Bury me anywhere but not in Nigeria

By Dele Oluwole

“A country where death traps are called roads, incessant armed robbery/police attacks on hardworking individuals have become a way of life, and where constant power supply can not be guaranteed for 4 hours a day is not worth returning to…… not many citizens leaving abroad would proudly call a country with so much evil credentials home” – Chukwuemeka O.O

Before asking for the heads of Nigerians working abroad that dread returning home please take the courage to inculcate some decorum in the Nigerian police force, repair the death traps called roads, and advise the rogues called politicians to grow up. Nigerians leaving abroad wouldn’t ask for too much, they are not even asking for 24 hours power supply.

Helping to build ones county is a civic responsibility but not when you know that your life could be snuffed out by a trigger happy half educated police officer for a paltry 20 naira note or simply for driving an expensive car, and definitely not when you nurse the fear that an illiterate lorry driver who can not identify a stop road sign can run into you on the motorway and leave you paralysed.

Chukwuemeka left the shore of the country for greener pasture in Finland some 18 years a go; he worked hard, became successful, and married a finish woman. He never minced words about how much love he had for Nigeria his country of birth; he was always quick to tell everyone how he cherished returning home. He believed strongly that life abroad can never be compared to the freedom and wonderful relationships enjoyed back home.

He told his children several times how wonderful it will be for them to finally return to the country where their father came from. He told them about the natural Owu waterfalls, the Yankari game reserve and he didn’t also forget to tell them how unified the people are in diversity. His wife was fascinated with the fact that over 200 languages are spoken in one country.

Chukwuemeka’s experience on one of the Finish motorways was the last straw needed for him to finally return to Nigeria; he had been humiliated by a Finish transport police officer who did not only delay him to the extent that he missed picking his sons from school but dehumanised him in the name of routine stop and search. Just two weeks after the unimaginable motorway experience he received a mail that his two sons will be taken away from him by the social security department because he arrived two hours late at their school and for leaving them unattended for two hours, they therefore do not think he is capable of taking good care of the boys. The social department also wrote in their letter “on this occasion you will not be prosecuted because we have had no previous records of you abandoning your children”.

He thought there couldn’t be a better time to return to his beloved country, he therefore proudly decided to start planning his final return to Nigeria. It would be an understatement if one says his wife and children were in high spirits when he broke the news to them; they were so delighted and thought the relocation would be the best thing to have happened to the family at that time.

The news of their return soon got to his neighbours as his children announced it proudly at school. Before long, he put up his house for sale and because of the location the house was gone in just two weeks. The quick sale of the house exhilarated the family as delay in selling the house could have probably been the only setback to their dream of returning home and would have spelt doom for them.

His wife shopped for light clothing for the family while Chukwuemeka spent most of his time on the phone sealing the deal of a temporary duplex accommodation in the GRA area of Ikeja. Three days later they were received at the MM international airport by family and friends. The warm reception at the airport was a moment that will for long be treasured by the children and his wife. Chukwuemeka couldn’t be happier as he was proud to have his family warmly received by his people.

The wife was eager to explore Lagos, the populous city of aquatic splendour, so neither the obscenity of the rickety Molue buses nor the maddening scenes that characterise places like CMS, Ojuelegba, and Oshodi during peak hours come as a surprise to her and the children as Chukwuemeka had already prepared their minds well in advance. Two weeks after arriving in Nigeria their experience in the country was full of fun as everything was moving on well like the script from a movie until one Saturday night.

They had gone out to attend the birthday party of one of Chukwuemeka’s friends from university days, when they got back home they immediately retired to the bedroom while the children got busy with the Nintendo game in the living room. The bedroom door suddenly opened unusually and instantly without turning, with a tone heralding authority Chukwuemeka’s wife reminded the children the need to go to bed immediately when out of the blue a thunderous slap with deafening sound like thunder landed on her left cheek.

Chukwuemeka who was half asleep woke up terrified to find his two Sons escorted into the room with their wrists tied behind their back, behind them were three gun totting robbers who now ordered everyone in the room to go flat on the floor. The robbers took away all they had; money, clothes, and jewelleries. The armed robbers asked for their Finish passports, that was just the clue they needed to conclude that the robbery operation was an inside job with first hand information about them, but fortunately for the Finish returnees their passports where at the Malaysian embassy where they had applied for tourist Visas a day before.

The encounter with the armed robbers was so traumatic for the children that they remained awake for many nights; the children’s agony coupled with his wife’s pressure to return to Finland made Chukwuemeka’s decide it was time to go back to Finland with his family. On the night of departure, the children’s joy had no bound and as they travelled through Ikeja to the MM international airport their car was flagged down at a police check point just three miles away from the airport. They were immediately ordered out of the car to be identified. The leader of the uniformed men took Chukwuemeka into the police vehicle, showed him locally made short guns, and said “cooperate otherwise my boys will spray you all and brand you as escaping armed robbers”. Their four luggages which had their passports were taken away and never recovered.

The next day, they were at the Finish embassy for the travel documents that would enable them return to Helsinki. The visa officer told Chukwuemeka to go and retrieve the passports from whoever he sold them to. She said she had lost count of the number of Nigerians with the finish indefinite leave to remain who falsely declared their travel documents missing in recent times, but his wife was assured 24 hours safe return to Finland. She was also offered hotel accommodation pending when her Finish travel documents will be ready. She did not only turn down the offers but promised not to leave the premises of the embassy until her husband and two children are issued Finish travel documents.

The good news is that the four members of the family have since returned to Helsinki in one piece but not after the knife hedge battle with the finish embassy that lasted for 6 weeks. Chukwuemeka may have returned into the pain of an adopted country but it’s far better than the incessant pandemonium of his country of birth. His two children were so traumatised by the armed robbery experience that they had to undergo psychiatric treatment for two years.

Chukwuemeka has since given up on Nigeria and did strongly warned his wife and children who are now 16 and 19 not to bury him in Nigeria when he dies, he once jokingly said he would rise if his body is buried anywhere called Nigeria. He kept telling his friends that his body can be buried anywhere in the world but not in Nigeria - not even in the Nigerian waters.

That’s what I call the fury of a man whose country lost forever.

Modern Mathematics

Equation 1 Human = eat + sleep + work + enjoy Donkey = eat + sleep Substituting, Human = Donkey + work + enjoy Therefore, Human - enjoy = Donkey + work In other words, Human that don't know enjoy = Donkey that work

Equation 2 Men = eat + sleep + earn money Donkeys = eat + sleep Substituting, Men = Donkeys + earn money Therefore, Men - earn money = Donkeys In other words, Men that don't earn money = Donkeys

Equation 3 Women = eat + sleep + spend Donkeys = eat + sleep Substituting, Women = Donkeys + spend Therefore, Women - spend = Donkeys In other words, Women that don't spend = Donkeys

Conclusion From Equation 2 and Equation 3 Men that don't earn money = Women that don't spend. So, Men earn money not to let women become Donkeys! (Postulate 1) And, Women spend not to let men become Donkeys! (Postulate 2) So, we have... Men + Women = Donkeys + earn money + Donkeys + spend money Therefore...from Postulates 1 and 2, we can conclude Man + Woman = 2 Donkeys that live happily together!

MOBITEL MD: My husband was shot …. and the Police pathologist disappears

…. a country to return to?
The Jigsaw puzzle created by Thursday’s mysterious death of Mobitel President, Engr. Alaba Joseph, began to fall in place yesterday as widow of the late telecom chief insisted that her husband was shot. Murdered!

Twenty four hours after Joseph died in controversial circumstances, his junior wife, Mrs. Folashade Joseph, told journalists in Lagos that her husband could not have killed himself.

Engr. Joseph, on Thursday morning was found dead in a pool of his own blood shortly after Kemi Pinhero, the Reciever Manager appointed by a commercial bank in Lagos to take over Mobitel Nigeria Limited had left his office, accompanied by armed policemen.

Folashade who said she was shaken about what should naturally be a period of mourning because of the media report that suggested that her husband committed suicide said doctor’s preliminary autopsy investigation has shown a perfect hole of about one centimetre width that resembled a bullet hole was found on the corner of Joseph’s right eye.
Looking downcast and fagged out, Folashade said she had to break the custom to challenge the crude characterization of her husband as a violent man.

Her words: "They say our Alaba killed himself, well we ask you to hold your opinion until the investigations are complete. Perhaps we might then learn how a perfect hole of about one centimetre that resembled a bullet hole came to appear on the corner of Alaba’s right eye.
"How a man who is alleged to have jumped to his death came to lie in a position which is totally at odds with any idea of a jump or any other action taken with free will".
"And why Kemi Pinheiro and his armed companions had to flee and leave my husband to die in a pool of his blood".

