RAINY REVELATIONS
The sun’s gloss
Upon our city
Hides her flaws
Leaving its beauty
Without due company
Before an audience
Observing an entity
Halved by the seasons
In summer
The street glitters
under darting sunrays
Even our sun-baked highways
ignore pity
for the sun’s beauty
But when the rain comes
anxious moms
make mud-splashing runs
to save their young ones
Even drivers learn to sail
as driving skills alone fail.
Cup-shaped drainages
fill to bursts
Talk of sewages
and dream of the worst
Loads of filth turned in
pose and toss
on new rivers running
across streets and closes
So our maps lie
but we know why.
A TRUE REBRAND
Like a tongue
Deprived of the teeth’s company
It lay sprawled
Like it could do no wrong
It wore a smile serene
And a demeanour so sane
That made me doubt
If indeed I had reached it
But I had
And pleasantly invincible
Were its struggling millions
Its surging unapproved kiosks
Its maddening buses
And shifty hands stealing purses
Also happily lost
Was its love for confusion
So like an old man
Tired of his wicked ways
Oshodi watched with disinterest
My daring regal strides
That once drew its ire
Oshodi lay passive
Divorced from its devious spirit
That hitherto fed me fear
Seasoned with courage
and bravery spiced with caution
That old Oshodi
Also taught me to rejoice
every single day I
walked past it
without being pinched
by its ever untraceable claws.
THEIR CRIES, THEIR LIES
When filled with bread
In their homestead
They send us mails
To invoke our wails
Wherein they assume
That our lot is doom
One doom report
Lures financial support
To self-appointed experts
Who dished out false alerts
Collecting aids on our behalf
And magnanimously give us half
Our senses are not too weak
To perceive their trick
But we’ll make things right
Rather than fight
We will search for that will
To correct our many an ill
We have a vision
To back our rebuilding mission
The past may be unpalatable
The present just endurable
But things will get better
In a future not too far
We refuse to be discouraged
By preying nations who have aged
And now spread mails of doom
To nations where they seek room
For their chauvinist ego
That just wont let go.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
JUST BEFORE THE TURN
As Nigerians and Africans, we are currently at a bend in the journey of our nation and by extension our individual lives. The current wave blowing across the length and breadth of the nation and even beyond the shores of this continent bears only one burden, that of change. From motivational writers like Myles Munroe and Fela Durotoye to frontline pastors like Pastor Matthew Ashimolowo and Pastor Chris Okotie without leaving out leaders like Presidents John Atta Mills of Ghana and Barack Obama of the USA, the grand essence of their messages revolve around the imminent change in the fortunes of Nigeria, Africa and indeed the whole world. It has been repeatedly and convincingly reiterated that from Africa will arise men(and women) who will change the fortunes of the world and an acceptable example of that is the recent change in the political calculations of the most powerful country in the world, the United States of America where a charismatic black man of African descent rose from the shackles of relative oblivion and overcame the daunting odds of racial discrimination to rise to the exalted position of the dignified occupant of the hallowed White House, the greatest power house in the world. This might sound inspiring but there is definitely more to come.
The kind of change being anticipated for the Nigerian nation and the African continent is an obviously visible and powerful turnaround in the conduct of things orchestrated by seasoned professionals with righteous and godly minds. What is expected is a new situation where faces will wear smiles and not frowns; mouths will belch after filling meals and not wail of hunger; hands will work happily and not substitute idleness with wrecking havoc; pockets will swell with plenty and not flatten out in lack; industries will daily hire more to boost production and not pack up due to rising costs; facilities will work and hearts will not fail but jump up for joy.
The scenario painted might be fantastic to some but might even be an understatement to some who already got their minds fired up for the expected change. Whichever way, it is undeniably clear that Nigerians nay Africans are tired of living with the many disheartening issues they daily cope with. They are fed up with the potholes-ridden and impassable highways that daily constitute a life-threatening menace. They are equally fed up with the comatose health system where misdiagnosis, lack of equipment, inefficiency, mismanagement among other ills act as bloodthirsty agents daily conspiring to dispatch them to their untimely deaths. They are fed up with unpaid salaries and monetisation fees while their smooth-talking leaders feed fat and stash surfeit amounts in abetting counties. Promises of potable water have caressed their ears ad nauseam and no longer appeal to them. They no longer find sweetness in the company of the constantly absent power supply. They are no more comfortable with crowded classrooms and overflowing sewages. They are tired, fed up and tired of these and many more. However, they are not just tired like docile souls being treated to an ad hominem speech but from within, they earnestly desire something different from what they have always experienced. They want new experiences and also want to tell new stories.
