30 PERCENT FOR SOMETHING.

None other, perhaps, in my humble opinion, than any other event in the existence of twitter, Nigerian social-networking stratosphere has been shaken to its foundations by a trending topic on twitter, than the recently trended #30PercentOrNothing. In keeping with the needs of most Nigerians-youths, especially-all manners of saviours and messiahs have appeared at one point or the other. Most times, a repetition, other times, unprecedented. Periodically, a seasoned mind-bogger and a renowned spin doctor with a considerable reputation, might rally and rouse the flames of revolution in the youths. And an enraged, or perhaps frightened youths will hungrily pick up the trend, make the necessary noise without second thoughts, only for that highly anticipated requisite action to become instantaneously and permanently frozen. It goes without saying then, that the Nigerian situation is aptly captured by the different animals left on Manor Farm, after their highly praised revolution, as painted by George Orwell, in his 'Animal Farm'.

That trended topic on twitter, a few days back made a deep impression on me, that I sought to add my voice to the unresolved intrigues and rage (as would naturally befit any Nigerian socio-political drama). The trend I was referring to was the #30PercentOrNothing noise that emanated from the doorsteps of twitter user, @MrFixNigeria. According to all sides of the gist, MrFixNigeria felt that the Nigerian youths were heavily cheated from the arrangement and governance of the country and as such, he felt youths should seriously agitate for a 30% inclusion in present and any forthcoming government of the country. As is usual with novelty in Nigeria, he has within a short notice, alongside his supporters literally taken over Nigerian social networking. The paradoxical nature of the situation, to me, had been as a yoruba adage succinctly captures it: the matter is like fart in your mouth and salt is added to it; you are torn between spitting it out and swallowing it. I really don't have any problem with MrFixNigeria's demands and the foremost yearnings of his supporters; everyone is entitled to his feelings and the way he chooses to express it should not be a concern of others. But, I am consoled by the adage that, 'one should not swallow poison because he is afraid to spit it and offend others. Moreover, a feeling can only be a feeling and nothing more. If after fantasizing of stealing, one goes ahead to steal, then I am afraid, he must go in for it. Though afraid of social ostracism and stigmatization typical of Nigerian youths, many a youth might decide to add his two-kobo weight to the ongoing agitation without second thoughts and proper weighing. I will rather, as a matter of logical reasoning choose to take the matter with a grain of salt.

The current clamour for youth inclusion in the scheme of things, cannot be far-fetched from the 'normal' Nigerian mentality of 'it is our turn to nibble at the national cake'. Perhaps, because the originator of the trend saw the massive chunk of the national cake delegates to the just concluded National Conference took home; or maybe as is usual in the Nigerian political scene, an Abuja appointment is patiently waiting. With the mannerism of setting up committees for this; committees for that, it isn't unusual that MrFixNigeria will soon be appointed Chairman of the Committee for Youth Inclusion in Governance. A make up office at Abuja will hurriedly follow suit. Real estates at Abuja and long line of modern automobiles will also be in the offing.

So as not to be labelled a sardonic, tongue-in-cheek and confused person, I humbly implore you to properly scrutinise the performance indices of youths that have been granted opportunities to be in one position of service or the other. Gratifying their 'personal' success was the foremost policy to be implemented once they've occupied such offices. Current National Association of Nigerian Students (NANS) president, Yinka Gbadejo is a classic portrayal of the above ideology. Polytechnics' students across the federation sadly were forced to sit at home as a result of the inglorious strike of their lecturers, that of course, was coming on the heels of the infamous ASUU strike of the recent past that kept University students at home for six months. All those while, Yinka Gbadejo was wining and dining with the very people that could answer the question why students were at home: his co-students for that matter! Yinka Gbadejo may have gained some cheap reputation by being a delegate at the National Conference, but creases of disappointment didn't cross my face when he couldn't proffer a single imput at the Conference. The current Presidential assistant on new media, Reno Omokri is a youth. What Reno Omokri has thus far been able to achieve is to 'rightly' paint the opposition party with all shades of black by cheap propaganda. Weakening their strongholds by smearing ideologies, even to the extent of using a fake alias, Wendell Simlin, to achieve his incivility. We have a Jude Imagwe in the person of person of Presidential adviser on Student Affairs, a youth. His only advice, as can be guess by overt manifestations of his boss, I guess, is to refuse the simple demands of teachers in higher institutions, so they can go on embark on strike actions.

Without any misplaced hope or embittered disillusionment, let me quickly clarify at this point that I am not a member of the ruling PDP, neither was I sponsored by the opposition party. I humbly implore you to gaze down from the summit of your lofty position and recognize me as that common Nigerian youth, then you will appreciate the great and unmerited suffering inflicted on me by a cruel fate. That will make me just an ordinary Nigerian who seeks to uphold the rule of law. That ordinary individual who seeks equity and fairness. In the like manner a snake in your bedroom will not hesitate to bite you as the one in the bush, so I see the composition of the ruling PDP and main-opposition APC. They are practically made up of the same bunch of old folks who have stubbornly held on to power since independence. The same chicanery that have constituted our present government to be tumult soaked. Members from both sides have successfully mismanaged this country for long. Their operational basis is what Tammy Koroye would describe as, 'a revolving cycle' forever recycling them into the fabrics of Nigerian politics.

What then of the so-claimed youths, MrFixNigeria, and his such-like band are clamouring for their inclusion in the roadmap and pathways of governance? The ones who are more interested to see the current edition of unrealistic reality tv shows, than show concerns about their own affairs? The ones who in their quest for the fleeting vanities of life will engage in rapaciousness that mocks reason? The ones wallowing in indecencies and irrelevancies, that will end up consuming unconsumables at alarming rates because of their ignoble and pernicious cravings? The speed at which avarice drives them to indulge in obnoxiousness lends credence to the uphill task MrFixNigeria has embarked upon.

I wouldn't be surprised to find out that this whole hocus-pocus was carefully spurned by a master puppeteer, skilled in puppetry, who seeks to compel attention by all means or a meal-ticket of the originator, because who knows, with the current massive unemployment, man must wack. Digressive measures and diversionary tactics have repeatedly proven effective to those at the helm in this country, such that in such a dog-eat-dog clime, it wouldn't be out of place to find out that this whole 30Percent noise was originally designed to permanently keep youths at bay. To continuously chain them to the complexities of emotions, flattery and deceit; humans being duplicitous, self-absorbed, slaves to intense passions, fickle and gullible. It was customary for those who wish to gain favour from political office holders to so do by offering them gifts and those things which such office holders deem precious. I sincerely hope that the current clamour will not turn out to be such 'gift'. A window of opportunism which was hurriedly grabbed by MrFixNigeria.

However, I am certain that the earnest yearnings of our founding fathers must be fulfilled one day. It takes a daring, bold and audacious individual, who would have a quality of personhood that could turn shared morality into fighting spirit, and thus prove that our founding fathers were not wrong in their quest for our independence from British imperialism. Such pragmatic individual that will tear through the general praxis of corruption and corrupt tendencies; that will uphold honesty and not be bought over for a cheap price tag. The pitfalls of irresoluteness, lack of spirit and fear should be far off from the region of this current clamour. This way, the revolutionary spirit and it's consequent vicissitude of appropriate leadership, which the country has greatly lacked will come to fruition. To this end, I will not hesitate to align my spirit with a genuine #30PercentOrNothing movement. A 30PercentOrNothing that will ensure I as a youth is ably represented in the scheme of governance, not the type that will produce more Gbadebos, Imagwes , Omokris and their ilk.

A real populist ideology is the one which is totally porous-proof. The type that withstands negative vettings. That should be the one being put forward by MrFixNigeria. MrFixNigeria should be stubborn and never yield an inch. Though he may suffer ridicule, his spirit should remain unshaken. Every genuine agitation that has passed the acid test will become a concept; perfect in form, explicit in meaning, with a striking balance, strength, harmony, lucidity and intellectual force that will be the true yardstick by which other principles are measured. I hope the #30PercentOrNothing agitation pans out as such.

