R.I.P PRINCE & PAPA WEMBA

I think myself an eclectic because I listen to and enjoy all kinds of music, many times without understanding what's been said or sung about. Sometimes I purposely don't rush to learn the lyrics of songs or rap music in English, because I fear I might lose interest in the song, especially when the song is still "pon da replay".


When I learnt about the death of "Prince" I wasn't devastated. I doubt I had heard any of his songs recently, but I felt bad that he had to go still so young with what many consider enough time to continue to churn out the kinda music that made him peculiar. Back in the day, Prince' music was thrown at me by the TV and radio without much I could have done about it. Eventually, his music grew on me as long as I saw or heard it before I began to have much of a choice about what I heard or saw, with my TV and Radio, and my remote control, and began to hear and see less and less of Prince, not because I didn't enjoy his music while it lasted, but because most of the time I was confused about him, what he tried to say, how he tried to say it, and how he expressed himself.

PRINCE WITH ONE OF HIS GUITARS

Much later, I guess on discovering he was black (after seeing him as white in our Black & White TV many time as a kid), and didn't look it, also began to affect how I felt about him, though Michael Jackson who was also black and looked whiter than Caucasians was never diminished before me. Also, it was such that each time I saw a Prince video, I was easily distracted by the shape of his guitar, or the feminine way he went about gesticulating while singing, as well as all of the lights, that before I had the chance to pick the lyrics the music was over. That honestly, was how it had been between me and Prince before I took control of TV and Radio, saw and heard less of him, except for a few times in recent years and then last week when he died.


It was different between me and Papa Wemba, who also came to my consciousness about the time Prince was riding the waves. In his case however, I continued to see and hear him after I had my remote control. It didn't matter that I understood no word he spoke in French or the local Congolese language he often used in his Makosa. Somehow I felt I got the message he was passing in his songs in that very peculiar soprano of his, even when I had no idea what he was singing about, like in my best of his, "YOLELE". It was a great relief for me when he did a collaboration with another artiste in English, unfortunately the song didn't resonate with me as did the ones in lingua I didn't understand.

PAPA WEMBA DURING A SONOROUS RENDITION

His death late last week didn't shock me, but I felt bad, just as with Prince'. Apparently, both of them left right in the middle of doing what they loved most. Prince found dead at an elevator, days just right after a tour promoting his latest work, and Papa Wemba after he collapsed while performing at a show in the Ivorian capital, Abidjan. Both weren't retired from their careers when the grim reaper visited, rather they left while in very active service, associated with what both have always been known with and for. I definitely may not miss them as much as those close to them, but having played some roles in my formative years musically, I will notice their absence, especially their peculiarity, especially in an age where almost every singer sounds the same, killing the very essence of music.


May the souls of Prince, and Papa Wemba Rest In Peace, and their works Live Forever!


'kovich


PICTURE CREDITS:
- http://www.laineygossip.com
- http://www.thecitizen.co.tz

FULANI HERDSMEN AND THE SACRED COWS

President Muhammadu Buhari's media aide Femi Adeshina is once again defending the indefensible. What has become very obvious despite several attempts at masking it is that the President cannot help being less sectional in his utterances and dealings with Nigerians. You can see it in the way he has rushed to warn pipeline vandals (as with Niger Delta militants and pro-Biafra groups) to stop their activities or else he'll deal with them like he's done with Boko Haram, yet no such statement issued against Fulani herdsmen, who are his kinsmen.


The most he's done, according toMr.  Femi is release a statement or something of the like regarding what happened in Agatu, in Benue State, which isn't even a warning to the marauding Fulani, who carried out something akin to genocide there, and even in Taraba, amongst other communities in Nigeria where the murderous activities of the group (known to be the fourth most dangerous militia in the world) have continued unabated with impunity, with no single herdsman punished even when there are people that can be held for been privy to such activities, if not active participants.


Now a bill to set up a grazing commission is before the National Assembly, at a time the presidency has promised to bring an end to constant clashes between (Fulani) herdsmen and farmers across the country, which in itself is a farce considering that most times the casualty levels (which is more on the side of the farmers and inhabitants of the host communities, than the herdsmen, who many times record no casualties) is disproportionate, unlike what you will find in a true clash between two groups like that between Hausas and Yorubas in the Mile 12 area of Lagos recently.

 FULANI HERDSMEN WERE KNOWN TO BE ARMED IN THE PAST WITH BOW AND ARROWS TILL RECENTLY WHEN THEY STARTED STARTED MOVING AROUND WITH AK-47'S

If it is this controversial bill before the National Assembly, which will empower a commission to takeover just about any land, anywhere in Nigeria for grazing purposes in contradiction to the dictates of the Land Use Act, as well as extant laws of the different states, and traditional means of land ownership in the different areas, is what the federal government is looking at as the possible solution to the massacring of innocent Nigerians who couldn't stand aside to allow their lands to be ravaged by cattle led by armed Fulani herdsmen, then even that is dead on arrival owing to the opposition that is currently mounting against the bill within and without the National Assembly.


While I would also love for a solution to be found to the growing menace these herdsmen pose to Nigeria's sovereignty, it is pertinent that justice and rehabilitation be accorded the victims and survivors of Fulani herdsmen attacks, as there can be no peace without justice. The body language of President Buhari seem averse to this, as well as that of the security agencies which over time have not only watched helplessly as these herdsmen wreaked havoc on the localities they fell on, but even said to overtly provided logistics to the marauders, and as if to rub salt on injury as with the case in Enugu, arrested farmers while protesting the wanton destruction of their means of livelihood by the Fulani herdsmen, not to talk of the recent statement credited to the DSS in regard of the discovery of shallow graves in a forest in Imo State of five Hausa-Fulanis who were allegedly killed by pro-Biafra activists, when that agency had never spoken up about Fulani killings.


The killings, if true of the Fulani by so called elements of pro-Biafra groups (or any other group for that matter) is wrong, so also is the statement by the DSS that is capable of aggravating the tension in the polity, especially after keeping mute on Fulani herdsmen atrocities for eons on end, which only feeds into the conspiracy theory of an agenda by the Fulani to expand their territory even to the Atlantic, and have seen no better opportunity than now that one of their own is in power, as well as having the instruments of coercion also either in their hands or those of loyal stooges. Therefore, it behooves on government to act in a way to allay these concerns speedily before aggrieved groups organize themselves in a way to prove to all that no particular group in Nigeria has the monopoly of resorting to violence to settle grievances, by exploring solutions that will not leave any side disadvantaged, or else whatever peace that will come out of the so called solution will be short-lived.


'kovich


READ ALSO: FULANI HERDSMEN: RANCHING OR NOMADISM, PEACE OR WAR | https://madukovich.wordpress.com/2014/03/21/fulani-herdsmen-ranching-or-nomadism-peace-or-war/


PICTURE CREDIT:
- http://www.nigeriannewsdirect.com

SEE YOUR DENTIST TODAY

The mouth is the gateway to the body, and it isn't unusual to find a healthy mouth pointing to a healthy body, as indeed you can also find in the mouth the manifestation of several systemic disease conditions. Hence, many people hitherto unaware of conditions such as diabetes became aware of such after a visit to the dentist, because of a peculiar presentation in the mouth that dentists can pick during examination.


Even the above illustration is taking things far, as the mouth itself needs some taking care of as it is a part of the body that can make or mar interpersonal relationships, of which a good one can go a long way in enhancing a person's self-esteem and the likes. The reason many people do not have a dental appointment in their "tight" schedule is because of largely exaggerated negative experiences of others, mostly built around the administration of the local anaesthetic (and it's efficacy during dental procedures), which is a necessary discomfort and nothing more, amongst a few genuine cases of bad experiences with dentists in the past, besides the fear from childhood of parents who may have threatened to punish them with visits to the dentist for misbehaving.

Such people will therefore find themselves visiting dentists only when they have serious dental issues (like needing an extraction of a badly broken down tooth) to deal with, further cementing their long held convictions about the dentist, dental clinics and dentistry as a whole. The idea then is to walk in the opposite direction, to ensure to see the dentist routinely for prophylactic procedures such as Scaling and Polishing, even when there's "nothing" wrong with the teeth. In this way,even the early stages of oral diseases are nipped in the bud, once noticed by the dentist.


