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In 1989, a story spread like wildfire around Nigeria. The gist was that the wife of the then Head of State, Mrs. Maryam Babangida had deposited large sums of money in some banks in the United Kingdom and Switzerland. The effects of the story were both immediate, and understandable given that at that point in time the country was in the throes of a major recession that was caused by the IMF recommended Structural Adjustment Programme. At that point in time, the Naira was in free fall. The standard of living was plummeting, maybe even faster than the Naira. Nigerians who in the 1970s and the early 1980s had been used to living like kings suddenly found themselves paupers, and saving for the future was looked upon at the time as an exercise in stupidity.
Overnight on the campuses of the nation's universities, students met and decided to protest. Cult leaders who even back then were feuding, embraced each other, dropped their weapons, and swore an oath of brotherhood. The cry was 'Babangida must go.' I remember that period very well as my dad banned us from even leaving the house. The riots were nationwide, and became known as the anti-SAP riots. People who didn't fly green leaves in solidarity with the rioters were attacked, shops were looted. In Benin, Oko Prison was attacked and prisoners, amongst them some really hardened criminals, were set free, some never to be recaptured. The riots festered intermittently for about two months (May and June) before the government of the day reacted with the decisiveness, violence and brutality that only a military government is capable of. Soldiers were deployed to put down the disturbances, and people got shot.
Officially, about 500 people died, but being Naija, the number was probably a lot more. For me, that is academic. The evils of a military regime are too well known, so I find it impossible to believe when I hear that calls are beginning to emerge for the military to return to the political stage. Do we have such short memories?
Two lessons that can be drawn from the events of 1989 are as follows: first, the riots were terribly misdirected, the rioters didn't attack the government, but their fellow citizens. As is usual with a lot of Nigerian protests, there was a general lack of direction, and after the initial gra-gra, the whole thing lost focus. Second, the riots were caused by a story that no one bothered to authenticate. Granted that the Babangida government looted the Nigerian treasury on a scale never before, or never since seen. Up until today, most of those monies can't be traced. But at the end of the day, those rumours were just that, rumours. People died because of the rumours.
Fast forward five years to July 6, 1994. This is one that has stuck in my memory because I was involved. The day before, Italy had beaten Nigeria in the second round of the USA 94 World Cup. That day (6/7), a rumour spread like wild fire around Benin. The story was that seven of the Italian players had tested positive for drugs, and that FIFA had disqualified Italy from the tournament, Nigeria was to play on. A lot of people took to the streets to celebrate without bothering once again, to verify the story. Of course when the truth emerged, we were left in a worse state of depression than we had been when Nigeria was actually knocked out. That incident made me promise myself that as much as possible, I would try and verify a story before giving in to reactions.
This resolve was put to the test eleven years later, on October 8, 2005. The event was another football match, this time Nigeria versus Zimbabwe at the National Stadium in Abuja. As we all know, Nigeria needed to win, with Angola failing to win as well in Kigali, Rwanda. Any other combination would result in our being eliminated from the World Cup race. In the middle of the second half, with the Eagles fulfilling our part of the bargain and pummelling the hapless Zimbabweans, celebrations began in the stadium as word spread that Rwanda had taken the lead against Angola, a story which if true meant that Nigeria would be in the World Cup. With my sense of caution, and above the din, I made two calls. The first was to my father, and the second was to Oria, both in Benin, both who had opted to watch the Angola match because both felt that it had more of a bearing to our qualification. Both told me that it was still goalless, and I told some of the guys around me. These guys actually got angry and threatened me with bodily harm for bringing bad news to them, so when Oria called a few minutes later to tell me that Angola had scored, and that Nigeria was out of the World Cup, I quietly made my way out. The other people were still 'celebrating' our qualification as at when I reached the outside of the main bowl, but then the real story gradually began making its way through, and euphoria gave way to anguish. My people had once again been the victims of failure to verify information before acting on it.
Earlier today, news spread like wildfire that Mr. Umar Yar'Adua, presidential candidate Peoples Democratic Party had died. What saddened me was that one of the more reputable media outlets Business Day, jumped on the bandwagon. Some of the less reputable 'sources' of home news (Elendu Reports and Times of Nigeria) quoted unnamed, 'reliable' sources. And some people began to celebrate (CyberEagles and NaijaRyders). Lo and behold, those of us who chose to take the story with the proverbial pinch of salt given that the 'sources' left a lot to be desired, were rewarded for our patience when the BBC interviewed the 'dead' man.
