From Argument to Argument

By

Obododimma Oha

Have you ever participated in an endless argument, or argument that leads to another argument? Maybe you have. Just read this.

I have a friend who likes arguing. You would get tired of his argument and tell him, "Ok, you have won." He would turn and ask, "How have I won?" That would start another round of argument!

So, how has he won? You want to escape? An argument leads to another argument. You cannot escape. Plan it on the chessboard, but it would not work out. "How has he won?"

If one says that he has won, it means that one is both a competitor and judge. Unacceptable. Very.

One has to prove that he has won, even if it means arguing to favour him! Imagine! Arguing to favour what you oppose! Like suicide. Suicide in discourse. How best to destroy your own side in a debate.

That means, if you are his captive, sorry for you. No escape. You think this is your social media? You have fallen into a trap.

How has he won? This question is a strategic one. What a clever way of working on the side of an opponent in an argument!

So, you want to change the topic? We have seen that move already. It is  blocked. Changing the discussion. To something on your dining table. No way! Road closed. A new  discourse and a new escape route!

This is not USAAfricaDialogue or your WhatsApp group. You want to escape? Why should USA, a country, dialogue with Africa, a whole continent? No escape for you. Road closed!

Oh, you think that he was arguing to win? Not at all. Championship is for beginners in the business. Road closed here, too.

This one is not your academic exercise in which you explain argument as having conclusion, evidence or data, from which one could reach a claim or conclusion via backing and its relatives. No. This is endless thing, where Y does not necessarily lead to Z.

This brings up the issue of quarrels and arguments we witness on social media platforms. The interaction on social media is not for argument and quarrels!

What makes the situation very delicate is that those arguing do not physically see those with whom they're arguing. Certain pragmatic requirements tend to be relaxed. Arguments on social media should not be to advertise ourselves. It could eventually work against us. It's a global community! Road closed for suicide.

Logicality and Relationship between Updates and Comments on Facebook

By

Obododimma Oha

By logicality, I simply mean the relatedness or link in a text. I want to discuss how and why comments should be linked to updates on Facebook. I have a visible presence on Facebook and do interact with friends there regularly, learning a lot in the process.

I asked for permission to use particular updates and comments. But since there are widespread discomforts, I have dropped the idea of an empirical analysis, settling for just a theoretical discussion for now. The features could easily be picked.

But what many people seem to running away from is the mention of the illogicality of their comments and updates or the tricks that they have played. This article amounts to a negative comment that they want to avoid.

Let us first consider the various ways through which this logicality is created. 

(1) Repetition of some expressions or words used in the update.

(2) Dwelling on the same issue or content.

(3) Related weblinks

One does not need to over-stress it. The logicality helps readers. We need to know what the comments are responding to. This reminds one about the IRF model of conversation provided by Sinclair and Coulthard. Spelt out, IRF means Initiation, Response, and Follow-up.

In this regard, the conversation could be between updaters and readers, or between reader and reader.

We are helping readers to make appropriate connections between updates and comments. But there is a presupposition here: that the writer of the comment has read the update it points to before and has understood it.

If the writer of the comment has not first read the update, we should expect a weak connection or a pronounced lack of connection. What writers of comments do to escape the demand of logicality include:

(1) Greeting the updater

(2) Diverting the discussion to something else

(3) Writing generally about the update or updater.

Let us now examine the specific means of creating logicality in the discourse.

In the repetition of some expressions or words used in the update, we have a linguistic linkage. The idea is that meaning is held together by reminding the reader about linkages and that one of such important linkages is in the words or expression used.

It is like the commenter is pointing at language, at medium. Some updates or comments may be poetic, calling special attention to language.

It very important to point out that the language of updates and comments on Facebook is changing. It is no longer language as we know it. Visuals and audio are now incorporated. So, logicality may even be treated as a thing of sound and vision.

What is particularly expected is that the comment should dwell on the same issue as the update. But sometimes this is not the case. Commenters may sometimes not be able to make the necessary logical connections to show that they are reasoning well. Things that may work against them include:

(1) Excitement with the update

(2) Previous knowledge of the updater

(3) Poor skill of the handling of logic in discourse

(4) Distractions from other updates

Naturally, readers of postings on Facebook should take logicality as a serious demand. Facebook is not just a place to show a smiling face or nice clothes. It is much more. And logic in the discourse guides judgement.

Some updates may deliberately be slippery and make logicality difficult for commenters. If commenters are not careful, they won't notice an avoidance of reference and the trap laid. If commenters choose to become specific, that is their own headache.

Weblinks connect discourses and discourses. So, the weblinks that are used in updates and comments create greater global logicality. They extend cohesion of the update or comment.

Weblinking points to the necessity of making the web text properly linked up, internally and externally. Weblinking is web logicality.

The Cow and the Road

By

Obododimma Oha

Various Igbo highlife musicians have said it in their songs, but it is the special rendition by Sir Warrior that engages the attention of this article: the cow and the road:

E libe ụzọ,

Libe ehi,

Mụ ewere ụzọ,

Hapụ ehi.

E ribe ehi

E richaa ya.

Ụzọ ụzọ echi echi....

(If the road is put on a leash

The cow put on a leash

For me to choose out of the two,

I would choose the road

And leave the cow.

The cow could be eaten up completely

But the road, never!)

Indeed, both the cow and the road could come to an end. But the cow ends quicker. A road could be temporarily closed or permanently, but a replacement constructed. Not so with the cow. So, both are not exhaustible in the same way.

Sir Warrior in "Elu uwa" sings about his bewilderment in life. Those who think that life is like cowmeat are mistaken. It's inexhaustible like the road. This world seems to have no head and no tail. Life is a mystery.

