Promise

Strike Three – You’re Out!

Baseball is a sport that is not too common in this part of the world. Infact, had it not been that I’m a bit exposed to some foreign movies, I might not have known what the heading of this post meant. Just for the fun of it, ask any Nigerian University student what ‘strike’ means and you’d get the unanimous reply that it means ‘when lecturers do not go to work’.

I’ve been in school for almost 4 years now and I’ve encountered 3 major instances when the Academic Staff Union decided to go on a strike to force the Nigerian government to meet their demands.

Strike One! This came before I resumed for my freshman year. I can’t remember the exact details of that particular strike. What I remember, however, is that this strike lasted 5 months! Let me say that again in slow-mo: F-I-V-E-M-O-N-T-H-S. I was downcast. Almost depressed. My classmates in secondary school were almost through with their freshman year in the private universities they opted for by the time the strike was called off. The aftermath was a lopsided school calender with the session commencing January, instead of September the previous year.

Strike Two!! This lasted about 5 weeks and in comparison with the previous strike, this strike was highly welcome. I think this one came at the end of my sophomore year. The session was a rapid-fire, high-tension one that was chronically rushed for we students. We wrote our exams and soon as the last student dropped his pen, the strike started. Well, it didn’t exactly happen like that but the ink on our exam papers were not yet dry….okay, okay, at least you get my point. This strike afforded me the time I needed to regain my strength and get refreshed after such a tedious session. I even made a couple of bucks during that period.

Strike Three!!! ASUU and the government were soon at it again. Going at loggerheads like rival wives in a polygamous home. Again, for me, this strike was a highly welcome development. Very timely. Infact, I had been praying for it since my 1st semester. Why not? I had a research project to work on; I had a magazine publication to work on (Check my post, ”FACTOR VI”); I needed to prepare for some elective courses. But in a fast-paced semester, the time always seemed not to be enough. Well, thanks to the strike, I can work more optimally in a lower pressure environment and by the time the strike’s over, I should have gone far.

Just as a bonus, it is necessary to pass this message of solidarity to all final year students in all public universities in Nigeria: You’ve been through, Strike One, Strike Two and Strike Three, no one needs to tell you that You Are Out!!!
GRADUATION IN VIEW……

God Is My Brother.

This is going to be a very short and laconic one. Okay, now that is settled, can we move on to today’s issue?

For reasons I’m not too sure of, many people think that what I right here resemble sermons and consequently that makes me a pastor, or something. I really don’t understand that sentiment. I made it quite clear in my first post on this blog that I would be writing on various issues from my heart and mind’s perspective.

Pardon my sense of continuity but I had to settle that, because today’s issue might look as if I’m preaching. But I’m not. Okay, I was doing something quite random yesterday and a name was impressed on my heart. Ahijah. Now, I’m quite familiar with that name. I scanned through the recesses of my mind and I remembered that in the Bible, this was the prophet that told a man called Jeroboam, that he (Jeroboam) was eventually going to rule over ten out twelve Israel tribes. Then, an impression was made in my mind. The meaning of Ahijah. For those that do not know, in Biblical times, the interpretation of an individual’s name went a long way in determining his character. For example, Simon (Peter) means ‘reed’, a very weak, easily swayed plant. This was evident in his unstable character during Jesus’ Earthly ministry.

The name Ahijah, means ‘God is my Brother’. Isn’t that awesome. I made another mental scan to find out other individuals who made this seemingly ‘boastful’ claim in the Old testament (in the New testament, Jesus called the doers of His Words, His brothers; Paul also called us joint-heirs with Christ). Father Abraham was called the friend of God, the Great David qualified to be a man after God’s heart. But Ahijah. He called God his Brother.

To me, I am fully convinced that the man Ahijah didn’t just bear the name for the fun of it. No. He was an embodiment of the name both in character and in deeds. How many of us would take a new suit and tear it into pieces, just to explain God’s point to somebody. This guy’s relationship with God was so tight. Even when the man Ahijah was so old and blind, he could not be deceived by the very same test that Isaac failed miserably. I really can’t tell you all you have to know about this man Ahijah. Maybe in your free time, you should check 1 Kings 11 & 14.

I didn’t plan for this article to be this long, but I won’t be satisfied if I didn’t say this: I’m not asking you to change your name to Ahijah so that your character would be like his. Afterall, Jabez, who probably had the worst name anybody could dream to have, didn’t change his name before God changed his story. What I’m really concerned about is how we all get our relationship with God to be so tight that we can boldly unequivocally call God our brother too.

