Wednesday, 30 May 2007
In a 100 years
Monday, 28 May 2007
IDOLS WEST AFRICA: Inspiring
Friday, 25 May 2007
FIGHT THE POWER
He is one of the few activist in Nigeria that I was familiar with, since I was a kid when he was in active duty. Since, I lived in Port harcourt, his name resounded during the Abacha era and in my house. He was an environmentalist, television producer, and author who was against the destruction and deprivation of the Ogoni land due to the oil exploration. He was executed under the Abacha government.
Chief Obafemi Awolowo who I must mention is from Ikenne Ogun State( where I am from), lead the action group. He believed in Nigeria's independence and nationalism.
Not forgetting greats like Nnamdi Azikiwe, Dele Giwa and so on who opened their voices, so that things could change positivelhy for the Nigerian society. The one way we can repay these people is continue their legacy.
Monday, 21 May 2007
The voyeurs in our midst
Oju
I could swear someone was behind that wall, piercing me with his eyes. The wind isn’t blowing
the way it is supposed to. Someone is interfering with it. I know that I am not seeing things, when
I see a silhouette cast on the steel ceilings. It is fleeting and acting like a shy bride that is meeting
her groom for the first time. But, don’t be fooled by that calm face and subdued eyes, those
talons strike like hunger.
“When will you stop staring at that cameras” Tolu burst out. I knew she was
disgusted by my loss of focus. She was whispering to me on her ravings on the
government. She spoke in a manner that I only heard her. No one certainly wanted those
venomous chameleons to hear us. Yet, Tolu told me, how she wished she could see a
butterfly again. She holds me close to her, tears trapped in her in sullen eyes. I knew what
she was thinking. She wished she could see our father again. I close my eyes; I sure did
not want everyone to see me cry. Not here! Certainly not in this ravenous gathering.
Those beasties are still staring at me, watching my every move. I certainly will not give
them the pleasure of seeing me cry. “We are on our own now” Tolu says. I nod my head
in agreement. It is funny how time can be so cruel. One minute I am sitting in the park
playing catch with my father and sister, the next two years I am here in this camp with
my sister. It never was really good anyway. But, it was far better than this. At least, I
could go anywhere, without being chased by these voyeuristic chameleons. My father
would open the newspapers, and rave all he wanted, but now, Tolu can’t rave openly
from newspapers. There are no newspapers, those things are constitutions. There’s no
freedom here, neither is there west. They came like wind and we all danced to their tune
like branches sway to spring breeze. “How did all these happen?” Tolu whispers
covering her mouth. I look at her with an empty face. She isn’t surprised either, she just
pats my head. I know we were all too greedy to see. That life was too perfect to refuse, at
least by our standards. No work, no struggle, we all lay on our backs. We were fed like
dogs owned by the elites. We were all blind to see what would befall us. Those
chameleons placed fear in our food. By this time it was too late, they were masters, and
we were slaves.
The chimes moan, as we all sit, expecting supper. We are all having soup. I know
that. In fact, that is what we have the days the chime rings thrice. The older people are
resting their backs to the walls. Their eye bags impregnated with grief. One would expect
that their skins would have gotten stuck to the walls. They stayed there all day. Even after
Tolu had come back from tilling the field with other adolescents, she still saw them there.
When I come back from the concentration schools, I still met them there. I guess that is
why they are tagged “reliant”, while Tolu and the rest “tiller”. Tolu hated to till the fields.
She would whisper to me, on how there is so much from the fields, but little for us to eat.
We all queued as soup was served.. I really didn’t know if it was tomato or mushroom
soup, it was just soup. I sipped the soup, not expecting my tongue to wallow in sinful
pleasures. This days,my stomach is of higher priority than my tongue. Tolu didn’t look
up, she kept gulping the soup. One of the older men stared into my eyes, while sipping
his soup. He didn’t look at his hands. He really didn’t need to look to steer his spoon, the
soup was cold. He looked at me and then stared at the cameras. “Oju” he blurted. He
looked down into his soup, like he was expecting a chunk of meat. He raised his head to
me and said “the eyes have ears”. After lunch, the chameleons took him. The executioner was sure to have a thrill tonight
Friday, 18 May 2007
DID YOU KNOW!!!
