Of passings...

Two passings in two weeks; it doesn't get any easier to accept. 

All the faith and the understanding that life on earth is but a stopover, doesn't quite prepare one for these things. It doesn't stop me from imagining; sometimes feeling the pain of my friends at their spouse’s exit. It is no easier with the fifty-something year old father of four than it is with the thirty-something year old mother of none.

The fact that I have held a dead body in close proximity before doesn’t make me more immune to the goose-flesh inducing news that days after an auto crash, then surgery to correct severe head injuries and a ruptured liver, my beautiful friend is no more to be referred to as Ifeoma, but simply; the body.

Thoughts of passing from this realm to the next…

May you awaken light; unburdened by earthly cares, and eager to fly. May your spirit know joy as you glide home on angels wings! 


Photo credits: Google

What’s the big deal about Satans & Shaitans?

Book in Review:         SATANS & SHAITANS

Author                        Obinna Udenwe

Publisher                    AMAB BOOKS 2016 (First published: JACARANDA BOOKS, 2014.)

No of Pages               292

If a fellowship of masters of intrigue in Nigerian literature exists, Obinna Udenwe should definitely be a senior fellow. His dexterity at infusing crime fiction with this tale of terrorism is truly ingenious.

The book SATANS AND SHAITANS, is a page turner that kept me on the edge of my seat (or table; as the case was at some points), and had me holding my breath in anticipation till the last page.

The story has an intense plot, with shriek-inducing twists that shocked me no end; I felt myself guessing the next move unsuccessfully, and being pleasantly surprised— chapter after chapter.

S & S AMAB Cover

Power, a pernicious occult movement, and the quest to overthrow the government of the day form a dangerous triad in this novel. This tripod is the basis upon which killings and attacks are carried out; all under the guise of forming an Islamic state in a country as multi cultural and multi religious as Nigeria. In this instance, the author may have hit too close to home, and may run the risk of inciting further mistrust from his people, but then, do we not all learn that art mirrors life?

The Sacred Order has members from all over the world and in Nigeria, their top officials include the world renowned Evangelist Chris Chuba, the extremely wealthy industrialist Chief Amaechi and a couple of people in government. The order does not smile at members who disagree with status quo, so killings are rife. Deadly as they are though, they are unable to envisage that the jihadist movement which they set in motion will turn around with an agenda of its own. This author is very adept at showing that human nature is the most slippery substance. Not to be trusted and definitely not to be underestimated.

Beneath all the dark machinations of terrorism is a painfully beautiful love story, between the young children of two senior members of The Sacred order. Children who have each endured sheltered lives till their eyes meet and love pushes them to break down the barricades meant to ensure physical and social order, but which have nothing on their hearts. But, in the words of the poet Toni Kan, ‘What is temptation, if you do not fall?’

Their love is so beautiful— as the young couple falls, you fall along with them and hope their love never ends. But this is a rather hazy dream because the book starts with a painful discovery that the girl is missing. Your nerves are not calmed either when you read that her head is wanted by the order as requirement for her father’s continued rise. But the order does not have her, so you keep wondering; who does? And so the suspense continues, you keep hoping Adeline will appear and continue her love with Donaldo, and then you find out she was killed – and in unbelievable circumstances too.

Obinna Udenwe sure knows how to twist a tale!

This is one fast paced story and even though this novel is quite ambitious, the writer’s ability to pace the story well and create unforeseeable plot twists adds immensely to the suspense and joy of reading.

Early in the book, I recognized one thing; this author has a thing for hair.  If this craze did not come to the fore with mostly male characters, this reviewer would have declared it a ‘fetish’. Well, maybe it is a fetish afterall.

Of Chief Amaechi, we read in page 165 ‘… his full hair was well combed’. In page 51, we read ‘A big man with fine combed, bushy hair and a clean shaven face was standing beside the sheik’. The instances go on with other characters in the book.

The assassination of the Minister of Justice left me in doubt though. It came off too easy, with no resistance from armed security personnel who were not said to be part of the plan. It is highly implausible that one man could bore a hole big enough to contain an adult male, into a concrete fence in the quiet of the night without arousing any interest, or that a handsaw would work its way through a metal grille without the sounds waking anyone up. But hey, maybe I’ve seen too many spy movies.

