This Okada (motor cycle) rider will probably make it from the school to the house (or vice versa) in eight minutes.

Around the world in eighty/80 days…I love the phrase, the cartoon and the movie. But for this blog post it’s more like around Nigeria in eight days. As you can guess I’ve been on the move a lot in the past few days, crisscrossing different places in North Central and South eastern Nigeria (six states in all in addition to the F.C.T.) that I’m almost beginning to liken myself to the PDP presidential campaign team in last month’s general elections.

These are the places I’ve touched: Abuja, Nassarawa (passed through Keffi, Akwanga and Lafia), Benue (Markurdi, Katsina-Ala, Zaki-Biam, Gboko), Enugu (Enugu, Obollo Afor, Nsukka), Anambra (Awka, Aguata L.G.A.), Ebonyi (Abakaliki) and Kogi (passed through Ayangba, Ajaokuta and Lokoja).

So what was the reason for my travels? Uhm…to attend to important matters of personal interest. Anyways here’s stuff I’ll rather talk about: contemplations from the travels.

From the much I’ve taken-in in the last eight days I think writing a book on the living, farming and public transport habits of people in North Central and South Eastern Nigeria is in line. Right now I’m a mobile uber store of knowledge that it’ll be a shame if I don’t bequeath some of my knowledge to humanity…I’m just kidding…partially.

The provision of good (tarred) roads…and social amenities in general to the citizenry by the government makes a big difference to the psyche of the people. It determines how happy, patriotic and cooperative they’ll be, how well they’ll get along with each other and how crude or morally upright they’ll become. It’s no wonder then that a lot of Nigerians don’t wear their national team’s jerseys or bathe themselves in national colours during Super Eagles games. They instead prefer to drool over European soccer because that’s a more mutually benefiting investment (top quality football in return for getting high off the passion and fun of the most beautiful sport on earth).

Abakaliki the capital of Ebonyi State surely is one of the neatest towns in the South East! Yes where I visited was around the Government/State House environs (situated in the heart of town) but intuition leads me to believe that places far off wouldn’t probably be different. Having grown up in Abuja and being used to impeccable surroundings I’ll choose to set up shop from scratch in Abakaliki any day over taking a free house in Enugu, Awka, Nsukka or Onitsha (those places are crowded and dirty!).

Forget the fact that we’ve got new, crisp and clean Naira notes; they’ll all eventually get soiled because of the inherent "dirt" in our monetary exchange system. From the drivers, conductors, bus stop and motor park hustlers living from hand to mouth, to the youth corper working for peanuts and still having to fight before giving his rightly due peanuts and the benefits attached therein, and on to the project manager having to deal with the issue of productivity on one hand and the major expense of paying staff salaries on the other hand. Despite all of that there’s still a feel good feeling attached to being hailed and respected as a big boy because you’ve got money to spend on others.

Last point, a cardinal rule to follow when setting up a cyber café is to make sure your business quarters is spacious. Surfing is like working, it’s best done in a conducive environment, and if you want to stand the test of time such an environment must not only be good enough for the average chat-freak teenager but also for a top business executive. Avoid too many system restrictions and do carry out maintenance work on your systems on a regular basis. And off course customer service must be top notch and very professional.

One’s state of mind = one’s mental or emotional attitude or mood. In his song "I dey feel like" because he’s found love 2face Idibia feels like Obasanjo (feels as powerful as a Head of State because his girl loves him), George Akume, Jolly Nyame, Bill Clinton, Nelson Mandela (because his girl fights for him), Jay-Z (because his girl’s as fine as Beyonce), Bola Tinubu, Bob Marley (because his girl makes him high), Abubakar Atiku and Donald Duke all in one. For me, I’m in a job hunting state of mind and this is how I’ve been feeling.

Bank PHB's The Intern Reality TV Show is closely related with my Job hunting state of mind

I’ve just paid yet again another exorbitant taxi “drop” fare. And in my mind I curse Nasir El-Rufai for banning the use of motorcycles “okadas” as public transport in Abuja. It’s meant that non car owners like me whose (everyday) movement involves going to places with no bus routes have to pay through their nose to transport themselves around the FCT’s municipal area.