According to her, the idea that her husband killed himself over Mobitel’s debt to a commercial bank is ludicrous. "He was working level to reschedule the company’s debt, and had reached an advanced stage of negotiation with the bank. She said that the bank chose to appoint a Reciever Manager did not surprise Joseph. "What he had not anticipated, and could not have anticipated, was the speed and ferocity with which Kemi Pinheiro sought to take physical control of a company that he did not build".
Folasade also disclosed that her husband left their VGC home in good spirit, had no reason to run and jump. "The problem Mobitel has with the bank was not his personal problem. It was a corporate problem and even to look at it critically, the company’s assets alone can offset the debt", she reasoned.
In his own remarks, Prof. Fred Adegoke, the head of Joseph family declared that the family will not leave any stone unturned to get to the bottom of the issue.

The family head lamented the statement credited to Lagos Police command that Charles Joseph committed suicide. His words: "It is unbelievable that Lagos state Commissioner of Police made such statement when autopsy had not even been conducted.

By yesterday afternoon, however, the Inspector General of Police, Mr Sunday Ehindero, had stepped into thhe matter. Saturday Sun gathered that the IGP ordered that the four policemen who went with Pinheiro to Mobitel be detained.
They were already being detained at the Bar Beach police station as at the time of going to press yesterday.

In a related development, Association of Telecommunica-tions Companies of Nigeria (ATCON) has called on the Presidency and Minister of Communications, Chief Cornelius Adebayo, to bring about swift investigation of the circumstances of the death of their president.
"We urge that a judicial body of inquiry be empanelled to unravel the roles played by the bank, Pinheiro (who is billed to be made a Senior Advocate of Nigeria [SAN[ next week) and the Nigeria Police". ATCON further pleaded.

...... and the Police patholigist disappears
ABUJA— THE Police in Abuja have declared the pathologist that conducted the autopsy on the late MOBITEL boss, Mr. Charles Alaba Joseph, wanted following the discovery that he (Police pathologist) had absconded. The pathologist had shocked the world when he revealed in the autopsy report that the late Mr. Joseph did not commit suicide as widely reported but that he was killed.

The controversy surrounding the claims and counter claims by both the family of the deceased and his business associates had prompted the Inspector-General of Police, Mr. Sunday Ehindero, to order that the Force Criminal Investigations Department take over the case. It was during the investigations by the FCID that it was discovered that the Police pathologist had absconded.

Pressed to disclose what could have informed that decision of the pathologist to abscond, a police source told Vanguard that his life might have been under threat or that something unthinkable might have happened to him.

On how the disappearance of the pathologist would affect the investigations or the autopsy report, the source said he was needed to physically authenticate his findings.
On Friday, September 16, the late Mr. Alaba Joseph was said to have jumped to death from his Lagos high-rise corporate headquarters.
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The Nigerian Shame In London II: ‘Kongi’ Soap Doesn’t Wash Off Shame

By Dele Oluwole

“Woe to the wicked! Disaster is upon them! They will be paid back for what their hands have done” - Isaiah 3:11

The nose went hysterical with laughter as the eyes shed tears not knowing that it’s only a matter of time before it begins to drip uncontrollably too. An adult unlike the underage has more power of choice, which is why the weight of the law most time comes down more on him when he errs. And because it is just a thin line between what is expedient and what is good, God knowing fully well that men will attempt to hide behind the finger of expedience to perpetrate evil and hurt each other says in the Holy Bible that ‘not all that is expedient is good’. Dele Giwa paraphrasing the Bible said “Any evil done to man by man will surely be redressed if not by man definitely by God for the victory of evil over good can only be temporary. The responses to ‘The Nigerian shame in London’ part one where most Nigerians justified the shameful act of scamming is a pointer to one thing; that the Nigerian followership is as bad as the leadership. The followership is therefore fast breeding the likes of Babangida, Alamieyeseigha, Ofonogoro, Babatope, Ikimi, Abacha, Wayas, Uba, Akinloye, Nzeribe, Merije, Fayoshe, Tafa, et cetera.

Since not many people agreed to the exposition on the disgraceful attitudes of some Nigerians in London I have therefore resolved to further provide more objective analysis and culls of responses for the benefit of those who may yet have change of hearts to condemn what these scammers and spoilers do to affect our lives in totality, remember they are reading as well. They are our brothers and sisters as whatever affects the nose must take its toll on the eyes as well.

We have had so many terrible and heart breaking stories about Nigerians in the UK, shall we now sweep them under the carpet and pretend everything is alright? The nose suffers too kee! We have heard and seen people suffer directly as a result of the shameful attitudes of our brothers and sisters in London. An example is Jah Guda, response to ‘The Nigerian shame in London’ - Part I on the village square;

Jah Guda
“My friend has just started a business here in London; he set up two months ago and has been unable to open a business account with any of the major banks. Now he is trying to open an account with one of the building societies. It is a problem that affects innocent Nigerians and we all know what Western societies are like, they will constantly dwell on the negative, their argument is ‘good news does not sell newspapers’. Only last week another Nigerian was jailed for swindling £2 million from the bank accounts of Halifax building society customers, this made TV, radio and print news”.

The BBC got so much commendation each time they exposed bad Nigerians, hence so much search light is placed on us. Because of the recent development it has become a way of life for Nigerians to be the most delayed and interrogated by the police when stopped on the streets of London. A friend told me recently that a police officer stopped a Nigerian for searching and asked for his identity; he immediately claimed to be a Jamaican, the officer told him to keep quiet and said “I know a Nigerian when I see one”. ‘Omo ale ni fi owo osi juwe ile Baba re’. It is only a child that has paternity limbo surrounding his birth that will condescendingly point to his father house with a left finger.

A young Nigerian graduate who came to London to write a professional examination left his luggage that had his Nigerian passport in a car only to return to discover that the car was gone. When he reported the incident to the police he was advised to go and recover it wherever he hid it as they have countless record of false claims of missing Nigerian passports, so his report was not taken seriously by the police. He was stranded for weeks, overstayed his visitor’s visa, and lost the opportunity to ever return to the UK. Nigerians have become a source of cheap headlines for the media so much so that even the BBC Radio ran several documentaries on Nigerians. The most remarkable one was about one Mrs Owolabi whose charity organisation that was being partly funded by the government fell flat for the Somali bait set by the BBC. The undercover journalist uncovered how she has been a racketeer that was providing fake National Insurance numbers for employment purpose. I was ashamed by her denial when confronted with the recorded conversation she had with the BBC planted Somali, she even swore by her children before the BBC radio crew just to prove she was innocent.

We also read about the Nigerian born British Immigration officer that was selling British indefinite resident permits. When she was detained the newspaper reported that loads of fake resident permits were discovered in her apartment and also apprehended in the apartment was a young man who just arrived from Nigeria with one of those fake permits.

Some people dread to associate with Nigerians and those who dare pay dearly by being on guard 24/7; an example is Patricia M. Daboh who responded to “The Nigerian shame in London part I” posted on http://www.nigeriansinamerica.com

Patricia the Valour
“Hello. I really enjoyed your article. Although I am not Nigerian, I too, feel what you are feeling. I am an African American woman who married a Nigerian man on January 4, 2007 in Apapa, Lagos, Nigeria. Ever since I told my family and friends about my choice, I have had to be on the defense. It is like the mention of the word Nigeria brings distaste to many people, for Nigeria is well known for scams. I walk in the bank and I see signs about not doing any business dealings with Nigerians. My husband and stepson should join me in the states next month, and still, people tell me to "be careful" with him. One thing I did not know is that Nigerians were known for their athletic ability. That is very good to hear! I really never knew what mixed couples go through, but now I do. It is like I go around with my fist up on the inside always ready to defend my decision and my husband if someone says something very insensitive about him and my stepson. Although Nigerians are well known in America for their schemes, that does not mean all Nigerians are like that. I met many Nigerian people that were humble, lovely, honest, and kind. Unfortunately the number of Nigerians that take advantage of people are increasing yearly. I get an e-mail from Nigeria telling me I have won a lottery . .and you know the rest. Recently, someone e-mailed me and asked me to help a teengage, Nigerian boy. Although she never asked me for funds directly, she sent me correspondence of the conversations she had with this supposedly teenage boy, and in those e-mails, he did ask her for funds. She responded that she was unable to help him. I wrote an article (blog), and she got my e-mail address and contacted me that way. She asked me to help him! However, my stern reply let her know that I would "never" send funds to anyone in Nigeria, or America, without personally knowing the person. How do I know his story is true--I don't? How do I know that she and this person are not working together--I don't. I was taken advantage of by a person who identified himself as a Nigerian man, and I will never put myself in that position again! If I do not know you personally, I do not loan or send you funds or do anything financial on your behalf--bottom line!! With all this deception going on, one has to be careful. So although I am not Nigerian, I still feel the shame of Nigeria's bad reputation. When Nigeria's economic situation is changed, then perhaps the schemes will decrease. Desperate people, although that is no excuse for manipulation, sometimes do desperate things! Excellent article . . .I know how you feel.”

