Jos burns again: so let the talks begin

Once again, like uncountable times in the past, the north is in the throes of ethno-religious crisis. As usual, the security agencies are caught napping and aside from accusations of complicity in the crisis, seem to be all thumbs, with little or no idea of how to handle the situation, besides its age-old ‘shoot on sight’ solution. 

In a previous article, written some years ago, I dwelled on the nature of the north and after examining the numerous crises I witnessed and luckily escaped, while living in the north, concluded that ethno-religious crisis and the north of Nigeria are Siamese twins that may forever remain conjoined, unless the drastic is done.

I warned then that the north would blow up again way before the Boko Haram clash and the first Jos affair. My forecast was not based on any form of prescience, but as a result of a brief study of the history of ethno-religious clashes in the north.

In the north of Nigeria, from Jos and beyond, the truth about Ethno-religious crisis is not if it would occur, but when it will occur, again.

Let us not be deceived, the fight is more ethnic than religious, it is more about land than which prophet is greater, it is ultimately more about the language of your ancestors than the language of any sacred text, it is more about political control.

This fight is about the rights of the individual to exist with all benefits that accrue to a Nigerian anywhere in this country. In Jos, the Hausa-Fulani is fighting for relevance. They could not get the control they sought through the ballot; hence, the resort to violence, something evidence over the years have shown them to have a large stock of – fuelled by large-scale poverty and miss-education, something this country have a large stock of. The so-called natives of Jos – the Birom et al – are fighting to hold unto what they say is ancestrally theirs.  

However, before we accuse the people of Jos of ethnic discrimination, let us remember that every Nigerian is guilty of this one way or the other. Many Nigerians will argue this point, countering that the Nigerian constitution grants liberty to every Nigerian, but when you think about the possibility of an Igbo becoming governor of, let us say, Lagos state, then you will really understand what is at stake.

I grew up in the north and can say without fear of contradiction that the Hausa-Fulani is as prone to bigotry as the Igbo, Yoruba or Birom. I recall the policy of indigenisation during my primary and secondary school days, which allowed for two separate sets of school fees, one for the so-called settlers another for the so-called indigenes.  I still laugh anytime I remember the name changes that many of my friends had to endure in other to benefit from the considerable lesser school fees meant for the so-called indigenes. I still recall the dropping of surnames and the adoption of perceived Hausa names by many of my Igbo and Yoruba neighbours just to belong to that class. It was as if being Nigerian was not enough, you have to be something else too, in this case a pseudo-tribesman.

I am not a lawyer and have not paid much heed to the Nigerian constitution (this will change soon), but it has always been my belief that people are indigenes of where they are born. That should be the standard, but Nigeria is a peculiar place with peculiar ways, uncanny most times, of interpreting the law. In Nigeria, you are an indigene of where ever your father/grandfather hails, whether you know that place is not of consequence; hence the dropping of names native to any tribe by those who want to be seen as indigenes their present domicile.

There lies the genesis of the problem in Jos, the Hausa-Fulani, having lived more than 150 years in the area, feel they should be treated as equals. They seek to wield political power, to have a say in how they are governed. While there is nothing wrong, fundamentally, with this desire, the peculiarities I mentioned earlier deny them this right, just as it denies millions of Nigerians every day.

As an Igbo man in Kaduna and now in Lagos, I cannot recall the number of times I have been reminded of my status as a visitor. I was a visitor in Kaduna, despite spending my first 22 years there before leaving because of the constant threat that hangs over the neck of any southerner in the far north and the constant, unconscious, seeking of fastest routes to an army or police barrack as Friday prayers wind up.  Though perceived as a visitor in Lagos, that fear of decapitation by a seething mob is gone, but not altogether, as I now endure fear of one chance and whatnot. Its naija, you are not really safe anywhere.

Yes, Jos burns, again, and will do so again. Just as many other trouble spots in the north will too unless we stop deceiving ourselves, continuously believing, perhaps hoping, after every blow up, that we have seen the last. Far from it, we will continue to see these crises until we wake up and admit that we need to rethink and rephrase the laws that hold us together, albeit loosely, as a country.

