African teacher

I never be late, I always early
I never absent I always present
That's why I and I nah sit down inna no back bench
Natty like to be bright, bright, bright
So bright, bright, bright, bright
So bright
-Burning Spear.

I was one of those “over-sabi” children in primary school. I liked to sit at the front, I loved to learn and like a sponge, I would soak every single thing my teachers said. The need to always know, that curiosity, was cultivated in primary school. Every day, we had so many new things to learn. The teachers knew every single one of us by name and I remember many occasions when my young mind would be worried at the presence of a teacher in my home. They would sit and discuss about my grades, areas of improvement and my potential. I loved all my teachers. The science teacher made our eyes big with her different experiments (now that I look back, I cannot ever imagine that I was once amazed by the colors “a starchy material” produced). Our Art teacher taught us to make paper marches, collages, and we spent so many happy hours playing with clay. The mathematics teacher taught us how to read the time by asking us to make clocks, mine was the best of course! Made out of white card board paper, I still remember it, so vividly too. The French teacher taught us the national anthem in French and made us write our very own French play. My part was a buyer who on seeing all her wares screams “beaucoup de chose!” The Urhobo teacher also taught us the national anthem and pledge in Urhobo but he got a bit carried away by asking the girls to kneel while greeting him, in the traditional Urhobo way. The library master, who was also the P.E teacher, made us “skip” and run, jump, and we could play “ten-ten” too. I think he was a bit partial to football though, because all he ever wanted to do was have a football match, every single day. The most fun class was home-economics. Oh what fun we had! We made batik, tie and dye, we did embroidery, sew aprons and hand bags, entered competitions, made chin-chin, puff-puff and cakes. My all time favorite teacher though, was my English teacher. We read so much and spent so many hours coming up with good points for our different “debate” subjects. She encouraged me to read and never laughed at my writings. Instead, she gravely corrected mistakes and suggested ways for improvement. She was my favorite teacher because she allowed me to be me or is it because of all those sweets?

You all think I went to some fancy school right? Maybe one of those international schools or Private schools in Lagos? Wrong. I attended a primary school in Warri, Delta state. How can that be, you may ask? Well, I’ll tell you. I was one of those fortunate children that attended school during the time when teachers were still being paid their salaries. They could take care of the rent and their families so they did their jobs. They came to school and gave us their hearts and souls because they were not hungry. Their children were not hungry, so they taught us everything they knew. These days, I often hear people lamenting about the state of our schools. They are all right, it is dreadful and a shame. However, there is no human being that can give 100% on any job when their future is not secure. Many teachers in Nigeria now have to resort to farming or petty trading to ensure the survival of their families. Those are the ones that still try to live with the little dignity they have left. Many others, no longer care. Their dignity has been thrown out when hunger came calling and have now joined the band wagon of bribery and corruption which is not surprising considering the fact that many of them have not been paid for months and frankly speaking, that they still turn up for work is a miracle in itself.

We have the brains in Nigeria. We have so many good teachers that can ensure that our children get the best in life, but it is not going to happen. You know why? I will tell you the truth: A hungry man is an angry man and until teachers start being paid properly in this country, the education system is going to remain in the dumps. A lot of great minds are going to be lost to “business” and that captivating new world of “bankers”. The losers are the children.

The impact of a teacher in a child’s life cannot be underestimated. They do as they see. When you have corrupt and hungry teachers, ready to sell their selves for money, I assure you, you are raising corrupt and hungry children, ready to do sell their selves too, for money.

Do not let us lose great minds in this country….PAY THE TEACHERS!

P.S: Una don find dat una plane wey una dey look for? 2 weeks never pass? Na wah oh! Meanwhile dat health committee wey go school for Ghana, shebi na study una say una use that 10 million do? Oya, make una publish the report with all of una findings na, dis one wey una know book pass anything!

