A (love) Poem in Igala

A lot of things catch my attention, but not so many as gripping as this. Here is a poem, written specially for the special lady in a young man's life on her birthday.

Ufẹdọmi Ufẹdomi Ufẹdọ wẹ dabi eli kiya chi odudu, Idabi omi kiya bẹdọ Alifya wẹ afanẹ dab'ochu Ufẹdọ wẹ arinyọ dabi omi inyọ Urẹdo mi Ukomu we arinyọ dab' ẹli omẹmẹlẹ, Ufanẹ wẹ dab' ochu, anyi we dab' eli. Na nwẹju wẹ enini kpai ọna. Ufẹli mi Ọlá nwu de mọmọlọ dab' ẹgẹ agbailo, Igo anya kima n'uchejun, unyọ kidẹ jalii, ẹdọ kim' wun. ali wẹ akpo dab' otulali amẹnẹfu, Emi Ufẹdọ i ad'ẹdẹbọ mi, Iya kwu dabi obo anyẹba, Iya rinyọ dabi abaro obo api. Wola ọdọ omune, Wọla ojile birthday wẹ enini.

Ohiemi Gabriel is a bard, political analyst and an information analyst at Projects Development Institute (PRODA). He holds a master degree in history and international studies from Nnamdi Azikiwe University, Awka.

His poetry is hugely inspired by vintage poets like Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, Pablo Neruda and of course the word "alchemist" Amu Nnadi. The Kogi born poet is a member of Enugu state literary Society and the lead rep of Poets in Nigeria (PIN) Enugu.

Phone: 07068183386 /07058311116

Book Review: The Torn Petal

The Tor Petal on display

Teresa Oyibo Ameh, author.

Book Review
The Torn Petal by Teresa Oyibo Ameh (Aunty Talatu)
Reviewed by: Ojonugwa Sapphire Abu

As seen through the eyes of a young teenager, The Torn Petal is a narrative of the experiences of Husseina spanning the period the horrors of terrorism claimed the land in which she grew up, the land she knew and loved, and some of the ripples these experiences leave on her entire existence in the aftermath.

Debunking the general misconception of ethno-religious intolerance in Northern Nigeria and Nigeria as a whole, Husseina and her siblings are born into an inter-religious marriage, a Christian father and a Muslim mother and they live happily, in a healthy, thriving environment, their family bound by love, respect and pure adoration.

The drums of the carnage and pain caused by the effects of terrorism are heard from faraway lands, first as whispered rumours, mentioned in passing but becoming a harsh reality that draws closer and closer, bringing in its wake death and loss, pain and misery. The reverberations of the music threatening to topple the essence of life as Husseina knows it.

Worse than the physical loss and pain is that which cannot be seen with the eyes. The psychological damage to the people, both young and old, from those wallowing in pain and fear in their homes to those, living with loss and fear as neighbours, as refugees on the IDP camp.

Faced with the choice of right and wrong and seeing nothing but a chance at survival, Husseina makes a decision that would change the course of her future forever. The little things she always took for granted became the cornerstone on which her survival depends.

This story stirs up in me a sorrow untold. Above the vivid pictures and images brought to life in my heart is the numbing pain settling in the bottom of my being. Anyone could be a victim, and those in the eye of the storm are there, not because of any lack of proper judgement or special sin but for circumstances beyond their control.

The story, written in present continuous tense and so carefully detailed in illustration captures the essence of the era and sheds light on the amount of creative control employed by the writer as such a tale, so potent in its semblance to reality, with the amount of emotions it evokes more words than can be writ, even in the largest of volumes.

The font size is large and catchy, engaging the target audience, and the volume of the book is sizable; light enough to be easily carried around and big enough to allow for the captivating illustrations.

I wish the story was a happy one, with an enduring happy ending, where no life was lost and the innocent children to whom the book is mainly targeted would not experience the horrors of such information, alas, this is the entire existence of some of their peers not just in Northern Nigeria but in many, war torn, ravaged regions, nations and communities in the world.

The story gives a subtle message in the undertones, that when the drums of war and disaster reach a land, it is usually not the strong or even the warring that are casualties, but the poor, the vulnerable, the 'Hassans' and 'Husseinahs'. Those who should enjoy our protection become the worst hit, nursing wounds, sometimes forever.

This book is totally rounded, educative, informative, nicely illustrated and sound.

I certainly recommend it for young readers as we should from an early age instill in the next generation the realities of cause and effect, and the impact of terror on the populace, in both the immediate and far future.

Dominance or nothing!

In the cold night of April 6, 1994, President Habyarimana was shot down. He was Hutu. The following day, annihilation of the Tutsis began. For 100 days, Tutsis were killed like cockroaches.

