A Holy Day of Obligation

By

Obododimma Oha

Today is Sunday

And the Sun is rejoicing

A holy day of obligation

Don't cook any breakfast, lunch  or supper

Don't go splitting fuel-wood at all

The axe may cut your foot

And you would fossil eternally

On the moon, a lesson for others

Today is Sunday

For you to die of hunger for Heaven

And do nothing else but watch films about Rapture

Not to think of sweeping your compound

A snake that is disturbed

And wants to prove its presence with a bite

Can postpone its anger

Because it is Sun's day

When the Dog Wants to Get Lost

By

Obododimma Oha

When the dog wants

To get lost, it doesn't listen

To hear the call of its owner

It prefers

To run far into the bush

And away from commonsense

When the dog

Runs wild, checking every anus, 

How can it remember home

Or the dead lizard kept for it?

When the dog wants to get lost

Its  relatives become outsiders

The road to damnation

Must be completed in its estranged head

When the dog wants to get lost

It gets lost

In itself, and does not listen to sounds

What more sense

The dog prefers to die. 

Come, let's reason

By

Obododimma Oha 

Come, let's reason together

For we are human

And commonsense is free

Come, let's reason together

Not perish together like brainless fellows

And walk the fire we can quench

Come, let's reason

Not treason

Against our future

Come, do not go

Without embracing this idea. 

Nne Ewu and the Art of Chewing the Cud

By

Obododimma Oha

It is all about learning from someone who is very close, somebody who came to the world first or who is believed to have helped in conveying  us here. It is about learning through imitation. "Nne ewu na-ata agbụrụ" (When the mother-goat is chewing the cud), a shortened form of the Igbo proverb ("Nne ewu na-ata agbụrụ, ụmụ ya ana-elele"), "When the mother-goat is chewing the cud, its children  are watching") is about learning from an immediate experience. Why would her children, her own children, not want to  imitate her? Why would they like to be her, not just being like her, to live her immortality? Yet, this proverb is a wise warning. We  need to be mindful of the fact that we do and can influence others around us. 

A wise masculinist in our village once asked: "A bad wife and bad children, which can be said to be better?' And the response considered correct is: "bad wife." The justification is that a bad wife could, at some point, decide to leave the marriage, but bad children remain behind and answer their father's surname. In that case, the marriage is regrettable but most regrettable is the scar of having BAD children.

It is a terrible thing to leave badness behind. It narrrates its leaver terribly. Otiriakị ekpoghị nchara aha ya dị na nkume. A peron that cracks palm-kernels on a stone and does not remove the shells has left his or her name on the stone.

The offspring of the mother-goat will turn chewing the cud into an art. Are they not supposed to be better at it? Something more than sheer imitation. If the cud is our badness, the offpring has to take badness even higher. In that way, badness would have grown with generations of cud-chewers. 

It is not particularly pleasant to be seen chewing the cud. Imagine the picture. And to think that the cud-chewer brought back a careless past and is on it still! Chewing the cud means being stagnated on the unpleasant. Chewing the cud is a bad habit turned to a style.

Mother-goat and its children are united in the experience of chewing the cud. Mother-goat teaches with herself. Her children, her watchers, are also her pupils. Her pupils have only one option: "Do as I do; don't think; don't think for yourselves and hope to become a cud-chewer." Chew the cud on this social media; chew the cud on that social media. Chew the cud on listserv. Chew the cud on Facebook.Chew the cud on WhatsApp. Chew the cud because you are a goat and will be a big goat. 

Mother-goat is a great source. And a source that wants to remain a source. It is not because she is transmitting her cud-attitude. Mother-goat would even be happy that all spectators are transmitters of that cud-attitude.

Is this cud-chewing not a wonderful performance? This goat and that goat and those goats are belching and chewing. A performance of the mouth. Cud-chewing deserves to be watched and from various angles. Cud-chewing, testing the sides of the mouth. Cud-chewing showing the participation of molar and premolar.

Yet it is important to be mindful of the nature of the person that we are understudying and learning to chew  the cud. Is this mother-goat teaching us nonsense, as Fela said? What is this mother-goat putting into our heads, into our lives?

That means that "nne ewus" should know that they are touching the lives of others and should be very careful in the performance. Who knows tomorrow? Is it not frightening that being entrusted with younger minds, like students and offspring, means that we would be held accountable for what they have been exposed to? Yes; it is frightening, indeed. So, mother-goats chewing the cud, be careful, very.

But it is even criminal to expect the young ones to use the same old style of chewing the cud. Still chewing the cud is bad enough. A new style of chewing the cud may have something exciting we can see. An old performance can be re-invented.

Whether we are chewing the cud in the classroom, Facebook, listserv, venues for collation of election results, Government House, etc, it is important to realize that we can change or perpetuate things. And that is the very dangerous part. Yes, we can help to make or break.

Mother-goats chewing the cud here and there, I advise you to examine it over again and rethink your been known to chew the cud and a trainer of cud chewing.  

Recording the Talk

By

Obododimma Oha

When my late father made it a habit to be paying me a visit in my room, I thought that he was inconveniencing me. That old man always came when it was most inconvenient, particularly when I was enjoying my sleep. In the afternoon? How could I be sleeping in the afternoon? Was I sick? These  were among his queries if it was  in the afternoon, but he  came mostly at night, when many people were asleep and everywhere  was quite. He preferred the night, for he asserted  that: “Ufu na egbeleke bụ n’ehihie, mana iruro bụ n’anyasị” (roughly translated as  “Playing and gallivanting are for  the daytime, but a serious discussion requiring counselling is for the night.” You see, so he was coming regularly to counsel me, but I did not realise it then. Since he was always awake in the night (so it seemed to me), I thought that he meant to punish me and force to stay awake with him! So, I had no choice but carry my cross. I realized later that he guessed this wrong thinking of mine and it pained him, and I was included in the frustration that he sometimes voiced out: "Nkịta m na-egburu ngwere asabeghị anya" ("The puppies for which I am killing lizards have not yet opened their eyes."

When I was an undergraduate at the university, it just entered my young, noisy head to record some of that seemingly useless talk. At least, I could prevent some future night visits by letting my father know that I could play back the recording and listen to him when I wanted or in my privacy. What a strategy! 

That casual recording was a personal assignment of a sort and you know how one could be highly committed  in such assignments. I quickly bought some empty cassettes and set out for our village. It was late in the afternoon when I arrived and quickly swung into action. I told him that I needed to record the story of his life and luckily, he cooperated. We started and I did not mind all the local noises that were intruding. I recorded all.

 Today, when I play the files, those noises even provide some naturalness to the whole thing.

Many years later, after his death, when I was playing the files to the hearing of my siblings, some almost wept on hearing the voice of the man who owned the homestead and had been buried. Who would not go to pieces on being given a shock like this? 

When I did the recording, I did not know that I was serving the future and helping paternal presence to speak beyond death. Ufu na egbeleke became immortal. Indeed, the recording was one of the most important things to  take away as a memento from my late father.

This is a clear case of technology helping one to relive experience. I am now able to hear that voice again and to listen to my late father tell his own story. Even where one is unable to invoke memory on the thing narrated, the witness is there and can be invited again and again to tell it all as a witness. 

Does it not show that we have been missing a lot by not trying to save a voice before it is heard no more?

 Some lessons from this effort are noteworthy. First, the more authoritative transmission of experience. Then, there was was some serendipitous training on oral interview on culture, history, and life. Another is an additional articulation of personal story and personal life. Of course, we can think of many others.