Sir Warrior would like us to stop treating earthly life as we treat cowmeat. We cannot completely finish life. It's an unending road.

This life is strange. It cannot be compared to a cow. Even the path the cow makes may become a road eventually. That's one reason for us to be very careful in life.

This configuration of life as a road is very profound, indeed. The day of birth is not the beginning of the journey and death is not the end. The road stretches on. The end of the road is not in sight.

But there are roads, not just one. he road to Venus and the road to Plutoa The road to Putin is not the road to Zelensky. There are even roads in roads. 

Sir Warrior would pick the road and leave the cow. But he knows that the road may diverge. So that various voices would talk about the cow and the road differently.

"Nwanne M Peter, Nwanne M Paul": The Errors in English We Didn't Know Were Errors

By

Obododimma Oha

The Nigerian English as a Second-language context could be full of interesting challenges and surprises. There are creative reuses and there are errors.

Why would there not be errors? First, English is not the native language. This meant interference from the knowledge of the native language.

The children' s teachers shared in this interference, although they had attained higher education. Native use is native use. The nonnative expert needs some humility here.

There are many other factors, including physiologies, teaching methods, etc.

It was our days in the primary school in English as a Second Language context. There were some words that we uttered but didn't know were wrong. Either the adults from whom we heard them uttered them wrongly, or  we heard one thing and uttered another. Or what we thought we heard was not what was uttered!

The main contexts of this experience was songs. Usually, the learners were many. So it was difficult to make sure each child heard and repeated what was heard rightly. In a song, it was given:

(1) I want to live eternal life

     God save my soul

But we sang:

I want to live internal life

God save my soul

I hope that God understood. Whether the singers wanted to live eternal life internally or to live internal life eternally, it mattered less. God should understand. The words, "eternal" and    "internal" are related, only that they have allowed some syllables to separate them. Thanks to the poet looking for a rhyme. They are together again!

Song learners who are also second-language learners do face a lot of challenges. Interference is just one of them. A sound in the song that they are learning in English may resemble the one that they have in the first or indigenous language. This could cause the problem of generalisation. Thus they would begin to utter the wrong sound.

Learners, faced by interference problem, may alter original words. A case that could be cited is that of "covenant, " wrongly realised as "convenant." This alteration is common among the semi-literate and may even be considered appropriate and fashionable.

Another interesting case is seen in (2) below:

(2) Two little doves sitting on a branch

One named Peter

One named Paul

Wrongly realised as

Two little doves sitting on a branch

Nwanne m Peter

Nwanne m Paul

Curiously, poetry class is the context in Nigeria, an English as a second-language environment. In that context, we can imagine strange uses of language.

"One named Peter"and "One named Paul" are uttered as "Nwanne m Peter/Nwanne m Paul." This is simply a case of taking the English sounds as Igbo sounds or mistaking of English words as Igbo words, thinking that what was heard was the English word. The English expression, "one named, " sounds like the Igbo "nwanne"!

Some errors become style when they become popular and are used regularly. This seems to be the case with "brother" ("broda") in Nigerian English. Same for "sister" ("sista") and "uncle." As in

(3) Broda/ Sista welcome.

Broda or Sista may not be from the same womb with the speaker. Just a big boy or girl who is socially more important or can offer gifts to the speaker. It is therefore an encoding or suggestion of respect. Same for "uncle" who may not in any way be related to the speaker.

Paradoxically, a brother is not a brother and sister is not a sister in this error speech. It is hoped in the teaching of the language that one day a brother would become a brother and a sister sister. Just hope that informs teaching methods.

Error is just a stage. The children would surely pass this stage and something would take over. Either they unlearn and relearn or they inflict their error on the society.

A Move Prompted by the Other Move: Learning from Comments on Updates

By

Obododimma Oha

It is now known that readers' comments on updates on Facebook walls are important fields that can  expand the discourse. Facebook itself has been idealised as a classroom. It is not only that teachers can use update fields as virtual classrooms, creating groups for courses they teach, but comments on updates can throw more light on issues and educate readers. Thus, there are classroom comments that are group dealings and there are classroom comments that are merely imagined.

Although comments on Facebook, which are sometimes visualised, are means of helping resdership, we know that some people comment just to run others down and to advertise themselves. That means that they are not just there to help. They are there to kill!

More on visual comments. These may be stereotypical, being used in the same form in another update.

Nothing new added. It may be giggle, clapping, laughing, etc.

Thus, they could reveal attitude to people, issue at stake, the update, a comment, etc.

Also, comments represent the idea of free participation in public debate. But they are subject to censorship. Wall owners can delete comments or even block commenters! But it  is not always good to act in anger and delete comments. In making comments we can expose ourselves. Our wisdom and foolishness would show. Our enlightenment and ignorance would be exposed. Just like the update itself that exposes the updater.

Types of comments we can find are worth noting:

(1) Comments on other comments;

(2) Comments that have no direct relevance to the update;

(3) Commenting as a routine to boost the ego of the person who has made the update;

(4) Comments that extend the discourse in the update.

Some comments focus on other comments. This is not necessarily bad or diversionary. It is an attempt to extend or expand the discourse. Actually, comments expand and extend the discourse. It is natural that a comment that invites another is treated as an extension.

Comments on other comments are follow-up moves in the discourse. The Initiation move is actually the update. It is  what has prompted a reaction or response.

One problem is that making comments on comments without first reading the update may lead to another error of diversion.

This brings me to a class of comments that I find interesting: comments that have no direct relevance to ongoing discourse. The commenters seem to leave them to fulfill all righteousness. It's as if commenting is a must and so people commenting have complied as required.