After the grueling job aptitude tests and the days of waiting the boss man breaks my heart at the interview. Hear him: “Youngman you’re my number one candidate and all but we needing batch A corpers serving in Abuja and you being a batch B corper serving in Benue it won’t just work. Don’t worry I’ll let you know when we have other openings”. At that moment I felt like a girl who’s just been treated to a wonderful night out by her boyfriend only for him to announce he’s dumping her and then give her a good night kiss.

An hour has passed since bumping into Ifeanyi an old acquaintance of mine when I was in the university. Looking exhausted he told me: “Nna Tochi, e no easy oh, na after service life really start”. In my mind I’m like “tufiakwa! God forbid! No be so my own portion go be”. I don’t really think he had taken this advice to heart: “as a job seeker you’re a product with steady competition and so to sell you’ve got to make yourself marketable by continuous self improvement”.

I just saw my friend Chi Babe off and on my way back I’m thinking to myself that it’s a shame how the pressures of life make people stoop low to kiss major ass. I can’t believe she’s the same chick I had a major crush on when we were in the uni. The job and marriage search thing has all of a sudden made her embarrassingly churchous!

I’ve realized that the same way marriage often dissolves friendship between very good girlfriends is the same way finances can put guys out of the league with their long time buddies. That’s really shitty…pitiful.

Yet another change: my I-don’t-give-a-fuck mode is now major. I’ve cut out a lot of stuff that’s not important to me in achieving my immediate and future life goals and in their places I’ve added those which are. I no more identify with (I don’t give a fuck about) a lot of the IQ decreasing content on TV, gossip and low substance blog reads and people who’re not adding anything of positive value to my life. That’s to name a few, on the addition side I’ve taken up a new humble lifestyle.

Lastly my conscience has been telling me to wake up and cut out on the surfing of the internet for interesting things and instead start getting with my GMAT books, NIM-NYSC studies and other nerdy ish and career bound moves.

Yes that’s my state of mind…how I’ve been feeling in brief. But what ever your state of mind, never forget that no matter how the struggles of life might be eating your heart away through the week, you’ll always have the Nigerian Sunday afternoon rice to look forward to. Peace!

Firstly for the records I didn’t vote in any of the 2007 general elections because I was stuck in Abuja and couldn’t get my self to Benue State where I was registered as a voter. But if I had voted it would have been along this line: the ADC’s Pat Utomi for President, The AC’s Adams Oshiomole and Babatunde Fashola for Governor (if I was registered in Edo or Lagos State respectively) and the PDP’s candidates for Abuja Municipal Area Council (AMAC) Chairman and Vice Chair. The elections were relatively peaceful, free and fair in my area and I monitored events on foot, by word of mouth, on phone and in the print, radio, television and online media.

And from my research I’ve come to the conclusion that a lot of Nigerians don’t just know how to loose honourably and accept election defeat. So polls started late in some areas and there were misconducts in “a few” centers, and so what? The invasion of the pitch and the stretching off of a defender of a team who are already six nil down with five minutes to go doesn’t mean a match should be replayed. You would still have lost in any case.

And unfortunately Obasanjo’s fuck ups and the INEC’s Leadership blunders contribute in giving losers something to shout about. And because bad news is always the juiciest the media pounce on that, generalise and blow the whole thing out of proportions (for every original “my voting experience” well written and descriptive blog post there are ten one-paragraph unoriginal “electoral misconduct” blog post in the Nigerian blogosphere). Political losers now build on that, forget about being magnanimous in defeat and the next thing you know they’re holding press conferences accusing their opponents of rigging the elections.

It’s not strange that it’s only the defeated that complain. Even the PDP who have been the most accused turned around to whine in Lagos and Abia States where they lost the gubernatorials. It should tell you something, that rigging (where it truly manifests) is not a PDP only affair and that most people are just bad losers. To them there is no life outside politics and so it’s a deadly fight to the finish.

Let me let you in on something. With a large percentage of people with poor living standards Nigeria is still a place where people will vote for you in appreciation of the gifts you give them and with tribal sentiments. Research show that it’s the poor and ill informed that constitute a majority of the voting populace and since money plays a part in politics the rich political parties reach them, “campaign” and are able to win their votes.

The intellectuals, the media and those who should know better are in the minority. They support the better candidates but are often too occupied with work or pleasures, or feel too big to come out to vote. Their candidates forgetting that money is power and that politics is like advertising (if you don’t advertise you don’t sell) score miserably low in voter education and thus perform miserably at polls.