THE TRUE HEROES.

A heavy storm, darkening the skies, raged on. Only that it just wasn't any ordinary rain-soaked storm. This storm, nebulous and gaudy as it appears, was a conglomeration of phosphorus, iron and other elements. Its nucleus was filled with destructive metals that annihilated anything on impact. The little lights it emits on impact, were glowing with the bitter rays of terror, sending any nearby living thing and non-living thing into a world of total oblivion. The process of releasing such storm into a particular area was known as shelling. To further reinforce the tremulous and horror-filled satisfactions of the shelling, large metallic birds were hovering just overhead dropping their own savage versions of the phosphorus-filled pellets raining over Gaza. This was called air strikes. If a 6ft fellow had bothered to jump, he might catch one of the numerous flying birds, but who was measuring their heights when everybody was scampering for safety where there was none. Houses were rumbling to the ground. Armageddon!, chaos!, helter-skelter! didn't even come near to describe what was going on in Gaza. Who was bothered to describe it anyway?

He was on his way out of Gaza with some friends to take refuge nearby, before he would join a maternal uncle in Pakistan when their journey was cut short by a wandering bomb from Israeli forces. That they were waving white flags, like supporters in football stadium, was no concern of the bomb. Just like the swimmer, who with his last breath flounders ashore from perilous seas, might turn to memorize the wide water of his death, so Ibrahim Amir Ashour, 15, the tall, athletic and handsome son of Mohammed Ashour; the only son and pride of his family, turned to look at the mangled and lifeless bodies of his co-bombed neighbours. His was not in good shape either. His round head full of black wavy hair, straight and almost flawless nose, complemented by dazzling blue eyes and small lips can best be described as a grotesque mask. They had just been hit by a wayward phosphorus-laden missile. His right leg was in the ditch where they had impulsively dived to evade the wicked bomb; his lifeless left arm just was about 10 centimeters from where he was miserably groaning in pains. Each laboured breathing was gradually snuffing the life out of Ashour.

Grown to a quick 6ft at just 14 years, coupled with his well-formed limbs had given Ashour the attributes of a fine footballer. Ashour's interest had mainly been football and the Teachings of the Prophet. His maestro footballing skills in school had earned him the nickname 'The future of Gazan football'. Though not a good philosophy student, his mind sort to delve into what little knowledge of philosophy he knew. With the laborious efforts of a man trying to lift a multistoried house, Ashour's mind began to ask some unanswerable questions. 'Why this universal cruelty of Nature?' 'Why?' 'Why such an unfortunate fate and endless grief for innocent victims, often used as shields, at the hands of unsympathetic and ravening beasts?' And like a miser, eager in anticipation, but thrifty in spending, the answer to these questions kept eluding Ashour.

A week ago, his mother and sisters had been reported dead from a bomb attack that occurred at the school where they sought refuge. His father? Nobody knew of the whereabouts of his father. The patriarch of the Ashour family was nowhere to be found! That was unheard of. But Ashour could clearly recall the heaviness in the eyes of the relief workers that came to tell him that his father could not be located at that moment, though he might have crossed over to Pakistan. Their mortal efforts at trying to uplift his spirit had achieved exactly the opposite. Ashour knew better.

Three weeks ago, when the conflict between the Hamas militia and Israeli forces had escalated beyond all reason, bombs randomly fell in Ashour's village as rain would fall during the rainy season. Mothers were forced to flee, leaving behind suckling babies. Fathers ran leaving behind helpless families. Everywhere one went to was overfilled with decaying bodies of humans and animals. Blood was literally and figuratively overflowing in the streets of Gaza. Houses that hitherto had been gloriously basking in the riches of their owners were reduced to rubbles. The charred remains of burnt cars and motorcycles were all testimonies of the destructive powers of the bombs. It was as if a large and unidentifiable wheel had passed through Ashour's village smothering anything within it's reach. The excuse given by the Israeli authorities had been that Ashour's village was swarming with terrorists. And to prevent themselves from future attacks, the terrorists needed to be wiped out at all costs, including Ashour's village. Ashour remembered clearly that he had one day happened upon his uncle, Sallah, rearranging bombs with some two discreet faces in his sitting room. And when the sensitive Ashour had asked what they were for, his uncle had brushingly told him that they were meant for carrying out 'Allahs will'. It had been only his uncle and about three others. But that doesn't translate to the whole village being swarmed with terrorists. Or was it? 'Moreover'...
A bomb exploded just a few feet from where Ashour's helpless body was engaged in it's reminisce, and it tossed some dismembered body parts into the air. Ashour's was one of them. Thus ended the life of Ibrahim Amir Ashour. The future of Gazan football. The pride of his family. Handsome Ashour. His tragic end was just like that of over 2,000 innocent souls caught inbetween the wheels of fighting raging on in Gaza three weeks ago between Israel Defense Forces and Palestinian militant groups.

Finding the appropriate title and engagement of the treatise under discussion was as troublesome and herculean as trying to picture the gruesome, battered and mangled lifeless bodies scattered across Gaza as a result of the aftermath of Israelian bombings of some parts of Palestinian-controlled Gaza. This was because the inhuman rate at which lifeless bodies filled some towns in Gaza at the aftermath of Israeli bombings of 8th July to 10th August, 2014, was not a poetic sight that could readily be painted even by the most famed poet. The thought kept recurring at the innermost depths of my heart, but sadly, couldn't take on the garb of expression. Fortunately for me, ineffable Providence readily provided Tammy Koroye, a diligent and ardent spectator of unfolding events in ongoing Israel-Gaza crises, as well as a good commentator. His indepth research provided the backbone of this piece. And by a stroke of luck, I happened upon Marie Corelli's 'THE MIGHTY ATOM', a popular 19th century fictional work from which the title of this piece is heavily indebted to. Corelli's novel told the tragic, brief and moving story of an unhappy, sensitive boy whose upbringing, in the absence of a mother who has been driven to desert him, was at the hands of his despotic and unsympathetic father. In Lionel, the novel's tragic-hero, like the casualties of the Israel-Gaza conflict, I had clearly seen man's inhumanity to man expressed and the obvious helplessness of man against such inhumanity. Like Lionel, the victims of the Israeli bombings were just what they are: collaterals. The unfortunate fate of 'little atoms' at the hands of 'mighty atoms'. The 'mighty atoms' being represented by the world major super powers.

It wouldn't be surprising that the United Nations Fact Finding Mission on the Gaza Conflict would turn out a huge elephant project. Reason being that the UN being a plaything of the world super powers, can only have indictment powers at the whims of such super powers. The insidious encroachments and all-pervading schemes with which the affairs of the world are being decided by the super powers would make the Mission's work a past time affair. Every toing and froing in the world today, as we all know, is the manipulations and initiatives of the mighty atoms. Why? Because the little atoms have natural resources within their geographical enclaves which they can't control, left for them so to do. At what cost? Crises after crises. The current Israel-Gaza conflict; The Arab Revolution; The Afghan ISIS massacres; The Syrian crises and a whole lot of other world crises have that underlying character of the struggle for the control of world oil. And sadly wedged in the roller-coaster destructive effects for the control of world oil are the hapless, helpless and hopeless third world countries. All hopes of edging out and mopping up the super powers nursed by third world countries, appear frankly unimaginable. Why? Because all the ongoing crises are for the major 'good' and 'benefit' of such third world countries.