Time to let go

My people, I have been thinking. Do you remember a time when we had a subject called “current affairs” in primary school? I think it was a part of social studies. Anyway, I was just thinking of all those big names we had to memorize as past leaders of our dearly beloved country. If I am not mistaken, Obasanjo was one of them. It may pain you all to know that I was a child then when I first heard that name. Yes, that’s how time flies! I am a fully grown adult now and still, I have to hear or read about this name in 2008. I am sick of that name and all the other names that won’t just fade away. Haba! E never reach una? The whole thing is like eating akamu everyday or soaking garri everyday….which some people actually do in this country.

There comes a time in every parent’s life when they have to leave the child to walk. The crawling child must eventually learn to walk, without the support of tables, chairs or worrying mothers. So it seems the time has come for our grand parents and parents to let Nigeria go. Nigeria is no longer yours; you have done what you can. Good or bad, the country is how you have “raised it” to be. However, this country does not belong to you anymore. You have done what you can; you have seen the progress with your own eyes. Why are you still hanging on? For what are you still hanging on? Another generation awaits its turn, yet you block our ways with tricks and huddles. You frustrate us at every turn. What would you like to see? To see us give up? Like the crawling child whom you have refused to let walk, you would like Nigeria to crawl on. Perhaps become handicapped in the process? Yet, you know it is time for a change, you feel it in the air; you know that you cannot hold on forever.

Your time has come and gone, all knowledge you have, you have given. There is no more for you to do. It is time to let go.

P.S: This country ehn! I don talk am say na only if you get strong head you fit survive… or you fit become psykia case. Choose one. Anyway, as una see, that labour man don show everybody say you must to stubborn pass mule for dis country. You must to struggle, argue, vex self, but you must never give up. So, make I join everybody else congratulate our Edo brother wey carry im case go court come test dis our “rule of law” yarns. No be God we thank? and after all dis wahala, I wan see serious things dey happen oh! Especially dat una road for dat side, chei! Last time na so I fall enter dat una red poto poto, my fine white dress just spoil finish! Anyway, after una build the road finish, if money remain, make una compensate dat my dress. Thanks in advance.

waffywaffarian@yahoo.com

For this season

Once upon a time, many Easters ago, I was an innocent child without any knowledge of the grave importance religion held in the society. To me, the best part of every Sunday, was the mornings on the way to church. It was then, that I got to sit in the front sit of my father’s battered (but oh! so loved) Peugeot 504 and made very important decisions like which newspaper we should read for the day. There were always so many papers to choose from and sometimes we got them all, because we could never decide. We also bought petrol, “lucky bread” and if I had been really good, I got to buy “butter mints” and “tomtom” for my brothers and sisters. The rest part of the day, “the church part” was basically an intrusion in my very tight schedule of Sunday activities. There was always so much to do; there was “ten-ten”, “suwe”, “police and thief” “plucking ebelebor” and other very important games with the neighborhood children. I enjoyed my observation post in church since all I ever had to do was sit quietly, make up stories in my head and wait until the service was over.

All this was about to change one Sunday when Thomas visited our home. You see, Thomas was “one of Daddy’s people”. This simply meant he was one of those people that could call at any time of the day. He could eat breakfast, lunch and dinner and still call the next day. He needed no excuse to visit, because he was from the same village as my father. Thus, he was “one of Daddy’s people”. I peeped from my hideout behind my father’s chair as Thomas informed my father that he thought it was time I and my brother started attending catechism classes to prepare us for “holy communion”. What! How dare he intrude on my care-free church participation? I was perfectly happy just sitting. I had seen the lines of sober people standing for communion, and watched their lips moving as they confessed and prayed for contrition. They always seemed to be in pain and I did not want to be part of whatever pain they all seemed to be going through. I ran with this terrible information to my brother whose own afternoons were spent playing football. His new fixation then was the Brazilian mid-fielder “Zico” and even wore a Brazilian jersey with the number “10” printed on the back. The news however meant nothing to him, as he bounced his ball up and down. In fact, he seemed to be happy about the recent development. I realized later on, that the football field was right next to the proposed venue of the catechism classes, and my brother spent many happy hours on the field instead of in a stuffed classroom.