Adams Oshiomole, Pat Utomi and Jimi Agbaje

I’m sorry Mr Oshiomole; it’s possibly that more people truly voted for Osunbor. You’re a smart chap and I’m sure you’ll keep your self busy and strategise ahead of 2011. The same goes for Jimi Agbaje and possibly Pat Utomi. These unfortunately were the right candidates but with the wrong political machinery.

The title of this entry seems familiar? Well In “fatherhood with Ibe” was (or is, I’m not sure) the name of one of the several columns in Hints; a Nigerian romance magazine which was at its’ peak in the later half of the 1990s. With Exschoolnerd affectionately calling me Papa Ikenna and Yosh shopping for names for his yet unborn daughters I was finally sufficiently inspired to throw out these “notes from the hyena’s belly” (thoughts which have been on my mind for some time. Props to the Naija blogger with a same named blog) on fatherhood gone wrong.

Here’s the first example of fatherhood gone wrong. An old timer who doesn’t carry his kids…sons along in his business moves and is stingy and withdrawn from his own family. He doesn’t womanise or drink neither is he the overly religious type. It’s hard to figure him out except that he’s seriously mistrustful as a result of going through a tough childhood and rise to the top. It’s really a shame that the first time I was able to step foot in his house was upon his death on a consolation visit to the family. Now the grown sons are facing the uphill task of trying to get familiar with their hitherto unknown relatives so as to give pops man a befitting burial as well as trying to put a hand on and coordinate his numerous businesses so as to ensure family survival. That’s the picture from the angle I got to know about him.

The second case of fatherhood gone wrong is the Baba who runs his home like a dictator. He stresses out his kids and embarrasses them in the presence of their friends. The gospel according to Baba is that he can do no wrong. When there’s trouble you’re to blame he can’t possibly ever be at fault. With a bad temper to match Baba shouts down Mama, Mama in defence shouts down the kids and the kids learn fast by shouting down their own unfortunate victims. Baba unsurprisingly can’t deal with difficult situations calmly, he must always resort to abuse, scolding and raised voices. As a result Mama and the kids are now conditioned to think that’s the rightful first step to take in contentious circumstances. The end result is a blood hound family blind to the fact that life can be lived according to the cardinal principals of peace, love and respect despite the challenges along the way.

My closing piece: “Fathers effing up should start to do the right thing”. Whatever man...vote Pat Utomi for president and send me a birthday cheque on April 17th. Peace!

Bill Cosby and fam, fatherhood gone...right!

Fuck the police!
Once in a while I do the night crawling thing or even sef the normal broad day light minding my own business ish only to be harassed by the Nigerian Police. Such encounters only succeed in leaving a bitter taste in my mind about our law enforcement agents and getting me blabbing out verbal obscenities like “fuck the police!” (When I’m not in earshot distance sha) A phrase made popular by many an American rapper. Webbo can clearly relate with me on that. A lot of police officers have so angered me that I doubt if I can ever bring myself to lend a helping hand to an enforcer of the law again. It’s a shame really…on both sides.

Somebody once suggested that extortion and not protection of life and property is the main business the Nigerian Police are into and I strongly agree with him. The situation is so bad that it’s virtually only in Nigeria that one hears the word police and begins to be afraid. An ideal situation is if called upon for questioning by the police you swiftly do so and then go about your normal business.

There’s no dignity in the Nigerian Police profession, people loathe them. In developed countries the police are really your friend. They’re respected by all and sundry starting from the common man on the street all the way to the big time celebrity and business mogul. I still fondly remember when I was a kid of about 6 years old in London, how we would have regular visits in school by Policemen who would come to speak to us about how to cross the road and not talking to strangers. They’d play with us…educate and entertain us and in the end we couldn’t help but look upon them with admiration. Such happening in Naija? Highly unlikely.

The way forward? A major course of the misconduct of the police is their poor salaries. As such their mind has been corruption conditioned as a way to break even. A mega pay rise taking into consideration the risk factor involved in their profession would help to set their minds straight. Also years of negative accustomization to the theory that being a member of the force is a license to be a mild terrorist/above the law should be dealt with by reorientating them to their service duty of keeping watch over society like a loving big brother. Also the low educational qualification levels of many Policemen is responsible for their brutish ways, a new policy of recruiting officers with a minimum qualification of an OND certificate would go a long way to seeing that the force becomes a respectable outfit.

