...not mine

I am the one
who you seek in your soul
but can't find
I am the one
who knocks on the
invisible door of your heart.
You desire,require;inquire about.
I am the one
who sums up your daily travails
warms up your bed
sucks ur pain
I am the one
who you blame;shame
who you cry on his shoulder...
I am the one
who you call;
I'm all yours...
not mine.

Open Letter To The First Lady by Sultana

Open Letter To The First Lady
March 14, 2011 @ 8:21 am ›
Sultana
Auntie Patience,
Good mornin’, ma. I know say
you no sabi me. My name na
Osemhen, and I get one business
wey I wan make we discuss. D
tin consan the campaign wey
you dey helep our Presido, Uncle
Jo and all im ‘umblerra’ friends
do.
Auntie, you try. Even though you
no too sabi English, you dey
make effort. You dey try relate
wit your pipul, try console dem.
But dem be ingrate! You know
say for dis we kontri, pipul plenty
wey get bad mouth. Na so dem
go sidon, dey laff wetin you talk
wen you give speech. Instead
make dem understand the
message wey you get for mind,
dem go dey find mistake for the
English. Dem laff wen you talk say
Uncle Jo and Bros. Namadi “is
good people.” Even say the
English no beta, shey dem no
sabi say you been wan say Uncle
Jo and Bros. Namadi na beta
person? Which one kan hard for
dere? Abi, na the one wen you
talk say “the people sitting
before you here were once a
children ” ? Shey dat one no mean
say everybodi, one time or
another, be pikin? Why dem kan
dey laff you?
Auntie, no mind dem. Na bad
bele dey worry dem. Dem say you
no sabi spik English. Na English
be your papa language? Queen
of England sabi spik Ijaw?
Michelle Obama sabi Ijaw? Abegi!
No answer dem! Me, I be correct
person. I sabi say you dey try.
You wan helep Uncle Jo win
presido. I wan helep you helep
am. I get three options for you
so.
One, I go helep you write your
speech in perfect English. Dat ’s
right. Me, I go school so I sabi
this English well well. I go write
the speech give you. You go read
am, practice am for mirror, carry
am for head.
Two, If the English pass your
power, I go write am for pidgin.
Everybodi for dis we kontri, sabi
pidgin. Dem go understand
wetin you talk. In fact, d tin be
say, if you spik English too much,
all dose market women dem and
workman no go sabi. So, pidgin
all the way. Wen Uncle Jo enter
power, we go make Pidgin
(South-South style) official
language for dis kontri.
Three, If that one pass your
power too, I go carry my friend
wey be Ijaw. We go sidon
translate am from English reach
Ijaw. Then when you dey give
speech, the English one go dey
scroll for big screen wey go dey
your back. Or you fit do like dose
Pastors dem, you talk one for
Ijaw, person go stand with you
talk am for English. The tin no
make sense?
Make I know whether you like
this idea. My money no go too
cost. We go discuss dat one wen
we see. Thank you, Auntie. Greet
Uncle Jo.
Your Pikin, Osemhen
p.s. Please share this with as
many people, you never know
who might have a direct link to
her I just might get the job! I
promise I’ll share the salary!
Culled from http://eurekanaija.wordpress.com

Queue

I followed a friend to the park as he’s going back to the north for his national service year. As they queued to buy bus ticket I can’t but wonder how our lives are full of queues.

A man’s attempt to get a wife is paused by several toll gates. He asks her out and waits for days to get a response. He tries to beat queue with several surprises. Trying so much to surpass other suitors and when he finally gets her to himself, he believes the queue is over.

After marriage, he fires shots! Many don’t make it to the post; still he keeps up the good job till the target is met. So now the wife is pregnant, the real queuing had just started at the clinics. She queues from one birth process to the other, starting from the gate post. Yes the gate post! The driver of the car before hers had decided to have a chit chat with the gateman. Since tipping is going to be involved; the world could wait, who cares? Parking space is the next queue spot. Queuing just had to be very important.

She gives birth to this bouncing baby who is welcomed by queues. So many people want to see; some wants to hold, some just peep at Baby. They take turns, they pile gifts; they watch him grow with the mother. They back him on queues. So he grows in years and pre-school had to be his first real encounter of ‘lining up’.

As he grows in age and moves from class to class, the lining up becomes very boring. Running errands informs him of the menace of queue. His rounds at the filling stations give him first hand lessons in queue jumping. He finishes secondary school; sat for many jambs waiting for the one admission, queuing up for his turn. It turns spiritual!

He eventually gets admitted and the long queue will not vanish. First year registration process can be killing, many gets sick. He breaks through all the varsity troubles, shedding off the departmental waits. Filling NYSC mobilization form took a full day; orientation camp registration couldn’t do less. From camp to clearance, CDS, etc the queues remain.

