Valentine: Vibes from a Vanishing World

So its approaching February 14. There is love in the air. the radio, television, the internet and mass media are all awash with adverts and promos and the slogan is always 'in the spirit of the Valentine season'. Opportunistic ladies put on their best garb of behaviour, ostensibly to hook a partner down to 'be their Val'. Guys with the same labelling perfect their baits  and charm and wit for a nice good hunting and happy landing. The period is usually an interesting piece of entertainment, there being no end to the drama that is wont to unfold.

   I do not want to believe that the lion share of the enlightened population have not cared to inquire after the origin of this commemoration. One can easily understand with those who are only content with general proclamation of February 14 as Valentine's day as the only cue they need to indulge. Afterall, the information on almost anything one needs is there for the asking- at the touch of a button.

   In the Nigerian parlance, I  will not be wrong to say that the population is equally skewed between Christians and Muslims, which are the principal religions that make up our demography. but the hue and hype of the Valentine produces mostly Christian vibes... at least to the best of my knowledge.

  In all the accounts that chronicle the origin of Valentine's day, there has been one constant feature: sexual deviance and debauchery, or at best inordinate sexual relations outside of marriage, which is the Biblically prescribed visa into the foray of sexual adventure. While it is still debatable the veracity and truth of any of these accounts, that is a lesser evil compared to the glaring fact that a commemoration stuffed to the throat with such maverick show

A CASE FOR VIRGINITY

                                                                

Nature has a subliminal way of communicating to man its point of view regarding anything, particularly when its course has been altered, tampered with or even out rightly violated. It has its own fight-back mechanism, its exclusive alarm system that does not fail in communicating effectively how it feels. Conversely, when its argument is accepted wholeheartedly, there is a kind of peace, balance and cohesion that cannot be rivalled by any other solution other than going back to the drawing board, Nature’s drawing board.

  It is true that the concept of virginity today is one that is deemed overrated, trodden down and somewhat regarded as a Stone-Age phenomenon. At best, the exclamation one would get on hearing the status of the other would be a wow, and very few wows are that of admiration and respect, as opposed to the gamut of wows that are borne out of the feeling that the virgin is outlandish and not in tune with the trends and times. Some people actually go ahead to postulate obnoxious and spurious medical theories of health repercussions that would arise when a man or woman attains a certain age without doing the do. To crown the moral rot, most people run to town with these hypotheses, and actually act on the aegis of its fear, without a certain proof of its tenability.

  It is also as real as the midday sun, that virginity is a virtue which terms of reference has been unfairly restricted to the female folk. The woman is expected to be chaste and pure while waiting for Mr Right, while it is deemed societally okay for the man to go on a sexual philandering, exploring and conquering, for as long as he desires. While the society has handed the world wholesale to the man, it does not in any way negate the fact that what is good for the goose is good for the gander. Again, because of the perversion and the level of moral depravity that is the order of the day, even the concept of virginity has become departmentalized and technicalized. There are the primary, secondary and tertiary virgins, their definitions and terms of classifications as sparse as the Sahara.

  The definition of the term virgin is as simple as it gets-anything that begins to demand copious and repeated explanation to drive home a single point is a shady one, as i recently learned. For avoidance of ambiguity, a virgin is one who has not had sexual experience of any kind, requested or accidental. Experience here precludes everything that is not the fusion of the male and female reproductive organs-books, movies, fantasies, chancing on other people in the act, and everything else  in that bracket. As it would seem, the ones which fall in the accidental column would be the ones which the sin-charged atmosphere currently holding sway has forced on us, but the truth remains that an image, and opinion has been engraved on the mind of the receiver, which are most times unwholesome, and would take enormous mental and spiritual effort to erase.

  The consummation and height of the sexual experience would be the actual union of both coital equipment, and like the opening statement, nature has made it so that both sexes ought to stay innocent of conjugal experience until the marriage act is consummated. And like the stars, the advantages and blessings are legion. Even what is termed a disadvantage is often seen as such through defiled spectacles, and cannot possibly count where nature has already put a stamp of approval. If the man and his wife married as virgins, the issue of cheating and inordinate bedroom demands and desires are practically non-existent. Very few people know that since sex brought about human life, any slip in anything concerning it will automatically spell wrong for both the person and the larger society. The issue of low libido and lack of sexual prowess cannot arise, since there has been no prior experience to compare it with. The bond between the couple is second to none. There can be no boredom whatsoever. The procreation of God-fearing, sane and high-flying children is sure-banker. And i dare say, the route to heaven is straighter and easier.

It is because virginity has become utopic that the world spiritual and marital has been turned to an amphitheatre of drama, rot and riot. And Nature keeps watching, chin in hand, waiting for those who can retrace their steps and come crawling back to her.

Ogbonna Nnaemeka Henry.

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.