God is yearning for people to have a deep, real-life family-like relationship with Him. But apparently, many people are afraid to draw near to God because of what He might tell them to do. Always remember this: God loves you and He has your best interest in mind. Why not draw nearer to Him, so He’d do the same with you?

Selah!

Limitations: Who sets ’em?

I needed the money so urgently. When I eventually got to the ATM gallery in front of the bank, I was discouraged. There was a very long, slow-moving queue in front of JUST two of the many ATM cubicles at the gallery. I was pissed to the marrows. So, after securing a space for myself at the end of one of the two long lines, I walked up to one of the ATM cubicles without a line in front of it to find out why this was so. Immediately I got there, I instantly wished that I had not gone through the trouble of walking up to the front in the first place. Not a few people snickered at me, probably wondering if I had been too blind to notice the fact that the other ATM machines were not working – that was the reason why there were just two long queues. I felt slightly embarassed but I chose to be unperturbed. I went on to the next ATM cubicle and I saw the same unwelcome welcome on this ATM machine too “OUT OF ORDER”. By the time, I sensed that the whole world was looking at me. What could they be thinking? Maybe, ‘Why isn’t this guy playing by the UNWRITTEN rule?’ or ‘Why is he so impatient?’ or maybe, ‘Does he think he’s smarter than us?’ ‘What point is he trying to prove?’ ‘Would he eventually come back to the end of our line?

I was now on the third ATM and I was met with the same, ‘OUT OF BOUNDS’ response. Within me, I instantly got a flash of intuition and I noticed that amongst all those on the long lines, probably a few, if any, managed to get to this particular ATM cubicle before concluding that all other ATM machines would not work. So, I went on to the next ATM cubicle…

I got inside the cubicle and I did not come out a minute later. There was a sudden hush that fell on all who were there. I came out about five minutes later beaming triumphantly. ‘It’s dispensing!’, I said.

So many people are of the opinion that limitations are ubiquitous. They feel that things are just not meant to go right. If they feel that others from time past have not been able to do something, then that thingy is impossible. See, limitations are a thing of the mine. To illustrate this point, follow this study: A line was drawn on the ground and people were given a small ball on one side of the line to throw in a very narrow cup at the other side of the line. Most of the individuals in this study stood behind the line to throw the ball to the narrow cup on the other side and all missed, when they could have easily walked up to the cup and dropped the ball into it. The power of the mind.

If you wholeheartedly believe within you that you lack the ability to get something, you’d probably never get it done.

So, what would you do? Renew your mind set. Think outside the box. Step out of the ‘what is’ and enter into ‘what should be’. Say NO to limitations of every kind and Believe – in God, your abilities and yourself.

Crossword – A Poem

Yet again, as I continually
discover myself to be, always
Aware that I’m lost again
for the exact words to express my thoughts
Now they flutter,
sometimes in my head, sometimes in my heart
Maybe if I’m patient enough, I’d get
to taste and feel the flow
In the surreal, however,
they are quite vivid and real
Fair enough, I must struggle within myself,
searching with the light of hope, thinking,
‘Even if the words are few,
once found, they would amount to much’

Words Onwards

Confusion, fear and all its adherent complications all start from that small seed that we all tend to forget exists – a word. Peace of mind, sense of joy, happiness and fulfilment also spring from the self-same, almost negligible source – a word. The baffling issue, however, is why do we see more of the former around us than the latter, if they both are from the same origin. The reason is not far-fetched: We fail to recognize the tremendous amount of power that is latently existent in a word.

You see, a word is capable of triggering an idea which in turn provides a reference point for our emotions and thoughts which would invariably govern our actions. The power of a word, whether spoken or written, is more or less like a dynamite – use it wisely and you might get some form of natural resources from a rock, or use it wrongly and you might just inflict injuries on yourself and others around you.

Now, if a word is as a see, there’s nothing more qualified to serve as the fertile ground than our minds. The mind is unique in that it processes information only in the form of pictures. This is why you would enjoy reading a novel more than watching the movie adaptation of the same movie. Furthermore, we know that when someone speaks to us, the words we hear are not seen or perceived as letters in our minds but as pictures too.