Let us look into the past and learn. Let us set far-reaching goals that will ultimately make us a greater country. Let us not fear change, for it is inevitable. I believe the solution is a simple one; it only needs a willing leader to get it done. Some say this is one crisis to many, I say it is the hundredth of many more to come if we do not address the root causes.

Let us sit together and answer the question that desperately needs an answer, “are we Nigerians first and members of a tribe second?”  Let us throw away this constitution if it is not working properly and draw up a new one that will guide us into the light we so seek, or if need be, grant it the muscle it needs to properly work.

 I say let the talks begin! Enough is enough!

PS

I wrote this stuff before the new year eve bombing in Abuja. as such, my arguments have changed a little since then.

Tale of the Siamese twins: the North and Religious crisis

If one takes the tedious time to research the numerous religious cum ethnic blow ups in the country, one will invariably arrive at the sad conclusion that more than ninety percent of these occur in the geographic north of Nigeria. Looking at a map marked with incidents of that nature in the last twenty years will reveal a gloomy picture of rage that turns this beautiful landscape red with innocent blood periodically.

Yes, the south has its own blowups but the frequency and scale of those of the north gives one constant goose bumps. Also, reason tells us that many in the south are offshoots of quakes in the north, where brothers seek out perceived tribesmen of the northern perpetrators in blood-lust induced violence that can only hurt the innocent.

My family lived through the horrors of the Matasine riots of the 1980’s (though one was then too young to understand the real story), the 1987 riots that claimed a big ECWA church opposite our house in Dutse Close Kaduna, the zango kataf crisis that spilled into Kaduna and other towns, with reprisal killings that felled not just southern Kaduna indigenes but also those of ethnic nationalities that were presumed alien; and during the sharia riots of 2000, We witnessed killings and mass muggings that forever tainted our minds -- the gruesomeness of butchered bodies, which became feasts for pigs and dogs for days following the incidents, and the helplessness of those that lost not just loved ones, but everything..

It was only later, at an older age that I came to understand the psychological impact of those gruesome early life sightings and the agony of having to live with constant fear. It took me years to relearn the humane act of flinching away from corpses, though an instinctive fear that warns caution still abides with me, especially when I am sojourning in the North.

Why the North?

I still seek answers to the same nagging question, WHY THE NORTH?

Yes, why do these crises always occur in one part of Northern Nigeria or the other? Why not in the southeast or southwest? Why must residents of Kaduna, Zaria, Katsina, Kano, Maiduguri, Jos etc submit to periodic carnages that alter lives forever? Why do they have to live in constant fear?

The answers to the questions above eluded me as a child and still elude me now. Some argue that it is in the genetic makeup of the Northerner to be violent; others still swear that it is within the tenets of the Islamic religion. I personally don’t agree with both as I have had close personal ties with Hausa Muslims who are as upright in their dealings with their fellow man as any Christian southerner can ever hope to be. More so, when I know that the average Hausa can stand at par with any tribe, anywhere in the world, when trustworthiness is called for – think that is why they are in great demand as security men in the southern part of Nigeria.

If blames are needed, I think a better scapegoat should be the poverty and disinformation by a minority of the otherwise well informed Northerners. I place my reasons solidly on the door of things I have seen and infallible facts.

On the other hand, if you would rather doubt the strength of my submission and deny that poverty plays the stronger role in these recurring crises, consider the fact that always, without fail, the Goverment Reserved Areas (GRAs) and other zones where the rich abode are spared the carnages. They usually don’t know that anything is happening, until they see in the News or, perchance, bump into the seething mobs in the streets.

Strange patterns

During the riots of 2000, I noticed a peculiar pattern that if looked into will check the damages to life and property that occur during these crises. If not for the swift nature of the crisis, my family would have gotten the usual advance warning from our Hausa neighbours. In this case the warning still came, too late for us to escape to the barracks but early enough for us to shelter in the homes of our Hausa neighbours until the tension cooled several days later.

These neighbours fed my family and several other families and even on occasion, physically prevented the mob from embarking on a room to room search for non-indigenes. Later on, my family moved – having lost the medicine store that feed us – into the home of an Hausa police man, a friend of my father’s, in the police barracks, where again they stayed for days.