Let us take this transmission of experience further. The tragedy of African and other cultures has been described by many commentators as the distortion of African experiences because of orality and the process of documentation. Human memory is also not very reliable, coupled with the fact that each re-teller may try to put in more salt and pepper here and there. And with more salt and pepper, don't we also see a distortion? But with some preservation of originality and authority, this distortion is minimized, if not erased.

Also, the person who recorded the narration has had some training through experiencing. There could have been a previous training on collection of this kind of historical data, which becomes an advantage, but the interviewer indeed has attended a practical session involving the learning of the past and early life of the narrator. The practical is indeed "Practical Oral History and Folklore," if we have to find a name for it.

I am sure many are just waiting to see what I have to say concerning memory as being unreliable and deliberate distortion through the addition of more salt and pepper. On memory: we know that it has to be kept green, has to be preserved. But memory sometimes fails and the narrator may just improvise. Improvisation means that, even though one is trying to make up for an inadequacy, one is really being dishonest in  the performance. Has lying ceased to be a human art? This where that immoral conduct is enjoyed by humans and given some fanciful names!

Whereas this and other ones may suggest that society or audience is gaining, the idea of an attempt at articulating one's life and one's story points towards the narrator gaining more. We are often bombarded with a lot to think about in daily life. So, the interview gave the narrator an opprtunity to put X and Y together, stitch bits of personal experiences together to give us a coherent text. Without the opportunity, he probably would not have the time to write a biography few lettered people would read and learn. 

I have said somewhere before that we sometimes learn from the experiences of other people. That is true and exemplified in this case. Listeners get to think of another way of handling the problems handled by the narrator. Is that not already critical thinking skill? The narrrator's personal experiences while in the village, an apprentice-trader in Cameroon, a plantation worker in Cameroon, as well as struggles over marriage and accidents in Nigeria are important contexts from which we can learn a lot.

A recording tries to save, for us to be able to retrieve later. Thus it is like preventing something from dying, making it live longer than naturally designed. Along this line, is recording not helpful to folklore?

To conclude, I am happy and proud that I did an audio recording of my father before he died many years ago, and wish it had been a video recording! Of course, the advantages of such a recording are enormous but real physical presence is far better. Death could be a devastation and a deprivation. Yet, capturing the little presence of people could be enriching and even more consoling than total absence except a gravestone, photograps marked "RIP" and obituaries from the archive.

Technology Headaches

By

Obododimma Oha

Some of us that are not used to modern technology or those used to a different kind technology may have headaches in handling devices powered by modern human technology. To put it mildly, such people are also bad users who quarrel with their tools. Is it in storing and retrieving valued information that one has created? Is it the identification of the appropriate application for an aspect of the information? Is it in handling inevitable problems in modern technology, like one’s computer hanging? Literally, is that device not giving its user some headaches?

Maybe this experiencer should narrate some personal experiences. I was in America for a programme and had the misfortune of wrestling with some technological devices, but learning in the process. Anyway, the story: I had to drop the right amount into the slot in the machine and be cleared first. One is familiar with waiting on a queue and complaining bitterly. Then, the soda would be released to me. I remember going through this process but not getting my drink. Maybe I did not drop the right amount. Maybe. The machine ignored my garagara allegation of “wayo” and the harsh question, “Nothing inside?” Then,  finally finally, the protester had to leave, threatening hellfire. 

On a second occasion, I was to produce my curriculum vitae using the available desktop equipped with a printer. But after typing my document, I did not select the right printer or did not know what to press to get the document printed. I ended up sending the document several times to the printer but succeeded in printing nothing. I was sorely frustrated and just had to leave. Later, I heard that other people wanted to print their documents but it was only my CV that came out. I answered in a low tone that it must have been the handiwork of a powerful juju master and kept my secret.

On another  occasion, I had to photocopy some documents. But, it was between me and the photocopying machine; there was no attendant to do it for me and collect the charge. The same way one, in wanting to buy soft drink (soda)  had to become a seller, too, and the machine was the witness. Nonsense. Finally, I had to leave, hoping that the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) of  my  country would arrest the machine or whoever kept it there.

Perhaps, the most bitter experience some years later in an Abuja hotel was my processing a well-articulated blog article on aviation, using my tablet. But I didn't know what  I must have pressed and the entire document (including its beautiful introduction and excellent conclusion) disappeared. I sweated and searched and searched but did not see it. I concluded that it must have been the handiwork of witches or wizard jealously watching me climb up higher or disgruntled aliens who could not abduct this weak human. In short, I had a poor appetite that evening and a terrible headache.

What keeps reminding me about that experience is the sight of a computer. I know that computers could be a headache, especially in some aspects, like the sudden hanging of the device. This hanging could be very painful. Just imagine this: when one is in a hurry, that is when one’s device chooses to hang. That stupid phone there goes on vacation. That useless laptop refuses to shift the page. Even that idiotic tablet allows strange pop-ups to interrupt. Finally, one in frustration gives up. Nonsense. It is just so annoying, but it is technology headache!

The greatest headache is the impossibility of accessing stored information from a computer because it can't be switched on and one has not been backing this information up! 

I dare not talk about the most recent frustration caused by too much confidence in technology!

So, you now have a little idea of the many "headaches" in this use of technology and in trying to close the gap in such use. One was burned, not just scared of the flames. Yes, one contested with the machine and regretted having ever thought  of such a contest and being naive enough to ask the competitor to complement or become an ally. 

It appears that the competitor cleverly takes over, laughing at one's naivety. The competitor learns to devour or hold up the activity and laughs at the simpleton struggling and hoping for a miracle.

One has even made it worse by making technology multiple, not just special assistant. Mobile phones by the side while one is praying or sleeping or working . Laptop lapped and asking to be fondled so as to cooperate. It had spoken ill of desktop, saying that it was   Old Cargo and Old School, that it should make way for younger blood. And when one is romancing the seemingly irresistible laptop, that jealous mobile phone cries out! Then, of course, there is the ATM that consents or disagrees, otherwise, NO lunch! Of course, one needs this lunch, this  special meal, before taking a tablet from Apple  or Windows. And so on. One has to live or die wired and technologised. And a technologised human has to feel the machine grind inside his or her mind.

The problem now seems to be what to narrate to the doctor about these headaches, the boundary between a  headache and a headache.

Eze Obodo Iduu na Oba

by

Obododimma Oha

Children like tales, especially those with adventures. I remember how we used to rush our suppers to go and sit and listen to the folktales told by an uncle or a grandfather. One character that featured regularly in those tales was "Eze Obodo Iduu na Oba" (King of Iduu and Oba). What was he known for? What were his regular attributes any time he was mentioned in those tales? Let me try to remember:

(1) He was very, powerful, mean, and used to pull out the teeth of his enemies  for fun to celebnrate New Yam festival;
(2) He was a kind of God; anyone that called upon him was sure of being protected; his image was enough fear;
(3) He was very wise and impartial;
(4) He was there invisibly or visibly, and he was only influencing things from the background.

So, this kind of figure was a given; it was taken for granted,unless it has to be invoked once in a while in the tale to resolve conflicts. Since we knew that he was mean and impartial, we could predict what he would do  if he was brought in at any point in the tale. Who says that such givens are not good for very winding and seemingly endless tales?

One character that often called on him or the kingdom itself was tortoise the trickster. Whenever he played one terrible trick and was sinking, or when one big animal that he cheated was about to take him out, tortoise would then call upon Eze Obodo Iduu na Oba and would be safe. In other words, it was a trick, too. Eze Obodo Iduu na Oba was deceived; the assailant was deceived, too. As far as tortoise was concerned, the fellow ruling Obodo Iduu na Oba, who called himself "Eze Obodo Iduu na Oba," was an idiot and a big fool. He could go to hell with his "Eze". That was not the business of the trickster. The "Eze" was a stupid fellow!