The way out of dental challenges therefore isn't to visit the dentist only when there's pain, a swelling or the likes in the mouth that is discomforting, but frequently when nothing is wrong, just so that the dentist can continue to maintain the mouth in the good condition we would love them to be. Yes, you might see a dentist feeling great with yourself and the good work you've been doing with your mouth and teeth, only to come off disappointed when s/he draws your attention to an area of your mouth or a condition you have not noticed, but that shouldn't be a valid reason to detest coming to see a dentist, rather one you should even be happy about as it would've been worse had the dentists failed to see the condition.


Dentists must not be seen just as doctors but as friends, and though dental care may be a little bit expensive, a listening one that's also a friend can easily be reasoned with to accommodate a financial plan that wouldn't break your bank and still get you the best care even the very rich can afford, when you don't have health insurance, many of which also have limited dental cover. Understand that seeing your dentist may just save your life, and do the needful by doing the cheap routine visits today than the very expensive sparse visits during dental emergencies tomorrow.


'kovich


PICTURE CREDIT:
- coolin (@colinmiller17) | Twitter

OBIADI NNA'M A NA A

This Branch stayed firm when the ones before him broke,
To restore waning hopes for possibilities,
The activation of an alternative didn't blight his light,
From shining out of obscurity even from childhood,
Like a Rose from Concrete.


He wasn't stopped by a civil war,
Adversities only provided him launchpads to excel,
He enjoyed life but abhorred excesses,
A true family man who would do everything legitimate to protect his own,
Like the Lion in his Lair.


A loving father not wont to spoil his children,
Nor spare us his rod of correction,
Aimed solely at pointing us in the right path,
Leaving us with nothing but gratitude for those days,
Of cautioning with the left and drawing back with the right.


He had mastery of the rare combination of being both soft and strong,
Navigating through business and religious calling seamlessly,
Without compromising his principles,
To the admiration of all who encountered him,
And to the glory of Almighty Yahweh.


Even when his body began to fail him,
His spirit wouldn't be dampened,
Neither did his demeanour fall,
Rather he laughed at his condition,
While doing all he could to help his situation.


He understood and respected Yahweh's will for him,
And when it was time for him to go,
He maintained a silence for a fortnight,
So we could reflect on all he'd had a lifetime to share and say to us,
And in his last seconds gestured to us to indicate his passing.

He has played his part,
Ours it is the next to play,
As his works become the stuff legacies are made of,
He was, and was not,
For YAHWEH took him.


Obiadi Nna'm, Sir Micky Jagger, je nke oma!


'kovich

PICTURE CREDIT:
- http://www.the guardian.com/lifeandstyle

NAIJA TOUR (14)

I have passed through Yenagoa severally on my way out of Rivers State to the western part of Nigeria or elsewhere. Unfortunately, I have never had cause to drop by into the town or even spend any time in Bayelsa State. I doubt that the security situation in that state is responsible for my action, though I cannot say I haven't taken note of such enough to influence my thoughts away from anywhere in Bayelsa State as a "tourist" destination.


As we passed by the old bridge over the river in Kaiama, I wondered how it came to be that the new bridge was still under construction right beside the old one, and looked like an abandoned project.

BRIDGE OVER THE RIVER IN KAIAMA

I could only shake my head at that state of affairs especially now that the economic realities may and most probably will conspire to thwart any effort at completion, even though much of what should've completed the bridge in the first place, may have been frittered away in the usual and norm that's the corruption story of Nigeria.


Once we were in Patani, Delta State away from the politically charged Bayelsa, I heaved a sigh of relief not because Delta State wasn't as charged, but at least the state wasn't preparing for elections at the time, so I wasn't envisaging any disturbance on the road, and the prospect of reaching Lagos just a bit after sunset loomed likely, until we approached Sapele. It happened that a petrol tanker had burst into flames near a mechanic workshop, triggering a hail of fire that consumed much of the cars parked there, stalling all traffic to and from the area, and that was how we had to be left crawling in Sapele for almost two hours. Even the so called crawling was because the driver knew how to maneuver the bus to gain us some advantage over other drivers who opted to play by the traffic rules. By the time we passed by the scene of the fire, much of what was left were carcasses of vehicles parked at the mechanic workshop and immediate environs, though I could see nothing to show that any life was lost. The firemen were still at the scene with water dripping off their hoses.


Any hopes of reaching Lagos by sunset went up in smoke after we managed to navigate our way out of Sapele, even the passengers the driver had promised to take to Benin (Edo State, Midwest Nigeria) received the shock of their lives when the driver only managed to take them to a bypass to Benin, and despite pleas and later insults from the affected passengers, stood his ground till they reluctantly alighted from the bus, much to everyone's relief, as one of the aggrieved passengers had threatened to ensure that the bus didn't go on to Lagos unless they were taken to their agreed destination. I felt very sad for them been dealt such a hard one by the driver, but because it was now sunset, and we still had a Lagos to reach, I ignored the activism bug gnawing at my innards, and elected to be quiet while the banters lasted, than go against my will to support the driver beside me with the injustice he had just meted out to hapless passengers that late in the evening, the best I could do in a wrong situation that somehow favoured me.


Once those passengers eventually agreed to leave, I changed seats away from the middle front, to the seat directly behind the driver. Now famished, I reached for my roast fish (that I bought in Port Harcourt) and bread (remnant of my meal the night before at the hotel in Rumuomasi), and munched away at it with alacrity while the bus roared away into the night over asphalt. My phones were now beginning to ring from family and friends whom I had intimated of my movement, and had probably calculated that I'd be either here or there, only to be disappointed that I was nowhere closer to any of their estimated positions.


We made Òrè by some minutes before nine o'clock, and the driver made for an empty petrol station where he got some water to wash the windscreen of the bus. I, like other passengers stepped out to stretch my legs, and though there were groceries on all sides, stacked up small baskets and bowls for sale, with no one  to sell them to us. I had heard tales of places in Nigeria like this where locales who know what the groceries cost, simply pick from the lot and drop the money on the trays, and the traders come in the morning to find the money and goods intact. Since none of the passengers picked, bought or paid for anything, I followed in their footsteps to simply feed my eyes on the fruits on display before walking back to the bus, where the driver was already waiting for us to continue the journey.


Luckily, till we got to Lagos the journey from that point onwards was without incidence. My phone's battery was now in the Battery Saver mode, and my power bank had long before then run out of stored power, so I could no more listen to music of my choice or mark my presence on social media. That was when I noticed that only the speaker in the driver's space worked, and because of the speed and windy air from the open windows, twas difficult for us passengers behind to hear what was been played on the stereo, except when the bus slowed down. But even when I managed to hear some of the songs he was playing, I didn't feel too bad been left out.


We eventually reached Lagos by some minutes to midnight, and I could see the faces of the taxi drivers light up in anticipation of a "killing" in bargains so late at night, especially if any of us travellers were new in town and didn't know the going rates of taxiing in Lagos. This was home soil to me, so when one of them approached me, I spoke to him in a tone he understood, knowing full well that the choice open to him was to say no to my offering and remain hopeful for something better or agree to my request. Once we reached a deal, I was soon on my way home. I felt good having achieved all but one of my objectives for going on this tour, the only one being a journey to Nigeria's Southeast, my region of origin that I had decided against going from Port Harcourt because I felt I could always go to the east for one reason or the other. Unfortunately, I never envisaged that such a thing as the death of my father would be one of such reasons to bring me back to the homeland.


'kovich

NAIJA TOUR (13)

By the time I got to the park in Waterlines, Port Harcourt (South-south Nigeria/Niger Delta) it was past one in the afternoon, and I had already made up my mind to take a raincheck on going to Anambra State in the Southeast. Waterlines seemed the only part of Port Harcourt where you could find commercial transport buses painted in other colors besides the usual light blue and white colours (understandably because most of the buses there ply interstate routes, bearing the colour of their parent companies, sometimes even states, as with state owned commercial buses and saloon cars) which is the states' official colours, even as the states' TV station, Rivers State TV- RSTV shows. I have found that in most states bordering the water bodies like lagoons, rivers, or the Atlantic in Nigeria, the colour of public transportation, sometimes even state emblems include the light Blue colour, like in Lagos where the official public transportation colour is yellow/orange with two black stripes, you find that most of the ones plying the Island route are painted in the white and blue.