 S and S Jacaranda cover

The book is interspersed with quotes from the Holy Bible and references from the Holy Qur’an. Suffice to say it is difficult to place the author’s religious allegiances- if any- judging from the book.

Have I mentioned that the author is blood happy? So many characters die in the book (and no, I don’t mean victims of bombings or other acts of terrorism). I suppose in certain ways this could be a plus. Not many writers have the surgical capacity to kill off a character when they outlive their usefulness, or to buttress the fact of another character’s psychological state.

Now that the book has finally been published in Nigeria and thus made more accessible to the Nigerian reading public, I hope you all go out there and buy it. It is a must read!

B is for Blom Blom – Identity Crisis in Bokoru’s Memoir

THE ANGEL THAT WAS ALWAYS THERE. 141 Pages

Publishers:   PARRESIA, NIGERIAN WRITERS SERIES. 2014

Author:  JULIUS BOKORU

Attempting to write a memoir at the tender age of twenty five is an ambitious endeavour, but Julius Bokoru has told a tale in this book that is quite memorable.

In the early chapters we are introduced to the fishing village of Ikibiri in the Niger Delta, where we are swept into the village life and plush scenery. This writer has an eye for detail, and he employs it keenly.

Bokoru’s narrative gets assertive at some points, ‘… men began to give her way, for the greatest embarrassment a man could have, after a shrunken manhood was to be beaten by a woman.’ 
This was a reference to his maternal grandmother, Kenan.  He came from a line of strong women as his mother was equally reputed to out-fight men and women in her teens. Even his dedication attests to this: Hetty Lewis, though she is no longer around. Mother, Tigress, Angel.

Bokoru- Memoir

This is a story of a tigress who was sorely scratched by love’s claws. It is the early 80s, she is in the beginning of a nursing career and in the heat of a relentless wooing, the beautiful, light skinned Hetty chooses her 'Baltimore' suitor over her town’s man.  Their romance buds and blooms with the fervour of a rose bush, but less than a decade later, the stalks of this nuptial tree begin to wither and decay. 

Bokoru shows us that through the rot and decay, his mother stood tall to give her children a good upbringing.  The author shows an uncanny sensitivity for the trials of a single mother, his avid eye for detail helps us appreciate her not as a wayward woman as many people are wont to conclude, but as a human being whom circumstances got the better of.

The book is written in two voices, that of the narrator and the inimitable voice of one who is no longer there. Of his conception, we read: ‘We were both blue and brokenhearted, and when a woman is brokenhearted, the only man that could have her easiest was an equally  brokenhearted man. Because shared disappointment creates trust, trust creates preference, and preference opens every heart, whole or broken.’

It is incisive to note that Bokoru situates every chapter in the context of world happenings for the given year or period. This is not a bad technique, except that it does not so much establish relevance within the character’s lives as much as it gives the story a plausible timeline.

A recurring thread in the book is the search for identity. Beginning from when they move to Marine Base, the author says: ‘If poverty could assume an ethnic concept or nationality or identity, then those of us in Marine Base, including my family, would be povertarians’

It is here that one gets intrigued and sometimes moved to tears as a young Julius starts school for the first time, and learns the alphabets with Aunty Eunice(their pastor’s wife) who taught the nursery one pupils that A is for Akamu B is for Blom-Blom, C is for Canoe, P is for Papa and so on! 

Ingenious examples, yes. But the real mover is young Julius’ inability to say what PAPA stands for.  His confusion only gets worse when he asks his mother who a daddy is. If daddy is the head of a family, is he like Jesus? Or is daddy a way of addressing any older male? Recognition comes to Julius throughout the book in painful installments, including an episode in school where children are asked to state which of their parents they resemble. Oh, the dilemma of claiming to look like a daddy he has never met as opposed to a mummy whose complexion is as distinct from his as night is from day!

We also learn of our character’s love for his homeland. The Ijaw and Calabari tussle is mentioned with more than a fleeting glance, and we see that the author evolves into his identity as a native of Ijaw land. We learn of the creation of Bayelsa from the three major towns Brass, Yenagoa and Sagbama, and the impact that this has on his family.

When his family moves to the new Bayelsa, it is unclear however how they transition from ‘povertarians’ to becoming property owners whose tenants come to bid farewell with an offering of a basin of meat. Small thing, certainly; if an editor had taken enough time to work on the book.

