Where are the arable lands?

This is one question I have been asking since I returned to Nigeria. Are we all building houses with big compounds forgetting we need to be alive to live in big houses? Have we wrongly placed our primary needs as ‘shelter, food and clothing’ instead of ‘food, shelter and clothing’? It seems so to me.

One particular thing that struck me during my residence in Europe is that their cultivation season is too short when compared to ours but they end up with more than enough food for the next year and beyond. They observed their environment and used a tailored approach to eradicate hunger. What are we doing in Nigeria? Just like our blessing (crude) has turned into a curse (driving our politicians and citizens to greed), our land mass has also turned to an object of covetousness! Every single person wants a big house where he can park 5 cars to impress/oppress his neighbors. I ask, at whose detriment?

When are we going to realize that the horizontal space we are wasting by building too many unnecessary houses should be used for agriculture? What are we using the vertical space for? Are we still naïve at 56 to realize that hunger is a major driver of poverty? How can each state not be able to produce enough food for its occupants? Where will the supply come from? Obviously, from imports! How does that help our economy? Why are we wasting fertile lands and favourable cultivation weather? Why are we trapped in this vicious cycle of waste of resources? Why are we still on the world’s list of hungry nations?

Many countries envy Nigeria’s blessings. Some visionary leaders given the pool of resources in Nigeria as capital will turn this nation into an enviable haven and give the United States a run for their power. But we look on while the future of our children is hopelessly destroyed. In fact we join the train and help our leaders execute their selfish agenda. When are we going to wake up and smell the coffee? How can we pretend to be in a perpetual state of ignorance? We need to awaken the lost sense of community building and discard our individual, selfish ambitions of getting richer and richer.  Living in smaller houses has never killed people but hunger has been killing and continues to kill many Nigerians. We need to keep arable lands for us and our children to survive.

It is no surprise that the average Nigerian graduate wants a job with Shell petroleum, Agip, Chevron or Mobil. ‘Oil industry; that is my portion!’ Whose portion is it to make sure you eat and stay healthy while you drive your car to the office? Your dead great-grandfathers or your sickly uncles in the village? Agriculture is an industry Nigeria can develop and exploit! We had exported cash crops in the past, we can do it again but that is after we have provided enough food crops for our survival.  Building houses for shelter is commendable but providing enough food as a priority is admirable!

If five rich people decide to open poultries in a community, meat and eggs will invariably become cheaper in that community. If community lands or even individual lands are preserved and cultivated in acres, the same community will have more food to eat and to sell to others. If this is duplicated in every community in every state, there will be a multiplier effect and abundance of food. It is not so complicated. But, will we quell our insatiable, selfish drives and look into the future even for a second?

Let’s reorient ourselves and redefine dignity. It is not in white collar jobs and big houses and cars. That is just a façade under which lies the majority of the masses; hungry, unhealthy and angry. Let’s teach our children that choosing a career in agriculture is as noble as choosing Medicine or Accountancy! What can be nobler than studying to provide man’s first and most basic need? Let’s scale down on our mindless property acquisition and begin to acquire a greater future for our children by joining hands to accomplish greater feats for our communities. Let’s save our horizontal (arable)space by maximizing the vertical space in building more high-rise buildings for residences while encouraging mass food production. Let us all ensure that there will be a Nigeria in the future. Let’s shame our corrupt leaders and take the initiative!

Making Impact

How often do we look around to see how many people around us could do with a little help? How often do we notice another’s pain? We are often masters of pretense, shielding ourselves from rejection, disappointment, ridicule or betrayal; so we isolate ourselves in our big homes, bury our faces in screens and put up invisible walls around us with unfriendly countenance. All the while missing the opportunity of starting a conversation with someone who can help either with advice or material resources; or being infected with a smile that can completely change how we feel. Some people are miserable today because they lack a downward relationship, someone they can help so they can receive the joy that comes with lifting another’s burden. It could hold the key to a long time depression or ulcer or just the flicker of hope that comes with the mere realization that helping someone in need means God/posterity (whichever you believe in) will smile back at you, to ease your own burden, someday when you’ll need it the most. Seeds beget harvests.