By the time Paul Kagame's led RPF took control, about a million Rwandans have been butchered. This constituted about 70% Tutsi population & 20% Rwandan population. It was genocide in the real sense of genocide.

But you see, the seed was sown as far back as 1959. The Hutu revolt of 1959 against colonial rule did not go down well with the Tutsis.
Before then, in 1916, Belgian colonists produced identity cards classifying Rwandans according to their ethnicity. The Tutsis welcomed the idea. For decades it was their ticket for juicy jobs, educational & political opportunities ahead of the Hutus. This turned out to be their greatest undoing in the winter of 1994.

What exactly powered Rwanda's genocide. Religion? Ethnicity? Political? Injustice? Or the innate desire to dominate ?
Hutus & Tutsis have many things in common - they speak same language ( Bantu ), same traditions, they inhabited same areas & about 90% are Christians, yet one sought to annihilate the other.

If you probe deeper, you'll realise that your beliefs, customs, & traditions are not as powerful as the quest for political power. Who cares about your religion & tribe when power is at stake.
Your religion & tribe can only be deployed as a means to an end. A mere tool for political power.

In 1987, IBB refused to prosecute Rev Bako & other participants after inciting the first major  religious crisis in Southern Kaduna that led to the slaughter of Muslims, Fulanis & destruction of many Mosques. IBB’s failure to prosecute was grave injustice. But it was not injustice against your religion or tribe. It was injustice against humanity. It was for political gain.

From 2011 - 2015, GEJ treated Boko Haram crisis with kid gloves. Many Churches were attacked, Christians were massacred, clergy men were slaughtered. Jonathan’s failure to act was grave injustice. But it was not injustice against your religion or tribe. It was injustice against humanity. It was for political gain.

Recently Herdsmen are on rampage across the country causing havoc under the watchful eyes of PMB without arrests. Under the same President, killers of Mrs.Bridget Agbajime were set free. PMB’s failure to act & prosecute is grave injustice. But it is not injustice against your religion or tribe. It is injustice against humanity. It is for political gain.

Posers on the killers of President Habyarimana remains unsolved;
1. Was it the work of Tutsi rebels bent on taking over power?
2. Was it the work of Hutu extremists under a pretext to annihilate the Tutsi minority?
3. Was it the work of a 5th Columnist bent on setting brothers at war for an unknown interest?

The outcome of these posers is not as important as the role of ordinary Rwandans from 1916 - 1994. The resentments, hatred, bigotry, intolerance, bias and narrow-mindedness along their tiny differences.

Similar resentments & bigotry besets Nigeria from 1960 to date.
At the end of the Rwandan carnage, the only point proven is that folly lies in the heart of the unwise.
Do we need a Rwanda to remind us of the evils of bigotry?
Rwanda survived in pieces. We may not be that lucky.


Writer:In the cold night of April 6, 1994, President Habyarimana was shot down. He was Hutu. The following day, annihilation of the Tutsis began. For 100 days, Tutsis were killed like cockroaches.

By the time Paul Kagame's led RPF took control, about a million Rwandans have been butchered. This constituted about 70% Tutsi population & 20% Rwandan population. It was genocide in the real sense of genocide.

But you see, the seed was sown as far back as 1959. The Hutu revolt of 1959 against colonial rule did not go down well with the Tutsis.
Before then, in 1916, Belgian colonists produced identity cards classifying Rwandans according to their ethnicity. The Tutsis welcomed the idea. For decades it was their ticket for juicy jobs, educational & political opportunities ahead of the Hutus. This turned out to be their greatest undoing in the winter of 1994.

What exactly powered Rwanda's genocide. Religion? Ethnicity? Political? Injustice? Or the innate desire to dominate ?
Hutus & Tutsis have many things in common - they speak same language ( Bantu ), same traditions, they inhabited same areas & about 90% are Christians, yet one sought to annihilate the other.

If you probe deeper, you'll realise that your beliefs, customs, & traditions are not as powerful as the quest for political power. Who cares about your religion & tribe when power is at stake.
Your religion & tribe can only be deployed as a means to an end. A mere tool for political power.

In 1987, IBB refused to prosecute Rev Bako & other participants after inciting the first major  religious crisis in Southern Kaduna that led to the slaughter of Muslims, Fulanis & destruction of many Mosques. IBB’s failure to prosecute was grave injustice. But it was not injustice against your religion or tribe. It was injustice against humanity. It was for political gain.