The Angel That Was Always There is a beautiful and touching story with so much potential; no doubt the reason why it was selected as one of the ten novels published under the Nigerian Writers Series in 2014. I am saddened that Parresia publishers could do themselves and this young author the injustice of not being thorough. The book is riddled with typos and other errors. I have no doubts that this book may not be the best marketing tool for Paressia. 

The cover is absolutely fantastic though; Victor Ehikhamenor never disappoints in that regard.

In spite of the flaws, I have no regrets about reading it. 

Finding Love Again - A Review

I'm starting the year with some romance. Ominous, you think? Well, hopefully in a good way. Enjoy. And, Happy New Year friends!

Finding love again by Cioma Iwunze-Ibiam

Finding Love Again

113 PAGES.

Published by : ANKARA PRESS, 2013

AUTHOR: CHIOMA IWUNZE-IBIAM 

Finding Love Again is one of the books in Cassava Republic’s Ankara Press Romance Series. 

The opening scene of the book is as captivating as it is heart breaking; a young bride is alone at the altar after her groom elopes with her maid of dishonor. From the opening sequence we are at once gripped with compassion for our heroine; Kambi, as we hope that this storms passes soon for her.

This radio presenter and blogger who moonlights as a performance poet(this part got me interested), is young beautiful and confident, she is every girl’s babe, and the girl any right thinking man would want to take home to meet Mama. And this is exactly what Beba, our hunk of a love interest decides to do when after years apart, the two of them run into each other again, on the picturesque Obudu mountain resort.

One snag though. They are to be a pretend couple, just long enough for his father to give him hints to find his birth mother; this is a promise that can only be kept when our mixed race hunk brings home a fiancé.

We are told that the Author is a hopeless romantic; this is evident in many passages which virtually drip with romance.  ‘…“When he kisses me, my spirit soars, my heart waltzes in my chest and my breathing pauses. I become a goddess.” She stopped, opened her eyes. Was she being too open about her emotions, she wondered. …’

And here’s another: ‘… Beba had never looked into a woman’s eyes like this before. He felt at once that he should preserve the moment; put it on pause with a remote control. His heart pounded against his chest as he reached out and touched her jaw. Kambi’s eyes closed instinctively. He leaned over, brushed his lips against hers. She sighed,…’

Passions jumps at you from the pages; our hero and heroine are on fire for one another. It is so hot that you can almost feel the heat melt the clothes off their backs, but if you had looked forward to some moan provoking, toe cringing, steamy sex, sorry; Kambi is a girl bent on protecting her virtue, and Beba is ready to stop when she says No! Where did they find this type of man, mbok?

In the tradition of your typical romance fiction, our lovebirds get thrown apart when the passion is at its hottest, and we find our heroine struggling to cope with her radio show and her blog. Our hero faces some tough luck in his search for his Caucasian birth mother, and he pines for the love who he never told his true feelings on account of their sham engagement.

This reviewer wished however that some angles were better explored in the book. Such as the search for Beba’s mother, Kambi’s strained relationship with her mother, etc. and I wondered why our hero always danced the moonwalk!

Bibi Bakare of Cassava Republic did say at a book festival in 2013, that this was a new wave of young writers who were telling the stories of men who would not necessarily fit the stereotype. This is very true for the hero in Finding Love Again. None of the chauvinism and offensive machismo for Beba; he is all muscles, charm and respect. And our heroine is quite the independent woman too, who manages to complete her poetry collection and fall in love at the same time.

Despite a few editing errors, It is a captivating read; I kept clicking till I read the last word! I’m sure if/when they decide to go into print, it will be a page turner till the end.

The Publishers claim they bring a different kind of romance, I'd say; buy one or all of the six books in the series and find out.

Our Conversation has been silenced...

Our conversation has been silenced, mid-speech

Our dance stalled, mid-trot

This sudden stillness rouses the

Pressing need to form my next words,

Lest the reaper comes before my next sentence is complete

Laughter has been ripped from my throat, mid-chuckle

Your rich baritone now echoes in slices of memory;

My inescapable lot henceforth

Soldier; march on while we dance on,

Before movement is stopped with that old man’s scythe

I wish to speak urgently

Yet words desert me

I wish to sing all the melodies now

Before the tunes are muted forever,

But broken strings can not strum sweet in the orchestra of life

In love, do you lift the veil,

Desperate to inform us all is well?

Is that your voice in the wind whispering to Jemie, Genevieve and the rest;

‘I am whole, worry not’?

