May 29

As we prepare to mark the ninth year of our great democratic experiment/learning process/PDP "vote capturing"/INEC's robust independence, we must look back on the intractable problems that once bedevilled our great nation and smile at their resolution.

For instance, in the past we had Supreme Military Councils made up of about 30 crooks (whose word was law) doling out money amongst their friends and favourites to the detriment of the national good. This problem was resolved by the creation of a Federal Executive Council and National Assembly made up of about 500 crooks (whose word is law) doling out money to their friends and favourites to the detriment of the national good.

We used to refine crude oil in Nigeria, and the Government always groaned about the subsidy. We now import refined products and the Government groans about the subsidy.

We once used to live in fear of soldiers breaking down our doors to arrest our loved ones who dared to speak out against their paymasters, now we live in fear of thugs breaking down our doors to kill our loved ones who dare to speak against their paymasters.

We once considered constant electricity to be the luxury of the rich, now we consider constant electricity to be the luxury of the mega-rich.

We used to have several tiny banks, each doing their best to rip off the unfortunate Nigerian customer. We now have few large banks, each doing their best to rip off the unfortunate Nigerian customer.

We once thought it was an act of courage to drive around Lagos without a well-armed escort, and now we think it is an act of courage to drive around Lagos.


Fela, the great sage and seer, once described democracy as a demonstration of craze. Witnessing a catalogue of simply disgraceful behaviour by our "honorables" on Channels TV News last night, I couldn't help but agree with him, as I am so often compelled to. Witnessing fathers and grandfathers displaying all their agbari skills without restraint on national television made me alternate between tears of laughter and, well, more tears of laughter. One video from Ondo State, showing a legislator attempting to seize the House Mace was particularly hilarious. Here was the fellow, struggling desperately to wrest the Mace from some other folks, when from behind him, someone steps up and delivers a punch that Muhammad Ali would have been proud of. When he is helped to his feet, after assorted refs have counted to a hundred and gone for lunch, all he does is rub his head and look bewildered. You wouldn't want to be that guy's kid in school the next morning, trust me. Or the "Civilian Coup" in Delta State wherein the Speaker of the House of Assembly actually had his seat pulled from underneath him, and then got dragged out of the Chamber, so a new Speaker could be installed.

On May 29 our rulers will get out their collective soap boxes, and proceed to do their very best to dislocate their own shoulders via vigorous self back-patting. We will hear about how the military destroyed everything for so many years, and how there has been so much to do. We will hear about the "great strides" that have been taken in bringing democracy dividends to the ordinary Nigerian (by which they simply mean that instead of the General from your home town building a mansion in your back yard, you now have the Senator, the Honorable, the SHA Member, Local Government Councillor, and the local thug building mansions in your backyard). We will be told that we must exercise patience while our children attend substandard schools while the funds to give them a decent education are spent on Harvard tuitions for the children of government and party functionaries.

We will be told that decent drinking water, motorable roads, stable electricity, and basic security are being worked on and will be delivered soon, while our rulers drink Ragolis and Eva, ride in jeeps, utilise the largest generators and use their MOPOL to chase us off what thin strip of good road we were clinging to.

We will be told to exercise patience while the "rule of law" enables perpertrators of the most nefarious crimes against the people in recent memory dance and dine in absolute freedom.

Oh yes, patience will be a major theme of May 29 addresses. We will be told to exercise patience until it becomes a virtue. Someone once told me that if you chase a goat to a wall, it will turn around and charge you, but if you chase a Nigerian to a wall, he will dig through or under the wall so he can keep running. I know we have had men of courage in this country, but I am loath to begin naming them here. Suffice to say they have been occasional comets during our perpetual Antarctic winter. Their light shines too short to do more than offer a glimpse of the direction in which we should head, then is snuffed out by collective apathy.

Yes, Nigerians generally, no longer give a shit. We don't care if our rulers steal our money. We no longer have (ife we ever did) a collective desire to hold our rulers accountable for their misdeeds, and that is perhaps the enduring legacy of military rule. The military did us irreperable harm, but it wasn't in the area of infrastructure or national development. It was in our psyche. After such a mind fuck, we became ready to accept them when they tossed the guns and whips and came back with constitutions. Now we constantly hear "no to military rule" and "the worst civilian government is better than the best military dictatorship." What a crock. Mind you, I am not advocating a coup, but at least during military rule we didn't have a collection of quite so many pigs gathered at the trough. We had a few large pigs and a collection of piglets. Now we have several large pigs and an even larger (and still growing) collection of piglets.

Our political parties are, in general, a gathering of persons whose only common ideology is "there is no such thing as Government money." There is no better demonstration of this than the PDP. The only thing that gathering has in common is avarice.

Well, I'm venting, perhaps even ranting a bit, but if you can't rant on your blog, then where can you? Besides, maybe 10 or 20 people will read this post, or a few more who stumble across it, so let me offer a personal solution to Nigeria's power woes:

1. A blanket ban on the purchase, or use of generators by all top government functionaries, and permanent load shedding of their homes.

I can see it now: the "honorable" minister for energy (power) forced to do battle with mosquitoes with his own hands while cursing and waiting for PHCN to restore power to his area. If PHCN doesn't start working properly in a week. I know it won't happen, of course, but it's a lovely thought on which to celebrate demonstration of craze day in Nigeria.

As for me, I intend to celebrate by tackling some laundry which has refused to abandon the politics of opposition, and then I shall loot generously from the public till of my kitchen, before retiring to my plush villa in the middle of my flat for a well-deserved foreign vacation.

Physical Fitness

Sometime ago, while I was still doing my NYSC, it was decided by top management at my place of primary assignment that the lifts would no longer carry persons to or from the first floor. This policy was instituted with a view to ensuring that staff got some regular exercise at the office, since many people were way too tired to use the various gyms the company had partnered with. It was also believed that this new fitness regime would improve staff performance, and so on and so forth.

Needless to say that I, at the time was more than willing to use the stairs for a few reasons:
1. I was young and strong;
2. The lifts could often be a hinderance rather than a help; and
3. My office was on the first floor.

Of course, not everyone could comfortably play "spring chicken", and you'd find a few people at their desks and blowing like whales, or queues at the water fountain, as staff desperately tried to rehydrate themselves. And, naturally, the big ogas with first floor offices still used the lifts.

Well, if top management knew then what we found out today, there would have been a very simple incentive to physical fitness - the presence of the EFCC.

Iyabo Obasanjo-Bello has been engaged in a war of words with the EFCC since it was revealed that she collected some cash out of the 300 million Naira health ministry palaver, for which the heads of the minster and minister-of-state duly rolled. When the trial of the accused persons began, Iyabo was named as an accused person, but failed to show up in court. When the EFCC announced that she was on the run, she hit back, calling them liars. Recently, she bragged that she was ready for them.

Reports emerged today indicating that while EFCC officers were waiting to arrest her, Senator Iyabo Obasanjo-Bello, a woman who can hardly be described as a Marion Jones in her prime, evaded capture by going over the back fence of her Jabi residence. This event leaves a lot open to the imagination. You see, Iyabo is not noted for a physical nature, and seeing as she never embarked on a mountain climbing exercise like the "Action Governor" Lucky Igbinedion, one must wonder how she developed her technique. It is not yet known which high jump method she may or may not have utilised in making her escape, and it has also not yet been revealed whether a ladder or pole vault was discovered at the scene. All that is known is that the EFCC came in the front door, and Iyabo went over the back fence. One can only imagine the amused/frustrated looks on the faces of the cops at that moment. Frustration because she got away, and amusement because of how she got away.

No doubt, various men and women of high standing (and who may or may not become EFCC targets in future) are taking note of this, which shall soon become known as The Iyabo Method. Baba, on receiving the news of his daughter's narrow escape from the clutches of the monster he created, might have cringed in embarrasment at the idea of his child scaling a fence like a common crook, but then again, knowing Baba, he would probably have smiled with pride at her ingenuity.

Next time, however, she might not be so lucky...

3 Strikes

Ed's Note: The Law has not finally lost his marbles, and is fervently praying neither of the people mentioned in a previous post reads this, or The Law might be in need of a coffin...

I sometimes wonder if Cupid, or whichever mad scientist runs the relationships department operates a sort of reverse 3 Strikes policy. As in, 3 Strikes and you're out for good. You see, I've had 3 great loves in my life, each one stronger than the last. And for anyone completely aware of me history reading this, K doesn't count because she was, well, puppy love.

So, here they are, in chronological order.