Calling on Eze Obodo Iduu na Oba was an exploitation of his powers, for personal advantage. In other words, other people, who may be downright bad, were using him. But he did not know. But we knew and we enjoyed the exploitation.

What kind of wisdom was this, to just sit in the kingdom until one was used and even misused? By our simple reckoning, it was crass foolishness. It was as if one had become a mushroom, which could be eaten by a milipede and picked by a hunter of mushrooms. It was not wisdom but naivety surrendering to the world.

Some historians maintain that "Iduu" is the Igbo name for Benin Empire and so "Eze Obodo Iduu na Oba" was the name of the emperor of Benin. I  do not know much about this and do not have any evidence. I would, therefore, restrict myself to this figure that manifested in the tales we listened to as children. Facts could be very slippery and so one should be careful.

Eze Obodo Iduu na Oba was ruling a great and expansive kingdom. His influence was far and enormous. One, in fact, wonders how he was able to manage these, but the most important thing was that his image was dominant. If he was invoked in a discourse, one should be afraid and wake up. In that  case, even if the action was taking place far far away in one remote jungle, the Eze was watching. In that case, the totalitarian ruler was almost omniscient and censorious. Play your tricks as long as you like, but wait for him. He was there waiting with a big stick at the end.

Was the tellers and transmitters of the tales promoting dictatorship and censorship? This is debatable. But one thing was certain: there was admiration for Eze Obodo Iduu na Oba. He a kind of God as we stated earlier, but he was quite fallible and human. It is Hegel in Philosophy of History that stated that Africa admired dictators and was full of tyrants. He stated that this lover of mischief was not a known historical part of the world. Did you hear that, Eze Obodo Iduu? Before you are finally erased from books written by Hegel, ask my uncles and grandpa to change your attributes in the tale. Humane dictators are no longer fashionable.

One prominent issue was the protection of criminals by the name and image of the dictator. Tortoise was one such criminal but who often passed as a law-biding citizen and an admirer of Eze Obodo Iduu na Oba. But the fact was that tortoise did not give a damn about it and was ready to use a terrible trick to ruin it. So, unknowingly, Eze Obodo Iduu was also a protector of criminals in his so-called "kingdom."

If our common attitude to dictatorship is the main issue, what about indirect statement about the installation of dictatorship into young minds and into societies? You would agree with me: these are worrisome and our celebration of characters like Eze Obodo Iduu requires caution. The main point is that we must watch those narratives and the ways they mould and remould lives; in fact, the ways they handle lives.

Looking for Trouble

by

Obododimma Oha

If your name is "Nsogbu" (Trouble), as in the name, "Nsogbuụwa" (literally, "Troubles of this world" or "Zerensogbu"(Avoid Trouble), and somebody is looking for you, is the person not "Looking for Trouble"? Trouble is trouble, whether an affix or the root word. You are looking for trouble if you do not know that what is just an affix could suddenly become a root word. You should know that change means rankshifting and strangeness is the colour of the time.

The name "Nsogbu" should excite directors of films at Nollywood. That is, when one thinks of eloquent names like "ụkwa," "Akị na Paw Paw," etc. "Nsogbu;" that sounds great. Great and hippy because the bearer can pass as a bad boy and a dreaded fellow. Who would see a labelled "Trouble" and go near it?

In a 1971 album named "Yanga Sleep Trouble Wake Am," the maverick Fela Anikulapo Kuti sang of how pride can ensnare us, making us subject to trouble. This is true. The oppressor is not always an outsider who works against us. The oppressor could be in one's head, so that if one really wants freedom, that inner demon has to be shackled first. That is not to say that the external oppressor is no longer there. The sleeping yanga should not be activated. So, Fela was a mentalist at the beginning? Good to know. Especially if one is talking about troubles.

I feel excited when I hear expressions like: "You are looking for trouble," "You are asking for trouble," "He is looking for my trouble," "You are asking for my trouble," etc. So, somebody wants to activate trouble that is resident somewhere? Fela was right: "yanga sleep, trouble wake am."

It is worse when the "freedom fighter" has been known to be romancing with those ruling, enjoying the bait that comes in many forms. Then, that parrot begins to sing a different song one day. First, the parrot is invited and asked to stop, but this talker continues, thinking that patron saints do not remember their offensive mortality. The "freedom fighter" is later picked up and kept out of sight for a while.

As some people have argued, it appears that some fellows prefer dying in silence ("suffering and smiling") to somebody called a "radical" coming to their community to stir the pot of wahala. Some may be afraid of being free and being able to question how they are ruled. So, whoever makes trouble and looks in their direction, it is argued, is really Mr. or Mrs. Trouble. That trouble-maker should be chased away!

That sometimes happens when those that are afraid of "troublesome freedom" have long lived in deprivation and so see it as the normal way of life. When they have lived in despair and have no hope of getting out of it, chances are that they would not like a talk of "revolution." Revo-wetin? You want to upset things?
So, the irony is that those asking or working for genuine liberation are "trouble-makers." Those ruling and oppressing would even harness the irony, turning lexical items on their heads to favour the government, so that those talking of freedom are branded "trouble-makers" and the very oppressed are indoctrinated to believe it and even propagate it. Sad, if it becomes the pandemic in any society.

What is the business of "security agents" if not to deal with "trouble-makers," those hot-heads who want to "pour sand into the garri" of the fellow in power? Those "security agents" are following orders and overzealous ones can even over-do what they have been ordered to do. The important thing is that they are the "security agents" of the fellow in power, even if this means being the "insecurity" of liberation workers. Whose "security"? in a world where things are on their heads?

Trouble-making quarrels easily with "I am the state" or "the state is me." It is for "I am the state" to define and redefine. If "I am the state" says that you are a trouble-maker, then, you are automatically a trouble-maker. If "I am the state" says that you are a terrorist, then, you have become a terrorist. It does not matter what the dictionaries say or what the professors teach in the classrooms. The meaning authorized and mobilized by "I am the state" is the meaning. Is that not the frightening climate of George Orwell's Nineteen Eight-Four?

Let us reflect further on "Nsogbu" as a name that a popular street tough would likely adopt. "Nsogbu" is coming! And everyone would be alert. Then, the street tough with bad walk passes bye. Didn't I say that Nollywood would easily buy that? The link between the meaning of the name and the bearer  who may have to cultivate other signifiers (bad walk, terrible clothes, way of chewing, toothpick in the mouth, etc) makes the drama appealing. But this is beyond humour and laughter. It is a serious matter that can involve death. Because trouble comes with upsets. It even sends an invitation to its relatives saying, "Come fast. There is somebody who wants his or her life to be miserable." And they hasten to honour the invitation.

When next somebody starts looking for trouble, either through clipped naming or through the law, let the person think. Trouble is listening and will rise to come and will send out invitations.

Nollywood Films and the Wrong Depiction of the Nigerian Village

by

Obododimma Oha

 The stereotypical image of the Nigerian "village" in Nollywood films is that it is a territory of evil, duplicity, and a context people just have to escape from in order to progress. This thinking has grown into a big superstition which propels business for non-creative scriptwriters and film-makers. But the "village" is really a place in transition and does not always contain the conservative systems ascribed to it. At most, what is ascribed to it may be mere fiction -- which viewers regard as hard facts sadly --  and this fiction only exists in the imagination of scriptwriters and film-makers who may be out purely to make money. This brief essay reminds us that we are dealing with fiction in looking at the village through the films and that we need to be very careful instead of using what we view to reinforce our prejudices and seek to run away from the "village."