Or do you shed tears instead, for songs yet unsung?

Tarry not, Soldier

Weary not your spirit over blood and friend turned foe in your absence

Let the discourse progress yonder,

Even as they celebrate your return in that realm

For what is a market if sellers do not wrap their wares at day’s end?

Your lusty songs will be hard to mute,

Your conversations more difficult to silence,

Immortalized on hearts and in print

Yet through heavy hearts we stand in salute

A true soldier once walked these terrains

A truer artist now awakens on distant shores

Adieu Austyn!

In Our Minds- A review

IN OUR MINDS- Reflections of the Youth at Nigeria’s Centenary (1914-2014)

Publisher:       TGIC SECRETARIAT, ABUJA

302 PAGES

The book In our Minds is a beautifully catalogued assemblage of thoughts, opinions, and deeply analyzed ideas by a group of young Nigerians in a run up to the country’s centenary celebrations. The full coloured print is clean, and at a glance the glossy paper attests to the fact that this project is one with a stamp of excellence.

The book begins with a quote from President Goodluck Ebele Jonathan on how the amalgamation created  a unique c and beautiful country, of richly blessed people who have turned out some of the most resourceful  & innovative people in the world…

A flip to the next page brings you face to face with the somewhat more reflective and firm declaration; a quote from past head of state Gen Yakubu Gowon: “These Centenary celebrations should remind us that our darkest hours are behind us and that our best days are still ahead of us. This event is a salient reminder that as an entity, our unity and oneness are non-negotiable.”

Very apt words from the head of state under whose rule, the country nearly split, during a three year civil war at the end of which no victor or vanquished was declared, though the country stood on wobbly feet with several bruised parts.

The Secretary to the federal Government Senator Anyim Pius Anyim in his foreword enthused that a breath of fresh air is about to be introduced into the centenary celebrations with the involvement of youths who not only complain of a stagnant Nigeria, but also proffer solutions to the nation’s challenges.

A deep longing for change is obviously one of the engines that drive many of these young Nigerians. This is evident from the in-depth analyses of the issues tackled in the weekly TGIC competitions organized on the facebook page. Topics ranged from Corruption to Traffic jams, to Mob action, to Nigeria’s image abroad, to caring for the aged, Brain-drain, Violence in the Legislative, Social security and much more.

Interesting to note is the fact that the youths initially viewed the project as suspicious, “… boys are not smiling. Did we ask you to celebrate stupid 100 years? Sure one of you would be robbing us with this crazy stuff”  and “Democracy without development, plans without action, people without government, government without commitment” and other derisive remarks littered the page in the beginning.  These are understandable sentiments in the face of corruption, and the lingering insecurity in the state, with senseless killings of harmless citizens by insurgents in the north.

At the escalation of scathing remarks and accusations, the administrators of the social media team met with the secretary to the government and mapped a way out of the quicksand that the social media page was fast becoming. The Honourable secretary suggested Thank God it’s Centenary- TGIC; a twist of the popular ‘Thank God it’s Friday’. From that point the stage was set to coax, trick or convince the Nigerian youths out of their distrust.

Alternative use was found for the otherwise negative energy bristling on the social media platforms, and the Nigerian Youth; a sucker for competitions and games, was aptly positioned for this. Members of this online community were eventually to be called ‘Centennial Ambassadors’

The youths must be commended for their ingénue, and the willingness to creatively find solutions to different matters as they arose.  They were given weekly vignettes, asked to imagine they were in positions of power, and solutions were demanded of them. Thrown into the deep end, they thus came up with possible steps to overcome the weekly challenge. Winners were crowned Ambassador for the week, with a letter of commendation from the federal government and a phone, IPad or laptop.

The motivation to respond to the weekly scenarios may have been the mouthwatering prizes, but in the end, true patriotism pushed the would-be leaders to think up inspiring responses with an amazing understanding of the issues at hand.

For the fortunate ones who got shortlisted, they became overnight politicians, lobbying for votes and likes from friends and well-wishers. A thoroughly democratic process that undoubtedly was, yet this reviewer wonders if this process of selecting winners was not more a of a popularity contest than an objective choice of who merited the award.

Some awardees got immediate employment with the office of the Secretary to the Federal Government. Winners came from within Nigeria and the diaspora.

A few contributions stood out though and they attested to the intelligence of the respondents.