Pay attention now, I’m heading somewhere: If what we read and what we hear are seen by our minds’ eyes as pictures, then our thoughts and emotions are more or less the products of what we see or hear, and what we say or write is simply an expression of our thoughts and emotions which would invariably govern our actions.

So what am I saying? In order to possess that sense of peace, joy, happiness and fulfilment within and around you, you have to choose to make words work for you. For example, if you keep on reading positively edifying literature, over time, you’d see desirable changes in your thoughts, emotions and actions. Conversely, if you keep on giving your mind non-edifying material to consume, there’s no chance of you not having deteriorations in your thoughts, emotions and actions. The same applies to the spoken words. Definitely, you do not have a choice in determining what you hear but you can choose whatever you listem to. So selectively choose wisely. You could also speak out positivity continuously into your own hearing and with time, you would only be wishing that you had started the practice earlier.

Words are the sources of the ideas that could make you or mar you. Make words work for you as you push onwards in life.

Selah

Eleven days after and my roomie still not helping matters,
Like clockwork that ticks and talks,
He counted every minute, but never did quite reach the hour,
Was bored by my bed, yet the loquacious bore,
Unforgivingly into me he bore,
But by Divine Providence, I was soon to be freed,
Drunken with euphoria, that which only peace can bring,
I drifted, ever slowly, into the treasure island of thoughts

Why are swayed and tossed to and fro,
By all that we let life throw at us,
With ourselves we struggle by ourselves, Hoping
To outdo ourselves in catching up with ourselves,
In a vicious cycle, satisfaction evades all, so search for more,
It’s a frantic race, and we are lost within it,
Then, we find ourselves, worrying,
Fittingly that we have nothing to worry about.

But have we considered ‘SELAH’?
Taking a break….to stop, think and meditate,
Stepping out of the frenzied rat race,
Pausing everything and playing it all in slow motion,
Stopping and searching for the security
Of that hidden treasure – the rivers of peace
Breaking forth from within and sweeping you off your feet,
Ah! Serenity and Tranquility.

Selah

Number Of The Day: Eleven.

I can’t think of any quote on numbers to kickoff this article. So, I’d just say that, ‘Numbers are….well, just numbers!’. I know that there are a thousand and one books and materials on the subject of numerology and symbology. And there have also been a lot of interpretations and deductions that have been deduced from numbers. For example, some say that good things happen in threes, while others claim that bad things happen in threes; some see seven as the number of perfection while others are of the opinion that thirteen is the unlucky number. Every person’s entitled to his opinion and as a matter of fact, I believe that inasmuch as you are currently on MY blogsite reading THIS particular article, you are going to have to adopt MY rules on this platform. So, I say, the number of the day is ELEVEN!!

Good. Now that is settled, let’s deal with what number eleven stands for. Err…..I really don’t know. The thing’s just that, as at today, Eleven is the most important number on this blog right now. I know I’ve been ranting for the past couple of sentences, but please bear with me, it’s just the wave of excitement that is currently sweeping over me as I’m writing this down…..

Well, in case you didn’t know, you are currently reading my ELEVENTH post on this site. I don’t know about you, but for me, this is special. Very special.

You see, the fact that I’ve entered a double digit number of posts shows some form of consistency on my part (‘The Real McCoy’ was my tenth post and though ten is also a number with two digits, I would stick with eleven due to the recurrence of ‘1’). You might be thinking that, ‘Just eleven posts in two months? So?’, but let me help you put everything in perspective:

I happen to be in my final year at the first (and one of the best) University in Nigeria. I’m also working on my research project on a relatively untrodden path in Physiology. In addition to that, I’m the Editor-in-Chief of my Department’s Students’ Press Organization and we are working on getting our maiden magazine publication ready (check my article on ‘FACTOR VI’ for more details). Finally, to crown it all, I publish my posts from a small JAVA phone with the old-fashioned keypads. Yeah, I still use that kind of phone in this 21st century! For those who are so used to the QWERTY phone keypads, or even better, computer keyboards, let me try and remind you of how excruciating, agonizing and frustrating it could be to type long posts just to ensure that I can publish on a blog. It’s very much like trying to peel an orange with one hand!!!

But against the heavy odds that are against me, I’ve been able to come this far, despite the lack of free time to publish posts and maybe, at times, the unimprovised resources too. And that’s why this eleventh post is important and very special to me.

