GIVE ME

                                        

With matter-of-fact arms spread

Giving you a piece of my mind

Not caring how you feel, i tell you

To give me exactly what i want

How you do it or when

Is entirely yours to think or act, or do

For done my part i did

Even my wife

Hasnt got half the attention

Unction and diction

You get

And yet

with that gaping mouth

You keep both ends of your swallow open

No pity, no feeling, no milk, as they say.........

You better give me that roar of a start

No coughs or splutters

No stammers or excuses

When i insert that key in the hole.

When i engage you to work

You had better give me a noiseless nod

Never you give me that nosy nuke

That makes shifting you

A perpetual morning-mare.

Even when you decide to move

Better agree with your members

Be in harmony with your components

And give me that smooth sail

That once endeared me to you.

The determinant of our living in peace or war

Will be when i need gas to overtake

Deny me that and see my other side

And if you like

In fact its your take

Whether to sip, gulp, drink or guzzle

The precious hydrocarbon

Because all i know

Is that you must take me everywhere today

And back

Its also your take

To take me higher or lower

With the way you will behave today

When that cocktail is over

And i want to order you

Before them dignitaries.

Your choice, your choose, your life

Its your call

Try me today

And see the stuff i am made of.

Ogbonna Nnaemeka Henry.

Re: Increase in Cases of Rape and Sexual Assault on Female University Student in Nigeria by Members of the Academic Staff.


Sunday, 13 September 2015 - The Nigerian Feminist Forum (NFF) is dismayed and alarmed by what appears to be an overwhelming rise in reported cases of sexual assault and rape of female university students by male members of the academic staff and students across university campuses in Nigeria and calls for attention to the need to take action to stem this trend urgently.


In the past few months, there have been several notable reports of incidents of rape of and sexual violence on female students by members of the academic staff in several universities. For instance in the last week of August 2015, Professor Cyril Ndifon, Dean of the Faculty of Law University of Calabar is alleged to have sexually assaulted a 20 year old, 400 level law student from the same university. On or about July 23 2015 Dr. Akin Baruwa, a lecturer with the University of Lagos, allegedly raped an 18 year old female admission seeker.


It is pertinent to state here that the vast majority of cases of sexual violence against female university students in Nigeria go unreported for various reasons associated with victim shaming, stigma, character assassination, public backlash and limited access to justice for victims. In many cases, female students who have reported such cases have been subsequently targeted for reprisal attacks by thugs, cultists or university teachers.


The mass abuse of female university students in Nigeria is fueled by the lack of a consistent and clear policy by university governing bodies and school authorities concerning sexual harassment, sexual assault and rape of female students.  Student handbooks and codes of conduct for staff and students are generally ‘silent’ on this and do not adequately address issues of violence against women.  Sexual assaults are hardly mentioned during orientation for first year students neither are there any dedicated channels of redress or support for students who experience this form of violence whilst on campus.


It is not enough for university authorities to continue to disassociate themselves, single out, disown or suspend individual perpetuators of such grievous crime of gender based violence and abuse of public office and trust without providing any sort of support and care for the victims and their families.


Rape is a crime under the criminal and penal code in Nigeria. Sexual harassment, sexual assault and rape is a clear violation of Article 3 (4) of the protocol to the African Charter on Human and Peoples rights on the Rights of Women in Africa (2003), Article 2 (d) of The Convention on Elimination of all forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) 1979 andSection 24 of the Violence Against Person Prohibition (VAPP) Act 2014. Sexual abuse of female students directly impedes on the progresses made in advancing  Girl-Child education, in fulfillment of the MDGs and newly adopted SDGs, as well at the objectives sited on the AU Agenda 2063regarding Girl-child education.


The Nigerian Feminist Forum hereby calls on the Academic Staff Union of Universities (ASUU) to;

(a)  Adopt and enforce a comprehensive sexual harassment policy for its members;

(b) Penalize by delisting any of its members convicted of an act of sexual offense;

(c)  Sensitize its members on the debilitating effect of sexual harassment of female students.



The governing bodies of tertiary schools should immediately;

(a)  Adopt policies and measures to address the issue of sexual violation of female university students by fellow students and members of staff;

(b) Operationalize a comprehensive policy on eradicating sexual harassment on campus;

(c)  Put in place a victim’s response mechanism for reporting, investigating and prosecution of perpetuators of sexual violence against female students;

(d) Conduct a mass sensitization on sexual violence across all campuses in Nigeria.



Members of the CSOs and Media continue to;



(a)  Support victims to report cases of sexual harassment and abuse;

(b) Ensure the full prosecution of perpetuators of sexual crimes against women;

(c)  Ensure that the ongoing cases of 2 university lectures before the law courts are not swept under the carpet;

(d) Victims of sexual abuse are given the right support and care and;

(e)  Issues of sexual abuse are kept in the front burner of national news.


The NFF is ready to offer its support and expertise to the ASUU, body of Vice-Chancellors, the National Universities Commission (NUC) ministries of education and other policy makers at federal and state levels as well as the police and law enforcement agencies, in developing appropriate skills, standards, protocols and processes to urgently respond to this growing epidemic of sexual violence in educational institutions.

THE CALL

                                                                   

It was a long, tiring day at our offshore flow station a thousand kilometres from the nearest mud house deep in the Nembe high sea.

Tonye, my subordinate, had made the day hell for me. It looked like he had chosen that day to flout all my directives. When I had returned from the break from which he had relieved me, he had made it look like we hadn’t worked the entire day. I looked good enough to weep.

  He had distorted my drawings, wrongly fixed the well heads, forgotten to insert the pigging which was meant to monitor the degradation of the pipe, and to kill it all- done one of the shoddiest welding operations I have ever seen. Not even with the Ndike indolents who were so intent on pocketing the juicy fortnightly allowances that they had insisted they knew how to weld, but had performed abysmally on first sight.

 

   The anger and frustration of having to redo all that had welled up in me as I arrived the spot. What it meant was that I wasn’t seeing Nana anymore this weekend…with all we had planned out. The correction would take at least a day and half’s painstaking and careful work. The Shell clients we worked for and their eye for detail!