From 2011 - 2015, GEJ treated Boko Haram crisis with kid gloves. Many Churches were attacked, Christians were massacred, clergy men were slaughtered. Jonathan’s failure to act was grave injustice. But it was not injustice against your religion or tribe. It was injustice against humanity. It was for political gain.

Recently Herdsmen are on rampage across the country causing havoc under the watchful eyes of PMB without arrests. Under the same President, killers of Mrs.Bridget Agbajime were set free. PMB’s failure to act & prosecute is grave injustice. But it is not injustice against your religion or tribe. It is injustice against humanity. It is for political gain.

Posers on the killers of President Habyarimana remains unsolved;
1. Was it the work of Tutsi rebels bent on taking over power?
2. Was it the work of Hutu extremists under a pretext to annihilate the Tutsi minority?
3. Was it the work of a 5th Columnist bent on setting brothers at war for an unknown interest?

The outcome of these posers is not as important as the role of ordinary Rwandans from 1916 - 1994. The resentments, hatred, bigotry, intolerance, bias and narrow-mindedness along their tiny differences.

Similar resentments & bigotry besets Nigeria from 1960 to date.
At the end of the Rwandan carnage, the only point proven is that folly lies in the heart of the unwise.
Do we need a Rwanda to remind us of the evils of bigotry?
Rwanda survived in pieces. We may not be that lucky.


Writer credits: Joel Akagwu
Economist.
Relationship Manager at First Bank PLC.

New Beginnings

Just start
The most difficult thing about starting afresh is starting afresh. So many times, challenges that come around are curve-balls, they come right back! Want to start a new business? Or a new relationship?
The future is ahead not behind
Quit looking over your shoulder, take that step and never forget what is most important, learn something.
I started
Recently, I took up a writing job. I did it for the street credibility, I always wanted to be a respected writer. Who can blame me, people are good in different things, I am good at writing. It seemed like a great opportunity, but it turned out to be more difficult and time consuming than I expected.
It's been a few months down the line and I must say, the experience has been good. Still time consuming and brain wracking (who would have thought?) but fulfilling.
I have researched on various fields and subjects and I have learned a great deal. I feel like a citizen of the world. I see world issues from the eyes of the world. I am more rounded.

Few tips to starting afresh...

Desire more: Feeling discontent could be a pointer to the fact that you want something new and different. In some cases, it seems like an impossible feat but if you put your mind to it, you discover that it comes easy.
Try to correct the wrongs of the past: You can only try. Sometimes we find that the grass has turned brown because we failed to water it. Water your grass, that may be all you need to see the change you desire.
Just do it: Small sure steps are the way in some cases buy brash giant strides may be your own way. Make changes, small or big and decide to stick with the consequences.

An African Proverb says, "the best time to plant that palm tree was twenty years ago, the next best time is now."

Every new day is an opportunity to make your life count, Start today. You just might find that there is more to you and your abilities than you imagined.


Nugwa Abu

Nigerian polity: My people...

 

The political terrain was just beginning to get exciting, I even envisioned myself running for some office, for the fun and/or to make a mark. That was about 3 years ago.

The last political run however brought brought my doubts to the surface. We used to be a nation brought together by our differences and bonded by our diversity. All that came to an end. The entity called Nigeria was divided through and through. The dividing lines stood out, obvious and thick.

A particular instance stands out in my subconscious. I remember how we totted back and forth, from our house to theirs and back to ours as a child. During the religious crisis in Kaduna in the 80's we would huddle together and pray for respite. We would share whatever food we had when the supply went down. Yakubu was like a brother. he was like a member of our family. Towards the end of the last administration however everything changed. It started when Boko Haram was at the peak of strikes and activity. For every church that was burnt down he had a jubilant and scalding threat to Christians scrawled on all his pages on social media. He went on and on in his verbal fight against everything not Islamic. The insults transferred to the Office of the President of Nigeria. Everyone not in the same 'political camp' as he degenerated to insulting the person and the office of the President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria.

Most of us engaged in this war of words, war of hate and profanity and we felt nothing wrong. We all took it in stride. We paid no mind to the fact that the last election was conducted and based on our differences rather than our unity. The results showed ethnic division, religious division, further division.

The social media was a war zone. Northerners insulting the southerners and being insulted in return. Verbal religious wars were fought without end, hate and enmity grew to unbelievable levels, and we felt nothing.

Today however the electorate is singing a new song. Elections are over and the office holders are back behind their tight security and their contact numbers unreachable. Some members of the electorate are still campaigning and some complaining. We have to wind down our tastes because of the waste and carelessness of our leaders, the same people that lead today, and rather than pick the bone with they that have robbed us, we continue to fight ourselves.