That summer, the world of religion was opened to me and left me asking more questions than I thought were possible. Some were answered and some were not. Some, I am still asking after so many years. You could say, that care-free innocent view of the world was lost….forever….and I blame Thomas.

As we all celebrate at this time of the year, Christians and Muslims, I pray that we all find in our hearts, those times of innocence when we were able to see beyond the confines of our churches or mosques. May it be a time for compassion and love to our fellow brothers and sisters but most of all, please Lord, do something about this country. Amen.

P.S: Those of you serving starch and banga soup, please feel free to invite me at waffywaffarian@yahoo.com

Happy Easter!

It takes a fool to remain sane

So, this week, it has been discovered that a citizen of this county had a pipeline, used for smuggling crude oil, running directly into his home. A private citizen like you and me. Nothing special about this man at all, he does not have two heads and neither was he born on a special day. He was born on an ordinary day, in an ordinary month. The only thing that makes this man so special is that he was born in Nigeria. Yes, only in Nigeria can such a thing happen. Only in Nigeria can a private citizen “steal” crude oil from a refinery without the refinery or the government’s knowledge.

Yesterday, I performed an experiment. I went into the home of a neighbour and stole a bottle of normal cooking oil, vegetable oil to be precise. Do you think my neighbour did not notice? Within an hour, my phone was blasted with calls and texts. Of course my neighbour knew that a bottle of oil had gone missing even though it was just a small bottle. Now, please, can somebody, explain to me how in the world a pipeline of crude oil is connected to a man’s house without anybody’s knowledge? How is that possible? I repeat again, a pipeline? Where else but Nigeria could such a thing happen? Where else but Nigeria will we be proud to announce to the world that we have caught “a pipeline thief”?

It seems that there are thieves and there are thieves. In Nigeria, greed is insatiable. The hunger for money is insatiable. It is never enough. Even if we have enough money to last a couple of generations, we want more. Yet, this is the same country where almost everybody you meet is either a born again Christian or a devout Muslim. Forget about the pagans, they do not exist except in Nollywood. So it seems we all have the fear of God in us.

Our appetite for money is drowning this country. We are the laughing stock of the world because we cannot control ourselves. Everything has to be in excess. The cars have to be jeeps when you know very well how narrow and congested our roads are. The houses have to be mansions so it can be seen from far and wide when you know very well they are huts at the turn of the corner. The fabrics have to be strong and heavy when you know the ferocity of our sun. Nothing is ever done in moderation. Just like every project we embark on, we manage to cause wastage and spillage.

Nevertheless, we turn a blind eye everyday to these things. Just like I have never figured out who throws dirt on the road (it cannot be the Christians because “cleanliness is next to Godliness” and definitely not the Muslims since they wash five times a day and the pagans do not exist), we shall all live with the ridiculous situation in this country and once in a while, say “God dey” or “It is well”. We shall pretend that it is possible for a private citizen to connect a pipeline to his home and we shall also pretend that we have a great police force who managed to make this discovery after months of underground work and investigation.

P.S: To borrow the words of Patrick Obahiagbon, the Edo state representative in the National assembly, you all should stop “big stouting”, “suyaing” and “peppersouping” and get to work. The security problem in this country is out of control. Whose mother, wife or sister has to be raped by an armed robber before something is done? Whose baby has to be shot at close range before something is done? People are suffering and yet their cries seem to be falling on deaf ears. It is only a matter of time before people start taking matters into their hands. Abeg, I don tire.

waffywaffarian@yahoo.com

Embarrassing!

My people! The tory wey I get for una today, no be small thing oh! In fact, wey I read the thing I no know whether to laugh or cry. Na so, I just dey mind my business one early evening wey my friend Chris come give me one kain unbelievable story! I swear, remain small I for rak the guy, but as I take my own eye see the thing, I no even fit talk again.