I’m a hustler!
You know how ingenious our 19 boys can be (energy channelled in the wrong direction…yeah I know). Well out of idleness and brokenness I created what could be a potential 19 runs marketing ad (pictured above). I like the professional way I went about relaying my message (although I used one too many slangs). You tell me, could anyone fall for that?

Personality reviews

I suggest you read Lolita's Litanies’ Influences... blog post on Laide, It’s an article by one blogger objectively analysing another. Laide herself (to an extent) took it in good faith. Being a two year deep fan of Laide myself I could relate with a lot of Lolita’s opinions. I must say it was nice of her to do the review.

I’m quite an amateur psychologist, I’ve helped a lot of people out with analysis and dozen other such analyses I’ve kept to myself. I wonder what I would read if one of my loyal blog readers (not to sound egoistic but I’ve being blogging for almost three years now, do the maths) took time out to analyse me bringing out my strengths, my weaknesses and the areas for improvement. I’m not saying such analysis would be the gospel truth about myself because reading a couple of my posts online doesn’t mean you know me in-depth, but it would to a large extent help me redefine myself as out of the abundance of the heart the mind speaks (I blog).

Election disillusionment

A while back I was really excited about the 2007 Nigerian elections and was looking forward to the leadership change. But it’s really sad that as at today I don’t give a fuck about the elections…particularly the presidential one.

With the wisdom gained with age I’ve made a few changes to my past presidential choices. It’s truly sad but a whole lot of the candidates are unworthy to rule or hold leadership positions in a democratic Nigeria. They’ve messed up big time one way or the other that if I start calling names and offences I won’t end. Obasanjo, Atiku, Maurice Iwu, Nuhu Ribadu, Andy Uba, Adedibu, Alao-Akala, Ahmadu Ali, Yar'Adua, Goodluck Jonathan, Orji Uzor Kalu, Iyabo Obasanjo-Bello, Buhari, Ngige, IBB etc. Don’t get me started, in an ideal political setting when you don messed up you resign, apologise to the nation or go to press to clear your name because the collective good of the nation is always above self. But in a country like ours they’re quiet like sitting ducks because as far as you’ve got money and the right connections you can do no wrong.

I wince when I see campaigns on TV or in the flesh like the Benue State political rallies and road processions full of youths wearing white t-shirts with political imprints and making a hell of noise. The same people frustrated by their leaders don’t rebel but instead sell their soul for a few thousand Nairas. I guess it’s like prostitution, have one night of mutually beneficial fun and the next day it’s over to the next guy.

But if I eventually vote (I’m not sure anything will take me back to the remote place where I got registered in Benue State) I might as well pitch my tent with Pat Utomi or Chris Okotie…they’re far more blameless. I have to agree that “peer pressure” pushed me to like Utomi but he’s truly not such a bad guy and by far has greater substance than his competitors. As for Okotie let’s say I’ll have more peace of mind as a Nigerian with him in power than with a lot of the others vying for the same job.

The range of articulate and ideological candidates for the Lagos State gubernatorials is by far better than what we’ve got at the presidential level. The campaigns are great, they seem serious with a supposedly real passion to serve and as I heard they’re even going to hold a live political debate. Anyway Lagos has always being miles ahead of the competition in all spheres so I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised.

least I forget one of my online writing mentors: Uche Nworah (the other being ex-blogger Obifromsouthlondon) came correct with his first book: “The Long Harmattan Season”; a collection of his writings over the years as an internet columnist. Grab your copy today! Yeah I’m living in a glass house, but trust me I’ll get my own copy when I can.

I wake up in the morning and then I stretch up my feet, say I thank you pray and then I brush up my teeth…oophs, that’s from 2baba’s “nfang ibaga”.

I woke up in the morning, had a terrible headache, went to fix me a milkshake. Last night I got me some crazy head, from the girl living next door…wrong again! That’s from Modenine’s “head”. Ok this is me:

I wake up in the morning. Time check 8: am. I smile in acknowledge of Jah’s gift of yet another glorious traeday. Kev, my “roomlord” has gone to school so it’s a characteristic peaceful start for me. I do the clean up bit, test my newly acquired culinary skills and then I’m off to meet my CDS (Community Development Service) group members. Today’s our secondary school visitation; I’m due to give a talk on the dangers of drug abuse. Blimey! I’ve always been clean and I ain’t exactly Gbenga Sesan so why choose me? Anyway Dean has put me through on the talk thing and confidence levels are high. I make good use of imagery and examples with captivating packaging so I give myself a pass mark. But judging by my near embarrassment when asked “why drugs are still being produced if they’re bad for us?” I reckon I have to work on balancing eloquence with real talk substance at all times.

