Sunday, January 8, 2012

Why I am occupying Nigeria


This is a rant, with which I aim to show how the governance of Nigeria has personally affected me and why I do not have faith in our so-called leaders.


I never expected that a time would come when I would have to explain why I am against the government that runs my country. This is because since I got old enough to analyse and understand what governance is all about, I have not found a Nigerian government that I can wholeheartedly say I am in total support of.

Even as a child, I saw many of the people that purportedly lead us for what they were—selfish men and women who are more concerned about the size of their bank balance than the diminishing returns that has characterised the country for years. From my first vote, cast in the 1999 presidential elections that brought in Olusegun Obasanjo, I have continuously voted against PDP and its band of nation wreckers. In other words, I have always been part of those that occupied the mindset that until we do away with PDP and any politician that have had lengthy involvement with that party, the nation will continue with the downward spiral.

I boldly stand this ground today, occupying and unwilling to back down, because the history of this country and my experience as a patriotic law abiding Nigerian is riff with examples of how insincere and roguishly criminal people in government can be.

As a child, visiting my grandmother in the foot hills of Obeagu, Awgu LGA, Enugu state, the songs of otanishi—a play of the word austerity using an Igbo word that loosely translates as head-biting, or a sting to the head, referencing the austerity measures introduced by the Shagari administration—was one of the lasting memories I took away. The refrain of “otanishi egbu’go anyi o, ka’anyi’changie shagari o, o ’iwe di anyi na obi, iwe!—austerity has killed us, let’s change Shagari, anger is in our hearts, anger” rings in my head to this day.

As a kid attending primary school in Kaduna during the heady IBB days, I still recall the much-vaunted structural adjustment program (SAP) and how it was supposed to only bite for a while, but the bite lasted longer than was promised and continues to this day.

Even though still just a child in 1993, I still remember with pride how my dad and his friends would argue endlessly about the merits of an MKO presidency and how SAP will finally be laid to a well-deserved rest. Well, what happened to that expectation is well documented and Nigerians continued the speculations of my father and his friends to this day.

For decades, I heard promises of reform that never materialised; promises of good life that still eludes us; promises of increased opportunity that goes no further than the vile mouth that issues them; promises of better education in the face of increasingly ridiculous and never actualised education policies, and can’t help but snicker at the promise of a coming magic year that constantly kept being officially moved forward as each one loomed.

While sitting on the floor, in primary school, listening to a teacher chalk away at the ancient blackboard in Army Children School New Cantonment “A”, I exactly believed that was how life was meant to be, that sitting on the floor is normal and that that it is our lot. I thought so, even though the Command Children School that shared the same compound, and which two of my siblings—using my dad’s old army ID and resultant quota—were fortunate to attend, had desks, better-dressed students who eat cake at break time and more teachers. I thought so because I felt Command Children School and others like it were for academically gifted children who needed more care than we do. Anyway, even the Command Children Schools of those days were not too much removed from us—aside from having more desks and those juicy cakes, yes I tasted them for my now late brother used to sneak into our zinc and wood classroom to share with me.

True we saw standard classrooms in the few movies we got to watch and in Sesame Street, but that was another life, one of fantasy, one that belonged to the TVs we escape to at 4pm. I also felt there was nothing wrong with there being two sections of the same school, one for morning, and another for afternoon. Yeah, Command Children School had only one morning section, but that was ok, they are more brilliant kids, they don’t need to go to school under the morning sun. Can’t remember much what I learnt in primary school, other than the best way to play dead during the game of police and thief. Mind you, I learnt to read and write from my father, who also taught me elementary mathematics, and much of what I know about maths to this day.

Secondary School was worse; I got to go to Government College Kaduna, a very popular secondary school renowned for its past glory because my father could not afford the better private ones that were just then beginning to spring up.

There, the sitting on bare floors was worse, especially with our uniform being white on white. We also had to go to school in the afternoon, at least those of us in the junior section had to. The memories I have of junior secondary school were of not having teachers and spending the day playing fives or shooting pigeons with catapults in the school’s extensive vegetation. Yeah, the chairs did come—think I was in JSS 2 then—from Buhari and other alumni. As for teachers, nothing changed until we entered SS 1, extremely under-educated and most barely able to string English words together without blunders. I must add that we had no teacher for mathematics and English the entire duration of our Junior Secondary miss-Education.

