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Nothing in life is worth fighting for. Your best dress is someone’s rag. Your account balance is someone’s donation at a function. Your girlfriend/boyfriend or fiancé/fiancée’ is someone’s ex. Every single prostitute you see in a hotel or on the street at night was at some point in time a virgin. So, what is the squabble all about?
Life is too small to feel bigger or better than anybody. We’re all naked to death, says Steve Jobs. Nothing can save us from it.
I hate to see people who brag about wealth, beauty, intelligence, level of education, fame and material possessions (and power).
There’s nothing you’ve achieved in life that no one else has never gotten. There’s only one thing that is worth bragging about, which is “BELIEVE IN GOD ALMIGHTY”. So, BE GOOD TO YOUR FELLOW MAN AND ALWAYS MAKE FRIENDS.
Always remember that the people you trampled upon on your way up a ladder would be the same people you’re likely to pass on your way down. So, cause no problem for others because, if you do, they’ll become your problem someday.
Finally, even banana stems will one day become dried leaves. Please, don’t be selfish, pass on to friends, as we’re all in one way or another guilty.
If one day you feel like crying, call me. I don’t promise to make you laugh but I can cry with you. If one day you want to run away don’t be afraid to call me. I promise to be there running beside you. But if one day you call me and there’s no answer, come to me; perhaps, I need you.
One day, one of us will not be here and then it’ll be too late to say, ‘I care’. Tears may flow, but I will be long gone. So, forward to everyone you care for – I just did!
Yes, I just did. I got it from an unknown source and could not resist forwarding it to you.
We live in confounding climes where money and power are gods. We defraud people of their hard-earned money and brag about our hit while the poor victim starves or is driven to suicide. We litter our garages with choice automobiles, with choicer babes at our beck and call.
We want to be billionaires. However, unlike Frank Edoho’s popular television show, ‘Who wants to be a millionaire?’ we don’t like one.
Perhaps, because we want billions instead of millions, we need to make a higher sacrifice. Sadly, ours was unusual. Not the sacrifice of hard work or supplication unto God. Rather, we seek to appease the god of Mammon and power.
A dead god made relevant by deceptive shamans steeped in primitive and inhuman dealings. So, the priest of Mammon feasts on our vulnerability, and snares us with spurious promises to make us as rich as Aliko Dangote, Femi Otedola, and Tony Elumelu combined.
Lazy fools, we never reckon with when Dangote took off with a small seed capital borrowed from his uncle. We don’t reckon with when smart Elumelu was a penny-pinching staff of a bank and worked his ass threadbare till he used Standard Trust Bank (STB), a David, to swallow the United Bank of Africa (UBA), one of Nigeria’s goliath banks. We also ignore the days when Otedola just hustled, selling diesel and caring for garments at his laundromat. Now all we see is their glory and glamour, and we drool enviously, ignoring the foundation.
Without thinking, we embrace the fiendish proposition of the chief priest of Mammon and fickle power.
The twin love of money and power has made our society mad and crippled this country. That is why, in both high and low places, people clink glasses of blood, toasting ephemeral success. However, Dame Patience Jonathan’s lamentation still rings a bell: ‘This blood you are sharing, there is God o!’
Across the streets of Imo, and Nigeria, is an overflow of greedy and avaricious men who rule the waves. We have scavengers everywhere, lurking in the wings in the corridors of power like vultures about to devour the carcass of a dying country.
Never was such savagery ever recorded in history that a country as blessed as Nigeria would be cursed with wantonly profligate rulers who are imperial kleptomaniacs. They are so schooled in the art of sleaze that they have no other identity.
If I were a scientist, I would wish to put the brains of our political leaders under a microscope and do a thorough study to ascertain if blood flows in there and whether they have corruption in their genes and DNA.
As a history student in secondary school, I remember the scramble and partition of Africa. I remember how the thieving Europeans tore the soul of Africa to shreds among themselves and pillaged all that the continent had for their own good.
Today, they tread on Africa like scum whereas they owe all their assumed glory to a deprived Africa. They even told us that Mungo Park discovered River Niger, as if the people living there then did not know about the river. We believed them anyway. Just the same way we believe the lies of our politicians whose spell we seem incapable of casting off our brains.
These politicians have since discovered our gullibility and foolishness like the oyinbo did and convinced us about their balderdash. They have successfully partitioned Nigerians across dubious party lines as the oyinbo did in Africa. They have twisted the minds of our sons and daughters and sold them into slavery, making them thugs, killing one another while the sponsors of this violence sit cozily in their palatial homes, popping champagne.
Why must I kill you, my brother, for the joy of our common oppressor? Let us pause and ask for the whereabouts of their own sons and daughters. Their offspring are never at Freedom Square on the day of protest when they let loose their goons to afflict us. Because they are already free, courtesy of their fathers.
Let us ask if we were born for street wars whereas their children are pampered in choice cities of the world. Let us ask why their children never trudge the scorched earth under the sweltering sun in search of elusive jobs because milky jobs are already reserved for them even while in kindergarten.
Do you not think we are foolish, believing that any of these politicians loves us any more than the rest? But for very rare exceptions, their purpose is the same; they want to lord it over us and snitch our common patrimony for themselves by sleight or might.
Of course, we have prayed for a change but whether the change has come or is coming is dancing in the wind. Let this misdirected conflict end. This is not about any party or party man or tribe; it is all about the soul of Nigeria.
The Independent National Electoral Commission, INEC, has transmuted into an unofficial political party in alliance with the ruling party and has failed to explain how a bathing woman was caught in its server. Like David caught Bathsheba in his torrid server and killed her husband to have a poke into her honey pot, has INEC not left a murderous cut on the neck of Nigeria?
Even the wobbly judiciary has become an extension of the executive arm of government and incinerated the hope of the common man.
Everywhere is heated up. Now we know that the behemoth called Nigeria is made of wax and melting. Soon, all shall come to naught if not remedied.
The worst ‘ojoro’ is when one plays himself a game and is paid by an enemy to commit suicide or murder, which is what political foot soldiers are doing daily without knowing it.
In Imo State, both the perfect victor and the vanquished are in grievous mourning, as more innocent blood is shed upon the coarse and decrepit roads.
So, what’s worth fighting for, or dying for, or mourning for in a country long fleeced of conscience?
Nevertheless, there is hope in the onrushing time when money and power shall fail, and both the rich and the poor, the weak and powerful shall meld. Weep not, brother. Soon, the great leveller shall bring us all together, naked and shorn of ephemeral braggadocio.