For me, there are so many things that are deeply depressing about this incident, but the most important thing is the apparent willingness of even supposedly enlightened and educated Nigerians to become tools in the hands of selfish interests. How else can one explain comments such as, 'My God is one. He told me in a dream that Yar'Adua will never be president. Thank God he is dead.'
What kind of prayer is that? What kind of God is that character serving? The person who made that statement is a Nigerian who has been based in the United States for a while now. I wonder what kind of behaviour he displays for the good people of 'God's own country'. It is scary. This whole incident tells me that a serious conflict can be sparked off in Naija by a whim!
At the end of it all, my sympathy is with Umaru Yar'Adua. This is a man who is to all intents and purposes a good man surrounded by wolves. Here is someone whose hope for the next eight years of his life was to retire back to his classroom and enlighten younger minds. He has now been thrust, rather unwillingly, onto the larger scale politics of Nigeria where what you have at the best of times is a war of attrition. Can he survive the next eight years? Listening to him talking to his interviewer on the BBC Hausa service, I get the feeling that the man is a determined character who has finally realised the enormity of what he is facing. He will either not make it to election day alive, or he will end up giving all his detractors a huge finger. Anyway you look at it, Yar'Adua isn't finished just yet.
Overnight on the campuses of the nation's universities, students met and decided to protest. Cult leaders who even back then were feuding, embraced each other, dropped their weapons, and swore an oath of brotherhood. The cry was 'Babangida must go.' I remember that period very well as my dad banned us from even leaving the house. The riots were nationwide, and became known as the anti-SAP riots. People who didn't fly green leaves in solidarity with the rioters were attacked, shops were looted. In Benin, Oko Prison was attacked and prisoners, amongst them some really hardened criminals, were set free, some never to be recaptured. The riots festered intermittently for about two months (May and June) before the government of the day reacted with the decisiveness, violence and brutality that only a military government is capable of. Soldiers were deployed to put down the disturbances, and people got shot.
Officially, about 500 people died, but being Naija, the number was probably a lot more. For me, that is academic. The evils of a military regime are too well known, so I find it impossible to believe when I hear that calls are beginning to emerge for the military to return to the political stage. Do we have such short memories?
Two lessons that can be drawn from the events of 1989 are as follows: first, the riots were terribly misdirected, the rioters didn't attack the government, but their fellow citizens. As is usual with a lot of Nigerian protests, there was a general lack of direction, and after the initial gra-gra, the whole thing lost focus. Second, the riots were caused by a story that no one bothered to authenticate. Granted that the Babangida government looted the Nigerian treasury on a scale never before, or never since seen. Up until today, most of those monies can't be traced. But at the end of the day, those rumours were just that, rumours. People died because of the rumours.
Fast forward five years to July 6, 1994. This is one that has stuck in my memory because I was involved. The day before, Italy had beaten Nigeria in the second round of the USA 94 World Cup. That day (6/7), a rumour spread like wild fire around Benin. The story was that seven of the Italian players had tested positive for drugs, and that FIFA had disqualified Italy from the tournament, Nigeria was to play on. A lot of people took to the streets to celebrate without bothering once again, to verify the story. Of course when the truth emerged, we were left in a worse state of depression than we had been when Nigeria was actually knocked out. That incident made me promise myself that as much as possible, I would try and verify a story before giving in to reactions.
This resolve was put to the test eleven years later, on October 8, 2005. The event was another football match, this time Nigeria versus Zimbabwe at the National Stadium in Abuja. As we all know, Nigeria needed to win, with Angola failing to win as well in Kigali, Rwanda. Any other combination would result in our being eliminated from the World Cup race. In the middle of the second half, with the Eagles fulfilling our part of the bargain and pummelling the hapless Zimbabweans, celebrations began in the stadium as word spread that Rwanda had taken the lead against Angola, a story which if true meant that Nigeria would be in the World Cup. With my sense of caution, and above the din, I made two calls. The first was to my father, and the second was to Oria, both in Benin, both who had opted to watch the Angola match because both felt that it had more of a bearing to our qualification. Both told me that it was still goalless, and I told some of the guys around me. These guys actually got angry and threatened me with bodily harm for bringing bad news to them, so when Oria called a few minutes later to tell me that Angola had scored, and that Nigeria was out of the World Cup, I quietly made my way out. The other people were still 'celebrating' our qualification as at when I reached the outside of the main bowl, but then the real story gradually began making its way through, and euphoria gave way to anguish. My people had once again been the victims of failure to verify information before acting on it.
