Richard Aisubeogun

There is clear mismanagement, fraud and abuse of due process in the way Nigeria’s aviation agency is run

Naija Stories: Of Tears and Kisses, Heroes and Villains edited by Myne Whitman is a collection of thirty short stories by Nigerians about life in Nigeria except for one story, which plays in the Nigerian Diaspora. Apart from this shared element, the stories are very diverse.

Many, many topics

Two stories touched me the most. The first one is narrated from the perspective of a little girl. She herself does not really understand what is happening. However she knows that what daddy is doing to her is wrong. At the same time she remembers her teacher saying that “Daddies should always be obeyed”. What that teacher should have told her instead is that it’s ok to say no. In the end the girl blames herself, just as society often blames adult victims of rape for provoking the perpetrator. The second story is almost like a continuation, only that it is now a different daughter and a different father who doesn’t respect her rights. This time a father wants to marry off his daughter, who is still in primary school, to pay for his debts. The saddest bit about these two stories is that they are not just stories but reality for way too many children.

Many other stories also address very serious issues. One of these issues is the struggle of the people living in the Delta area, who suffer from pollution from oil refineries while the derived wealth does not benefit the majority of them. Other stories give a glance at the belief in divination, witchcraft and prophetic dreams, which can cause grave harm. E.g. a couple and their child are killed because a diviner declares that the unborn baby is an abomination. Though it is definitely true that some traditional believes must be condemned, this is also true for certain Christian practices. That’s why I am missing stories that are critical of Christianity on one hand and others that show positive aspects of the indigenous religions on the other hand. One author portrays a woman’s dream of travelling to England and shows how some people including this character would do almost anything to be able to leave Nigeria. It would have been nice to read also about people who made it abroad and then realised that they have to face many hardships that nobody had told them about before leaving. Another story stresses the importance of looking after your health, while yet another touches abortion. Many stories deal with the death of loved ones. Some of them die through violence, which shows that there is still a lot to do until Nigeria will be relatively safe from armed robbers and bomb attacks. Last but not least, several people die in car accidents. As roads and vehicles in Nigeria are usually in very poor condition, this danger cannot be overstressed.

Apart from the more serious topics as the ones mentioned above, there are also everyday stories. A girl makes a first attempt at cooking but, as every beginning is hard, something goes wrong. In a different story a young man works up the courage to approach the girl he fancies, while a day dreamer mistakes his fantasies for reality. A pupil, who is being bullied, has to confront his biggest enemy and another teenager resists group pressure and follows his conscience instead. These story show that in many regards Nigeria is like any other country, with people who live their lives and the problems that they face.

More about Nigeria

About 500 languages are spoken in Nigeria. Thus, while the language of this anthology is English, it is infused with words from and quoted speech in Nigerian Pidgin English, Yoruba, Igbo, Efik and possibly other languages. Somebody who never has been to Nigeria should understand all stories but might puzzle at a few words. There is oyinbo which usually refers to white people and foreigners but sometimes is also used for Nigerians living abroad; abi can be added to a statement in order to question its truthfulness; oga addresses a boss or an otherwise important person; oriki is a name that praises positive traits of a person or their family; while an abiku is a child that is believed to be born and re-born only to die again and again at a very young age.

Most non-English words and sentences, including the ones just mentioned, are Yoruba. There are a few other ones, such as obodo, which in Igbo mean country, and amebo, an Efik word which is used to describe a person who likes to gossip. Most noticeably Hausa, which together with Yoruba and Igbo is one of the three largest languages of the country, seems to be completely absent (or at least so rare that I have not spotted a single word). The Nigerian languages represented appear to be a consequence of the ethnic background of the authors, which mostly bear Yoruba and Igbo names.

Just as in the case of the authors, the ethnicity of many characters can be deduced from their names. Moreover those names often reveal one or another detail about the circumstances of their birth. Hence we know that Taiwo is the first born of twins and Kehinde the second born. However, in opposition to the Western belief, Kehinde is regarded as the older of the two. She or he sends the junior sibling ahead to check out whether the world is good enough to be born into. As parents may be addressed by their children’s name, Kehinde and Taiwo’s parents are referred to by the author as Mama and Baba Ibeji, the parents of twins.

There are also some mentions of institutions that are particular to Nigeria. The National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) e.g. is a one-year-long service that is obligatory for all Nigerian graduates younger than 30. As part of their service they are sent to a region different from their own, which is supposed to foster unity. The service has been also criticised for exploiting these young people as cheap labour, putting them in danger and assigning them to jobs for which they are not qualified. Another presumably lowly paid job is that of the gate man. He is responsible for letting people and cars into compounds or entire neighbourhood and his presence is supposed to increase the security of the residents. Then there is MOPOL, which I had to look up myself and which stands for MObile POLice. Last but not least, the Nigerian currency is the Naira (N) and the sum of N 350,000 that is mentioned in one of the stories presently equals about $2,200 or £1,400. It should also be noted that the Liberation Army of the Niger Delta (LAND) is a fictive organisation modelled after the Movement for the Emancipation of the Niger Delta (MEND).

Laughter, tears and suspense

Now you might think that you are in for a very dry and boring read. However this is not the case. You probably will laugh out loudly, maybe even roll on the floor when reading about the clash between an upright mother and her unruly son. To her dismay, he turns up late at church with beer on his breath and, as the service carries, you can be sure that the son has ample chance to embarrass his mother again.