1: am sees me at the Local Government Secretariat for our delayed monthly Corps members signing and meeting. Our NYSC Local Inspector is unavoidable absent so the coordinating rights falls on my co-exco members and I. Over two hours later our work is done. Stormy issues are trashed out, personalities clash but the gentlemen corps members we are decorum is maintained and progress made.

I’m fagged out and so to Bebeto’s spot I go. I spend the evening hanging out and sipping easy with a quartet of my happening colleagues while nearby the NCCF (Nigerian Christian Corpers Fellowship) group are engaged in pious activities. Oteks the rugged lawyer is mouthing off and making everyone laugh as usual, Abayo the free spender is being typically generous, Chimex comes in here and there with his girl related observations while Owen brings life to the discussion with his South-South lingo. Of course Chizzy is being her characteristic nuisance with her endless spasmodic flashes and i-love-you-i-hate-you text messages. My alter ego trae_z begs me to switch off my handset and I swiftly comply with him.

To keep myself entertained I spend the night swange and kerewa dancing with the boys. The Teaching-Practice students in town are holding their send forth party and we’ve been invited to “grace” the occasion. Randy young men are all over the place and the Benue girls are living up to their hype. Trust the larger than life corper image in small towns, I’m generously allowed to feel on some booty. But like Cinderella I’m out before the clock strikes twelve. I’ve got free Globacom and MTN calls to make.

I call up my boys to get the latest on the “bolekaja presidency” and other necessary info. Of course there’s always something new to learn about. I reconnect with my orientation camp girl, Doctor Chick is reading and snubs my calls, Little Sexy Mama loves the bed and is fast asleep but Baby Face makes my night as usual with our marathon conversations. With her there’s always something interesting to talk about. My cell phone battery beeps and I hit the sheets around 4: am, joining the sleep realm where rich and poor are temporarily united in egalitarian brotherhood.

A big welcome to our new recruits: the March 2007 Batch A Corps Members. What type of corper will you be...brains, rugged or flirty?

Two weeks in the villa "no be small thing oh!" I’m just glad that in the end I can say I was wiser for it; I paid my last respects and I gave my mum the befitting burial that she rightly deserved. Props to all who have had my back (via the internet, sms, calls, gifts, words, presence and deeds) over the past few weeks, I can't thank you enough, you made a brother feel loved.

And talking about love, it's now official! After years of languishing in singledom and waiting on love I’ve got me a girl. It feels good to finally find someone who I can afford (to keep). My new boo is a laptop, the Toshiba satellite A110-195! I’m still trying to get to know it better, do a little tweaking here and there and install one or two stuffs. I wish us many fruitful years together (I’m monogamist oriented, hope I don't have to get a second wife or upgrade too soon), and now just like Globacom I can truly rule my world! "No be small thing oh!"

My mum's passing away got me feeling all religious or more correctly coming into contact with a lot of religious...paraphernalia. In my usual religious musings way (don’t mistake my brief writing for simplistic analysis, I’m not one to expound too much in blog posts) I now strongly subscribe to the thought that atheist are getting it wrong big time by living in ignorance. I’m saying the Bible…Koran is too much of a highly structured literary work for one to still doubt that Jesus existed (or that there’s no God/Creator/Supreme Being) and still think that all that are in those books are mere fiction. I mean we’re talking about decades of logical history here, clearly the Bible is no super James Hadley Chase (bookworms fix your favourite author here) novel. Another point is the Mastermind argument (which I’ve always loved) which counters the Atheists’ claim that life just evolved on its own and as such there’s no Supreme Being. The argument goes thus: on sighting a television set common sense tells you that with all its complexity it must have been created by someone/something, it didn’t just evolve on its own. Thus common sense should also tell us that the world/life we live in was orchestrated by some Supreme Being. Yet another point is the barber story. An atheist who was a barber kept blabbing that with all the suffering in the world that surely there’s no God but someone shut him up by asking him with all the mad scruffy haired people on he streets will it be fair to say that there are no barbers? On the other hand…like some atheists I do have good reason to (partially) doubt the Bible and question God as to why he no longer reveals himself as explicitly as he did in the past; but with my Liberal Christian ideology I’m happy to say that I can sleep in peace at night. My brother/sister “no be small thing oh!”

