THE HIJACKED INTERVIEW
Seun (Media Anchor): ‘‘Welcome to our viewers in Nigeria and across the world. This is Politics Today life on Channels Television and I am your host Seun Okinbaloye. I am pleased to introduce our guest, a rising author whose charismatic activism reflects in his poems, stories, orations, and movements. It is a pleasure to have you in the studio Sir’’.
Guest: Well thank you for the invitation to the media platform, the pleasure is all mine.
‘‘Most certainly! Your recent novel titled ‘The Story on a Black Skin’ has sparked great controversy and concern in society; what better way to resolve this than to drink directly from the horse’s mouth, don’t you agree?
In light of your reputation as the hub of altruism across the states in Nigeria and the continent at large, influencing lives and encouraging positive change, I am curious to know your perspective on a popular controversy; What is your take on black beauty?’’ The anchor asks.
‘‘Walking down memory lane the precolonial times to commemorate the historic integrity, resilience, and strength of iconic imperial leaders like King Jaja of Opobo and Oba Ovoranmwen of Benin who fought forefront to ward off colonial domination and exploitation; the massive sacrifices of soldiers and warriors in the leaders and people to preserve the wholeness of cultures, distinct and beautiful in their timbre; revisiting the cornerstone amalgamation of the northern and southern protectorates that birthed the borders of a state independent and sovereign, Nigeria, emanating from the efforts of founding fathers like Dr Nnamdi Azikiwe, Sir Ahmadu Bello, and Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa who advocated for life, equal rights and self-government. Indeed, it ‘was’ a country like the human body, bearing cells cum the people, head, organs, and systems cum the federal, state, and local government; all aligned to complement their bureaucratic functions under the command of the rule of law: a body vibrant and blessed with variant traits and nourishing minerals overflowing its tributaries. A country that ‘was’ home to all, a facilitator of the dreams and goals of the common man, a pilot of the interests, liberty, and equity of the people. Regrettably, however, "was" becomes an unapologetic expression that shields the sheer beam of reality, a past glory; a disgrace in our failings to buoy the baton of the birth, growth and development of the country forged from the sweat and blood of our predecessors; a story of "what should have been". Beyond its grammatical function, "was" becomes a nostalgia— a buffer against the intoxicating and stifling hurt of the present "what is": The father of a nation, Mahatma Ghandi, once subscribed: "Take me to the homes of the people, walk me through their communities and I will tell you the fate of the nation”.
60 years now since independence, Nigeria practices a facade democratic system and the rule of law, a mere eye service. The nation meets crossroads where leaders place premium on nepotism, corruption, greed, and manipulative gains over the onus of their service to the nation. Meanwhile, in their hustles to thrive, survive, pay their bills and make ends meet; their nonviolent movements, and lamentation for the value, accommodation and security of their lives, the people ask: ‘‘Do they too feel the weight of poverty? How it strips your identity, emotions, and rationality making hopelessness a glimpse of life; hustle and struggle become a lifestyle. Why would the so called "lazy youths of the nation’’ beat their chests, strides and strikes in marches for their freedom?"; activities in a hurry as much as the African continent towards growth and fulfillment. Brain drain becomes an inevitable fate in the face of utter lawlessness; more so as the arms of the military were (and sadly still are) openly fired at civilians carrying the Nigerian flag in the peaceful ENDSARS protest at Lekki Tollgate, Lagos. Carrying the brunt of this carnage, the bodies of the citizens decay to enrich a soil stumped by bad leadership; Inevitably, death and poverty remain neighbours next door (affecting above 58% of the population). The Educational sector battles with ageless strike actions losing young generations to the vulgarity of the streets while fraudulence takes a looting spree in the offices of the president, governor…. ''
"Excuse me..... I suggest you be cautious of your claims sir", the anchor advises.
"...... I am sorry Mr Seun, did I say something wrong?! Or is it that this platform is not independent enough to represent the bona fide "watchdog operation" vested in the mass media by the rule of law and democracy? If it is a situation of disregard for my human right of free expression, I would rather not be a part of this charade!" the guest lashes
".... Forgive me for interrupting, please carry on".