  I looked at him. I couldn’t yell at him; he was at least three years my senior, both age-wise and in the profession. I couldn’t report him; he was a guy I liked; just liked for likeness sake. I could not risk my man being queried or on the tenterhooks of losing his job. A job whose take-home pay could not even take one home successfully; it ended back in the pockets of creditors; leaving one high and dry before one knew it. For all it was worth, I couldn’t even point out what he did they way it actually was; I ended up garnishing it and giving him the softest landing ever. After all, we would do the damage control together.

   Six hours later, I found out it wasn’t as bad as it had struck me initially, and we had gotten to the level where there seemed to be potentials of being with my darling Nana this weekend. The things we would do together! I was also thankful I hadn’t vented my spleen on Tonye the way it was instinctive on me to.

  I was driving home, gaily and full of expectation, when, close to the Benson-Adah junction my Samsung Galaxy rang shrilly.  It was a number that wasn’t save on my phone. ‘Hello?’

With what I heard at the other end of the line, I knew this was no drive-and-talk conversation.

I parked.

It was a gruff, drug-soaked voice. The ones you hear in movies where a comedian is trying to imitate a motor-park thug.

‘Is this Mr Johnny?’ the voice asked heavily, as if he had just had his fix of cheap snuff.

‘Yes, who is this please?’

‘Don’t worry about who I am for now. What you should worry yourself about should be where you will be after tonight. I was sent to assassinate you. As a matter of fact, I have your picture right here in my palms. Are you not the pucker-faced oil boy who lives on 17, Coker Street, has a growing potbelly and drives a 2005 Corolla?’

My blood ran cold. My right hand on the steering wheel turned clammy with emergency sweat.

‘Please sir, I cannot die now. Who sent you? What can I do to buy my life back? Please sir, I will do anything’, the words tumbled out of my mouth like the nozzle of a pistol was before me. I had begun to shiver.

‘You will do anything?’

 ‘Yes sir. Just name it, I will do it. I cannot die now sir. Please sir.’

‘Okay. What will happen is this: there are five of us in the team. You will need to buy the boys over. We need five wraps of cocaine.’

‘But sir, I do not know what cocaine is, neither do I know who sells it or where it is sold. Can I give you something else instead, or can I convert it to money or something?’

There was a long pause. What I heard next, made my blood boil.

‘Okay, lucky punk. Send us 1500 NGN recharge cards. Make it quick.’

Two days later, we were still on it. He was the one doing the calling now.

I put the phone on speaker, and the seven of my friends were listening in, in our large company lobby.

‘Sir, sorry o, I couldn’t find the NGN 400 recharge voucher you requested. Where I live the only woman who sells has only NGN 200 worth of airtime. Will that do?’

‘This guyman, you dey use me play abi? Oya send am.’

I ended up transferring NGN50 worth of airtime to him through MTN Share and Sell.

THE WORST OF TWO WORLDS

6.20 am

Something soft and smelly flows close to my face.

It wakes me up. I don’t like it. I do not like being woken up from my sleep. It makes me more angry when I remember the dream from which I was woken.

I was in a large room, filled with all kinds of food. I was enjoying myself. No wonder I had such a dream. I had gone to bed hungry last night. Very hungry.

I lift my hands to check what was nearly entering my mouth. When I try to rub it off, it flowed across my nose and I knew what it was.

Nnanna, my younger brother, had almost wee-weeed into my mouth.

I gently lift one of his thighs which is half way over my face.

We are all soaked in urine, the five of us on the little mat. He only stirs in his peaceful sleep, and continues. Mama is pounding the beans for the bean cakes for me to go and sell later in the morning.

 I had stopped going to school last week. My teachers are already tired of my mother coming to beg on my behalf to let me stay in class. I can not understand those wicked teachers. They even flogged my bumbum so hard I could not sit last Monday.

  ‘Tell your mummy not to come here again unless your fees are paid. In full!’

I hear a loud growl outside. I step out for the first time today.

7.30 a.m

It is the Chief’s large dog in the compound immediately after our own. He is a large, big and fat man. Some people say he is a kind man, but I don’t think so. He comes to our town once every month. They say he is an important man in the government, a very important man. When he comes, he comes in very big cars. Last time, I counted his cars as he drove into his house. Twenty-five cars. His compound is a very big one. He has very big men guarding him. They wear big eye-glasses that makes me afraid.

Anytime the Chief comes home, a lot of people gather in his house. Some of them come out smiling, but most of them come out annoyed. Sometimes I hear them saying, ‘’Let us see how he will return! It is just four years! We know how much we suffered for him!’’ I do not understand it, but I do not like what I am seeing.

10.00am

My legs ache me. I have been walking round this village since in the morning. I have been shouting ‘buy akara’ everywhere I go. I can hardly swallow spit. I have not sold much, and I know Mama will beat me like she always does when I don’t finish the large tray of akara she gives me to sell.

I am hungry.

I eat five of the bean cakes.

I cannot die; I know breakfast will be finished at home before I return; I will have to wait till afternoon before I eat for the first time today. Let Mama beat me; her palms don’t even pain me anymore. She would say, ‘Instead of selling the akara, you play football with your friends, yet you eat the remaining ones!’ she would jump on me and slap my cheeks and knock my head with her fists and bite me. Sometimes I pity her. These days she looks very weak to me. She doesn’t shout much at me. Today I thought in saw her eyes turning yellow.

Is she sick?

When will I return to school?

10.45am

I am close to our house. I must try to look through Chief’s gate when I pass. Who would not like to? The space between the hinge and the wall is not too large, but I can see. I drop my tray, and move straight to the gate.

Chineke……this house is big and fine!

I am happy I can see a lot from there. The house is too fine. Trees and plants everywhere. One of the servants, looking very tired, is washing the cars. There are four of each type of cars in the large garage. Will he wash all of them? That would be too much. There are nearly thirty cars, as far as I can see. Others are sweeping the compound, trimming the trees and flowers. I must have a house like this when I grow up.

The man presses a button, and the shining wheels begin to turn round. But the car is not moving. What is happening? But it is sweet to watch. He enters the short car, and presses a second button. Two of the front doors raise up, like God is calling them. The doors go up slowly, nearly pulling away from the car. Is this a car at all?

He presses another button. The ground shakes under my feet, and a lion roars.

‘Mama-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!’