Ever seen those videos on the internet where homeless men who were beneficiaries of other peoples’ kindness are more eager to share whatever little they have with others? When you have gone through a rocky road in life, you learn all by yourself what matters the most. You understand and appreciate what life really means, and if given a second chance, you’ll give away more than you would ordinarily give because you know that your impact in other people’s lives actually make you richer. Yes, it makes you more prosperous; I’m not talking money-rich!

Most people (except terrorists) will agree that what the world needs is love. Yes, Christians say it as well as non-Christians.

Love is expressed by actions. Actions have impacts. Love-driven Impacts stay with people and change them; causing ripple effects on other people.  It’s an old story but we forget it too quickly/very often. Many times our excuses are laughable. We never have enough, it’s never the right time, and we are always busy. Excuses are made and they abound. But your impact might cost as little as your meal to the roadside beggar; or your transport fare to the pregnant woman who has to walk a long distance to get to the hospital. It could mean delaying your child’s school fees (enduring what you think is shame) until your next salary so your neighbor’s child can eat or go to hospital. The truth is that you make the greatest impact when it costs you something. But in the grand scheme of things, if you were to see the big picture, you would gladly give that little seed ten times over. For that child’s school fees you delayed might be rewarded with his University scholarship; that transport fare you gave to save the pregnant woman might bring your own car and put an end to your struggles with public transport; that compulsory fasting you did when the beggar got your breakfast might initiate the healing process to a long standing health issue. But even if these don’t happen, you would have triggered something in someone’s life that will make him want to show kindness to two more people who are more likely to spread the fire of love around the world. The peace you seek in your nation and for your children might be spearheaded by someone whose life was saved by a kind stranger who another kind stranger (you) helped twenty years ago and who remembered!

Let us consciously and more often remember to impact lives positively. Let us live as though every good deed will be repaid directly without really expecting it to be repaid. Because at the end they are repaid; but just not how we expect it. The payments come in grander forms!

Our world needs large doses of love. Overdose if I may say. Because we have allowed evil to prosper for so long and there is much we need to do for love to gain the upper hand again. Our little acts of kindness are all we need to impact lives and fill hearts with love and life!

'A Day's Dream' - My First Attempt at Creative Writing

Ifebuche turned again to stare at her very rounded backside in the mirror; who would’ve thought this would one day be hers. Whatever the reason was – good food or one of the perks of having regular sex- she was grateful for the outcome. She chuckled out, thinking how nice it would be for Ekeoma to see her now. He had thoughtlessly called her ike efere -plate buttocks- in front of his friends, some among whom she had hoped to get a chase. She had been a late bloomer and all her friends got all their body assets way before she did. She often didn’t like to be seen in their company by boys but that was almost always inevitable; they never seemed to forget her whenever there was an outing and she never seemed to muster enough courage to turn their offer down.

Never one to leave her confidence dented, she had given him a sharp retort that day, on how he’d never get kissed because of his bad breath. She had gone over-board and completely ruined her chances by adding that his friends were all too cowardly to tell him. It would be a pleasure to flaunt her well-rounded-no-more-plate buttocks just to see his reaction. She would then ask him if he eventually found a dentist who could endure his foul breath, long enough to give him medical attention.

Her mother had always tried to disperse her worries. First, it was about her not having breasts and buttocks as big as her friends. After that, it was about all of them getting married before her. She convinced her, that her pretty face would make any man forget how slim she was. How pretty was she that at 27 her mother was still consoling her while her friends were all married at either 22 or 23? Now at 30, she radiated happiness and looked more like her friends at 25. She hoped her daughter will be a late-bloomer like her; marriage was a lot more than she thought.

There was a knock and she hurried to see who it was. She had forgotten to tidy herself to meet Ndubisi at the door.

‘Welcome back dear, I didn’t hear you park the car’

‘What happened to my kiss?’

She kissed him then.

‘And speaking of the car, it’s still outside the gate; I need to pick up a friend to have dinner with us, after I’ve had my bath’

‘Are you joking?’