When he is finally free from the shackles of NYSC, labour market queue has no ending like the bottomless pit. He toils from one interview to another; queuing up. He wants to despair but how dare he? After all, he is not the only one living this life; even his parents had their fair share of the queuing life. He braces up; knowing there are many more queues ahead of him.

This circle of queuing is our life. Put a man in a small position and he will bring in queue. Don’t we just love it? And I perceive a queue in hell; don’t be surprised if it gets to heaven.

losing me

Pitch black covers the lid

I’m sitting in peaceful disturbance

away with cloth; away with thoughts

away with thrive

sweaty wandering soul draped in its shadow

looking faraway from tomorrow

away with fate; away with faces

gallivanting the dark planets; no sorrow

for the food-less night; no pain

trod on thrones, stones, bones

each step, euphoric state of celestial ecstasy

away with will; away with me

away with earth

lost on a dark cloudy night.

Nigeria, what is it?

Nigeria had called for us to obey; a call to vote. Voting is supposed to allow us elect the person of our choice so voters’ registration had been the password. Since voters’ registration is the key to voting, the exercise had to be paid special attention. With the changing of the INEC chairman, involvement of Corpers and use of electronic devices for registration; a change for good is been expected. But as the exercise began, it looks as if it was set up to fail just like every other thing in this country.
Can’t we just make anything work in this country? Seems we are allergic to doing the right things to get good result. Or is the problem with the name Nigeria? Ordinary electronic registration had become herculean task. The ordeals at the registration centres are just ridiculous. The DDC machine just love to feature on pages of paper; starting with when it was stolen and now, every newspaper must have something to say about it.
INEC and NYSC had set Corpers up for ridicule. They dispatch them about without providing adequately for activities they are to carry out. All that Jega cares about is they doing the registration. I wonder who Jega expect to provide table and chair for the Corpers or are they to sit on the floor? No security whatsoever! “What has the country done for these youths to earn their loyalty” someone asked in an interview.
Many would have thought it is the Corpers that are totally defective before hearing it happens in every other place. I seriously pity the Corpers as they battle the terrible machines and the temper of the citizens. Corpers had been caught up by a system set up to destroy them. This is more so because this is not the first time people are encountering electronic registration and it was hitch-free even without necessarily educated personnel involved.
Didn’t MTN, GLO, AIRTEL and t`he likes did SIM registration without a complaint from any quarters? They didn’t have to use CORPERS or some high level of educated personnel. Similar but better equipments were used to achieve this. Why do Nigeria have to make this registration seems like an experiment in Quantum Physics? Can’t INEC learn from the SIM registration exercise and give contract to competent people?
When I got to the centre, the first thing that disgusted me was how scattered about the equipments were. Watching them set up, my mind drifted to the compacted equipment set used for SIM registration. The so called laptop used for INEC registration switches off every 3 minutes and this is not due to battery problem. I wonder who was given this contract. I wouldn’t have known Haier produces laptop; thanks to INEC. Now they go about saying people should wash their hands to help the thumb scanner perform; what a joke! I sense people would have started some superstitions already.
If the SIM registration which covers far more population could be done seemingly effortlessly, I see no reason why this INEC registration couldn’t be done with minimal headaches. To get 50% registered within two weeks would be a miracle at this rate. If this is what we get after the extension of time, I wonder what would have happened if there hadn’t been an extension.
It’s surely headline season for DDC machine and the registration entirely. The drama series: DDC MACHINE FAULTS JEGA. JEGA BLAMES IT ON ILLITERATE CORPERS. CORPERS TURN TO MANICURING. TESTIMONY OF A CORPER TURN MANICURIST. Isn’t enough time for planning given already? Or was it been under funded? I doubt! Nigeria, what is it?

you bomber

Dear bomber,
Let’s both pretend you are fighting for a justifiable course. Let’s say I didn’t call you dear because I’m afraid of you. Let’s agree our leaders are corrupt bastards and allegiance to the country isn’t worth it anymore. Would we say the masses lives be a pawn on the chess board?
Accuracy and sensibility will be advised! Letting money lose through your activity in places like the CBN at night would delight masses as they pack their share of raining money in the rubbles. If you can’t solve our problems just let us be. The last time I checked none of the corrupt bastards had been a casualty of the bombings. Who then is your primary target?
I dare not suggest to you but you might want to consider the anguish caused by the explosions. You had just become one of those you have been condemning; CALLOUS! Now I’ll hush before I court trouble.
Thanks, don’t bother reply please!!!!

..aint poetry

If I’m saying
two same different things
it aint figurative, not near literature.
It’s me feeling stupidly uncanny:
the mind ‘poli-tricks’ it’s intelligence;
making you see sense in me,
like my sixth sense is keen.
This aint poetry, it is me
feeling crazy wild mind craze.
Spitting out the words
before they erase.
My mind be so clouded
it hazes to a daze.
This aint some whistle blown by wiki
this is me feeling slickly.