While reading other passages you should keep tissues close by. There is a grown-up daughter who remembers her late father by keeping a colouring book he meant to give to her shortly before he died. Another time two friends realise their feelings for each other. As they part ways due to life’s circumstances we are left with the sad impression that their love will not endure the distance unless they can keep it alive despite all odds. When, in a different story again, a mother dies and you realise that her son will never be able to make up with her, you might be reminded of a time when you yourself were wishing that you could turn back time and handle matters differently.

Suspense also does not come short in this anthology. You will wonder whether a young writer will be killed by members of a confraternity whom he had portrayed negatively in a newspaper article. You will fear for the life of teachers and students, when a school becomes the target of armed terrorists. Maybe you will hope for a rekindling of love between a man and his girlfriend who had been away to England for a long time. Or will you favour the new woman in his life?

Conclusion

I can only recommend this anthology. It contains fascinating stories about different aspects of life in Nigeria (and marginally in the Nigerian Diaspora as well). These stories offer entertainment, address important issues such as child abuse and teach us about a country that some readers might never have set foot on so far.

____________________________

Anja Choon is a PhD student in Field Linguistics at the School of Oriental and African Studies. She also works as a research assistant in the ICE Nigeria Project at the Westfälische Wilhems – Universität Münster. Currently she is looking forward to travelling to Nigeria for the tenth time.

In alignment with the unwavering efforts of the Nigerian government to mitigate human trafficking, corps members of the Anti-Trafficking in Persons community development (CD) group in Eti Osa 1 local government have organised a one-day discourse at the Kuramo Senior Secondary school in Victoria Island. Focusing on the subject of child trafficking in the event, the youths invited guest speakers from the National Agency for Prohibition of Trafficked Persons and other related matters (NAPTIP) to enlighten the young public about human trafficking. They also coordinated a debate themed “Should child trafficking be condoned even with the consent of the victim?” and moderated the contest between two secondary schools in the neighbourhood namely, Kuramo Senior College and Victoria Island Secondary School.

During her speech, the main speaker and Head of Public Enlightenment Unit (NAPTIP), Mrs Hajara Tunde-Osho explained that human trafficking does not hold if the use of force, deception and exploitation are not involved. As such, not everyone who has a domestic assistant or the colloquially known “houseboy or housegirl” is guilty of human trafficking. This aroused a sense of obvious shock in the minds of some members of the audience. As such, the listeners inferred that certain factors demarcate child trafficking from child labour. She further stated that human traffickers pick up children from villages and go to cities to distribute them as “househelps”, promising their families money in return for their innocent children. In a supporting address offered by another NAPTIP staff, Mr Samuel Okoroji of the Monitoring Unit, the audience were enlightened of the actual act of trafficking in persons. According to him, “If deception, coercion or exploitation is not involved, it is not human trafficking. A person’s consent and agreement to leave her own people or willingly emigrate from her country in order to work elsewhere nullifies the possibility of trafficking in persons. Therefore, unless the element of the immigrant’s expectation or terms of migration is being trampled on, one cannot say that a person has been trafficked.”

After the lectures and debate the judges compared their score sheets and announced the results of the arguments. According to the moderator, Victoria Island Secondary School won with 40 out a maximum of 50 possible points and trailing behind was Kuramo Senior College with a lag of 4 points. A member of the judging panel, corps member Midge, however commented on the debaters’ performances and advised that they utilise apposite facts, statistics, examples and citations whenever they are chanced to participate in similar debates. The ATP group through the guest speakers and select corps members then presented star prizes to the winning debaters (Mukoro Friday and Amor Godspower). Consolation prizes were also given to the runners-up (Chukwuemeka Chinelo and Ufoma Rita) while the representative staff of both participating schools, Miss Ruth Abanum of Victoria Island and Mr Surban Kuramo Senior College received the same kinds of gifts on behalf of their schools.

Ayo Morakinyo writes from Lagos. He blogs at www.moraks.blogspot.com.

So, I was one of the cyberspace moralists who put in word for Okeoghene Ighiwoto, the now famous Nigerian patient who has been ‘saved’. How might one begin thinking of this matter in a post-salvation mode, now that we feel good, sigh gratefully, relish our success? But, as we find, success is often an imagined word. And that fact applies no less here, now that we walk the uncertain terrains of morality, sentimentality, and virality. We hear that Okeoghene’s matter has been taken over by the Delta State government. This is a triumph, obviously. It is the kind of triumph that happens when a first goal is scored. One must not be happy enough.

It has become Government matter. Government matter reminds me of how macrosystems often overwhelm micro-systems, so that no matter how much we try, we are faced with the need for an institutional overhaul. We cannot speak of a working health system, for instance, without the signing into Law of the Health Bill. Without, what is more, the justiciability of socio-economic rights, such as the right to good health, which is not included in the Nigerian constitution as a fundamental right. How can the right to life mean anything without a corresponding right to good health? How can the death penalty suffice as punishment if living corresponds to dying (unfortunately, Nigeria remains resolute on state-killing)? We keep creating microsystems – cyber-campaigns, rallies, walks, talks – focused on advocating for and ensuring good health, but the macrosystems are frustrating us.

The dots are easy to connect. We are successful in a limited sense. And our limitations mean more people are dying from a broader insensitivity. Our sentimentalities are not forming adequate constellations; the challenge is that the missing pieces are not within our reach.

Or are they?