11.45am

After I had run into our compound, I discovered I had left my tray of akara in front of Chief’s gate. God! I ran back there to find two goats eating from it. I rush there and chase them away. Thank God they hadn’t eaten much.

My younger brothers are sitting round Mama in the kitchen when I entered. The smoke from the firewood stings my eyes. Looks like lunch is almost ready. Nkiko, our last boy, was making painful faces like he wanted to cry.

I give the money to Mama. She checks the tray.

She didn’t say anything today. She doesn’t even count the money.

 She just turns the other way and continues turning the pap. For us. I thought I heard a sniff from where her nose should be. The sniff comes again.

Is Mama crying?

2.15 pm

Our house is so quiet. Everyone has eaten food. The food did not satisfy me at all. Mama says I should learn to make sacrifices for my brothers. She says I must be the first to stop eating, leaving the rest for them. When I refuse she beats me. Today I took only five spoonfuls of pap. I counted it. Three balls of akara. Nkiko wee-weed into his pap. He came to join us on our plate. I wish I were him.

Did Mama eat?

Does Mama eat at all?

I look at her from the floor on which I am lying. She is sleeping on the bed. She is a fine woman, but very lean. I will like to marry someone like her when I grow up. Sometimes she smiles and tells me that I am a fine boy too. I like it when she tells me that.

Today she is breathing very fast. Like she is shaking. Even her lips are moving. Is she praying? I know she likes to pray. She says God can solve all our problems. If God can solve all our problems, why have I not returned to school?

My father is dead, she tells us. But there is a way she makes her face when she says it. Sometimes I do not believe her.

I can’t sleep. I gently tiptoe outside.

4.30pm

Chief comes to the village once every month. Mostly on the last Saturday of every month. Who drives all these big cars? Who sleeps in this big house?

I climb the orange tree in our compound. I can see Chief’s compound clearly now. I hear people laughing in the main house. They are coming out.

It is Nkem, the gateman. He puts his arms around Ugochi, who sells oranges. He puts his mouth close to her mouth. They touch. She laughs. There is also Nnodim, who roasts maize in the evening near the market. Sometimes he will touch her on the chest, and run away. She will go after him. When she catches him, she will jump on his back, and he will carry her and then put her down after some time.

 Soon it is time to take the dog for a walk. The dog is big, black and has a long tongue which is always hanging out. The dog drinks milk, and tea. It eats a large goat every two days. I only eat meat at Christmas, and Mama gives me a small portion. Sometimes I eat meat when I go with my friends to visit people.

Suddenly, I hear a loud noise coming from far away. Soon I see two police cars speeding towards Chief’s house. When the cars stop, they pull him out. His hands are tied behind his back. They push him into the compound.

Every thing in the compound stops. People are confused. No one knows what is happening. Chief looks at the floor as he is being pushed into the house.

A short time, the policemen are dragging two big bags out of the house. What could be in them? They put it in the boot of the car. Chief is pushed in again. The policemen ask everyone to leave the house. They obey. They lock the big gates with two padlocks. They speed away.

I hear crying in our house. I jump down from the tree, and go inside. I cannot recognise Mama. Her eyes are fully yellow. No black part in her eyes. She is dropping spit from her mouth.

‘T…a…k…e----care----- of----them’, she stammers. She stops moving.

I cry for help outside.

What do I do now?

XENOPHOBIA: THE DOOM OF THE BLACK RACE

It’s been months now since the mayhem that occurred in South Africa left many nationalities having their either business or domicile in the country extremely grieved at the human and material resources blatantly and flagrantly wasted. It’s been months now since several  diplomatic relations between countries that have one tie or the other to South Africa have been bruised, battered or all of it.

It’s been months now since whatever measure that has been taken to quell the uprising became effective in stopping the escalation of violent tendencies in the Land of The Rising Sun. Weeks since whatever losses have been incurred as an aftermath of the imbroglio have been resignedly accepted as irreparable and gone forever. Nigeria’s misfortune of a loss stood in the neighbourhood of around 84 million naira (whatever that amounts to in South African Rand) by way of shops and car marts that were both razed down, looted or a combination of both. We are still thanking our stars, and the living God of course, that the forbearance did not get to loss of human life.

I have patiently followed the news items, analysis and opinion pieces that have this subject tag religiously, and the mantra seems to be condemnation, both in strong terms and in soft, written and action-wise. Numerous protests have been staged in different parts of the country, bellying the feelings of a people who expected more from a country which seems to take the stance of nonchalance and deliberate aggression for reasons that have neither logical nor rational information, whether in the books or anywhere that could act as a repository for human code of conduct.

  Racially motivated violence would not come across as new to anyone who has been a keen, no, average follower of world events and discourse. As a matter of fact, it has no respect for whatsoever strata of society and endeavour. We hear of negroid footballers being booed with the extremities of hurling bananas at them in pitches, race-energized injustices and a lot of things which goes on to prove that the painstaking work of the heroes past geared towards abolishing this race cleavage still leaves a lot to be desired. But be that as it may, I never expected it would consume and masticate the West, and begin to consider black African soil the next destination for domicile.

Indeed, the emergence of the race monster on black African soil came across to me as a shocker of sorts, considering the lessons that ought to have been learnt from the origin, aim, and modus operandi of this goblin called xenophobia. The fact that black people would turn on themselves in a killing, maiming and destructive spree is the height of proof of our moral, spiritual and mental level and decadence. What surprises me actually is how the words from a man’s mouth can be so powerful, far-reaching, and deeply consequential. The Scriptures are clear about the origin of the black race and what the first progenitor, Ham did to incure the wrath of his father, Noah to bring about such a dastardly curse that would transcend generations, looks set to be headed right on to the consummation. It only shows how potent the Word of God can be, if the pronouncement of a human can be so laden with determined zeal to be accomplished.

On the flipside as well, one of the variants of the protests was a move to forcefully shut down South African business interests and concerns in Nigeria like MTN and Shoprite. The response of the authorities which was a veiled insult spoke volumes of their rating of us: that we could not afford to do that on the aegis of the fact that we had more to lose than they did. And truth be told, they are right, unless we want to live in wilful denial of a glaring fact. That we have the unemployment malady gripping us in a chokehold to the level that it has become a bargaining tool and an Achilles heel, is not a good thing, for all intents and purposes.