The purportedness of international humanitarian law to question acts of war crimes peddled by the world super powers is just a sheer waste of resources. The international community proved to be no community at all when it came to averting one of the greatest tragedies which history is leading: the infamous Rwandan Genocide of 1994. At best, the international community connived with conspirators to help perpetuate war crimes in the Rwandan Genocide of 1994. The international community implicitly sanctioned the evil activities of key players in the Rwandan Genocide of '94. According to the International Panel of Eminent Personalities on the Report of the 1994 Rwandan Genocide and Surrounding Events (IPEPRRG), set up to look into the inglorious Rwandan Genocide of '94, "the key Western members of the United Nations Security Council knew that a major catastrophe was imminent in Rwanda, yet did nothing to avert it; that with a relatively modest military effort, the catastrophe might have been averted entirely, yet this wasn't done; and that once the genocide began, it was still possible as at then to possibly minimize the appalling destruction, yet this was never done." Your guess is as good as mine, in trying to decipher why the necessary steps to deter the Rwandan genocide or minutely reduce the number of casualties were not taken. Carefully, and in an utter state of perplexity, I sadly began to connect the dots in the ongoing Gaza conflicts with another appropriate precedent, the Rwandan Genocide of '94. I began to see the height of wickedness that would reduce man to the basest of animals.

As more and more conflicts arise in the world, plunging the world deeper into the throes of oblivion, as a result of the unruffledness and wickedness of world super powers, it is trite that nations should turn to the one and only Almighty Atom. The Mightiest of all Atoms, who unlike other unfeeling atoms, is all good and all loving. He understands everything better. His ways are all wise and eternal. He remains the only one able to put out such misery and suffering as there is presently. Nature wears the most serene and noble aspect; it seems good to live; good to hope; good to be even the smallest atom in the divine and splendid order of the universe when a nation acknowledges the existence of the Supreme Being; the Mighty Atom, God.

This piece is dutifully dedicated to the true heroes of the ongoing Gaza conflict. The ill-omened ones of the world, whose fates are decided by unsympathetic and despotic ones. May God receive their souls in his bosom and grant them eternal rest. Amen.


BY TAMI KOROYE AND ARIKOR COLLINS.

BEER PARLOUR MUSINGS.

In a sane climate, Prof. Onyebuchi Chukwu, Nigeria's health minister ought to have handed in his resignation letter alongside the sack letters of the resident doctors. But nay! this is Naija, where you get away with anything once you have the right people in the right places. Imagine waking up one fateful morning to sack over 16,000 resident medical doctors, who more or less begrudgingly dish out their medical practice, at a time when they are needed the most. And to be replaced by whom? Native doctors I guess. Ebonyi state, where the minister hails from is renowned and revered for it's juju men and fetish mysticism. Perhaps, Prof. Chukwu hopes to recruit willing ones from there to replace the sacked medical doctors. Has it been long when we all saw Stella Oduah, our former aviation minister buy two bulletproof cars for a whooping #225 million, at the expense of taxpayers hard-earned monies? Because she was afraid of real and imaginary enemies, we never could tell. She never even bothered to deny or uphold such accusations. Labaran Maku, our self-acclaimed Information minister clearly told us that the country was more than prepared for any ebola outbreak. The cure, he assured has already been acquired by the federal government prior to any reported incidence of ebola, but when ebola struck, we never saw any drug forthcoming from the federal government. Diezani Alison-Madueke, our amiable Petroleum minister, was reported to have spent a whoophing $10 billion of money that was not hers, but for public use on buying and servicing her private jet. In her defence, it was bruited that she needed to keep up with standards of counterpart Petroleum ministers who have more than one private jet. The sleazy settlement of beer palours and the soulless atmosphere of drinking bars appear to be the settings where our ministers hold their regular meetings, or else how could one explain the blatantness and unpleasantness with which they normally act? It appears that our ministers wake up each morning, after some pleasant drinking orgy the previous night to plan on dishing out some spiteful acts so we can be engaged in more and more talking. After all, our endless talking has been construed by them to be shouts of approval and appreciation, so it does a lot to bolster up their confidence. Moreover, their overall Oga kpata kpata has given them free reins to engage in anyhowness and brazen negation of the rule of law.


A friend at Abuja once told me of how he saw two men, who looked like ministers, carry out a decision in a beer parlour. The second man, had arrived late to the meeting, obviously in keeping in line with the african notion of time. He was wearing a new, heavy three-pieced suit, obviously from a renowned Italian tailor. His black leather shoes, polished to a mirror blackness, which was meant to complement the suit, was smelling of newness. As he eased himself into the beer palour, shouts of greetings and praises met him. Madam Philo, the owner of the bar couldn't hide her wide-gapped teeth. “'Honorable!'” She would call out just as the present occupants are doing. And in response, 'Honourable' ordered the usual for everybody on his head. Shouts of jubilation and approval rent the air. “'Honourable' is the man!” was readily composed by a dead drunk fellow, and the others would without considerable difficulty, chorus, “Yes, he is the man!” And he would engage in a sort of unknown dance to the music of the drunks with a swagger that was plainly to impress. When he got tired, he went and sat down beside his already drunk mate. The seven empty bottles, drooping head and drooling eyelids were all avid testimonies of how far drunk his mate was. And the hard light from Madam Philo's would throw their face into dark shadows, hiding their eyes and lighting their round jaws. “Now this wasn't even the main attraction,” my friend had told me. The first man, with his bloodshot eyes, shiny bald head and pencilled moustache would ask, “What are we going to do tomorrow, that will keep them talking?” “Let me see...list out what we've done thus far, so that I can see which new one we will throw at them,” 'Honourable' would reply while savouring the stiff effects of his beer, quickly placed in his front by the efficient Madam Philo. “You know we've done a lot thus far that I can hardly recall,” the former would remind the latter, the glass returning from another journey to his lips. “Oh yes,” 'Honourable' would quickly acknowledge. “I seem to have lost count, I also lack any more ideas”. “I think we should wait for tomorrow to sort itself,” he coldly added, while caressing his bottle of beer. And thus, they would each go home to their wives and concubines, ruminating on what blatant act to dish out the next day.


Let's take Interior minister, Abba Moro's Nigerian Immigration Servive exam scam as a case study. We were all aware that Minister Morro was widely reported to have been apprised of the huge number of applicants that were willing to write the aptitude test, after painfully parting with a 1000 naira application fee, because what else could they do? The little opening which their fatherland has decided to magnanimously offer them was worth more than 1000 naira. We heard of those that borrowed such money, and even had to borrow the transport fare that would convey them to their examination centres, only for everything to turn out a hogwash. Now, It wouldn't have cost Morro more to organize the exam in batches and stages, that way, the safety of those lives lost will be unquestionably guaranteed. But I guess Morro feeling pleasantly light like any little child who picked a huge sum of money off the ground would feel. He was feeling unperturbed as if in a magnificent dream. “To hell with it,” he would declare pleasantly. “Where has it been heard of or witnessed that a Nigerian ministry was planning a perfect recruitment exercise?” he would shortly add. “Come to think of it, we've never gotten anything right in this country,” he would console himself.


I wouldn't be surprised if the two men my friend earlier talked about turned out to be Mr. Mo and Prof. Chu. And as such, one can rightly deduce the following discussion between both men upon seeing each other at the beer palour. “Prof. Chu, good to see you,” Mr. Mo, already dead for drink, would greet gaily.
“Its good to see you too, Mo” Prof. Chu would humouredly return the greeting, while lowering himself to his seat.
“How's the family?” the former would ask.
“Well...my children are doing well in their different schools in London. My wife travelled to Canada for treatment because she felt some slight fever, you know one can't rely on the ill-equipped hospitals we have in this country ...so everything is going fine”. “How is your own family?” Chu would invariably demand of Mo.
“Well...they are doing good, my son's professor in America called yesterday to say how wonderful my son has been performing his school work; my wife as you are aware, is yet to return from her tour of the world, she called this morning to tell me that she just arrived in Dubai, you know the money I realised from that aptitude test is yet to be finished?”
“What are we going to do tomorrow that will keep them talking?...