Some Nigerians prefer to pour out their venoms on writers who dare to write on topics like this instead of addressing the subject matter and condemn the perpetrators. They claimed the articles labels and that it’s just a way of lazily re-echoing what they already know. If they know it why have they not done anything about it? They should remember that no amount of garnishing will change evil because evil will always remain evil. ‘Ti ako ba sofun Obayeje pe on baye je aro pe awon jo tu Ilu se ni’ If you don’t confront a clandestine saboteur he’ll think you are together in the business of nation building’. When we keep quiet we do not only condone this appalling acts, we also support them in principle. ‘Woe unto them that keep quiet in the face of crises’. A Nigerian who was not bold enough to disclose his identity responded to Patricia M. Daboh comment on part 1 of this article posted on http://www.nigeriansinamerica.com/

The anonymous Villain
“Yeah, yeah another Naija bashing! Cant we get something else to talk about? I feel your concern but I must say I feel the Western media are just magnifying the issue of Nigerian scammers just as they magnify the issue of Blacks on welfare (for your inf. do you know there are more whites on welfare than blacks?) but you will never know becoz the media with thier hidden agenda continue to show and publicize only blacks on welfare. As for the case of 419. It is share greed on the part of the duped that make them get duped in the first place! How can I tell you I have an unclaimed amount of money and I need your account and a token amount to clear it and you believe? Where do you know me from? The internet? You see what I mean? I do sympathize with the scammed but there is a spiritual law that says what goes round comes round or chicken come to roost. White people from the time of Christopher Columbus have raped, duped and cheated natives of their land and rightful inheritance. Its no surprise to me we are witnessing this on their descendants. When you sow the wind, you reap the whirl wind. Nuff said!”

……..and Patricia fired back some scud missiles:
“No one is bashing Nigeria, but it cannot be denied, especially by those of us who receive weekly e-mail schemes from Nigeria asking for our help in trying to retrieve funds from some type of lottery, that Nigeria is known for its many schemes. We are not making up these things, but it is really happening to many of us! If something is a fact, than it is a fact. And until those facts change and are replaced by more positive facts, than, unfortunately, the numerous schemes that come out of Nigeria will be the focus. Of course, the recent elections, and all the negative things that happened during the elections, does not help Nigeria's image as well. Every country is known for something positive and negative. Unfortunately, again, this seems to be a time when the world is focusing on all the negative things that are coming out of Nigeria (schemes, poverty, electricity shortages, and fraud). If anyhone is tired about the negative things that are being said about Nigeria, which I fully understand your feelings, than write a positive article about Nigeria. Give readers something positive to focus on to balance out the scale of people's negative perception of Nigeria”.

On a final note, If it will take a non Nigerian who by marriage has become one of us to hammer home the truth that will sink in us so be it. ‘Oloorun kin gborun arere’. A stinky person does not perceive himself. Until we decide to address and uproot the source of the shame in our own little ways nothing will change, shame is shame and no amount of laundering can remove it …… not even the popular ‘Kongi’ soap.

“Woe to the wicked! Disaster is upon them! They will be paid back for what their hands have done” - Isaiah 3:11

British Terrace Houses: ‘Nigerians A Step Ahead’

By Dele Oluwole

My father gave me an invaluable advice some years a go, he said ‘never step out of your door to attend a party or visit a friend without first killing your appetite’. In order words, don’t always anticipate that food will be served at parties or wherever you’re visiting. He said ‘when you go to parties with at least a half full stomach you will be saved from unnecessarily salivating each time you anticipate to be served or when you are harassed by nice aroma from the kitchen. You will be able to at least watch with rebuff and enjoy your party when some rude waiters deliberately pass you by without asking to serve you. You can afford to ignore whoever thinks he’s got the exclusive right to serve you whenever he deems appropriate, especially ‘Owanbe’. Kabba people will say ‘elu le eda tinu oni nu’. You don’t loose what is in your stomach when you stumble or fall flat on the ground. But contrary to my father’s words of wisdom I make sure I visit my friends in the UK who leave in terrace houses in empty stomach.

My uncle was in the UK for a visit and was amazed to realise that he had to pass through the kitchen to get into the toilet. He wondered if this is the so called British civilisation where there is a thin wall between where you upload and offload. He said ‘no one will ever design such houses in Nigeria’. I said ‘but Uncle these people taught us architectural engineering’ and building technology. He replied ‘Aburo, forget this ‘Oyibos’, when they do mistakes because of the investment they’ll always claim it’s a new fashion or new design ….. they don’t admit to error easily’ I then suddenly remembered that Nigerian houses are designed in a way that toilets and kitchens are far apart. I know we do not appreciate these two sides of our lives being too close probably because of the associated discomfort, but not the British anyway.

I remember visiting a family friend and when I requested to use what the Americans will call rest room for the big one, I excused myself, walked through the kitchen where my friend’s wife was preparing some ‘Edika-hikon’ and ‘eba’. When I eventually started to launching I was careful not to allow nature make the usual blast. I was managing and managing until nature decided to disappoint, suddenly a very loud and heavy one that its reverberation could be likened to the 27th January 2002 Lagos bomb blast came down. I couldn’t believe the sound myself knowing fully well that whoever was in the kitchen would have heard the mismanagement. Because of my heavy carbohydrate diets I do not need anyone to tell me that noise of blasts escape from the toilet whenever I engaged it, so I would normally take extra caution especially when not doing it at home. Some measures I take to envelope the noise include running the tap or singing praise songs at the top of my voice.

In Nigeria you don’t need to play such games just because you are in a toilet, you have a master bed room or guest toilet where you can blast off the roof. Sorry, not only that, the conductors shouts of Och-uo-di, mushi, Agege, CMS, Oju-ele-gbaaa, hold ya chey-sssh will help to douse the blasting. Nigerians are so civilised that aside their houses being great architectural designs also make sure that toilets and kitchen are at the two extremes of their houses. In the popular ‘face me I face you’, you will have to walk about 10 metres from your room to use the rest room.

Aside decency it is only hygienic that the toilet and kitchen are far apart from each other as your visit to the toilet is like granting the bacteria in the toilet visa to the outside world and it is not impossible for the stubborn ones among them to seek asylum in the kitchen as you walk through. The excuse the British gives for the poor terrace design is that in the 50s the houses where built with separate toilets that had to be shared among four or five houses ….. hoops! Were there bathrooms then? No, how then did they clean up? During winter once in a week, and in summer thrice a week soaked towel was the answer. Whereas In the 50s in Africa I remembered my Dad saying they do the big one in the bushes far from the villages and farms and bathed in moving streams and waterfalls.

Talking of discipline now, when I was growing up I dared not attempt to visit the toilet while at the dinning, if I did then I must not return to continue eating. My Dad believes it’s covetous to attempt to offload your bowel in order to make room for unfinished food. So, its either you visit the toilet to offload your bowel before joining him at the dinning or load to offload later. Unlike Nigerians who are so considerate that they don’t clear their nostril in the public places as those around may be offended, in the UK I have seen instances in the bus or train where people openly blew their nostril into tissue papers or handkerchiefs. I remember two occasions in the canteen where people cleared their nostrils with heavy blast while I enjoyed the popular fish and chips. If this is done in Nigeria you will be openly reprimanded.

Most average Nigerians at least can afford flats with master bed room, but since my sojourn in Europe aside hotel rooms I have only come across master bed room twice. I have never been to America so I wouldn’t know their pattern of house design. I guess Nigerians have overtaken their colonial masters in this aspect, I wonder if we can overtake them in other areas like politics and technology as well.

My friend who was a manager in an IT firm in Port Harcourt had a well furnished and air conditioned three-bed room flat with a master bed room only to arrive in London where he had to share a two-bedroom flat with five other guys and a lady. They take their turn on the single toilet and bathroom, so to hear blasts from the toilet when cooking in the kitchen became a way of life. He said for the first 3 months it was difficult for him to cope with the fact that toilet and kitchen are together. He is now established in the UK and when he moved out of the terrace he rented another one where he stays with his wife and kids as he no longer see anything wrong with it. I am sure he will not build anything like a terrace house when he returns back to Nigeria.