First, just look at the kind of people posted to act as devils in the "village." They could be school dropouts, petty thieves, and pocket rulers who wear unwashed red caps. These people are arranged as gate-keepers who kill progrssive ones from the "city." Hardly does the "city" inflict its own shit on village life. So, it is true? If you go to your village, they will kill you! You will come back a corpse. Let us remain in the city. So, it is just between my husband and I. No interaction with village people or with town union.  You want to appear before them? Didn't you see that film last night? Chineke e!

And so the naive fellow keeps away, at least, in the interest of peace in the home.

The village is populated by vultures. When they kill, they eat. Moreover, you only take corpses back there to bury and they bring out their antiquated notebooks and check the dead fellow's fines (if the dead fellow registered by mistake). So, the village is a vulture, only receiving dead bodies.

Indeed and ironically, somebody can have fleets of cars and live like a king in the "city" but will only have one room (probably shared with siblings) in the "village." The village knows hunger and starvation. The village knows poverty in the midst of affluence.

Do you see one reason why escape is necessary? Escape from poverty. Escape from backwardness. Escape from want.

The escapee will soon come back, after  getting involved in a money ritual, and will be awfully rich. The escpee-returnee may be driving one flashy jeep and may become an instant celebrity. Songs would instantly composed and funny dance exhibited. Welcome escapee-returnee, but don't hope to go back to the "city" without being infected first.

How can you talk about the "village" without talking about charms? Charms waved over what you have been given to eat. Charms around your house. Charms somewhere at your building site, to tie your hands and stop the money. Charms around your beautiful wife, to stop her from conceiving and bearing a son! Check mother-inlaw's tongue! Charms everywhere. Charms more powerful than COVID-10. Evil fellows! No wonder you are down there in the bush.

So, the "village" may not be charming, but it lives and moves and has its being in charms. Beware. Be aware.

Do you see that retired Baba and that retired Mama? They have stayed back in the city to enjoy all the noise and pollution and not go back to the village. That old Baba is looking for a retirement job and may be employed somewhere to cut grass with a rusty cutlass and man somebody's gate. Is it not better to have somebody who is halfway in his journey to the spiritworld look after the gate? Okara mmadụ, ọkara mmụọ. If previously a lecturer, aah, there are private and faith-based universities to retire to and start getting cheap stress from students. And the old Mama: she is selling groundnuts and roasted corn at the junction. What is the point retiring to the dangerous "village"?

We can see that the the Nigerian "village" is depicted as a terrible headache. Only those who worship Satan and are hardened ritualists survive there. Going to the village? Maybe because one is mad or wants to use power to fight power.

This twoness of space in Nigeria is antithetical. Of course, societies that are postcolonial but still patronise London and Washington may be used to twonesses. Even this essay; it is either with American English or British English. One colonisation gone, another colonisation instituted. Also, the city there, the village here. Even village cities and city villages. Contradiction. Contrary diction.

It is even more disturbing when fiction becomes reality. Why would villages not be seen as zones of evil fellow if chimps and snakes can swallows millions of dollars? Why would villages have skyscrappers but bad roads, while cities enjoy pitch darkness for days? When contradictions become normal, films that imitate life can fabricate, making fiction look like fact and many believe this.

Moreover, with social isolation, where does one go for moonlight play? Is it not better to be glued to African Magic or any other movie-oriented station, and to swallow what it gives out? So, you see. Nollywood is helping social isolation, otherwise many would run mad. They just have to chew something.

Sorry, "village." As you are transiting, this idea of being "a village city" may have its discomforts. They have depicted you as an evil empire. But that may even be an introduction.

"Stay Safe"

by

Obododimma Oha

Some network providers in mobile telephony and even banks know that times like this need slogans. But, we have to "stay safe," both from what the slogan is doing to us and from the perilous time. Slogans could be pretentious and ceremonial as aspects of social discourse. That is even more why you need to have  immunity from them.

This looks like being insensitive or as if one has just  dropped from Mars. One is unsafe here, in the first place. Unsafe from the bullets of security and insecurity agents. If one does not diminish, one could perish. Just like that. So, telling you to "stay safe" is either a joke or a statement of what you already know. You have always been unsafe and can do little or nothing about it.

But beyond what you already know, take note of this. It was Abraham Maslow who saw security or safety as one of the important needs of human beings. After physiological needs, we have safety needs coming as human basic need. In that case, we can easily see that safety is very important and are not surprised that it can be capitalized upon to pretend to look after our interest. Only clever manipulators can do this. And hardly can we think that our simplicity is being played it.

OK, we care for you. Granted. Stay safe from a pandemic. Stay safe from bad leadership. Stay safe from our exploitation? Network providers always have ways. Biting your poorly-washed fingernails and blowing some air to make the host feel comfortable and not think of being attacked. Like hungry but clever mice.

But let us face it: the slogan is an attempt to manage an impression. It could be that the source of the message cares, especially at a time like this. It should make the government agency that grants or renews licences happy when it comes to attending to the well-wisher. It is, in fact, one clever way of staying safe with a government that talks about corruption. So, networks, stay safe, too!

If you say "Stay safe,"you are not only a well-wisher but also reminding us about what we need to constantly think about. Some have even removed the name of the network and have substituted it with "stay safe." The new name is now "Stay safe." That renaming is some sacrifice, a lot of sacrifice. Imagine substituting your network identity with a reminder. Please, "Stay safe."

My network is now "Stay safe." Whenever I use my phone, I am sending out the message through "Stay safe." In fact, "Stay safe" is the metamessage. Is that surprising?

This safety need which is a reminder which is a warning which is a renaming.... is not like every other slogan. It is inscribed on every casket of suspected victims of COVID-19. The slogan makes one lose appetite. One is being reminded that death is waiting and watching with arms folded.

There a very thin line between CARE and SCARE. "Stay safe" could be both. Sometimes you could be given a scare in the process of showing care. It is just one letter, "s" that separates "scare" from "care," but sometimes one attacked by COVID-19 may realize one as the other.

My worry is this: I suspect that communication experts have asked my network providers to reach potential victims with slogan, but I know that tragedy is more than a slogan and cannot be compensated by one. All the same, "Stay safe" in this endtime.

Feeding Your Eyes and Offending Your Mind

by

Obododimma Oha

Many experts would agree that feeding has a psychology. One has to enjoy one's meal. Taking a meal is not the time to overlook the food or eat absent-mindedly. I know that many people are now attached to phones, TV shows, films, etc. They like feeding their eyes and by so doing feed their minds. But this kind of feeding of the mind can conflict with and offend feeding the body,  so that the food we ingest is mere excess luggage. The body cannot be insulted or bribed when the mind is somewhere else. This essay  is simply saying that both are good but have to be done appropriately and in a non-conflicting way.

Phones and films are great stressors and means of killing time. The local Igbo who describe films as "elelebe ejeghị ọrụ" (That which somebody watches and fails to go to work) are very right. Such activities can consume our time if we are attached to them.That means that we should use them wisely. Like every habit, they try to control us. We should not let that happen. Is it a phone call when one is in the middle of something? NO; let it ring out. Is it God calling you? Later you can check and see the "missed Call" and return the call. Same for the films.Don't let the attachment to "ezemmụọ syndrome" lead you to forget that you are putting your android phone inside the soup and not some salt.

But this is about feeding and insulting or offending the mind. When you need to watch your favourite programme on TV is not the time to pretend to attend to your stomach. That is also not the time for "ezemmụọ." Your stomach is asking for a lot of care; is it? Your stomach has to respect modern multi-tasking; is it? Please, feed while you feed and watch pictures while you watch.