This reminds me of some people not waiting for the typing of the update to be completed before making their comments. Why the rush? The author of the update may still have some editing to do!

What else do we expect of discourse in the public space? Some contributions would merely cause confusion or try to disrupt a coherent and ongoing one.

Commenters may also show an awareness of the need to avoid infringement on other's wants as in normal conversation, wants like includedness, abilities, and pursuits. Interestingly, Facebook has been developed to help readers clearly indicate whom the comment is addressing. Specificity is ensured through the mentioning of linked names, not just through the normal flow of the discussion.

We expect a comment to extend the discourse. A comment can extend the discourse by

(1) Citing another case that could throw more light on  the issue at stake, make a refutation, etc. Such extensions provide useful inroads to intertertextuality or cohabitation of texts. Indeed, updates invite other texts, making intertextuality unavoidable.

(2) A comment can extend the discourse by addressing another aspect of the theme that is not given attention. Readers may be interested in this trajectory.

Indeed, we may be educated through comments. That is one reason we should not treat them as something unimportant.

Silent Storms

 

By

Obododimma Oha

The title of this essay is from a poem by Bimbola Faith. Naturally, storms are noisy and do frighten some of us. So, to talk of "silent storms" is to make the reader think twice. Poets use expressions that confuse us, to force us to scratch our heads, sometimes contradictory  expressions . In that kind of case, one just has to read and re-read. After reading and rereading Faith's "Ray of Hope" and encountering "silent storms," I thought deeply about its meanings.

When I think of storms, what comes to my mind is destruction, tearing, mangling, explosion, death and pain.

But applied to human life, we are told by psychologists that some storms are good for us. A little stress keeps us well exercised.

The poem interestingly puts storms against smiles. So, these "storms" are not the normal ones we know. Different experiences understood as "storms." The poet even qualifies the storms as operating silently within many the human being.

But culture is there to help us."Dimpled smiles" and even "ray of hope." Rays give warmth and dimples are seen as indexical signs of beauty in many African cultures. But that dimples are indicators of presence of beauty is simplistic. There is nothing in that depression on the temple that can signify beauty. In fact, elsewhere and other times, dimples could suggest ugliness.

"Ray of Hope" is calming. Consoling. Ray is actually hope, a connotation that is welcoming. It suggests a good management of the silent storms.

Let us consider the storm more closely.
(1) It is not heard outside the person.
(2) They are still destructive (" ravaging").
(3) They are deceptive in the signification that follows.

Tears are also signs of pain from the storm.  The storms bring sadness. They give birth to "tearing eyes."

But there is still hope.

The poet chooses to be elliptical about the acts of the silent storms. So, we have to imagine them? Biting instead of kissing? Frisking instead of hugging? Slapping instead of laughing foolishly?

I don't like storms, whether metaphorical or real. They scare me. Last time I read *Kontiki Expedition*and *Treasure Island*,I had to hold the person nearby to be able to sleep.

No poem, they say, is ever finished. Only abandoned. And so I believe that we are only given the introduction in "Ray of Hope." The full poem is on the way, just like this brief essay.

I Miss Canaan City

By

Obododimma Oha

I miss Canaan City

I miss the sweet breeze

And filtered air that kisses my nose

I miss Edikang Ikong

And menu prepared with washed hands

Honestly, food is ready!

I miss smooth skin

And life well-looked after

I miss life

I miss Canaan City

And her pleasures

I miss the land

That keeps my heart.

A Trouble-maker

By

Obododimma Ọha

In a world where things are standing

On their heads, if you still know

Your right and your left

Then, you're a trouble-maker.

If tell people to do the right thing

How do you know

The right thing?

What makes the right thing right?

Only trouble-makers

Talk of the right thing

Or do the right thing

Peaceful souls see and deny.

In this new world

Right is terribly wrong

And wrong is wrong

Because it is hidden.

So, Trouble-maker, you are wrong

Because you know right things still.

Brother Dash Me

By

Obododimma Oha

There was a time that in local areas in Nigeria one was considered lucky to inherit things used by one's elder brothers and sisters. One always looked forward to wearing the same clothes, shoes, handbands, etc or carry the same bags they carried as young people. It was like following their footsteps or waking on the same road that they walked. It was a thing of pride and one was glad to be involved.

From what some spiritualists tell us, putting on someone's clothes is like wearing that person's skin. Wearing a brother's or sister's skin could be a good thing, after all they were both housed in the womb for some time. That is an important connection. Creation has a plan in this togetherness. So, it is a good idea to wear brother's or sister's skin. 

Those who wanted to kill one's joy or were dying of envy would label the inherited things "Brother of Me." It could be observable that what one was wearing was inherited because it might not be one's size exactly. So, it was dismissed as "Brother Dash Me" and as owned by someone else. If a Brother gave out a pair of trousers, the inheritor just had to go and see a tailor later with it. Same for skirt or blouse. It was very easy to recognize a  "Brother Dash Me." 

But, before the fuller discourse, let us look closely at the language used in the labeling. The senior is a "Brother," with a rising on the first syllable of the word. If that is not a phonological appeal, what else is? Plus a gratitude. "Brother's" place as the high in the discourse is still preserved, but that is to "undress" the proud wearer of oversize.

There is also some Nigerian pidgin there - - "dash." A gift is just a "dash," which means the giver does not really need it and has no reason not to give it away. That is an indirect way of saying the gift is worthless. 

It is not a birthday gift. It is not a gift from Father Christmas. It is purely a discard. That is a greater way of using language to kill the spirit of the wearer. Little wonder many have now kept away from "Brother Dash Me." 