It was during these trying times that I made a strange discovery that further strengthened my belief in the inherent good in humankind. Of the mob that was bent on taking our blood, not one face was even faintly recognizable. Later when those of us that survived the horrors met to trade survival stories, a pattern emerged. Apparently, even the mob found it difficult to attack those they know, be them Igbo, Yoruba or Igala, they instead moved to a part of town where the incident of them having to carry the death of a childhood friend on their conscience would be minimal. For example, those that attacked our area were Rumoured to have marched down from Badrawa and Angwan Sariki – both towns some kilometres removed – while those within our area either moved towards Abakpa or further on to Kurmi marshi.

It should not surprise the reader that some of the individuals that constitute these so-called savage mobs have one or two Christian families hidden in their bedrooms, away from danger.

This brings me to the government’s failings in times of these recurrent attacks. As a starter, I believe the government has never handled these crises with the kind of decisive force that will make them a thing of a very dark past that one should only read about in the history books. Granted, this does not happen only in Nigeria but one thinks it’s time we move into the league of enlightened nations that know the worth of an individual life, or must we be as savage as our fore fathers to prove our manhood to the women of our age. I think the greatest problem the government has is its seemingly disregard for the importance of localized information and usage of the available human and natural resources for a common good.

The carnage in Kaduna in 2000 lasted about three days, with mobs moving from one presumed Christian or Muslim (as the case may be) enclave largely unmolested by the unavailable police force. The major reason that particular crisis claimed more life and property than those presiding it is mainly because those who used to run when trouble calls, leaving their property to the mercy of merciless looters who usually burn what they cannot carry away, decided that enough is enough and stood their ground to fight for their possession, in the process destroying the heart of a town that had survived several blowups in the past. We thought it was all over, but like the calm within the storm, two years passed and in 2002, the hosting of a miss world beauty pageant gave reason for another fracas in Kaduna. One should not forget the Danish cartoon incident or the Maiduguri crisis and more recently that of Bauchi, Jos and Jos again.

Strange, I say, especially when the panel(s) of inquiry that is(are) looking into the Jos crisis are/is yet to sum-up their report, when we still hear of people seeking their missing loved one, when bodies, left in dark nooks, are still being brought to light. It gives room for bitter thought; it gives reasons to grieve for our generation. Then anger pushes one to ask a question whose reply is steeped in mild treason, should the North be left alone, to the Northerners?

Old history serves to point out the worrisome continuity of these mass killings which made a former governor warn that revenge killings may be the only solution to it.

Instead of deploying law enforcement officers as soon as the first blow is struck, the government usually plays a game of ‘let’s wait and see how far it will spread’ while angry and hungry Nigerians range the landscape on the lookout for anybody with a different tribal marking, religious affiliation or accent to maim.

The popular belief amongst the so-called non-indigenes in Kaduna is that the government and traditional rulers usually have a hand in most crises that occurs, pointing out the seeming disregard for prompt action by either.

A way out

If anything concrete can be done to check the occurrence and spread of these blowups, the law enforcement agents must be on hand in all the little Angwas that make up the towns in the North especially in those areas noted as trouble spots. It doesn't serve anybody’s purpose to keep soldiers in front of houses already looted and burnt for months following a crisis when such weren’t sent to nip the crisis in the bud and save the homes and lives of thousands.

In Kaduna, the division of the town into two sections of Muslim north and Christian south, bordered by the Kaduna river, seemed to serve a dual purpose, a ‘Berlin wall’ for safety and a line of fear that tells you, you are entering enemy territory and should be cautious. Though the government might go beyond denying any division and try to explain the benefits of it – if any exists -- the influx of Christian settlers from areas north of the river into this steadily overpopulating area and movement of Muslims northwards tells a bitter tale of intolerability.

If the bitter truth be told, no one really gains from these carnages. For example, the riots in Kaduna have forever changed the face of that once beloved city and I am sure those who grew up in Jos, Maiduguri, Katsina, Kano etc will agree that these cities lost much more than years can ever replace to the crises that rocked them to their bedrocks.

I know every war has its heroes and its villains but the villains in this tale are not really those who lift their hands to kill, and loot but the veiled faces behind them who put the perpetrators into bloody motion.