The next day, Prof. Chu, wakes up with his yet-to-be cleared alcoholic brain and he came out in front of a nationwide broadcast to give the chops to over 16,000 striking medical doctors. Why? Because they dared ventured that they should be paid the same amount he pays his domestic workers as 'health hazard allowance!' The semimadness of it! How they dare think they deserved such amount? Or didn't they know that he was a minister of the Federal Republic and was entitled to any amount of money both as salary and as allowance? They, of what good and importance are they to the country? Their act was highly intolerable. They must be sacked so as to send a note of warning to other recalcitrant ones. Imagine the obscurity of it!


What am I even saying? Am I not drunk? Where's my bottle?

100 DRUMBEATS

The number 100 certainly has its unique attributes, just like any other number. For to attain the revered age of 100 years on this planet is something that even heavenly angels celebrate. However hated a man might be, even the worst of his enemies would have their hearts in their mouths when called to rejoice with him. Savvy popularity and immense fame are most of the added-ons to anybody who attains the age of 100. At attaining 100 years of existence as one indivisible country, gallant, patriotic and affectionate responses flew in from all nooks and crannies of Nigeria. Unpretentious jubilations greeted the nationwide celebrations. People implored on every known congratulatory exhibition to acknowledge Nigeria forthwith.

In the same vein, on attaining the very important milestone of 100 posts in our blogging history (a little more than a year), The Legal Watchmen would like to, in a state of unreserved ecstasy and wildest excitement, appreciate our very faithful readers and ardent followers.

This particular post marks our Centenary Post Celebration, and in a patriotic sensation of nationalism, we feel predisposed to dole out awards and centenary presidential handshakes to all our readers, subscribers and followers who have stuck with us since Day One. It will indeed be impossible to mention the names of all who are worthy of being mentioned, so we crave your indulgence by overseeing any oversight on our part.

There would be no Legal Watchmen without writers. There would be no blog without authors. To this end, the unflinching support of all the members of this team: Nkechukwu Andrea Otiki-Odibi, Arikor Collins Ogonnaya, Davidson Obabueki, Ese Palmer, Tami Koroye, Uche Odigili, and Miss Khosy Enumah are highly appreciated. My prayer is that nothing shall make us relent in our personal sacrifices towards making this group blog a success.

To every other person who has at one time or the other written for us, including the rapacious Femi Fani Kayode SAN, Akin-Deko Oluwabunmi Mercy, Praisegod Omoregie, Precious Aburime,Tobe Osigwe, and Godwin Ogbu, our gratitude knows no bound. We pray that God increases and rewards your writing skills.

To the members of the Faculty of Law, University of Benin, especially those who have chosen to stay invisible on the blogosphere, we cannot astutely convey our earnest gratitude for the impalpable support given us thus far. We specially thank you for not commenting on our articles. We wish to remind you that a day of reckoning is coming.
We also wish to appreciate members of the Faculty of Law around the country, especially  Ambrose Ali University, Ekpoma, as well as the Christian Law Students Fellowship of Nigeria, CLASFON  for the support they have given so far.

It would be highly irresponsible of us to refuse to appreciate some very wonderful people who have been very staunch pillars of support. Amongst these are the literary giant Walter Uche Ude, who blogs at My Mind Snaps. I can unequivocally state that Walter is one who is set to take over the pen from Chinua Achebe. He has constantly helped us out with successful philosophies. We also wish to use this medium to congratulate him on the latest writing contract which he just clicked with Farafina Prints. We indeed look forward to seeing your works in print.

Also on our list are the likes of Isaac Ola (@newnaija); Isaac Sogo; Poshkid Akinwale Akinyoade, Tope Rants, Tosin Tweets, Funke Oguntuga, Chiedozie (@dk_stan), Mike Dami (@damstylee), Yougeecash (@ogewrites), Zaphnath Paneah (@zaphnath_paneah), @Sirrvictor, @ifediorachy, Susan Obasi, and many other wonderful bloggers who have kept the torch burning for us. Please kindly visit my TL for your presidential handshake.

It would amount to an outright illegality on our part to refuse to acknowledge the efforts of two very special people who have made it a duty to read and comment upon every single post we have put up so far. Infact, I need to sanitise my hand with salted warm water before dolling out Presidential handshakes to these two wonderful ladies: Ivereniter Tserger, and Egbosimba Ruth. we greatly appreciate your labour of love and encouragement.

Also occupying a chairmanship position on our list is Sir Adedumade Esq. of Legal Naija. We wish to specially thank you for your efforts so far, both in using your blog as a platform for launching legal awareness programs, and the support given us thus far.
The entire team of Stand to End Rape Initiative, including the beautiful Miss. Ayodeji Osowobi, Abimbola Abiola, and Abdul Habiba. We indeed recognise your efforts at curbing the rising tide of rape in this country, and also the support lent this team so far.

We also wish to thank Okechukwu Ofili of ofilispeaks.com, @SirFIZZ of Fake Naija News, and Elsie Godwin of elsieisy.com for their support and referals.
We cannot but single out Emmanuel Odia, Vice-President of Junior Chambers International (JCI) UNIBEN Branch to convey our appreciation for his constant advice and support. He has proved to be more than a friend to the individual members of the team.

The likes of Honourables Prince Freeman Ameh,  Olubunmi Ayantunji, Osayuki Agbonghae King, Nosayaba Douglas and Ugochukwu Victor Okeleke, and other astute upcoming politicians who have not failed to use every available opportunity to wash, dry, and iron every single member of the Legal Watchmen are also recognised. A day of reckoning is coming when we will reciprocate with apposite washy-ing.
We also wish to appreciate the patience of all our bbm and Whatsapp contacts for enduring our numerous broadcast messages. To those that took out the time to actually click the link, we are grateful. To the others who don't bother to read, we say God is watching you.
Our Facebook friends Google+, Instagram, and Twitter Followers are also applauded for mustering the courage to read the overflowing links we send without yielding to the temptation to block or spam us. We accept our guilt in tweeting stories at 'unknown' persons, but the blood that unites all Nigerians as brothers and sisters, has washed our guilt away.

Also, others like  Miss Onyinye Odita, who had the nerves to friendzone and brother-zone this  writer, and Nayaba Cosmos Harmony, who has it as his personal mission in life to
agitate and perturb this writer in every possible way, I thank you very much. The Hand of God is still very much active in my life.

Arikor Collins specially wishes to acknowledge the likes of Enwezor Nonye Comfort whose negative criticsm spurred Arikor Collins to continue writing and Nwaneti Chigozie who always criticised his articles in the most jovial manners possible. Ogochukwu Iguomu, Victoria Nkechi, Imiosieme Khadeejah, Annabel Oghosa and a host of other girlfriends for introducing a touch of humanity into his somewhat stiff writings.. He isn't forgetting to include his negative commentators and haters for all the love and hate they have shown him so far.

We are eternally grateful to our families and personal friends, for putting up with our constant disturbances, buying us recharge cards, reminding us to eat and sleep, and taking the time to scroll through a few pages. We are nothing without you, because  you made us what we are.

Finally, this post cannot be complete if we do not recognize the most important person: you, who is silently reading this, trying not to laugh, and trying not to comment. But you can at least blush, because this world is inchoate without you.

Hopefully, the reason why you all have stuck to the Legal Watchmen thus far will never be extinguished, but will rather wax stronger each day. Without pretending to hide our imperfections, we hope we have achieved your earnest yearnings by our numerous articles and we hope to do more, of course with your unalloyed support.

Thank you all. Daalu nu. Nagode. Eshe.

Yours Faithfully,
Nonso Anyasi (@oluwanonso_esq).

Cc: Arikor Collins Ogonnaya (@CollinsOgo)
Nky Otike-Odibi (@Nky_Otk)
Essay Palmer (@essaypalmer)
Tami Koroye (@Tami_Koroye)
Uche Odigili (@Peters_Sage)
Davidson Obabueki.
Khosy Enumah.