But then again, I do not believe the matter is altogether a hopeless case, on the grounds of the two reasons for which it looks like the black race is doomed. Being a stubborn optimist, I refuse to believe the situation is bleak. For one thing, it was Noah that sentenced Ham to a life of servitude and inferiority, not God. On that premise, it is soluble, by determined spiritual audit, assessment, overhaul and three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn around, Godwards. Thereafter, every other issue will fall in line and we will be the better for it.

Ogbonna Nnaemeka Henry.

TO FALL, TO RISE- Poetry

                                      

Step back from that mirror

The fault is, and is not yours

Because If you do what

I think you want to

I am not sure you will want

What I want to think

Will happen

To those who do

What I think you are about to do

So let the knife on the floor, clang

And don’t let your neck on the rope, hang

Stop the head-bang

It’s a command, from Me

It is done, the deed.

As much as I know

You know, or knew, what to do

You wish it hadn’t happened

But it’s been done, the deed

The shame has been distributed

As well as the glee thereof

To the respective owners

It’s just my turn

To do my bit

of whipping you

And I advise

You brace up for the others.

Because it’s done, the deed.

I wouldn’t say Facebook was the worst of places

Neither will BBM ever rank as bad avenue

To spread My Word

But it all started, and I hope you remember

When you insisted

Women were the most vulnerable

Despite my warnings

Those times, those days….

The fights we fought like Sumo wrestlers!

The arguments we argued like senior advocates on duty!

Each night the pretext

Of explaining Scripture to her

Would prove more important

Than the calls for evening devotion

And even when you sang

If at all you were present

I would wrestle for your subconscious

With her.

Are you crying?

When Its done, the deed?

I watched your face

 The first night she sent you a hug smiley

After cleverly diverting the scriptural topic

And I saw a let-down guard

Carelessness screaming

Wantonness opened its mouth, swallowing you

Danger beeping, in bold red

You were too carried away to notice

Now the result is clear

She just left the house of an evangelist!

Step back from the mirror, I say

Because its done, the deed.

You told her trousers were wrong for her as a lady

And when she promised YOU she would buy gowns and skirts

You did not correct her

Neither did you remind her who she was obeying

Now watch

Who spent the night with a strange lady?

An evangelist!

Grieve not,

For its done, the deed.

Step back from the mirror

And step back into Me

Deeper and further

Rise from the ashes

And rise in Me

The victory of the Accuser

Is but for a while

And if I am convinced of your penitence

I will turn the hot on him

And say he did it, the deed!

Ogbonna Nnaemeka Henry.

Man who trekked for Nigerian Army smiles- News

Ibrahim Mai Riga (alias Kawulala), the 30 year old man who trekked from Taraba to Borno state to show appreciation to the Nigerian military over their efforts at liberating captured territories from Boko Haram, has been awarded for his effort. Riga received a traditional title as well as a Peugeot 406 car and N250,000 from the Borno state government

The government said they were rewarding him for his efforts at encouraging other fleeing residents of the state to come back home. Riga trekked for 11 days and covered a distance of over 800km

He was received in Maiduguri by the GOC 7 Division of the Nigerian Army, Major General Lamidi Adeosun, in company of other officers and soldiers on Monday May 18th.

General Lamidi Adeosun said he personally received Kawulala in order to identify with his feat. Riga also visited the emir of Gwoza, Alhaji Mustapha Muhammadu Idrissa Timta, who bestowed the title of ‘Sarkin Tafiya’ (Master Trekker) on him

“We are proud of you because your trek is symbolic and opens the way for our people that fled to various locations within Nigeria and neighbouring countries to return,” the emir said.

Borno state Deputy governor, Zannah Umar Mustapha also granted Riga audience in his office and presented him with a 406 Peugeot car and N250,000.



My Take:

Looks like this trekking thing is becoming more and more interesting and lucrative as the days go by. While i am congratulating Ibrahim, i am also rooting for the total extermination of the terrorists from that region. they have done enough harm and havoc already.

May 29: SURE-P Winds Down, Sacks Staff- News

Worried that it may not survive the expected general restructuring of government outfits, the secretariat of the Subsidy Reinvestment and Empowerment Programme (SURE-P), has embarked on a hastened wind down of its programmes and activities towards the May 29 hand over to a new administration to be headed by Maj Gen Muhammadu Buhari (rtd).


Consequently, the SURE-P chairman, Dr. Ishaya Dare Akau, has approved massive sack and disengagement of its staff last week.


According to a letter obtained by THISDAY, which was signed by the Head of Administration, SURE-P, Olusoji Adeniran, and dated April 28, 2015, the staff were informed that their services would no longer be required since the programme is coming to an end.


The first paragraph of the letter read: “As you are already aware the mandate of SURE-P Committee ends in May 2015. Towards this end, the secretariat has commenced it’s winding down activities which includes disengagement of staff amongst others.”


This did not however go down well with most of the disengaged staff who expressed shock and disappointment that they were not duly informed before being served a backdated letter.


According some of those who spoke to THISDAY on the condition of anonymity, the new chairman, Dr. Akau, since his resumption of office in early March, has not been officially introduced to staff members in a meeting or anything of the sort.


“Without his large entourage, he would pass unnoticed through the secretariat’s corridors,” the source noted.


According to them: “SURE-P Committee Members’ tenure expired February 20, 2015 and they unilaterally decided to disengage the secretariat staff as well. Selflessness and love for humanity should have prompted them to make plans for the staff members who have given years of committed dedication to see to the actualisation of the SURE-P mandate.


“The plan would have been to discuss with President Goodluck Jonathan ; who is their boss, by the way; and ask a very simple heartfelt question - “Is SURE-P closing down? Should we put plans in place for staff members to be placed in other agencies to avoid unemployment?”


“But no, they went ahead to draw up disengagement letters to several staff members in the hope of issuing the same to the rest by May 29, 2015.

“To them, the Buhari administration would not want to continue the SURE-P, so it should be scrapped.


“It’s interesting to note that staff members have not been paid monthly wages since February 2015, with the letters of disengagement stating they will be paid ‘soonest.’”