Words of caution

To those southerners who must visit the cities of the north, and they are all worth seeing; if for nothing, for the beauty that generations of town planners bestowed on them and for the historical buildings and architecture that abound therein, stay away from things that might cause friction like:

Religion – no matter who you are with don’t discuss religious dogma with a Muslim unless you know what you are talking about, and can keep within the safe bounds (most southerners in the north know this).

Alcohol – drink only at places designated as alcohol areas like army barracks and Christian quarters.

Religious books – do not rough handle a Muslim book in any indecent way as this might be construed as desecration -- most free spirited Christian fall into this trap and become victims of the fanatics that are always around the corner. Recall the young lady that lost her life to her students a few years in Yobe state for allegedly desecrating the Holy Quran.

Above all, try to make friends with an educated indigenous Muslim who can and usually will tell you of things to avoid, warn you away from trouble and explain your mistakes to any ill tempered person out to fight God’s battle – this is another major difference, most Christians tend to see religion as a personal business with the creator while many Muslim tend to see it as general movement that involves not just the individual but those around him, they are willing always to stand up to what they see as God’s right. Killing and dying for these ideals are not far-fetched for the willing.

Finally, the average northerner is friendly and easy to get along with. The towns are accessible and easier to live in than most cities in the south and housing is generally affordable (I pay 70 thousand for a one-room apartment in Oshodi while a friend pays 50 thousand for a two bedroom flat in Kaduna – he still says it’s exorbitant).

N/B

I wrote this piece two years ago, at the height of another the intermittent clashe in the North. It was not my desire to end the year on a sour note, but one finds it hard to turn away from the carnage that have become synonymous with Northern Nigeria. With my first hand experience, I know the solution, but would the government be able to implement this? That the question most Nigerians ask, without hope for an answer. May the souls of those that died find rest.

Behind the Painted Faces

I had been in her room for 30 minutes, inhaling the sweet, lavender flavoured scent that intermittently wafted out from the electronically operated air freshener on the far wall.

Having spent that long holding back a need to empty my Gordon Sparks distended bladder, I requested to use her bathroom. As she pointed towards the door, a glint of something, perhaps unease, flittered past her eyes; more intent on answering nature’s call, I didn’t dwell on that.

It was only when I entered the well appointed, pink tiled bathroom that I began to understand that brief look of hers. Arranged in an order that I, the cosmetic novice, would never understand, were rows of bottles, tubes and palates—enough cosmetics to keep a little corner shop in business for long while.

Through with my nature call, I moved a little closer and my awed eyes flowed past a hundred names. Now, they were not in singles, as each brand name found expression in powders – cakes and conventional, lipsticks, lip-glosses, eye shadows, hair relaxers, hair treatment creams, conditioners, hair sprays, deodorants, perfumes and hair removal creams. Some I could understand; even explain, but the ones that lined a lower, somewhat hidden shelf, defied grasp. Prominent among them was a L’Oreal breast lifting gel, two brands of tummy tightening creams, a buttocks firming cream, a face lift cream.

There were more, tucked further back in the shelves and peeking from the corners of bags hanging from hooks, by the side of the same overstocked shelf. Wow! I was really impressed.

I went back to the room, now knowing the look I had received earlier, to meet a stoic faced friend, who couldn’t help but act like I had caught her stealing meat from a pot of egusi. I knew deep within me that the low-keyed conversation that followed had a lot to do with what I had seen and this got me pondering on the battle she endures to look better everyday

What is it about today’s women and the need to coat up everything with layers of cosmetics?

What happened to the conventional dab of power and touch of lipstick?

Clear answers elude me, but I can sniff hints from the women I see on the streets every day, looking like art pieces on an abstract canvas. What with the way they match up colours and re-invent the natural lines of the face. Geniuses, I called them, but that was before I stumbled into every woman’s secret in my uptown lady friend’s bathroom. Artists they might be, but their art is fakery, superimposed upon a canvas – their faces – better appreciated in its natural state.

I admit to being unapologetically old school, especially where it concerns female beauty. I do not believe that letting my woman experiment with any new fad and accompanying her to salons, spas and whatnot identifies me with women’s’ lib; there are better ways to cut that, I think. Perhaps if women really knew what men want, they would save themselves the stress and money it takes to look like the modern woman.