Monkey no come back from Market

A 37-year-old herbalist, Monsuru Alimi, is now gnashing his teeth in a police cell, regretting refusing to heed the warning of his oracle not to perpetrate crime.
The suspect, who claimed to be an Ifa priest, was arrested along with two others for armed robbery at Ijegun in the Alimosho Local Government Area yesterday.
He said the oracle warned him that trouble was looming for him and his gang if he persisted in criminal activities.
Confessing
•L-R: The robbery susptects, Prince Ubah, Ugochukwu Gabriel and the herbalist, Monsuru Alimi. Photo: Olatunji Obasa.to policemen at the Area ‘G’ Police Divisional Headquarters, Ogba, shortly after they were nabbed and handed over by policemen from Ijegun Police Station, Monsuru admitted that greed and selfishness landed him in trouble.
The three robbery suspects Ugochukwu Gabriel, 21, of 39, Alhaji Suleiman Street Ijegun; Prince Uba and Monsuru Alimi of 1, Alhaji Monsuru Street, Ijegun, were arrested after allegedly breaking into a shop owned by Mallam Seidu Amodu at gunpoint around 2 a.m. yesterday.
According to sources at Area ‘G’ where they are being detained for further investigation by the anti-robbery team ‘E’ led by Corporal Emmanuel Orobiyi, the gang must have been operating for a long time.
This is because in their earlier confessions to the police at Ijegun, one of the suspects, Ugochukwu, was said to have explained how the herbalist, Monsuru, had led them to an operation in Mushin.
“It was Nuru that introduced me to this business (robbery). I was selling Tokunbo handsets and undertaking phone repairs when I met Monsuru who was then living at Mushin through Nuru.
“Mosuru introduced us to the Mushin Operation where we robbed an Igbo Man who sells hot drinks,” Ugochukwu said.
On how they came about the locally made pistol found on them, Ugochukwu and Monsuru traded blames.
They accused each other of being the owner of the firearm.
While Monsuru claimed that he helped Ugochukwu to retrieve the said gun from Nuru, Ugochukwu denied knowing anything about the gun, adding that the operation in the Mallam’s shop was carried out with scissors and not gun.
He said he was surprised when the gun was retrieved from Monsuru.
The suspects through their confessions were able to expose the fact that they belong to a secret cult known as Eye Confraternity, and that they were introduced for “Initiation and blending” by Nuru, the cult leader cum gang leader.
Nuru was introduced to them by Monsuru.
In his own confession, Prince Uba said that was the first time he would operate with them, and that it was Ugochukwu who invited him for the operation in the Mallam’s shop which they carried out successfully, and the loot taken to Monsuru’s house for sharing.
He said he did not know how the police were alerted and they were rounded-up with the loot and gun recovered from them.
Prince claimed to be an Okrika (second-hand) clothes hawker at Ikotun bus-stop before his misadventure into robbery.
The suspects who are being investigated by police constable Kayode Olusegun owned up to the robbery carried out in the Mallam’s shop which is situated in the same building where Ugochukwu lives. Ugochukwu said accommodation problem, as a result of the quit notice he received from his landlady, made him to participate in robbery.
Monsuru, who always assured his gang members that they could never be arrested because of his vast knowledge in juju, was intermittently saying: “Ha! Ifa warned me O! Ifa told me that there was no way in the operation, but greed pushed me into this mess.”
The victim, Mallam Amodu from Niger Republic, was speechless. He was only begging the police to ensure that his goods were returned, since that was his only source of livelihood.
Mr. Mobolaji Odesanya, an assistant commissioner of police and commander, Area ‘G’, told P.M.News that the arrest of robbers has become a routine for his command, saying: “It’s our duty and assignment to apprehend offenders.”

culled from PM news (By Jide Osokoya)

http://thepmnews.com/2008/04/30/my-oracle-warned-us-%e2%80%94robbery-suspect

Dasuki, why hath thou forsaken me?

By Dele Oluwole

Before my MTN Nigeria final stage employment interview at the famous Philip consulting centre in the UBA house at Marina Lagos I never had a face to face conversation with a Caucasian. So, when I walked into the interview hall and was greeted by a panel of interviewers that had one, I was not only caught unaware but was also unprepared, perhaps I could have rehearsed how to ‘form’ like an ‘ajebo’ or even perfect my heavy Yoruba fake american accent, even if that meant I was going to sound like someone who caught cold or probably like someone who had hot piece of yam in his mouth.
I was astonished when Philip consulting gave me feedback two days later that because I did outstandingly well in the interview my offer letter would be despatched in three days. I was going to ask ‘you mean my heavy Yoruba accent did not betray me’ when it dawned on me that finally after almost three years of fruitless job hunting experience that I now have a DAF trailer light and not a green light beaming directly onto my face. The thought of owning and posing with a personal GSM phone for the very first time in my life just engaged my hitherto inactive mind; the thought alone amplified my adrenaline precipitation. Not anymore would I flip through the pages of the popular Tuesday Guardian newspaper for job adverts.
This news also meant no more gate crashing at banks graduate GMAT centres instead I will now be occupied productively Monday to Friday working for the Nigeria telecoms giant. I thought of how I was going to miss my friends that we engaged in discussion every Tuesday on interview tactics and the latest vacancies in town. Before the news from MTN one after the other this group of eight jobless graduates got jobs and I remember wondering aloud each time they broke their news of job offer to me when my turn will come.
As a young man I would not mind a ‘Tokunbo’ Golf GTi for a start. I want a first grade ‘Belgium’ car so that I could still relish the fresh European smell from across the Atlantic. I love to hang my jacket in the air conditioned car and cruise to work while I watch the helpless Nigerian people chase the popular ‘Molue’ buses for a ride to work. I told myself, ‘for once it will be nice to be on the other side after plenty ‘Ewa agoin and Agege bread’, boli and ekpa’, ‘Gari and kuli-kuli’.
Agege, Iyana-Ipaja, and Ajegunle, or Mushin, and Oshodi, are all areas I wouldn’t even think of living in. I would rent a nice two bedroom flat in a choice area. I know Victoria Island, Ikoyi, and Ikeja GRA will be a bit too much for my income, but I wouldn’t mind Surulere, Ilupeju or Anthony village. My first salary will at least be more than enough to take care of 12 pieces of nice packed shirts, and 4 designer trousers. I’ll pick up two brown and black shoes from Mandilas in Marina.
The news was now impacting on my appearance as I got compliments about my fresh and improved looks from friends. The first week after the good news I couldn’t afford to be out, hence I decided to stay indoor so I could treasure the breathtaking memory of the DHL man knocking on the door and handing over the parcel, and the excitement of reading through the offer letter that would state the six digits salary. I waited in vain as the expected DHL delivery man knocks on my door remained a mirage. I made excuses for the delay, perhaps there could have been some administrative hiccups. I was overly persuaded that the letter would have been handed to the DHL office on Friday and should definitely arrive at my door on Monday morning.
Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday of the second week were traumatic as they were the longest days of my life yet I waited full of hope. Very early on Friday morning, not wanting to loose once in a life time opportunity I dashed to the Philip consulting office to know what was holding my expected appointment letter. Philip consulting told me to contact MTN who already paid them for recruiting me and that they’ll have nothing to do with me again as my file was already closed.
On Broad Street, I waved down an ‘okada’ rider and in less that 25 minutes I was in the MTN head office at Victoria Island. While on the ‘Okada’ I told myself not this time, not again. I remember passing the United Bank for Africa (UBA) GMAT examinations. I was successful in the entire three stage interview; the final stage was a formal meeting with the assistant general manager at the ‘Oyingbo’ regional office. The AGM said he’ll be happy to have me come onboard as soon as possible. The HR team at the UBA house in Marina also confirmed to me that the feed back from the AGM was impressive the HRM manager then promised my appointment letter would be despatched in few days, two years after the letter is still been expected. I can not afford to fold my arms this time, so this time around with MTN I will not sit and wait, I will not take chances and wait for the letter to come but go after it - I will not even take 'No' for an answer.
I also remember that I got to the final stage of the Okoya’s Eleganza industries Ltd interview, I was at home waiting patiently for my posting letter to the Sokoto office only to be told that the MD sent in a name to replace me before the letter was despatched. Things happen so fast and disorderly in Nigeria that waiting for your turn could be termed as either been sluggish or foolish, in other words waiting for your turn is abnormal. Most teenage UME/JAMB applicants follow up their applications with the universities otherwise they’ll have to wait forever. We have heard of cases where successful candidates’ names in the UME/JAMB master lists were swapped shortly before departmental registration by Universities faculty clerks for money. I know a friend whose name managed to appear on the UME/JAMB admission’s master list after six attempts (six years) only for the name to be swapped by a faculty clerk before departmental registration, it took the intervention of his contact in the registrar’s office to reverse the disgraceful act. This fellow is now a senior bank manager in Lagos.
Sorry jare for digressing; at the MTN head office, I immediately possessed the land in faith even before paying off the ‘okada’ man with a battered 20 naira note; after all the holy book says ‘The earth is the Lord’s and everything in it’, so confidently I told the receptionist on the ground floor that I was going to collect my employment letter from the HR on the sixth floor when she asked for the name of the person I wanted to see. Chatting away in the lift were those that would potentially become my colleagues in few days I thought.
My joy had no bounds until a lady came out from the HR office to attend to me, she took my name, and came back to inform me that my name was not in the list of the newly employed. I told her to please check again perhaps she didn’t look well enough. She went in again, this time with my date of birth and postal address. The five minutes wait was horrible as I was not only pressed to use the gents but was also soaked with sweat, I also felt like sitting on the floor as my limbs were failing when she came out to break the unpleasant news.
I told myself, ‘I need this job desperately, my younger ones, and myself can only survive the economic adversity if I can manage to secure a job very soon’; I therefore have to put in everything this time to ensure my name is not swapped. I approached the Dad of a friend who is a Turaki in Niger state if he could help. He didn’t have a friend or relative in MTN so he advised that I should go and investigate if there is a northerner among the board members. I was delighted and began to flip through old newspapers for any clue on northerners holding any senior post. My eyes were crammed with tears of joy when I saw Mallam A. Dasuki as one of the directors.
Immediately the Turaki using his official letter headed paper gave me a note written with his prestigious green pen for Mallam A. Dasuki. The letter boosted my already bruised ego, carrying my ‘trophy’ I walked out of the Turaki’s office in a macho man style; even though I had the letter in a file that had seen better days I still secured it firmly under my armpit. On my way home I remembered telling myself while in the popular ‘Danfo’ bus that whoever will snatch the file must take me out of the way first.
The next day after a painstaking research I headed for Dasuki’s Victoria Island residence where I was told that he lives in Kaduna with his family and only comes to Lagos for board meetings. Before going back home I seized the golden opportunity to win the hearts of his domestic workers so that I could have easy ushering on subsequent visits only then did an MTN dispatch rider brought a letter, I was then told to come back on Wednesday as the letter could be a board meeting invitation.
At 7:00am Wednesday morning I was at Dasuki’s gate with the letter from the Turaki. I was actually standing at the gate when he was chauffeur driven into the house at about 5:00pm but could not see him immidiately because his cook who was a Calabar man wouldn’t allow me. The gatekeeper and the generator operator sympathized with my situation, and after weighting the various likely outcome of a brave move to knock on the main door I was urged to go ahead as soon as the light in the lobby comes on as that would mean ‘Oga’ was listening to the 9pm NTA news, the move will mean the overzealous cook will therefore have no choice but to open the door for me. Unfortunately, the cook fenced me off the view of his boss and collected the letter.
The gate keeper and the generator operator seeing that I was discouraged assured me that the letter will be delivered and advised that I come back on Friday.
On Friday I waited to see Dasuki from 7:00am till 9:30pm. At about 10pm he walked a lady friend to her car. Standing by the car they chatted for about five minutes, I took caution as I waited patiently for him to dismiss the lady who I later discovered was one of MTNs’ general managers. As the lady drove off I took carefully calculated steps then approached him, introduced myself and reminded him of the letter. Looking at me scornfully he walked towards the door and advised me to go home and wait for MTN.
This response to me meant I would have to wait till eternity, obeying the dogged instinct even though I was formally dressed I immediately went on my knees as I begged him to help investigate why my offer letter was not dispatched. Looking back at the responsibilities I must shoulder even as a job seeker I summoned more courage from wherever it was coming from to further request that a note on his business card for the HR manager will go a long way. He stopped to turn around, looked at me on the ground, hissed and finally went for the front door without looking back again. I stood up, dusted my shirt, and with my head bowed in shame headed for home.
I am not sure yet if he’s the new Minister of State recently appointed by the Nigerian President Umaru Musa Yaradua, if he is what input then can we expect from such a minister?