Many thanks to my numerous readers, for your encouraging comments and corrections, for your likes and follows. I really appreciate you all.
And finally, a million thanks to my God and my All, for being my stay and source of inspiration in those times when I was so overwhelmed that I thought I could not go any further.
ESE BABA.

The Real McCoy

Shhh!
I’ve got a little, teenie-weenie secret for you. I’m not flattering you, but I’m telling you the gospel truth.
So, here goes:
You are special and you are unique. You are the only one of your kind. You are the only one with your specific combination of genes. You are the only one with THAT combination of talents, experiences, abilities and personality. There has never been anyone just like you and there would never be anyone just like you. Oh yes, you share some similarities with certain individuals (past, present and future) but you are not quite exactly like them. As it were, you are THE REAL McCOY!!!

For those of you who are quite familiar with my write-ups, I’m sure that by now, you know that I’m a lover of history and I also love retelling stories. So, in this particular article too, I’d be keeping true to style (A leopard can’t wash off the spots on its skin, can it?).

I’m very positive that not many people, even die-hard boxing fans, have the faintest idea of who Norman Selby was. Well, he was an American professional boxer in the early 1900s and he went by the pseudonym KID McCOY. It happened that Kid McCoy had a very colourful and stellar career in the boxing ring; and his life outside the ring. Such was his interesting lifestyle that he became the inspiration for so many legends amongst the Americans. Kid McCoy, however, had a messed up life at the end and he ended up ending his life by suicide (pun intended).

One of the many legends about Kid McCoy went as follows:
It happened that while Kid McCoy was a lion in the rings, he was a man with a slight build. One fateful day, when he wasn’t having any fight, Kid McCoy decided to take a stroll to a nearby bar and get a few drinks. He had hardly settled down at the bar when a heavily drunk man staggered towards Kid McCoy and started disturbing him. But our hero, ever the gentleman, gently warned the inebriate man to take a walk. The drunk man refused to leave in peace but continued to piss Kid McCoy off. People nearby started warning the drunk man that the fellow that was being disturbed was the American Boxing Champion- Kid McCoy. At this, the drunkard laughed and scoffed and continued brewing a brouhaha at the bar. This went on for a long time until our ‘gentlemanly hero’ finally felt that he had been pushed to the wall. Kid McCoy got up quietly, walked up to the drunk man and taught the guy a few lessons in practical boxing (Actually, he gave the drunkard an upper cut to the jaw!). The man who had been drunk only a few seconds ago instantly sobered up and testified, ‘Wow! It’s actually THE REAL MCCOY!!!’.

Now, no one’s telling you to roll up your sleeves, flex your muscles and start punching people left, right and centre, just to prove a point. No, but it’s high time you started comporting yourself with the knowledge of who you are. I keep on repeating this, ‘The fact that you now in THAT uncomfortable position you currently find yourself does not mean that that’s all there is to write about you’. No, that’s not the entire picture. Your best is within you and it is yet to come forth. You are original, you are unique, you are one of your kind. Later on, you’d look back at all those low points of your life that eventually shaped and refined your person and just start to shed tears. Yes, tears of joy!!!

In conclusion, I could easily mumble something about a decoy and the real mcCoy, but instead, I’d leave you this quote by Hermann Hesse, ‘Every man is more than just himself; he also represents the unique, the very special and always significant and remarkable point at which the world’s phenomena intersect, only once in this way and never again’

As the clocks CHIME away (Part 2)

Continued from Part 1

Eventually, as the weeks wore on, the man became weaker and weaker and it became apparent that he was more or less like a human marrionette in the hands of those whom he surrounded himself with. The final straw that broke the camel’s back led to pericarditis for the then President. He went to Saudi Arabia for treatments and never came back alive.

I decided to check Governor Sullivan Chime’s story online (with my Java phone, of course) and I was shocked to see so many similarities between his history and that of Yar’adua. In the first place, even before Chime stepped into the Governor’s office, it was an OPEN SECRET that Mr Chime was an individual with poor health. In addition to that, rumours were rampant as to how he indulged himself in nefarious activities, such as heavy smoking and drinkin, as well as sleeping with different girls from the state’s universities. It was even reported that his doctors counselled him and advised him to reduce/totally stop his frivolous activities. He heard them but didn’t listen. Eventually, all these culminated into him falling very ill. He was taken to India for treatments (hopefully, JUST medical treatments) and no one has seen him since then. In the meantime, everything in Enugu State seems to be in place; the deputy Governor is acting as the Governor, Clara Chime is performing the duties of a first lady and no one is asking any questions. The clocks chime away, yet Governor Chime is no where to be found.