Watching pictures would help you to laugh, to smile, to chuckle, to unburden, to take life easy, etc. But it would also make you feed on the raw emotions of others, internalize such, and temporarily step out of yourself to be somebody else or to sympathize with X and Y and be a partisan politician. When you are at table, that is not the time to play all that politics.

It could even be worse if eating and watching pictures are jointly done just before turning in for the night. So, someone has to go to bed with all those emotions burdening one's mind, coupled with the sad experience of COVID and cattle militia? It is highly possible that the fellow would have bad dreams or start shouting while asleep and kicking the next sleeper like football. Even the supper that is taken absent-mindedly may be digested absent-mindedly by the body, leading to indigestion. But the body and the mind need to work together on the food and happily, too. Absent-mindedly ingested, NO.

There was a lady supervior of cookery that I was lucky to have come across in Lagos sometime ago. She would stand to see you served and would then say, "Enjoy your food." That became her signature greeting equivalent to "Bon appetit." I am beginning to realize how right she was. Enjoy your food and do not be distracted. Enjoy our creativity that comes as this food. Enjoy the beauty of this food and the beauty served as this food. Just enjoy.

And she would be beaming with smiles, as if one has to eat her face first, then, eat the food.
Am I beginning to sound like a motivational speaker? An expert in cookery? NO. None of these. Just an idiotic fellow telling you also to enjoy your food. Telling you on behalf of that lady beaming with smiles somewhere. I wished the warmth of her smile and her good wish would follow me to every table.

Didn't I say that watching pictures was also feeding of the mind? Indeed, what you see is what is fed to the mind , what is thought about. So, at other times, be careful with what you feed to the mind. I don't blame those children who easily lose interest in "crazy" adult programmes and prefer to play with their toys. Those indigestible narratives that adults use in complicating their lives. Those painful but "stupid" quarrels. Abeg, I won't play with you again.

Well, you have got it. When you watch your disturbing pictures is not when to pretend to be eating and enjoying your food. Your food is your life. Enjoy your life. If you want to disturb that life later with sad pictures, you can do so.

Watching a film or TV while eating is not always good for your mind and body that receives the food. Eating has a psychology. Those in the film or TV won't know that you are eating if they say or do something that would make you lose appetite. Respect your table today.

Trouble-maker

By

Obododimma Oha

If you still know
the difference between right and wrong
You are
a trouble-maker

If you do not accept
that the abnormal is normal
You are an unrepentant trouble-maker

If you do not think
that a snake can enter
a well-guarded State House
and swallow millions of dollars
You are a terrible trouble-maker from Mars

If you believe appointments are ethnocentric
it means you have been reading too much
narratives of conspiracy, and need to COVID-mask
as a trouble-making spirit
dancing naked in the global village square

Trouble-maker
Rabble-rouser
dangerous citizen
a cocked AK-47 pointing to your head.

Some Interesting Local Re-articulations of Some European Names

by

Obododimma Oha

Taking European names when one is an African may be seen as a sign of being bought over culturally, being fully identified as colonized, but it is seen by some Africans as being modern, being liberated from the bush and its identity, or being converted. I know that no European would normally want to be addressed as "Mr. Okafọ" or "Mr. Okeke," a native of Italy or Greece. But some Africans are very proud to bear European names or try to make the names sound European. In this short blog essay, I reflect on this practice of bearing European names as Africans and particularly how these names have been re-imagined and re-articulated in my local area in Nigeria.

Local people need to be familiar with European names that others bear. Is it not for identification? One has to identify the bearer but one has to show familiarity with the label. So, local people in our village try to impose a familiarization strategy: they re-articulate the labels in a way that the village can recognize. Thus, a label like "Joseph" that somebody  hangs on himself is realized as "Jesiefe" and "Cornelius" becomes "Kolonuusu." You want me to bite my tongue? I have to pronounce it the way that we pronounce it, particularly so as not to bite my tongue.

Okay, names like "Wilfred," "Alfred," "Gregory" and "Grace" ask one to do a little press up to get ready to articulate them. Local people can only think of "Wilfred" as "Wulifreedi,, " "Gregory" as "Ngiringori," and "Alfred" as "Arụfreedi." Would any law on masking in the National Assembly also deal with someone who calls "Grace" something like "Greesi"? I doubt it.

Maybe Igbo language should be partially blamed for this. The language trains its speakers to follow certain patterns in the realization of sounds. Now, you want a person who wants to appear European to do a surgical operation on the tongue or to write a fervent protest letter to Chukwu Abịa-amụma, complaining bitterly about being neither here nor there? You want one of those?

A person is also encouraged in some churches to bear these European names, that they are saint names that serve as passports to Heaven. The original bearers were not local people somewhere before becoming saints. By the way, why is it that these saint names do not include Okeke and Okafọ? And why should I quarrel with bearing saint names and be hated by the saint colonialist who has gone up there?

Further, there is something about looking like the other to become the other in this that I do not like. So, the hosts of Heaven cannot really take me as I am, along with my local name? So, I must appear to be a saint to become one? So, the politics of naming and change of a local outlook even extend to Heaven? Too bad. Let us see how my local name and language are offensive to the authorities "up" there.

As one protests and riots over the politics of naming and re-naming, one cannot help but laugh with the local people in our village when they they re-articulate "Patrick" as "Patriki," "Festus" as "Festuusu," and "Felix" as "Felikisi." Why can't one elongate the name a bit, out-doing the original in modernity? Why can't some syllables be inserted here and there to make one's tongue a bit relaxed?

You see, people in our village are heroes. They  do not have to be world-class theoreticians of onomastics or or decolonization, but they have done a great job. Imagine decolonizing these names without waiting to get permission from Abuja! They also do not ask for any university degree before they can be reognized. If you are "Cornelius," be sure that you are simply "Kolonuusu" in our village. If you are "Wilfred," you are simply "Wulifreedi." The local people are not afraid of you.

Some Interesting COVID-19 Protective Face Masks: Commitment to Survival or Artistic Performance?

by

Obododimma Oha

COVID-19 has almost turned many into masked figures, with their presentation of many types of coverings as their protective masks. It is suspected that the air might be a chief means of transmitting the virus, and the air is shared. Mask covering the mouth and the nose is recommended for preventing an entry of the virus into the body. There is also the conspiracy theory that masks sold by major organizations may be produced to infect many or secretly designed to implant a dubious control chip. For some who think that they are very clever, it is an easy way of ripping people off and making money. In this case, they could mass-produce and sell masks and encourage their use, but they have another agenda. That, of course, is happening, just as some may like an on-going war because it helps them to sell their weapons or bags of beans needed by troops somewhere.

On the other hand, the COVID-19 experience has almost turned protective mask-making into an art. This article is interested in exploring briefly this kind of art that makes the mask a source of fun.

Some Facebook friends have been sharing some of these masks. For instance, Toyin Mojisola-Adegbite Makinde. One may be interested in why she is doing that. One reason, I suspect, is that the mask represents a unique playfulness and there is an attempt at humouring COVID-19 (that means, laughing in-between tears).

Here are some spectacular updates of some funny protective masks on Toyin Mojisola-Adegbite Makinde's wall:
               
                                       (1).

(Taken from an update on Toyin Mojisola- Adegbite Makinde's Facebook wall, but photographer unknown ) 

(2)

(The Ape Facial Mask, taken from Toyin Mojisola-Adegbite Makinde's Facebook wall, photographer unknown). 