'Oga don go defence head-kuatas for Lagos'

By Dele Oluwole

“You won see oga? For wetin? O ga don go defence head-kuatas for Lagos, na dia be im new office now”. It’s about eight years now yet the memory of this remarkable conversation have registered itself indelibly in my mind. Suddenly this afternoon the event again restored itself in my mind and I can remember very well just like it occurred 24 hours a go.
I had just completed the national youth service corps and was in dire need of a job to keep the battered body from failing and the soul from going astray. Five days before the conversation with this army sergeant I had visited the naval headquarters in Abuja to see a navy admiral after obtaining the Nigerian Defence Academy (NDA) officer short service form as a graduate. I remember holding the form tightly like a trophy as I was among the lucky few who took the initiative to travel from Lagos to Abuja for the priceless form as the army headquarters in Lagos claimed it had run out of forms, but the same form was still exclusively available for applicants that could afford to part with the unofficial N5000, this development was coming principally at a time when the last NYSC stipend, ‘alawi’ in my account had been expended on public transport to interview venues.

I couldn’t afford the supposedly free form that was being obtained for N5000, instead of climbing the mountain I thought of a way round it, and that was after a tip off from a friend that the same form was available for free in the federal capital territory, Abuja. That evening I decided to embark on an impromptu trip to Abuja. At the Oyingbo motor park all I had was N760 and unfortunately a one way trip to Abuja on the popular Ekene Dili Chukwu luxurious bus was going to cost me N750. I resolved to buy the ticket anyway and was neither bothered about how to come back nor what will sustain me while in Abuja. My immediate concern was to obtain the supposedly free form that was going for N5000 in Lagos for free; I therefore threw caution to the wind, after all I was already equipped to the teeth as I had originals of all academic qualifications, photocopies, and passport photographs, and some toiletries (Dailyneed tooth paste, brush, and Joy bar soap) in my Bagco (cement) super sack bag.

I was about handling over the N750 to the conductor when I decided to walk round the park for the last time, pay for the fare and take my seat in the Abuja bound bus when suddenly I heard a conductor calling out for 2 more passengers for only N550. I immediately dashed toward him and asked ‘N550?’ ‘Yes, come in’ he replied. I stood at the door, looked in the bus and saw that the seats were all occupied with a lot more people standing. I then turned to him asking where I was going to seat. He replied fuming ‘I beg commot for road if you never ready to go make better passengers enter, no be people dey stand from Lagos to Maiduguri for 18 hours?’. As I was about stepping out my eyes caught three people at the door waiting impatiently to take my place. In about 3 seconds I joggled my brain for alternatives and found none, with immediate effect of alacrity (apology, Chief Eleyimi of village headmaster fame) I took the fastest reverse ever to join my ‘comrades’ to stand for 9 hours bus trip to Abuja. After securing a standing space, I began to encouraged myself; after all I would still have some change left to feed with while in the capital city. I was not prepared to bother my head over the return trip and as far as I was concerned ‘I shall cross the bridge when I get there for now the most important thing is to obtain, complete, and submit the NDA short service form’.
As we travelled through shagamu and Ore I forgot I was standing and went into hallucination and saw myself doing well at the NDA interview and eventually offered admission into the academy in Kaduna for the six month short service course …… I passed out as one of the best cadet officers and was posted to the Apapa garrison command where I further learned the military artistry.
After 3 months as a fresh army officer graduate from the NDA we were all given N800, 000 loans to settle down and get a house privately as our flats in the army barracks were under renovation. We were each given the keys to a Volkswagen Jetta car. As 2nd Lieutenant officers the army could not afford to see us disrespected in the free Molue and Danfo buses in Lagos like the ordinary Corporal or Sergeant recruits. After 2 years I became a full Lieutenant, in five years I was promoted to the rank of a captain and in just 7 years an army Major rank was fastened to my shoulder by my commanding officer and I was immediately named the new garrison commander. After putting ten meritorious serving in the Army with frequent trips to Australia, Germany, and America for military training my commanding officer put my name forward to the Chief of Army staff for promotion to the rank of a Major General and suddenly the ‘bust’ driver shouted “we go soon reach Ajaokuta, everybody make una lie down. Na dia armed robbers road block always dey, I go fire pass for high speed, if you remain standing na your own wahala be that ooh”. I was very angry that the driver did not allow me to receive the next rank which may have shot me into the political arena of the country and put my name in the history book when I suddenly realised that I was standing and a potential target for the merciless armed robbers. I looked down and between my legs were two commuters, by this time there were two layers of people already on the floor. It was either I joined to start the third layer or remain standing to face the armed robbers fire force, this time in a real life situation, perhaps the bravery might usher me fast into a career in the army.
When I got to the Army headquarters in Abuja I was able to obtain the form for free. I completed the form and returned it for submission the next day and as I walked out of the army office a corporal approached me and asked if I truly wanted to join the army as a cadet. I looked at him and thought of what would happen to me if I should give him the answer to his foolish question, I calmed down and nodded gently. He asked, “Do you know a major general or know someone who knows any military officer from the rank of a major general or equivalent?” I said no. He laughed and said “that ya form no go reach Kaduna”. Immediately I knew what he meant, he offered to help me but that I must raise N27, 000 in 48hours for his colleague who could talk to a major general that can include my name in his annual NDA quota. I did not take the bait not because I did want to but simply because I couldn’t possibly raise the money. As I walked back to where I was putting up in Abuja I ran into an old friend who advised that a stamped Royal letter from the Obaro of Kabba to Navy Admiral Ajayi who is an indigene of Kabba will get me into the academy. I still had some change left from the N760, so I took the next bus to Kabba my home town but alas the King’s guard who took my name, father’s name, and grand father’s name came back to me that the Obaro said I should just go to the Admiral and mention that I was from him. I knew that was simply a road block and I understood the message perfectly and walked away more disappointed than I was before making the request ….. and I left in shame.
Those days, most time I do not understand the word ‘No’, so I went to a lesser and third class king, Obajemu of Egbeda, Kabba who was happy to give me a scribbled royal note for the Admiral in Abuja ………………… to be continued

I don’t care what you say, I am not a Nigerian

Written By Dele Oluwole

“I wonder the way you guys think a times; having Nigerian names doesn’t make me a bit Nigerian. I have grown to know no other country but Britain”. Man is not measured by the size of the chest but by the quality that comes out of him, hence, his nationality, pride, and patriotism are dependants of his heart and not on geographical location. The Holy book says in Proverbs 4:23 “Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life”.