To be continued…
The kind of change being anticipated for the Nigerian nation and the African continent is an obviously visible and powerful turnaround in the conduct of things orchestrated by seasoned professionals with righteous and godly minds. What is expected is a new situation where faces will wear smiles and not frowns; mouths will belch after filling meals and not wail of hunger; hands will work happily and not substitute idleness with wrecking havoc; pockets will swell with plenty and not flatten out in lack; industries will daily hire more to boost production and not pack up due to rising costs; facilities will work and hearts will not fail but jump up for joy.
The scenario painted might be fantastic to some but might even be an understatement to some who already got their minds fired up for the expected change. Whichever way, it is undeniably clear that Nigerians nay Africans are tired of living with the many disheartening issues they daily cope with. They are fed up with the potholes-ridden and impassable highways that daily constitute a life-threatening menace. They are equally fed up with the comatose health system where misdiagnosis, lack of equipment, inefficiency, mismanagement among other ills act as bloodthirsty agents daily conspiring to dispatch them to their untimely deaths. They are fed up with unpaid salaries and monetisation fees while their smooth-talking leaders feed fat and stash surfeit amounts in abetting counties. Promises of potable water have caressed their ears ad nauseam and no longer appeal to them. They no longer find sweetness in the company of the constantly absent power supply. They are no more comfortable with crowded classrooms and overflowing sewages. They are tired, fed up and tired of these and many more. However, they are not just tired like docile souls being treated to an ad hominem speech but from within, they earnestly desire something different from what they have always experienced. They want new experiences and also want to tell new stories.
To be continued…
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Living In Death
In their veins
flowed the patriotic
blood of ancestral spirits
that laced their hearts
with pain
for their nation’s gain.
In harm’s way
they chose to stay
giving expression
to many’s muted speeches
against political oppression
that daily threaten
their nation’s well being.
Soles ached under feet
minds faced the heat
fists waved in agitation
defying frustration
and on history’s page
blood etched their rage.
In jail
thinking brains
graced by batons
chose not to wail
but envision pain’s gains
rejected compromise
and chose sacrifice.
They embraced the earth
with love in their hearts
even for the piercing bullets
gifts from bloody berets.
To MKO and to Bhutto
To Giwa and to Saro Wiwa
To Kudirat and to Luther
Even to others
Accept this a tribute
You live in death
As ever lives the truth
flowed the patriotic
blood of ancestral spirits
that laced their hearts
with pain
for their nation’s gain.
In harm’s way
they chose to stay
giving expression
to many’s muted speeches
against political oppression
that daily threaten
their nation’s well being.
Soles ached under feet
minds faced the heat
fists waved in agitation
defying frustration
and on history’s page
blood etched their rage.
In jail
thinking brains
graced by batons
chose not to wail
but envision pain’s gains
rejected compromise
and chose sacrifice.
They embraced the earth
with love in their hearts
even for the piercing bullets
gifts from bloody berets.
To MKO and to Bhutto
To Giwa and to Saro Wiwa
To Kudirat and to Luther
Even to others
Accept this a tribute
You live in death
As ever lives the truth
Babu's Tale
The sharp rays of the sun afflicted Babu’s opening eyes and forced it into a squint. He rose up groggily not knowing if he would be right to reciprocate the impudent kick that had stopped him from shaking hands with the General Manager of Brace Constructions, the foremost engineering firm in the country. In the few minutes he had slept, fatigue had worked on his mental imagination and he had gone from daydreaming into a full dream. In his dream, he had sent a job application to Brace Constructions and they immediately granted him a job in a higher position than the one he sought due to his impressive CV. He was then hosted to a dinner after which everyone present had struggled with themselves just to have a handshake with him. The General Manager got lucky but just as he was about to do the GM the honour, a terrible kick on his right thigh jolted him.