First, let me make a point about the nature in which we exhibited our #saveOke sentimentality. In thinking about this, I am continually allured to the similarities between the recent Kony-mania and Oke’s case. We find, as Saratu Abiola aptly put it on Twitter, that there is an unfair lottery system in these cases. The dices are juggled and someone comes into the picture. In a manner that the problem is conveniently simplified into a video (as with Kony 2012) or a BlackBerry Messenger display picture (as with #saveOke). This comparison does not in any way suppose that the aforementioned causes are fundamentally akin in outlook – I dedicated a previous essay to proving otherwise. But it does suppose that there shouldn’t be a singularity of narrative, that the plot does not resolve in an individual, whether or not it is the capture or salvation of that individual is the issue that is being viralized. This is the sense in which I argue that there is a very big problem, especially in our continent, with small miracles. And that’s the point from which we must begin our activism, right there where an individual’s salvation ends.

Necessarily, how do we conceive of the right to help? These are age-long debates, I know, but they are brought to the fore given the implications/complications of viral propagandas. The question is how do we help without having an outward, condescending gaze? Most people I knew, even myself, helped Okeoghene because they knew him, or knew someone who knew him. That help becomes, in itself, founded on a separate premise, one separate from the problem at hand. But it doesn’t suggest that there weren’t those who helped purely anonymously, finding no need for earlier ties, nor does it impede on the sincerity of those of us who felt he was one of us.

Yet I consider the right to help is often misplaced as self-aggrandizement, one which I term a selfish selflessness, one which seems a universal curse. This is why there would always be a white saviour industrial complex, and a filial saviour sentimental complex, because people will feel the need to help without seeing the need to investigate, to listen. Because people often listen to themselves when the cries of others reach them.

Is this a fundamental problem? Is this an impeding inevitability? I cannot say. It is well bigger than a this-that, yes-no, white-black. What’s important is that we find ways to negotiate this tendency to read others from individual glances. In my thinking it is a projecting of this complexity into an institutional frame that will, in the final analysis, save us. We must, while attempting to save one of us, seek the salvation that works for others as well.

A cut from a newspaper lay on the ground while I walked hours before I wrote this. It had the photograph of a girl (boy?) who needed six million naira to survive. And that was a day after I had made my #saveOke contribution. I thought to myself, oh geez, how many can be saved?

In attending to the unfair lottery system that attends these viral causes, I find that to always be guided by the sixth sense – that instantaneous compassion that overwhelmed us when we read of Okeoghene – is to dig a well in a desert. There’s no logic, for example, in the presentation of needy cases. How many Okeoghenes are left unfeatured on Linda Ikeji’s pop-blog? How many voices can a single ear hear?

I can only speak of a culminative, structured, and targeted model of cyber-activism. To achieve this we could design a system hinged on three words – problem-identification, investigation, action. This, of course, is against the backdrop that millions of Nigerians are taking to cyber-energy, finding essence in the measureless depth of webpages. And against the backdrop of our recent successes using the web as a weapon (naturally, this model excludes cyber-listless Nigerians, who, very unfortunately, are in the majority. But this will suggest that the energetic ones will take the lead). So, once anyone identifies a cause (and there are always several), one projects such problem into the cybersphere, utilizing a coordinated social-activism platform, detailing several means to prove authenticity, and stating a means to take action. In essence, the model becomes a hub with which multiple causes can be projected.

But in whom lies the ultimate obligation to help? Certainly not the cyberspace moralist. Because the right of one supposes the obligation of another. Here I distinguish between a right to help and an obligation to help. The former will suppose taking wilful, compassionate action. But the latter will suggest taking formalized action, within the context and instructiveness of policy. The question that bears repeating is, how can we go past sentimental actionability to insistent dialogue? What models could we create to draw in our governments to the table, make them obligated to social security? That’s the nagging question I cannot answer.

What would be our choice were we asked to, as Teju Cole tweets, choose between saving the life of others and granting them their due dignity? Isn’t there a fused reading of the right to life as the right to human dignity? Have we wondered that it is possible to take away dignity while trying to save a life? I am simply asking – what becomes of Okeoghene’s dignity now that his suffering has become a national concern? Is this worth considering? And more importantly, how do we come to a place where salvaging a life is not viralized, projected into the public space? A place where there is commonality of salvation, of aid – no, support – because the system that supports understands that a fundamental right implicates a fundamental, justitiable obligation.

Here is the problem of small miracles, like Okeoghene’s – it reduces a universal problem to a need for individual salvation. That is what I’ve been trying to say.

Emmanuel Iduma is the author of Farad, a short novel forthcoming from Parresia Books. He is Managing Editor of Saraba Magazine.

Prof Onyebuchi Chukwu, Minister of Health

by Sylva Nze Ifedigbo

The National Health Bill 2011 gathers dust in one of the Aso Rock’s cabinets, unsigned and thus not in effect, close to a year after the National Assembly finally passed it into law in May 2011. The passage into law, the climax of an over two years journey in the two chambers of the National Assembly was greeted with joy and high expectations that provisions of the new law once implemented will define, streamline and provide a framework for standard and regulation of health services in the country. The Bill was also expected to spell out the rights and duties of healthcare providers and health workers in the nation’s health system.

It is a known fact that there is an existing rivalry among the various professional groups in the health sector. The Doctors Vs Pharmacist Vs Nurses/Midwives Vs Laboratory technicians battle for equality or supremacy is an age old one and one of the contributory factors to the deplorable state of that sector and it is ironical that the very same reason, (one of the issues the Bill is to address) is the very reason why this Bill is yet to become law after such a long time.