A: I first met her at a friend's birthday party in my first year in the University. To say she outshone the other young ladies at the event would be a gross understatement. Next to her, they were candles. I didn't fall in love with her at first sight though. I don't believe in such fruppery. Although if I am honest, it took about 30 seconds. Nano seconds, that is. Well, I wasn't a very confident fellow back in those days, so I pulled out all the reasons she'd never go out with me, namely there were richer, finer guys, etc, and beat them into my brains so much I accepted them as dogma. What a fool I was. I contented myself with seeing her only occasionally, even though each time I laid eyes on her, my heart would literally stop. I kept telling myself it was good to be friends with her because I could never be more. I was such a coward. Out of fear of rejection, I never did a damn thing. I wish I had a time machine, I'd go back and ram a red hot poker or a 600 volt cattle prod up my own behind. And so, the time passed, and the feelings diminished, and faded from an acute ache to a dull throb. And I congratulated myself for surviving. Some days, I feel I shall go to my grave with her as my one greatest regret.

V: V broke me out of my funk over A. She was about 12 metric tons of fun, with a sense of humor that was totally out of this world. When she came along, I decided to apply the lessons learnt from A, and screwed my courage to the sticking place. I spoke up. Man, oh man. Well, she decided we'd better be friends, and I guess she was looking for a guy with a lot more, ahem, experience. She then decided to set me up with a friend of her's who, apparently, was as bewildered with her decision as I was. Well, I took that on the chin. I and V are still friends today, and with hindsight, perhaps this turned out well.

B: B... B... B... Chxta is aware of all the details on this one. When I met B in law school, I was sure that I'd finally found "the one". She got me (something no one else managed before or since). She understood my sense of humor, which could sometimes appear from way out in left field. When I talked to her, I never had that subconscious feeling that I should lower my intellectual standards. Heck, with her I actually felt I needed to raise them! For her, I would have sold my soul with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. For her, I would have fought armies of dragons and legions of devils. If my previous loves were conflagrations, she was the core of a blue supergiant. And boy, did she roast me. Before her, I had no idea what it was like to be owned by someone else. She was the source of my greatest joy, and the source of my greatest pain. Before her, I didn't know that pain could cleave you in two just as surely as a broadsword. She pushed me to the very brink of sanity, and that is no joke. I strongly believe that if I didn't end up in Uselu in December 2005, there is nothing else life can throw at me. Because she was the kitchen sink. And perhaps I did lose my mind, because as I sit here typing this, I realise that even with the foreknowledge of how things would turn out with her, I'd do it all over again, and I'd do it again gladly.

So, there they are. But given the fact that the last ball went smack into me arm, can't I get a fourth? Or shouldn't I be allowed to take my base?

Gentleman No Dey O!

I read somewhere that when Jackie Robinson was signed as the first black man to play Major League Baseball, he was told there were certain things he could not partake in. These included foul language, alcohol, cigarettes, and (naturally) women. He was told that he had to be a model citizen and human being if he wanted other black players to follow in his footsteps. Of course, the white players on the team could cuss like sailors, drink like fishes, smoke like chimneys and hump like rabbits, but ole Jackie would only be allowed to watch them with longing in his heart.

Today, there are several black players in major league baseball (in fact, the MLB now says there aren't enough) and is consequently doing its level best to rekindle interest in baseball among black kids. But, like typical persons of African descent, they're mostly interested in basketball and football, which are the sure-fire tickets to large paydays. Baseball is doing ok, but many black kids dream of being like Mike.

Also, in today's MLB, the black players may use whatever swear words cross their minds, swim in bath tubs of beer, snort cocaine, smoke weed, and have orgies that would put the Romans to shame. America came around, and decided it was ok for the black guys to do whatever the white guys did. And boy, have they revelled in their freedom.

Now, we have one Senator Barack Obama (D, Illinois) or B-rock (thanks kulutempa), who is the first black man to be allowed to play American politics on the grandest stage of them all - the race for the White House. And like countless black men before him to challenge a white dominated establishment, he's had to be a gazillion times better than any of them just to get his foot in the door. And he's been pushing the door wider with every passing week.

When the race for the Democratic Party's nomination began, everyone expected it to be a coronation of Hillary Clinton. She'd been hotly tipped for the nomination as far back as the day her husband left office. Indeed, in the elections for New York's Senatorial Seat, coming in the aftermath of the September 11 attacks (during which Rudy Giuliani covered himself in glory for his handling of things in New York City) she proceeded to wipe the floor with Giuliani. During the last presidential race, she didn't run, mainly because she hadn't put enough on the ground, but even as the contest between John Kerry and Dubya was rounding up, Hillary let it be known that she was coming in next. At the time, there was no visible, credible opposition to her ambition, and she strutted around, probably choosing the drapes she would like in the Oval Office.

Then, the junior senator from Illinois stepped up. At first, people tended to dismiss him as another Jesse Jackson, who would make some noise, then fade so Queen Hillary could strut her way to the nomination. Hell, even this writer didn't think B-rock had as much chance as a snow ball in hell. (I'd have wagered money on the snowball, truth be told.) Then B-rock started winning. After he picked up his first few, Hillary went on air and shed some tears, then picked up a win. Then B-rock went on another long streak of wins, handing Hillary resounding defeats in primary after primary, and caucus after caucus. He picked up endorsements from some of the powerhouses in the Democratic party, including the entire Kennedy family, and overtook Hillary in campaign fund raising (a lead he still hasn't relinquished).

Then things started getting muddy, as Hillary and her husband decided to go to the Karl Rove School of Political Chicanery. Pictures of B-rock in traditional Kenyan dress, including headgear, were released by Hillary's campaign. The intent was to portray B-rock as a muslim. The staffers responsible for the incident "resigned" and Hillary's campaign went on. After that, they started mentioning his middle name, Hussein, and trying to whip up some of that good ole anti-Islamic sentiment. Through it all, B-rock refused to participate in the mudslinging, even though it ended up costing him California. Then she complained that B-rock was getting favourable coverage by the media! I mean, he's wiping the floor with her in vote after vote, and she wants them to talk about her? One of her campaign staff then said that if B-rcok wasn't a black man, he wouldn't be in the position he was in, ovbiously telling people that B-rock's wins were some kind of affirmative action. At first, Hillary merely distanced herself from the statement, without asking the woman to resign. Eventually though, Hillary bowed to pressure, and the woman "stepped aside."

Then Hillary started talking about B-rock's "lack of experience" and ran a "ringing phone" campaign ad calculated to whip up fear in voters. These enabled her to take Texas and Ohio. B-rock's controversial pastor then entered the equation, and this was used by Hillary to its maximum potential. Only the fact that B-rock is a gfted, nay brilliant, orator, was able to save his skin. Never mind that the said controversial pastor was received in the White House by Bill and Hillary Clinton while the former was POTUS.

Chxta has pointed out that it is perhaps time for B-rock to get into the gutter. While I am no fan of gutter politics, I certainly know that it is the single dirtiest game on earth, and American Politics is the king rat in that particular sewer. There is no way you can say "I'm a clean fighter" and get into the ring with Mike Tyson. In a certain video, Bruce Lee pointed out that in order to win a fight, you must be willing to adapt your style to match you opponent. He once grabbed a fellow actor from behind and held him in a choke hold. When the actor asked what to do in that situation, Bruce Lee simply said, "Bite me." The guy looked shocked that the undisputed king of martial arts would advocate stooping to such "underhanded" tactics. Then Bruce Lee said, "If you pour water into a cup, it becomes the cup. If you pour water into a bottle, it becomes the bottle. Be water."

The long and short of that video was "Fuck Queensbury rules." I hate to say it, but B-rock must be willing to take the fight to Hillary on her own level. If that means dropping the Harvard inflections, and becoming more "street" so be it.

Hillary has handed him the perfect weapon - her lies about Bosnia. And simply saying things like "Experience, huh?" don't cut it, I'm sorry. He has to get in there and force people to take a good hard look at her so-called "experience" and realise it's all just smoke and mirrors. I know the Republicans are waiting for it to get really nasty so they can preserve their dirt-digging energy, but B-rock, despite everything, is still outraising John McCain, the Republican Presidential Candidate, by a whopping 5:1. A few choice revelations about Hillary, some more uncovered "misstatements" etc. Get people to know the real Hillary, not the one parading about in public. Strip her of her cloak of respectability, and bring out the woman who spat four letter tirades at Bill Clinton during the Monica Lewinsky affair and hurled a table lamp at his head.

B-rock needs to get under her skin in the same manner. And adopt the following as his new campaign slogan:

Dis wan dis wan, gentleman no dey o!
Dis wan dis wan, gentleman no dey o!

Take her down.

Gunshots, Flak Jackets, and Videotape

Recently, Hillary Clinton, as part of her "foreign policy experience" campaign soundbites, stated that she recalled landing in Bosnia under sniper fire, and having to run straight to her car and get whisked off to the U.S. base located therein. While making this speech, Hillary laughed a little when mentioning the gunfire, as if to say "Hey, I'm cool about it, I've been shot at before, you know, gunshots ain't that big a deal. In other words, I can be cool under serious pressure."