I was lucky; yes, I was, for I had inherited the love for books from my father and a fight, its resultant punishment and a kindly librarian who supervised the dusty task of sweeping the school library introduced me to a world far removed from the one I know. I began reading, garnered knowledge on my own and managed to make the best out of a very bad situation. I was not alone in this, and those of us who learnt anything from Government College Kaduna, did so on our own.

Then came the battle to enter university, a mighty struggle for us half-baked secondary school graduates. We struggled, paid for extra lessons and read until our eyes watered until the university doors opened and swallowed us. Back then examination malpractice in the form that it is today was the preserve of those who can afford it and you only steal from those you feel know more than you, unfortunately, I fell into the group that were presumed to know, so I didn’t get to steal from anyone.

My stay in the university was marked by increase in school fees. I got admitted in 1999 and paid N1600 (one thousand six hundred naira) as a fresher, by the time I left five years later in 2004, school fees was N17, 500 (seventeen thousand five hundred Naira). Math understandably never became my thing, so let someone else do the maths on percentage increase over a four-year period. I can’t recall how many strikes from the Academic Staff Union of Universities occurred while I was an under-educated undergraduate, but I know it was enough to add an extra year to my four course.

The story of how I eventually got a job and the struggles and anguish in between will be better told in the future, but the fact that as an editor of a magazine and with a salary many times over the recently reviewed minimum wage, I still find it very impossible to survive month to month. I don’t have vices and have learnt from my years of struggle to respect money, yet I can’t afford a tokunbo car on my salary or a house big enough for my family, not to talk of taking proper care of them.

I am a half-baked Nigerian graduate, all my life the Nigerian government has not shown it cared I exist or that I have a stake in this country they claim is ours. Therefore, until I am assured that my children will not pass through the same hard route I did to get here, I shall continue to occupy.

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Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Joint Communiqué of the Emergency Meeting of the National Executive Councils of the Nigeria Labour Congress (NLC) and Trade Union Congress (TUC) Held on Wednesday 4th January, 2012.




The National Executive Councils of the Nigeria Labour Congress (NLC) and the Trade Union Congress (TUC) took place today, Wednesday 4th January, 2012.

The NLC and TUC noted that:

The Presidency announced the removal of petroleum subsidy and adjusted upward, the pump price of petrol on 1st January, 2012 even when it claimed it was consulting Nigerians.

Due to this upward review of prices, the pump price for petrol is now selling for between N141 and N200 per litre nation-wide rather than N65. This prohibitive increase in price of PMS once again confirms the position of Labour that deregulation to this government means incessant price increase of a strategic product (petrol) that impact on cost of living, cost of production and the general well-being of increasingly impoverish Nigerians.

The immediate generalized negative impact of this price increase on transport cost, food, drugs, schools fees, rents, indicate that government is totally wrong to underestimate the impact assessment of the so-called  deregulation policy.

Due to the untoward hardship workers and other Nigerians are experiencing based on excessive increase in petrol prices,  there have been sporadic protests by Nigerians in at least 10 cities;

These protests, which are peaceful have witnessed the use of unprecedented force by the Police leading to harassment, intimidation, arrests and the murder of a protester.

There is a subsisting understanding between Congress and the Federal government in 2009 that removal of subsidy will not commence until certain conditions have been met. These include the fixing of all the refineries and building new ones, regular power supply, and provision of other social infrastructure such as railways and repairs of roads as well as eliminating the corruption associated with supply and distribution of petroleum products in the downstream sector of the oil industry;

After exhaustive deliberations and consultations with all sections of the populace, the NLC, TUC and their pro-people allies demand that the Presidency immediately reverses fuel prices to N65.  If the Government fails to do so, they direct that indefinite general strikes, mass rallies and street protests be held across the country with effect from Monday 9th January, 2012.

From that Monday, 9th January 2012 date, all offices, oil production centres, air and sea ports, fuel stations, markets, banks, amongst others will be shut down.

We advise Nigerians to stockpile basic needs especially food and water.

We call on all Nigerians to participate actively in this movement to rescue our country. The emphasis is on peaceful protests, rallies and strikes while refusing to be intimidated.  Labour calls on the police, armed forces and other security agencies to reject orders that they turn their weapons on fellow Nigerians.  We warn that anybody who does so, will be individually brought to justice.