No sooner had the National Assembly passed the harmonized version of the Bill that a controversy broke out from the usual suspects. The writers of the new law had in their wisdom created a new structure for the management of the Nation’s Tertiary Institutions which accounted for 80% of the annual budget to that sector. Instead of the existing structure where these hospitals were ran by an almighty Chief Medical Director, the new law introduced the “National Tertiary Hospitals Commission.” The mandate of the Commission as can be seen in the bill can be best described as laudable – all of it but one provision, that which states that the Executive Chairmanship of the proposed National Tertiary Hospitals Commission must be a; “Medical Director of the status of a Professor with a minimum of ten years working experience in a Teaching Hospital“ 

This clause which made the executive chairmanship an exclusive right of doctors, as minor as it appears effectively prevented the immediate signing of the bill into law as the various health groups would have none of it.  One would have thought that in a few weeks of round table talks, the issue will be resolved and the necessary amendments made to the law in the overall interest of Nigerians but it’s almost a year now and we are still at that point. Indeed, the Bill seems to have been relegated to the back waters of national discourse.

While the professional health groups play out their politics, one cannot help but observe that the Nation and indeed Nigerians especially those in the more disadvantaged segment of society are the worse for it. Each passing day, we deny ourselves the benefits contained in the Bill as we continue to watch health indices nose dive annually. Among these benefits is Free Medicare for children under 5 years, pregnant mothers and the elderly as well as disabled people, a guaranteed basic minimum health package for all Nigerians, universal acceptance of accident cases by all health facilities both public and private, closer monitoring and enforcement of standards, better funding for the sector and a host of others.

If the protracted disagreement is worrying, then the seeming conspiracy of silence by we the people, the would be beneficiaries is even more worrying. Nigerians are just uninterested. Not too many supposedly informed, internet savvy Nigerians know of the existence of the Bill. Not too many, care. Ironically, these same set of people can effortlessly state the provision of the equally controversial United States Health Care Plan popularly known as ObamaCare and argue on end about what is right or wrong about it. And because we have remained silent, the bill slowly gathers dust.

Signing the passed Bill into law is now out of the question. The controversial provision certainly does not meet with the tenets of equity and fairness and asking the other professional health groups to accept it will be asking for quite a lot. Instead I call on the President to as a matter of urgency to send back this Bill to the National Assembly for the necessary amendments to the contentious area. Preceding that, I expect the Minister of health to bring the various professional groups under his ministry to a round table where they can jaw jaw and come up with a workable compromise. Above all, I wish to call on the Nigerian people to wake up and demand for this Bill, to make it a topic of discussion, to secure for ourselves and our children unborn, a better deal.

A copy of the bill can be read here

Sylva Nze Ifedigbo, a columnist with DailyTimes lives in Lagos, Nigeria. 

Sometimes, the good we can do in our society are hidden until we simply attend a meeting, join a group and do something with other people. And then, eureka! We make a wonderful discovery and are motivated to do more. It happened to me recently through my National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) experience and now, I have a flash story to tell.

It happened on a sunny Friday, the 24th of February 2012, to be precise. I had woken up with a feeling of enduring indolence and was entirely unmotivated to go for our weekly Community Development Service (CDS). I rolled on bed and stared at the curtain. As if attracted to my gaze or perhaps chased away by the growing breeze from the other side of the window, the curtain dilated its uneven folds and sent them towards me. I immediately saw the gentleness of the sun and realized that the day was not young anymore. This sparked up some momentum within me and somehow, I pulled myself out of the cosy bed unashamedly and began acting like someone going for CDS. After doing all that could be done, I set out for a trip to Eti Osa 1 local government. When the cab man finally pulled up in front of the building, I became a little confused because there was an unusual array of corps members (or corpers) outside the local government office. Though it was not happening for the first time, it hardly occurred in such fashion. There were corpers on both sides of the street and even in the middle of the road.

Being a natural worrier, my first reaction was to panic. The conundrum was probably spelt out on my face so much that anyone who had seen me would naively mistake me for an otondo or a freshly recruited corper. But as I watched the crowd closely, I noticed there was no fuss or any form of violence. Relieved of the budding fret, I paid the taxi man and walked up to fellow corps member to discover what was going on. Lo and behold, it turned out that my adventurous CDS group was painting the streets of Muri Okunola in Victoria Island Lagos, right in front of the Local Government Office (LGO). They were not just painting the streets, but really painting zebra crossings on two lanes! I was shocked. I mean, we sure did not sign up for an art programme during the NYSC orientation! I was a bit distraught and thoughts like, “I knew I shouldn’t have come this early”, “Why didn’t I sleep longer?” and “What does a drama CDS group have to do with painting streets?” sailed through my mind.

Yet, standing there and watching my colleagues get down to paint that street made me see our usefulness to the Eti Osa 1 community. We were demonstrating our concern for the lives of those who are susceptible to motor bike and vehicle accidents. Unfortunately, some of us could not paint because there were limited tools. The paint brushes and rollers could not go round and there were a lot of people. So, the rest of us resorted to gallantly cheering our working colleagues. Nonetheless, as I observed the painting exercise, I realized that though we were not all painting, majority of us were there talking, bonding, laughing and at other times, complaining about the hot sun. At that moment I understood the essence of the NYSC scheme. I realized that it was not an idea borne for the sole purpose of service to the nation, but to also further national unity by bringing people from different parts of the country together regardless of societal class. NYSC CDS is not just a means of bettering Nigeria. It is a channel of through which we better ourselves in learned humility and true service.

Emilomo Ohiwerei is an NYSC corps member at the Eti Osa 1 local government area in Victoria Island.