We, even those modern-thinking brothers my female friends are wont to compare me with, like those lipsticks sparse. Why, because it saves us those embarrassing smudges that tell tales we’d rather keep to ourselves. I am yet to meet a man that understands the need for those coloured eye shadows that women tend to wear, sometimes matching shoes, wristwatches, clothes and even the colour of their cars.

Consider the mini supermarket in my friend’s bathroom. One might understand the need for some, less physically endowed persons, to maximise their looks through application of cosmetics, but that is hardly the case with our babes, as use cuts across all strata.

I have seen the ridiculous, the humorous and the downright stupid; facial paints that can easily compete with the greatest works by Da Vinci and others that remind one of the worst of Hammer House of Horror – those ones that make you want to run and hide when you encounter their bearer at night. What about those fillers – they call them foundation – used to patch up every foreseeable smudge. Walahi, a well-heeled modern woman carries around, on her body, more chemicals than NNPC can readily identify.

I know our ladies will never agree to toe this line, I mean, give up on this drive to cosmetologise (na my gift to oyinbo language, leave am dia) their existence – well, that’s how I explain the craze – but the plea is for them to simmer it down, at least.

As I remarked to my uptown lady friend, you mustn’t all be artists and panel beaters to look good, joo.

Published in 234next.com on December 12, 2010

Georgia’s Land Gift To White Farmers, What Implication For South Africa?