‘It’s just a social call. He’s an old friend who has been in London for the past 4 years and when you said we would have your special yam and stewed vegetables, I figured he could catch up from where he left with Nigerian food’.

‘This is why women should not marry generous men’

Ifebuche used the time she had to set the table and freshen up. No matter how social this call may sound, she’s certainly not appearing before a London-returnee, without every tiny detail in place. She must be the perfect hostess and the sexy wife.

She chose a knee-length, red and black flowered lycra gown that hugged her just enough to announce her good shape without crossing the indecent line. She packed her weave-on into a ponytail; leaving no doubts to the elegance of her neck and completed the look with a tiny set of gold ear rings. Her make-up was subtle; light pink lipstick with gloss to accentuate her natural full lips, matching blush and colourless mascara to increase her eye-brow volume. Ndubisi always said she looked better with less, ‘don’t hide your beauty under those colours’, was his favourite line. She had barely finished when they drove in. She picked up her one year old daughter and headed for the door.

Ndubisi introduced them to each other.

Ifebuche froze as she recognized the face. Edward had to stretch his hands before she remembered the right thing was to give him a hand-shake.

‘You are welcome, please come in’. She managed to move away from the entrance.

‘Eziaku say hello to Uncle Edward’. The little girl stretched out her arms towards her father.

Ndubisi took her and Ifebuche made a beeline for the kitchen.

He turned to his visitor, ‘Please make yourself comfortable’. He switched on the television and flipped to the sports channel.

Ifebuche served them wine and dashed back into the kitchen. After about twenty minutes, she called them to the table. She was eager to begin her inquisition soon after it.

‘Sweetheart, I assume you met Edward in London three years ago?’

‘Indeed’

‘Edward, are you from the east?’

‘I’m not going to play your games, Ifebuche’.

 Ndubisi’s already aroused suspicion, that they had known each other before then grew another inch.

‘I’m from Enugu state, Umuagu to be precise’.

Ndubisi snapped his head to look at her. ‘He is from your town!’

‘Yes dear, in fact we grew up together.

‘I knew it.’ He still managed to sound normal, hoping he had not made an awkward mistake of bringing an ex-boyfriend of his wife into their home.

‘We weren’t the best of pals, my friend. I had an ugly case of bad breath while growing up and your charming wife made a wedge out of it and drove it between me and my friends’.

‘If my memory serves me right, that was after you made sure the same people noticed my ike efere’.

Ndubisi relaxed. ‘You sound like children’

‘Oh we were then. It was terrible for me because I battled with inferiority complex until I could get rid of it. In retrospect, Ifebuche was painfully right; I was being endured'.

 Her buttocks could not be discussed because she was somebody’s wife, but it was obvious that they had both managed to get rid of their flaws. Ifebuche could not help laughing while she did the dishes. She was happy she had chosen that Lycra gown; after all it’s not every time that dreams come true in a day.

Being A Partner

Recently a friend shared a Facebook picture where a black (most probably Nigerian) father  was learning to bathe his newborn while his wife supervised. It was stated that they reside in Utah in the United States of America. The original owner of the picture complained about what ‘our women has turned us into’, referring to the fact that bathing a child is a chore strictly for the woman and inferred the man was being emasculated by doing it. I could not help wondering in which century he was trapped.

The continuous changes in the structure of the society that has necessitated the isolation of the  nuclear family cannot be ignored.  People in search of greener pastures have had to move so far away from their extended families that most times when you meet someone remotely close to you by reason of coming from the same town or village, you automatically become brothers just to feel that closeness to home again or even for the mere reason of having someone to exchange words in the dialect that is so unique to you in a place where people are easily lost in the crowd.  Some of us living in the diaspora know what it means to meet someone who speaks your language, the connection is automatic. But this is not the point here.

The consequential isolation creates an environment where the man is forced out of his traditionally recognised roles to help his partner meet up with tasks. In fact, it forces the couple to live that word ‘partner’ in the full sense of it. The woman steps up her game in contributing both financially and otherwise and the man also sees other roles he must play instead of crossing his feet to watch television programmes while the woman sweats it out, so he can live up to his head-of-the-family title.