Ladipo Oye-Somefun

The scoring system I am using will be around four areas:

1. Does the piece educate the reader: ie inform with evidence (Score: 3/10)
2.  How knowledgeable about the topic is the writer and does he share that knowledge (Score:2/10)
3. What are the key points (Score: 4/10)
4. Is there any follow through on points raised or does the writer use the scatter gun approach (Score: 1/10)

Total Score on an average calculation: 2.5/10 

Does the piece educate the reader: ie inform with evidence

Mr Kolawole moves in and has access to the most elite parts of Nigerian society.  These include people at the height of business, politics and media. Therefore when I picked up the piece to read it I was looking forward to being educated by someone knowledgeable and also to know the key points about the whole fuel subsidy issue.

I understand that journalism has to be populist in order to be commercial, however I think a duty to educate remains.

The piece is fairly comprehensive and touches on a broad range of topical issues affecting Nigeria. However I am disappointed that I have not learnt anything new.  The article is riddled with anecdotal comments about 1) private jets on a terminal; 2) over-invoicing; 3) fuel subsidy as an incentive for rent seekers.

I would have expected to be “schooled” on these issues with comments backed by evidence.  Nigeria has experienced tremendous economic growth over the last decade and therefore it is quite possible for people at the top of multi-billion naira enterprises to lease jets.  The comment about over-invoicing is left dangling without any further explanation.  People who have not run businesses or sat in a business studies class may not understand what over-invoicing actually means.  In addition Mr Kolawole accepts the fuel subsidy as incentive for rent seekers without discussing the intricacies involved nor using examples from other Nigerian administrations or overseas.

I feel rather than be educated, this piece may infuriate the casual reader who may be angry at the GEJ regime without actually knowing the reasons why he should be angry.  If we must debate fuel subsidy then it would be better to have a more knowledgeable readership.

Score: 3/10

How knowledgeable about the topic is the writer and does he share that knowledge

The piece does not appear to display or demonstrate the writer’s knowledge on the issues at hand nor does it show whether any comprehensive research was conducted or carried out.  The use of the royal “we” and lack of mentioning or describing specific sources further weakens any claims to knowledge. There is a plethora of populist terms which further alienates the reader: “government” ; “buccaneers”; and “fuel importers” amongst others.  Specifics would have strengthened the case being made.

Score: 2/10

What are the key points

The piece is strong with regards to the key points.  It quickly identifies these within the first two paragraphs.  I believe these to be 1) social contract between the ruled and the rulers; and 2) behavioural economics.

These two key points are highlighted and interrelated.  The ruled as sovereign provide the rulers with space and resources to carry out their duties, while the rulers have a duty to create an environment where the welfare of the ruled can be improved upon.  Whether this means the rulers allocating resources on the behalf of the ruled or providing a framework for the ruled to provide these for themselves.

The rulers having campaigned and won elections have made a case of their credibility and credentials to the ruled.  They have claimed competence and understanding of the social contract.

In respect to behavioural economics, the piece touches upon this when it mentions the opportunistic pricing behaviour of transporters as well as the ability of rent seekers to put pressure on the social contract through allegedly corrupt practices.

The piece does lose marks though because it does not explicitly set these key points out.

Score: 4/10

Is there any follow through on points raised or does the writer use the scatter gun approach

At this point it is instructive to recall the title of the piece was : “How not to remove fuel subsidy”; the piece could have been much improved if it focused on one or two points and followed through.  I do not believe there was consistent follow through.

The reader is left to run a gauntlet of different threads.  These threads vary from a feeling of being cheated by political elites, comments about the inefficiency of the fuel subsidy regime all the way to government officials reportedly flying first class.  Once the reader’s mind has settled down he is then met with four narrations which are provided as a conclusion.  These narrations on their own could stand and form four separate articles, each with sub-topics.

The lack of any serious follow through on the various points raised has, in my opinion, weakened what could have been a good article.

Score: 1/10

Ladipo is a qualified accountant and MBA holder. He works in Corporate Finance in London.

——

Abimbola Agboluaje

Total Score: 1/10

Mr. Kolawole is guiltier of obfuscation than economic illiteracy. One was very glad about a year ago, when Mr. Kolawole, who used to be fully in support of the fuel subsidy, changed his mind and turned against it. In this article, he is guiltier of obfuscation than economic illiteracy. He has succumbed to what Lucy Kellaway of FT once described as WET – Weak Excuse Syndrome. Let’s go through the detours and diversions in Simon Kolawole’s article:

1. Mr. Kolawole writes “….I am pro-subsidy (it may be fuel or something else).” He justifies this on the grounds that 90 % of Nigerians live on less than $2 a day and because we “would be courting trouble to declare that every single thing should be left to market forces”. He adds, even in “extremely capitalist countries”, they don’t leave everything to market forces, they provide a “bundle of safety nets for the vulnerable”.

Almost every word is misleading or untrue in some way. Many people live on $2 per day not because they need more subsidies but because resources, which could be spent on stuff that will “tempt” businesses to invest and create productive employment, are being frittered on subsidies. Likewise, Nigeria is so poor because the state meddles in everything (steel mills, paper mills, palm oil mills, banking, aviation, telecommunications, lands, construction etc), sucking up and wasting resources. Nigeria didn’t become poor because things were abandoned to “market forces”. In “extremely capitalist countries”, they target subsidies towards the poorest e.g. people riding to work in decent comfortable buses rather than those riding in personal cars, consuming fuel which could be sold abroad for higher prices and used to obtain foreign exchange and develop infrastructure.

So when Mr. Kolawole writes “The closest thing to social security that people enjoy here is the fuel subsidy”, it makes one wonder what sort of “social security” is consumed by the better-off (probably less than 10 % of Nigerians living in a few cities consume 85 % of the fuel subsidy.)