One interesting thing about this "Brother Dash Me" is that what someone used to cherish has gone to someone else. That reminds me about our valuing of our offices and things as if we would keep them forever. Don't they say in Nigeria, "Soja go, soja come. Barrack remain"? ("Soldier goes  soldier comes barracks remains"). Our personal office today will be someone else's office tomorrow. We cannot be around forever. That is why it is important to make the future strong, indeed, stronger! That baton must be handed over to the next mate in the race.  

"Brother Dash Me" did many other things that I liked very much. It did something to relationship. It made it become stronger and warmer. Of course, one expects someone covered by another person to  be warmer. And so we are not surprised at this warmth in the relationship.

"Brother Dash Me" further reveals one vital thing about sustenance in the society where it occurred. It shows that the inheritors did not expect parents to provide clothings and other things all the time. It is true that parents have played a major role in bringing people into this world but don't have to be the ones to provide all their needs. So, we find some rural areas laboring and doing things to be able to help themselves. Even their communities have lived not to wait for government but simply depending on the goodwill of citizens to build bridges, repair roads, build schools and hospitals, even police posts! So, brothers and sisters even have macro application. Brothers would always "dash", as we find in many parts of Nigeria's South East. 

"Brother Dash Me" means that Brother cares and will continue to care. Brother is your covering and your warmth. Sister, too. In this journey. In this weather. 

On another note, one could see the spirit of communalism and sharing at  work. That spirit of the communalism is interrogated in the "Brother Dash Me" ridicule of individualism. The womb of our meeting and housing is no longer considered. 

In Nigeria these days, one sees used things  from overseas on sale. Clothes. Shoes. Bags. Even underwear! These are not "Brother Dash Me" again for they have been bought from the market! They are not someone's life going to another person. One has paid to have them. They are not items for "dash." 

Brother, sister, look back, at your back, and continue to "dash." 

Daddy's Stuff

By

Obododimma Oha

I gave my son my computer to use for a while beccause his own was bad but warned him not  to tamper with my files. He promised not to. When he returned the  computer, the files were intact (to my great joy) but l discovered that he had done something worth  thinking about. He had created a folder for my files and had named the folder "Daddy's Stuff." It was not just just that he spared my files to avoid trouble or created the folder. It was more : the language that he used in the naming was something else. Stuff? He must have wondered what to call the folder of things I valued. OK, look at my music! Albums from Osita Osadebe, Oliver de Coque, Oriental  Brothers, Warrior! No hip hop! From their cobwebbed music you shall know them! This stuff fellow must be living in the past, he must have concluded. These and other things were just "stuff" to him.

It was also possible that there was an attempt to use Daddy's Stuff on that reading table to read Daddy's Stuff on the computer : half-eaten kola nut, many open books, bush lantern facing an ancient electric reading lamp, a grandfather clock, etc. The computer must have have become the new porter helping Daddy to carry all these stuff in the marketplace of life! 

Okay, just think about what the stuff fellow's  desktop would look like. Things and things! In fact, a desktop of   things, of stuff and stuff! 

I lent out my computer but that was a world encountering another world and showing its  exception in language, in its major signifying system. I exposed my world and should learn from it. Technology sharing would not save the day.  Language is, indeed, more helpful, more revealing. 

The choices we make in language can suggest what we are and where we are. If "stuff" designates my "orishirishi," the unrecognizable, what does my language also say about that other language, at least as a way of talking back? 

Well, the stuff fellow's world does not use derogatory description. The values of a world and its technology are all there to do something. So, my" stuff" may look strange but that "stuff" has done much for me. It is worlds armed with language as a weapon and which see values as "stuff" that need to be pitied. It is that world where life means nothing, where nests could be set ablaze, that need to be pitied. 

My music suggested difference and strangeness. Yes. Strangeness! Not even Michael Jackson! How could I value albums by Oriental Brothers and Osadebe? That was crazy, it seemed. But what if these musical albums are a kind of hip hop? That means that stuff rappers should also start thinking of relationships of things thought not to related. Is it not possible that every item is just a stuff? 

I would have been rejoicing if my son copied and played any of my music stuff! "Lai! Lai!" as they say in Nigeria. Has he finished playing his hip hop and "Yankee" music to think of playing stuff music? That would be stranger than strange! 

My stuff music gives someone belly ache, I was told, and the retaliation comes in the form of loud hip hop or "Yankee." So, I respect and protect my stuff world, even if its music cannot inspire other worlds. 

Daddy's Stuff is a folder for some reasons. In it someone has folded up a world. But the challenge is to open up a closed world,  to explore that world for opportunities and to learn lessons. 

Now we know that Daddy's Stuff is Daddy's world. Strange or Estranged world. But, importantly, the stuff is not only music. It is a world of things. The music saying deep things, giving out philosophies. There are  paintings and drawings and debates in social media. In fact, Daddy's Stuff is a great puzzle. A strange world. 

A world should not remain closed. It has to give and be ready to receive. Not folding or closing up. It has to have something to give, not just lie and receive. And it should think about what it is giving. 

Now Daddy's Stuff is not here within reach! 

Welcome, my stuff. You could have been deleted! And replaced with a movie or reigning musical. What would he do? At most, he would rave and rave and disturb the whole forest. He would make noise and threaten hellfire. Then, moody for days. And that's all. The stuff is gone forever, gone for good and the forest is safe again. 

So, welcome really my stuff. You could have gone for good. Welcome from Hades. You could have gone forever! 

Daddy's Stuff reminds me about the fact that there is   new life and there is a new language in town. It is is better to know it to know where one is. It is better and safer. 

Welcome, my computer. Welcome, things and things. 