Recently, South Africa's 41,000 white farmers (approx. 150 thousand people), mainly Boers – descendants of Dutch settlers, unhappy with the South African government’s land reform program, said they are moving to Georgia, which offered land to them at giveaway rates. Boers were shown on Georgian TV in late August 2010 signing a memorandum of cooperation between the Georgian government and the Transvaal Agriculture Union (TAU). The main point of the memorandum is the offer from Georgia for Transvaal farmers to move and transfer their agricultural businesses to Georgia. Georgia’s State Minister for Diaspora Affairs, Papuna Davitaya, says that Georgia is ready to receive all the white farmers of South Africa, give them free land and simplify obtaining all the necessary documents. The Boers are to reciprocate by engaging – like at home – in wine production and animal husbandry. On the surface, the Boers relocation to Georgia might be seen as nothing short of an economic decision, that of business men going where the profits is, but the reasons are more fundamental than that. Since the end of apartheid, South African whites, previously privileged, have had to live under what is now been referred to as ‘reversed discrimination’, which they say is driven mostly by the country's Black Economic Empowerment scheme or BEE designed to encourage employers to hire blacks workers over more qualified whites. The BEE is a form of affirmative action designed to balance out economic empowerment in the former apartheid nation by creating equal opportunities between blacks and whites. Whites say BEE is discriminatory and takes jobs away from qualified white youths, but the ANC government argues that the whites benefited unjustly from the educational system of the apartheid era, which was greatly lopsided in favour of whites. The contentious land reform program – a part of the BEE program – aims to redistribute lands to landless blacks under a land reform process, which, the government hopes, would eventually correct a land ownership imbalance that concentrates over 85 percent of arable land in the hands of about 41, 000 Boer farmers. Currently the South African government operates a ‘willing-seller-willing-buyer arrangement’, but a growing number of black elites – most vocal of which is Julius Malema, the controversial leader of the Youth wing of the ruling African national Congress – the ANCYL – and liberal whites, are advocating a land redistribution scheme similar to that of Zimbabwe. White South Africans point to Malema’s kind as reasons why they feel unsafe in South Africa. Many believe attacks on white farmers stem from statements from hardliners like Malema. They say their lives are getting harder every month, citing fears of crime, violence, labour costs and land reform. They are living in fear, enough to willingly give up the sunshine of South Africa for Georgia's bitterly cold winters. "Land is available in Georgia, but the Government knows that it only has small scale farmers who don't have the skills to be commercial farmers," said Bennie Van Zyl, head of the TAU, "It realised that in SA we have a lot of skilled, capable workers but a government that is no good for us. The biggest problem we face is rural safety - farmers are being killed in their beds and that is not something we are proud of," He added. However, beyond the racio-political undercurrents that had likely triggered the move, the rainbow nation’s economy will definitely be the worst for it. The white farmers dominate the commercial agricultural sector of the economy. It is estimated that more than 8 000 commercial maize producers, mostly whites, are responsible for the major part of the South African crop, while thousands of small-scale producers produce the rest. The migration of these farmers may further worsen the declining food production in South Africa. Although the country has the ability to be self-sufficient in virtually all major agricultural products, the rate of growth in exports has been slower than that of imports. The only increase in agricultural export volumes occurred during the period of exchange-rate depreciation in 2002 and came to about nine million tons (mt). The fears for the South African economy in the wake of an exodus of Boer farmers seem to count for something to the TAU. Mr Van Zyl says, "We've been asking the Government what will happen to the economy if commercial farmers leave for a long time - 10 years, in fact - and they don't want to listen. They make it into a racial issue - black against white. But it's nothing to do with that. In South Africa, we don't get any subsidies from the Government. In Georgia, it's different. If you need running water on your farm, it's the Government's responsibility to provide it." There is also, what many Boers see as a lack of willingness on the part of the black farmers to do much with the land they get from the redistribution process. There are several cases of repossessed farms falling into ruin as the farmer concentrates more on subsistent agriculture, neglecting commercial farming, which has for decades being one of the mainstays of the South African economy – a point the Boer farmers are wont to stress. It is however hoped that instances like this will get rarer as farm hands that successfully worked with Boers get access to arable lands. Already, a Boer farmer, William De Klerk has received Georgian citizenship – the first of a probable 150,000. “The idea of the Georgian government to bring the farmers here is very good. They can contribute a lot to Georgia. The situation in South Africa is getting worse every day. If Georgia will guarantee the personal safety of Boer farmers and their property, then this initiative will have great success “- says De Klerk. Van Zyl, seem to agree: “Every farmer must decide whether or not he will go to Georgia. Here (in South Africa) our main problem is the security. Since the black majority came to the government, more than 3000 farmers have been murdered. Often even the police take part in the attacks. We do not know if we will have any land left. We have great experience and we are well known on the international market. ” he said. Speaking on Georgian TV, Van Zyl said that the South African government is forcing white farmers give away 30% of their land to the blacks, but black farmers do not produce anything and do not want to produce. The South African government disagrees with the claims of gradual genocide by the Boers. However, white South Africans insist their claims are not far-fetched and official records agree that close to 3000 whites have been killed since the end of apartheid. It may be instructive to note that South Africa is renowned for its violent crimes – Alana Bailey from the white advocacy group AfriForum, says crime is the main reason whites are leaving. On average, about fifty people, black mostly, are killed every day in South Africa – and the history of racial discrimination is still too fresh in the minds of adult South Africans for clashes to be surprising. Still, most whites believe they are more prone to attacks than blacks because of their skin colour, countering the position of analysts who believe most of the attacks, on people of both races, were motivated by extreme poverty among black South Africans, many of who believe the whites are responsible for their plight. Eugene Terreblanche Georgia seems not to care much for the politics involved in the move.  As he welcomed the delegation from South Africa Mr Davitaya said, "We are looking for investors in our agricultural sphere, because Georgia historically always used to be an agricultural country but in Soviet times we lost these traditions." "Boers are some of the best farmers in the world," Davitaya added. Georgia hopes that importing farming expertise will boost the country's agricultural and wine sectors. Political dispute with Russia – where Georgian wines had a ready market – led to banning of all imports from Georgia. A success of the current scheme would benefit Georgia, which is hoping to reap from the success of South African wines. Another Boer farmer, Piet Kemp, who is keen to emigrate, said, "We will start with 10 or 20 farmers, but I think there could be more than 1,000 farmers who could make a good life in Georgia." However, the move is not without its critics. The Georgian opposition politicians are already complaining that the new arrivals will get the best lands at knockdown prices while Georgian farmers are ignored. In South Africa, there is unease at the economic impact of the possible relocation of some the country's best farmers and what this portend for the future of Africa’s biggest economy. Analysts argue that though Boers farmers do not hold any rightful deeds to lands obtained under a flawed Apartheid era law that prevented Blacks from owning land (The Native Lands Act of 1913 prohibited the establishment of new farming operations, sharecropping or cash rentals by blacks outside of the reserves), the government should operate a gradual repossession policy that will not alienate the white farmer. More subtly expressed is the belief that the Boers are not really going anywhere, at least the majority of them, but are just making political statements, to shock the government into easing off on the controversial land reforms. Mr. Van Zyl said he hopes news of Georgia's offer will make President Zuma sit up and listen to the needs of white (Afrikaner) farmers. "We want to stay here, this is our country ... but to stay is not possible for us anymore unless something changes - and soon." He said. A position that some analysts believe will not make much headway, as most South Africans believe Zuma to be not just a populist, but also a statist, Hence there is a great temptation to redistribute some white-owned farmland. Though strong reasons abound to fear the aftermath of the relocation of some of South Africa’s more experienced farmer to other lands, there is however hope of a reversal. Bridgette Lightfoot of Homecoming Revolution, who lived abroad for many years, returned to last year and believes South Africa has plenty to offer whites and is encouraging them to follow her example and return home. She says, “I myself have lived overseas for six years and I've been back for eight months and we really don't feel that there is this racial prejudice against white people. We think it's a wonderful country, we there's a lot of opportunity for people of all colours, and we encourage those people who want to make a difference and return home to do so.”