Then the video of the event surfaced. Showing Hillary and Chelsea Clinton walking leisurely down from their plane, shaking hands with some military commanders, then stopping to have a poem recited to them by a little girl. Then strolling to their cars and driving off at the break-neck, sniper-fire avoiding speed of 20-25 mph.

Hillary now says she "misspoke". And that there was gunfire "in the hills around the airport". In other words "Fuck, where the hell did that video surface from? I thought we got all the copies." And "Ok, so they weren't, like, shooting at me, or in my general direction for that matter, but it was still pretty intense." She went further to say "They told us there would be gunfire, and that we'd have to move quickly... There was a little girl there, but I just took the thing from her and left." Gimme a break! I mean, "they told us"?! What about what actually happened? What she "remembered"? Was it a transplanted memory? Has she even seen the damn video? It was as scary in there as a kindergarten pillow fight for Christ's sake.

She's been caught in a massive lie, and now she looks like what she's been all along - Bill Clinton's wife. An American comedian (whose name I forget) once lampooned Hillar's foreing policy "experience" as follows: "I've been a comedian for 20 years, and I've been married for 10 of those years. But I'll bet if my wife gets up on this stage she won't be that funny."

Hillary's foreign policy experience is actually limited to 8 years of pillow talk with her husband while he was President of the United States. It is my humble opinion, therefore, that she should kindly stop telling the world she has any knowledge of how to deal with it.

And next time, she should make sure she gets all copies of the video before going out there and shooting her mouth off.

Palaver

Ok, my friends know I am a man of certain peculiar contradictions. I only drink socially, and then only Guiness, but my fridge is stocked with all kinds of genuinely hard liquor (the only thing missing so far is a bottle of gin, which error I am assidiously working to rectify).

In The Mafia Manager, V said that a thief with no opportunity to steal considers himself an honest man. Of recent, I've found myself relating to that statement. And no, it's not the way you're thinking. See, since I made it out of puberty alive, and began wandering the haphazard minefield called women, I made it a rule to cast a wide net, but once a "fish" was hooked, discard all the rest, and concentrate on she that was "in hand". In other words, I fancied myself a one-woman-man. All these years of clinging to that belief, and now I find my principles being seriously tested. Perhaps I never was truly afforded the opportunity to double-date, and so felt free to take on the label of non-playa. In recent weeks, however, the said opportunity has, shall we say, presented itself. And, to quote my Wafi brothers, na me take my own hand find trouble.

I'm currently in a relationship with someone, I shall refer to as E, and she's fantastic. She's smart as a whip, disgustingly beautiful, and I wouldn't trade her for all the Angelina Jolies in the world. The catch is, she's not here. We talk on the phone a lot, but the last time I saw her was in January. I had to spend Val's day doing, erm, something, erm, of a private nature. Nuff said. The thing is, I love her. She is my heart, my soul.

So, where does this post spring from? About three months ago, I met this other lady, M. At first, it was all "harmless" flirtation, nothing serious. I'd go to her office to transact business, and we'd shoot the breeze. I was on a roll. I became a favoured customer, allowed to jump queues, which in Naija, is a nice option to have. Somewhere along the line, our business relationship became more personal. I'd call her after work, and we'd hang out. Some weekends, we'd spend the whole of Saturday together, indoors, watching movies (get your mind out the gutter). My cousin, who's a girl, started flashing these warning signs in my face. Reminding me I had a girlfriend, and telling me M was some serious competition, and telling me I was allowing M become part of my life. I laughed and said we were just friends, and if it made her feel comfortable, I'd tell M I had a girlfriend, as M had told me she had a boyfriend. Soon after I delivered that piece of news, M and I had a falling out. She picked some issue to quarrel with me over, told me I didn't care about her, and told me not to call her again.

From then on, it was strictly business between us. My "favoured customer" status was revoked, and I whenever I did get to her, it was all mechanical, the banter was gone. I shrugged. No skin off my nose, and all that.

Then I found, to my instant dismay, that I was missing M. It made absolutely zero sense. I even told myself that I must be loco. I asked myself why I cared. But the feeling wouldn't go away, in fact, it got worse. Like an OOBE, I found myself doing things to get her attention. I changed my evening run route so it passed by her office, and then her home. Didn't go in, though. I'm not a stalker. (Feel free to trot out the "opportunity" statement here.) In any event, after doing some things I will not repeat here, M and I got back on speaking terms, then laughing terms, then post-work terms.

The thing is, I have wondered how it was that I allowed M get so deep under my skin. Whether I like it or not, she's actually become E's fierce rival in my head, and once my head goes, the rest of me follows. I know it's not fair to E, since she's not around to directly defend her territory. M is very much like E, especially in my most important category - the ability to have a conversation without feeling like I'm speaking Greek to a Chinese mule.

My feelings for E have not diminished in anyway, in fact they're as strong as they've ever been. But somewhere along the line, I have developed feelings for M that are steadily growing stronger. And I don't know what to do. I could break up with E, which is impossible. I could cut M off completely, which, judging by recent events, stands shoulder-to-shoulder with impossible. Or I could yell "geronimo" and see where this roller-coaster is headed.

Either way, I've now learned what Fela meant when he said "When trouble sleep, yanga go wake am..."

Red Light, Green Light

Ed's Note: I think it's high time I had this particular rant. In fact, it's been a long, long time coming.

When I was a kid, there was a game we played called "Red Light, Green Light". The game was based on the colours of the traffic lights, so someone got to play the traffic light, and the others got to play cars. So, when you heard "red light", you stopped, and when you heard "green light", you moved. The purpose of the game was to get to the position of the "traffc light", and in so doing, you got to take over and exercise some iron-fisted, dictatorial control over the rest of your playmates since no one could move without your say so. But if a player moved before green light was called, the person either got thrown out of the game, or ordered back some steps. And no, no one could play the role of a bullion van.

Now I am an adult, living and working in Abuja, and sometimes I wish I could play that game with Abuja drivers, only, instead of throwing rule breakers out of the game, I'd get a fucking car compactor and crush their fucking cars. Preferrably with them inside. The amount of broken glass I've seen on the road in the last year is enough to build a glass car, complete with glass wheels and a glass engine. I don't know if referrring to many Abuja drivers as maniacal psychopaths would be construed as an insult to true maniacal psychopaths everywhere. They don't stop when they see red lights, they drive on the pedestrian walkway if there's a hold up, and they see absolutely nothing wrong in staying in the turning lane, then heading straight, usually running into someone who was turning.

And don't even get me started on the speed. I know that for many Nigerians, the idea of a road that is both wide and smooth is a fairy tale. But many, on arriving at just such a place, react like they're in heaven, and decide to find out whether the 200 on the speedometer was just put there by the manufacturer or if it's actually an attainable speed. And then, with screeching tyres and melding metal, they're reminded that they're actually on good ole earth.

A couple of nights ago, I watched some idiot total an Inifinti QX9. He approached a corner way too fast, and instead of heading straight and looking for the next U-Turn, he jumped on the brakes and tried to make the turn. (Perhaps he'd just finished watching "The Fast and The Furious: Tokyo Drift" or something.) In any event, with loud squeal of tires, he slammed into the road divider, went airborne, and came to rest against a stop light. And, just to prove that Fortune is indeed blind and takes care of fools, he stumbled out of the wreck with nary a scratch. The wonders of modern engineering, perhaps. Others, though, are not so lucky.

Nigerians appear generally incapable of exercising any sort of self regulation when the authorities decide to abdicate. Whenever I stop to allow others pass, I am assualted by a cacophony of car horns, and other drivers decide to zoom around me since I apparently don't have a destination in mind and am just wandering aimlessly.

Now, in the event of power failure (insert hearty guffaw/snide snicker here) the human back up is expected to kick in to prevent accidents. It is a notorious fact that at several junctions in Abuja, the traffic lights have not worked for so long it would be safe to assume they were installed by an ancient and wonderfully idealistic civilisation.

At these junctions, which are entirely in human hands, you must screw your courage to the sticking place if you're driving towards them at any time between 12 and 2pm. Because that's when the traffic controllers choose to retire to some leafy shade to gist and watch the traffic control itself. Of course, when the inevitable accident occurs, they hop out adjust their uniforms and haul out the trusty rope and blue chalk to apportion blame for the incident. Never mind that they are being paid to make sure that the accident wouldn't occur in the first place.

And, before they start bitching about the lousy pay and poor work conditions, there are some of them who take some pride in what they do. There's a particular guy who can be found at his post rain or shine, and not only does he do his job, he fucking dances while doing it. I guess that makes him special, huh?