Earlier today, news spread like wildfire that Mr. Umar Yar'Adua, presidential candidate Peoples Democratic Party had died. What saddened me was that one of the more reputable media outlets Business Day, jumped on the bandwagon. Some of the less reputable 'sources' of home news (Elendu Reports and Times of Nigeria) quoted unnamed, 'reliable' sources. And some people began to celebrate (CyberEagles and NaijaRyders). Lo and behold, those of us who chose to take the story with the proverbial pinch of salt given that the 'sources' left a lot to be desired, were rewarded for our patience when the BBC interviewed the 'dead' man.
For me, there are so many things that are deeply depressing about this incident, but the most important thing is the apparent willingness of even supposedly enlightened and educated Nigerians to become tools in the hands of selfish interests. How else can one explain comments such as, 'My God is one. He told me in a dream that Yar'Adua will never be president. Thank God he is dead.'
What kind of prayer is that? What kind of God is that character serving? The person who made that statement is a Nigerian who has been based in the United States for a while now. I wonder what kind of behaviour he displays for the good people of 'God's own country'. It is scary. This whole incident tells me that a serious conflict can be sparked off in Naija by a whim!
At the end of it all, my sympathy is with Umaru Yar'Adua. This is a man who is to all intents and purposes a good man surrounded by wolves. Here is someone whose hope for the next eight years of his life was to retire back to his classroom and enlighten younger minds. He has now been thrust, rather unwillingly, onto the larger scale politics of Nigeria where what you have at the best of times is a war of attrition. Can he survive the next eight years? Listening to him talking to his interviewer on the BBC Hausa service, I get the feeling that the man is a determined character who has finally realised the enormity of what he is facing. He will either not make it to election day alive, or he will end up giving all his detractors a huge finger. Anyway you look at it, Yar'Adua isn't finished just yet.
In case any one of y'all has an upcoming divorce, it is easy to settle it...
http://edition.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/europe/03/09/germany.divorce.reut/
http://edition.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/europe/03/09/germany.divorce.reut/
Jesus definitely knew what he was talking about when he made that statement during the Sermon on the mount. A lot of sins are committed not necessarily because the sinner wants to do it, but because conditions made him do it. I almost committed a major sin Friday night because temptation was placed in my path...
There is this undergraduate girl in my school, East African, and very pretty. A lot of guys would look at her and begin to salivate, but for some reason she seems to have the hots for me. Let us call her N. It all started back in September, I was in the library that day and herself and another friend were in the seat beside me talking and making noise. Finally I couldn't take it anymore, so I turned to them and asked them to bottle it. The other girl pouted at me and looked to resume the conversation, but N kept quiet, and seemed suitably chastened. When I left the library, she came after me to apologise, an apology which I accepted.
About two weeks later, in the library as well, she came to ask for my help in an assignment. It so happens that the course she's studying is related to mine, and considering that she's in her second year, I helped her. After that, she became a regular fixture in or around my preferred location in the library. As time went on, we began to talk, nothing serious (I thought), just talk made by two people who sometimes read together. I told her about U (besides, U's picture's the wallpaper on my phone) and she told me about her own boyfriend, some guy from her country, who like her came over to the UK when he was little. All was well, until they broke up in January. She was devastated, and I think she was lucky that the break up happened just after the exams, or else it would be a different story.
Unfortunately, she seemed to have zeroed in on me as a candidate to fix her broken heart. She began to call me at odd times, and became a bit more than just 'affectionate'. I warned her off on Valentine's Day when she suggested that we go and make out (her exact words). I told her point blank: 'I have a girl back home whom I am going to marry. Let's not start what would lead to trouble'. She seemed to take it in her stride, and offered her apologies, and things cooled a little. I was relieved.