Of trusty old-timer-writers, Celebrities reading Africa and the question of writers camaraderie

His abode was Spartan, though not overly so. The low, old styled chairs – some wood, others possibly wrought Iron – and the ancient shelves teeming with sheets of paper, made it needless for me to wait to see him scribble – something he did intermittently throughout the hour I spent with him – before identifying him to be scholar.

He was old, possibly way into his 60’s or early 70’s, but his voice still retained a solid timbre that I wondered at but fully understood when he smiled boldly at my proud “I am a writer” retort to his question about my vocation.

“Aha!” He had happily exclaimed, “A colleague of the pen, I should have known you from your inquiring eyes, not to mention that jotter you are grasping and the pen poking out of your shirt pocket.”

I smiled back at him, holding his still very sharp eyes that brimmed with not just intelligence but also a knowledge fountain that I would not mind drinking from. “You write sir?” I asked foolishly, for want of something better to say in the face of an enigma.

Understandably, he screwed up his face at my awe. “Yes I do, was with Daily Times in its hay day, still dabble as you can see.” He held up a sheet of paper on the table, turning both sides to show it was covered with scribbling, “Yes, I still dabble, you know how it is, once a writer always a writer.”

I nodded my head, agreeing while praying silently he does not ask me to demonstrate my meagre skill. He didn’t. He turned, still smiling, to the lady that accompanied us to see him. No problem, he said, a writer, I can trust.

Simple words, yet they touched me deeply, enough that I felt the beginning of a tear. Here was a man still holding fast to a camaraderie I am only beginning to understand. Just like an old soldier warming to a young serviceman, this old timer was willing to overlook every other aspect of my person because of a shared passion.

We had actually gone to view a vacant room in an ancient storey building somewhere in Surulere. The agent had informed us after we agreed to other terms – exploitative, as usual – that the only remaining hurdle was the owner, renowned for his selectiveness. We were given a 50-50 chance of getting the room, even with the help – paid– of a woman said to be his favourite tenant.

Now, there was I, to the surprise of every one, with barely a few words, receiving the old timers good will and declaration of trust.

Anyway, we left the old man to his Spartan home and lifestyle a few minutes later, but not after I had agreed to return often (the room was for a friend) and talk about the “art” with him. His handshake, when he bid me goodbye, was surprising firm and warm. I am sure you know we got the room, so no need to dwell on that.

My tale about the old timer is digressive. I was actually on my way to a HIV and AIDS themed edition of my recently found craving, the Celebrity Read Africa project and only branched to Sulurere at the behest of a house-seeking friend, who was counting on using my persuasive skills, as she calls it, to her advantage in the house negotiations.


As I once again resumed my journey to the Island, I pondered my encounter with the old journalist, I wondered if we, the writers of today, have not lost that sense of belonging readily seen in our fore runners.

It was not the first time I have had cause to ponder on the issue. I also had cause to do so while sitting as part of a panel discussing futuristic writing at the recently held Lagos Book Fair. I had looked down on the audience, made up mostly of writers in their twilight years, from the national theatre stage and wondered if we have not actually demarked ourselves into age grades. I mean, why is it that at certain literary events young writer abound, while in others, the old timers hold sway? Are we, young writers, not losing too much by this lack of interaction? Are they, the old timers, by not associating with the young writers, not leaving life changing stories untold?