In any event, it's only God that keeps one out of the crosshairs of these fucking wacko drivers. And I pray I never run into one. Because I'll fucking murder the bastard.

A Strong PIMP Hand

When President Yar'adua was sworn in, many pointed to the manner of his emergence, and the overwhelming influence of Baba on that process as evidence that Yar'adua would be a mere marionette, and Baba would be pulling the strings. I must admit that part of me shared this view. Then I ran into a certain paramount ruler from the northern part of Nigeria, and in the course of talking polictics, he told me things about Yar'adua which made my jaw drop. I am now seeing some of these things manifested.

President Yar'adua is not a tough-talking, rambunctious, hard-as-nails, general-who-never-fires-blank like his predecessor, but he's certainly demonstrated a capacity for independent thought since he took office. The list of policy positions he has taken in direct contrast or even glaring opposition to Baba is growing daily.

First, he repossessed the refineries in the wake of deafening public outcry, an action Baba would never even have contemplated for a nanosecond. This demonstrated that President Yar'adua was cut from not just a different cloth, but came from a different textile factory entirely. At that time, I rubbed my hands in anticipation of what would come next.

When Ettehgate occured, inside gist had it that Baba prevailed on Yar'adua several times to use his office to save her job. Yar'adua not only refused, he flared up whenever anyone suggested he was going to act to save Etteh. Again, this was a marked departure from the norm under Baba, during whose tenure the very idea of an independent National Assembly would have had the originator of such a perfidious idea immediately sent to pasture. Indeed, the emergence of Senator Ken Nnamani as Senate President was not Baba's idea, and he balked at it, but the Senators, for once, stood up to him and insisted on having their own President for once. And we all know how that turned out for Baba.

Now, Yar'adua is begining to re-examine the entire privatisation process. It started with a Ministerial investigation into the sales of NIOMCO, Delta Steel and Ajaokuta Steel to Gbenga Obasanjo (yes, the same one), and though the full findings of the panel are yet to be revealed, a sneak peek reveals several irregularities, and downright illegalities. This means the "sale" will have to be scrutinised even deeper, and maybe repudiated.

The most recent event involves the "privatisation" of NITEL/Mtel and subsequent takeover by Transcorp. Now, that particular takeover has been plagued by more problems than a pastor in a whorehouse. First, the whole IILL mess cost Llonge his job at First Bank, and the process was stopped. Then the process was restarted, and Baba refused to include the value of Mtel's mobile license ($250 million) and NITEL's considerable equipment and property holdings nationwide in the valuation of the company as it was sold at a knock-down drag-out price to Transcorp.

Then Transcorp came in, brought BT to operate NITEL, and in record time, BT pulled out. Since then, NITEL/Mtel have not had an operator. Salaries have been unpaid, and now the government has gotten fed up with all the delays and excuses, and has passed a resolution ordering Transcorp to make 27% of it's holdings in NITEL/Mtel available for sale to an investor with proper qualifications and experience.

Okereke-Onyiuke, Chairman of Transcorp's Frankensteinian board, has come out to say nothing can be done with NITEL until 2009 under the terms of the privatisation agreement. I think someone should whisper in her ear that she should keep such ideas to herself if she doesn't want to piss off the Federal Government.

A pissed off Federal Government will simply nationalise Transcorp, boot out the board, including herself, and then do what it wants with the assets of the company, including one 5-star Hilton Hotel. And if she doesn't think it's possible, she should talk to Jimoh Ibrahim.

In any event, President Yar'adua is certainly showing us all that his PIMP hand is strong. Very strong.

$16 Billion?!

When the National Assembly began sitting on President Yar'adua's first budget, everyone expected they would be done in time for the Christmas/New Year break. However, this was not to be. This National Assembly refused to simply rubber-stamp the budget, and began exercising their oversight functions for the first time. By using their legal powers, they began making startling discoveries. They found out that there were some secret government accounts containing several hundred billion Naira, which were not reflected in the budget. This was hastily rectified. They found out that there were states who had monies illegally deducted from their allocations to pay off Nigeria's debt by Obasanjo, and ordered the CBN to promptly refund the money. They raised the benchmark crude oil price proposed by Yar'adua. Then they began looking at past expenditure, perhaps merely expecting to get a feel for what their predecessors were prone to doling out. Talk about opening up a barrell of worms.

When it was revealed that Obasanjo's administration had blown $10,000,000,000.00 (Ten Billion Dollars) on the power sector with no results, Nigerians were outraged. For that kind of money, we expected to see some drastic improvements in 8 years, not a steady and accelerating decline. For that kind of money, every bush path in Nigeria should have had a row of working streetlights. For that kind of money, we ought to have consigned that all-time favourite expression of NEPA/PHCN, "load-shedding" to the rubbish heap of archaic expressions. For that kind of money, Nigerian generator importers ought to have started looking for another country to set up shop. For that kind of money, Nigerians should have been smiling.

Last week, Speaker of the House of Representatives, Hon. Dimeji Bankole, revealed that Baba had actually blown $16,000,000,000.00 (Sixteen Billion Dollars) on the power sector. He also revealed that the extra 6 billion was in "extra-budgetary expenditure". Now, perhaps Hon. Bankole was still smarting at the disrespect he was shown at a recent PDP meeting, during which he was told to stay outside while PDP had its caucus meeting and was thus getting his own back, but there have been no denials of his statement. If anything, the silence has been deafening.

$16 Billion is a huge amount of money, and there have so far been no explanations as to where it went. Furthermore, the fact that there was 6 Billion in "extra-budgetary expenditure" must raise our eyebrows for it means 6 Billion unbudgeted dollars were spent on power. This from a government that always cried poverty when told to spend money on education, health and roads.

These revelations add more fuel to the steadily growing clamour for the probe of Baba's tenure, despite the recent clean bill of health handed to him by Uncle Nuhu, who has himself been axed, and banished to Kuru.

How long can President Yar'adua continue to ignore theses calls, especially given his Rule of Law posture? Surely, the Rule of Law doesn't rule out probing a previous administration even if only to ascertain where these huge sums of money went. Or does it?

Home Video

Thunder booms in background, jagged lightning slashes across sky, rapid-fire commentary delivered in "grave" tone, accompanied by video montage almost guaranteed to induce an attack of epilepsy.

Address flashes across screen, listing addresses in Onitsha and Lagos, and leaving viewer to wonder just how many movie companies can occupy not just the same street, but the same address. Screen goes blank...

Mournful song is played containing lyrics telling the entire story of the movie to follow. Ok, you think, since you now know exactly what's going to happen in movie, time to move on. But you've discovered a hidden masochistic streak which glues your butt to the chair. Brain sends message to butt cheeks: "Send all nerve endings into stand-by mode. This is going to be a long one."

Screen slowly brightens, showing village setting. Festival in progress. Flute and drum players take center-stage. "Hey, culture!," you say gleefully, and settle back to watch. Dancers prance on screen, and proceed to gyrate till covered from head to toe in glistening sweat. You check your watch: 30 minutes gone in movie, and still not a word of dialogue. Ok, so it's a musical, you surmise, or perhaps a dance fest. Camera zooms in one scowling figure, one smiling one, and two ovbious love-birds, then pans to dancers, and screen fades to black. Huh? you ask.

Screen brightens again, showing palace, or at least, that's what it looks like. Men gathered in council. Some wearing cotton vests. Er, you ask, wasn't this movie supposedly set in 1403 or something of that nature? Men argue on screen, scowling figure prevalent. You check watch: another 30 minutes have flown by. Screen fades to black.

Screen brightens again. Love-birds shown doing, well, love things. Characters prance around screen, chasing each other, music plays. Screen fades to black. You check watch: another 30 minutes of your life seem to have mysteriously vanished.

Message appears on screen: "To God be the glory" quickly followed by "Watch out for Part 2".

You blink slowly. You try to rise from your seat, but your brain seems unable to restore power to your legs. You sense liquid on your chin, and wipe it away, only to discover it's spittle. You shake your head, wondering where all these damned cobwebs came from. You try to remember your name, and the letters seem to come to you a lot slower than they did a scant 90 minutes ago. Brain gradually reboots, but is sluggish, seems to have been infected by a nasty Trojan.

Congratulations, you have just endured a Nigerian "Home Video"...

(Watch out for Part 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10,...)

He's an S.O.B, But...

Once upon a time, certain men were engaged in a war with the then Soviet Union. The men claimed they had the right to independence and self-determination, and were superbly backed up by the U.S. of A, who provided them with sophisticated weapons and training.

Eventually, the leaders of these men were received on the White House lawn in a ceremony, and described by then President of the U.S., Ronald Reagan, as the "moral equivalents of America's founding fathers" while the flashbulbs popped.

