There is God o: The Painful Despair of a Country

Words cannot even begin to describe the full extent of the emotions I feel. I have tried and failed for weeks now to describe my feelings about the situation in Nigeria on this blog, and I have decided to just use words, inadequate as they may be, if only to somehow relieve this burden.

Where do I start?

As a Nigerian living abroad, with most of my family in Northern Nigeria, I read news about home with my heart in my mouth. It seems the good news I hear from home, mostly from family and friends, is overshadowed by the bad news I read and hear.

Even with the 'Kaduna-sharia' experience that I had while in Nigeria and family and friends assuring me that all is well, it is not difficult to see that Nigeria has descended into a state of anarchy where insurgents are calling the shots and everyone else is left in despair.

"The girls are still missing"
"Boko Haram has just killed some more people"
"Another bomb blast o, my dear"
"We need other countries to help us, Nigerian government is powerless"

My emotions at such news range from scared to sad to angry to frustrated to hopeless to incredulity.

On the latter emotion, surely I'm not the only one who thinks such news bother on ridiculous. It's been almost a month now and the girls abducted by the extremists have yet to be rescued, in a country with a functioning military and government? Haba! Just days after a bus-station bomb blast in Abuja, a car was blown up in the same state, just a few miles away from the first? Logic would dictate that security be beefed up to prevent a repetition. But, logic is probably as rare as common sense to the ones who are supposed to be in charge.

Hmmmmmm.

I am not going to start saying all that we are doing wrong as a country, you can just google that. I am going to say, though, that 'religiousness', ignorance, corruption, lack of foresight, and incompetent leadership are largely to blame. But, everyone knows what the problems are, it's the solution that is proving so difficult to implement.One of the simplest solutions in my estimation is for everyone to do their jobs! Leaders have power and authority(?) for a reason, they should use it, even seek out more brilliant minds if necessary!

Let's not expect God to step in when we are clearly not doing our part. That is why I was really impressed by the people who have done what the government could not do - mobilise support to rescue the abducted girls. '#BringBackOurGirls' has gone global and rallies are being staged by Nigerians, both home and abroad, who realise their government has failed to do its job of protecting its citizenry.

When I heard France, China,  USA and Britain were stepping in, I was not surprised. I mean, what else would one expect when one is failing at their job?

The despair of a people both home and abroad is loud and clear; in the now infamous words of the first lady, "Chai... there is God o".  I join in prayers, but believe we can do much more with the power, position, and authority we have.

Part 2: Baba Said (The Offering of a Writer's Block Sufferer)!

When he lifted his head and looked with the corner of his eye, he discovered the eyes were no longer there. Surprised, he scanned the counters. Their eyes met as soon as he discovered her, and he hissed aloud and turned his head.

When he scanned the place again, she was gone. He almost whistled aloud in relief.

In two seconds, he tried to decide whether to run or wait. He decided on the latter, strengthening himself with the fact that he was a man. He frowned heavily and hoped she would get the message.

"You see say ya wife don go, abi?” The man to his right aptly said. Benji even smiled at him.

However, when Benji got to the bank’s gate, a strange voice stopped him.

"Excuse me… excuse me, please…” he heard. The staccato tone made him turn because he could not tie it with the woman’s face. But, it was her. The eyes. It seemed she had been waiting for him. She smiled as she moved quickly towards him.

"Baba said it’s you o," she said as soon as she got to him, her staccato voice mixed with obvious excitement made her sound like a character from a nightmare. But what made Benji open his mouth was what she had said. He had certainly not expected that.

"Excuse me?” he said, thinking quickly that he must be witnessing the beginnings of lunaticism.

"Are you not an Igbo boy?" she looked down at his trousers. “Are you not wearing black jeans? Ah, Baba said it," she chuckled to herself.

"Benji was sure she was going irredeemably mad. He certainly did not want to be her first victim. He began to turn to leave. One gateman briskly walked towards them.

"Please, you will have to go outside... no loitering,” he said as he pointed to a wooden white post with said statement.