Our very own Goodluck Jonathan (bros, how na? I salute oh!) seems to think that the power situation in Nigeria is “embarrassing”. Why, you may ask….is it because millions of people all over Nigeria have to wear rumpled clothes to work every day? No. Is it because tailors and saw-mill owners all over the country have all lost their customers, gone bankrupt and are now no longer contributing to the economy? No. Is it because Doctors and nurses all over the country have lost patients in the middle of operations when power fails? No. What more then, you ask? Is there anything more embarrassing that all of the above mentioned? Yes, my people, it seems, believe it or not, there is.

According to our one and only Goodluck Jonathan, the fact, that there was power failure in the middle of a meeting (held at Sheraton international hotel) is very “embarrassing”. Embarrassing ke? You don’t say? Which country are you living in? Millions of people have been living with this so called “embarrassment” for as long as they were born. The younger generation (not all those ajebutter silverbird children oh! I know some of them are not even aware that there is something called “power failure”) are experts at when they will be light. Ask any young boy in Warri, with precise calculations, he will tell you if there is any need to “hope” for light on a certain day. It goes like this: “light? Today? Let me see…two weeks ago, on a Thursday we had light for two hours….wait…then last week, we had light for one hour….ehhhhh, we might, if they don’t give it to the other area…well, pray sha, maybe”.So my dear Jonathan(may I call you Johnny?), my dear Johnny boy, the word to use in this country when it comes to our light/electricity/power issues is not “embarrassing” or “upsetting” or “uncomfortable”, the word you should have used is TRAGEDY. Yes, that’s a very good word for what is happening in this country. I am tired of everybody sugarcoating our problems with nice little English words, let’s go wild here, why not DISASTER? It is only when the government sees the reality of the situation that they can ever hope to solve the problems.

P.S: To the Governor that refused to open a hospital for more than two years, because he was waiting for the president to come and “cut ribbon”. Shebi you see yaself now? Now, wey the people come vex anyhow, burn the thing go ground, una dey make noise? Una suppose don open that hospital long time ago even before dem paint am self, instead una dey wait make dem come cut ribbon!

Abeg, next time, if na to cut ribbon, no waste time, just call me sharp sharp, even if I no get scissors, I for use razorblade!

waffywaffarian@yahoo.com

Made in China vs. Made in Nigeria

Note: The issues discussed in the below article is for the common man alone. If you buy your shoes, clothes and bags from “boutique” and “abroad”, take no notice of this article.

Shinkpa! Na dat kain sound my sandal make wey the thing cut for road. To say the truth, I was not surprised. I knew the day was fast approaching, after all it had “made in China” written on it. I blamed myself for buying it. I could have gone to the “Ibo market”, (that “g” for “Igbo” dey miss for our waffy pronunciation) near main market to buy it but it was getting late and I wanted to get back to Effurun on time so I bought “made in China” and now it has happened. I know all these big women in Abuja will be surprised, abeg my sisters, life is hard jare, we cannot afford “Jimmy Choo” and “Manolo Blahnik”, some of us actually go around without any label on our shoes, talk less of designer! Anyway, the Ibo market in Warri has served me well over the years, especially my teenage years, when all I wanted in my whole life was a pair of designer jeans. Everybody in Lagos was wearing them, and so I believed and was so sure it was a necessity in my young life. Nobody was going to spend such a ridiculous amount on jeans and especially not in Warri where the most anybody would say, would be “dis jeans get as e be! Na bend down pick you go”? So, with my meager resources, I found my way to the Ibo market where the boys listened with great sympathy to my plight. After a lot of describing and explaining, Ugo, right there on his table, drew the most perfect imitation of my dream jeans. The next week saw me leaving Ibo market with not one pair, but three different pairs of jeans in black, red and blue. It was one of my most satisfied moments in my adolescent life.