Though it is considered late to be deciding to go to Lagos at the time of day I decided to so do from Port Harcourt, it seemed to the right thing to do, especially as I had achieved all that I had intended to businesswise. Besides Lagos is one of the few places I could arrive at at any time of the day or night and not feel lost or fear any evil come to me. I in fact scare people when I come upon them at so late an unholy hour. I reckoned that as I still live, I will always have reason to go to the east, to counter the guilt I was beginning to feel for cutting off that part of my itinerary because of the protest by the pro-Biafra agitators in Onitsha when I first intended to go to the east a few days back. When it comes to travel however, my instincts have never proved wrong, if it said to go to Lagos (despite the time), then to Lagos I should go.

That was how I boarded the minibus to Lagos as the penultimate passenger. Sitting in front beside the driver appeared to be the better option, though it wasn't what I would ordinarily do, particularly because a seat belt wasn't available for any passenger intending to sit there. I wouldn't even consider the  window side seat in front even with the seat belt (for the very obvious reason that in the unfortunate occurrence of a road traffic accident, those who sit in front stand the risk of more injury, even death). My seat of preference is usually way back in the bus (window side) two rows behind and same side of the driver, when I am early enough to choose, otherwise any where else besides the front will just about do it for me.

Luckily, the gear stick was such that is located on the dashboard, just beside the steering wheel, totally eliminating the discomfort due to the passenger in my place, when placed beside the driver and the passenger in the middle, where the driver's hand would hit the passenger's thighs routinely as he makes to change gears. That positive though didn't remove from the fact that the lack of a seat belt for the "middleman" meant that each time the vehicle jerks I be the only one to have to lurch forward, and hence I had to be very conscious and awake to ensure that I didn't jump outta the vehicle after shattering the windscreen, when the driver makes a dangerous swerve on speed in his attempt to be in Lagos before, or at least not too long after dusk.

Finally, after about an hour since I arrived at the park, the bus waltzed out of the motorpark, out of Waterlines road into the persisting traffic of the Trunk B road on our way out of Port Harcourt. It was the day before the gubernatorial elections in neighbouring Bayelsa State and from precedence I was aware that movements would be restricted on elections day, which would've meant traveling to Lagos via the Southeast from Port Harcourt, which is way longer than via the Niger Delta/South-South. The way elections are taken in the Niger-Delta is quite unlike the rest of Nigeria, as contending parties give it all it takes, including the kidnap of opponents or members of their families, and the attendant killings, just so that the winners can gobble up funds accruing to the states into private pockets, evidenced by the paucity of meaningful development despite massive accruals in tandem with their status as Oil Producing States, from Federal Allocations.  

Years back when the Niger Delta was base for me, I had asked an elder why the region always went in the direction of the government at the centre, he replied that it was the only way prosperity could be assured the people, to which I responded by pointing to the squalor around us then in Finima, in Bonny Island, Rivers State. I mentioned to him Lagos State (in Nigeria's Southwest), which prospered despite not only been in opposition to the central government but even had Local Government allocations denied it, for having the guts to declare new Local Government Areas, LGAs which later became Local Council Development Areas, LCDAs. This was in 2007 before Goodluck Ebele Jonathan from Bayelsa State became President.

Interestingly, on the day I was making my journey to Lagos from Port Harcourt last December, Bayelsa State was in the throes of an election to maintain it's status as a People’s Democratic Party, PDP state, now in opposition while Rivers State was awaiting a Supreme Court ruling that will maintain it's PDP status if it upturned the Appeal Court ruling that had decided in favour of rerun of the gubernatorial elections, which the opposition All Progressives' Congress, APC celebrated, even though they'd have preferred victory awarded them by the court. That election in Bayelsa State will be declared inconclusive and reruns held in Southern Ijaw Local Government and a few polling stations in other local governments, and PDP will go on to win eventually. The Supreme Court also went on to rule in favour of the PDP declaring that the PDP candidate wasn't given fair hearing by the election tribunals ab initio amongst other reasons. In the end, all but one of the six Niger Delta states are now controlled by the opposition, a change brought about by the fact that their party which once controlled the centre, and till a few months ago, led by a son of theirs lost the centre to the opposition. What seemed out of place in 2007, has now become the order in the Niger Delta in 2016.

I have always felt that if Lagos that boasts of no natural resources, without special derivations from the federal allocations, despite its status as a former administrative capital can do it, Niger Delta states being the home of Nigeria's greatest foreign exchange earner, with an expansive shoreline, despite federal allocations tilted to and in their favour, with some ingenuity and sincerity of purpose can do far better than they are presently doing. It is disheartening to find a Niger Delta State amongst those owing staff salaries, with several abandoned projects dotting the landscape, not least of which is the MONORAIL project embarked upon by the immediate governor of Rivers State, (Rt. Hon.) Chibuike Rotimi Amaechi


THE NOW ABANDONED MONORAIL PROJECT IN PORT HARCOURT, RIVERS STATE, NIGERIA

who incidentally is the Transport Minister in the present President Muhammadu Buhari-led Federal Government, making one wonder when antecedents ceased to be used as criteria for apportioning portfolios, even if he must be made minister, and that's besides the heavy burden of corruption hanging over his neck, which the Economic and  Financial Crimes Commission, EFCC has conveniently elected to overlook, as it intensifies its anticorruption battle (spearheaded by the president) against the opposition PDP.

Yenagoa, Bayelsa State capital looked quite peaceful when we passed through, but I could sense the tense atmosphere, in the way posters of the two top contending candidates for the guber elections were intentionally pasted on top of each other, in layers after layer, with the last person to paste been the winner for the day. I surmised that the job of putting up the posters, either on a tabula rasa, or over that of the other candidate would be a job for the night amidst armed guarding by the pasters' peers to forestall "accidental discharge", from thugs of the opposing party or group. The Niger Delta replete with cult groups, militant groups and the likes are war zones during elections, though their activities continue brazenly before and after elections, only that they are better funded by politicians during the electioneering periods.

In the elections that took place the following day to when I passed through Bayelsa, and the rerun that took place much later in January this year, lives were reportedly lost in clashes between the varying groups, during attempts at ballot box snatchings and attempts at warding miscreants off polling booths/units, while it was reported that security agencies contracted by the Independent National Electoral Commission, INEC to maintain peace and order, took sides. Unfortunately in Nigeria, deaths from clashes during elections, as with clashes amongst cult groups in the Niger Delta, like those at the hands of marauding Fulani herdsmen nationwide (though with particular emphasis to Nigeria's Northcentral region or middle belt), or at the hands of Islamic Fundamentalist Groups like Boko Haram in Nigeria's North East, naturally go uninvestigated by the police, and perpetrators many times walk the streets free, till maybe they meet their waterloo at the hands of a revenge team/squad by those wronged by their former activities (who are then sometimes arrested by the police, and freed if they can make the police an offer they couldn't reject).

Though the Rivers State portion of the East-West Road was uncompleted as at the time I passed in December. The part as you enter into Bayelsa and onwards was well paved and made the journey seamless. Most of what happened with the Rivers State section of the road was political, due to the no love lost relationship between the then Governor Amaechi and former President Goodluck Jonathan. It will be interesting to see if Amaechi who is now Minister of Transport can prevail on his friend and former Lagos State governor, and minister of Works, Power and Housing, Babatunde Fashola (who also has an unenviable record of abandoned projects in Lagos in the Housing Sector- Lagos HOMS, and like Amaechi in a Light Rail project that is beginning to also look like a white elephant project) to look favourably on that road, most importantly ask his former Commissioner for information, Mrs. Ibim Semenitari, who now heads the Niger Delta Development Commission, NDDC to commit to the building of that aspect of the road, or allow his seeming hatred towards Governor Nyesom Wike to stifle development in his home state. I wondered if he will attempt to rejuvenate the monorail project he started as governor, but has now joined the list of Nigeria's White Elephant Projects (by governors looking for enduring legacies to massage their megalomaniacal egos), now as minister even routinely inspecting the rail projects initiated (both completed and almost completed) by the immediate past President Jonathan's regime, nationally as we made good speed through Bayelsa onwards Lagos, making me believe that we may in fact make Lagos before dusk!

