chest, the view is almost tranquil. The sun is fighting his way up already. I can see a guy vigorously brushing his teeth that an unsolicited concerned has gripped me. Another colourful dressed fella is so carefully feeling the comfy texture of his afro hairstyle as he ceaselessly runs his comb through. And if you could look, you'd also see that everyone is so busy with starting the day. They seem 'OK'...or not.

No doubt, we've all received our own personal share of life's blows. To rephrase one of the laws from George Orwell's Animal Farm, "All blows are equal, but some are more equal than others". 

Sometime ago, I read of  a toddler who was abandoned at the foot of the home for special people with a letter that read "...he's such a sweet little boy BUT, he's an imbecile. Please, help us..." The only thing that child did wrong was to be born.

In the densely packed streets of our metropolitan cities are increasingly growing number of beggars, most of whom are children. Sadly enough, when they were born, the only craft they were taught was BEGGING! My friend, NDU Daniel Success captured it better in the last two stanzas of his empathic poem,

"Where did I go wrong?
I have groomed a lying tongue

Or maybe
Just maybe
It's cos my mother
Turned me to a beggar"

*smh*

Last week, in a hostel that's not too from here, three girls were raped in their rooms. I wonder what detached comments we will submit this time, since they were not scantily dressed but jejely studying or 'jacking' as it's known here. They dare not say it out...we can't know them...for then, the stigma shall be worse that the act itself. A part if their person has been ripped. Silence and their hate for men is the only 'how' they now know. We don't care, not when she ain't our sis or bae.

Matthew(not real name) is a final year student in his early 20s. He's a straight A student.. He didn't play with sand. He didn't learn how to ride bicycle or motorcycle. He never played football or boju boju. He didn't have playmates. His peers called him soft. He is the only child and was always locked inside for protection. His cousins were his only friends. His parents so love him that they unknowingly stole the most crucial part of his growth - his CHILDHOOD! He'll be graduating this year, BUT he can't start or substain a simple conversation. He can't relate with the opposite sex. He's afraid of the future. He' trying so hard to get back his childhood. Everyone thinks he's annoying, so, anger towards the world is his resolve.

Damilara is the kind of girl whose beauty made a lasting impression. Yeah....she is damn fine. BUT she attended a public school where those that spoke simple English where termed 'forming'. So pidgin and a haggard grammar was all she was left with. She was shocked by the reality of University, everyone or almost everyone spoke the Queen's english. She has now turned to a quiet soul. Her esteem is battered. She no longer feels beautiful. Reclusion is now her only defence. She is still trying to recover.

In their song, T. Tribett, J. Moss and K. Franklin sang, "It could have been me". None might relate to you. Yours might be better or worse.  Anytime you want to wear that cloak of judgement, remember that it could have been you. It's still our duty to help our brothers and sisters. There's a story behind every act. Do you care to know? The late Stephen R. Covey put it this way, "seek first to understand and then be understood". 

What if you knew that the guy with HIV didn't not forget to use condom, but was born with it! 

What if you knew that your pregnant course mate was raped!

What if you knew that the reason he's carrying over so much courses is because his papers were missing!

What if he's not selfish, but just broke

What if...

To everyone who has been shortchanged in one way or the other, I pray you healing. Yes, we can all heal. None of our heart wounds has got diabetes...some are just deeper than others. LET GO and LET GOD heal thee. I hope you know that you are not alone! Reach out to someone, Don't let that scar go to waste!

THE VALLEY OF BROKEN DREAMS

Never again shall a single story be told  as though it's the only one.
- JOHN BERGER

I read recently that the average Nigerian child will want to be a doctor, accountant, lawyer, nurse, banker or engineer. One website refers to them as the most marketable courses. At first, I saw nothing wrong with this simple statement. In fact, I almost clapped. It was after I thought deep that I saw the lacuna it has made in our nation's health.

It started in primary school when the teacher will state, "If you want a Dr., Engr., Barr., Pharm., to come before your name, you better be serious. Or else, you will end up a farmer". Now, this was repeated for several years that it became impossible for pupils to see farming as anything but poverty and want. When any child was asked what they wanted to be when they grow up, it was normal to not hear them say police, teacher, chef, nutritionist, soil scientist, farmer, musician, soldier, artist.

This continued in secondary school as it was not rare to see hear blunderbuss teachers slaying statements like , "Udoh, you should be a doctor; BECAUSE you are very good in biology". "Amarama, maths comes easy for you, you should be an engineer". "Usman, I've seen the way you deal with numbers, you should fill in for accounting". God help you if the only course you are good at is agricultural science! Your portion of scorn Will be out of this world. We let our children graduate from 12 years of schooling with a faulty concept of career and value.

You still Wonder why almost all our young people are angry and irritable? Why there's halfhearted approach to public service? It's simple...broken dreams. The doctor really wanted to do business. The engineer seriously had the dream of becoming a research farmer. The agriculturist's mind was fixed on medicine.

Our society is crawling with young souls who either did not get what they wanted or got what they thought they wanted but later found out their heart beats for another.