These days, our markets are flooded with Chinese products, shoes, bags, clothes, you name it and the Chinese have it. We have to buy them, we say, the poor man has no choice. So with eyes wide open, we buy shoes we know will fall apart in a week or two. If it is the dry season, we might be lucky to get a couple of months out of the shoe. If it is the rainy season, then we know, two days of hopping from one okada to another will “kill” the shoe. Yet, we are not worried; we throw it away, get on okada to the nearest market and buy the next “made in China”.

Now, that is all well and good if we had no choice, but we do have one. We have our own “China” in Nigeria. We have our own boys whose skills and talents will match any Chinese any day, any time. Why do we not support our own? What is the Chinese offering that our people cannot do? Before the Chinese remembered Africa, was the poor man not making do with our own “made in Onitsha” products? All of a sudden, these products are too “inferior” for us. We look down on the products that have served us well when we had nothing. I am sure some of you would deny it, no, you have never bought “Aba made”, well, shame on you! When will we learn to be proud of our own? When will we learn to support our own? We import goods by the hundreds when we have the skills and manpower here? We help another country with its economy and deny our own country that right?

The Chinese have no shame putting “made in China” on their products, yet we are so ashamed of our own products that we rather leave it without any label or better still, write another country’s name. What kind of country is ashamed of its own people? What kind of people are we that we rather buy the products made in another country than to buy our own? Shame on us!

waffywaffarian@yahoo.com

Democracy ke?

Do not tell me we have democracy in this country, you may call our system anything you like but please do not insult my intelligence by calling it democracy. I may not have studied “government” in secondary school and neither did I study “political science”, but I always knew this line, as millions of people across the world: “A government of the people, by the people, for the people”. This is what I have always thought democracy to be. I know my fellow waffarians will be laughing hysterically by now; their common expression would be “na who dash us?” My people, nobody “dashed” us, we do not have such a government and therefore, we cannot claim to have democracy. Now, I know some positive people and optimists out there might take offence to such a statement, thus, I have tried, very simply, to break it down.

Now, except I have become blind, I do not see any government of the people. If anybody knows of any minister, senator, governor, that you have rubbed shoulders with on buses, or seen on okadas in the last twenty years, please inform me. The people in the government are not even from our world….they watch CNN and BBC, play golf, and polo. Polo ke? Ah! You are wondering what polo is, you see yourself? Poor man no good oh! Let me continue, they drink champagne and eat hors d’oeuvres (no ask me wetin hors d’oevres mean, na “starter”, I know say una no dey chop dat kain thing, but rich people dem, dem like to tease their tongue first, before the main food go land, na the best explanation I get) they have weekend escapes in Dubai and New York, and have helicopter rides and boat cruises….have you ever done any of that? Are those the kind of people you move around with everyday? Ehen, now you see what I am talking about, they are people of course, but they are not OF you.

A government by the people....this one…na wa. I do not even know where to start here, anybody that voted in the last elections would tell you the insanity that was the elections. Area boys, weapons, missing ballot boxes, closed centers…it was chaos, or as those oyibo people go call am “irregularities”. All in all, they were not fair, and except you count the area boys, the winners were not voted by the people. End of story.

Let us take the next point, FOR the people: I do not need to look too far, our senate is the perfect example. These ones have not yet realized that they are ONLY representatives for their people. In their minds, they think they are there to serve themselves and carry out personal crusades. Some of them do not even know why they are there or how they got there in the first place. Tell me how these people are supposed to serve the people when they are not even aware of “which” people they are supposed to serve? It is no wonder our madam dared to propose such a ridiculous bill and it is no wonder that such a bill is going on to its second reading. Yet, bear in mind, that in all that has been happening, the people have spoken, but please ignore us, carry on with a personal vendetta that has nothing to do with the wishes of the people, after all, we do not have democracy in this country.

Right now, we are all trying to agree on what “transparency” means, after that, we are going to find out what “accountability” means, and then we still have to figure out what the “rule of law” means. The last one is a very tricky thing indeed, devised by our current president; it will go down in history as the phrase that had so many meanings that meant nothing.

P.S: Shebi una know say Ibori still dey outside? Just in case una don forget…..

waffywaffarian@yahoo.com