Babu looked up at the figure who had hit him and for a while thought it would just be right if he gave him a kick in his groin but just as he contemplated on the next line of action, the figure clenched his fist and would have menacingly brought it down on him if he had not hurried to his feet and moved back to dodge the blow.
“You idiot...Na me say make you no get power, your mates dey work, you dey here dey sleep. God punish your yanch,” Rasco, the site coordinator thundered.
Babu did not give a reply to Rasco’s insults but rather supported his neck with his hands and turned it to the left and then to the right. This was to relieve the pain resting his neck on a stone had caused him. He and other labourers had been lifting some heavy bags of cement and when the cement bags had all been lifted, Rasco ordered them to lift more sand buckets. It was at that moment that Babu felt he had to take a short rest and had surreptitiously slid into one of the rooms where he placed a stone at the end of a plank and placed himself on the plank for a short rest with his head resting on the stone.
Rasco quickly noticed that Babu was not part of the returning sand-fetching party and immediately saw an opportunity to get at him for his insolence earlier in the day. Babu was the only educated fellow among the labourers, at least he had started higher education at the state university before dropping out for financial reasons after his father evicted him from his house for an offence he did not commit. His half-education often made him feel he was not inferior to Rasco who was not educated and this made them clash frequently though frequently too, Rasco would threaten him with a sack and Babu, not knowing any other source of livelihood, would subdue himself and shamefully walk away, cursing in his throat. Babu was a brilliant young man in school before he dropped out and always took the slightest opportunity to show his labourer colleagues that he was better than them in some way, by speaking good English and mocking their inability to do the same. He also argued frequently with Rasco about increasing the pay of the labourers, among other things. That morning, Rasco had told the labourers to clear a bush where a wooden kiosk was to be erected but Babu objected and stood up to him to point out that their duty was to lift cement, stones, sand and water and did not include cutting grass. The other labourers agreed with him and Rasco had to get some boys from a nearby school to do the clearing. He was bitter and thought of how best he could get back at Babu without arousing the anger of the other labourers as Babu was beginning to have substantial influence among them. So, when he discovered that Babu had ignored his task, he was more than happy to deal with him.
“You beta go carry the sand now or I go show you say na my papa born me. I no go pay you your money for today and u no go fit do anything,” Rasco threatened as Babu walked away.
Inwardly, Babu cursed Rasco but his reason convinced him that it was best to walk away. He cursed not only Rasco, he also cursed his stars. He wondered why he had to go through so much misfortune. He had lost his mother when he was sixteen. His father had married another wife, Jane who made sure life for Babu was hell and on several occasions, she told grievous lies against him. The last one that forced Babu out of the house really got his father angry. A huge amount of money left by Babu’s father in his wardrobe had miraculously grown wings and when he noticed and began to look for it, his loving wife promptly narrated the story of how he saw Babu coming out of his father’s room with some money and that when she confronted him, he had offered that his father asked him to bring it. Mr Gemba instantly took the story to be the truth and demanded that Babu return the money. Babu vehemently denied the charge but his pleas were not convincing enough and the new phone he just brought back that evening did not help matters. Babu explained that the phone belonged to a course mate in the university but his father was not convinced and despite the numerous appeals of neighbours and summoned family members, he cursed and drove out Babu to the delight of Mrs Gemba. It was three years now but the pain still struck Babu’s heart as though it was fresh especially when he thought of the fact that his efforts to get back into the house had proved futile and no family member had offered to help. They were all interested in remaining in his father’s good books and that way ensuring that the little money they got from him frequently was protected. His attempts to get a job with his school-leaving certificate had also proved abortive while his friends also drove him away when they got tired of feeding him. He had then wandered into a nearby town sleeping in uncompleted buildings. It was Moya who had offered to lodge him that introduced him to Huran, for who Rasco worked.