Our leaders can afford to send their children to school in Ivy league Universities because our own schools are rundown with gross mismanagement and we do not care. We would rather fight ourselves. The Central Bank Of Nigeria recently employed the children of the political class to fill positions meant for Nigerian graduates and Nigerians (opposition) cried foul. 

Why cry? These children of the political class are also Nigerians. They have been to the best Universities in the world and have the best results you can imagine. While we had to deal with the lack of power supply in our school days, they were plagued with what chef to order lunch from. Does it matter if the money used to pay their school fees is from the accumulation of the wages owed your parents? Owed you?

No. What matters is that we tear ouselves down and the one with the vilest team wins. The one who can churn up the most insults in the shortest time is the winner that takes all. The children of the people that robbed our parents are coming to rob us and we, rather than fight for the future and destiny of our children divide ourselves along the lines of acronyms and kill each other.

At the end of the day, we are not PDP or APC, not SDP or NRC, not Catholic or Lutheran, Not Sunnis or Shi'ite. We are all children of God. We are Nigerians. We have only one home. We can decide what we want. To forever remain unpaid or underpaid slaves of the political class or to be a unit that faces and overcomes whatever challenges we face. We can decide.

-Ojonugwa Sappjire Abu

Ready or not

'We are gathered at this funeral ceremony and many of us think that this ceremony is held for the dearly departed, no, it is not for him, Moses is up there, singing with the angels, this ceremony is not for him, it is for us.
Each one of us seated here is qualified to die. We are qualified to depart from this earth, from our bodies like our brother here, the question is who is next?
How ready are you for the life that does not end?'

3/10/15

As we hurry around hustling and trying to get rich and famous we must bear it in mind that there is a common destiny for all men, a destination from which all the gold in India cannot buy passage back to this life.
We ought to live prepared, not out of fear but out of faith.

Have a blessed week, live ready.


-Ojonugwa Sapphire Abu

Dear Child

Dear Child,

On your journey you will find out these truths

When you want to launch out, just do it

There’s nothing really holding you back, nothing but yourself

The mountains that seem insurmountable, they exist,

But in your mind

Remember child,

All that you need for the journey

For the high times and the low times, for all times

You already have them, they have been given to you

Nothing, not anything should hold you back

Listen to that voice, listen to your heart

When the noise and chaos seems to drown you

To warp out the strength that is your faith,

Listen.

For the direction you need is just a breath away

Look inwards, listen inwards.

To the still small voice, to your heart,

For there you will find all the answers and by faith move

For if you do not move, faith does not work.

Nothing can stand in your way,

Nothing but you.

Ojonugwa Sapphire Abu

In loving memory...

 In loving memory of my best friend, a friend like no other
 Ojoma Idajili- Adejo Moses

I do not know why she decided to be my friend.  We were different, different is just the word. She decided to see the awesomeness in me and be there for me at all times. We grew up on each other over time, became inseparable but the time was so short.

I remember some of the secrets we shared, she knew my deepest secrets and I hers. When all we dreamt of was meeting Prince Charming and falling in love in the sweetest of ways, we both experienced that.

We had big expectations for sex too. I remember her ‘waiting’. Waiting for that one perfect person. We had all these grand fantasies about actually ‘doing it’. Those were the good old days.

I remember Ojoma tagging along with me in my secret quest to satisfy my carnivorous needs. My siblings repeatedly say I was switched up at birth with a Tiv couples’ child hence my love for beef. (Meat-eater is the Igala word for the Tiv people) They say I started eating beef before I started drinking water. She never judged me.

Ojoma never judged my anti-social nature, she never judged my cynicism, she just loved me. Yes she knew I was anti-social and cynical but she loved me all the same. I loved her too, she knew I loved her.

My best friend is just a memory now. My best friend is in past tense, my best friend is dead. All I have with me are the sweet sweet memories of the girl that selflessly loved a cynical, unfriendly me. My Ojoma is gone. I feel honoured I had such a glory as my best bud.

She was all about life, celebrating every birthday, hanging out and having fun. I remember one birthday party she made me organise, I invited everyone I knew for the party, that was half the town or more! On the said day Ojoma said that funds were yet to arrive. We did the party somehow. I stole my mother’s chicken, Ojoma stole her mother’s chicken, I made some kind of fruit punch with zobo leaves, baked a cake and iced it, wonder of all wonders, the icing was really nice. The party was a huge success. I remember how we threw back out heads and laughed after the party, I remember our mumbled responses when we were quizzed about the whereabouts of Ojoma’s mother hen.