"He Is My Brother" When We Are Only from the Same Town, not from the Same Mother

 "He Is My Brother" When We Are Only from the Same Town, not from the Same Mother

By

Obododimma Oha

Relationship of people is not defined in many African communities as it is defined in the Western. Thus, if Biko Agozino is from Anambra State in Nigeria and I am from that state also, he becomes my "brother," even though we are not from the same mother, not even from the same town. Biko is Igbo and I am Igbo. That is one connection. Both of us attended the same university in Nigeria once upon  time, but our paths parted. He  went his Eskor Toyor way and I  Achebe-ed mine. However  to be many Africans, Biko is just my "brother," after all, he is Igbo and Obododimma is also Igbo! Translation problem? Perception? Relativity? Communalism? What is happening in this kind of discourse, ?

For many speakers of Igbo, "He Is My Brother" may be one easy way of running away from the translation problem in" nwanne." Literally," nwanne " means " offspring of my mother. " It is a very poor translation to call a kinsperson or someone from my state " my brother. "  That is clearly misleading! In fact, a fraud tendency! So, my brother, you are not my brother! My sister, you are not my sister! 

The idea of " my African brother "  or " my African sister," or "Nigerian brother" is just a fiction. Invent and express it, but it doesn't exist or it has ceased to exist. It is one of those fictions that have given you your haircut!

How am I your "brother"? Did you remember to give me part of the trillions of dollars you borrowed from out there? Truly, my brother, you are not a good brother, if a brother at all! You need to share the thing. 

We know that a speaker may use " my brother" just to negotiate intimacy, to draw closer to the addressee. We know that slippery slope. 

But, apart from this stylistic use, many who prefer "my bother" to other choices actually appeal to a primordial sentiment, talking about about an assumed closeness and asking for support on the basis of this imagined closeness. That appeal to an imagined closeness is fraudulent. It expects preferential treatment and authorizes it. 

Apart from language, religion is another force that promotes the ingroupness in the metaphors of fictional "brother" and "sister." A "brother" and a "sister" are better people and should get better treatment, it is assumed. Can you see how that kind of ingroupness unites? 

Indeed, religion brings in a phonological color! It puts an accent, a rising tone, on the last syllable. That makes a shibboleth a schibboleth at last! 

Recognizing and addressing somebody in the same religious group as "brother" or  "sister" could also be deceitful. Who does not know that someone with an ulterior motive could just memorize catch phrases like "God bless you" and "Remain blessed" and use them to pretend to be sincere and get a target easily? So, my brother, you may not be my brother! To be cautious! 

Oh, one may be guilty of appealing to primordial sentiment, too. Although I don't use  "brother" and  "sister," don't I address my students sometimes as my "children," still invoking the family configuration? I will ask my students to discuss the address tag  in this configuration, but with some sympathy in their criticism. 

That reminds me: am I not just referred to as "Broda" by my nephews and nieces, especially in our village? Sometimes the /r/ in "Broda" is stylistically made silent. Another trap with language, only imagined! Who knows what your "uncle" means? You are telling us it's more appropriate? It is cold and not quite complimentary to mouths waiting to chew bread and biscuits. Similarly, that  woman who is related to  Daddy is "Sista." Call her "Sista" if you want her to rub your hair and give you a special treatment and "that woman" if you want a knock on the head. 

You can also call her "anti," even if you have no blood relationship. You just have to get something from her, something not painful! 

Oh,  we are forgetting something : a "broda" could become "uncle." As the need arises. As the spirit moves a speaker. 

And, this earth, my brother. It is now standing upside-down and on one leg only. This dislocation, my brother. Where do you go and hide, my brother? Even in the countryside, you cannot shut your eyes (that is, if the  house has not been burned down). This earth, my brother. 

Brother, broda, booda! Strategic transforms, but with very deep meanings! We may not have come from the same mother. But we should know that we could be addressed as "brother" in this world where things strategic are done with words. 

Thomas Iyambe

 

By

Obododimma Oha

Anyone who is searching the archives on staff of Cameroon Development Corporation (CDC) would find that one Thomas Iyambe of Banga who "absconded" from duty from the gang clearing the bush for the plantations, later became a young man, so energetic that he was put in the last line of laborers so that he would be forcing escaping wild animals to run to the center, to their doom. What actually happened was that the real Thomas Iyambe disappeared for good and a young man who came from Uri (Uli) in Nigeria agreed to be him, so as to be allowed to work as a laborer in CDC.

Absence created an opportunity for presence. If  the old Iyambe had not "escaped," the new Iyambe would not have come. Two Iyambes: Iyambe of Banga and Iyambe of Uri, an Igbo. So, Iyambe yesterday and today. Iyambe lazy and  Iyambe hardworking and energetic. Iyambe old and Iyambe young again. 

It was quite interesting that my late father was "Lawrence" in Nigeria but "Thomas" in Cameroon, not that he was rechristened but had to take another identity in order to survive as a young man. 

It wasn't just that "Thomas Iyambe" had become someone else but shows how labels could mislead us. There's no real Thomas Iyambe anywhere. Thomas Iyambe could become another label. And life in the plantation gang went on. Truly, small no be sick! 

So, my own father was once called "Thomas Iyambe"? He could even have been known as "Paul Biya"! Paul Biya of the CDC plantation. It was just a matter of labeling and re-labeling. 

Thomas Iyambe! Present, sir! 

But I don't know whether the person that was labeled "Thomas Iyambe" would also not mind answering my father's name if required to bear it. We need to find out. This earth, my brother, my sister. You can only guess and let your guess remain a guess. What is good for the goose may not be good enough for the gander. Ganders are choosy these days! 