However, the secretariat was said to have claimed that lack of funds was the reason behind the lack of payments, “while committee members are feeding fat with monthly sitting allowances and ridiculous ‘accommodation allowances’ for 2015, whereas their tenure expired back on February 20 (according to their appointment letters issued by President Goodluck Jonathan back in February 2012.


“It’s worthy to note that wages for all SURE-P staff amounts to N13million monthly. So SURE-P does not have a mere N13million to pay salaries, while Secretariat funds brought forward from 2014 was N200m? It begs the question- where are the funds?”, one of the aggrieved staff asked.


THISDAY findings revealed that in defiance of labour laws by the Secretariat, staff members suffered on many levels, apart from lack of payment of wages for months.


The findings further revealed that the ‘disengaged’ staff were not given a month’s notice of disengagement, so they are entitled to a month’s salary in-lieu.


“Sadly, former staff members who have given years of productive service to the nation through SURE-P have suddenly been rendered jobless. It is worthy of note that all the ‘disengaged’ staff members are in their 20s and 30s.

According to the administrative arrangement, the civil servants were seconded to the SURE-P Secretariat from their various ministries. These one are not in the SURE-P pay-roll, but they call the shots. They run the Performance & Operations Unit (Headed by the Coordinator, they are in charge of coordinating all SURE-P projects, as regards interface with contractors and dealing with all the bureaucratic matters involved.

Credit: ThisDay



My Take:
Hmmm... the last may not have been heard of the fallouts of the ousting of the Jonathan administration. It seems like there's going to be a massive sweep of anything Jonathan. Already there are 260 positions declared vacant for heads of ministries, parastatals and agencies, now this. This brand of change is a serious one. Nigerians are watching keenly and expectantly.

“TAMPER YOUR EXPECTATIONS WITH JUSTICE”, Buhari tells Nigerians-News

President-elect, Muhammadu Buhari, has called on Nigerians expecting so much from him to tamper such expectations with justice.

Speaking Sunday in Abuja when he received a delegation of Northern elders led by Maitama Sule, Mr. Buhari said his emergence as president came at “the wrong time” due to the enormous challenges his administration would face.

Mr. Buhari said the Peoples Democratic Party had virtually destroyed the country during its 16-year reign.

“”You know we used to have Nigerian Airways, Nigeria National Shipping Line and Nigeria Railways. Where are they now? Where is the infrastructure?''

“Now we have invariably inherited all the problems, especially in the north east. I am sure that you have heard about or seen the children recovered from Sambisa forest. Only the children and women are remaining while all the able-bodied men have been gotten rid of somehow. Some have been taken to as far as Adamawa state to be resettled. A generation has been denied education and health care. Infrastructure has gone.

“You can imagine what is happening in the high seas where up to 400,000 barrels of crude oil which we rely on is stolen everyday with the full cooperation of those who are supposed to protect it.

The price of oil has gone down and 90 percent of the foreign exchange we rely on comes from that.

“So, you have to convince your constituencies that we have virtually arrived at the wrong time and that they have to temper their expectation with some justice towards the leadership,” he said.

The President-elect urged the visiting northern elders to deliver his message in churches and mosques, saying that is the fastest way to communicate to ordinary Nigerians.

He said the people should always be reminded of the promises he made during the campaign which include the provision of security to the populace, employment for the youth and provision of infrastructure.

“The fact is that more than 60 percent of the Nigerian population are youth and most of them, whether they have been to school or not, are unemployed and this is the biggest danger.

“So, there must be jobs for these people as quickly as possible for us to even enjoy relative peace. So, security, getting job for these people and putting the infrastructures in place especially power, are key,” he said.

Mr. Buhari also said as a human being he might make mistakes, adding that what is paramount is to ensure that justice prevails at all times.

“The biggest message is to try and persuade the people that it is not possible to change the state of affairs now. It took 16 years and those 16 years, most of you know it better than myself, that Nigeria earned revenue more than what it earned from 1914 till then,” he said.

Mr. Buhari said he plans to quickly turn to agriculture and mining because it is the fastest way to get results.

“In other areas, you need to study them and dust all the books and studies and get people who are experienced, committed, who are technocrats to come and help the government and identify priorities so that with what is available to us, we can quickly make our people realize their hope for the government they have chosen,” he said.

The President-elect said he was particularly elated with the support he is getting from the International Community.

“One of the relieves I got was the telephone call I got from the President of the United States,” Mr. Buhari said. “I could feel the relief in their voices because they are people of conscience. Forget about religion, colour and development.

“They are people of conscience because they have reached a stage where they have stabilized their society and they are relatively secured both materially, physically and otherwise. They know we are in danger.

“Everybody was saying that Nigeria is going to the dogs in 2015, but even beyond our expectations, we have managed to go through and we thank technology for PVC and card readers because the whole exercise of writing the result, announcing them and asking losers to go to court does not make any difference.

“Those who defended the PVC and card readers made this change possible,” Buhari said.

Speaking earlier, the leader of the delegation, Maitama Sule, said the elders visited to formally congratulate Mr. Buhari on his victory at the poll.

He also said they came to inform the President-elect of the huge expectations from Nigerians and urged him to remain who he is and ensure justice and fairness to all, irrespective of regional or political affiliation.

Mr. Sule said the emergence of Mr. Buhari is an act of God because of the persistent prayers of ordinary Nigerians.

“Nobody expected that the elections would be peaceful, nobody expected that the elections would not lead to the disintegration of the country. By the grace of God, the elections were held peacefully. We are living in peace with one another by the grace of God, power will also be handed over to you ‎and we will be living peaceful thereafter by the grace of God,” he said.

Mr. Sule said he had consistently called for peaceful revolution in Nigeria and that the election that produced Mr. Buhari as president was a peaceful revolution.

He described Mr. Buhari as a man of God, a truthful personality, a man of integrity and discipline.

“Yes, you (Buhari) were a military leader, I have always said it that when you were a military leader, you instilled discipline into our society. You fought corruption and you gave Nigeria a sense of direction.

“I am sure you will not compromise your principle but you will bring justice, wisdom and diplomacy,” he said.

“Sir, it is easy, I know it was easy when you were a military leader and what made it easy was justice. With justice, you can rule Nigeria well. Justice is the key, irrespective of tribes, religion and race; justice must be done to whom so ever deserve it

“Mr. President-elect sir, we know what we have gone through, I will ask you not to discriminate against any‎ part of Nigeria but I will urge you to do justice to all part of Nigeria

“Mr president sir, I know you believe that one day you will stand before God to give account of everything you have done here on earth, I will rather prefer that you disappoint me than to disappoint God, your creator,” he said.