Our African culture frowns at this but permit me to say that when we left our first homes and migrated to embrace new cultures and societies, clinging on to such things in order to answer just a name, hurts much more than it helps. The western society has already imbibed this as a tradition and I would say it is because the nuclear family isolation has been with them for a longer time.

A man helping to bathe his baby does not in any way rid him of his very cherished title, rather it opens a wider gate for him to show his strength and love in supporting his wife. Unfortunately in Africa we only feel he earns that title because he is the natural provider  and has the right to put the full stop to every decision.  The unwritten rule that was handed over to us insists that a woman and her new born be nurtured for at least three months before she is left to carry on by herself. For this,  a woman counts it as good fortune if her  mother or mother-in-law or even an aunt is close by when she delivers. We are the only ones who can  tell what we go through after child birth and a man who is alone with his wife in a foreign land without this form of help from their extended families, has a lot to learn in a very short while. He learns there is a reason those three months were traditionally instituted in the first place.

The bible reckons with us as ‘the weaker vessel’ and even though many  interpretations has been  given to that phrase,  it refers to our physical strength as compared to men’s own. ( All this modern bull shit about what a man can do, a woman can do better does not sit well with me, because I know men who split firewood to care for their families, I will dare a woman to go for it. I won’t try it myself). Having said that, I will rather look at the original owner of that picture (I do not want to use it here because I don’t know if the couple themselves even know what the man, who must be their friend to have obtained a picture of them in their house, has been up to with their picture) as ignorant. Women (living in isolated nuclear families) who are naturally the weaker vessels give birth and after a few days get up on their feet to continue the very tasking life of caring for a newborn, with episiotomy or caesarean stitches, sleeplessness and a strange form of weakness that descends on the person when she tries to do any little chore. (I stubbornly went out to buy fruits two days after I was discharged from the hospital. Two minutes walk away from my house and I could have fainted on the road). So, if that man feels that a man learning to help his wife is something to be ashamed of,  I can only hope that by a certain twist of fate he becomes pregnant, goes through labour so we can see if he agrees to get up from the bed after two weeks.

Pregnancy and labour and their effects on the woman’s body need be explained comprehensively to the still-ignorant men folk who are only interested in toting their titles around.

To the men who are rising up to the occasion daily, being  partners to their wives and supporting them with their greater physical strength, I pray God bless you real good!!! 

How Much For A Destiny?

I wished I was God, wished for that almighty power to make things right in an instant and to severely punish anyone who deserves it. Yes, one of the encounters you make and think, ‘there has to be someone to punish the evil men consciously mete out on others’. It’s not boko haram but a young 20 year old,  8-months pregnant girl who is so alone except for her ‘madam’ who brought her to Europe and to whom she owes 30 thousand euro after she had done some trekking from Africa, went through Spain (where the father of her soon- to- be- born baby is) and is currently in Italy to start paying her dues.

 I looked back and all I remember at 20 was being in the University, dreaming of a big bright future and being a dependent who had her parents and relatives to fall back on. But here is this young girl who is Nigerian, with a Ugandan name and documents, no Ugandan international  passport (I wonder how she is going to get that), with  no idea how complicated her life has become because of the forgeries, pregnant and sceptical about going to the hospital for a caesarean  procedure (because her baby refused to turn with his head down), speaks absolutely no Italian and has someone who has tied her down with a huge debt and fear for the oaths she took on her life back home!!!