(3)

( The Bra Face Mask, taken from Toyin  Mojisola-Adegbite Makinde's Facebook wall, photographer unknown) 

In the second case in which a chimpanzee is mimicked, Wale Sobande in his comment writes: "This is coro monkey facemask." Sobande is right: obviously, there is an attempt to make us view masking as a way of taking the identity of the other. And why not steal that of a chimp that likes imitating a lot? It remains for the mimicry to be extended to walking on all fours and making a monkey-like guttural sound. Is that too fictional?

Mojisola-Adegbite Makinde also brings gender into this masking practice. We could see this clearly in the dressing of the masked figure in a woman's gown. But of the third image of the mask from her shuts one's mouth completely: a woman's bra is used as a mask! Surprising! Or, rather, alarming! Is what is important not the covering of the mouth and the nose?  If bra could do that, fine. And really every mouth or nose has touched what the bra is used in covering. But we are subtly reminded what the bra is originally used for. The secondary use is your own headache. In this case, the underlying idea of breast is just implied and is left to the reader-viewer.

This is where interpretation of signs comes in. Is the breast naturally tied to bra-wearing? Why not COVID? If not, why not?

Then, the worrisome aspect: women are sometimes associated with evil and disasters in male-oriented narratives. Ask Adam and Eve. Ask Delilah. Ask Jezebel. Ask Lady Macbeth. So, a woman's bra taken over by COVID, a global health disaster, reminds us about those terrible narratives. But COVID is not a woman. At least, one is not saying that it is. But COVID is disastrous!

All kinds of things have been used as protective masks, even tin. But also in some cases, one finds very strange, total covering of self, a clear humouring of the masking practice.

Perhaps, very direct to the masquerade link is the update by Chidozie Chukwubuike, in which we have following text: "If we knew we would all eventually be performing as masquerades perhaps my village wouldn't have cancelled our Ekpo masquerade festival in deference to COVID-19." The visual image of a masked self tells the rest of the story.

(Self-masking by Chidozie Chukwubuike, from his Facebook wall)  

For Toayofunmi Diya-Ayokunnumi, a more factual play on masking is also worth considering. So, she uploads the following information for our attention on masking:

(The Hard Facts about Masks and Masking, on Toayofunmi Diya-Ayokunnumi's Facebook wall ) 

She further explains that: "All is good but to be use (sic) at moderation. Excessively usage of N95 might implicate some respiratory complications. Why? It would congest C02 to less aeration." That sounds too Chinese!

Anyway, we could see that making just anything a mask is not protection but a mere performance. And that is the heart of the matter. Humour aside, performance aside, this is about survival. Covering the mouth and the nose is not just out of fun. It is about life, a desire for survival and a visual statement saying that. So, we can enjoy the joke of our miserable selves, but we should look beyond that and struggle to survive.

A Gbanjo Trader, Once Upon a Time

by

Obododimma Oha

Have you encountered a real gbanjo trader armed with a bell and his sweet tongue, inviting attention to his goods on the ground? "Gbanjo" is a Yoruba word  for what the English would call "auction," but that gives us a poor translation, for a "gbanjo" person does some other things. The Igbo would call this "gbanjo" something like "mgbuka" (cutting to bits or pieces) (alternatively, "ire na ntụ," or "selling as ash thrown away")  but this near-synonym is not acceptable to us, for "mgbuka" has something derogatory about it. The "gbanjo" person is not really "cutting it into bits," as the Igbo name sugggests. Anyway, the Igbo derogatorily refer to the "gbanjo" businessperson as "onye mgbuka." Also, in their naming is the implication that "onye mgbuka's" goods are of low and terrible quality. But we know that superior goods could feature in "onye mgbuka's" heap. Which is why this article partly reveals the slippery wisdom we used as "gbanjo" businesspeople once upon a time.

In my own part of Igboland, children are trained to be self-reliant. Right from infancy, they are exposed to the idea of struggling to be a success on one's own. So, when I was just a child, I was a dealer in kerosene and would return from school only to head for the market with my galon of kero and beer bottles for measuring the fluid for buyers. I used to have a strategic location in the marketplace, so that buyers would easily see me and my ware. This required being sharp-eyed to see when a bottle is approaching or when a bottle is hiding in a bag, especially if there were other competitors selling kero. But I supplemented this with going round and picking the bottles and knowing each owner, to ask the owner to pay later at nightfall when going home. So, one was used to making money by this means, or joining adults in their contributions in meetings which would be shared before a major feast like Christmas.

What it means is that one could approach the feast richer and could buy things for oneself. What gave joy like a shirt or footwear one gets for oneself? That was a special wear! And the feast was a special one!

So, one was already used to the culture of self-reliance which came up now and again. it was in the spirit of this culture of self-reliance that, during our long vacation, when I was only going to Class Three in the secondary school, I went to spend the "holidays" with a cousin who was a "gbanjo" trader in Imo State in Nigeria. In the one room that he shared with other traders, I was asked to find a corner and to occupy it. I did so. The "house" was in the heart of a market and its walls were made of zinc. That kind of house was called a "batcher." Well, my gbanjo cousin did not even mind.

In a few minutes, he explained their frugal ways: we had to go a kilometer away to fetch water in the night, we had to buy supper and it could just be leftovers of things, we had to sweep the premises, the landlady came once in a while  and was a fighter; in fact, as a no-nonsense woman, she could pour acid on anybody (something I witnessed once!), our toilet was that open street! And so on.

Over to the real "gbanjo" experience. On a marketday somewhere in the vicinity (provided the ware was ready and waiting), one would leave very early to get a ride at the back of a pickup van with some market women. The ride could be hard and challenging, but when one got to the market, one would quikly jump down or be helped to do so. One could  get cramps after such a long and uncomfortable ride. But that was to be expected and was just an exercise or personal training.

Then, to the heart of the market on arrival. One spread one's nylon on the ground, brought out one's bell, and one's carton of wares. Then one went to the food sellers to buy breakfast and eat it fast. Time waited for nobody. After that, one had to pretend to be a buyer and confirm at the shops the prices of the wares that one brought.  If one brought camphor and a wrap was ten kobo in the shops, one cut one's price to five kobo. That was it.

When the selling began and the "gbanjo" business person was with the bell inviting attention with some sweet words or drama, even those in the shops would come to buy and resell later. They could buy in large quantities. that meant more gain. Their logic was that, instead of going to Onitsha to buy which could entail offering bribe to police on the way (apart from other risks), the best thing was to buy from the "gbanjo"  trader. Let the "gbanjo" trader carry or take away the many risks.

To say the least, the profit was not much for us as "gbanjo" traders but before long we were ready for home, ready for another market elsewhere in the state, collecting our little profits. Those who wanted to sell a wrap of camphor (which may be discoloured at point due to age) for ten kobo could wait for buyers for months or even years. The "gbanjo" businessperson had moved on.

The next day, the "gbanjo" businessperson living in a "batcher" would climb into another crowded truck and head for another market in the local community. But one was not worried since one was sure of making little money during the holidays and buying things for oneself.

I remember these "gbanjo" days with great pride. Today, as an elite person, one has to live a life of falsehood, giving the young ones the wrong impression that going to school means depending on other people for life. Nonsense. One is here on earth on one's own. If one chooses not to struggle, it could be terrible and worse tomorrow. Onyemaechi? Who really knows tomorrow?

The End of Speech

by

Obododimma Oha

Think of an absurd situation in which people have to carry their ideas and things they want to talk about as enormous luggage on their heads. When they meet other people and want to talk to them, they carry down the luggage and start gesticulating. The kind of absurd situation Lemuel Gulliver describes in his encounter with the people of Laputa.