'kovich

PHOTO CREDIT:
- http://www.africaupdates.com

NAIJA TOUR (12)

How is it that I forgot to talk about toiletries in these two and three star hotels that I find myself cocooning in when I travel in my previous instalment of the tours? Anyway, seeing that my treatise will be incomplete without letting you in on hotel choices based on simple things as those, I will now do exactly that if you'd allow me some paragraphs before I return to the core of my tale, as what I am about to share with you can help you guess how posh the hotel you're staying in is, in Nigeria that is. Of course you know you get full options, even dry-cleaning with the four or five star hotels, and seeing that I have very little experience with such, I won't bother about that, particularly as I have no intention of regaling you with lies.

Now back to the two or three stars (I am intentionally ignoring the one star hotels you find almost every where in Lagos as elsewhere, with whores swarming over the whole place/bars that serve as "negotiating points"), and how toiletries could point you to what to expect. Most of these hotels have miniature soaps, as well as a toilet paper and towel. The better graded ones, that instils confidence in you to expect a fairly good service would have the miniature soaps of popular brands such as Lux, Joy, Imperial Leather, and the likes while the ones at the bottom of the ladder have the not so popular brands, sometimes no soap though this is rare, except you are in for "short time" for some indiscretion or a business meeting, you'd rather not conduct in the lobby or bar of the hotel.

I used to think that three star hotels must have a branded towel, but I have long perished that thought having been to some hotels, like the one in Rumuomasi area of Port Harcourt which had everything four star hotel managers could only but envy, yet served the ordinary towel, though I always make provision for my own towel when traveling and hardly ever need the hotels'. It's either they couldn't care any less about such "trivia" as many little things that truly matter is fast becoming in today's Nigeria or they actually truly know but currently constrained to do so by one factor or the other. The hotel in Rumuomasi where I spent my my last night in Rivers State did have the miniature soap of a popular brand, but not a branded towel. The toilet roll was soft and of high quality, which is a plus for a three star.

The only problem I have found with hotels in the South-south of Nigeria is the TV. I still don't understand why they can't be linked to reputable cable TV companies rather than the uninspiring connections they link to that make me wonder if they actually pay for such or are beneficiaries of some kind of illegal connections that allow them a few rather than all the channels. One three star hotel I stayed  in two years ago in Benin even had one station devoted to porn, and it seemed they were streaming it from the hotels central DVD player to all the rooms, and it was so unkempt that the first room I was allotted to had a used condom on the  floor, and while I was leaving very early the next morning, I got directions on how to get a cab to the nearest interstate bus terminal from hookers who where on their way home from the hotel (after a hard night's job).

As I did not have a pending engagement the next morning, I decided to wait till noon, about the time I would've fully exhausted my "time" at the hotel, before leaving for my next destination. My wait was not without an interruption from a cleaning staff who thought the room was empty of its guest. I didn't feel it was right to leave Port Harcourt without bidding farewell to the one who made the connections for the deal I was pursuing there possible. From the hotel, I went back to the place where Shell Staff were attending a trade fair organized for them, saw my contact person before leaving to trek some distance in order to get to a part of the road where traffic was freer.

It was while I was on this trek along Old Aba Road, that I came upon a grill with plantains, yams and Fish at different stages of "readiness for consumption" and couldn't help but think to get me some helping of some of the "fish head" 'pon the grill. I figured it will be anathema to come to the heart of "Rivers" State and not taste of the local delicacy (like leaving Abuja in Nigeria's Northcentral without "Kilishi"), even if I was on my way out of town, and didn't exactly have the appetite to "chow" that at the moment. My eyes and my stomach were sending contradictory messages to me, but my brain knew better to insist that I go for it, as my gut which didn't want it now, may be dying for it later while ruing missed opportunities.

THE GRILL WITH PLANTAIN, YAMS AND FISH ALONG OLD ABA ROAD, PORT HARCOURT

Even my left hand had already gone for my wallet, and the fingers on my right flipping through the wads to make up the appropriate sum, enough to cover the cost of buying the fish head which had suddenly appeared to shine more and simmer in the sun to becoming more enticing and irresistible. Before I could even say fi-, I was already haggling for a good bargain for the fish and felt even more fulfilled buying the grilled fish than I was when I sealed a deal a day ago, a short distance from where I was standing. I had the vendor wrap the fish in many layers of old newspaper, to prevent it from soiling my bag and other contents of the space I was going to put the fish in. She also helped me put the sauce in a small nylon bag wrapped within many layers of paper to prevent it from spilling. I tucked my prize in one of the many compartments on my backpack and set off to continue my journey.

I wanted just to get out of town and head for the Southeast which I had passed on my way to Port Harcourt because of the pro-Biafra protest situation in Onitsha, which I gathered had by then dissipated, though the airwaves and social media was trending with issues surrounding the propriety or not of the security agencies deploying strong arm tactics in dispersing and quelling the protests, in which one person, a female (protester?) was "officially" confirmed dead and several others injured. I say officially, because in Nigeria such information has the official and unofficial versions, with the unofficial number of deaths being more than the official, as well as most often than not found to be closer to the truth than the official.

I managed to join passengers in a cab going to Waterlines, an area in Port Harcourt where you can find buses to virtually any state capital and major town in Nigeria. I had forgotten how bad traffic used to be in Port Harcourt, especially in the days after the use of motorbikes as means of transportation was banned there a few years back, and finding myself in one on that day deeply upset me. All of the time I spent in that cab just thinking and wondering might have somehow sown a seed in me that germinated into my decision to call off the journey to the Southeast, where really I had no business to pursue except for the purpose of refreshing myself with the allure and peace of mind that the homeland affords as well as the eustress that just being in a  familiar terrain enables.

'kovich

NAIJA TOUR (11)

The hotel I lodged in the first night in Rivers was one I was very familiar with at Obigbo. It wasn't a five-star but it met the basic conditions that I want in a hotel, especially for someone like me to whom anonymity means a lot to. I know how to find such places, trust me. I should've insisted on the room I always took, but I didn't mind when I was given another. Somehow it felt smaller than the one I was used to though it cost the same amount, and the intercom wasn't working such that they had to accompany my visitor up to see me rather than call on the intercom to intimate me of such, only to tell me that they had been trying the intercom to no avail. It also meant that I had to go to the lobby downstairs to make requests each time I wanted something.

I had known earlier that they didn't have hot water, unlike what you'll find in many two-star hotels in Edo State where hotel business appear to be second to none. It feels like every street has one there. The difference between the Edo Hospitality sector and the Rivers States' is that you will get better for commensurate amount in Edo State than in Rivers State. You need to get to a three or four star hotel, especially in Port Harcourt to have the full compliments at a pricey sum, while even as far a destination from the Edo State capital Benin, in a place like Igara, you can get a bungalow two-star hotel that is fully complimented, viz split unit air conditioner, hot water, spacy and well tiled room, with your usual Gideon's International Bible on a desk for your reading pleasure and spiritual upliftment.

Interestingly, as for what is on offer for the two or three stars, not much. TV is just CNN and some Ghanaian stations which show Ghallywood movies that look more like soft porn with a story line. Their ads are also quite hilarious though I doubt they are really that funny in the real sense of comedy, save for the way the Ghanaian accented English sounds to the ears of the Nigerian. There is some discretion when it comes to "escorts" in hotels in Rivers State, especially in Port Harcourt though, unlike anywhere in Edo, where approaches may be made to you if your body language suggests that you may require such a service, especially when potters are aware that you arrived alone.

I normally don't eat the hotel food, for the four and five stars because they could be very expensive, and I have a very large appetite. Once at Sheraton Abuja during a conference, the only food by the hotel I had was the buffet by the conference organizers, while I headed out to eat outside in the evenings, to save me my money, and also to eat foods that I am very much familiar with. With the two or three stars, that I can relatively afford I tend not to trust much besides the appetizers like pepper soup when I go to drink, in the days when I used to so indulge. The last thing I want during travels is to have a stomach upset, and the surest way for me to avoid such is to stick to my tinned foods, bread, kebabs and the likes from the streets adjoining the hotel.

The next morning, with the help of an acquaintance I was able to find a food vendor at Timber Bus Stop, Obigbo where I paid so little for so much food, I had anticipated a long day and junk could take me only so far.  I still had till noon to burn so I remained at the hotel, even after eating and taking my bath. I tried to listen to RADIO BIAFRA but again couldn't stand the presenter's voice and made do with the local radio stations like Rhythm FM, while watching the TV without audio. I gathered that peace had returned to Onitsha though not without the loss of a life, injury to others and destruction of several property. I was beginning to doubt if I will still fulfill the part of my itinerary that included going to the Southeast at this point.