These men were from a certain Afghanistan, and were the core leadership of a group within the "resistance" called the Taliban...

You see, back then, it was the in-thing to be anti-Communist, and every Communist or Soviet leaning government became a "regime" in the words of White House Press Releases, and in the publications and broadcasts of the Western press. It didn't matter if these governments were democractically elected, which they usually were.

In Latin America, terrified by the prospect of having Communist governments in its backyard, America sponsored several coups-d'etat, assassinations, and so on. They propped up all manner of repressive, murderous regimes in the name of "strategic allies" and so on.

In Africa, the same thing happened. If you wanted freedom to murder as many of your citizens as you could, while looting your treasury, all you had to do was label them "Communists" and America would send you a care package, and stroll off in the other direction while whistling "Dixie". Nelson Mandela, who was fighting for the emancipation of the Black South African, was labelled a Communist and thrown in jail for twenty-seven years. When the Apartheid regime murdered several hundred unarmed students in Soweto, the Americans did not condemn this action, they simply looked the other way. Britain actively supported the activities of the regime in South Africa, which led to British Petroleum in Nigeria becoming African Petroleum after it was nationalised by an enraged Nigerian government.

In the Middle East, Saddam Hussein of Iraq was free to purchase mustard gas and other biological and chemical weapons as long as he served the purpose of keeping Iran quiet. When he turned the mustard gas on the Kurds in northern Iraq, no one said a damn thing.

The list could go on and on. There are countless instances where a government is elected in a free and fair election, but overthrown by an American sponsored coup because the new President wouldn't have played ball.

These days, anti-Communist has been replaced by anti-Terrorist.

You see, at some point, after the Americans had used them to embarrass the Soviet Union and promptly dropped them, the Taliban got angry. The millions of dollars in aid they had been promised to help them rebuild their shattered country never arrived, and they were, naturally, pissed. They realised they had been a one-war stand with the U.S. who never bothered to call or write afterwards, and they planned their revenge, extracting it spectacularly on September 11, 2001.

America howled in pain and rage, went into Afghanistan, and rooted them out. Suddenly, smart dictators all over the world realised that the new way to consolidate their power had arrived, and none jumped on the bandwaggon faster than one Pervez Musharraf of Pakistan.

You see, General Musharraf had a serious problem - America wasn't too happy with his military dictatorship status, and was begining to make serious noises about forcing him out of power. For him, therefore, September 11, 2001 was like a gift from God, and he seized it with both hands. Quickly, he made all the right noises, and all the right actions, mounting military campaigns against Al-Qaeda "strongholds" in Pakistan, and by so doing, become America's new best friend. Having consolidated his position as a "strategic ally" he decided the time was right to focus on extending his rule in Pakistan.

At the time the people of Pakistan are demanding elections be held in a free and fair atmosphere, General don't-let-the-safari-suit-fool-ya Musharraf suddenly declared a state of emergency, shut down all private radio and television stations, arrested all "hostile" judges and hounded all notable oppostion figures into hiding or jail. He's made it a point of duty to arrest all persons of learning, especially the lawyers, and toss them all in the clink, thereby depriving the opposition of an intellectual front.

America, has of course, remained resolutely silent, and apart from the usual diplomatic noises, has refused to unequivocally tell the General that his actions are unacceptable, and everyday that passes emboldens Musharraf to abrogate some new freedom of his "subjects".

This is because America's policy with regard to repressive, totalitarian regimes can be summed up in one sentence: "He's an S.O.B, but, by God, he's OUR S.O.B!"

What's Good For The Goose...

Some time ago, Hamas terrorists operating out of Southern Lebanon crossed the border into Israel and abducted four Israeli soldiers who were on patrol. Hamas then demanded the release of some of its members who were languishing in Israeli prisons in exchange for the four soldiers.

Israel declared it would not negotiate with terrorists, then launched a bombing campaign on Hamas held areas in Lebanon. Hamas retaliated by launching missile attacks on Israel. What happened next stunned everyone. Israel, in the name of "cutting off supplies to Hamas" proceeded to bomb every single bridge in Lebanon. When that was done, Israel then proceeded to utterly destroy the Beirut International Airport. When the Lebanese President protested, he was told that the destruction of his country's infrastructure was his punishment for failing to control Hamas.

George W. Bush went on air to say Israel was fully justified in its actions, even when it became clear that the bombing campaign was no longer about four kidnapped soldiers, but rather about (in the words of an Israeli general) "setting Lebanon's infrastructure back twenty years". When the bombing moved to schools and hospitals, Israel said Hamas was hiding it's members in those places. When the bodies of children were brought out of the smoking rubble, Israel naturally maintained a stony silence.

It took months of international pressure to end the bombing. I will never forget the sight of the Lebanese president talking about what Israel was doing to his country, and breaking down in tears on international television. The lesson America and Israel taught the world during that period was quite simple - if some terrorist attacks your country, you make his government pay.

Now, that lesson looks set to return to bite the Americans in the ass. Kurdish terrorists, operating out of Northern Iraq, crossed the border into Turkey, and murdered 17 Turkish soldiers. Turkey has been having problems with the Kurds for a while now, and were probably among those who were sad to see Saddam Hussein go, as he was responsible for keeping the Kurds quiet. Indeed, Turkey denied the U.S. permission to overfly their territory during the invasion of Iraq.

With the attack on its soldiers, Turkey began contemplating military action in Iraq. Syria and Iran, being perrenial trouble-makers, were quick to state they would fully support any military action undertaken by the Turks. There are no prizes for guessing which example was cited by Syria and Iran as their precedent for dealing with the Kurdish terrorists. The Kurds hastily offered a cease-fire which was rejected out of hand by Turkey. The Turkish people took to the streets demanding a response from their government.

Seeing that they would now have to either engage Turkey in military action in violation of their NATO treaty, or step aside and let Turkey destroy their new vacation location for oil executives, America and Britain threw themselves on their knees and begged Turkey not to retaliate.

By Israeli precedent, Turkey could bomb Baghdad back to the Stone Age (whichever parts the Americans have not yet destroyed), they could bomb every road, bridge, and footpath to cut off the Kurds from their supplies, they could bomb the airports, the sea ports, etc., and should the puppet government in Iraq complain, they will be told that it is their punishment for failing to control the Kurds. And when they run out of infrastructure to destroy, they can then face the job of destroying hospitals and schools to make sure no Kurdish terrorists are hiding within.

Turkey may not choose the military option, but it's nice to know that if they do, they'll only be following the example of America and Israel and opening a new chapter in the "War of Terror".

The Burden Of History

Is it just me, or has Baba been sounding more and more like a petulant child of recent? First of all, he whined on and on about being stuck in a Lagos traffic jam for three hours. If I were in his shoes, I would have been overjoyed to have gotten out of the traffic jam without being lynched by irate Nigerians, or falling victim to the numerous armed robbers who treat traffic jams the way lions treat herds of buffalo.

Next, Baba whined that he'd stopped reading Nigerian newspapers because the journalists were always criticising him. This coming from a man who once had (or still has) a sign outside Ota Farm saying, "Women, Dogs, and Journalists Not Welcome"!

Now, Baba has issued perhaps his most famous gaffe yet. He's said that he doesn't listen to those who criticise his tenure because "History" would judge him. I am not 100% certain, but I think the impact of his butt hitting terra firma must have scrambled the old man's brains.

In case his Special Advisers (whose advice he famously declared he didn't have to take, despite having so many of them) forgot to mention it, his tenure officially became historical material on May 29, 2007. Once he handed over to Yar'adua, any detractors of his were free to line up batteries of artillery and take as many shots at his reign as they desired. They can now call him a liar, thief, dictator, corrupt man, etc. for one simple reason - he no longer has the coercive power of the state to crush them. And they will revel in their new found freedom. In any event, whether it's 3 months, 3 years, 3 decades, or even 3 millenia from now, History will remember Baba's tenure for the following events:

1. Incessant fuel price hikes.
2. Inability to reform power sector despite several arrogant boasts, eventually blamed woes on "saboteurs".
3. Inability to restore refineries despite billions of naira spent.
4. Increase in militant activities, crippling foreign investment in Niger-Delta, and leading to the loss of billions of naira.
5. Rampant corruption at all levels of government.
6. Monumentally fraudulent elections in 2003.
7. Astronomically fraudulent elections in 2007.
8. Use of anti-corruption agencies to harrass and intimidate political opponents.
9. Kidnap of a sitting governor with no repercussions for perpetrators.
10. Rampant disregard for court orders.
11. Blatant theft of public parastatals by government officials (including Baba) through "privatisation" fire sales.
12. Introduced and sustained an enabling environment for the continued rape of Nigerians by GSM companies.
13. The Senate President Relay Race.
14. Incessant throat clearing.
15. Attempted and failed to amend constitution to give himself third term as President.