As you may argue, this kind of world is inconceivable and can only give stalled transactions. But it seems acceptable to institutions that privilege silence, or encourage people to speak less. It could particularly appeal to bee-keepers (who have to maintain silence when approaching honey-bee hives, to avoid upsetting the bees and getting stung). But human beings have to disturb the air acoustically and attach meanings to the sounds they produce, which they call speech.

 Interestingly, too, experts on sound production in  humans tell us  that that kind of process of attaching meanings to sounds comes much later in human development. In fact, they argue that the production of sounds as  a form of communication with other agents is a secondary function of the organs we assign to speech production. They inform us that the so-called speech organs (lips, tongue, mouth cavity, nostrils, etc) were primarily designed by nature to serve our feeding and survival and not for speech, that speech was added by us later. That means that those parts of the body were trained later to produce some sounds and their transformations! So, speech, you are still a late-comer, and should be prepared for the treatment mapped out for late-comers!

Well, it looks like speech has got into trouble out there where functions are strictly policed, maybe partially for coming late. It has got into trouble with those processes with which it has to share the air, like air-borne diseases and their relatives. One may be making light a very tragic situation in the COVID-19 experience if one links up the wearing of protective masks to that idea that speech is a late-comner who has to wrestle to get out of the luggage people carry to communicate ideas and the frightening possibility that it is in trouble in sharing the air and may come to a bad end.

Am I protecting my speech (maybe falsehood or non-chalance) or protecting my life when I wear the mask? Please, I am for safety and not dying due to carelessness, but one has been trained to examine life, for, as the ancient Greeks used to say, "An unexamined life is not worth living." Let us help speech to survive the pandemic, too, for the pandemic seems to force people to mask the exposed parts also used for speech.

If one protects one's speech and prevents it from being infected through the spreading of fear, fake news, and conspiracy theories, one is not doing the objectionable. The fact that modern life involves a deluge of information, which one also has to sort frequently, is itself a pandemic. Many are killed by information that pursues them here and  there. If one has to survive the news pandemic, one has to be in charge of one's mind and not submit easily to everything conveyed in language on the Internet.

I feel strongly for speech as a late-comer. If some useless humans have to be erased and a new world would emerge, then a new speech is needed (to emerge, too). The old speech may come conveying the absurd luggage from the old world. And that is not good. New world, new speech. And this new speech may have a different character and not borrow body parts as speech organs.

Perhaps the new speech has to learn from sign language, even though it has to avoid reminding one about the Swift absurd syndrome.

The end of speech should mean another form of communication free from viruses. Let us understand when the anti-virus would be produced before the creation of the new speech. Let us also be made ready, in the form of training, on how to convey our meanings in it, just like the production of sounds and the funny attachment of meanings to them. Training of the body and of the mind that conceives.

No, no need of the cremation of speech that has been taken by the pandemic. We can build archives to house things of the old life. We can actually use technology to mimic meaning-making in the
old life.

Perhaps the new human will speak through the anus instead. Perhaps the new human will not need to modify the stream of air at any point and will just produce one long guttural sound. Don't ask how meaning can be negotiated. The human being may just see another and proceed to scan the other's mind, to determine intention. It is a new day and a new language is needed.

The end of one speech: the beginning of another.

The Road to Survival

by

Obododimma Oha

If I tell my children that during the Nigeria-Biafra War, our main sources of protein and sustenance were mice, crickets, lizards, and numerous vegetables, I look like somebody who has been watching the exotic African film titled "Mr. Bones." But it was real and I was a character in that struggle for human survival. Yes; we ate funny things and they were supplied by the Maker in abundance in the Biafran countryside. We enjoyed them as baskets left after feeding on two fishes and few loaves of bread. And we rubbed our stomachs, thanking the Maker, too, for listening to our voices: Bia nuru olu anyi, nna bia nuru olu anyi! (Come and listen to us, father, come and listen!).

That means that one has got some experience of surviving in a disaster or life-threatening situation (even though disasters and their challenges may differ from context to context). That experience is helpful, for experience is still the best teacher, not the teacher with the longest cane.

That little experience shows me that survival is for those who can adjust or adapt to new situations, not those who stubbornly stick to their old ways. The Igbo were right in saying that: A naghi ano otu nga elele mmanwu (One does not watch a masquerade performance from only one spot). The performance requires moving around the square (including the global village square!) (and that movement is part of the performance, too). One who does not move around is asking to be hurt. Such a person may be flogged by  the masquerade. And if the person is rooted to a spot, other watchers may be wondering what is wrong with the fellow. Maybe the fellow has come with a witchcraft and has been charmed. Maybe the person has been struck by a thunderbolt from the hands of Amadioha on account of the numerous charms worn. So, watching a masked performance from only one spot is unusual, very!

As a result of that knowledge, we knew immediately that when we prayed, "Give us each day, our daily bread...."the bread could come as crickets and lizards. We were ready to adjust and that saved us. We were also ready to pick up the remnants for another meal, instead of leaving them like spoilt children and disturbing our heavenly father every time.

Our eyes were also open and we were ready to see things and to improvise. Those who want to change their ways should come down to earth and discover alternatives. Was it not how our ancestors discovered that pumpkin leaves, water leaf, and yam tubers could be eaten and also used as medicine? With all our learning, which new consumable have we found in the bush, apart from old ones we try to modify and transform to eat? Is it noodles and rice we could find to eat? What other things have we identified, which our ancestors did not know, apart from our fine taste of modernity that recommends that we abandon those as backward things? Even Corona virus, have we candidly asked the bush for a solution?

One can see that, as one of my neighbours once pointed out, elitism is a culture of self-deception. Elite culture tells one that it is low-down to come out of a government-owned house and harvest a bunch of oranges or mangoes, instead of waiting until outsiders harvest them and sell back to the elite person in the marketplace. Elite culture tells that lazy fellow that he or she was created only to read books. Then, eat, sleep, and bath. Elite culture is a bad culture. With all our learning, we still cannot find an instant cure for the virus within hours! With all the universities, polytechnics, colleges of education, etc! It is good and symbolic that they are all closed down, for they have failed  woefully.

So, my children, stop laughing at me as Mr. Bones. That Mr. Bones was able to solve his problems without wearing masks and crying because a virus has chosen to commit suicide in the peppersoup pot.

Look at the birds of the air and other wild animals. Do they fear or show their worry for COVID? Are they not on earth here with us? Yes, they, too, have their typical diseases. Many. But that is not the issue. So, don't go there. perhaps we need to follow them around and  find out where the magic is. How can they be so happy and unworried?

The road to survival is populated by those who can use their heads, not those who show arrogance over the little that they know.

Social Distance

By

Obododimma Oha

Sometimes, politicians and other social actors define what words should mean for us. They can even give new meanings to familiar words and we have to queue up and accept them one after the other, same way we can kill other people for a politician to win at an election, or queue up for hours on end to vote for politicians from whom we have collected some bribe money. So, we could see that politicians and other significant social actors tell or lecture us on what "distance" means and know that "social distance" can be something done to the population, using the population. The novelist, George Orwell, author of the popular
1984,was known  to have shown his annoyance over  this in his essay, “Politics and the English language. ” Indeed, his annoyance is justified.

If social distance is interpreted to mean keeping away from everyone, not just avoiding crowds in public places, does it matter? Sometimes,one can mean something without saying it directly and say something without saying something. And somebody can go to jail if that person does not do what has not been said.

This also means freezing up societies or saying no more social interaction until further notice. Social interaction tells me why lives have to meet. The other life is not created  for me to eat as  food. The other life is created to flow into mine for life to continue in a dynamic way. So, the other life is greater me.