When one Thomas Iyambe goes, another Thomas Iyambe comes. That is how it should be, ad infinitum. There should be a deferment of Iyambes. Iyambes uncatchable. Iyambes always many, more than legion. 

Maybe one Iyambe would seek to attack and destroy its kind one day. The problem of uncomfortable similarity. Uncomfortable oneness. I won't be surprised if one Thomas Iyambe attacks and tries to destroy another Thomas Iyambe. Maybe destroy the old Iyambe. We are not very comfortable with our kind, what more a replacement! One Thomas Iyambe may want to see justice done. But to self! 

Thomas Iyambe must have suffered in looking for where there was Thomas Iyambe penned down on paper. From plantation to plantation. Looking for self. From Miselele to Banana Bush. From Tiko to Yaounde. Looking for self in the overseer's paper. 

Thomas Iyambe is a sign of vanishing you and reappearing you. Many selves in oneself, one self. Thomas Iyambe that cannot be caught, trapped in one plantation. 

It is clear to me now that "Thomas Iyambe" is just another label put on a human being and could be replaced. Thomas Iyambe, you are just a sign used by humans. 

The Children from the City

By

Obododimma Oha

In those days, children from the city were our big problem. They came to the local area during Christmas or New Year celebrations and showed off a lot. Was it the ways that they spoke and what they spoke? Was it what they took and how they  took it? Was it the clothes that they wore? Even the ways that they walked! The children from the city deliberately went for us and against us. And we did not like it. So, they were a problem, a great problem.

I still remember how one held and drank from a bottle of "Mirinda." Obviously, he wanted me to watch, to die quietly, to see one child deal with precious liquid in a bottle, all alone! And when he gulped down the liquid, I, too, swallowed, but I swallowed no liquid, not to talk of a precious one.

Only one child drinking a whole bottle! They did not even dilute the drink with some water before he started taking it. Too bad. That's how the city spoils them.

It wasn't just that one child could drink a whole bottle, but even the way that child drank it and looked at the onlooker, as if to proclaim, "Yes. I did it. Can you also do it? Go and die!" That was clearly more than provocative  making one hate the city more.

As I said initially, they visited mainly during celebrations. Celebrations, indeed. They just ruined everything for us in the village and one secretly prayed that they won't be around. When one should be enjoying the carols and sharing the proceeds, they came to kill the joy. Celebration turned to bitterness and regret. I hated children from the city.

The children from the city were always arrogant. They are mainly interested in showing children from the village that the city children are different and better. They believed that they had better life, while one in the village had no life. Imagine children who could not climb trees! Imagine children who could not blow the fire! Imagine children who could not fetch fodder for goats, not to talk of knowing the names of the plants!

They did not eat cassava foofoo. No wonder they didn't have energy. It was only rice! Imagine feeding on bird's food. If one eats bird's food, what does one expect birds to eat? Yam and cocoyam?

What they uttered was also annoying. They spoke what they called English, "oybo sụprị sụprị." You need to see how those children from the city twisted their mouths as they spoke "oyibo," just to torment us. 

The children of the village knew proverbs and how to embellish speech in the local language. But, who cares? Who really cares for your embellishment in the speech of the past? We just envied the children from the city there.

Then, their clothes. They had better clothes with lots of pockets for things. I wished I had such. One pocket just for my treasured things. Another pocket for ropes. Another for bread labels. And so on. Well, their clothes had lots of pockets, which was important to me.

They were proud  very proud that they had better clothes and ours were just rags. How could one's clothes for Christmas, Easter, or New Year be called "rags"? I knew that most of them were "ekobe," which was ready-made and quickly done. But they were no rags and must have cost a lot of money obtained painfully through contributions at meetings and gifts at the carols. They were not rags. I knew that the children from the city must have said that to kill one's spirit.

How could one even forget the ways that the children from the city walked to show that they did not care? The same way that they carelessly widened the mouth while speaking, to show that they could talk rubbish or had no training on speaking. They deliberately walked as if they were drunk or want to take the entire space  as people coming in the opposite direction.

I know that the whole idea was to make an unthinking idiot dislike the village, a place where a child could explore every bush  eat every wild fruit with unwashed hands, walk barefooted and even naked. There was no way one was would prefer the city to the village.

The children from the city need to listen to us, watch us, and learn from  us. 

Mother Hen Is Chasing Her Children Away

By

Obododimma Oha

Hens look after their chicks with utmost dedication. They can even die for them, not to talk of making sure that they are well-fed. So, hens are not wicked when they peck at their young sometimes and drive them away to begin to look after themselves. Experts in poultry farming call this attempt to make the grown-up chicken live on its own "weaning." Among humans, this is similar to what is called "ịchụ ara" (stopping from breastfeeding), which, traditionally, every nursing mother has to do after about one year.

Weaning, in whichever forms it comes, is an attempt to make the young grow up. This growing up involves looking for food, defending itself when attacked, home making, etc. They have to learn how to hide from carnivorous aviators that may want to kidnap them.

But humans are not just good in it. They tend to protect and provide for their young too much. They behave selfishly as if their young is their property, for them alone! In the process they don't really wean. They want the young ones to live close, to make sure they are safe. They don't drive them away!

Mother Hen is telling the young ones: "Grow up from now on. Learn to wrestle with the world. Learn to look after yourself. Your life is yours, your future yours. Go and wrestle with the world." Mother Hen is a realist. Mother Hen is just an agent and should not be turned to the goal!