The next year, I declined to organize the party, I even did not attend. I could hear the music blaring but I did not show up till after the party.  Ojoma was not angry with me. In retrospect, I would have organised that party, I would have organised every birthday party for me dear friend. In retrospect…

Ojoma decided to follow me to my village for my father’s burial, for my traditional wedding, even I did not want to go to the village. My village is faaar, even I don’t go there as frequently. She even made matching clothes and all.  I can go on and on, the story will never end. She was just a rare gem.

My dear Ojoma left behind her loving husband and two kids. The honeymoon was not even over before my bestie died.

For the first time since I started writing, I experienced writers block. I had so much to pen but I couldn’t control my body to do my bidding. I am writing this now.

In loving memory of my friend among friends, I wish I deserved your friendship more, I wish I was a better friend, I wish we had many more years to just chill and have a nice time and celebrate all that is life. I take solace in the fact that we will meet at Jesus’ feet. We will groove every day, we will celebrate every minute in style, in pomp, with joy. Sandalili, I meant it every time I called you my love, I meant every nice thing I did for you I meant it when I said I wished I could do more and I meant it every time I told and did not tell you thank you for being there. You were a friend among friends. You will never be forgotten.

On baby mamas and side chicks

1. I heard the rumour almost eight years ago that 5 girls were expecting babies for Tuface Idibia, the reigning Nigerian musical legend. I was quite shamefaced, as a budding feminist that was all about the dignity of the 21^st century woman but I guess I was alone.

Eight years down the line, the trending phrase is ‘baby-mama’! What in the name of God is baby mama? Of course it started in Hollywood, with the sad exes of famous people getting public attention for all the wrong reasons (eg, Black Chyna, Amber Rose etc) and Nigerians got on the trend train thanks to Linda Ikeji blog and her cohorts (I respect Linda a lot, she is an icon). The concept of baby-mamaism was gold plated and pedestalised and every other day another Nigerian baby mama was unveiled.

2. My favourite Nigerian artist Flavour, the Igbo dude with the bod, had a baby-mama, a real Princess from a royal family, as fair as the morning sun, and all the rave was about her till she had the baby. Then came the next baby-mama, a beauty queen at the peak of her life/career. Baby-mama number 2 has just been delivered of a most beautiful daughter, no ring, no vows, rather back and forth banters about who the main chick is amidst rumours of a new romance brewing.

3. Neyo, my favourite R/b artist, on whose voice I had a huge crush (till I saw a picture of him without his hat) was the rave of many ladies in my time. He had a baby-mama who had two lovely children for him and they both decided she have a tubal ligation (tying or blocking of the fallopian tubes to prevent future pregnancy). I mean, that was deep, till he broke up with her and had another baby-mama on the way, who he is planning to walk down the aisle (after she puts to bed of course). In a recent development, he rained down a tirade of flaming words on everyone who thought or felt that it was unfair to the first baby mama and claimed that all that was important was his happiness. This was on twitter, for the whole world to see!

4. Let’s not mention more of these, the list is inexhaustible…

Who is a baby mama? The main/side chick that decides to have a baby for a guy whom she is dating even though he doesn’t see the need to put a ring on it, most times in hopes that she will be his main/only chick.

For a feminist, this whole definition and terminology is both disgusting and condescending. In this generation of the ‘power woman’ it is a major disgrace.

I know a number of women who are single mothers. Strong, dignified and to be applauded for their decision to be moms against all odds and the concept of baby-mamaism puts their efforts and sacrifice to shame.

It’s really fresh when ladies claim that marriage is overrated and the in thing is to have a child to love and hold but it becomes embarrassing to feminists like me when they start fighting and dragging with the side/main chick of the baby daddy. It punches holes on all the independent woman claims.

If the guy can go unscathed to his next relationship or marriage, how come, the lady, who will be the one to suffer the hormonal changes for two years or more, who has to battle with weight gain and body image, who gets to be at the butt of judgmental fingers pointing at her and labeling her doesn’t give a thought to this?

I had a lot of crazy lady friends back in the day and I know for sure that the craziest and naughtiest of  young girls back in the day are the most settled as wives today, this really gets me thinking, when did this concept of side chicking, baby-mamaing become a norm? Its un-African and it just makes my job as a feminist difficult unnecessarily.

This is the dating formula of self-respect. Date, court, wed, bed, become a parent. Alternately, quietly have your baby and raise him/her like royalty. Definitely not bed, baby-mama, bitch at the next baby mama etc, its painful to watch.

I expect a lot of backlash, most of the lashers however would be married mothers. I’ll tell you this in advance, if baby-maming was such a cool idea, why are you respectfully married? Why aren’t you chasing the guy and his present girlfriend about like Amber Rose and Black Chyna were, making a mockery of yourself?

credits; ojonugwa sapphire abu