Now, you are saying: “To your tents,O Israel!”

Anyway, “social  distance,” through which you try to kill something, should not be total distance or distance from  everyone. Don’t I know how to keep a  healthy distance from someone that I am  talking with? Do I have to wrap myself around that person or share  a seat meant for one with the fellow? Must bodies rub against bodies in a civilized world? Please,let us not allow social actors redefine for us what “social distance” means and become the victims that Omoniyi Ibietan is talking about in that update on Facebook that says:

Keep social distance from misconception, misinformation &
Disinformation....They are more contagious and deadly as COVID-19.

Does that make you a bit uncomfortable,especially after reading many conspiracy theories that look true? Anyway,”social distance” still has humour for you, as in this soccer visual targeting the targeter:

(Source: Anonymous  

Is Arsenal not reminded about the need to observe “social distance” if the club is targeting the cup? It should be a humane gunner, biko, especially in these days of Corona virus. Indeed, a Frontline Division One European League club, Arsenal has every reason to eye (and even sniff)  the cup. Corona or no Corona. Even if there is a virus on the cup, a club facing competition has to grab it.

Anyway politicians and other social actors kicking social distance  and meaning round the soccer pitch should know that we know their styles and that we know what they know.

Corona Virus as a Science Fiction Tragedy

by

Obododimma Oha


Some people make the mistake of thinking that science fiction (sci-fi, for short) is fantasy for young people who are crackpots. Science fiction may have dwelt on matters that are classified as puerile but can bring up serious issues about human life. It can point the way to new possibilities and inventions waiting.  It has also extensively looked at disease and human survival in the world. These doomsday narratives have been warning and cautioning, asking us to get ready with strategies for addressing the hypothetical situation.

As someone who has been consuming some of these narratives, I see a similarity between what is playing out now as Corona Virus Scare and many cases we have in science fiction narratives. When I was just thinking about  putting together this essay, I had to refer to some existent knowledge on the Internet  about those narratives. Here is an interesting explanation on Wikipedia about apocalyptic fiction, which we are thinking about:

Apocalyptic fiction does not portray catastrophes, or disasters, or near-disasters that do not result in apocalypse. A threat of an apocalypse does not make a piece of fiction apocalyptic. For example, Armageddon and Deep Impact are considered disaster films and not apocalyptic fiction because, although Earth and/or humankind are terribly threatened, in the end they manage to avoid destruction.

So, following this line of thinking, let us say that Corona Virus Scare is both disaster in outlook and apocalyptic, after all, there is a prediction that the epidemic would go away after sometime; we will manage to overcome it. And a new world will follow. But the route taken is disaster, and people may watch helplessly while loved ones suffer and die, or are isolated. That is very painful and a challenge to our humanity.

If I call it a tragedy, that is in a simple sense that many have perished in fighting it. I also refer to the classical sense of tragedy as something painful from which  some ironically derive pleasure or catharsis. An account of that catharsis has to include, not just the enjoyment of some conspiracy theories emerging from it, but also the fact that the characters mentioned in those narratives seem to derive some pleasure from what they are doing – performing experiments with human beings and trying to see if they can enact disaster! How different is that from the gladiatorial shows of the ancient Roman Empire? In the process of reading up for this essay, I came across conspiracy theories pointing towards the escape of the viruses from an American laboratory and another an experiment gone awry in a Chinese laboratory. These are just some of the emergent conspiracy theories.

The only difference, you would say, is that the science fiction narratives were imagined, scripted, revised, and then, published. But you are looking at real life. Reality has learnt to imitate fiction. Nothing prevents our world from modelling its life, its experiences, after what obtains in science fiction narratives. Are we not the fictional characters acting our roles and learning from science fiction? If Corona experience turns out to be apocalyptic, that, too, is a learning experience.

When Denial Annoys Even the Devil

By

Obododimma Oha

Denial is a typical human discursive activity, which is obviously an attempt at defending the self, showing the self as blameless. When that self is blameworthy and one is claiming to be blameless, it is damaging to the image of self. It is laughable and also seems to imply the following, which are likewise annoying:

(i) others are fools;

(ii) others can believe just anything;

(iii) others are under some control and can do anything that they are told;

(iv) others do not make use of their brains – somebody has to think for them.

(v) relationship with these others is founded on deception.

One can then understand why the devil is grossly annoyed in the film, Suing the Devil, in which a salesperson and poor law student, Luke O’Brien, sues the devil for eight trillion dollars, for the disasters and harm he has caused in the world. Oh, you are smiling, too! This special but seemingly laughable court case goes on ridiculously, people wondering how the devil, a supposedly non-existent entity, would appear to defend himself. But the devil appears though unrecognized in the court-room, wearing a suit and with his team of powerful attorneys. The aspect that concerns us is his annoyance over the claim that he does not exist. Initially, he finds that funny, but at some point, does not find it funny again. He gets angry, even with the presiding judge, stands up and tells him to shut up, whether it is not he (the devil) that has been doing wonderful things for him, including promoting him. He has also helped other attorneys present, who are arguing that he is fiction! Who has the courage to charge him with contempt of court in that supernatural manifestation? How could the immortal be subject to human law, including resolving disputes based on their little knowledge (for which they are very proud!) with an idea about whose arguments are smarter? Nonsense! So, the devil, starred by Malcolm McDowell, finds human denial and court-room discourse really deficient and grossly infuriating.

Released to the public in 2011, written and produced by Tim Chey, Suing the Devil shows us how far in logic our tendency to deny can go and should annoy us if we really make use of our brains. Indeed, it is the kind of discourse about the devil that C.S. Lewis, the author of the famous Screwtape Letters, would find exceptionally inspiring. Allhough the film has a Christian evangelical ring to it, it is very relevant to the logic of how we deny or accept things in discourse: it challenges us to think critically about denial in discourse and about reality. Is the act of denial not really an invitation for us to think, to probe things deeper or is it for us to accept whatever we are told? If we are prone to accept whatever we are told, does that not show that our population of people are the easiest to rule by any fool? Does it not seem to say that ignorance is still food in that very context and that the ruling group may want to perpetuate it?

Furthermore, the film invites us to look at court-room discourse and reality again. It seems our courtroom discourse overlooks certain things and carries on conservatively at the way it looks at reality and evidence. The courtroom order is typically Western and would not admit any evidence from Ifa or any other system that is not observable. Above all, it privileges the nonsense that one’s proud argument along conservative lines is able to say. In that case, it recognises just one reality and dismisses fiction as a mere dream, just as the film itself remains a mere dream!

What is the boundary between dream and reality, particularly in a courtroom discourse that places some importance on talk, on argument? This boundary will continue to operate outside the law, but could be flouted sometimes as we demand justice. When one thinks of suing the devil or an angel, one is considered mad but held hostage by one reality. How would that reality understand the insanity as sanity?

There could be a rational basis for denial in some cases. For instance, if you assert that the author of this essay is the current President of USA, he could deny the assertion and we could easily agree with him. The weight of evidence would weigh in his favor. Also, if one says: "It is well" when I know that it is not, I could say the assertion is false, even if rhetorical. Further, if somebody claims that he cannot function efficiently in power because his predecessors performed badly, is he not begging the question and merely being defensive? One should know when to deny ("Ihe a gba n'aka, a naghị asị weta enyo ka e lelee ya" (A  mirror is not required to see a bracelet that one is wearing). One should know when denial becomes ridiculous. What is obvious is obvious. A denial is not a profession, neither is it concrete action. Denial is discursive and only shows that one is merely looking for excuses.