On my way to Port Harcourt, and thankfully without the cab driver listening to Radio Biafra, I noticed that there hadn't been much improvements in the landscape of Rivers State since last I was there less than three years ago, and coming during the harmattan also made the whole place appear rustic and totally unkempt. Some repair works were been carried out on a few roads, which appear to be more of an act of the governor to endear the people of the state to himself, ahead of the possibility of elections should the Supreme Court goes on to affirm the decisions of the courts before it, that cancelled the elections that produced him in the first place, than it is of one borne out of necessity.

ONGOING REPAIR WORKS ON THE ROAD INWARDS PORT HARCOURT FROM OBIGBO

I was soon at the gate of my destination, in front of Shell Petroleum Development Company, SPDC at Bishop Crowther Memorial Secondary School, Rumuobioakani, in Port Harcourt where stern looking, gun totting "mobile policemen" were standing to frisk visitors intending to pass into the school grounds where a mini fair had been organized for staff of the SPDC using the many credit and thrift societies they belong to. My host soon came around with my pass and we walked into the expansive school compound. Almost everything one could think of buying during the Christmas period and beyond where on hand for sale.

SOME OF THE ITEMS ON DISPLAY AT THE MINI FAIR IN PORT HARCOURT

Interestingly, recent layoffs and news of more impending layoffs remaining ever fresh in the air of the oil industry, even at Shell, appeared to have done nothing to dull the atmosphere or dampen the mood, with Shell Staff turning up in their numbers from their office across the road, not only to just sightsee but to pick up items on display, from the little pins and needles to the large like cars and SUVs. I just stopped short of envying them while waiting for the slightest opportunity or window to grab the attention of my host away from business (on display, attended to by her subordinates) she had to attend to, so I could put up before her my business proposal. The reason I had come to Port Harcourt in the first place.

Once a deal, which incidentally didn't take long to agree upon was struck, without need for more persuasive effort on my side like I envisaged, I stayed around to watch events going on around me. Shell staffers and the families were treated like royals for that day, as they waltzed from one tent to the other going through the items on display. I had intended to change my wallet while I was in the North of Nigeria, in the early days of the tour but it totally skipped my mind, and when I saw what looked like the leather I would've gotten from the North I jumped at it, but bounced out almost as quickly as I went in when I was informed of the price. I had forgotten how things can be very expensive in Port Harcourt. Earlier that morning, I had paid premium for an earphone to replace the one I forgot in Keffi, Nasarawa State when I was there days before, as I left the hotel that morning and should've known better than to come to that fair to buy souvenir.

VEHICLES ON DISPLAY FOR SALE AT THE FAIR

I spent the rest of the day feeding my eyes with what the exhibitors had on show, while also watching progress on the reward aspect of the fair, where shoppers were encouraged to fill and submit a form for which a draw was carried out in the latter part of the day and prizes doled out to successful participants. By the time the fair closed, and a dinner date with my host over, it had become unreasonable to return to Obigbo that night, so I lodged at another hotel in Rumuomasi, as you make your way off Aba Road into Uyo Street, in Port Harcourt, in a very obscure part of town (the kind of hideaway I cherish) that my host showed me, but yet a three-star, with spacious room, hot water but same TV stations including CNN, one foreign movie TV, Emmanuel TV (showing Pastor T.B. Joshua's "miracles") and the Ghanaian TV (showing the usual). The intercom in the hotel worked unlike the one at Obigbo, and they had armed security as well, which may be embarrassing for a visitor coming to see a guest at the hotel, when they have to be interrogated by security before they are allowed passage to see a guest. The mattress was better than the one in the hotel at Obigbo, and the duvet was such that once under the covers, the chilled air from the air conditioner stayed out.

'kovich

NAIJA TOUR (10)

I wasn't surprised that the fat man going at his food with his fingers while at the same time licking them, did not consider my plight even when I lied to him that the interview I intended to attend in Port Harcourt had started and there was no way I was going to meet it, hence my decision to cancel the trip and ask for a refund or part of the fare I had already paid. He nonchalantly told me there was no way I was getting my money back and continued with the shame that his style of eating represented. I blamed myself for missing out on the telltale signs that should've warned me that I had come to fake park, wondering how it was that I fell for their trick after knowing and successfully avoiding their shenanigans in Onitsha especially, over the years.

Taking all that had happened in its stride, I left the "fake" park for the other one, and was still lucky to find the bus that still had space for just one passenger and hopped in. The joy of finally having to leave Onitsha (in Nigeria's Southeast) before any trouble between the joint military task force and protesting IPOB members started was more than the disappointment from the money I had lost to the people at the fake park. It didn't take up to ten minutes after I boarded the  small bus to Port Harcourt (in Nigeria's Niger Delta/South-South) before it made its way into Onitsha-Owerri Road far away from the tense atmosphere of the Head Bridge.

VIEW OF ONITSHA-OWERRI ROAD FROM THE MOTORPARK, ONITSHA, ANAMBRA STATE.

Passengers in the bus were on about the Anambra State governor, Willie Obiano and his penchant for throwing up unnecessary celebrations over projects that required just a simple cutting of tapes or not. They talked about how youths have gone to posters around the state to replace "OBIANO IS WORKING" with "OBIANO IS DRINKING" in reference to the governors' perceived gluttony and support of tradition in a society where the largely christian population was shedding what they term their heathenish past. Though I disagreed with their views on the latter, I didn't contribute to their discussion, just was disappointed with them for thinking that foreign cultures and religion is better and right while ours should be relegated to the background, if not scrapped.

The road after Ihiala, towards Uli was still in that same state of disrepair as I met it two years back, even though construction work which was started back then was either still in progress or must have been abandoned. Passing through a section of that road, especially the unpaved section proved quite an onerous task as the bus groaned as it struggled to move atop the dusty laterite soil, throwing dust at us from the few inlets where the windows and boot (because of the excess luggage) weren't properly closed. The dust thrown up from vehicles passing in the opposite direction also affected us, as I'm sure ours did to them.

It wasn't long before we encountered a military truck fully loaded with soldiers who sang as they passed us by in the opposite direction, shooting in the air at the same time. It was at that point that one of the females in the bus drew our mind back to Onitsha, and how this could be reinforcement to the troops on ground, a pointer that things might have gone awry there. Indeed it was, because another passenger called an acquaintance in Onitsha and was informed that hell has being let loose as there was an ongoing clash between protesting members of IPOB and the security forces, with gunshots heard, following the burning down of a cement-laden truck by the protesters, and fears are that a few of the protesters had been shot, some wounded and others dead.

While fellow passengers kept in touch with people back at Onitsha, I fed my eyes with the much I could glean of the part of Imo State we were passing through. It was much the construction site I met the last time I passed through months back, though much of what I now see were in the advanced stages. The governor apparently feels infrastructure makes more sense than paying workers' salaries, even after collecting bailout funds from the federal government to pay them. It is very unfortunate that the people of Imo State have had to be saddled with a megalomaniac who feels that he's doing his people a favour without any sense to serve, as evidenced in many controversial statements and actions he had made and continues to make, especially in the last two years, making him out as very insensitive and intolerant of opposing views, that I wonder if any of his advisers actually advice him, or that they do and he couldn't care any less about what they or the people think, as he rules the state with his nuclear, extended and compound family. 

As we inched into Rivers State I began to feel somnolent. Fatigue had finally set in, such that by the time I alighted from the bus before it continued on to Port Harcourt my feet had become so heavy that walking became an arduous task. I managed to get a cab going to Obigbo with the radio tuned to the FM band of RADIO BIAFRA. I had heard Radio Biafra about three years ago on shortwave, and the presenter then was energetic, though I cannot say if it the presenter was Nnamdi Kanu, when Radio Biafra was the information arm of MASSOB. Even the Nnamdi Kanu voice I heard much later online had some power to it, even when his rants were mostly incoherent and subjects ridiculous. This particular presenter was very dull and repetitious in relaying his message, amidst calls that were coming in from the homeland and outside of it. He confirmed that shots had been fired in Onitsha, and a female protester was confirmed dead, while others were injured. He however didn't mention other information I already had, concerning the burning of a cement laden truck and some buildings.