OMO
The night was drawing near. Its arms were soon going to embrace mother earth. Even the sun was no where to be seen. "This is our chance" she kept whispering to her baby. The faith she had was too strong that she spoke to a baby who was not only deaf from his inexperience with words, but also from the horrific sounds of war. Her legs kept swaying but her head had no idea of its destination. The baby fastened to her back was a burden. But, she cared less. After all, she was running for him. She was tired of that place. It wasn’t home any longer. The thought of her choice kept ringing in her ears. The thoughts clogged her ears, that she failed to hear the voice of the incoming mob. They were furious, each with eyes stinging with hate. They held their batons and spiked edged clubs ready to devour. She stood under the frangipani tree, watching the scarred chested men. Her face had no expression, it was vague. Even her eyes were lax in unconcern. She wasn’t moved my their masked expressions of hate. She had seen it all before. They yelled at her swinging their clubs and batons near her. She didn’t utter any word. Then, a man walked out amidst the crowd. He was stern looking with a tribal marked that traveled from the ridge of his nose to his jaws. He walked towards her with his face focused on her baby. She saw this and turned her back, so her baby wouldn’t see his face. He sensed this and smiled briefly. He surveyed her body like she was a map work. He walked around her mimicking the oblivious mosquito that spun around her baby’s head. She wasn’t a beauty, certainly, if he was to judge from now. But, he had so much experience with women as to see that she once possessed a striking beauty. Her sullen eyes and ridged lips could already tell her story. "Woman, where are you coming from and where’s your husband"he asked. She didn’t utter any word, neither did she look at him. She just kept staring at the red ground. The mobsters wondered what sort of woman wouldn’t reply their leader. "Aren’t you afraid" one of them yelled. She still didn’t answer. Her silence was too piercing for him to bear. She made him look too stupid for a man. Suddenly, he raged at her, grabbing her baby by his neck. She yelled and pushed herself from his grasp. The wrapper she used in fastening her baby to herself, flew off her dead breast.Her eyes were suddenly filled with tear soaked rage. She threw herself into red ground with her arms wrapped around her baby. The man stood watching her with shock and a masked pity. He swallowed very discreetly a lump of saliva . He didn’t utter any word but wondered what pain would befall a woman, for her to act in such a manner. The background noise from the mobsters rioted with the pity he had for this woman. He turned to them and yelled for them to be quiet. They suddenly stopped barking. He held his hands towards her. She didn’t move. He smiled at her in a peaceful way, revealing a set of tainted white and chipped teeth. She took his hands and he raised her up. The baby cried as the man tried to hold his arms. He was used to weeping at the sight of men. This was no different.
As she sat facing the burning and chattering fire wood, she wondered who the mobsters were. They were probably the freedom fighters who fought against the chameleons. The night had finally come. Its scintillating yet conniving arms swept through her skin, as she shielded it from her baby. It reminded her that she couldn’t stay in the same spot. The chameleons would get her. She had to keep on running.
I'm being read
Wednesday, 16 May 2007
BEST NIGERIAN MUSIC VIDEOS
When it had become the numb for Nigerian videos to be void of graphics, styl-plus changed the scene. Prior to this, most videos were with people singing in front of the beach, village setting and stuff like that. But the Olufunmi video changed the way music videos were made
Monday, 14 May 2007
NIGERIAN ENTERTAINMENT
Can't blame us, even in China and Japan, music is becoming more westernized.
Thanks to good Nigerian music that fostered the production of other good songs. Eg: Plantashun boys: brought rhythm and r n b into nigerian music scene...styl-plus -adding smooth r n b with nigerian language, who knew that could sound so good..p square-even if they are guilty for sampling other people's works without permission, they definitely deserve an appplause for fusing dance and hot steps into nigerian music. Lagbaja-for also making fela kinda music sound funkier and jolly. Kush for taking the bar higher. Femi kuti-big ups for making nigerian music international. As for videos, we are yet to make good videos to good standards, but we have to give it up to a few people.
Nayo- has a soothing and mesmerizing voice n she's beautiful