Month: June 2014
AN OPEN LETTER TO MY COUNTRYMEN III.
Dearest Countrymen and women my apologies for the interlude, I took an unannounced leave of this missive to do A TRIBUTE TO THE CHILD WITHOUT A CHILDHOOD on Children’s Day (May 27), on our ‘Demon-crazy Day’ (May 29) I did the FIFTEENTH ALP OF CRAZINESS and a rejoinder to Zik Zulu Okafor’s work on the need for studied appraisal of issues, mine was captioned OF PSEUDO LEARNING AS A COLLECTIVE HANDICAP. Alas I’m back with Part III of my treatise to you my esteemed compatriots.
As the night of long knives sustains, as politricktians continue to play politricks with our collective destiny, as the pervasive insecurity in the land plays second fiddle to the politics of 2015, as the fate of our Chibok daughters remain on the tenuous wire of politics and blame game, as everything appears subjected to the prism of religion and politics, and as the rule of anarchy prevails, we MUST hasten to detach ourselves from the Shenanigans of politicians.
We MUST remember that strong as religion is that the cardinal injunction of FAITH is to love your neighbour as yourself, Christians, Muslims and Traditional worshipers alike. We MUST distance ourselves from all those who make religion the summum bonum of political thought. We MUST insist on politics for the common good and on religion as ones personal intercourse with ones God.
We MUST make political avowals predicated on religion Shibboleth and tell men like Femi Fani-Kayode whose reason for political prostitution is the religious that we live in a progressive world where governance for the good of the hoi polloi defines democracy. And we MUST tell those who are in cahoots in looting that like their game is indiscriminate of their religious differences we cannot and are NOT deceived.
Countrymen a good man/woman is so because of personal choice and love for both God and man, those who politic with religion are NOT so.
AN OPEN LETTER TO MY COUNTRYMEN IV.
Countrymen I have been unequivocal in my critique of the political class and their Shenanigans but most sour is the proclivity of some office holders to take us for fools. I have particularly said that this ‘demon-crazy’ thrives on a Bazaar of thieving and a barter of looting, Obot Akpabio of Akwa Ibom and his Pensions Law confirms same.
They obviously do not care about the nation. Akpabio and his fellow travelers on the path of infamy are totally self-centred, like his politrickcal goons they embezzle billions from our collective till whilst in office, and they legislate a continued grip on our treasury after they leave power.
We suffer from intellectual fatigue and lethargy such that some of us complain that we talk too much, some say we are too critical of government and some say that we should take it easy.
Compatriots we must realize that no critique of ill-rule is too much. We must realize that the more we talk the more we recruit disciples of change. We must realize that the message (talk) must precede the movement (action). We must realize that it is the tranquilizing drug of gradualism (take it easy pill) that brought us to this sorry pass. And we MUST accept the fact that governments at all level has shortchanged the people, that way we can reawaken a radical spirit in the Nigerian mass such that a new paradigm of leadership that is responsible and responsive to the people does not elude us.
We must NOT allow the domination of our thought by partisan allegiance and debate. We MUST deepen the frontiers of TRUTH and the truth is that the difference between the major actors on our political amphitheater (the PDP, APC, LP, APGA et al) is the difference between six and half a dozen.
Countrymen the change we seek can only come through our collective effort, yes we MUST insist on the values of democracy and make good governance the minimum.
God Bless Nigeria.
Prof. Chris Nwaokobia Jnr.
The views expressed in this article are solely those of the author and not necessarily those of securenigeria365.
“Conversations With Dele Salako” was introduced to SN365 seven weeks ago, conceived as a miscellany of musings – a melting pot for different literary blends and flavours – poetry, prose, drama, short stories, letters, commentaries, satire, reviews, parodies et al from enthusiasts all over the world.
I teed off with six letters to my protege, Babatunde (not fictional but representative), letters I thought I should make public seeing they might benefit an army of aspiring writers out there yearning to embrace the craft. I hope they have been helpful indeed. I got quite a number of encouraging feedbacks.
It’s about time you also showed what you’ve got – that poetry piece you’ve been hiding in your notepad or that commentary on some social issue that irks you. It could be your passion for telling compelling stories or your peerless mastery of satire and humour. Did the local buka on the corner fire up your literary marbles? Send in what you’ve got to email@example.com with your photograph, full name, e-mail and social media details and we’ll feature your work as a conversation with yours truly. Waiting to hear from you.
“Letter To My Protege” will return in due course – perhaps, as a standalone. In the mean time, let’s just have fun.
I’ll leave you with this piece of poetry I penned in 2004 – I was in a dreary place. It may not be the best form but it best communicated the emotions I felt at the time. I called it “House of Discontent”.
HOUSE OF DISCONTENT
I have always lived here, it now seems
In this house of discontent
Prisoner of the pain of many failed expectations
Traduced by familiar foes whose venomous tongues forged my bonds
I have always been of a broken heart
Dreams of countless years hang in hopeless sway
The man yonder lives my dream life
Content not to show me the way
I have always wandered
Searching with spirit and soul for home
A place I can call my own
But still here I lie in the doldrums of dying dreams
I have always been lonely
Compelled to conjure illusory worlds of momentary bliss
An ephemeral utopia in the mind craving permanence
Memories pregnant with fleeting havens of temporal reprieve
I have always longed for one I can call my own
An angel of compassion and love whose very heart feels my pain
The one to whom my plight sings a familiar tune
Someone whose heart reaches out to mine
I have always led a borrowed life
A pauper paraded in Princes’ apparel
Torn apart by the deep despair of discontent
Saying to you in unuttered words, “I am not the man you think I am.”
I have always wondered
Once, while a Prince living in different palaces of discontent
I offered of my bountiful supply to the poor and needy
Why does my own relief delay?
I have always longed for better days
When all my sorrows will meet their end
When will these teary eyes be opened
To see the way that leads to heavenly home?
I have always been captive to the nagging fear
That this prisoner may never lose his bonds
Nor claim his imaginary palaces
That this house of discontent shall be my forever abode
Your fellow traveller
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