Benji was first to get outside, he was about to cross the road when the woman held unto his arm.

"Will you get your hands off me, you mad woman," he yelled and people stopped to look.

"Please, let’s not create a scene," the woman implored quietly, looking worriedly at him. "Just hear me out, abeg."

Benji determined to hear what she had to say, since she seemed so anxious about it.

"So, what’s it? Look, I don’t have time!” he said harshly.

"You see, Baba… one Baba told me I would see the man that would be my husband this week… that he is Igbo and he’ll be wearing black jeans… and,” she had been looking down all the while, but she looked at him now, excitement in her eyes,  “that’s why I said Baba said it’s you.”

Benji was sure that she was mad, and even if she was not, that she was some dumb, desperate woman who had been played on by a charlatan. He was sure if she really looked around well she would see several Igbo men wearing black jeans trousers.

"The lunatic was talking to herself now, and Benji thought it was the right time to escape.

"It has to be you Baba was talking about…you are Igbo, I noticed the accent when you greeted the man you sat beside, and even the way you look… and it’s already Saturday …Baba said…”

Benji was rushing blindly to cross the road, hoping only to get away from the lunatic. He did not even see the car that hit him.

When he came to, he heard the staccato voice muttering about how he ought to get well for her. But he refused to open his eyes. He knew that he was in a hospital. He simply did not want to see her. He wondered if his fiancée would still be in the house now, wondering why he had not returned from the bank since morning. He wondered if she had even tried to call him on his cell phone. The phone ought to be in his wallet, but he could not open his eyes for the life of him.

He felt so helpless under the intensity of her gaze, even now that his eyes were close.

He felt so helpless that he could not stop the tears from slipping between his shut lids. The woman wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of her hand and smiled broadly.

Baba Said (The Offering of a Writer's Block Sufferer)!

I am suffering from writer's block these days, but I needed to share something on this blog, if only to convince readers the blog is still alive (Lamide, thanks for the 'push'). So, I have decided to post one of my short stories 'Baba said'. I would have to also blame watching 'The thin line between love and hate' for the 20th time today for influencing this decision. The story has a Nigerian flavour, enjoy:

The woman bent over the motionless male form tenderly. She was murmuring things to him as though he were listening.

“Darling, you’ll be okay soon… honey, it will be okay… sweetheart, you’ll be fine…” she kept murmuring in a staccatoic accent. Looking at the scene, one would think they had known each other for a long time. However, they had only just met that morning.

Benji had noticed the woman’s more-than-normal attention on him as soon as he had sat down on the bench at the bank where he had gone to withdraw some money, waiting his turn. It was the sensation that someone was staring unflinchingly at him that made him turn sharply to his right, only to encounter a pair of feminine eyes boldly staring back at him. The look was so possessive and assured that Benji shuddered unconsciously. The man beside him turned to look at him and Benji muttered a sorry.

She was sixth on Benji’s right and had leaned forward and turned her head solely to look at him, it seemed.

Benji turned again to look at her, wondering if she was someone he knew who was waiting for him to recognise her. But even as he turned to look at her again, he met the same eyes and realised that he did not know her. No one would have encountered those eyes, even momentarily, and forgot their owner.

The next two hours of waiting for the woman’s turn so he would be delivered from her optical torture were quite excruciating for Benji.

As the woman leaned forward to continue her unconservative regard, Benji leaned back against the wall. The woman leaned back too and Benji leaned forward. Now, almost everybody was looking at the both of them. The woman beside Benji even tittered, obviously thinking it was some kind of game. Benji did not think so and fired her a deadly look. He even contemplated leaving the bank, but thought against it when he remembered that he had no money at home, and had to send some money to the village for his critically ill mother through a friend who would be leaving for the village very early the next day.

"Stupid cash machines," he muttered. If they had been working he would not be in here. He looked down at his empty wallet and sighed. Perhaps that was what he ought to be doing. Looking down at the reason for which he had come to the bank and totally ignoring the witch’s inexplicable stare.

(to be continued in next post ;D)