 Follow @LegalWatchmen on Twitter today.

STILL ON THE INTERNATIONAL YOUTH DAY.

The world over has been customized into the yearly tradition of celebrating special days. The arterial question in view, is to what extent and effect, if the pedestal of such celebrations is awareness-oriented, had so far the world over and on the humans therein? If the United Nations Organization (U.N.O) was formed as far back as 1945 and probably, an over-estimated period of 30 years have been spent dossing over the celebration of a special day. What specialty accolades the World Democracy Day for example, celebrated every 15th of September, done to change, if not have a far-reaching effect, a smithereens’ impact on the world's democracy. The Western world, deemed to be icons of emulation to developing nations, have long stricken their democratic cords to the spines of hegemony. If democracy is to mean Equality, Freedom and Justice, the Ukrainian and Russian government should have respected the rights of the citizens of Donetsk who in a referendum voted to become a Republic and by now ended their fight. Ours (Nigeria) has been in no measure, cascading effects of demo-crazy.                 

On this International Youth Day, customarily celebrated every 12th of August, Nigerian youths will still have to bemoan the greatest grim reaper threatening them, will have to attend seminars with same gross output, hear the same monotony of promises, serve their fatherland and receive kickbacks in trade of unemployment from the  'saintly citizens of government'. In a nation richly blessed with natural resources and flowing with milk and honey, unfortunately have leaders who have unrepentantly and belligerently lied to many a teeming, but yellow-streaked youths. As the unemployment rate mushrooms her elastic capacities as an attestation that government is on top of the matter, youths are now like never before, left with more options of imbuing the feelings of patriotism by taking after their successors in government, resorting to violence, kidnapping, hooliganism and other youth but government induced restiveness. For youths who aren't privileged to be freelancers or haven't yet tapped their vocational skills, will have to continue in the Robin Hood game of robbing the rich to pay the poor and keep over-stretching the strings of government.     

       

The youth day is celebrated to recognize the strength and contributions of youth to their nation. This year's theme; 'Youth and Mental Health', is highly significant in view of the oceanic currents bedevilling the Nigerian State. If youths between the ages of 18-35 years, be the old age of strength; the peak of neuronal plasticity and agility, to what extent has the strength and contributions of youths to nation building, mirrored our rather gormless society. If Blessing Okagbare can continue to rake in gold medals for Nigeria, Davido, Asa. phyno Frank Edwards and other secular and gospel musicians ply their trade, breaking-even, Nonso Anyasi, Collins Arikor, Nky Otike-Odibi, Essay Palmer, Tami Koroye, Uche Odigili, Khosy Enumah, write their way to their treasured land and other entrepreneural and vocational engagements involved in by youths, of what essence is worth the dependence on the government to literally spoon-feed us to bed when we have what it takes to pocket in the lollies. What lessons are the youths of today to learn from the backdrop of the Chibok girls’ abduction, to the recent abduction of over 100 young men in Doron-Baga village, Borno state by the Boko Haram sect? Are they still to believe that our askaris are in to protect lives and properties? Even as Nigeria grapples with the Ebola virus, what hopes await a country's youth where their ideas are not given the needed attention. For once, why would the Federal Ministry of Health not give two hoots to Dr. Morris Ewu's claim for his hypothetical discovery for, who knows, the cure for the virus? Rather, our government's sick-up-stairs mentality of the white man's medicament, made them dislodged his and scurried quickly for ZMAPP and Nano silver. A much more rebuked and charaded National Conference that has in it features of handpicked dotards as the peoples representatives, if not for anything but the adoption of the old National Anthem, replacing the present one that has a less therapeutic effect on government's conscience is worthy a subtraction from the youths' woes. 

If Nigerian youths will have to scamper for safety, then it will be to the uplifting and conscience-stricken words of our old National Anthem, which probably was expunged for the present one by the then Obasanjo's  military regime in 1978 who perceived it as a form of remonstration and fulmination against their activities. 

'Nigeria we hail thee,

 Our own dear native land, 

Though tribe and tongue may differ, 

In brotherhood we stand...', 

goes deep to the root cause of our problems; ethnicity. That though tribe and tongue may separate us, in oneness we agree, is uplifting as against the utopian lyrics of our present National Anthem.

'Arise O' compatriot,

Nigerias call obey,

To serve our fatherland,

With love and strength and faith...',

has kept many youths serve their fatherland with love in exchange of blood, strength for weak governance and faith in hope of the substance that the over 16,000 resident doctors given the chops by the Federal Government will reduce the unemployment rate in Nigeria. The blessings of the old National Anthem that 'Our flag shall be a symbol, 

That truth and Justice reign, 

In peace or battle honour'd and this we count as gain, 

To hand on to our children, 

A banner without stain...',

has all the inherent tendencies to chicken-out the stygian conscience of our politicians bound by the egoistic heirloom of our heroes past. If Nigerian youths is to go by anything thereafter, it will be a banner of leadership without stain. For a greater tomorrow is only possible if we begin with a smaller today.

DAVIDSON I. OBABUEKI.

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UKWU RAVE

                                                

It seems a new madness seems to be sweeping through the Nigerian pubescent society: the love for the two-fold mound of flesh located on the posterior of a woman’s pelvic region, otherwise known by various assorted monikers, including buttocks, ass, fanny, butt, booty, bum, bumbum, yansh, and more recently, Ukwu. This love is one which I cannot bring myself to comprehend.

Indeed, a woman has two major natural ‘selling points’ in her business of attracting members of the opposite sex: her anterior mammary projection and the posterior rump of flesh. The anterior mammary glands, which were initially intended to be mechanisms for the feeding of babies have been utilised by members of both sex as a powerful tool for the derivation of pleasure, enjoyment, as well as power.

In those days, when morals were still held in esteem, our parents probably told our sisters that the mere ‘touch’ of a man could get them pregnant. I remember a friend of mine narrating to me the tales her mum had told her while she was growing up. Some of the preposterous tales include:

·        Young people with big tummies have had lots of abortions.

·        Young girls with big boobs have had them touched or even sucked by guys.

·        Girls that have large asses that can wriggle have been romped by a guy, because only married women could wriggle their asses.

·        Urinating with a shrilling sound is a sign that you are no longer a virgin.

I could not help but laugh my skinny arse in bewilderment when I heard that. And of course, you may be shocked to discover that some of the sorry recipients of these tales actually took their time to believe the tales, and were spell bound by the fear of the repercussions.  Many married women essentially take this mentality into their matrimonial homes and pass across the same message to their daughters.

But, let us in a momentary bid, play the devil’s advocate by giving the benefit of doubt to the above tales. Especially the one about wriggling bums. If indeed a girl with a large bumbum that can wriggle is exhibiting signs that she has been smashed by a guy, and this implies that the intensity and dexterity of the wriggling will reveal the intensity, dexterity, and frequency of the smashing. This will unfortunately mean that there are no more virgins in this country. *runs away**

It never ceases to amaze me as to the lengths girls in this contemporaneous society are prepared to go in order to prove to the male folk that she has a large fanny which can wriggle. Of course, the influence of Western pop culture is an intoxicating one which has turned the attention of our youths towards American superstar models. Which girl doesn’t want to be as rich and sexy like Kim Kardashian?

In the pre-Kardashian days, breasts, otherwise known as boobs were major points of attraction (in its natural form), and were held in high esteem by members of both sex. The mere fact that the mammary glands had a noble alternative use was enough to create apposite respect from both sexes. Males respect it because they were breast-fed by their mothers in their infancy. Females respect it because they are well aware that it is one of the peculiar pride of womanhood. However, with the rise of plastic surgery and breast implants and transplants, the respect for the mammary glands began to decline, and attention was shifted to the other focal point of a woman’s tangible sexuality.