2. Mr. Kolawole writes “In Nigeria, there is virtually nothing for the people. The rich and the powerful gather like vultures and tear into the national treasury at will, leaving the people high and dry. They ride all the cars, own all the houses and eat all the food. At our expense, of course! ”

Again, the implication here is that market forces are to blame. When people become extremely rich without creating jobs, they are not “exploiting” the masses in the classical sense, i.e. extracting labour in factories or plantations and keeping too much of the surplus value created. They are simply stealing and this plunder is much better facilitated by opaque policies that place billions of dollars in the drawers of bureaucrats and politicians.

3. Mr. Kolawola also has a problem with those who argue that the best way to eliminate the corruption associated with the administration of the subsidy is to remove the incentive for it i.e. the subsidy. In his thinking, the “removing the incentive for corruption” argument is invalid because, amongst other reasons, “…if we have to follow it through, we may soon privatise our rotten police force”. This is the best of Nigerian “economic journalism” which feeds public thinking about policy i.e. “arguments” that are perplexing because they are superficially logical but which you know to be complete baloney immediately they leave someone’s mouth or pen. To extend Mr. Kolawole’s logic, a big and/or over-extended state with deep and diverse economic powers is not a problem conceptually or in reality – all its managers need to do is suddenly summon the reserves of discipline they have kept unused since 1960. For him, whittling down the economic roles of the state is a cowardly and unworthy shortcut.

4. And it gets worse. In his January 22 piece, Mr. Kolawole takes issue with Sanusi Lamido Sanusi’s distinction between subsidizing consumption versus production subsidy. He argues that when he rides his car to work, he is involved in “production”, so he is entitled to the fuel subsidy just as the barber and pepper grinder. This is just something you expect pepper grinders to say in their own defence. Why on earth should the Government subsidise The Editor of ThisDay to get to work to “produce” this sort of article! Well, here’s the injustice of it: 30 people (artisans, market women, unemployed etc) on a bus to Apapa = 3 litres of subsidized fuel. I person (well-paid Editor blowing air conditioner) riding in his car to Apapa = 2.5 litres of subsidized fuel. And those pepper grinders? These are just human shields used by well-off Nigerians to defend the fuel subsidy-the poor have the most to gain when the funds (even if 50% of it is stolen) are redeployed to schools, hospitals, mass transit schemes which middle classes will not use.

5. Then Mr. Kolawole throws the final howler “Agriculture is heavily subsidized in Europe. Every farmer gets financial incentives to keep farming…When agriculture is subsidized, the produce is cheaper. Everybody who goes to the market to buy carrots or milk enjoys the same low prices”. What agriculture subsidies does for everyone in Europe is raise prices by paying a guaranteed income to farmers, that is why cheaper imports have to be kept out through high tariffs. And this is sustained by politics, with the the farm lobby pocketing politicians to do their bidding (nearly half of the European Union’s budget is spent on the Common Agriculture Policy through which farm subsidies are administered). What the state does is to help the poor buy the food through subsidies, food stamps, tax credits etc. And better-off citizens who are hit with income tax of between 30-40 % pay both for the farm subsidy and welfare (Nigerian equivalent pay only tithes). There is always someone somewhere paying for a free lunch!

6. Simon Kolawole is a very fine and insightful writer when he writes about what he knows very well – politics and history. His view on the fuel subsidy has reverted to the populist fare of Nigerian journalism. His second piece contained the usual critique of the imperial remuneration of Nigerian politicians, yet he states in the same article that he is “thoroughly impressed” by David Mark, the Senate President who is rumoured to enjoy a remuneration package of about N600 million per annum, because he “acted as a good mediator and seasoned crisis manager…” in retaining the fuel subsidy (though at a reduced level). Shouldn’t the number 3 citizen of the country have a view on his party’s critical economic policies? Mr. Kolawole can celebrate the messy and appalling end to the fuel subsidy saga because he has no clear view of the cost to the Nigerian economy, or the role subsidies and other forms of economic interventions play in promoting corruption.

Never rely on a WET!

Abimbola writes from Lagos, Nigeria.

Megaphone

Perspectives
In June, 2011, we started Perspectives, a monthly column featuring guest posts from non-Nigerians who follow political and cultural happenings in Nigeria. We hope this will liven up the site by giving you an outside-the-country point-of-view on Nigeria, and hopefully make you see issues in a different light. To contribute to the column, send an email to the Politics Editor, Saratu Abiola, at saratu.abiola@nigerianstalk.org

Life and Style
Do you write short, fictional stories, poetry? Are you a philosophical thinker? Or a fashion-blogger, stylist? We are looking for contributors for our new section – the Life and Style section.

Why have we started this? Because we believe tht Nigerians have a diverse range of interests and while we are a platform for hardtalk on topics relating to politics and the economy, Nigerians across the globe are also interested in fiction, poetry, fashion, image and style and philosophy. These different interests are inter-woven.

You only have to think of how the work of philosophers has influenced the way we think, the world of style influencing the way we live, dress, how we design our homes, our cities, and fashion – influences what we wear, and how we relate to the cultural influences around us (think how powerful a statement it would be if Barack Obama wore an agbada or a jalabia to a press conference, and you can understand the power of fashion and fashion choices, and how the social influences the political and the economic.)

Here at NigeriansTalk, we aim to work together to create a more intelligent and more informed group of people. So if you are interested in contributing to any of the above, please contact the Life and Style Editor, Adun Okupe, at adun.okupe@nigerianstalk.org

This month, Krystal Strong, PhD candidate at University of California, Berkley, writes about an election of the National Association of Nigerian Students that she witnessed.