A friend from Northern Ireland introduced to me his girlfriend whom he had spoken highly of several times in my presence. He once told me that the lady is everything to him and that he wishes to spend the rest of his life with her. Since he’s white himself, when he told me once that her girlfriend is a Zimbabwean I immediately wanted to ask if she’s white or black but quickly cautioned myself not to give an impression, so I was eagerly waiting to meet her.

When the white Zimbabwean lady and I got talking I did not just discovered that she’s black in the inside but that she loves Zimbabwe with passion and still very much ready to migrate back to Zimbabwe as soon as the despot Robert Gabriel Mugabe is ousted. She’s an economic migrant in the UK who was forced out Zimbabwe by Mugabe’s excruciating economic policies but yet still proud to be Zimbabwean.

She was born in Zimbabwe and her use of ‘we’ when referring to Zimbabweans was to my heart delight. I looked straight into her eyes while we discussed hoping to find a bit of inconsistency. She spoke about Zimbabwe, Mugabe, and past leaders with so much authority and conviction. While the discussion lasted she repeatedly spoke of Zimbabwe as home. I have had a few black Zimbabweans as friends in the University and colleagues in places I worked in the past, but never met one that spoke with so much love, and hope for this sinking country, instead they delete Zimbabwe from their memories once they went pass the last immigration officer. The once not yet granted asylum statuses are ready to starve to death in protest against plan to move them back to Zimbabwe.


Since nationality, pride, and patriotism are dependants of a man’s heart and not on geographical location can we then compare the burning love in this white Zimbabwean to most Nigerian economic migrants that were fortunate to hold Charley’s mum property, the British passport either because they were born in the UK or because their parents migrated here some years back?

If you were not born in the UK and you carry a British passport you’ll still have wherever you were born in Nigeria clearly inscribed as your place of birth. People in this category are scrutinized more at all European borders before they enter the EU after every trip out. Even if you were born in the UK, at employment or college entrance interviews, or when you engage in discussion with the whites they’ll still ask ‘where are you from originally”? Your being Briton by mere ‘pali’ doesn’t make you white, you are still black whose descendants migrated by whatever means to the queen’s land, the earlier you are proud of your heritage the better.
British Nigerians are quick to tell you they are Britons even when they have the sergeant inscription (traditional mark) on their faces. I remember deliberately asking the Zimbabwean lady where she’s from, and without mincing word with so much pride she said ‘Zimbabwe’. For a lady whose parents were chased out of a land they have farmed for 30 years to still have such love for a country ……. its definitely a function of a heart that is the ‘wellspring of life’.

I have met British Nigerians who will give you a good fight if you dare call them Nigerians. An uncle who was on his way from Switzerland stopped over in London for 2 days while returning to Nigeria. He went out strolling in the evening and missed his way, so he went into a convenient store to get help only to run into a guy who was speaking Yoruba on the phone in a bus he took earlier. My uncle breath a sigh of relief, approached the stranger with a smile, and asked for how to find his way to Cheswick Park. The stranger did not respond so he thought he didn’t hear his first question and asked again in Yoruba, it was then the stranger now turned and replied “I don’t understand what you are saying”. My uncle now became uncomfortable and said ‘but I heard you speaking Yoruba in the bus ke’, by now the encounter was becoming edgy and the stranger who was already fuming uttered “How does speaking Yoruba makes me a Yoruba or Nigerian? Sorry I am neither Yoruba nor a Nigerian”. The Zimbabwean asked me if I speak any of the Zimbabwean dialects, when I said ‘no’ she was disappointed and asked if I can manage to speak Swahili. She was desperate to go local with me, but unfortunately we didn’t find a levelled ground in that part of the encounter so we continued the conversation in the queen’s language. Such are the hearts, black or white that are the ‘wellspring of life’, they will always want to be proud of their roots, blend very well in a multicultural society yet still identify with their culture.
A Briton told me that when he travelled to the US for an official assignment the first thing he did after landing was to look out for a close British restaurant where he could always have his dinner.
The Indians, Thais, Pakistanis, Americans, carry their countries in their hearts every where they travel to but alas most Nigerians drop them at MM airport before boarding the Boeing 747 across the Atlantic.

The Nigerian Shame in London

Written by Dele Oluwole

I was having a nice time at work as some nice Nigerian indigenous tunes blast from my headphones. An uncle some time a go advised that I turned my eyes away from the monitor every 10 minutes to avoid an eye defect, I can not remember the medical name now but the symptom is blood clot in the eyes. So I turned my eyes away for another 5 seconds, looked around as usual and suddenly caught the eyes of a colleague who was directly opposite my desk. He smiled and I smiled back, he stood up, walked up to my desk, and showed to me his mobile phone that had a miscall from Nigeria +234805 …… as he smiled even before uttering a word my heart skipped hoping to hear from him that a Nigerian wanted to or had already scammed him. My fear is only natural having read and watched so much discouraging and derogatory bulletins about Nigerians in London recently.

On Monday this week during lunch I went across my office to order a pack of sandwich, as it was being prepared my eyes caught a caption on a daily newspaper that was on the table. I then sat down to flip through only to discover that a Nigerian is being tried in London for yet another scam that was up to the tune of £800,000. His name is ‘Ade’-something and in his late 40s. Among the many cars he had was Bentley, travelled to Nigerian severally with suitcases full of pound sterling, has lots of property and investment in Lagos and Abuja. He has been swindling people of their money in the group of a Jamaican woman and a British man for over 6 years. The judge who is yet to pronounce his judgement said the Nigerian will definitely be jailed and deported afterwards. We have heard of those who were jailed and deported only to return under different identities, so deportation is not a panacea.

In 2004, A Nigerian friend just came in from Denmark and walked into one of the Halifax bank branches in London to open an account. He was being pleasantly attended to by a customer service advisor who took his details and passed him over to the head office to complete the process over the phone. According to my friend the person at the other end was also polite as he took some more details and finally asked for his nationality, proudly he said ‘Nigerian’ immediately he was told to give the receiver to the Advisor who started the account opening process. The customer service advisor now said ‘sorry sir we can not open an account for you’. My friend demanded to know why and why the person he spoke with over the phone suddenly became cold when he disclosed his Nationality. I am not sure how reliable this is but I learnt that this bank has stopped opening bank account for Nigerians carrying the National passport.

The bad eggs among us have a way of affecting the lives of the innocents. My people will say ‘the trouble being brewed by a one ‘legged’ man will be shouldered by his two ‘legged’ brother’. I couldn’t open an account with Barclays bank in 2003 because the personal banker manhandled my passport while scrutinising it for likely defect; I got angry, collected it, and walked out of the branch. ‘Monkey no fine but him mama like am’. After all if the passport becomes roughened as he scrutinised it my immigration officer brothers for MM airport go ask for ‘entitlement’ before them allow me enter my country. ‘Bi ebiti opeku asi fi eyin fun eleyin’ if the trap refuses to catch a game it should be courageous enough to return the palm kernel bait to the owner.
Some years back we were known for football entertainment and gradually toiling the path of Brazil but today one thing synonymous to that name Nigeria is scam. Just type in ‘Scam’ and ‘Nigeria’ into Youtube search you will be amazed with what will come up.

The British postal authority, Royal Mail stopped employing Nigerians because of the BBC documentary in 2006. I watched the documentary in disbelieve as a Nigerian who was working for Royal mail and who is also from the eastern part of Nigeria opened his cavity wide and narrated to a hidden camera how Nigerian Royal mail workers sell credit cards. ‘Ole lo le to ese ole lori apata’, it takes a thief to trace another thief’s foot prints on the mountain. How did he know that Nigerians working at Royal mail sell details’ of credit cards in transit to syndicates outside? The BBC guys did a good job though as they trailed a syndicate, a Nigerian from the western Nigeria who did not realise he was been secretly filmed boasted about how he travels to America to spend stolen credit card, he even showed the undercover journalist who is also a Nigerian his Mercedes Benz CLK and house. ‘Omo ino lan ron sino’ The best intermediary to a Dragon is its child.

My Jamaican mechanic once told me that Nigerians have taken over the lead of scam from Jamaicans in London. He said gone are those days when Jamaicans were dreaded because they could swindle you of your hard earned money. The premise of his argument is the BBC news on Nigerians caught by British police helicopter unit who were dismantling Mercedes Benz for shipping to Lagos. What Nigerians are known for is fast spreading to other strata of the British society; a Zimbabwean family once refused to attend a church in the UK because the pastor is a Nigerian. I try as much as possible not to travel on the London public buses because of the way my brothers and sisters constitute nuisances either when speaking to each other or when on their mobile phones.