The bad thing is that while most of our youths blindly indulge in a mass “copy and paste” of Western culture, we tend to do so without even an inkling of the slightest regard for rationality. Many forget their natural ‘selling points’ and begin to acquire artificial relics which only results in to the reduction of the durability of their natural assets. Prove me wrong if you can, but any mammary gland (posterior or anterior) which has undergone major modification cannot compete with an unadulterated and infrangible version in terms of durability, resilience, and robustness. Have we ever wondered why breast cancer is more recurrent amongst Americans than Nigerians?

Foreign artistes, as well as our indigenous songsters, when not singing about their love for money, or their obvious madness, or their love for a particular woman, now seem to concentrate on the bumbum. Iyanya’s Lekwa Ukwu and Timaya’s Ukwu, amongst many other such tunes are testimonies. There is no doubt that we have an acute shortage of lyric-wise artistes in the country. Emphasis is placed more on obscene vulgarities and the beat of the song than the lyrics. Hence, every kid in Nigeria who has a father that can back the cost of producing a song track, albeit how horrible his voice might be, fancies himself to be a super star.

The Nollywood industry has also contributed immensely to the development of the ukwu rave in Nigeria. Actresses with a generous posterior endowment are hailed as divas, and are looked up to as role models, not because of what the person has to offer, but simply because of the physical properties she possesses. Many young girls would therefore deem it pertinent to adopt all measures in ensuring that they look almost like their idol, without due regard for the peculiar circumstances surrounding each artistes’ endowment. Permit me to use Tiwa Savage’s style of pampering her face with excessive make-up as a point of reference. While she looks very good in it, many young girls (some are reading this post) in a bid to look as good as she does, refuse to consider the fact that Tiwa Savage has an atypical facial structure which favours the use of disproportionate make-up. They only end up enhancing the malevolent and aesthetically-discouraging qualities of their face. This explains why we have masquerades parading the streets of Nigeria.

Applying the same logic to the enhancement of the butt, girls, in a bid to look as sexy as Omotola or Funke Akindele (*hides**) seek alternative means of enhancing their bumbum. 

Those with money go for the permanent repertoire of undergoing butt-surgery, where different kinds of sheet are packed into their bums. They are easily identified by their propensity to visit the toilet very often, and their tendency to release varieties of life threatening messes and farts. The other girls who do not have the means to foot the cost of a butt surgery go for the different assortment of butt pads that seem to have invaded our market. Any girls who claims to have “packaged” is a living testimony to this.

 

When will our girls realise that beauty lies not just in the eyes of the beholder, but also of the beholden?

 Ramblings of a Believer.

Follow the @LegalWatchmen on Twitter. 

The Power of the Spoken Word.

In this perverse world, where immorality reigns absolute, especially among the youths, it is certainly rare to see a young individual eke out a little time for God, from his/her abundant time and opportunity on earth. Even after the Holy scriptures admonished youths to seek God when they are full of life (ie young), it is unimaginably unthinkable that many a youth of today will have such time for God when the world is out there to be explored and enjoyed in it's fullness. To see a youth that will forgo the attendant enjoyments of this world in a bid to fulfil that biblical injunction is totally a once in a blue moon affair. And the word 'youth' as will be used here, solely encompasses individuals between the ages of 18-30. This age range is used because research shows the individual-male or female- to be vigorously full of life, energy-wise, at such age bracket. Moreover, on attaining the age of 18, one immediately and impliedly carries the mark of 'adult' on him/her and is expected to make useful contributions for the advancement of his immediate society. And how best can such youth help advance society if not by his deeds and utterances? Sadly, the utterance and deeds of the present youth cannot be divorced from sex and sexuality. And in no way are such things helpful to society-especially when unfettered. Thus, by extension the utterance of the present youth renders society powerless in fighting the scourges facing such society. It is a well-known fact that the world we are living in is the type of world where people like Maheeda are more popular than Asa; where people like Tonto Dikeh are famous than T.Y Bello; and where the one who curses his parents in his music or boasts of his sexual exploits is taken more seriously than the one who tells us to repent from our wrongdoings.


Without any fear of contradiction, I would staunchly posit that the Nigerian entertainment industry, in a bid to be at par with it's western counterparts seems to have adopted perversity as it's defining formula. If the musicians are not vainly bragging about their acquisitions of vanity, or their objects of satisfaction, where women have sadly been scape-goated as objects of satisfaction, it will be the movie makers earnestly seeking to uphold sexuality in high esteem. Except for a handful of songs, the type of music being churned out, sadly is nothing to be proud of. They all appear to be cataloguing vanity: paying homage to sexuality. What consequent message is Flavour trying to send across in his 'Shake' song; what lesson does Olamide have to teach us with his lifestyle? Nigerian music, as it appears, is traditioned along the 'Ukwu! Ukwu!!' ideology of my countryman Timaya; the 'All I want is your waist' principle of my brother Iyanya; the 'Give it to me-ness' philosophy of my friend Kcee, and any other manner of praising worldly acquisitions to high heavens. Whatever happened to musicians as teachers; musicians as bridge builders; musicians as messengers; musicians as healers; musicians as...? And of course, the majority of entrants into such morally-flawed musical scene are undoubtedly, youths. Young individuals who feel they must compromise their integrity for them to be accepted, young boys/girls who must sell their principles and conscience for the temporary 'benefit' of fame and recognition. Thus goaded by the profane desire to achieve and spotlight vanity, in a world where such is highly welcomed, and buoyed by the resultant recognition that is full of apertures, massive doses of contentless and messageless songs are being administered by the majority of entrants into the music industry.


Fortunately for us, in the ill-ridden Nigerian music scene of today, where obscenity is the order of the day, one youth spectacularly carved a niche for himself in the world of singing, by being different from amongst the crowd. Graham Garrick, born 21 years ago, on the 26th of June, precisely, is a spoken word artiste. He speaks, and it is richly interspersed on a background of caressing musical notes. He employs a calm and slick-precisioned display of warm tunes and fine sounds in his voiced expressions. His works majorly, are a mixture of spoken words coupled with andante renditions. An artiste with a difference. An artiste on a mission. Of his mission, he has this to say, “Spoken Words is a medium for me to fulfil my ultimate purpose on earth,” and what was the ultimate purpose spoken of? he explains, “That is the ministry of reconciliation, into which we all, I mean all humans have been called”. Garrick, a Benin by origin, grew up and lives in the city of Lagos. Garrick's ministry can be best said to have started from his 200 level in the University of Benin, where he is currently a 3rd year law student. It also wasn't spontaneous, either, for he repeatedly received the calling to minister through the word, yet he defied this ultimate calling, due to his natural shyness and soft-spoken nature, until it got to the point where he could contain it no longer. And being soft-spoken surprisingly did not distort the message of his poetry, but rather made it even more incandescent, as Garrick speaks with such boldness and unpretentious approach that is rare in a 19 year-old. He engages in a variety of awe-stricken messages with a firmness of purpose and a natural flair of inborn fluency. The power that accompany his skilful works are best experienced than explained. In his "IF I WERE HIM" which can be downloaded HERE. Garrick fearlessly espouses the negatives he would have done to humanity were he to be Christ. He starts by using a very rich masculine bass intro, while his imperfect humanity is telling this beautiful story, Garrick explains to us the priceless love Christ had for humans, that made him had to give up his life on the cross. And in "HE UNDERSTANDS," which can be downloaded HERE. Garrick comforts the afflicted in life, in the most soothing manner possible, using the refrain, "He understands," all the while rendering this poetic work in a very adorable background outlay of musical sound, full of clarity, which makes everything said and heard to seep deep into the heart, the blood and even bone marrows of the intended audience. The above are just a few of his many works which I listened to.