On Wednesday just passed, she met me in the library and informed me that there was a dinner happening on Friday, then asked if I'd accompany her. She then made it clear that she'd already paid for both of us, so I accepted. Come Friday, and we went for dinner. Firstly, it wasn't dinner, it was a pub. She bought drinks, we began to talk, and she began to tell me of how much she loves me and all that. I tried to make her back off, then tried to let her know that having just come out of a relationship which she put her all into, that it is more than likely that I am just an avenue for her to mend a broken heart. I let her know that I would know since I'm a lot more experienced than she is in such matters (I'm eight years older than she is)...
At that point, she seemed to accept, then asked for a dance. Foolishly, I accepted. On the dance floor, things began to happen. She would use her hands to rub on my nether regions, and in the same way, take mine to hers, and my resolve began to ebb away very fast. She then suggested that after the 'date' we go to her place for a nightcap.
In all honesty, I was about to say yes, then my phone rang. It was in my front pocket, so we both felt the vibration. Considering that the pub was noisy, I had no choice but to go outside and take the call. That move outside brought me back to my senses, because I finished with the call, returned to the pub and told a lie. I told N, that my flatmate had locked herself outside, and needed me to come open the door, then I ran off. She's called me at least thrice since then, and I haven't picked the phone. I am not going anywhere near the library this week. I feel ashamed that I almost broke my vow of fidelity to U, and was saved by a phone call. There is no justification, and on reflection, I know that the only way to avoid breaking that vow is simply by avoiding the occasions that would tempt me. All I can say is this: God help me.
There is this undergraduate girl in my school, East African, and very pretty. A lot of guys would look at her and begin to salivate, but for some reason she seems to have the hots for me. Let us call her N. It all started back in September, I was in the library that day and herself and another friend were in the seat beside me talking and making noise. Finally I couldn't take it anymore, so I turned to them and asked them to bottle it. The other girl pouted at me and looked to resume the conversation, but N kept quiet, and seemed suitably chastened. When I left the library, she came after me to apologise, an apology which I accepted.
About two weeks later, in the library as well, she came to ask for my help in an assignment. It so happens that the course she's studying is related to mine, and considering that she's in her second year, I helped her. After that, she became a regular fixture in or around my preferred location in the library. As time went on, we began to talk, nothing serious (I thought), just talk made by two people who sometimes read together. I told her about U (besides, U's picture's the wallpaper on my phone) and she told me about her own boyfriend, some guy from her country, who like her came over to the UK when he was little. All was well, until they broke up in January. She was devastated, and I think she was lucky that the break up happened just after the exams, or else it would be a different story.
Unfortunately, she seemed to have zeroed in on me as a candidate to fix her broken heart. She began to call me at odd times, and became a bit more than just 'affectionate'. I warned her off on Valentine's Day when she suggested that we go and make out (her exact words). I told her point blank: 'I have a girl back home whom I am going to marry. Let's not start what would lead to trouble'. She seemed to take it in her stride, and offered her apologies, and things cooled a little. I was relieved.
On Wednesday just passed, she met me in the library and informed me that there was a dinner happening on Friday, then asked if I'd accompany her. She then made it clear that she'd already paid for both of us, so I accepted. Come Friday, and we went for dinner. Firstly, it wasn't dinner, it was a pub. She bought drinks, we began to talk, and she began to tell me of how much she loves me and all that. I tried to make her back off, then tried to let her know that having just come out of a relationship which she put her all into, that it is more than likely that I am just an avenue for her to mend a broken heart. I let her know that I would know since I'm a lot more experienced than she is in such matters (I'm eight years older than she is)...
At that point, she seemed to accept, then asked for a dance. Foolishly, I accepted. On the dance floor, things began to happen. She would use her hands to rub on my nether regions, and in the same way, take mine to hers, and my resolve began to ebb away very fast. She then suggested that after the 'date' we go to her place for a nightcap.
In all honesty, I was about to say yes, then my phone rang. It was in my front pocket, so we both felt the vibration. Considering that the pub was noisy, I had no choice but to go outside and take the call. That move outside brought me back to my senses, because I finished with the call, returned to the pub and told a lie. I told N, that my flatmate had locked herself outside, and needed me to come open the door, then I ran off. She's called me at least thrice since then, and I haven't picked the phone. I am not going anywhere near the library this week. I feel ashamed that I almost broke my vow of fidelity to U, and was saved by a phone call. There is no justification, and on reflection, I know that the only way to avoid breaking that vow is simply by avoiding the occasions that would tempt me. All I can say is this: God help me.