Back to my colleague at work o jare, this time it’s not what I was thinking. The Nigerian number flashed him several times; he wanted to know who it was and where the call was coming from. So he searched for the country codes thorough Google and discovered it’s a Nigerian number, which was why he laughed and came across to me for reconfirmation.
I breathe sigh of relief, oh God …. not again, not in my office, and not my source of Gari.

Go for a medical check up if you don’t snore

Written by Dele Oluwole




Even though my non-capital intensive research is yet non conclusive, I am in no doubt that the UNO or the medical council of any country will approve it as I have not spent a penny in this personal study compared to the British National Hospital Service (NHS) that has spent millions of pounds sterling researching into how to combat snoring, they even have specialist ‘snoring’ hospital.
I started my research into the benefit(s) of snoring in 1997 and the interest began when on a particular night during a group reading session while preparing for a semester examination with a new female acquaintance. We where in a lecture hall with some other students, at about 2am my body did not just fail and I dozed off but treated my female friend and fellow students in the lecture hall to some melodious snoring tunes that could be likened to the sound of the crane that demolished the Kubwa settlement in Abuja last year. The other students in the hall became uncomfortable and as they gestured and laughed my female friend had to stylishly and ‘technically’ wake me up. I became apprehensive not because the hall was filled with so many students but because my application for a date with my female friend was still pending and I felt the ‘bulldozer’ snoring sound I made may negate the success of the application. If you read on you will know if the application was successful.
What qualifies me as a researcher in ‘snoring’ despite having a master’s degree in computing? According to my dictionary, a researcher is a scholar who can, or will in time through learning and experience, demonstrate:
specialized knowledge or expertise, conceptual and intellectual capacities such as the ability to identify and frame key problems, to think critically and analytically, and to generate and communicate interesting and original insights.
· research skills such as the ability to use sources effectively, to gather and organize information, to analyze text, data and theory.
· personal attributes such as the ambition and ability to work to high standards, to take initiative and responsibility, to be well organized in one's procedures and balanced in one's judgements, to collaborate well with others where appropriate, and to take on board and incorporate constructive criticism.[1]
I have all the above so what else?
What qualifies my theory and makes me a notable theorist of the likes of Albert Bandura, Erving Goffman, and Lawrence Kohlberg even though I was born a year after Abraham Maslow’s death? My dictionary says theory is a framework for assumption-based logical reasoning.

Notable theorists of adult Learning and human resource development are Abraham Maslow, Albert Bandura, Donald A. Schon, Donald Kirkpatrick, Eduard C. Lindeman, Edward Lee Thorndike. I have been made to understand that some of them do not even have a master’s degree, so with due respect what makes their theories better than mine other than the fact that they popularise theirs some centuries ago?

Let me run you through the profiles of just three of the notable theorists; Abraham Maslow’s contributions include the Hierarchy of Needs. He is also considered the founder of Humanistic Psychology. Abraham was born on April 1, 1908. He earned a B.A. in Psychology in 1930 from City College of New York. He earned a M.A. in 1931 from Cornell University In addition, a Ph.D. in 1934 from the University of Wisconsin.

Albert Bandura was born December 4, 1925, in the small town of Mundare in northern Alberta, Canada. He received his bachelor’s degree in Psychology from the University of British Columbia in 1949. He went on to the University of Iowa, where he received his Ph.D. in 1952

Edward Lee Thorndike, was born in Williamsburg, Aug. 31, 1874, he was a major figure in several fields of psychology: learning theory, applied psychology, and mental measurement. [2] But he does not have a master’s degree.

Will the heavens fall if we include Dele Oluwole in the list of the notable theorists the world has ever known thus; “Dele Oluwole was born August --, 19--, in the small and beautiful town of Mushin in northern Mushin Olosha LGA of Lagos. He received his bachelor’s degree in Business Management from the famous University of Staffordshire England in 200-. He made the U-turn of a life time when he bagged an MSc in computing from Staffordshire University England, but he’s still working on his PhD in human anatomy and snoring therapy”. Will anybody question the audacity behind this encomium? After all charity they say begins at home, even though prophet has no honour except among his own kindred. Whether you like it or not I am a researcher plenipotentiary ……… ‘omo wa ni eje ose’.


My research into snoring is interesting because I have been able to collate primary and secondary data on instances where spouses slept in separate rooms in the house as a result of snoring just to avoid the other. My best friend’s wife vacated their room for the guest room the third day into their married life only for the husband to discover a month later that she snores like a rickety ‘Molue’ approaching the busy ‘eko idumota’ bus terminus. And to put salt on injury my friend made the discovery when they visited me and stayed in the guest room.

Even though no lecturer has agreed to supervise my research I have also discovered in the course of mapping the two snoring hypotheses that many couples are not happy sharing a bed because either spouse snore, even though investigation empirically shows that both of them snore as the research have investigated and postulated that only those who are unhealthily thin and lazy don’t snore.

My year 1997 female friend did not just accept the date that fateful day, we are still together, as my research continued I also discovered that she also like every other normal healthy human being, beautifully and wonderfully created by God does not just snore but treats me to some cat like sounds most night after a busy day at work or cooking at home, although she claimed she snore only when lying on her back but lets leave that to this research conclusion and recommendation that is expected in a few years time.
If you love your partner do not allow snoring to put you asunder and if you will ever want to call it quit because he or she snores, please put a tape recorder by your bed side to record if you snore or not or better still wait for the conclusion/recommendation of this humble and intelligent Nigerian researcher.






References:
1. Port Postgraduate on line Research Training; http://port.igrs.sas.ac.uk/researcher.htm

2. Adult Learning & Human Resources Development Program, (1998-1999, 2000-2002) Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University: http://www.nvc.vt.edu/alhrd/Theorists/theo~com.htm

Why the short and ugly are married I

Written by Dele Oluwole

This may be thinking aloud, I can not stop trying to reason why the Nigerian ‘Bobo’ end up settling for a girl he ordinarily would not go near at his ‘hay’ days when he was a risk taker, but now want to spend the rest of his life with seeing he has now become a risk averter.

When I look around I see nothing but guys who have settled for girls that they have better looks than, especially my ‘loaded’ friends. Each time I was going to be introduced to my friends’ spouses for the first time I was expecting to meet women of sophistication, elegance, and beauty, but instead at the end of the day the best among them was just okay. Whereas, these are guys that when they were in their ‘hay’ days, what I would call their ‘Shongo ode’ I mean when they painted Akoka and Yabatech red will not even dare to talk to such girls.

The decision to choose a life partner is not for the public to debate on which is why I couldn’t summon courage to ask my friends …… ‘but Bros this is the worst of all the girls I have seen you with’. I remember an experience some seven years ago when some of my friends and I told one of us a Banker that his girl friend then who is now his wife was ugly. He didn’t flair up at us because we were very good friends that can say anything to one another, but calmly he said ‘Dele she’s my choice’, the countenance on his face was that of please stop right there and don’t take this any further. Trust me, I persisted and he simply told me and boasting that in ten years time we should come back to re-evaluate our careers, marriage, and life in general to know who is happiest amongst us all, he further said ‘look I am marrying her for her inner beauty, the happiness and joy she will bring to my life will reflect in my career ……. You wait and see’.
My friend today is not just happily married with two sons but doling well in his career as he is presently a Branch manager of one of the top Banks in Nigeria. His wife has a farm that is doing well too.
Most Nigerian young men are looking beyond the ordinary; they grow to mature with time, to know that not all that glitter is gold. Between the ages of 20 and 28 they are risk takers that will go after the Ginevieves, Daregos, Omotolas, Tokunbos and Biancas. The risk taking is worth it after all as the tall and beautiful girls put them through experiences that become invaluable to them later in life.
I have a six footer friend; we went through the NYSC together somewhere in Northern Nigeria. He did not just paint the ‘Sharia’ city red but was going out with the most beautiful Fulani girl in the petroleum Depot where we served. Every skirt chaser in the depot had his eyes on her; even the depot chief made advances through unsolicited petrol drums and cash yet the girl wanted the young, penniless, and hungry Coper. I remember an instance where one of the lady’s numerous admirers or chasers offered to give her a lift to work, the lady did not just accept the lift but requested that her Coper boy friend come on board. Guess what? They both sat at the back while they were chauffeur driven by the ‘toaster’.
The interesting part of this story is that my then Coper friend despite working in an oil company with plenty ‘ego’ eventually got married to a girl the entire family denounced because of her looks but they are happily married with a kid anyway .