It would be rascally of me not to excuse the elder writers here, because in our society the young seek out the old not the other way round. If we, young writers, do not seriously seek out and pay the necessary homage to our forerunners, learn from their experience and tell the stories they could not finish, we are doomed to get serious knocks from posterity.

Meanwhile, I arrived late to the event I was headed to, on account of my ‘branching’. I entered the Terra Kulture library just as Tosin Jegede was rounding off her reading. Looking around quickly, I could see that most of the headlined celebrities showed face, a great improvement from previous events. I think the organisers have finally found their mojo and are using it right.

It was about 4:30 pm and the event was already in top gear, no sign African timing, the usual suspect – aside from me sha, but I have already explained myself.

A brief look to the front of the room showed Essence, Modele – of the Makeba style headgear, Chude Jideonwo and Myne Witheman – who I was looking forward to meeting (doesn’t her colour become her?) – completing the headliners list. Missing in action were Tosyn Bucknor, Segun Odegami and Tosin Otitoju.

The sight of school kids in their colourful uniforms sitting prominently in the packed hall was heart warming. Finally, the core ideal of Celebrity Read Africa was being met, I thought as I sought for an elusive seat to rest my sweaty frame on.

After some serious looking, with help from a friendly usher, I spotted an empty seat and made my way towards it. I was just settling down when I noticed Nze Efedigbo, a fellow writer, seated two rows in front of me, finally, a known face in a sea of faces. A brief look around revealed several other known faces – people I had met at previous literary events and others, not so well known to me, but possessing faces I had come across online in writers' circles. Suddenly it dawned on me that by virtue of my inclination, if not talent, I have come to know those who are arguably the future of Nigerian literature, only not well enough to do more than smile when our paths cross. There and then, I made up my mind to fight against my shy nature which usually keeps me from going over to introduce myself to people I have had cause to exchange ideas with online. I will, I decided, greet as many people as I can today.

My decision played out well, as I easily shrugged away my habitual shyness around strangers and moved around the room like someone on a mission greeting those whose paths has crossed mine before and the odd stranger, but that was after the event closed.

Before then Chude read a Tolu Ogunlesi short story that was consistent with the day’s theme of HIV/AIDS. After him came Christine, winner of Nokia first chance reality show, who I have heard a lot about but yet to hear sing. The beautifully petit lady did more than sing, she spoke eloquently about the personal experience of her friend who was infected with HIV by her fiancé. It was so touching how she told of the fiancé committing suicide out of regret, while the lady in question later died, but not from HIV. She, for me, brought the message home, after which she went on to sing so sweetly. I for one will buy her album the very day it drops, even if she toes Tuface’s 1500 Naira per copy line.

However, Christine’s performance brings me to the question of Nigerians and acquired accents that have no regional base, but that will be talk for another day. For now, she can sing for me any day, no leles.

Chiedu Efeozu, whose reading I have not heard for a long time, delivered another of his usually well thought out poems right after Christine. Then another musician, Jodie, of the West African Idols fame gifted the gathering a soul stirring song “up above my head” that got most people nodding along.

Finally a young poet, Noble, wrapped up the days performance with a poem about the state of Nigeria and the way forward. Like I said before, I got to the event very late and as such missed most of the readings.

Unlike the last edition, I did not feel the pulse of the interactive session that followed, though a witty and sound minded Essence did much to liven it up, while inputs by Myne Whiteman, Modele, Chude, Tosin Jegede and members of the audience were quite interesting. Me I was already beat, and a little pissed at the young ladies serving energy drinks for missing my row.

High point for me was meeting Myne Whiteman and getting her to sign a copy of her book for me, was sad though as I didn’t get to ask her how it feels to be a published writer and getting the recognition she has obviously worked for. Still, I did what I promised myself to do, mix with fellow writers.

It was quite early, but my phone kept ringing, another busy bodied friend wanted me to grace another of our blue moon dates. I left the venue like always, on a boxer motorcycle, grateful for the old-timer that gave me further reasons to remain on this path. Yes, a writer I can trust.