And this is by no means an exhaustive list.

So, in my capacity as an "amateur" historian, I would give Baba a pass mark for his tenure. Why, you wonder? Well, if only for the fact that all his other failures were outweighed by his failure to get a third term. That, at least, brought unbridled joy and happiness to Nigerians, and for giving us all the opportunity to point fingers and laugh (at him) he should be fondly remembered.

Security!!!

Three men walk into view. Each carries a briefcase, and all are well dressed in suits and ties. They walk up to a door which is guarded by a large and powerfully built man, and attempt to walk past him.

Guard: Hold it fellas. Just where do you think you’re going?

1^st Man: We’re here to update the security systems of this facility.

Guard: Nice try pal. Step back please.

1^st Man: What’s the meaning of this? We built this installation, and we’re here to run a security update.

Guard: Really? Ok, let’s see some ID.

1^st Man: This is an outrage. I’ll have your job for this, I promise you.

2^nd Man: Just show him the ID.

3^rd Man: Yeah.

1^st Man: (Flashes Badge) Microsoft Security Systems. Now let us through.

Guard: Sorry, can’t do that.

MSS3: Why the hell not?

Guard: You don’t have clearance.

MSS2: What do you mean “clearance”? We built this joint, we know every loophole in it.

MSS1: As a matter of fact, I’d like to see your ID, and know what the hell you’re doing here.

Guard: (Sighs) Zone Labs Security.

MSS3: Zone Labs? What are you doing here?

(Sudden commotion, man, apparently just the recipient of a rather heavy beating, is frog marched out the door, and thrown unceremoniously into garbage dump)

MSS1: Who the fuck was that?

ZL: That was Mr. Norton. I take it he’s just been fired.

MSS2: Mr. Norton was our liaison here. What happened?

ZL: Apparently he allowed some unauthorized persons into the facility.

MSS3: And for that he got beaten up that badly?

ZL: Well, the Boss took exception to the fact that they were shacked up in his office.

MSS1: I don’t believe it. Mr. Norton is highly trained. He’d never allow something like that.

ZL: Look pal, Norton’s gone, we are now in charge of this facility, and if you want in, you’ll have to get clearance from the boss.

MSS2: So, call him, and let us speak with him.

ZL: Fine. (Dials wearily)

BOSS: What is it?

ZL: Sorry to disturb you sir, but there’s some guys down here asking me to let them in.

BOSS: And who are they?

ZL: Some Microsoft Security people.

BOSS: (Cigar glows suddenly, showing features in hideous mask of rage) Microsoft, eh?

ZL: Yes sir.

BOSS: Has Norton been disposed of?

ZL: Yes sir.

BOSS: Did the Microsoft people see it happen?

ZL: Yes sir. They were right here.

BOSS: Good. Put one of them on the phone.

ZL: Yes sir. (To MSS1) He wants to speak with you.

MSS1: Hello?

BOSS: Microsoft Security?

MSS1: Yes sir. We’re here to…

BOSS: Shut the fuck up.

MSS1: (Stunned gasp)

BOSS: Now, listen to me you worm, and listen good. That prick Norton you stuck me with couldn’t find his own asshole with both hands and a GPS-assisted map.

MSS1: Mr. Norton came with the highest recommend…

BOSS: Didn’t I tell you to shut up?

MSS1: (Swallows)

BOSS: Now, I’ve had to relieve Norton of his duties, and my facilities were naked until a friend recommended the Zone boys. And they do a helluva better job than Norton ever dreamed of.

MSS1: Yes sir.

BOSS: Now, what the fuck do you want?

MSS1: We’re here to run a security check.

BOSS: (Laughs uproariously) Security? Tell me you’re joking.

MSS1: Er, it was in er, the contract you signed, sir.

BOSS: Fine, fine. I’m a law-abiding man, and I’ll honor the contract.

MSS1: That’s good sir.

BOSS: However, the Zone people will accompany you every step of the way, and their permission must be granted for any thing you touch. Is that clear?

MSS1: Sir, that is highly irregular, and I’m not sure I can…

BOSS: Fine. You do it my way, or you don’t do it at all. I won’t have you pricks planting something on me.

MSS1: I must consult my team…

BOSS: While you’re consulting, bear in mind that I’ve got other people begging for your contract, and I find myself leaning their way a bit…

MSS1: (Clearly terrified) Of course, sir. (Hands phone back to ZL)

ZL: Boss?

BOSS: Shadow them all the way. And make sure they don’t leave anything behind.

ZL: Yes sir. (Hangs up, and signals three colleagues)

MSS2: Who are they?

ZL: They will be your escort. And if you so much as breathe funny, you boys will be discussing the contents of the garbage can with your pal Norton. Get me?

MSS1: (Subdued) Yes.

The End.

Substance Abuse

Ed’s Note: The Law has not suddenly become an economist, a macro-economist or any other sort of economic or financial pontificator. The Law, under no coercion, threat, other form of intimidation, hereby willingly admits that he knows sweet fuck-all about economic theory. The Law is merely speaking via the instrument of common sense. Which instrument is (according to The Law’s mother in one of her many pearls of wisdom) not that common…

No, no, boys and girls. This is not a treatise on the dangers of weed, cocaine, alcohol, or amphetamines. This is not about “just saying no.” This is not about resisting peer pressure.

Sometimes, men undertake certain actions which can not simply be explained away, actions which require deeper scrutiny as to the motives behind them. General Custer deciding that Little Big Horn was an excellent place to make camp, Hugh Grant deciding to get a blow job in his car, General Abacha forgetting to read the small pamphlet contained in the box of Viagra, Tricky Dick sending his men to the Watergate Hotel, Bill Clinton forgetting that dried, two-week old semen stains still contain DNA, Adolf Hitler looking at Great Britain, half-crippled and just waiting for the Wermacht to come strolling in, and deciding to invade the Soviet Union instead, and so on.

Given a chance to explain, these men, great, powerful, influential, popular, would probably mumble something about pressures of work, the need to relieve tension, and give the public the sad puppy look while pleading for forgiveness (this worked especially well for Hugh Grant, except his babe was not amused). If you probe a little deeper, you might find that there was one shot of whisky too many involved, or an extra hit off a stick of igbo so strong it shouldn’t even be allowed on the market.

Perhaps this explanation will suffice to explain the recent decision of CBN Governor Soludo to “re-denominate” the Naira.

Suddenly, with Baba gone, Soludo found himself in the cold following the ascension of Umoru to power, and this despite his decision to drop “Charlie” and get back to his roots. Chuks, as he now wants to be known, went into seclusion for a while. This was rather unusual for a man who did his best to stay in the media spotlight every other week during the tenure of Baba. Some disrespectful wags said he was merely taking the route of Old Testament prophets, and going into the wilderness for 40 days and 40 nights at the conclusion of which he would emerge emaciated, bushy bearded, and, perhaps, bearing a stone tablet or two containing the cure for Nigeria’s economic woes.

So, when Chuks called a press conference, everyone was curious. People wanted to know if he had indeed returned with a stone tablet, and whether God had managed to learn how to write in Igbo sometime in the past 4,000 years or so. A stone tablet would surely not have been as shocking as what Chuks did have to say. His resignation? No such luck. And no stone tablets either. Rather, Chuks announced that as of August 1, 2008, we would be dropping two zeroes from our currency, scrapping the all notes from 50 Naira and above, issuing new notes, and pegging our dollar exchange rate at N1.25 in the new currency. Over the next few days, persons took to the pages of the papers lauding the new direction of the currency policy, rolling out the drums, ticker tape, confetti, balloons and so on. Chuks’ speech was described as “ground-breaking” (indeed, the collective impact of millions of jaws hitting the floor was felt so strongly across the world that a tsunami warning was issued). He was hailed as the best thing to happen to Nigeria since…since…erm…Obasanjo.

This is the same Chuks who told us to spend hundreds of millions printing 1000 Naira notes which he explained as being necessary for “high volume transactions” (read PDP National Convention). Next, he told us to spend billions of naira printing new 50, 20, 10, and 5 Naira notes and minting new coins. Further hundreds of millions were spent on a nationwide publicity campaign to “sensitize” Nigerians to the new notes. Now, barely a year after, Chuks wants us to scrap the 1000 Naira note, (election don pass, abi?), and apparently print new 20 Naira notes to replace the current ones, as well as new 50 kobo, 1, 5, and 10 Naira notes. Naturally, this will run into further billions of Naira.