I’m not a political columnist but the little I know about politics in Nigeria never ceases to amaze me. It even obfuscates me most times. I always wonder why we aim to pattern our system of government after the Americans. We claim to be practising the American Presidential system and that’s where the similarities end. Have we taken time to see the tolerance level of the American system to corruption? Or even if the ‘normal’ is unattainable and otherworldly to us, how about the build-up to the elections? In America, people contesting for public offices take jogs in the full view of the media and the masses. They do this to show that they are physically and mentally fit to handle whatever the demands of the public offices throw at them. But back here in Naija, the only requirements are having a big round pot-belly, a solid capital base (no one cares whether the money is legitimate or not) and making sure that the godfathers have been appeased. Nobody cares about the man himself, nobody cares about his health status, nobody cares about the nitty-gritties of his personal life.

In my humble opinion, as long as this negligence of significant (usually not prominent!) issues in the health and lifestyles of runners for public offices in Nigeria continues, we would keep on having the deja vu feelings related to the Yar’adua’s (then) and Chime’s (now) administrations.

I wish the Governor of Enugu State a speedy recovery and a speedy return to the helm of affairs at his state. However, the clocks are chiming away on the hour, every hour, it’s high time we learn from the past to create a better future for ourselves and posterity.

CONCLUDED

As the clocks CHIME away (Part 1).

Due to the fact that I picture myself as much more than a Nigerian (I like seeing myself as a global citizen that should be able to fit into any country, culture or continent), I try to be sensitive to the similarities that exist between my native culture and foreign cultures far and wide. I haven’t mastered all the similarities yet and there’s a lot of room for improvement but I’m no novice either.

Right from my elementary school days, I’ve always known that culture is the total way of life of a group of people. Furthermore, I know that the major distinction that stands to differentiate cultures from each other is the element of language. Now, when there are similarities between the sounds, spellings and even words in 2 different languages, you cannot help but start to wonder how this came to be.
For example, I was reading the Bible the other day and I saw the words, ‘TOLA’ and ‘DODO’, which in Yoruba language means, ‘with or for riches, wealth or affluence’ for ‘TOLA’, while ‘DODO’ is a local delicacy made by frying plantain.
Another example is the case of the hourly sounds that are made by the old standing grandfather clocks. These clocks CHIME every hour. The word ‘CHIME’ is also an Igbo name, although in this case, it is pronounced ‘CHEE-MAY’

How about ‘CHIME’?
The clocks chime on the hour, every hour but yet there’s no sign of the erstwhile Governor of Enugu State, Nigeria- Mr Sullivan Chime. This is a sad, unnecessary and totally unfair scenario that is played again in the minds of every Nigerian. I really cannot lay my fingers on the circumstances that led to this highly discomfitting state where the populace of Enugu State are being kept in the dark, regarding the whereabouts of the Numero Uno of their state.

Not many Nigerians would forget in a hurry the late ex-President of Nigeria, Umaru Musa Yar’adua, who despite being a man with a fragile health condition, underwent the rigours of a vigourous political campaign from ‘Dan to Beersheba’ of the nation. I can vividly remember when midway through the nationwide campaign, there were rumours of Yar’adua’s death, long before a single vote was cast. Alas, we had forgotten about the element of truth in every rumour. Perhaps, the rumour mongers had seen the poor weak man collapsing out of sheer exhaustion from the campaign, but such news was carefully and efficiently kept away from the media.
Even at that time, the then president of Nigeria, Chief Olusegun Obasanjo, dismissed rumours of Yar’adua’s death in the most comical manners by calling him (Yar’adua) on phone during one of the open-air campaigns that Yar’adua had missed and using speakers to project to the congregated masses what was being said. Laughs were shared and the issue about Yar’adua’s health were swept under the carpet.

Yar’adua eventually won the election, but day by day, he showed signs of being crushed by the daily pressures of leading Africa’s most populous nation. Yet, the psychophants and ‘yes-men’ that he surrounded himself with (NO DISRESPECT TO THE DEAD) could not give him quality advice since he had to be the president for them to survive. This was getting to be more than a symbiotic relationship, or even commensalism. This was parasitism……………..

TO BE CONTINUED