That man kept on blaming the federal government as well as the Willie Obiano-led Anambra State government for the ugly outcome of events in Onitsha, and none at the doorstep of the group he represents which by the look of things might have been unruly and may have ignited the flame which led to the unfortunate turn of events. Interestingly, none of the callers saw the stupidity in the act of the protesters, who rather than to peacefully protest, had put a commercial town like Onitsha on a lockdown (for the second day running), such that travelers like me, coming into Onitsha had to make like Tuaregs from Asaba across the Head Bridge or wait endlessly in vehicles conveying us into Onitsha to our different places of destination.

TIMBER BUS-STOP, OBIGBO, RIVERS STATE, NIGERIA.

By the time the cab got me to Timber Bus Stop a few minutes after, at Obigbo where I alighted, my ears were already aching from the rubbish I had been subjected to, wondering how people like that Cab Driver managed to listen to such for hours on end. I could still see signs of burnt tyres and paper Biafra flags on the ground (reminiscent of the IPOB demonstrations there a few days back) as I waltzed to the hotel nearby, to rest my bones till my appointment scheduled for the next day in Port Harcourt. Though I intended to rest, I found that once I had managed to lazily bathe myself, I walked away from the hotel to buy food from the next street, as I didn't think that I would have my full with the hotel's dishes for the kind of price I was willing to pay. Lunch was roast chicken and bread with a big bottle of cold water, which I lounged upon while switching between CNN and a Ghanaian TV station in my hotel room, as I placed a call to a fair pulchritude I had once known in my days across the creeks to see if there's any truism behind Okafor's Law of Congo-Dynamics.

'kovich

THE MOURINHO-WENGER FACET OF LIFE

When Chelsea Manager, Jose Mourinho was let off by the club for the second time in as many years, I was not in the least surprised. In fact I, like many others, felt it would come when (more probable than "if") after Chelsea's next game against Sunderland at Stamford Bridge after the embarrassing loss Monday night to table toppers, Leicester. Even some Chelsea fans I know have been for the past few weeks raking huge winnings from sportbetting by betting against their beloved clubs, that is how dire Chelsea Football Club's case had become before this sack.

A DISGRUNTLED MOURINHO

I actually have nothing personal against Chelsea but some of the things which make my weekend, besides a Liverpool win, is a Chelsea loss. I can't remember exactly why right now, though there are a legion of reasons I can adduce for this, but a Chelsea loss has always left a sweet taste in my mouth since the Rafa Benitez era (who stopped them quite a few times from advancing in the Champions League). Unlike what Uzoma Albert Okwuadigbo thinks of me, as one who goes to continually kick a man that's down and out and having a hell of a fun while at it, I believe I am not exactly that, though I would proudly wear that toga under a Chelsea team coached by Jose Mourinho any day, just to put the LOQUACIOUS ONE in his place, each time he's reminded that he's no SPECIAL than that next man on the street, no one should in fact be. 

Of course an event such as the sacking of the so called SPECIAL ONE wasn't going to pass without an associated media frenzy as well as social media "trending" (which I see even Facebook has copied from Twitter). So, in my usual jobless day yesterday, I waltzed through comments on all the media that threw themselves at me about the BREAKING NEWS, in their different shades, from which of all, I picked two which threw some light on the workings of life.

The first was the usual epic from Piers Morgan on his twitter handle:
"@piersmorgan: ‪#‎Mourinho won Premier League 6 months ago - SACKED.
‪#‎Wenger hasn't won Premier League for 11yrs - UNSACKABLE."

Initially, I didn't know whether to cry or laugh at that from an Arsenal fan and fierce critic of Arsene Wengers' policies at Arsenal Football Club, but the awesomeness of his tweet resounded heavily with me, even several minutes after reading it. This is moreso coming just months after Mourinho referred to Wenger as a SPECIALIST IN FAILURE, then went on to throw his medal into the stands after his team lost the Charity Shied to Arsenal before the start of this season. Things may not have started going downhill for Mourinho after that  missile aimed at Wenger, but people made recourse to it each time Mou faltered or Wenger inched one over him (as with the Charity Shield). The Eva Carneiro (Chelsea Team Doctor) saga did not also help matters as I believe that it went some way to dampen morale amongst the players, even contributing to the situation where Mourinho found himself increasingly losing his dressing room as the season progressed. The extent to which the Eva situation contributed though remain a matter of conjecture, but I am yet to see anyone that has totally ruled that possibility out.

More profound for me was Idowu Addison's comment here rendered, "such is life, sir! mourinho needs to win trophies to be relevant. coach wenger has something stronger working for him. his relevance extends beyond trophies. such is life", after I quoted and retweeted Piers Morgan's tweet, and simulcasted on my Facebook wall, as it shed more light on the Mou(rinho)-Wenger facet of life.


WENGER AND MOURINHO IN ONE OF THEIR SPATS

I deduced from what happened/and is happening with and to these men aforementioned, is typical to what happens with and to us in life. To some people life is a competition (and it truly is), hence every step climbed, position/status/favourable condition attained is claimed with pride as Mourinho values his trophies and trophy chest, and they seem to draw breath from winning and the exact opposite when faced with adverse conditions, of which the third-year jinx with Mou remain an infallible instance to site. A coach like Wenger symbolizes the direct opposite, and reminds us that it is how well and not how fast we go in life that matters, and hence he has continued to be judged on that basis. The problem with the Mourinho model is how easily such men fade from reckoning once their glory days are past them, and how some such people can easily slip into despair when they seize to be the cynosure of all eyes.

Though, I am not here to extol Wenger's virtues, and that's besides the fact that I am no Arsenal fan, I think he will do his club and its fanatical fans a whole world of good, if he can once again redeem for them an English Premier League Trophy, as the possibility of winning the UEFA Champions League dimmed again with their pairing with perennial arch rival and nemesis, Barcelona Football Club in the next stage of the championship. For now, I will just continue relishing another period of Mourinho as the DEMYSTIFIED ONE, while hoping that Pep Guardiola as his possible replacement would've lost most of his charm and luck by the time he comes to manage Chelsea (if they would have him). All obstacles before Jurgen Klopp bringing Liverpool a Premier League trophy for the first time since the Premiership Era must be removed or degraded by next season. *sips Al-Iksir*

'kovich

PHOTO CREDIT:
- http://maidirecalcio.com
- http://www.lebuzz.eurosport.fr

NAIJA TOUR (9)

So it came to pass, that after about an hour of trekking from where the bus I was travelling in had to stop due to traffic somewhere in Asaba, Delta State, I reached the Asaba end of the bridge over the River Niger, connecting the Niger Delta/South-South Nigeria with the Southeast popularly called HEAD BRIDGE (or is it Bridge Head now?). At this point traffic seemed to be slowly moving as a few men of the mobile police force were on hand to control the traffic, sometimes conducting a search especially of some private vehicles.

We (band of trekkers) soon learnt that there had been a protest by members of the Indigenous People Of Biafra, IPOB the day before with intention to hold a mega demonstration (demanding the release of their leader Nnamdi Kanu, presently in detention on charges of treason, terrorism, amongst others, for demanding a sovereign state of Biafra) same day I made to enter Onitsha en route Port Harcourt. I wasn't perturbed by the presence of heavily armed members of the security services since I had nothing to hide, though I suspected that my huge backpack may arouse some suspicion within them about me, so rather than walk away from them, I walked towards them.

I was glad to find that moped taxis were allowed through the bridge, and though crossing the bridge didn't appear longer than the distance I had already covered trekking, I was already tired and my legs now too heavy to lift, so I did the next best thing by getting one of the bikes to ferry me across the "Head Bridge" from the Asaba end, to the Onitsha end, a journey which took less than five minutes to navigate as we left stranded vehicles behind in the hold-up till we got to the Onitsha end where I had to alight, raise my hands (because I saw others doing same) as we passed by the stern-faced,  gun totting military and mobile police men. I had experienced this sometime in 2007 in the heady days of militancy in the Niger Delta, when I visited Port Harcourt from Bonny on my way to a friends'. I noticed to the left of the road, where most of the vehicles of the different arm of the security services present were parked, a man lying facedown into the sand and watched over by about three soldiers, wondering what crime he must have committed to have found himself in such a position. I meant to walk up to the soldiers to ask them what the man had done to deserve such a cruel treatment, but I thought better to walk away as it didn't seem the armed men had any intention to be civil that morning.