Credit- Premium Times


My Take:
True words from the ambassador of justice, truth and fairness. But the onus of the fact still remains that Nigerians have a lot of expectations, even the ones tempered with justice, for no excuse will be tolerable for under-performance. Of course, the events of the past few months have proven beyond every shade of doubt how far our democracy has come, and how much more it is willing to develop. it does not change the fact that there must be visible and tangible form of the change promised. It does not have to happen overnight.

EDSON ARANTES DE NASCIMENTO-Stories

I used the joystick to effect my favourite stunt-dribble on Roberto Carlos, who just slided towards me with enormous speed, only to feel the hard metal of the metal advert bar on the touch line. Next, I completed Ronaldinho’s signature leg-over on an approaching Patrice Evra, beating him ignobly, and laid my through ball in a mean minus to Iniesta. The crowd around me in the arcade cheered as I cleared Femi’s doubts over my superiority, systematically. In the euphoria, he actually hit me with his elbow, and in that momentary loss of concentration as I glared evilly at him, his Ferdinand had swept the ball off my Iniesta’s foot. He proceeded to reply my two-goal lead, relying on instant counter-attacks, and added his winner some minutes later.

He was trying fruitlessly to ginger me up when he knew he had won courtesy of a cheat, as we strolled out of the joint. ‘Abeg leave me joor, for your mind you go say you don win me now’.

‘IF SAY I NO KNOW YOU, I FOR WASH YOU THE SLAP WEY I RECEIVE YESTERDAY’, someone shouted into my ears, in a way that was meant more to hurt than alert me. He gripped my wrist, tightly.

It was Baba, my look-alike.

A-a’, Baba-o, wetin I do naa?’

Baba-o and I shared the same physical characteristics, height, looks and all, and though he was an acquaintance who fancied me too, I had been praying day and night I would not fall into trouble on account of his clandestine behaviours in the area. He participated in smalltime crime in the neighbourhood, did some harmless pick pocketing and sold petrol on a black market basis. I didn’t know whether to feel happy or sad that he was the first to reap the negative fruits of our similar looks and features.

He strolled along with us, and relived the drama that had unfolded the previous evening. He had been among the last people leaving the pitch, when suddenly he was accosted and slapped resoundingly by a certain woman, even before he had the chance to ask what the matter was.

‘Emeka, so I sent you to get water and you left that costly jerry can for thieves, eh? What is wrong with you? Why are you so addicted to football? You will meet me at home!’

‘Mama Emeka, no be me oo!’

According to him, my mother had come close, peered into his face, and withdrawn back when she discovered her mistake. Her face which had been contorted in anger straightened, and her pursed lips had parted in a shame-induced smile, as she had apologized. ‘Unless I don’t get that boy today!’ He will know me!’

‘Don’t worry, I will visit the slap on him when next I see him’, Baba-o had promised my mum.

I began to edge away from him the moment he told me that, for I knew his reputation for springing up such surprises, on the spur of the moment. I apologized from afar, and he accepted, calling it nothing.

The next Monday morning, I had woken late, dashed to the bathroom, and had a poor treat of a bath. My eyes were fixed on the Plantashun Boiz who were being featured on the morning’s AM Express show as I was drying myself, and out of the corner of my eye I made sure I got a good watch on my favourite meal on the dining table: beans and plantain. My sister’s presence on the table was a cause for the surveillance, and my worst fears were confirmed when she thought my attention had left its duty post, simply because Faze was explaining the concept of their reunion. Her hands had wandered and the mound of beans had lost a slice of plantain. I shot her a glare and she had recoiled, munching surreptitiously. I could take no more chances, so I descended on the food, and wore the momentary title of Zerrubabel, converting the mount to a plain in record time. I suddenly glanced at my wrist watch. 7.45 a.m. Good gracious Lord!

  I could not risk Senior Biodun’s whip once again, and I took a look at my elbow, where some serious damage had been done the previous week, at the instance of the same transgression of late coming. It had been aggravated, both in pain and in appearance, by a rough tackle I had received when I had disgraced a defender on Friday. I slipped on my underclothes, quickly peeling off my house wear first. I reached on the wardrobe for my uniform, and found it gone.

Grieved almost to the point of tears, especially when I took another look at the time, the rack, drawer, and every container which could house fabric in the room suffered varying degrees of assault, and it still was futile. My frustration had reached the zenith, as I returned to the living room to find my sister and brother gone, leaving me with no one to inquire further from. I was folding the forlorn room back into shape, and I heard a voice behind me the second time. When I turned, it was my father.

‘What are you looking for?’ The question was stripped of the usual touch of concern, and I didn’t fail to notice it.

‘My school uniform.’

He looked reflectively at me for a few seconds, and started.

‘I have condoned your recalcitrant activities in this house for some time, and I have had just about enough. I have also tried my best to bring you up as a responsible human being. But it seems footballing is more on your mind than your academics. To that effect, I seized your uniform. I bought it with my money, and I will keep it till Bill gets to its size, since you both attend the same school. Good luck, and may you make the English Premier League.’

I just stared on woodenly at him. He was shaking his car keys, waiting for me to react, but he was disappointed. He walked away, but returned again.

‘Don’t you have training today? You can go, so I can lock my house.’

Without a word, I slipped into something good, and started out of the house. Watching me all the way, he followed behind. I got to the balcony and made my self comfortable, his eyes still on me. When it became obvious he was going to get none of my tears and entreaties, and a possible loss of face was imminent for him, he went to his car, got in, and zoomed off.

I liked my books, no doubt, and I looked forward to settling down to a nice career one day, the identity of which I could not just put a finger on, but anyone who thought he could put me on edge with that, where my darling game was involved, sure had another thing coming. I was not just sensitive enough to get the hang of such a punishment. I removed my eyes from my father’s BMW as it receded out of my sight, and fixed my eyes to things that held more promise of interest on the street. Five minutes on, I got a run for my effort.