Just as Babu returned with the second load of sand, he noticed that Rasco was running in and out of the small shed where Huran always stayed whenever he came around to see things for himself. He guessed Huran was around. He also noticed that there was a bit of uneasiness in the way Rasco ran up and down and that he had disposed of the cigarette stick that was, as always, in his mouth some minutes before then. It was then that he observed that there was a black Range-rover parked at the back of the shed beside Huran’s blue Mitsubishi car. It must belong to the owner of the new house they were building, he thought. He had never seen the man and neither Huran nor Rasco had said much about him. He felt like going to steal a look at his face but on second thought, he decided against it and picked up his bucket to return to the sand-pile.
Rasco came out of the shed again as Babu turned to leave and in a derogatory and perhaps vindictive tone, he shouted Babu’s name and screwed his face in feigned anger as he waited for him to run up. When Babu finally dragged himself to meet him, Rasco landed a hot slap on his cheek and stuttered in a low voice, “Na me dey call you wey you dey waka like snail...see, I be your oga for here and u suppose run when I dey call you. Try am another day and I go show you pepper.” When he was through expressing his anger, he stretched the money in his hand towards Babu, “Take this money, go buy two bottles of Malt for Oga and him visitor.”
Babu stared at Rasco contemptuously, pondering on the instinct within him to return the slap. He felt it was because he had refused to show his anger earlier that Rasco had repeated this disrespect. Rasco could have called someone else but had called him just to taunt him, he thought. Rasco was much older than him and for that reason, he decided not to hit him back but as for going on his errand, he would not have any of that. Babu turned his back and was about to leave when Rasco’s huge arms drew him back and his calloused palms dealt his face another hot slap. The slap had a louder report than the first and stung Babu’s face more painfully. He stretched forth his hand and grabbed Rasco’s shirt. He would have shown him that the biblical story of David and Goliath could be rehashed in modern times if he had not seen Huran running out of the shed to see what was happening. The house-owner also came out with Huran and it was the sight of the man that rather rendered Babu numb and unable to land his clenched fist on Rasco. Rasco freed himself from Babu’s grip and attempted to straighten his rumpled shirt while Babu just looked on, almost driven to tears amidst the fury rising tumultuously in his chest.
“What happened?” Huran asked, shaking Babu who like a transfixed object just looked on. Huran shook him again and repeated his question but Babu just gazed into seemingly into space. It was then that Huran noticed that the object of Babu’s almost-hypnotic gaze was neither him nor Rasco but the house-owner. Babu gave no response to Huran’s question but simply let the tears that had now welled up in his eyes to trickle down. When next Babu moved, he took a step forward and then not knowing what to think or say, he turned and began to walk away.
“Babu!” the house-owner shouted with an emotion-laden voice to the utmost shock of Huran and Rasco. “The man know Babu?” Rasco’s muffled voice asked Huran as the house-owner’s feet quickened past them. Huran had no answer and simply watched. Babu stopped and looked back at the approaching house-owner. “My son, please come back!” He continued as he walked past Huran and Rasco to meet with Babu. Tears now flowed freely from Babu’s face. He was hearing the same voice that had thundered three years before then, sending him away from home where there still existed a modicum of care and comfort into a totally uncaring world where people like Rasco tormented him. He was looking at the same face that had an implacable disposition to him a few years back when he was wrongly alleged to have stolen his money. He wished he could just go away, forever but when again he looked at his father’s face, he no longer saw the anger that was there three years ago but in its place, he saw pity, plea for forgiveness and repentance all at the same time.
“Babu, I’m sorry for all that happened. Jane later confessed she lied against you when we gave our life to Christ. I’ve tried my best to find you but my efforts proved futile. I was going to name this place after you after its completion but luck made me find you here. I’m really sorry. Come, let’s go home and I will make it up to you. Jane will apologise and make it up to you, I promise,” Mr Gemba pleaded with Babu.
Babu said nothing. He simply walked into his father’s open arms and shed more tears on his shoulder while he thought of how much he had lost and how much catching up he had to make. He thought of what would be Jane’s reaction when she saw him that evening. He thought of his friends and especially those who had deserted him at his moment of travails and imagined how ashamed they would be when they see him bounce back. He knew he had to start all over but it was all good, all was now resolved. Babu’s roving steamy eyes captured Rasco’s gaping mouth and confounded face staring at him, his face covered with sweat. He looked away and he tried not to think what he could do to Rasco now that he had been restored to his rightful position in the right order of things.