It's all about dependence and independence. In independence, an entity labours and tries to survive on own efforts, but with dependence, it has to parasite and live on the efforts of others. Unoka of *Things Fall Apart* is a good example of the sad things in dependence. He has to record his indebtedness with lines of chalk. A sad narrative, the record tells about his dependence. Taking loans and not bothering about repayment is not good life. Whether at individual or societal level, indebtedness does not guarantee honour or give respect. As the Igbo say, "Onye añụñụ ọgọdọ anaghị agbasi egwu ike" (One who borrows clothes for a dance does not dance energetically or dances extra cautiously). Yes, the clothes may get torn and that borrower would be in trouble. If that person is even commended, somebody may say: "Is it not because of the clothes that fellow borrowed? Don't we know the owner?"

 
Weaning is all about asking the weaned to learn to take initiatives, to make choices, actually, to take a risk, which is what life involves.

The time shall come when we all must go our separate ways. The time shall come. It is a matter of time. The Igbo would say: "Ụkwa ruo oge ya, ọ daa." Can I be helped by my father who was buried more than 20 years ago?

Mother  Hen in that homestead is wiser than its owner. It is chasing her children away. It wants them to learn to live on their own.

Mother Hen scratched forwards. Then  scratched backwards. Turned and looked at the two. Then asked her chicks:" The accumulated garbage in the front and the one at the back, which is greater?" They answered : "The garbage in the front." She said : "You answered well. From now, my pet name is 'Nkeiruka' (The one in front is greater). Then one in the future or that is coming is greater." They understood and continued feeding.

Mother Hen is a great teacher. A great teacher allows students to teach themselves.

The Return

 

By

Obododimma Oha

If she goes to market

And does not return

And he does not look for her

He is heartless and irresponsible

If she goes to market

And allows herself to be carried away

By the looks of things

Things flashy and misleading 

And forgets to go home 

Something may be wrong with her

If she turns this fish over ten times

And haggles over that biscuit 

Maybe she is  not buying 

Only touching the market 

And will pretend to have lost an amount 

If she remains when all have gone home

She has turned to gofment pickin

Or has become a vulture 

Tell her people she has to return 

And not turn the market upside-down

Problem-solving in Amos Tutuola's The Palm-wine Drinkard

By

Obododimma Oha

Many people who read *The Palm-wine Drinkard * by Amos Tutuola often focus on his use of language. That is to be expected, but one aspect of the narrative that should interest us is how it pictures problem-solving in Africa. It is along this line of thinking that I examine the novel briefly as a problem - solving narrative.

The narrator-protagonist likes drinking palm-wine but is in a fix because he has lost the person who taps the wine. Worse still, he does not know where this dead man has gone and cannot trace there, to tell him to come back. Nobody is willing to show him how to get there. So, he has to solve this problem. He has to work the solution out somehow.

Obviously, this is a serious philosophical problem for him to try to solve. It is a problem that affects his life and whose solution would shape his future. Normally, the first reaction would be to ask people. But they would not respond to help him solve the problem. So, he has to use cleverness and indirect means.

This shows us something about cleverness and survival, something the tortoise knows very well, as shown in many narratives. As the Igbo would say: "Anụ gbata ajọ ọsọ, a gbanyere ya ajọ egbe" (When an animal in a hunt runs badly, it has to be shot badly). So, the palm-wine drinker has to look for an "unusual" way to solve the problem.

So, what problems are at https://edutitra.blogspot.com/2021/09/problem-solving-in-amos-tutuolas-palm.htmlstake? What does one learn about problem-solving from the narrative? 

1.  According to the protagonist, he had been for days without drinking because his "tapster" was dead. Finding where his tapster was (a spirit), was his obligation. He was looking for his dead tapster.

2. The second and related problem was the unwillingness of people to help him to locate his tapster. A man he approached in this regard even wanted to extend his "help" to become a punishment for the drinker's "foolishness" and to get rid of him finally by asking him to go and find Death, bind him, and bring.

3. The secondary problem - - finding where Death lives - - was not simple. Nobody would help him out of fear of Death. So, this avoidance of such a discourse  is a big problem. It demands an unusual approach.

The solutions are necessary, though not easy. Just like Africa moving to modernity and vibrant economy. Locating the dead tapster  is dependent on locating where Death lives, binding the intangible that must become tangible, and bringing the terrible luggage. Solutions must utilize simple local methods, as we shall see. They require THINKING,  not daily drinking of palm-wine. This thinking is what would help the drinkard.
Now, let us see the solutions.

1.  Locating where Death lives:
As indicated earlier, this required solving another problem - - making the intangible to become tangible! Human discourse would  not help too. So, one has to enlist the nonlinguistic. The drinkard goes and lies down legs spread out, at an "orita" or crossroad. This behavior forces some talkative marketpeople to stop and ask: "Who is the mother of this idiot lying at an" orita" with one leg pointing to Deadstown, where Death lives?" That gives away the solution that they are unwilling to give!

2. The second is how to make the intangible tangible. This is just hard. Well, the narrative assumes that this is possible and involves switching of realities. In that case, the drinkard descends into a deeper fiction where Death is found, tied up, and brought to human world. Doesn't this constitute a big problem? These days, realities can switch places!

Even though we could argue that too much drinking of wine could elicit this kind of fantasy, we know that some drunkards can see and say things. It is possible for a drunkard to catch death, tie the fellow up and bring him to the world. Even the possibility of making death tangible is what a drunkard could affirm.

What  this suggests is that our Western logic and book knowledge would be wrong in giving the impression that all problems have to comply with straightforward thinking. In some contexts, the Western model would not work. The animal is running badly in the hunt and needs to be shot at badly.

Think about COVID-19. A local African may find remedy by plucking and eating some leaves or boiling some leaves as grandfather did, steaming thoroughly to clean the respiratory track. COVID-19 could avoid this Mr. Bones!