I didn’t know where to start but one thing I kept telling her was to concentrate on staying alive by agreeing to the procedure,  convincing her the CS was not a bad thing and that here doctors are very qualified to take care of her. I made her call the hospital with my phone (she did not have call credit and was not allowed to, and had refused to take the calls from the hospital before we met), I spoke with them and interpreted for her, took down details of the information they had to pass on to her and made her promise she will go the day they asked her to come for delivery. I asked her to call me if she needed someone to talk to (she pleaded with me not to call her, obviously her madam will not be happy to hear she is making friends who might help her out of her bondage) and if madam won’t be at the hospital the day she will give birth. I asked her to let me call a free toll number I’ve seen on a notice at the city council for help in this kind of situation but she was so afraid her madam will be taken to the police and things will get out of hand at home for her family and for her personally because of the oath. I’m still contemplating on doing that because really it looks like interfering with someone’s life and at the same time like saving someone who doesn’t know her way back to a normal life. I preached, advised, warned her of the dangers of going into prostitution but she kept asking me what kind of work she can do without speaking the language and without having legal documents? I couldn’t answer that but kept begging her to let me call that line for help. I tried getting her to change her mind with stories I had seen on the news about prostitutes who were murdered but I could see I wasn’t getting anywhere.

I got home and couldn’t sleep well! How do you  make a debt of 30 thousand euro before getting to your destination if not that you think money grows on trees at your destination? Where were her parents?  In fact I was later made to understand that most times parents are privy to these kind of arrangements and consent to it, in fact sometimes they force their children to do it because they think Europe has all the answers. Thirty thousand euros for crying out loud! I personally processed my documents for joining my husband here in Italy and even while I complained  about how rigorous and expensive the process was, 3000 euro will be just about it (if not a bit exaggerated) if I take into account the transport fare I spent moving from the Enugu to Lagos and to Abuja on several occasions and the flight fare to Italy.

How do women, women who are responsible for bringing life, giving love and nurturing it turn out to be cruel slave merchants? These are people who have stayed here, who know how things work and still they go home to deceive the ignorant folks in order to make themselves richer at the detriment of another’s destiny. How much for a  conscience and how much does a destiny cost? The Bible tells it as it is, the love of money is the root of all evil...note- the love of money, not money in and of itself!

Presently, I am looking for a way to go beyond being someone that girl can talk to when she feels the need, I am hoping she will let me help her as much as I can without complicating her life further. I am seeking information, advise, whatsoever can help her. If you are reading this and you know what I can do, please leave a comment. It all started with her asking me if she has to take a number for her turn, and me asking what it is she came to the immigration office to do. I believe in going further than exchanging greetings if you feel it in your heart, to know if you have been sent to help the person sitting close to you. We all have this ‘I need to mind my business attitude’, but I know how much I have been helped by people who didn’t think that way. I want to return this favour, I want to keep contributing to changing this our world, one person at a time. You too can!

To Turn A Blind Eye Or Not?

Yesterday I was at the open market that holds every Wednesday in the area where I live, to buy fruits for the week. As I stood at the stall from where I wanted to buy, I noticed this pregnant woman walking nonchalantly with a boy about 7 years behind her. You would not know they were together but I noticed because I saw her  glance back at him making sure he was following. I wanted to attribute it to fatigue from the pregnancy until I saw the boy reaching for a strawberry on the table of the next stall. His mum was standing at a distance pretending to be on the queue. Instinctively, I told him sternly not to. He looked at me and ran to the mother. My ‘aproco’ self  was about to tell her to mind him so he won’t pick things from people’s tables and get called names, but as I turned, I saw the boy telling her he wanted strawberries. She quietly moved away from the queue and started heading back to where she came from, leaving the boy behind her as before. He drew closer again to touch the strawberry and this time I raised my voice while warning him not to touch it. He ran to his mother and as I followed him with my eyes, I saw her looking at me with eyes that could have killed if it were possible. The boy had told her and she was mad with me!!

 I wished  I could call the authorities to take that boy from her. She is breeding a thief and tomorrow the society will pay dearly for it. We have enough menace already, we do not have to look on while some people diligently add to it. Plus that child can become whatever he wants tomorrow, why should that be taken away from him because he has parents who think they can take what does not belong to them, teach same to their children and use poverty to justify it? I was kind of furious because I couldn’t do anything or rather because I didn’t know what to do. (A call to my Italian friends to drop a comment on what I can do, or which authority to refer to in cases like this).