''Nevertheless, we should neither be products nor victims of these circumstances but rise to the occasion of projecting the true Nigeria alive in us; that even as we grieve, we grow; as we hurt, we hope; or as we tire, we try. Being Nigerian means more than meets the eye. She takes form in the way we carry ourselves, our gestures, behaviors, intelligence, lifestyles, livelihoods, cultures, and services; virtually the spheres of our lives contribute pieces to the making of Nigeria: From the confines of our political concerns of the theories and ideologies guiding due process and the norms or notions of justice and equity; through the smallest unit in the society—the family— where the smallest of morals like gestures are made to matter and the least demeanor, street littering, reprimanded; respecting and accepting other ethnic identities and religions, defending our entitlements, franchise, and civil rights become healthy routines; to the summit of our obligations to participate in political affairs, contest for presidency or governorship, demonstrate true leadership that is humble but defiant with a pure love and vision for the nation; establish an inclusive society and government system well rooted by the core fundamentals of democracy honorable political behaviors, socialization, and cultures worthy of species with sensible minds and empathetic hearts, and what not.
Fixing our gaze beyond the myopia of what is an ‘‘ideal peace’’, let us reflect on the pressing truth and reality of what lies before us. As we are and have been true Africans, comfortable in a skin that runs tanning melanin; proud of our heritage as descendants of slaves and primitive civilizations; a race despised but capitalized on; diminished but upheld by studies marking our dominating potential; disgusted but ever beautiful in the high places; degraded but appraised "exquisite" among the best when groomed, educated and tried; or as much as exploited when our high-spirited and high-performing mannerism are confused for a treasure to be tapped; our legacies and history of fiery mettle and perseverance continue to be upheld. In our veins run bloodstreams so thickly and momentously ours that it radiates waves of raw intellect, talent, and charisma across the world, all globally successful and virtuous people tied together in solidarity to embody one colour, one race and one people: Pan-Africanism. So, why sow division and discrimination when we have always been connected? Why tear down the walls of a country, Nigeria; a continent, Africa, that unites a multiverse of societies, tribes, ethnicity, and traditions—variously potent and elegant in their own rights— believing in the revolutionary power of their integration? Why give up midway into this overarching race for the ‘‘prize of our race’’ simply because the finish line is not in sight? This clarion summons a new dawn to reach for the Soul of the nation, and redefine our purposes from the cliche "if you cannot change them (bad governance), you join them" to "if you cannot change them you be the change"; and so help us God that we learn from our past errs resolved to correct, repair, restore and build, seeking optimism in "what shall be": We, successors of a modern era of science and technology, would emerge world power, our rich human and natural resources teeming and surplus, empowered with advanced education, entrepreneurship, commerce, agriculture; our intelligence, dexterity, and inventions cooperating as one mind— sober and powerful— bearing mutual foresight that cut across our differences to engineer the growth and stability of the nation. From the North to South— Sahara to the humid southern coast— across the five geographic zones of West Africa, through the mineral hills of the central plateau, the cattle grazing pastures, down to the coast and swamps of Central delta; we shall lend chisels to etch the truths of a story deserving to be descended through generations of the giant of Africa.''
BECAUSE BACKWARDNESS BREEDS MADNESS ... (12/03/2022)
If I invited you to join my daily commute down the roads in Aba North area or took you on a stroll just past my residential street within the local community, we might walk into the cluster of mothers/widows who regularly seat by Faulks road, under the shade of umbrellas, cradling and breastfeeding their skinny babies while begging for public support. We could equally walk into a mob of protesting youths marching towards the Aba North Local Government Headquarters and shaking the earth with each step and lamentation for better living standards.
Within a kilometre drive in commute, you would be shocked to have counted a good number of extreme health cases of wound infection, hernia, tumours, and metastasized cancers. The victims of these public health crises would be lying by the roadside or loitering in traffic, begging for aid; before long, you might equally sight cases of malnourishment and Kwashiorkor in children, orphans, and vagrants whose feet and bodies would be heavy from a long day of toil, of begging for at least a day's meal. Those hawking biscuits, sweets, and soft drins, would usually dash out of the traffic when the raging violent scene from irritated drivers and bus conductors whose bottled-up frustrations poor standard of living overflow and turn accusatory glares and insults at each other into fistful confrontation and brutal martial combat with broken bottles and the likes.
You might get used to driving past the good number of mentally ill people who must have dissociated from the burdens of maintaining a life that was too heavy for them to carry. Don’t mistake the dread looks of hopelessness on their overly crumpled faces and their condition as some punishment for their incompetence at working hard to overcome the challenges of life, or pass the same judgement when we might witness the common scenario where apprehended thieves are publicly mutilated and burnt on the street, whatever the case may be. They are humans, we all are, nonetheless. When we come to the end of the commute/stroll, please do not be too quick to call them beggars, mad, mentally deranged, criminals, ghetto people, street children, or as much as call my community a mess, because I couldn’t be prouder to be of them, by them, and for them. Take a closer look, you would notice we are farmers, tailors, lawyers, engineers, teachers, doctors, nurses, carpenters, electricians, traders, or husbands/fathers, wives/mothers, families, promising social units, but also victims of a backward public welfare and health system.