Some loud noise in the distance attracted my attention, and I ran out to check it out. A Toyota Hi-Ace bus was swerving from side to side, unmindful that there were two or three people sitted on top, with legs and hands sticking out of all the windows. There were flags as well, and when I saw the inscription, I shouted for joy. The regional finals! So this was what I would have missed!

 I ran to the middle of the road, and spread my hands high in the air in solidarity. The driver horned impatiently above the din of the noise, but slowed down when he recognized me, as I had expected. ‘Up Pillars!’ I shouted as I hopped in, and got in the feel of the moment. I stuck a foot out of the window, but was not satisfied. In a matter of minutes, I was on the roof of the bus, declaring my loyalty and daring anyone who refused to support our darling Pillars.

We were ushered into the pitch, green to the pews, where Femi and I had led several missions, and had been two trophies experienced, and better. As I was settling down to enjoy my milkshake, someone dropped beside me.

‘Well, talk of the devil!’ I exclaimed, hugging him.

‘So you are calling me a devil now, abi?’ Femi asked, pretending not to get the message.

‘Yes’, I retorted, playing along. He nudged me strongly, playfully though, while I treated his sneakers to some milkshake polish. ‘You were in the bus?’ he asked. ‘Yep’, came the reply.

  A loud boo took our eyes back to the field of play. Our Salami had tested the visiting goalkeeper the second time, and he had risen gracefully to the occasion. He was good, and we had to painfully agree. He had stood gallantly between us and the opener, time and again. His defenders were not helping matters, and he often shouted brave orders and instructions.

In the 88^th minute, Oba, our defender took a goal kick. The ball soared high, and was hotly contested in the air, but our Uche got the better of it. It got to Ike safely, and from there got a feel of the feet of Nasir, Ojo and Fash in an impressive flinging network. Its next port of call was Bash at the midfield, and he did the unbelievable.

In a show reminiscent of that of Houdini the magician, he dipped his foot under the ball sharply, and it spun forward furiously. That second, three defenders who knew his reputation surged forward, with intentions varying from retrieving the ball to making him lose his ankle. He made a beck, and believe it or not, the ball responded promptly, retracing its way back to Bash and causing a legendary collision between the defenders. Our cheering then accompanied him on his way to beating the last man helplessly, and slotting the ball past the stubborn goalkeeper, and coolly home. The net almost laughed, but managed to reveal a smirk.

The pitch was agog, and our coach was on hand to reassure us that the trophy was just two minutes away, and the game continued in earnest. Our goal tender was virtually on holiday for the remaining period.

Nna then got a lobb at the far flank. He spun the ball over the head of his opponent, and a five-metre chase for the ball began. The defender, who had the advantage of height and build over him, got to him, and sent both his legs and the ball to God in one sweep. When Nna landed, he punched the defender angrily, and a scuffle ensued. Every player on the pitch ran to the spot, and things began to get messy.

  I heard a swishing sound, and the next minute, my bosom friend lay beside me, beheaded and lifeless. When my ears picked up the sound of the explosion two seconds later, I looked behind me, and every supporter sitted behind me had been killed, blood splattered everywhere. I dove for cover under a corpse. Our wing had been hit by a rocket launcher!

There were two more explosions, and everyone struggled to the exit. When the third sounded, the population around the outlet tripled.  Someone axed it wider, and there was a stampede. Unable to keep pace with the hurrying and milling crowd, I fell, and my hands, feet, stomach, back and thighs suffered tremendously. Lastly, I had a large impact on my head, and I went blank.

  I woke to the seething face of my father who hissed loudly as I came to. My mother praised God.

My love for football has not waned a bit, but I am more careful these days. On his own, my father returned my uniform soon as I got well.

THE FRIDAY TEST-Stories

The prayer was long and tense. The room around him seemed to revel in the ethereal presence he had been obliviously been wrapped in. Like a scene from a cartoon clip, anyone peeking at him would sure be entertained and probably enthralled by the synchronized up and down oscillation that was the movement of his lips as he soundlessly connected to his Maker, with sleep-shut eyes and the straightest face that would ever characterize his handsome features. In between there would be loud flashes of some unintelligible language, and that posture and activity dictated the next one hour.

  It was Friday, and nearing time for Redeeming Grace Fellowship’s Prayers For the Needy. Shocked at the time, Edeme multi-tasked on brushing his teeth as well as straightening out the savagely forlorn bed  on which he had received fifteen vision clips, each no less than thirty minutes long. ‘Oh, my Lord and My Maker’, he moaned as he chanced on the part of the mattress where his fingers had unconsciously created a two-inch hole, as well as a threat to the oneness and unity of the bed sheet. He got hold of his bed sheet immediately, and his hands felt so sore. No wonder.

All charged up and humming the famous Israel Haughton’s You Are Alpha and Omega, he tidied the room, fixed himself a hot cup of tea and had his bath and dressed under the forty-five minute mark. Lifting his original King James Bible and accommodating it under his armpit, he slammed the door, locked and pocketed the key, setting his face straight ward and with focus. He had no time for any neighbour who would pull him from this hard-earned spiritual estate this morning with their banters and occasional tantrums. With disdainful eyes of more than ten co-tenants fastened at different points on his slim frame, searching without success for the slightest leverage on which to throw a tease, he crossed them, not even uttering a word of greeting. There would be time for that later in the evening, he mused as the bright morning sun caressed his forehead. He was sure that was the part of his body that obviously needed the Vitamin D.

‘Kishi! Abino! Kishi-Abino! Kishi-Abino! Ki-Abino! Kishi-Abi!’’

Though it was a rude cut into his meditations, he could not help admiring and laughing at the conductor’s skill at pseudo-naming his destination, Kishi, as he dangled from the weather-beaten Toyota Hi-Ace bus creaking towards him. The driver, fat and muggy, held the steering wheel with both hands like his body, soul and spirit depended on it as he bounced to a slow stop, at the outstretching of Edeme’s hands. The side door screamed open, just as the hinge showed promise of falling apart, but the conductor was on hand to prevent any mishap. It did not stop anything anyway.

‘Chance dey inside inside!’he barked, giving the re-hinging of the door his best effort. Edeme made himself comfortable at the back seat, and snuggled close to the window. In an attempt to open it a crack, the glass suddenly cracked on the rusted window railing. He knew it was time to hold his peace.