Garrick has performed his spoken word songs at different venues and on different occasions. His produced works are quite many and he has a vast collection of works that are yet to be produced. He also effortlessly combines his studies with his ministry, as his brilliant class results speak volumes of this. I would boldly say, without any room for apology that Graham Garrick is the next Franklin Edwards, having listened to most of his works. When I received the links to his works and I subsequently downloaded and listened to them, the profound nature of his renditions struck me with such awe that I needed no further invitation to ink him down. He has refused thus far, to compromise his uprightness and standards, in the glaring face of quick recognition and fame that might be gotten from compromising his standards (He even declined having his pictures published here, as he feels it will distort the message he intends to share). Just straight-tow along the path you've chosen Graham; keep up the good work of your ministry Garrick, and I tell you, the sky obviously is just your starting point. Even in this perverse generation, I assure you it is highly possible that the desired and right recognition will come at the right time, with the priceless values of your works.

Graham is on twitter and uses the handle: @rated_pun.
On Facebook, his page is: Graham Garrick
He is also on Instagram as @ rated_pun
And his email address is Grahamgarrick040@gmail.com.

FORTUNE FAVOURS THE PREPARED

I want to use this medium to inform the LASTMA's that are not yet aware that Legal watchmen is on Twitter. Follow us @Legalwatchmen and spice your TL with facts and law.

And by the way, Happy Birthday to one of our ardent follower and reader, Arkinwale Akinyoade (@IamPoshkid) We the entire crew of Legal watchmen wish you a fun-filled birthday.

Enjoy today's article: 

   FORTUNE FAVOURS THE PREPARED

Many a time, people make statements inferring ‘how fortunate they are’. Words like ‘na God o’ or ‘na goodluck and patience ’ ‘na my time be this o’ ‘who go make am go make am’, are not uncommon among people in our locality. However, can it be truly said that luck is a valid answer for success?

   

 In truth, fortune favors the prepared, not necessarily because everybody deserves to enjoy some form of success but because in one way or the other, preparation which is based on hard work ensues in the unleashing of potentials. While in my primary school, my school motto was ‘hard work is success’ the message it brought was that hard work automatically begets success, however true this statement might be, critics could argue and present examples of hardworking men who died as paupers.

  

 Still, it must be asked, who today can boldly say that he/she made a legitimate wealth by just sipping beer in his parlor without one form of stress and burnout, or delivered a bouncing baby by just browsing OLX without the difficulty of labor, or maybe gave an awe-inspiring  speech or wrote a ground-breaking literary work after idly sunbathing in the car park without intense hours of research, or soared in his or her exams by simply exercising faith in Jesus without intense sessions of deep study and personal discipline?

   Furthermore,  in any area of life, be it dancing, music, education, spiritual matters, finance, family wellness, character change and even marriage, to some of these eastern or northern women, especially the Fulani breeds(LOL), if success is required, it must be gotten through the strains of sheer hard work. For example, the top richest musicians In America ‘kanye West, Michael Jackson (deceased)…’ were noted by Kings M agazine,USA to expend the longest hours on stage setting and preparations (most probably in a bid to ensure perfection), according to  ESPN sports a documentary on Christino Ronaldo (top international footballer) shows that he attempts about 500 push-ups among other strenuous exercises per day to keep fit.

   Nevertheless, it must be accepted that luck sometimes shows up on ones table. It could be true that some can be successful overnight; still, it must be established that hard work plus favor from the Almighty enables one to maintain a good stance in any area of life he finds himself, YES, hard work maintains success. To the writer, the idea of Luck is a lazy man’s philosophy, an unscrupulous belief solely based on an unexplained twist in events impliedly causing an imbalance in prosperity allocation. To the writer, hard work alongside favor from the Almighty equals undeniable success.

    In truth the only exception to hard work as linked to financial success is the rule of inheritance, most times sons and daughters of established chiefs, kings, and wealthy men can enjoy financial successes not because they deserve them but based on the exceptional rule of inheritance and yet still, not all of these ones continue the success in the dynasty by virtue of the lack of preparation which ideally involves hard work.

   

  Many youths today do not consider the blessings from hard work; many believe the shortcut to success seems to be the sleekest way. What about you?

Written by Ese Palmer (@essaypalmer)

TRUTH AND BELIEF

First of, I’d like to start by saying the ramblings you’re about to digest were not forged in the dark odious mind of an atheist, rather in the mind of an inquisitive, practical individual who believes the world is more than what it’s painted to be. However, I’d overtly apologize if some individuals find this inappropriate, insulting or demeaning. It wasn’t my intent. But nevertheless, I will say what’s on my mind.
As indicated above, I’m going to converse on truth and belief, and try my possible best to draw a margin between them. First of, truth to me means the quality of something being true, while belief can be said to mean the feeling of being certain something is true or exists.
In other words, where truth is absolutely true, belief on the other hand is just a mere feeling that something is purportedly true. All dogs bark, that’s the universal truth as it applies to all the dogs in this biosphere. But when I insist that my dog is of the repute of not only barking, but talking likewise, then that is my belief, not the truth. It is expedient for me to include that Belief, with luck and chance, can be the truth. Why am I taking my time to draw an analogy between these two items? it is because people in this module of this great big floating blue ball tend to mingle these two uncontrollably, and it most times causes calamitous bites on the society as a whole.

What am I talking about? Simple, Nigerians and their misguided sense of religion. I was, in relation to the recent and current encroach of the virus known as Ebola into our great but dosser nation Nigeria, having a cushy discussion with someone until he uttered this statement, ”a true believer of Jesus Christ cannot die from Ebola”. This caused me to pause, as I pondered on what he meant. I initially thought he was referring to the ever constant ‘resurrection’ Christians preach about. however, I did ask what he meant, for clarification ofcourse, and he explained that Jesus Christ, in his documented life mind you, never got ill once, and the spirit that imbedded in the savior was also present in him, so therefore he cannot contact Ebola and suffer the pain and horror the disease put most people through. I didn’t say anything then, because everyone is entitled to his or her own beliefs. If he believes that through faith in Jesus Christ he will not get contaminated by the virus, good for him.
Then he just had to cross the Rubicon by insisting that if the virus comes in contact with him, the virus will wither and die off, rather than he himself. This provoked my innermost being, and the first word that popped up in my head was “delusion”. How, in the heavens, can a graduate say such a thing? Ultimately, I expressed my views, and he started rendering bible verses like I was somewhat a demon who sprung from hell, careening and spreading the Ebola virus in Africa. I kept quiet, and when he was done with his rendition, I simply asked “so all those that have died from Ebola, none was a true believer of Christ?”
He didn’t answer, but he did rigmarole round the question, still insisting that a true believer never gets ill. He broadened his perspective, so I did likewise and asked “so all those who have died from one ailment or the other, ever since the inception of the death of Christ, none of them have been true believers?” He didn’t answer once more. I then knew he was lost to sense. Sadly, majority of the populace share this same radical belief. Most Christians tend to believe in the prowess of Christ most of the time when faced with one disheartening situation or the other and ignore any back door leading and pleading to reason. Students who label themselves as Christians spend more brain power “cabashing”, and forget that the foremost reason they were set to school was to study to improve themselves, not only as individuals, but as a group. I have actually encountered students who claim education is vanity, that all required in this life is to serve God, die and bask in his eternal presence. They claim that nothing in this life really matters except their relationship with God. Although most pious individuals who share the same belief would applaud such a notion, the truth will surely remain that a lot of things matter in this earth, apart from religion. A LOT. God himself gave man the sole prerogative of going into the earth to replenish and subdue it, and in contradiction to what most deluded Nigerian youths believe, education Is one of the many ways, if not foremost, to subdue the earth.
I do not want to deviate from my genesis, so pardon me if I do not thoroughly expatiate on this issue. Revering back to my first example, picture this individual who knows the scourge Ebola is rampant but believes he cannot come down with the virus, goes around laying hands on the infected in a bid to cleanse them, but subsequently contracts the virus and spreads it in his contact with people in his immediate environ. Isn’t that just arrant stupidity? Yes, some of the readers of this article will immediately try to refer me to the great miracle worker John G Lake who was purported to heal people suffering from Ebola in Africa. I will not dispute this, as I do not know the truth of it, but I did make my own little research and found out that six months after Lake arrived in Africa, his wife died, and he too, years later due to a stroke, which, ironically, although is also an ailment, was not so debilitating compared to Ebola.
The belief that Christians cannot befall any illness is what it is, belief, as intandem with faith, not the truth. The truth is once a person comes in contact with any bodily fluid of an Ebola infected individual, he immediately shares similar fate, full stop.
 We as religious beings should possess the cognition to tell between faith and actuality, truth and belief, or else we would be stuck in a revolving cycle of stupidity and ignorance, forever making mistakes and falling short to standards. Have we even, for a fleeting moment, considered if we are putting our faith on the wrong thing, as it is more than possible to believe in a substance that is none existent. Isn’t that how we tag idolaters? Contrary to beliefs of bigots, having such thoughts does not signify that you don’t believe in God, rather it shows that we are exercising the cognitive organ he shove into our individual bodies .Your faith can heal you, true, but also put into consideration that there are millions of dead people who had faith and it failed them, woefully. The bible, if I remember correctly, said “in everything you do, use wisdom”. This should be applied by most Nigerians who believe just because they have faith they can do the impossible and move mountains.