P/S: No be small thing oh! (Nigerian Pidgin English) = It’s not a small matter. The phrase is increasingly popular these days due to 2face Innocent Idibia’s extensive use of it in his new album (titled Grass 2 Grace).

With all humility: The Toshiba satellite A110-195 “no be small thing oh!”

I’m sure that like me you’re tired of my lamentations, but hey what can I do, it’s what it is right now. After several laziness and career thinking bouts I just finished up my eulogy. Couldn’t find the words to rhyme plus my rhyme style wouldn’t even be appropriate (ask the 8 Mile Eminem and Retired blogger Delot, it’s hard work) so I settled with this prose. Amusingly it’s kind of like a combination of my last two posts, hope it doesn’t get y’all down. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you, you and you. I see us doing big things this year…always look at the bright side of life. Oya chop knuckle now...one!

Seriously Missing You; Eulogy to my Darling Mother
It came as a wicked shock to me on December 16th 2006, that mum, you who had been all to me, had a day before passed away. I arrived from Benue that day in high spirits, happy to be free from NYSC issues and really looking forward to the holidays and to showing you the man that I’ve become. Only to be greeted by the sight of throngs of sympathizers and your condolence register. Mum it was utterly surreal grasping the reality that I had been 24 hours too late.

My thoughts wandered all over the place. It was agonizing realising that our phone call three days before would be the last I would hear from you. And that our parting seven weeks earlier (an occasion on which you had given me some sober motherly advice) was to be the last I was to see of you.

When I remember all you suffered for me, the love and care shown to me since birth and all our mother-son conversations I seriously regret every single moment I spent arguing and quarrelling with you and just wish I could turn back the hands of time to take care of you as you did to me.

It’s so unfortunate that one as gentle as you would pass away in a car crash. I really miss you mum, I’ve cried out all the tears in me to the point I’m now crying inside. But being mere pawns in the hand of the creator I’m resigned to the fact that God knows best.

Mum you raised me well, and having my siblings and father to weather the storm with I’m sure that as you live through me I’ll always do you proud. I love you mum.

Your son, Tochukwu (TRAE)

The anniversary of Jesus’ birth has just been celebrated, someone I knew recently answered God’s call and my mum’s funeral is been organized. The burial ceremony has been fixed for mid-January in the villa.

Last contact with mums was on the phone two days to her demise and in the flesh about seven weeks before d-day. I cried when I saw the body…all swollen with the face hardly recognizable. It’s excruciating thinking of how her final moments were. My mum always was an extremely careful driver and a conservative vehicle owner; it’s ironical that she died in a car crash. The experience sure has made me extra aware of the losing a parent/your parents reality.

I’m some how tired of all the talk that I have to do…or that is done during condolence visits. I wonder how the village talk is going to be like…you know speaking Igbo and ish. The condolence visits can be quite inconveniencing when they're long. At times I wish people would just tone down on the outward expression of sorrow, give gifts and be gone. But I don’t blame them though, I understand that they’re just trying to show that they’re touched by our loss and their hearts are with us.

I hate the fact that a lot of money is about to be spent. Why can’t we just keep ish simple? It still would be befitting. Damn the flamboyant African ceremony culture…it’s quite annoying considering the fact that I’m a young man still trying to find his feet and in need of money to get started independently. Them ceremonies (weddings, title takings, burials, festivals) are really nice though…especially when you ain’t footing the bill unwillingly.

I’ve discovered that I’m not in love with events planning (especially the financial aspect) as much as I thought I was. Managing people ain’t as easy as it appears. Responsibility is an eye opener…Amodu, Onigbinde, Chukwu, Eguavoen and Siasia are waste pipes. Ok, talk is cheap; go get management baptism with a high school football team first. It’s a humbler. Also organizing on an unfamiliar terrain will pose some challenges. I mean, me organizing ish in a village I’m not too familiar with...uhm. God dey, I’ve got a requiem speech/poem to write; be safe!

Black Jesus…Birth, death et al