Babu looked up at the figure who had hit him and for a while thought it would just be right if he gave him a kick in his groin but just as he contemplated on the next line of action, the figure clenched his fist and would have menacingly brought it down on him if he had not hurried to his feet and moved back to dodge the blow.
“You idiot...Na me say make you no get power, your mates dey work, you dey here dey sleep. God punish your yanch,” Rasco, the site coordinator thundered.
Babu did not give a reply to Rasco’s insults but rather supported his neck with his hands and turned it to the left and then to the right. This was to relieve the pain resting his neck on a stone had caused him. He and other labourers had been lifting some heavy bags of cement and when the cement bags had all been lifted, Rasco ordered them to lift more sand buckets. It was at that moment that Babu felt he had to take a short rest and had surreptitiously slid into one of the rooms where he placed a stone at the end of a plank and placed himself on the plank for a short rest with his head resting on the stone.
Rasco quickly noticed that Babu was not part of the returning sand-fetching party and immediately saw an opportunity to get at him for his insolence earlier in the day. Babu was the only educated fellow among the labourers, at least he had started higher education at the state university before dropping out for financial reasons after his father evicted him from his house for an offence he did not commit. His half-education often made him feel he was not inferior to Rasco who was not educated and this made them clash frequently though frequently too, Rasco would threaten him with a sack and Babu, not knowing any other source of livelihood, would subdue himself and shamefully walk away, cursing in his throat. Babu was a brilliant young man in school before he dropped out and always took the slightest opportunity to show his labourer colleagues that he was better than them in some way, by speaking good English and mocking their inability to do the same. He also argued frequently with Rasco about increasing the pay of the labourers, among other things. That morning, Rasco had told the labourers to clear a bush where a wooden kiosk was to be erected but Babu objected and stood up to him to point out that their duty was to lift cement, stones, sand and water and did not include cutting grass. The other labourers agreed with him and Rasco had to get some boys from a nearby school to do the clearing. He was bitter and thought of how best he could get back at Babu without arousing the anger of the other labourers as Babu was beginning to have substantial influence among them. So, when he discovered that Babu had ignored his task, he was more than happy to deal with him.
“You beta go carry the sand now or I go show you say na my papa born me. I no go pay you your money for today and u no go fit do anything,” Rasco threatened as Babu walked away.
Inwardly, Babu cursed Rasco but his reason convinced him that it was best to walk away. He cursed not only Rasco, he also cursed his stars. He wondered why he had to go through so much misfortune. He had lost his mother when he was sixteen. His father had married another wife, Jane who made sure life for Babu was hell and on several occasions, she told grievous lies against him. The last one that forced Babu out of the house really got his father angry. A huge amount of money left by Babu’s father in his wardrobe had miraculously grown wings and when he noticed and began to look for it, his loving wife promptly narrated the story of how he saw Babu coming out of his father’s room with some money and that when she confronted him, he had offered that his father asked him to bring it. Mr Gemba instantly took the story to be the truth and demanded that Babu return the money. Babu vehemently denied the charge but his pleas were not convincing enough and the new phone he just brought back that evening did not help matters. Babu explained that the phone belonged to a course mate in the university but his father was not convinced and despite the numerous appeals of neighbours and summoned family members, he cursed and drove out Babu to the delight of Mrs Gemba. It was three years now but the pain still struck Babu’s heart as though it was fresh especially when he thought of the fact that his efforts to get back into the house had proved futile and no family member had offered to help. They were all interested in remaining in his father’s good books and that way ensuring that the little money they got from him frequently was protected. His attempts to get a job with his school-leaving certificate had also proved abortive while his friends also drove him away when they got tired of feeding him. He had then wandered into a nearby town sleeping in uncompleted buildings. It was Moya who had offered to lodge him that introduced him to Huran, for who Rasco worked.