The primary objective of this patriotic call and movement is to revert PMS price to N65, restore normalcy and reclaim Nigeria for Nigerians.

No Retreat!
No Surrender!!
Forward Ever!!!

Abdulwahed I. Omar                    Peter Esele
President, NLC                         President, TUC

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Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Badluck for Nigeria


As we trudge the streets, we bear this in mind. They do not feel our pain!!!

Africa: Benefiting From The Tablet Wars


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Light weight, portable, convenient, ultra-mobile and sleek are some of the adjectives that have been used to qualify the recent gizmo fad among techies -- the Tablet computer.  Tablet computers are a cross between a laptop and a mobile phone, offering all or some of the features of both devices.

Tablet devices, especially Apple’s iPad, took the world by storm and is presently the topmost must-have device among the business class and technologically perceptive individuals. Initially, with much of the tablet computers in the market selling for over $300, many who would have loved to switch to the new technology considered the price prohibitive.

However, with the launch of Amazon Inc’s Kindle Fire, which retails at a mass market friendly $199; most analysts have begun predicting a drastic fall in the price of tablets as competition heats up. Lower prices will ultimately lead to desirability-fuelled purchases, especially in the west where there is already very high penetration of smart phones and laptop computers.

In truth, much of the analyses around Tablet computer market performances have been done without recourse to the African market. As market projections focuses on the Asian, European, South American and US markets, not many people are looking at how much of an impact the pocket friendly Kindle Fire and its kind would have on the ever growing African Phone and computer market.

Jumping the technological divide

While the present market of tablet computers in Africa is centred on middle class professionals and business executives, there exists a vast market that decreasing prices will in time open up.

Thankfully, everyone is now aware of African mobile telephone revolution, which saw more people in the continent connected to telephones in the last decade than the whole of the preceding century.  Presently, Africa is unarguably the fastest-growing mobile phone market in the world.

According to statistics from the International telecommunication Union (ITU), with an annual growth rate of 65 per cent, Africa’s mobile telephone subscription grows at twice the global average.  The continent is also the first place where mobile connections superseded that of fixed line connections. The reason for this is not farfetched as prevailing financial downturn in many African states makes mobile technology a cheaper alternative to conventional telephone that requires telephone cables, poles and many other facilities to function. By adopting mobile technology, African states succeeded in not only making it easier for their citizens to access the pleasures of information technology, they also successfully bridged the information divide by jumping the large gap between it and advanced societies.

In Nigeria, South Africa and others, the progresses made as a result of mobile technology is immense and the potential market for mobile phones is still enormous, however, the question might be asked about the validity of claims that Africa may become one of the top market for tablets computers.  Respondents, looking at the status of the purchasing power of the average African, might answer in the negative, but with reference to the mobile phone and how easily the technology was adopted across the continent, a more positive answer would readily come to mind.

Power saving, portability are factors

Looking closely at the African market, one would find that given a choice between a laptop computer and a desktop computer, most tech savvy people would go for the laptop. Yes, portability is a catalyst, but so also is the fact that the laptop comes with a rechargeable battery that allows users to work for hours on stored power.

Power is still a very critical issue across the African continent and the nature of tablet computers, the fact that they have the power storage ability of the mobile phone and laptops, is a top selling point.

It is instructive to note that that same factor that enabled consumers in Africa to extensively adopt mobile phones would also play a part in the incursion of tablet computers. With the average tablet computer having more portability than any laptop computer in the market, while retaining all of the laptops ability, there is no gainsaying that fact that most buyers would consider it a better option than the laptop.

Therefore, it would make very good business sense for manufacturers to key into the African market and take advantage of the millions of users who are seeking a portable device that can grant them all the technology of the mobile phone and the laptop computer.

What to watch out for

Unlike what holds in the developed world, where desirability plays a greater factor in the tablet market than need, the African market is overflowing with first-time buyers for whom the choice would be a matter of price and practicability.

With 3G penetration still at a very low percentage across Africa, sensory and technological aspects of tablets need not be a major issue. It is a given that tablet computers may have to be tailor made for the African environment, especially by paying close attention to the following details.

Power: a longer lasting battery would be of great attraction due to the endemic power outages that remain the norm in many African countries.