 The bouncing and jangling all the thirty-minute way to Kishi amused Edeme instead of frustrating him, surprisingly. Mid way into the journey there appeared a stranded Mitsubishi bus with passengers crowding round it, whose conductor was frantically flagging down other commuters, begging for a transload. He stopped when Edeme’s bus approached.

The frustrated passengers cramped into the bus hurriedly, and the people had little or no choice where to sit. He whimpered when a fat woman sank into the seat at the far end, consequently sandwiching him further close to the window. The remaining two passengers were equally weighty, but not as much as Orobo at the far end. He did not mind that much, but he saw and began to feel what should really make him mind.

    Due to the lack of space, the contact between bodies on his row was disturbing, and when he looked at the face that owned the body fastened directly next to his, he started praying earnestly, covering himself with the blood of Jesus.

   She was not particularly beautiful, but her face had this perk to it that was capable of jolting a man out of his sensibilities. She had dark lush brows, and eyes that peered deeper than you thought. Her nose and mouth testified volumes of the work of a master sculptor, and the red on her lips completed the damage, just as her skin glowed in the early morning sun . There was this pulling about her that was not just endearing, but tended towards being real. Though Edeme caught glimpse of her for a split second, he was way farther out of his spiritual estate than when he got in, and cursed himself and the devil when there came a throbbing between his legs. He intensified his prayers in his heart, calling on the God that saved Joseph from Potiphar’s wife to come on the scene, for he was finished. He thought that was as far as it could go, but got another thing coming.

 ‘Dis woman too fat’, she cooed suddenly in his ears, without restriction. ‘No vex abeg, make I relax small.’

Turning to face him, she heaved her chest on to his arms, and Edeme almost shouted aloud his supplication to God, as he sank deeper and closer to the window. Taking advantage of the space deficit, she edged closer, sparing no effort in making sure Edeme had a generous feel of her soft breasts. To make matters worse, she pretended to stare out of his part of the window, and faced him directly as a result. The state of the road and the bouncing of the vehicle added tons to his spiritual rout, and she kept her eyes on his mouth, which were reflexively mumbling something. Edeme battled hard between what his hands were going through, and what they must not do, to what the fair gaze of the girl was plodding him to. The battle was fierce and long. Both sides explored their strengths, and applied their most tested and trusted armoury. Edeme could bear it no longer, suddenly.

   With thanks to God for this leeway, he noted Stanbic IBTC bank as they climbed the causeway. Though it was at least three hundred metres from his destination, he knew it was better to hike the rest of the way than allowing anything to pollute what God had in store for His children. With shivery hands, he furiously knocked on the wall of the bus, signalling his intention to disembark.

Save some inches, she was practically lying on him when the bus creaked and croaked to a halt. She kept her eyes connected to his as he breathlessly made efforts to alight, as room was made for him. He finally jumped down, and expunged a large amount of breath.

The bus moved off some metres, and stopped.  Hands were waving at him.

He heard the hisses and catcalls, and turned. What was it? The bus reversed, and he came face to face with her again.

‘Your Bible’, she said, thrusting it at him. ‘Thanks. Thanks very much’, he shamefacedly said, receiving it.

Trotting slowly along, Edeme was grateful not only for the fresh morning breeze which coolly brought him back to life, but for the deliverance from what he was sure was the devil’s effort at scuttling his flow today. He got into the church hall, of course over thirty minutes late, and dashed into the sanctuary to sanctify himself. He then waited to be introduced. He got so engrossed in choosing the preparatory Scriptures, the most appropriate hymn, and general prayer that he totally forgot this morning’s episode. Then he heard his name.

  He stepped out, and mounted the podium.

Their eyes locked. There was now a blue scarf on her head. But he was sure he had seen that face somewhere. Slowly, recognition dawned on him. She looked even more beautiful now.

She stepped out for prayer, and knelt before him. It took him time, but he composed himself, and gathered momentum and anointing.

  Immediately, a Technicolor clip of twenty-five years of her existence played right in front of Edeme, even as he prayed.

   That was the solution to ten years of a strange ailment in the life of Grace, a final year Law student.

Three years later, the maids of honour were scrambling for her bouquet of flowers which she had thrown backwards, as Edeme, resplendently dressed, looked on, and then at his wife. Without warning, he swept her off into his arms and headed for the Toyota Camry 2010.

‘The airport’, he told Charles, his chauffeur. He fished out two tickets and flashed them at his wife.

  The Grange Hotel, Mailbu.

He thought she only saw the flight tickets, which read just Faroe Islands. She held her peace. There were more important things to say.

‘If you had succumbed to that temptation that day…’she said, her voice trailing off as she was looking directly at him. He smiled, and so did Charles, as he looked at her through the rear view mirror.

           INSULT, NOT MAKE-UP!- Poetry

Can I describe the disgust

Nor voice out the distaste

That floods my person

Meanly and ably

When that thing you call yourself

Becomes sore food

for my eyes?

Voicing out the distaste

Will only make my being unchaste

Throwing me in a hushed haste

To end all

That talking about you entails

And believe me

I would do anything

To gladly end the tale.

 I fret and sweat about chastity

But it’s all about what you make me do

Against the One

Who breezes my being air

Because You make me want to wish

I never had eyes

Or questioning the One

For handing you the lease of breath

Only for you to jab Him His effort

His touch of perfection

All back in the face, full?

You serve those reddened cheeks to my face

Praising yourself for being an ace

Even counting yourself first in the race

For my heart….hmmmn…you wish!

With nails I could mistake for talons

You attempt to touch me

You are even deceived into believing

I will be sensuously tickled

But counting my steps I am

Like a Walt Disney character

Waiting for the next opening

My legs touching my head

as I flee.

Your eyes blink and I pinch myself

Cos it has to be that dream

I shared with my father and got baptized

Ten years ago, without ado

You say mascara

 But I scream ‘Masquerade!’

Do I talk or not

Of that mass of mess

On your head

 I don’t give recourse to

a rat’s behind

If it is from Brazil or the moon

Dissatisfied with your Maker

Or joining Hollywood’s bandwagon

Is just the synonym

To showing me the gates-yes

Or me showing you the gates

Can’t you be natural?

Just for once?

Ogbonna Nnaemeka Henry.