Eg: Ope Adediran on Social Welfare for the Unemployed, said ‘…the social welfare benefits are barely enough to afford the basic necessities of life, and are primarily designed to prevent the vulnerable citizens from being destitute. Furthermore a social welfare scheme will enable some thrifty and creative Nigerians to use such payments as stepping stone out of the unemployment to become self –employed and become employers of labour. It is important that social welfare benefits for the unemployed should also cover those unable to work due to disability or old age.’

 Speaking on Influence of Society on Public Office holders, Ekpa Faith, Pauline spoke vehemently in favour of discipline and uprightness. According to her ‘Conflicting interests will definitely come from family & friends, but I’ll surely have it at the back of my mind that if I have to succeed, NO INTEREST (personal or group) should override NATIONAL INTEREST…’

Many more insightful comments abound in this book. The first stage of the project extended for the twenty weeks that the TGIC competition lasted.

The plan is to give back hope to the youth and to ensure that this hope stays. It is obvious that this plan has taken off on the right footing.

Phase two commenced with quizzes which took on a larger dimension than the social media. This became a show across different regions and will culminate in the grand finale where seven regional winners will compete for one million Naira and the honour of being dedicated ‘Nigerian Centenary Genius’ by the Presidency.

This project also highlighted the talents of ten year old artist; Ayomikun Omoyiola, whose painting ‘Peace in the midst of a storm’, done in acrylic paint and gouache on white cardboard, was presented to Hon Anyim, who named her ‘Peace Ambassador’.

She was commissioned to do another painting which she presented to President Jonathan, at the centenary celebrations in February.

It is indeed a breath of fresh air that a youth movement of this magnitude could be built with a followership of millions on social media. Yet for this reviewer, questions arise: will this collectively channeled focus deliver to the youth and Nigeria as a whole, what is due them? Will government take cognizance of and implement the many lofty ideas that these young ones so passionately tendered? Or will the gifts and exposure for the lucky winners suffice to quiet the rage in the polity- for a short while? Will our youths be able to hold on to belief in a motherland where hope itself can be more ephemeral than the winds of a harmattan morning?

Only time will tell.

234 is more than a country code

On the evening of May 1, 2014,  I tried relentlessly to call my sister's phone lines as anguish encircled my throat

 Another bomb had gone off at the park in Nyanya, where she would  normally board a cab home. And board a cab she did, minutes before the bomb went off.

As the call finally connected and I listened to Sister Esther recount how the blast had sounded so loud, anguish squeezed out hot tears which slid down my cheeks to my nightie; tears of relief and frustration. For a contraption that used to be a country, I shed tears for her nonexistent government.

#BringBackOurGirls

My country has been at war for the last three years, but this is a much-denied fact. Our tears are dried out, cushioned as we are in the familiar numbness that has set in. If you live in the south, the general feeling is ‘it happened to them, not us’.

That narrative changed with the Chibok girls. Somehow,  234 was no longer just our country dial code; it had become the code of blood. 

This abduction would not be another sad news that would get swept under the carpet of denial and levity where all the other killings and abductions had gone.

We became street and cyber activists convinced that if we made enough noise about the missing girls, our government would stop pretending that over 200 vulnerable girls were not kidnapped by a heartless extremist group.

I joined the protests and chanted 'We want our girls! Bring back our girls! Abduction must stop! Bombings must stop!' I marched in the sun and rain so that the world would hear of this atrocity and come to our aid.

Our conviction worked. The ‘bring back our girls’ hash-tag caught on like an infectious disease.

Yet, that night as news of a second Nyanya bomb blast scrolled through my TV screen, it felt like that was our collective punishment for daring to carry out worker’s day protests across the nation. But we were not deterred; even as the death toll rose.

One month after the abduction, America sent troops to help our army find the girls and flush out the enemy.

Between videos of BH telling the world they were sanctioned to sell the girls, and another showing the girls as new converts to Islam, then news of mutiny within Nigeria’s soldiers, to more news of the girls being ill and in different camps, this ugly drama keeps unfolding, and we struggle to make sense of the many twists.

So far, it has been 53 days of not knowing what those unstable elements may have done, and are still doing to the girls. More than enough time to lose faith in your country, yourself and life in general. How many of them will return, whole in body and mind?

Indeed when this war ends, how many of us will be left whole in Nigeria?