My closest encounter with madness was in the multiple occasions my father beat me to stupa or over my love for books. The experience may not completely capture the definition of madness, but the immense pain I endured over something that should be normal redefined my perspective of madness. Deep down, I knew my father’s intentions for me were for good. He was a victim of the backward village fetishes that forced irrational impulses and aggressive actions on him, his mentality clouded and sight blinded to that fact that his son, my wounded twelve-year-old self he desperately tried to shape into a property of the gods, yearned for resolution.
In the same light, it matters that the widows by the roadside can easily displace touch with reality, suffering from great depression; that the protesters, greatly aggrieved by the high cost of living, marched the streets protesting. it equally matters that the homeless children in the traffic and so-called criminals are potentially active workforce for the community whose inborn talents and skills are being lost to the ugly fate of street life and unemployment, that the mentally ill people must have suffered from unimaginable hardship/want and lost consciousness of sense and self. It matters more that they too need resolution.
Nevertheless, BECAUSE BACKWARDNESS BREEDS MADNESS, if I were endorsed with $1500 for a community service project, I would organize The People’s Resolution, a project to promote better general health and living conditions in my community. I will start up a multipurpose non-governmental humanitarian organization under which I will employ and deploy the voluntary expertise of experienced activists/humanists, and fellow visionary members of my community. Together, we will launch a massive public enlightenment program to reorient harmful indigenous traditions and unhealthy lifestyles, utilizing various means of publication: social media platforms, written and published articles/books or magazines, and open tutorial sessions on the streets, in schools or in churches. To promote interest in education, scholarship incentives will be awarded to high-performing students in the tertiary, secondary, and primary levels who meet the necessary criteria of assessment including best performance in national exams like JAMB and WASSCE. Also, funds will be dedicated to supporting the education of promising less-privileged students, enrolling and accommodating homeless children in foster/motherless baby home care. Medical Community outreaches and disbursement of basic health kits, and infant immunizations in affiliation with voluntary services of professional medical bodies will be mobilized, clearing the gutters/trenches of refuse and the dumps on the streets at monthly intervals, reducing the spread of diseases like the African plague: malaria.
At this juncture, only the people would be able to legitimately measure the success of our community service. Only the many lives improved and empowered would attest to how valuable, life-changing, and impactful our activity and sacrifices have been. Better still, we would publicize their success stories to reflect the success of our project and attract domestic and international generous donations to sustain its operation
***
FORTHCOMING SHORT STORY 'ANOMALY' ... (10/10/2022) (Sorry guys, but you have to wait on this one):
SYNOPSIS
‘‘Rescuing Mama from the trenches of insanity was the start of his Illuminati: his war against juju.’’
‘‘Hunt for the Soul of the 21st Century’’ is a short fiction that seeks to debunk predominant harmful religious and traditional beliefs brewing in Nigeria and Africa at large. It breaks open like the coconut fruit, introducing the central character, Armstrong Obiagu, retelling a bedtime story authored by his mother; a story that captured the setting of his home in the village, and this child-- Iheuwa, his doubleganger-- whose journey is almost a replica of his, as though his mother was narrating or predicting what would later become the trajectory of his childhood experiences and youthful achievements.
Into the unfolding drama that follows, the fiction adopts expository and enlightening roles by revealing to readers the many shades of cold, and unwieldy fetishes, asking relevant questions answerable to every believer in the society. It liberates readers into the modern era of reasoning in the contexts of two stories; one (a bedtime story) about self-discovery, empowerment and development told by a loving and hardworking mother to her child, Armstrong and another about Armstrong’s reflections and unlearning of cultural and religious conventions as an adult, surrounded by the sorrowful aftermath between him and his mother over a loss that was impossible to accept.
'Anomaly' is a story in a story, oven-baked and fresh for the readers' appetite, revealing the layers of pain and struggle in grief, and the rollercoaster that becomes the fate of both mother and son in their search for consolation, clarity and clairvoyance. Like the sweet and clear water that seeps out of the hardcovers of coconut after the labour of breaking it open, it ends with a blend of the bittersweet experience.