Now, re-denomination in and of itself is not a bad idea. If your currency is in the toilet, that is. If prices in your currency make as much sense as base jumping without a parachute. Or if your economy is in the midst of a crippling crisis and inflation has sent prices zooming out towards Alpha Centauri at Warp Seven. Indeed, the examples Chuks gave in his “ground-breaking” speech were all uniformly of countries experiencing one of more of the above.

Argentina was in the midst of a series of economic crises so crippling they tried everything short of contacting a babalawo (and I’m not sure they didn’t do that) when they re-denominated their currency several times between 1970 and 1992.

Germany was feeling the effects of an ill-advised attempt to conquer the world, and groaning under the effects of the Treaty of Versailles when they re-denominated the Mark in 1923. And in 1948, after yet another ill-advised attempt to conquer the world, they re-denominated again. Third time’s the charm, anyone?

Buying a bottle of Coca Cola (I could have said coke) in Ghana cost thousands of cedis, prior to their decision to re-denominate. Need I say more?

His other examples of Bolivia, Mexico, Brazil, Poland, and Uganda (yes, that Uganda) to mention a few, simply aren’t worth puncturing.

Was Chuks, by mentioning these crisis babies, perhaps trying to tell us we would were either experiencing an economic crisis, or would soon be in the middle of one? You’d lean this way if not for the fact that in the same speech, Chuks mentioned the fact that our banking sector was booming, and we would soon have not one, not two, but seven banks with market capitalization exceeding $1 billion. Hardly sounds like an economy in crisis, does it?

He said we would be restoring the Naira to its pre-SAP value by re-denominating. Let’s look at that for a minute. Prior to SAP, in the 80s, the Naira exchanged at close to par with the dollar, and while our economy wasn’t exactly booming like it was in the 60s, it wasn’t dead either. Maradona, in his infinite wisdom, decided to take an IMF loan, but opened the topic to debate by Nigerians. The people told him we didn’t need the IMF and their loans and conditions. Maradona nodded, wisely, announced his intention to abide by the wishes of the overwhelming majority of his countrymen, then took the loan anyway. As part of the IMF’s conditions, he devalued the Naira, and adopted such other economic “measures” as prescribed by the IMF which promptly sent our economy into diarrhea-induced intestinal cramps.

Even so, at the time of the dark-goggled one (of blessed memory), our Naira was exchanging at 85 to a dollar, and stayed that way for a while. When the reform champion, General-who-never-fires-blank, and all-round tough guy, Baba arrived on the scene, the Naira inexplicably nose-dived to 130 to a dollar, and has since hovered between 130 and 127. With the repayment of our foreign debt, and the rising clamor for our Naira to be restored to its pre-Maradona days, Chuks has decided to chop everyone off at the knees. If the Naira-Dollar exchange rate goes to N1.25 in the new regime, it simply means that we are now exchanging our currency at the current rate of N125. The value of the currency would not have improved, and Chuks is banking on the semantics involved to blind everyone to the reality of the situation.

As a friend in the banking sector put it, “If from August 2008, the 500 Naira recharge card goes for 5 Naira, you’ll still have to shed the same blood sweat and tears for the 5 Naira as you currently do for the 500. The value of the currency won’t improve in any way.” This is so true.

The difference between revaluing the currency and re-denominating is therefore stark and bare. If the currency was revalued, the value contained in the Naira would rise accordingly. Re-denominating is having currency of the same value, but without the same name, or as we liked to say back in UNIBEN, I say see neck, you say see throat.

Now that Umoru has “suspended” Chuks’ plans (prior to giving him the boot, it is whispered in some quarters) I hope he doesn’t give in to any flowery explanations or rationalizations, and the plan remains suspended indefinitely.

If Chuks could kindly let us have the number of his weed-man, I'm sure we will then be able to join him on cloud 27, or where ever he was when the crazy idea entered his head.

Diplomatic Impunity

I have no doubt that every morning, the staff of the British High Commission in Nigeria wake up, peruse their newspapers, and heave huge sighs of relief. Another day has passed, and their offices haven't been bombed, burned down, invaded, etc.

They probably exchange "jolly goods" and any other nonsensical expressions when they arrive at work, and settle down for another day of doing what they perhaps enjoy more than anything else - looking for new and innovative ways to scam Nigerians.

For, make no mistake about it, a massive, massive scam is going on at the British High Commission, perpertrated through their UK Visa Applications Center.

Now, perhaps, we Nigerians are partly to blame, what with our apparent burning desire to visit their country and contribute our quota to its development at the expense of our own, and they can perhaps claim that in the mire of thousands of applications that pour in daily, legitimate persons get the bum's rush. But come the fuck on!

Here's how the scam works - you pay your Visa Application fee, and are given a form to fill. The staff of the UK Visa Applications Center are remarkably helpful in letting you know what documents to submit in support of your application, depending on what type it is. You go off, get the required documents, ranging from Sponsors' Letters to Bank Statements, and submit them in support of your application. Then you settle down for a two-week waiting period (officially). At the end of two weeks, assuming you've done all they asked, they should grant your request, right? You'd be sooooooo wrong.

Over the past year, several people I know have applied for varying visas from the UK VAC. All of them have been denied. Perhaps, you say, all these people have wrongly filled in their information, or failed to provide vital documents, but that isn't so.

My good friend, who is now in the UK and contemplating a Ph.D, was denied a student visa on his first application on the ground that although he'd paid his school fees in full, he was not considered to have sufficient funds to pay for his Masters Programme! Huh? He paid the entire fee, submitted evidence of this fact, and yet was told he didn't have the funds to pay for a Masters programme, which he'd already done. It was only on his second application that the Visa was granted. Naturally, he had to pay another Visa Application Fee, and submitted the exact same documents, before he was granted his Visa.

Another friend was denied a student visa on the grounds that the tax clearance certificate submitted by him in support of his application was "fraudulently obtained". Mind, the tax clearance certificate in question wasn't his personally, but belonged to his father's company. In support of his student visa application, he submitted bank statements from 4 banks, each showing a healthy account balance, and corresponding history of high volume transactions. Apparently, not being able to deny him on financial grounds, they came up with "fraudulently obtained tax clearance certificate". The young man has now obtained a letter from the tax clearance comptroller verifying the certificate, and re-applied, paying another Visa Application fee. They'll probably grant this one.

Yet another person was denied a visiting visa on the grounds that he deposited money into his account "suspiciously close" to the time he paid his Visa Application fee. Naturally, they failed to provide a definition of "suspiciously close". So, while he had evidence of funds to finance his trip, he failed to provide evidence of their origin, and could not therefore be given a Visa. Nice, eh? So, if you were to come into a million naira contract after years of sweating it out, and slogging away, you should wait a few years to apply for a UK Visa, so as to avoid applying "suspiciously close" to when you were finally smiled upon by God for your years of hard work.

And finally, my personal favourite, and one that doesn't simply take the cake, but takes the entire fucking pastry industry. A young lady I know wished to visit the UK on holiday. She happens to hold a respectable job at a big bank, and she's worked there for a number of years. In her case, she was told that while she had submitted print outs showing places of interest to visit in the UK, she had failed to provide a "reason" for her trip, and then, the whopper - she was further informed that while she had shown evidence of financial status vis her ability to pay for her trip, the trip would consume her savings and was therefore not feasible!!! Since when did the UK VAC become a financial advice center? And is it not customary for people to save money for vacations? I've heard people give interviews on TV and say stuff like "I always wanted to visit Australia, so I've been saving up for the trip", or something along those lines. The lady has since decided to take a trip within Nigeria for her vacation, somewhere down south.

Now, when a man who was previously dirt poor becomes a Senator or Honorable, decides to take a trip to the UK and submits personal bank statements in support of his application, you'll never hear questions like "origin of funds?" or any other bull shit. They don't want to know whether he had N20,000 in his account a few days ago, and a sudden deposit of N200 million two days to his Application would not be considered "suspiciously close". Fuck no. The Visa would be granted with immediate alacrity so he can go shopping on Bond Street for fine new suits, and spend some of our hard earned currency in their land. Indeed, they'll probably give him directions to the most expensive shops. For such people the normal rules of rejection do not apply.

I say these people are extremely lucky they do not provide these shabby services to people who have short fuses, and I don't believe they would dare run such an ovbious scam even in Ghana!

But this is Nigeria, no? The land where anything goes, and usually does.

Dear Chxta,

I know you care a great deal about this fucked up country we call home, and you always have good ideas about what we can do to fix it, but the sad truth of the matter is that things will never improve unless certain persons are sent swimming to the bottom of the ocean. And, sadly, that looks like it ain't never gonna happen.