Price: while it is true that many people across the continent are buying high-end phones, much of the population are concentrating on the more affordable entry-level versions, or buying second-hand phones imported from Europe, the Americas and Asia. For the ready market for tablet computers to be effectively harnessed, the prices of the device must be reduced drastically, even lower than Amazon’s low priced Kindle Fire.

Scaled down versions: reduction of prices might be a hard nut to crack for tablet computer makers who have had to invest a lot of resources on research and development, but like Amazon did with Kindle Fire, scaling down the devices by removing some features might do the trick. The key is the billions of people in Africa eagerly awaiting connection to telephone lines and consequently, the internet.

Specialised adaptations: while it may make sense to remove features that may be redundant in Africa, it also makes better sense to include practicable features. For example, Nokia reported that the inclusion of a flashlight, FM radio and local language options pushed sales of entry-levels in many African countries.

Though, at present, content might be overrated or negated by very slow internet speed, the berthing of more submarine cables and the connection of that to the growing number of fibre optic cables between cities in Africa means that will remain an issue for long. Something that manufacturers should pay heed to.

Most importantly, there is a need for manufacturers to commit recourses into researching the African market and coming up with advertisement policies that will better sell their products to the millions of potential customers in Africa, especially now that the question of whether there is a ready market for information technology in the continent have been answered.

By Mazi Nwonwu

Article previously published in Business in Africa magazine www.bizinafrica.biz


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Saturday, December 31, 2011

What's in a name?


First off, I stole this title from an article by writer, blogger and radio presenter Tosyn Bucknor. In said article, published in Guardian some years back, Miss Bucknor explored the strength of names, and how those endowed with instantly recognisable names, especially when said names carry a mark of fame or the fragrance of serious money, find locked doors opening with the ease obtainable from well-oiled hinges.
It wasn’t that Miss Bucknor put it in the way I just did, that is just my perculiar summary.

Anyway, I stole the title. I did so because it addresses very much an issue that bothered me for a long—the fact that I did not pay the right kind of attention to my identity and how the name I bear  takes away from who I am.

I was born Igbo, in a village health centre in the very small town of Nkwe, which nestles proudly atop a flat-topped hill in Anike, Awgu LGA, Enugu state, South Eastern Nigeria. My parents professed Christianity and as such saddled me with what they and the priests called “English Name”.

Here, English names have for long been regarded as of utmost importance if you are to be accepted into the fellowship of the brethren—something that is supposed to be the highest rank one can attain, and a mark of possessing the Christian faith. Therefore, to gain acceptance as a follower of Christ, as a baby I was christened with the German name Fredrick. Don’t ask me how a medieval German name became an English or Christian name—ask the church people instead. I am sure my mother did not know what the name meant and my father insisted for years that Alfred was what he asked the Catchiest to christen me with. This however, wasn’t an issue as my family, like many from these parts, cared little for the name after the church ceremony and called me by my native name Chiagozie—a richer, more endearing name than that German one.

I remember forgetting that my name was Fredrick until I began primary school (Kindergarten was a long dream only the very rich dreamt about in those days) and was asked to bring my baptismal card for age verification.

Suddenly I found myself answering to Fredrick in School and my native birth name—mostly its abbreviates, Agozie or Ago—at home. I must confess that as a child, I rather liked my “English” name and smiled at the prospect of being addressed thus whenever a friend visited me at home. I dreamt of dumping the native sounding Agozie entirely and adopting Fredrick, surnamed with a funkier anglicised version of my surname, for both school communal usage.

Thank the gods for getting older and finding emancipation. Now I see the folly of cleaving to a name that does not define me in any way. Yes, I found out in secondary school that Fredrick means peacefully ruler. I agree that I am naturally peaceful, but I do not rule over any kingdom, so go figure.

For a name, I believe one should cleave to that which best identifies his demography. Why should I, an Igbo man, contend with a German name. What has Germany done for my motherland or me. I do agree that in the future, if I meet a Fredrick that seriously impacts my life, I wouldn’t mind naming a son or grandson after him, but for now I can only Answer that question, WHAT’S IS IN A NAME?

EVERYTHING, I say.

That said, let’s bid farewell to Fredrick Chiagozie Nwonwu and welcome from obscurity Mazi Chiagozie Nwonwu. All former documents remain valid, general public note.
This is I getting real!
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