What if those pupils our classrooms were told to study hard to become honourable doctors, engineers, lawyers and FARMERS? (agriculturists)?

What if Udoh was told that he needs good knowledge of biology to become a doctor or an ANIMAL SCIENTIST?

What if Amarama was taught that maths needed in Engineering and AGRICULTURE?

What if Usman was told that he needed his finesse be an accountant or an AGRICULTURAL ECONOMIST?

I hope the Education minister and school owners read this. Employ trained and compassionate counsellors in our primary and secondary schools.  It is sickening to note that public tertiary institution have such a department as GUIDANCE AND COUNSELLING but it's missing in public primary and secondary schools. So, I'm left to wonder, who needs the milk more? The forming child or the formed adult?

Mummies, daddies, guardians and teachers, teach our children that there are over 570 courses approved by NUC that can be studied in our institutions. Also, add that they can read anyone and still succeed!

And to all victims of broken dreams...heal and help posterity with your scar.

To all agriculturist, projections implies that by 2050 Nigeria population will rise to be over 500million. They will need food!

The future is green...I hope you can see!

...
This piece is the brainchild of a chat I had with Marvellous Osaji following the publication of my last post. This one is dedicated to you. Thank you for your suggestion dear.
...

WHAT ONLY DAVID KNEW

This harmattan is not honest at all. I thought it said it had left for good?
Well, that"s a matter for another day.

...
A man walked up to a concert pianist after hearing him play and said, "I'd give anything to play like you!". The pianist replied, "No, you wouldn't. Would you give 12hours a day to practice? Would you deny every other area of your life to excel at piano?"

Today, I reread one of my choicest Bible story; David vs Goliath. I should say that this story first came alive to me in those carefully coloured pages of My Book of Bible Story and later, in Sunday school. The story both won my naive mind and also satisfied my childish quest for a hero. It always tripped me to picture a tinkele (small) David shooting a smooth stone into the gigantic head of a 9ft Goliath.

While I have no doubt that this story need not be retold, allow me to show you something.

See this...

"Your servant has killed both the lion and the bear; and this uncircumcised Philistine will be like one of them..."
                                -1samuel 17:35

You see that? Even David had a Curriculum Vitae(CV). He made it clear to Saul that this was not going to be the first time he will defeating an intruder, he had done it twice before! Now, while everyone saw an oversabi boy trying to kill himself, David knew that the skill he had gotten from past practices would to come to use here!

I humbly disagree with anyone who thinks David got lucky. He earned his skills by practice.

I read one time that success is when opportunity greets preparation. No doubt, opportunity will knock soon, but will you be ready?  I'm still waiting to see, hear or read about a soul who succeeded by mistake.

The easiest way to get good at anything is practice. I know of no shortcut. It is not too late to start preparing for the future you've dreamt endlessly about. See ehn, stop all those 'it-is-too-late' song and start again today. You can choose to be anything and excel. Just practice enough. TDJakes remarked, "It is not so much about where you are going to as it is about what you are willing to give up to get there".

Do you want to be smarter? Brush up on your grammar? Write better? Read more? Talk less? Be friendly? What do you want? The solution is simple, continuous practice!  As the concert pianist replied, "can you...?"

 

As one of Nigeria's music mogul irritably said, "If it's the __________ you want, come and get it!" (You fill it).

...

THE ANIMAL SCHOOL

If you judge a fish by its ability to climb trees, it will live

 all its life thinking it's stupid - Albert Einstein

I'm sure growing up, you must have read that fascinating story; The Animal School by George H. Reavis. Well, If you have, biko, join me and reread. And if you've not, oya allow me to introduce it to you.

Let us read...

"Once upon a time the animals decided they must do something heroic to meet the problems of a "new world," so they organized a school.

They adopted an activity curriculum consisting of running, climbing, swimming, and flying. To make it easier to administer the curriculum, ALL the animals took ALL subjects.

The duck was excellent in swimming -- in fact, better than his instructor; but he made only passing grades in flying and was very poor in running. Since he was slow in running, he had to stay after school and also drop swimming in order to practice running. This was kept up until his web feet were badly worn, so then he was only average in swimming. But average was acceptable in school, so nobody worried about that except the duck.

The rabbit started at the top of the class in running, but he had a nervous breakdown because of so much make-up work in swimming.

The squirrel was excellent in climbing until he developed frustration in the flying class, where his teacher made him start from the ground up instead of the treetop down. He also developed "Charlie horses" from over-exertion and then got a "C" in climbing and a "D" in running.

The eagle was a problem child and was disciplined severely. In the climbing class he beat all others to the top of the tree, but insisted on using his own way to get there.

At the end of the year an abnormal eel that could swim exceedingly well and also could run, climb, and fly a little had the highest average and was named valedictorian.

The prairie dogs stayed out of school and fought the tax levy because the administration would not add digging and burrowing to the curriculum. They apprenticed their child to a badger and later joined the ground hogs and the gophers in order to start a successful private school"

In a planet where it is almost impossible to be you, a sin to be different, and a norm to conform; there's a foremost CALL for everyone to better our earth and ourselves by nurturing our uniqueness!