I was just as mad last week when I met a Nigerian young man I know, begging on the street near the centre of the city where I live. I wasn’t mad because he was begging, in fact I would have preferred if the woman begged the fruit vendor for just one strawberry for the kid. But I was mad because  I know him and his wife with their 3 year old daughter. We made acquaintance as Nigerians living close to each other but we rarely visit. So I know he works and also gets support from the city council because his wife came into Italy from Libya while pregnant and was taken into their care. The council have continued to care for that child and they get a generous amount every month to that effect. They live in a house paid for by the council (or I would say subsidized) and have things going for them better than those who work off their asses paying the exorbitant rent we all are screaming about. Imagine my surprise when I saw him standing with one of the guys who usually stand there to beg, with his face almost completely hidden from view  by the big hood of his jacket. I had seen him while approaching but I intentionally greeted the other one who I normally exchange greetings with and passed by. I know he saw me but I saved him the shame because I couldn’t help thinking that greed has eaten him up and there was no need adding shame to his eaters.

He didn’t think for once what that could do to his daughter’s self esteem. Children know much more than we give them credit for and a very expressive child in his daughter’s class might see him and recognise him as her father. What he or she says to his daughter will only be limited by the type of upbringing or discussion by his or her parents. He didn’t stop to think it was better to leave the other guy (who I honestly assume is not working, because I don’t know him from Adam) so he can get more help, he doesn’t think the society has done enough for him. He just has to keep collecting and collecting. Some people like abusing other people’s kindness, and just because he thinks Italians will always look at the poor black beggar and have mercy, he has enough reason to abuse the privileges he has. .  He knew he was doing wrong and tried so very well to hide his face.

 Raising a kid with that mentality is just wrong and when it will really come back to bite him in the ass, he won’t see it coming.  I also felt like he should be reported to the authorities but I don’t know if I have the right to do so. People like to say that parenting style is every parent’s choice and people should not interfere. But when we see a child being wronged with an upbringing that will only hurt us or our children in the future, should we turn a blind eye? Even if we cannot intervene directly, should we not call in the appropriate authorities to right these wrongs. Sincerely, carrying a pregnancy and giving birth does not qualify every woman who has done it to be called mother and donating the sperm that makes the child does not make every man who does it a father. There is much more behind those words, and every human being who brings out children into this already difficult world should not make things more difficult for both the children and the people already in it. 

When The Judge Is The Accused: The Nigerian Government Compensation Method

Suicide bombers in the Boko Haram sect (the Islamic terrorist group opposing western education in Nigeria) believe dying for a good cause will earn them paradise. In addition to this, they are promised  better welfare for their family members.

Sadly, the Nigerian government has adopted this method in providing 'curative' consolation to families of deceased citizens whom they could have well prevented their deaths.

Youth Corpers who were serving their nation in Bauchi state and who were supposed to be under the custody of the federal government  were killed during the April 2011 polls while they were being used as ad-hoc officials. The President declared a 5 million naira compensation to be paid to each of their families and the immediate employment of their siblings into the Federal Civil service.

Again, on March 15, the National Immigration service conducted a job test in some of the nation's state capitals and people were stampeded to death and many more injured in various centres. The President again was quick to show his sympathy and has declared compensation in the form of jobs for their families as reported by the Sun on-line newspaper.

Reflecting on it, I couldn't help thinking, 'the present Nigerian government has gone Boko-Haramic on us!!! Die for a good cause and your relations will be compensated. It is a Nigerian leadership thing to prefer cure to prevention, but this is not even a cure. It is a compensation that does not come close to doing what it is meant for. It is an ugly habit that our president seems comfortable with. Some say 'better this than nothing at all', but I say 'we do not want compensations because we are not all suicide bombers. All the youth corpers and job seekers who died were there for themselves. They did not sign up for suicide missions with 'silly' compensations. If we all have to die for our relations to get jobs, soon the ones with the jobs will have to die for the ones still without jobs or in school. At least if the jobs are not guaranteed, let us stay alive while we hope for a better future. Let's get out of the tests alive!!!!

The federal government of Nigeria should protect the lives of its citizens else there will soon be no one left to govern. There is no king without a kingdom. It is the duty of a government to protect its citizens and provide jobs. Boko-Haram is shedding enough blood already....Mr President, please do not become their convert!