NANS Logo

The Godfather is what I am:
7:30 am. Sunday. Expressway.
His phone rang.  Another update from the field.  After a few moments of listening, he truncated the audibly frantic report. “Ma worry,” he pleaded, with the impatient assurance of a father trying to convince his child that there’s nothing to be afraid of in the dark.  “Within two hours of my landing, every equation will change by God’s grace.”

It was obvious that the caller was First Timer, a student who’d campaigned for him during the general elections, and whose ambitions he was now supporting at the National Convention of the National Association of Nigerian Students (NANS).  First Timer had been in Yenagoa for three days and, so far, it was unclear when or if the election would hold.  When I spoke to First Timer the previous night, he described the Convention ground as tense and disorderly.  Violence seemed imminent and there were reports of three cultists being killed.

He cut the phone and turned towards me.  Then, after a pause, he stated, “This will be good for your report.”   As if pondering how I would write about him, he asked, “The Godfather….is that what I am?”  Without waiting for a response, he added, “Well, it’s a progressive role,” in acknowledgement (and defense) of the niche he’d created for himself within the movement.

I’d interviewed The Godfather weeks prior.  His name was well-known among student leaders and with good reason: he was a former union and National NANS president, he won a state office in the 2011 elections, and he was credited with delivering the student vote to the new Governor.  It was then that he invited me to the Convention.  It’d be good for my work, he promised, because NANS illustrates how debased student politics has become.  This was a familiar critique.  The prevailing opinion about NANS was that “comrades” were often cultists, non-students, and money-seekers.

This is how you do politics:
1:30 pm.  Sunday.  Port Harcourt.
As soon as the flight landed, The Godfather phoned the Governor to inform him that he was en route to Bayelsa.  When he called Barracks Man next to know his location, I was shocked that they were even on speaking terms.  Days before, the respective allies of Barracks Man and The Godfather almost came to blows in the Governor’s presence, in an embarrassing spectacle, in which one side carried canes to beat the other, and the Governor had to literally beg both camps to behave decorously.  The episode was the most public expression of the fractionalization of the state NANS, which had engendered two students claiming to be state Chairman.

Noting my confusion, The Godfather clarified that the factions had reconciled, by necessity, to deliver four positions to their zone.  “This is how you do politics: bringing enemies to your side. Also, money,” he explained.  Still, The Godfather seemed all too aware of how the state fractionalization might subvert his national objectives.  On the phone again, he outlined his plan for consolidation: he would call a zonal meeting to coordinate the scattered interests and sentiments.  “There’s no money, but with my little money, I will empower them quietly so that we all work together.”

I asked him, then, why he was going through such pains on First Timer’s behalf.  “I don’t need him for anything,” he pronounced emphatically.  “He worked for me, he believed in my vision, and he added value to it, so I want to support his ambitions.  He will learn leadership and get exposure.”  As if to assure me that his role was not imposed, he added, “People need me around.  You will see how people come around me.  I used to be at the helm of most of these affairs, organizing things, getting money for them: 5, even 10 million. But, I had to move up.”

Enjoying the network:
5:00pm.  Sunday.  Yenagoa.
Upon entering Yenagoa, we rendezvoused with a former NANS president from The Godfather’s zone at a local eatery.  They discussed making arrangements for “stakeholders meetings” with the various zones.  The Godfather called a former NANS executive, one of his “products,” to fly down from Abuja to ensure that the Southeast region voted in his favor.  He said we’d soon meet with his “political son,” who would help him ally with the Northern bloc to produce the Presidential candidate from their zone and First Timer as the National VP.  Another veteran was traveling from Delta State to deliver the South-South vote and to double as his personal security.  Personal Security, let’s call him, was The Godfather’s most trusted companion during conventions ever since he saved his life some years back when an assassination was attempted.

As I listened to the permutations at work in the electioneering process, I was astonished by the disproportionate power “the stakeholder” wields.  Before entering the convention ground, The Godfather had already engineered the outcome of the process to the point of being able to stall and fast-track the pace at his discretion.  Without having to present First Timer to defend his qualifications, The Godfather’s influence was all that was required and expected.  The Godfather appeared publicly among students, only after the bulk of this strategy was put into motion.  First Timer visibly exhaled when he saw The Godfather, who took him aside to explain the plans on ground.  “Don’t worry,” The Godfather repeated to him.  “You are now enjoying the network.”

The Winning Ticket: First Timer (2nd from left), Krystal, The President, and The Godfather, flanked by the Northern Senators

 
NANS elections can’t go smoothly:
11 am.  Monday.  Yenagoa.
Throughout the early morning, I heard muffled chatter from The Godfather’s room next door.  Wearing the same clothes from the previous evening, he summoned me to join him in a meeting of the Northern Senators, most of whom looked entirely too old to be students.  Among them were First Timer and the candidate The Godfather was supporting for the presidency.  He nonchalantly explained that I was doing research on student politics, and returned to convincing them to work with him to deliver the Presidency and Vice Presidency.  “Come, I will be leaving this place soon, and you can’t all have what you want,” he insisted.  “My zone is going for 4 posts and that is what I’m expecting you to do.  If you have the Presidency, you can’t also have the Senate Presidency.  Take Ex-Officio, take Financial Secretary, take one other.”   Their negotiation finished, The Godfather instructed me to take a picture of us all together.  “The winning Presidential and Vice Presidential ticket,” he prophesied.