I soon walked by the statue of DIM CHUKWUEMEKA ODUMEGWU OJUKWU, the late Igbo Icon, who remains to many a demigod (even a god to some others), and I stood awhile, to not only stare at the harmattan-dustied work of art (a shadow of what it was at its unveiling, which I thought should've been better sculpted), but also to take in the legacy of what the man stood for while he lived. It was for the actions of this man, for his beloved people, when Nigeria turned it's back on the Igbos, seeing in them objects for target practice and game only, especially in Nigeria's North, that the then Colonel Ojukwu on the 6th of July, 1967 after due consultations with relevant stakeholders, in what was then Eastern (Now part of South-South/Niger Delta and all of Southeast) Nigeria,  agreed to pull out of Nigeria.

STATUE OF DIM CHUKWUEMEKA ODUMEGWU OJUKWU IN ONITSHA, ANAMBRA STATE JUST AS YOU ALIGHT FROM THE HEAD BRIDGE

For the three years Biafra fought to free itself off the clutches of Nigeria, to which it had been joined/amalgamated by the colonialists since 1914, the dream of a utopian land of the free was nurtured, birthed but never weaned, due to the war. Igbos never forgot, much like the Jews never forget the Holocaust, and despite what others may say about Ojukwu, he remained the Hero of the Igbo, up till his death four years ago.  

A few Igbo sons have played upon this sentiments (that has remained an idea and ideal for the Igbo, as I elucidated in my treatise on BIAFRA | madukovich's cogitations https://madukovich.wordpress.com/2015/07/16/biafra/) to once a while attempt to recreate or force into being conditions (not necessarily with the bloodshed that birthed the call for secession the first time) under which Biafra can once again be actualized, and because most of these weren't properly thought through, their actions ended up dead on arrival. Some of the agitations for Biafra in recent times have been of and from youths, many of which weren't born ay the time the war was fought (and lost on the Biafran side). This one by the Indigenous People (The Igbo lay claim to being one of the aboriginal groups in Nigeria, unlike some other tribes whose geneology link them to other regions of Africa, even of the world) Of Biafra, IPOB led by Nnamdi Kanu who used to head the media arm of the Movement For The Actualization of the Sovereign State of Biafra, MASSOB (led by Chief Ralph Uwazuruike, who has since denounced Kanu's activity and gone ahead to float another pro-Biafra group) via RADIO BIAFRA based in the United Kingdom, is different in the manner in which it has been able to galvanize in so short a time Igbo youth mainly to protest, even in the face of intimidation, arrests, even deaths; and also managing  to grind to a halt, activities in major towns in the Southeast (notable for commercial activities, where traders find it difficult to lock their shops even for late siblings or in respect of later close relatives, and rush to open same shops minutes after Catholic morning mass on Sundays) and a few towns in the South-South/Niger Delta region (where the reception, unlike in the former was lukewarm to slightly antagonistic, especially by state governors of the region).

CHIEF RALPH UWAZURUIKE (LEFT) OF MASSOB AND NNAMDI KANU  (RIGHT) OF IPOB

Unlike in the period MASSOB held sway and Radio Biafra broadcasted via shortwave with their message available only to a few who could tune in using transistor radios, IPOB has managed to move to FM and also online, with several efforts by the Nigerian Broadcasting Corporation, NBC to block its signals hitting the brick wall, and even when they were able to block one, floated signals elsewhere on the FM bandwidth with ease much to the discomfort and disgrace of the government agency charged with the responsibility of tracking and ending signals from the renegade station. The messages from Radio Biafra has being largely responsible for the way some youths who have been inundated with the messages have gone on, not only to show support but also to be involved in demonstrations, initially asking for a separate state, and much later (as when I passed through) asking for the release of their detained leader.

But all I wanted to do once in Onitsha, was get to a bank and afterwards eat something. I was fortunate to find a bike/Okada rider to carry me to the nearest bank branch whose debit card I carry, so that if it turned out that I still have ATM issues I could walk into the bank and sort it out, of course not without throwing some insult, the way of any bank staff within reach, for the trouble I passed through with the debit card their bank issued me. Fortunately, I was able to withdraw the much I needed, and with another Okada rider made my way through traffic, past military checkpoints with arms raised, away from the main Onitsha road to the motor park on Owerri Road, with intention to make for Port Harcourt, as it was looking like the day will be quite rough, with the impending demonstrations by IPOB youths with the force at Head Bridge looking ready to thwart any attempt at disturbing the peace for that day.

I jumped into the first bus to Port Harcourt I met on ground, once I got to the park on Onitsha-Owerri Road. At which point the rumble in my stomach reminded me of my sorry state of hunger, but that wasn't because I hadn't attempted to get something to eat. I had in fact approached a lady at a stall while trekking from Asaba towards the Niger Bridge, and asked her if she had bread. From the nook where she was eating bread and stew, she asked if I could see bread as part of the things she displayed for sale, I responded in the negative, and she turned back to her food, while I walked away feeling like an ass.

I was the second passenger in the bus. The only thing I could find to buy for food that I was sure won't cause me any trouble was AKI N'UKWA (coconut and fried breadfruit seeds) snack, which I

AKI N'UKWA

bought and feasted upon while waiting for the bus to load for Port Harcourt. Time was of the essence for me, not because I had an appointment particularly fixed for that day in Port Harcourt, but rather because I wanted to be out of Onitsha as soon as possible, as what I saw at the Head Bridge earlier that morning at Onitsha could possibly not mean well for anybody who remained to see how things will unravel.

Only one other passenger joined us after about an hour since I boarded the bus. I had by now become very impatient, and began to wonder what was in Port Harcourt that I wasn't meant to see or meet that everything since I started the journey to that destination conspired to delay me. I alighted from the bus, trekked further to the next opening from where the bus I had earlier boarded was, only to discover the "real" park, and that where I'd been was no park, but just a space where unregistered buses stayed to "hustle" passengers, and may be there for a whole day without getting filled, compared to the real park, where three buses headed for Port Harcourt where at different levels of being filled, in fact one needed just one passenger. That was how I went to the "fake" park to appeal to the sensibility of the so called "park manager" to kindly refund my transport fare, or at most give a part of it back. 

'kovich
PHOTO CREDIT
- http://www.nigeriamasterweb.com
- http://www.nigerianmonitor.com
- http://www.naijatreks.com

NAIJA TOUR (8)

One of the advantages of banking with old generation banks for many Nigerians is the thought that they could not fail like the new generation ones. Even if and when they are rocked by scandals that's enough to swallow the new generation banks, these first generationals  manage to stay afloat, especially because I think they have acquired assets over the years, besides their presence in all the nooks and cranies of Nigeria (including the remotest of places), and have in their boards very powerful people (in government and out of it) or their fronts or proxies, that somehow manage to make financial regulators quite sympathetic to them when they run foul of the law, leaving them with a slap on the wrist in such situations.    

So, even when such banks slowly and reluctantly embrace latest banking technology they do not necessarily lose their crowd, though they may no longer be first choice for most of their customers. The reason they remain in contention may not be unconnected with the fact that they make withdrawals herculean which is good news for many who intend to "truly" save, compared to the new generation banks where there are a gazillion ways to withdraw your money online real time. Unfortunately, hanging with the old generationals during a tour like I undertook meant that each time the ATM cards works, one must withdraw maximally, as it may be the last time one could be successful at the ATM for another few hours for reasons ranging from poor network (that has a way of peculiarly choosing such banks) amongst others, some of which point at the incompetence of the IT sections of such banks.

So it was, that the last time I used that banks debit card was in Lafia (Nasarawa State capital) the night before arriving in Abuja while strolling through Jos Road. I don't know where I got the confidence to spend cash buying medication and food expensively  in Abuja, when I knew I would be traveling later that evening. The first sign that all may not go well was when my host was driving me out of the Games Village after that sumptuous meal of Boiled Tilapia and Shawarma and I tried the ATM there, and I was told that my issuer was unoperative or inoperative (the exact words used skip my memory now). A next try at another, a few meters away (with a guy standing right beside the ATM like he had intention to mug) also proved abortive, but I had hopes. A third try was at Utako (a nidus for transport company termini), before approaching the Luxury Bus Terminus, and it was the same story, though I was able to check my balance (to be sure that the other times I attempted to withdraw was not recorded as successful). 