One prominent businessman, who had his fingers in the attempt to steal Nigeria's refineries, and has over 1000 trailers, would never allow the rail system to work as that would end his business. And, seeing as the said Dangot... *sorry* businessman is heavy into the government, I don't see how he, for one, would allow the improvement of the railway system. Hell, enter Abuja. Their idea of mass transit is to buy hundreds of buses. And they call Abuja a "modern city". I'll bet they always say that tongue in cheek. For, what modern city in the world doesn't have a viable and working inner city rail system? The traffic jams are growing as more and more people pour into Abuja in search of the golden fleece, and the roads are beginning to choke up. I guess the consolation is that every weekend, Abuja becomes a ghost town.

Our Igbo brothers, who have considerable interests in the luxurious bus transport business, vowed never to allow the government construct an airport at Onitsha, and the airport has truly never been built. Never mind that doing so would drastically reduce the number of senseless deaths caused by accidents, armed robberies, etc. on the east-west highway axis. My sole trip to Onitsha to date left a lasting impression on me. It was late evening, and myself, my elder brother and our dad were passing through Onitsha on our way to Port Harcourt. And what did my young and impressionable eyes see? Huge buildings on either side of a road that was no more than a dirt track. A rain-hammered dirt track. The ride through town was a rollercoaster of highs great enough to see glittering jeeps in compounds, and lows deep enough to invoke impressions of Hades. A slalom of lefts and rights, with a bit of freestyle swimming thrown in. If the French hadn't engineered the Peugeot 504 to be the meanest road machine ever built, we'd never have made it out. I wondered how people could live like that and came to the realisation that the jeeps were for the road. So, it was a case of "Nna, if you can't buy ya own jip, go an fix de road." So how, then, could this me-first mentality allow anything that would help others?

Our generator importers have vowed never to allow NEPA/PHCN work as that would end the generator business. In Abuja, the nation's capital, virtually every single traffic warden's box has been donated by a generator company, in demonstration of their prosperity. Naturally, they feel like they're giving back to the community. Never mind that the community would be better off without them. No doubt, closer inspection will show that the people behind these companies are some of the big shots in Naija.

So, therefore, my good man, how the hell is anything in this country supposed to work? How can we fix Nigeria?

Well, we could ask Ghana to borrow us Jerry Rawlings, for starters...

Policy

There are those who say that a law, once made by the appropriate authority, is meant to be obeyed strictly. As a result, military decrees, edicts and what not, however odious, must be obeyed. Therefore, no matter how draconian, senseless, or downright stupid a law is, once it has been passed by whoever has the authority to make laws, it must be obeyed. For these people, the edicts of Adolf Hitler had as much legality as Acts of the British Parliament, and therefore, persons who murdered, raped, and plundered under these laws had committed no crime. So the wholesale slaughter of Jews and Russians was, in fact, legal.

A friend of mine recently expressed the view that if something is state policy, he had no choice but to obey. So, I asked him, “What if ‘state policy’ said you should kill your father?”
“That’s too personal,” was his reply. “Make it generic.”
“Ok. If state policy said ‘slap any woman seen on the street’, or ‘get a gun and kill anyone you see smiling’ would you?”
“I’d do it because it is state policy, and by acting under that policy, I have committed no crime.”

Needless to say, my jaw hit the floor with the speed of the Enterprise at Warp 12. I then reminded him that it is now established by law (he’s a lawyer by the way) that a soldier who follows an order he knows to be wrong cannot hide behind ‘orders are orders’, and this was established at the Nuremberg Trials of German War Criminals. He scoffed, and said that the Americans who organized the trials were just as guilty of war crimes for dropping nuclear bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and murdering millions of innocent Japanese citizens, but the people who gave those orders were being celebrated today. I couldn’t argue with that because I do in fact believe that the use of those nukes was as criminal as anything the Nazis did, so I told him, war crimes are war crimes, and the fact that no one was brought to trial for nuking Japan doesn’t make that act any less of one. It just so happened that, at the time, the Americans happened to hold the whip hand, and naturally, wouldn’t put themselves on trial.

Others, however, say that on certain occasions, it would be legal to disobey a certain law, if it is in fact odious. It is such men of courage who gave the rest of us hope during the dark years of military dictatorship. That was the time we had activists on our judiciary who looked for any and all means to avoid throwing in the towel to decrees. It is such men who were responsible for ordering Gani Fawehinmi’s release from prison. Gani had been jailed under a military decree, which also ousted the jurisdiction of any court to hear any case brought under it. Gani then decided to seek his freedom by reminding the court of the international obligations of the government with regard to the African Charter on Human Rights, and he was freed. The government’s lawyers argued that Nigerian law should prevail, but the judges refused, stating that it was well known in international law that no state could plead internal policies as a valid ground for failing to observe its internationally recognized and accepted obligations.

For my friend, perhaps those judges were in error, for it was indeed state policy that you could be locked up for no reason, and the courts couldn’t do a damn thing about it because the state policy in question said it couldn’t be questioned by any court. Therefore, any court which looked for means to question the law was in violation of the state policy, and was therefore wrong.

And all this came about because of a trip to the cinema. He informed me that a young boy was told he couldn’t watch Die Hard 4 because he wasn’t accompanied by an ‘adult male’. I asked if an adult female was present, and he said yes, but it would take a man to explain things about war to the lad, hence the policy. I told him that was a lawsuit waiting to happen, and he said no one would challenge it because:

a) This wasn’t America.
b) It was ‘policy’.

If the policy said the boy (a teenager, by the way) must be accompanied by an adult, I’d have no problem, but for them to specify that in order to watch an action movie, he must be accompanied by an adult male, is way beyond dumb. In fact, I’d venture to say that it zips past dumb, hammers its way through colossally stupid, and zooms into the George W. Bush Exclusive Preserve Of Idiocy without so much as a tap on the brakes. But, my friend was not to be swayed. He asked what women knew of war and fighting, and how a woman could be expected to explain to the lad that what he was seeing was not real?! I wondered if he was therefore trying to say women were either too stupid to understand the concept of CGI (admittedly complex) or the far simpler concept of acting, but I didn’t point this out. And, given the fact that my friend is not given to the consumption of kparaga of any kind, cheap or otherwise, or any other consciousness altering substances, I was truly at a loss to explain his reasoning.

Perhaps next time the lad wishes to see a romantic movie (of the PG-13 variety, of course) he’ll require an adult female to explain the concepts of romance and love, an area where adult males lag (admittedly) dreadfully far behind their female counterparts.

Gofment Of Nasional Unity

It is no longer news that President Yar'adua has been reaching out to his erstwhile opponents in a bid to mend fences, and create what he called a Government of National Unity.
However, his approach leaves a lot to be desired. He's been extending the proverbial olive branch to people who would sell their grandmothers, their right arms, and their left testicles for an olive leaf. This is Nigeria for crying out loud. Politicians jumping ship is as certain as the sun rising in the morning. If I were in his shoes, I'd offer each scumbag the same thing - my natural black ass, and a bridge to jump off. But, like I said, he appears to be a decent sort. Bah. I fear he wont be any fun, unlike the greatest President Nigeria ever had. You guessed it folks - Baba. When my favourite general was in charge, he mowed down his opponents. He captured elections. Opponents simply shut the hell up and ran for the fookin' hills. He gave me stuff to write about. Not Umoru. Under this limp noodle, we may actually have elections in which votes count! What about Baba's legacy? Why does Umoru appear so determined to bite the hand that fed him until a few short weeks ago?

Umoru has even imported his peculiar brand of politics into the world's greatest party, the PDP. It is known that Baba wanted Chief Onikeke to be the new head honcho of the party, while Mr. Fix-It has been rooting for the treacherous Ken Nnamani, who was instrumental in frustrating the desires of teeming masses of Nigerians that Baba be allowed to continue beyond May 29, 2007, and thereby consolidate on the giant strides the nation took under his capable leadership. Nnamani, perhaps out jealousy or spite, chose to deny Nigerians their wish, and Baba was forced to quit the post he loved so much. Anyway, faced with this clear choice on what he should do, Umoru nominates Chief Onikeke for a ministerial post, thereby removing him from the running, and frustrating Baba's grand design. I fear there are dark days ahead for our former president. Indeed, being trapped in an infernal Lagos traffic jam for more than 3 hours may have only been the begining. Don't worry Baba, I am here for you, if you need a siren to clear the traffic out of your way, all I require is some Guinness Extra Smooth to lubricate my vocal cords. I can guarantee you'll only spend 2 hours 59 minutes in future hold-ups.

Now that you've all had your fun, down to more serious matters. The nomination of Maduekwe does indeed toss him out of the running for PDP Chairman, a post currently filled by Alli-must-go. As for the others, I am yet to lay eyes on the full list, but I have it on good authority that Baba's wishes in regard to the nominees have not been complied with.

This goes to show that Umaru may yet prove to be the Best Idea Baba ever had. And the most paniful to him personally. Who says there's no justice eh?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!