For security purposes, The Godfather and Personal Security were adamant about us quickly rounding up the meetings then “getting the fuck out of Bayelsa” long before the elections started.  They knew The Godfather was a target and, if their plan worked, violence would break out.  The night before, two union buses were sprayed with bullets and, elsewhere, The Godfather narrowly missed being struck by gunfire.  The Godfather and Personal Security agreed that “the election can never go smoothly.”  As soon as the President emerged, a gun battle would ensue among rivals.  Normally, The Godfather, a self-proclaimed “warrior,” said he could handle a battle, but he hadn’t prepared and given his current office, it wouldn’t speak well of him to shoot at students.

He opted, instead, to “empower” his way to victory.  As we alighted from the car at the Convention ground, The Godfather held out a black nylon with wads of crisp Naira notes for me to put in my purse.  (Just as there’s no way to refuse “transport fare,” there’s no real diplomatic way to refuse carrying it).  The Godfather was immediately recognized by person after person and, in no time, a crowd of 50 men surrounded the car.  Though The Godfather appeared calm in the midst of the multitude, I clutched my bag compulsively and prepared for the worst.  Personal Security explained that they were fighting over N200,000 from The Godfather, as he ushered me into the back seat.  The Godfather joined us and instructed the driver to move up the road away from the crowd so the money could be shared securely.  “Count out 20,000,” he instructed me, then asked for one of the bundles of N50,000.  He gave another N100,000 to Personal Security, which he stuffed in his pants, to share to the Southeast and South-South stakeholders.  And just like that, with the money shared, we were off.

The Godfather laid his head back on the headrest and sighed.  “We have tidied up quietly.  We have tried our best.  Can you imagine I spent almost N700,000 on that ground?  He will win,” he assured himself.

The Calm Before the Storm: Inside the Convention Venue

That is politics for you:
6 am.  Tuesday. Expressway.
I woke up suddenly, to the sound of lamentations.  “He won’t win.  There’s no way.  I’m so annoyed.  I wanted the Presidency. I wanted the Vice Presidency. The two are important to me,” The Godfather ranted.  I gathered that First Timer had lost.  Just minutes before, we left Lagos by road before dawn.  The election started late the previous night and by the time I dozed off, the only progress was that his candidate had emerged as President.  His grief metamorphosing into revenge, The Godfather threatened all parties involved, known and unknown, “Let them come to my state and say they want to see my Governor. They will know me.  All my plans for them?  The executive accounts, the NGOs, the international connections?  Cancelled.”

The zonal reconciliation had failed.  Beyond that, the candidate he’d helped emerge as President sacrificed his alliance with The Godfather, having already secured his victory, in favor of one of his competitors for the Presidency.  Apparently, the new President’s desire to avoid a factional government forming was stronger than his loyalty to The Godfather.  “My traditional friends abandoned me because I’m not there.  They’re not good people,” he explained.  “If I believed in factions, I would just misinform my governor, they would give First Timer a car, announce it to the press, and he would be acting as National VP.  But that is what’s dividing NANS presently.”

I considered the money, time, and energy invested in the expected outcome and asked The Godfather what was next.  Before he could respond, the phone rang.  “They stopped the election because they know I’m aggrieved,” he later explained.  “It looks like in the by-election, they will arrange for First Timer to have a post.  Maybe the External Vice President.”  “So, what does that mean,” I asked him?  With a smirk, he said “I will forgive them, of course.  That is politics for you.”

Krystal Strong blogs here. You can also follow her on Twitter.

In response to this, ‘The 419Positive Project’was initiated, with an ambitious objective of generating four hundred and nineteen positive

attributes about Nigeria and Nigerians. “If you could tell the world one remarkable thing about Nigeria and Nigerians, what would it be?”

419 Reasons

Furthermore, in Peter Reilly’s Forbes blog post (Aug 28, 2011), he suggested a similar intervention to his Nigerian audience – “Make lists of 419 reasons to like Nigeria and Nigerians…” His suggestion came as one remedial to his previous post (Nigerians Switching From Greed to Fear), after some Nigerians took exceptions to his views. Other online posts by Chika Uwazie, Nmachi Jidenma and Akin Akintayo, have further lent a voice in this regard.

Pulling these ideas and suggestions together, an online rebranding campaign is being furthered. The aim is clear – to consistently inundate the internet with positive Nigerian attributes, such that when anyone types in ‘419’ in a search engine, it yields positive commentary about Nigeria, irrespective of the pre-existing negativity. This drive is labelled 419 Reasons to Like Nigeria. Awareness is currently being ramped up online, with the topic having trended on Twitter in the early hours of 2^nd of September. There will be the big bang launch on October 1, 2011 (Independence Day), of at least 100 Nigerian blogs and sites listing four hundred and nineteen remarkable reasons to like Nigeria, with subsequent monthly blog publishing till the end of 2011.

Every Nigerian with a blog, website, and online presence of any sort (Facebook, Twitter, Google+, account etc.) is encouraged to volunteer and be a part of this campaign. With sincerity and candour, it is true that some, in times past, have contributed unfortunately to the prevailing negative association of ‘419’ with Nigeria, however, the time is NOW for us to counter-strategise by providing alternative content via an online rebranding initiative.

To register your interest, simply send an email to volunteer@419Positive.org, with the subject –CAMPAIGN VOLUNTEER, and be sure to provide contact details (email address) so you can be reached subsequently. Volunteers will be contacted latest by the 9^th of September, 2011.

Be a part of this drive…the time is now! Let’s tell the world 419 Reasons to Like Nigeria.