Gladly, my preferred luxury bus company with which I frequently travel was much into the "cashless" thing, even doing discounts for passengers who use their debit cards rather than paying cash. I was happy to use my debit card on their Point Of Sales (POS) machine, which was issued by the same old generation bank whose ATM I had in my possession. Unfortunately, the POS machine declined my card. It was now some few minutes to six in the evening and I was beginning to feel awkward. Off again into the streets I went to try more ATM's only to come back with the same results. Back at the terminus, the lady issuing the tickets wouldn't let me try my debit card again, and was beginning to view me with suspicion even though her records show that I was a frequent traveller with her bus company. I asked if I could transfer the money to her company's account but she flippantly responded that she didn't know the account. Frustrated, I asked to see the manager, she said "ok", but made no attempt to stand from her seat, or beckon to anyone to help me.

Luckily, a young man I had seen walk in and out of the cubicle where she was seated, was once again going out for something, and I approached him and explained my predicament, to which he hardly broke sweat before giving me an account to wire the required sum for the ticket to an account number I suspect was his, and thereafter directed the ticketing clerk to give me the ticket once the "alert" hit his phone. I couldn't be more grateful. The qualms I had with the ticketing clerk didn't stop me from asking her for a window side seat, to which she quickly responded to the effect that there was none. I was just happy to be able to leave Abuja that night, even though it only meant I'd have a day to loaf about before business in Port Harcourt by so doing.

I went about "charging" my "power bank" at one of the stalls at the terminus, as my mobile phones were already showing signs of low batteries, and it was important for me to be online. The food (jollof rice) served by the bus company in Abuja was better than those in Lagos. It didn't smell of so much monosodium glutamate as with the one at the Lagos park, but I could only manage two spoonfuls before chewing away at the fried meat, which also wasn't bad. The water, though not as cold as I'd have wanted it was much welcome, and I gulped the whole content in the bottle down. I couldn't buy anything at the park because I was low on cash and saved what I had for the journey, where I would then need to buy a thing or two if need be.

The bus started boarding about eight thirty later that evening, but interestingly it wasn't full as at the time the journey started. I guess that was why it delayed so much, and there was no first bus or second bus (that was usually by 5pm and 7pm respectively), rather just one bus to Port Harcourt, in Rivers State, South-South Nigeria, in the heart of the Niger Delta. The ticketing clerk may have thought she was dealing me a bad one when she refused to give me a window seat, but it turned out that there was no one for the window seat, and we left Abuja with just me occupying the space for two people. I took up my space near the window with joy, relishing what I missed on my way to Abuja. It was good to know that we were now on our way to Port Harcourt, as it was beginning to feel like something was doing all it could to stop me from reaching that destination, especially at the time I planned to be there.

I slept, woke up and we were at Lokoja. Must be around 2am and passengers were allowed to go grab some things to eat, drink and "pee". As usual, I went for things that wouldn't cause me bowel distress, in kebab (suya in local parlance) and water. The driver and his mate also used the opportunity to fill the bus with Port Harcourt bound passengers they met on ground, and that was how I got me a fat man as seatmate, and the journey continued in earnest. The air from outside was chilly, enough to cause passengers on the other side of the aisle to beg that I closed the window to the dissatisfaction of my seatmate who registered his displeasure with a "mtcheeeeew".

All was going well for a while till we heard a loud bang, that I felt came from under the vehicle, and I had hoped for the worst, seeing that I didn't have lots of cash in my wallet, something that armed robbers don't like to see or hear, and for which many passengers had gotten maimed and killed under such circumstances. I quickly scanned the area for means of escape should push come to shove, only to find that the bus was gradually waltzing to the side of the road closer to a light source that turned out to be from a hotel on a lonely road in Asaba, Delta State. There was no sign of armed robbers, nor of policemen. Even vehicles were passing in trickles, and those were mainly buses and cars used for haulage purposes, heavily loaded within, and without especially on their tops, with the load on top for most of them appearing to be larger than those inside the vehicles.

Most of us passengers alighted from the bus, when it became obvious that it was a case of a burst tyre in the first of the four tyres at the left back, and rantings by passengers began, for me the second time since I started my tour (though for a different reason as from with the first). The feeling of something stopping me from getting to Port Harcourt crept in again and I quietly waved it away while watching proceedings. The drivers' mate's attempt to remove the faulty tyre and replace with another met with arguments and counterarguments from passengers who felt he wasn't going about it properly. He managed to lose all but one of the nuts after "jacking" the bus to what some of the passengers didn't consider high enough. As if things weren't bad enough, it started to rain, not in drizzles but torrentially that those of us on the ground had to run to a nearby stall beside the hotel, to escape getting drenched even though we couldn't escape getting cold. The mate continued to try to lose the nut but when it appeared that there might be a case of misthreading which had made it difficult for the nut to come lose, he decided to put the other nuts back in place, after which we reboarded the bus and continued the journey slowly this time, as much as the burst tyre could allow in the rain. It really didn't feel so bad going the way we were going and I wondered why the driver didn't consider this earlier rather than exposing us to inclement weather, and possible marauding right in the middle of nowhere.

By a few minutes after five in the morning we stopped. I thought we were at a military checkpoint, but it turned out to be a traffic gridlock. Vehicles were parked bumper to bumper and for a long time we didn't move until some flicker of daylight began to appear on the horizon. At this point I got down with some passengers to see actually what exactly was going on. We could see nothing. Even when there was movement, it was for just a few feet and nothing more. The stretch of vehicles was so long that it was difficult to see the end. Passengers were now beginning to alight and walk towards the Niger Bridge into Onitsha. I was very tired, and didn't know if I could do the trek. With the issue of the bad tyre at the back of my mind I wasn't sure that once traffic became lighter that the bus won't stop in Onitsha to finally change the tyre. Eventually, I decided to trek into Onitsha against advice I received of another passenger of how far from Onitsha we were. Some exercise shouldn't kill I thought, and the lack of cash didn't help my situation hence I picked my back pack and started my trek.

LUXURY BUSES AND HAULAGE TRUCKS HELD UP IN TRAFFIC INWARDS THE NIGER BRIDGE FROM ASABA.

It turned out to be a long one, and more people were now doing the trek. The reason for the traffic jam became clearer as I inched closer to the Niger Bridge, that connected South-eastern Nigeria, to the Niger Delta (South-South Nigeria) on that axis. I was informed that the day before, protesting members of the Indigenous People of Biafra, IPOB had blocked the bridge and brought commercial activities to a halt in Onitsha (commercial capital of Anambra State and the Southeast as a whole), demanding the release of their leader Nnamdi Kanu, currently detained by the Federal Government on charges of incitement, even Treason and Terrorism (for asking for self determination, and a sovereign state of Biafra from what is today the Eastern part of Nigeria, from the rest). A Joint Task Force of the police and members of the arms of the military were then stationed at the Asaba and Onitsha end of the Niger Bridge to screen vehicles entering and leaving Onitsha, in anticipation of the bigger protest planned for the day.

EVEN LIVESTOCK FEEL THE UNEASE DUE TO TRAFFIC BUILD-UP AT THE ASABA END OF THE NIGER BRIDGE.

Part of my itinerary was Anambra State, and I could simply go in there, do what I had to do and then go to Port Harcourt, but then I must finish everything that day and head for Port Harcourt the next to meet up with my appointment. I considered that if IPOB youths go on with their plan of a mega demonstration it might be difficult to get out of Onitsha to Port Harcourt even if I was able to conclude my business in time outside of Onitsha but within Anambra State. If however I go on to Port Harcourt, I would still get my much needed rest, make my appointment the next day, then enter Onitsha before careering into the rest of Anambra to fulfill my plans there, get some play time even clock some time in neighbouring Imo State before returning to base in Lagos, Southwest Nigeria. I decided while trekking, and now close to the Asaba end of the Niger Bridge to get money first, before deciding what to do next. I figured that my best bet will be to get to an ATM of the old generation bank branch that issued my debit card, so that if it doesn't work, I could go into the bank at eight o'clock and get the much I needed to continue my journey the traditional way, hopefully without making a scene for the embarrassment and discomfort their debit card had caused me the day before. It was then 7am.

'kovich