Just as Babu returned with the second load of sand, he noticed that Rasco was running in and out of the small shed where Huran always stayed whenever he came around to see things for himself. He guessed Huran was around. He also noticed that there was a bit of uneasiness in the way Rasco ran up and down and that he had disposed of the cigarette stick that was, as always, in his mouth some minutes before then. It was then that he observed that there was a black Range-rover parked at the back of the shed beside Huran’s blue Mitsubishi car. It must belong to the owner of the new house they were building, he thought. He had never seen the man and neither Huran nor Rasco had said much about him. He felt like going to steal a look at his face but on second thought, he decided against it and picked up his bucket to return to the sand-pile.
Rasco came out of the shed again as Babu turned to leave and in a derogatory and perhaps vindictive tone, he shouted Babu’s name and screwed his face in feigned anger as he waited for him to run up. When Babu finally dragged himself to meet him, Rasco landed a hot slap on his cheek and stuttered in a low voice, “Na me dey call you wey you dey waka like snail...see, I be your oga for here and u suppose run when I dey call you. Try am another day and I go show you pepper.” When he was through expressing his anger, he stretched the money in his hand towards Babu, “Take this money, go buy two bottles of Malt for Oga and him visitor.”
Babu stared at Rasco contemptuously, pondering on the instinct within him to return the slap. He felt it was because he had refused to show his anger earlier that Rasco had repeated this disrespect. Rasco could have called someone else but had called him just to taunt him, he thought. Rasco was much older than him and for that reason, he decided not to hit him back but as for going on his errand, he would not have any of that. Babu turned his back and was about to leave when Rasco’s huge arms drew him back and his calloused palms dealt his face another hot slap. The slap had a louder report than the first and stung Babu’s face more painfully. He stretched forth his hand and grabbed Rasco’s shirt. He would have shown him that the biblical story of David and Goliath could be rehashed in modern times if he had not seen Huran running out of the shed to see what was happening. The house-owner also came out with Huran and it was the sight of the man that rather rendered Babu numb and unable to land his clenched fist on Rasco. Rasco freed himself from Babu’s grip and attempted to straighten his rumpled shirt while Babu just looked on, almost driven to tears amidst the fury rising tumultuously in his chest.
“What happened?” Huran asked, shaking Babu who like a transfixed object just looked on. Huran shook him again and repeated his question but Babu just gazed into seemingly into space. It was then that Huran noticed that the object of Babu’s almost-hypnotic gaze was neither him nor Rasco but the house-owner. Babu gave no response to Huran’s question but simply let the tears that had now welled up in his eyes to trickle down. When next Babu moved, he took a step forward and then not knowing what to think or say, he turned and began to walk away.
“Babu!” the house-owner shouted with an emotion-laden voice to the utmost shock of Huran and Rasco. “The man know Babu?” Rasco’s muffled voice asked Huran as the house-owner’s feet quickened past them. Huran had no answer and simply watched. Babu stopped and looked back at the approaching house-owner. “My son, please come back!” He continued as he walked past Huran and Rasco to meet with Babu. Tears now flowed freely from Babu’s face. He was hearing the same voice that had thundered three years before then, sending him away from home where there still existed a modicum of care and comfort into a totally uncaring world where people like Rasco tormented him. He was looking at the same face that had an implacable disposition to him a few years back when he was wrongly alleged to have stolen his money. He wished he could just go away, forever but when again he looked at his father’s face, he no longer saw the anger that was there three years ago but in its place, he saw pity, plea for forgiveness and repentance all at the same time.
“Babu, I’m sorry for all that happened. Jane later confessed she lied against you when we gave our life to Christ. I’ve tried my best to find you but my efforts proved futile. I was going to name this place after you after its completion but luck made me find you here. I’m really sorry. Come, let’s go home and I will make it up to you. Jane will apologise and make it up to you, I promise,” Mr Gemba pleaded with Babu.
Babu said nothing. He simply walked into his father’s open arms and shed more tears on his shoulder while he thought of how much he had lost and how much catching up he had to make. He thought of what would be Jane’s reaction when she saw him that evening. He thought of his friends and especially those who had deserted him at his moment of travails and imagined how ashamed they would be when they see him bounce back. He knew he had to start all over but it was all good, all was now resolved. Babu’s roving steamy eyes captured Rasco’s gaping mouth and confounded face staring at him, his face covered with sweat. He looked away and he tried not to think what he could do to Rasco now that he had been restored to his rightful position in the right order of things.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
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