These tall and beautiful girls can not cook because they spent more time before their mirrors than in their mother’s kitchen. Don’t joke with Nigerian man and food. They can not stand hard times because they never had such experience. How can they stand hard times when they are chauffeur driven to school in their fathers’ car, when paid washmen and cooks are at their beck and call?
The Nigerian man aside listening to his Mother’s golden advice when its time to choose a life partner wants a happy home, wants to be in control, wants to be respected, and wants a woman that the entire members of the extended family can relate with. He doesn’t want the woman that will use his monthly package to shop for the likes of lipsticks, G strings, and high heel shoes. He of course doesn’t want to come back home to prepare his own supper. He wants a woman that will instil some level of moral values in his children, how can a woman who has never ironed her father’s shirt or help her Mum in the kitchen instil moral values or bring up her children properly or even iron her husband shirt?
If you meet a depressed man find out if he’s happily married, a depressed man’s productivity at work will be so low that it may reduce the company’s turnover and eventually affect the country’s GDP.

The short and ugly is never a risk taker, she will never gamble with her chances of getting hooked to Mr right as she does not get carried away with the euphoria of beauty like her tall counterpart ‘dongo si lewo or Omo ga’. Any attempt to carry herself unnecessarily too high means she is in her own world. As a teenager she already had her cross staring her in the eyes and carried it with all pleasure. She works hard to become an achiever, little wonder she passes the O’ level and JAMB at a sitting as those dangerous boys neither distract nor have interest in her. She will do well in the University and come out with first class or 2:1 because the campus landlords i.e. the cultists don’t take her precious studying time as they will not want to be associated with her type anyway. She will get the best of jobs because she worked hard to earn her degree grade as she neither bribed her way through nor offered herself on ‘a platter of gold’ to the hyena lecturers. The society sees her as being responsible because she doesn’t wear the offensive tops, the nuclear mini skirts or the ‘help me remove’ tights that I call big baby ‘pampas’.
Finally, she will be attracted to the Nigerian man who has sampled an entire city of tall and beautiful girls because of her high moral values, sensibility, and intelligence. She will be happily married and raise God fearing children ….. and who knows if her husband’s gene is very strong she may end up having kids that will grow up to become tall and beautiful.

At the end of the day who looses? The tall and beautiful who may only get married at 37 or as second wife to the pot-belly Alhaji who junkets around the whole world leaving her at the mercy of her driver or Tailor (‘Obioma’) next door. She can only get married to the man of her dream if only she doesn’t allow her God given beauty to take greater part of her, but will she? As everyone tells her that she is the most beautiful girl in the world, and that she has the nicest legs, dreamy eyes and alabaster skin.
You can not eat your cake and have it. It is either you scarify beauty for good manners or level headedness for an Ahlaji. The choice is yours, but I am lucky to have beauty, level headedness, and brain in my wife.

‘Labalaba’ and the Suya’s fire: why the short and ugly are married – Part II

Written by Dele Oluwole

I am beginning to think that the royal families are in a better world than the rest of us, or how else can one describe the late Princess Diana’s response to a TV interviewer when asked to comment on the imbroglio caused by (ask for my opinion of the Prince when I return to 9NJA) Prince Charles during the last lap of their separation. She was so polished and cultured that she chose to use a garnished phrase that “the marriage was a bit over crowded” in sharp contrast to what women in our world would use. The women in our world especially European women would prefer phrases like “my husband is cheating on me, my man is unfaithful, or my husband is seeing another woman”. And a typical Nigerian woman in Victoria Island or Ikoyi would most likely say “the foolish Man left me for a short and ugly woman”. Please ask why her height and beauty did not keep the man at home. Are you wondering how an Ajegunle or Mushin woman would answer? That’s for another day.

For every relationship or marriage there is always the third man or third party, I mean crowded by the third man ….. I am not speaking French here and neither am I referring to God, ‘Otio o’ please leave God out of this; He is the umpire that we will all give the account of our stewardship to.
Perception defers and whatever you choose to call the third person in your relationship is immaterial here.
Here is a play titled ‘Labalaba and the Suya’s fire’ (Professor Wole Soyinka can not do better) starring the tall and beautiful as desperate woman and Narrator as The third man. Please enjoy …….

Man – I love you
The Third man – you and I know what you want from her
Desperate woman – are you sure?
The Third man – She has been fasting and praying for this time, now she wants to know when you‘ll come to visit her parents

Man – ok, just tell me how you want me to show it
The Third man – Is he aware of the fact that you are not just rude and impolite but egocentric?
Desperate woman - The feeling I have for you is so overwhelming that I can not describe it
The Third man – It’s a lie, your feelings are 110% under your control you are even more intelligent ….. you have hidden agenda, didn’t short and struggling Chukwudi on your street propose to you three months a go?

Desperate woman - Honestly I don’t know why I love you so much
The Third man – No man/woman will be attracted to the other for no reason. Even though you are lucky to have a man showing interest in you at 38, despite telling him you are just 23 (na pancake sorry powder dey hide your wrinkles). It’s obvious that you can not afford to loose this golden opportunity. Isn’t that enough reason to love him?

Man – I am the only son of my mother, she prays that I marry a homely and God fearing woman
The Third man – ‘Mugun’ open your eyes to see that she is haltering you to the altar with her unusual ‘born again’ appearance. You are not just about to mortgage your future and happiness …… she will soon becomes the husband in the house to haul you around like a horse.

Desperate woman - If I am asked to choose 100 times I will pick you a again
The Third man – if given second opportunity to choose, you are gone. She is just managing you because you are her last hope or what I will call last bus stop since loaded Jude and handsome Kelvin ditched her

The third man is the truth, the reality, and the sense of reasoning in every relationship. The ‘olorunshogos’ that have ‘Aristos’ despite being already committed to serious relationships will go to any length to cover their filthy pasts.
The other day a lecturer friend who lectures in one of the higher institutions in Lagos ran into a couple in London, the lady was his old student and coincidentally the man also is a friend he lost contact with some 15 years a go. The lady knowing the escapades she was known for on campus and more especially that my friend is aware of her serious commitment to his neighbour Obiora in Festac town became apprehensive and restless. She will not allow the two old friends to discuss as she repeatedly interrupted. Desperate to abruptly end their conversation she dialled a number on her mobile phone, gave the phone to her husband, managed to drag him to the car and waved my friend good bye. She is intelligent isn’t it? What does she think my friend will gain from exhuming her garbage past that may ruin the man made fire brigade marriage?

The short and ugly does not have the luxury of gimmicks as she has never been involved in double dates, how could she have had such dangerous experience when there was no competition from boys to date her. She dreams and waits patiently for when the lucky man will come her way. She is not expecting men but a man as the very first to come knocking will not just carry the day but the honey pot as well, hence she will not be on the market shelve till dusk . But the spoilt, tall, and beautiful ‘dongo’ or Darego will stay till dawn to shop and shop for the best bargain at the high street market, so carried away with the euphoria of shopping that she doesn’t realise how late it is and of course when the dawn comes it comes unannounced like the African Mascara abi na ‘Agbepo’ at night only then will she realise that the Mr. right was among the ones she shopped and dropped in the day. Why did she drop the Mr. Right? When shopping you walk round the market for the best bargain, she also hope to enjoy herself, enjoy the shopping, and pick the best bargain only to realise later that the available is now the desirable for her. She has her own legal tender as well just as you and I pay for our shopping with hard earned Dollar abi na queen’s pound sterling, just that hers own legal tender is not man made.

The short and ugly is usually calm, obedient and does not believe in women liberation as her bible teaches her to submit to her husband because he is the head of the home. Unlike her counterpart she wants to contribute all her penny to the running of the home. The husband does not loose her sleep whenever he travels out of town, he believes in her to instil discipline in the children and to bring them up in the ways of the Lord so that they can become successful in life. Is it possible for a woman who wears ‘spagetti’ and micro mini to instil the sense of decency like moderate dressing in her teenage daughter?

The other day I met a friend’s elder sister who was happily treating herself to some cans of Heineken and whose husband later joined to enjoy in the binge. They have three teenage girls at home; I need no one to tell me the kind of legacy they are going to hand over to them because even though she was in her 50s I could still see her fading beauty, I was seeing the picture of a one time Darego who is now grandma Darego. There is no denying the fact that there are some tall and beautiful girls that are well mannered and a few ill mannered short and ugly ones. We all know the proportion don’t we?

If a man will allow the sense of reasoning to prevail only then will he realise that when a tall and beautiful woman says she loves him he’ll look around and guard his loins.
- That when she hurries him up for marriage he should confirm her true age from her parents
- That when she spends good money on him it’s her way of investing for ‘calculated’ dividends
- That when she calls the mother-in-law to be regularly she is ticking the requirement list to get the poor woman’s approval
- That he should watch out for cookery book whenever she cooks for him as the kitchen is waiting to be taken over by either the house girl or the man himself after ‘I do’
- If she keeps quiet during quarrels she is only waiting for the right time to give him a run for his money
- That he will soon return triple for every wrist watch, perfume, and shirt she bought for him after the D- day

During horrible courtship the difference between a wise man and the other is that the wise needs just green light to call it quit, while the other waits for ‘Molue’ light.