Let it be noted that in no recorded account has a man’s faith conveyed a mountain from one destination to another. When I was still in secondary school, a preacher approached me and said if I have faith, I could get a million naira in my account the next day. What the hell is that? At that age I didn’t even own an account. If I had being a gullible young man, like most Nigerians are, that sermon would forever implant in me the notion that whatever I seek or desire I only need have faith in Jesus Christ and I will attain it. What is this if not outright delusion?

With a final note, ill endeavor the diligent readers of this blog to make enquiries on the story on the sons of Skipper in the bible. They had faith based on a cause they believed true, look out how that turned out for them…

Story for the gods.

Elections in my dear Nigeria have become a matter of growing concern to me, and should be to every right thinking citizen-Nigerian and non-Nigerian. Elections in Nigeria have taken on a new plot, yet retaining their overall old theme of 'largest provider takes all.' It had began with tidal underpinnings of inducing electorates to sell their birthrights for paltry sums, then it tenously progressed to such seismic fissures of inducing them with morsels of food. Going-ons prior to recent polls in the country are as worrisome as the Hamas insurgent group was to the state of Israel to warrant carrying out extraconstitutional measures of tackling them. When were we bequeathed with such level of utter stupefaction that we now as much as sell our votes to the highest upholder of jaw-jaw ideology? How and what caused thumbs at polling booths to obey the one who provided stomach infrastructure as against the one who would guarantee constant light, good roads, better healthcare and the lots? What a height of gluttony! Hopeless hope! Mediocrity of the highest order! It doesn't even matter on what platform you contest anymore. So long as you can bring bags of rice, money or packs of fufu, ride on majestically into government house, the public treasury is all yours to loot as you wish. And there appears to be no difference between the broom-wielding ones and the umbrella-imprinted ones. They've now shown to be all the same. I dare anybody who holds the contrary to prove such.


Yes, I guess by now you must have been acquainted with the facts from the state of Osun. Don't be deceived by the 'votes counted, free and fair' noise. The votes were only tilted in favour of the one who could provide more stomach infrastructure! The much-made 'one man one vote' noise can be rightly interpreted as 'one man, one fufu, one vote. The people of Osun cannot be as heartless as to forgetting the one who feathered their nest in the rainy season now that it is dry season. If he could provide packs as promissory consideration before the elections, he will certainly provide bags once in office. Prior to the elections, it was widely reported that Ogbeni riced up to expectations by fu(l)fuing his objectives to the people of Osun. Ogbeni had seen how the umbrella party captured Ekiti from under the very nose of his co broom-carrier by inducing the voters with rice, thus, he was not to be caught trousers down. Days before the polls, it was reported how members of the APC had gone round Osun, distributing packs of fufu to registered voters, so as to secure a landslide victory for Ogbeni. And it worked! The election in Osun state was keenly contested, in regards to the candidate who could provide more rice or fufu to the people of the state. Stomach-wisely, the various contestants proved their mettle. Ogbeni's fufu certainly worked its magical prowess. I really don't understand from whence we've degenerated to the level of our votes being our rice in this country, or as in the case of Osun, our votes being the fufullers of our destinies. No, this certainly wasn't what our very good father, Awolowo intended when he proposed the socialist and welfaric theory of politics for our dear country, Nigeria. I bet even dear old Wole Soyinka never saw this level of absurdity when he wrote his 'Season of Anomies.'


Once upon a time in Anambra state last year, the voters were selling their votes to the highest bidder in broad daylight! and security operatives turned suppressive operatives against anyone who dared vote against the party at the top. Money was flowing on November 16th, 2013 in Anambra like the biblical streams of water that never dry. Votes were being sold for as low as 500 naira or even bottles of beer. The common-parlance that reigned supreme during Anambra states' last gubernatorial polls had been: “I jikwa the money?” The incumbent in Anambra had been more than ready to empty the state treasury in answer to this single question posed by the voters. Then followed Ekiti where the people keenly exercised their rights to vote for they believed their votes were their rice. Ekitians-old and young, alike-were more than eager to exercise their fundamental rice. So the trend went on unabated till it got to the turn of Osun. Did we at any point in time ever bargained for such in the first instance?


Of great aplomb and acclaim are the actions of Uncle Jonah, the Oga at the top, as regards the electioneering process. Uncle Jonah was more than prepared for those broom-wielding individuals, especially that preambulating, noise-making, jet-flying one from Rivers state. In his 'pulling down your stronghold by all means' philosophy against those who are not for him, I heard about 15,000 battalion of soldiers, 30,000 truckloads of policemen, 20,000 NSCDC(men at the top) and 8,000 DSS batch of operatives were deployed to Osun alone for the conduct of the polls. Time for war! Funny, but how many of such security operatives have been sent to sambisa forest to find our missing girls? Of course, our girls can wait till eternity. Osun, just like Ekiti is more than important to guarantee Uncle Jonah's 2015 ambition. Shekau can go on selling the remaining girls-that's if any are, or he might do whatever it is paedophilic men do to small and hapless girls that happen to be in secluded situations with them. Other parts of Bornu and Yobe, just like the whole country can do without security for a day. Of course, they've been doing without security for long! Chiboks can continue to be created from all parts of the country. For the now, Uncle Jonah was eager to secure Osun for his beloved CORNfused son, Omisore. Problem was they lacked creativity. They had set into motion the same plan that secured Ekiti, when unbeknownst to them, Ogbeni was a super-match for them by providing more than they could ever provide for the people of Osun. Ekitians had received rice, some even had theirs being measured on the hands, and that same strategy was outlaid for Osun. Alas! the Law of Constancy sadly did not hold here. Ogbeni was wiser than they ever adjudged him to be. He knew the people of Osun like, well, the front and back of his hands. He knew what they needed most, and he was going to provide it. Check it out from my Igbo kinsmen, it is proven that the energy content of fufu by far larger calories surpasses that of rice, thus Ogbeni provided “more” for the good people of Osun as against his PDP counterpart who distributed rice only. He strongly 'energised' the populace in preparation for the battle ahead. The rest, they say, is history.


At least, I knew of Esau in the bible. Esau, as the story went, was predestined to lose his birthright to his younger brother. So even if he hadn't sold it for a pot of stew, he was surely going to give it up one way or the other. I refuse to accept that this fate as has befallen us was imposed by nature. Pointedly, as can be rightfully deduced from recent ongoings, the 2015 general elections in my dear country Nigeria, would be just as my philosopher-cum-singer friend, Olamide has said, “a story for the gods.”