Many indigenous people in Africa that want to get confused after colonization, especially book people, should throw away their logic or think they can be Western. They are deceiving themselves. They can never be Western.

Problems ask for solutions and in many indigenous societies in Africa, those solutions can be found somehow. Tutuola's narrative is partly about working out or finding the solution. This makes us thinking beings.

OldManGuy

 

By

Obododimma Oha 

Oldman Guy he would walk  his bike

All the way

He would walk bent double

OldmanGuy he would growl

OldmanGuy he would bark

And you'd be forced to run

Run to your mother

Run into your mother's womb

OldmanGuy is coming

Coming to swallow you!

OldmanGuy he would walk

As if on all fours

As if getting ready to pounce

OldmanGuy from the past of the past

OldmanGuy now walking his bike

And bent double

In my adult dreams, in which I am still

Running to my mother for shelter 

OldmanGuy is growling and coming. 

The Cow and What It Will Mop up with Its Tail

 

By

Obododimma Oha

Some countries have a cow problem.  In fact, they can playfully be called "cowtries."  In "cowtries" ,  cows move about freely and enter wherever they like. They are not kept on leash or in ranches. They can enter a garden or a farm and eat up the crops in the name of going natural. If the gardener or farmer complains, the idiot can be shot with AK-47 and nothing would happen. 

In "cowtries,"  cows are more  important than citizens. If a citizen kills a cow eating in a farm, such a citizen could be killed and the law would look the other way. In short,  the cow is the law, the only law. The cow should actually wear a wig and sit on the bench. 

But the Igbo have this lovely proverb: "Ehi ga-eji ọdụ ya tere ihe ọ nyụrụ" (The cow will mop up what it defecates with its tail). It is a warning as well as a consolation. So, the cow should stop now and think. It should stop moving around freely and entering wherever it likes. Otherwise, the devil. 

The cow believes that it is defecating for others. No sir! It is defecating for itself. It may not know this but the excrement waits, steaming for somebody. It is a defecation and was cooked and dished out by someone. 

The cow is the authority on excretion and owns excretion. Its tail is busy driving away flies in vain. The visiting flies saw the excretion and would like to report it well. The cow should stop terrorizing the visiting flies. The flies are on duty. 

It is part of mopping up the excrement with the tail. Is the cow surprised? 

One was wrong in thinking that it was only in movies on endtime that strange things could happen. One now knows better. 

Cow rule is indeed an era in the endtime. If the cow takes over power, horns have come. And you know what horns could do. It has to be horns versus horns as the cow also confronts the excrement. Cow rule may occasion hurt, but expect endtime retaliation from the excrement.

Cows that defecate everywhere they enter should get ready for everywhere mop up. It is not only the garden and the farm now complaining. Everything in civilization is complaining bitterly. That's a lot of trouble. That's a lot of bitterness there.

That is not to say that you don't have rights, cows. But these are not the right to transgress and beat your chest. It is not right to be wrong, cows.

As a matter of fact, you ,are the only cows. Country  folks are also cows. Don't they have colonies and routes? Don't they follow the herder from Washington to Paris? Don't they follow successful coup plotters and damn unsuccessful ones? They should respect cattle culture!

Anyway, we will all mop up our defecations. Tailless cows are lucky! 

The Many Englishes of the Nigerian in America

By

Obododimma Oha

This essay has been inspired by a Facebook update by the historian, Moses Ebe Ochonu. In the update, Ochonu writes :

It just occurred to me that I speak many Englishes. The English I speak to my children is different from the one I speak with my folks in Nigeria, which is radically different from the one with my students and other US folks. 

You would agree with me that this update is provocative and exciting, not just that it reveals the nature of an immigrant's English pluralism, but it reveals something about standing one leg in the "Inner Circle" of English and the other leg in the "Outer Circle." Braj Kachru locates native speakers of English found in places like Britain and America as belonging to the Inner Circle of English, while those on whom English was imposed through colonization, such as Nigeria and Ghana, belong to the Outer Circle. While the Inner Circle is norm producing (that is, it dictates correctness) the Outer Circle is norm using or norm consuming. Don't scratch your skull. Tokunbo culture could extend to language and language teaching! Did I say anything? 

Anyway, a bit on Ochonu. This man was born and brought up in the Outer Circle but he is a distinguished professor of History in an American university. He has also been living in the US with his family for a long while, only visiting Nigeria once in a while. So, his world is characterized by the twonesss of Inner and Outer Englishness. He also writes regularly on Facebook and his updates initiate important discourses. Obviously, Ochonu is a name among names, among African scholars of the moment. 

 Now, that update of his. First, his use of the word "folks" exposes his Americanness. Some other people may be inclined to use that word, but our man carries it as the snail carries its shell. One could perceive America there. In the Outer Circle, people don't say "folks" except when they want to appear American and affected. So, Ochonu is doing something in its choice, suggesting his difference. 

Then, the bigger issue : the version of English with which he communicates with his children is different from the one with which he communicates with his "folks" in Nigeria! Natural. But what is commendable is that Ochonu shows sensitivity of differences of context in doing so. He does not try to show off his Americanness to his "folks" as such in Nigeria. Context puts an obligation on him as a speaker of English. He is not the only diasporic Nigerian that does this anyway. I know so many Nigerian professors living in the US with their families who consciously speak like touts in Onitsha or Lagos whenever they visit Nigeria. Why are they not showing off their Americanness in their use of English? 

OK, if Ochonu tries to speak a Nigerian English while communicating with Nigerians in Nigeria and American English while communicating with his children in America (essentially to be understood), why is his English in communicating with his students and other Americans still different from the one he uses at home (in America)? He uses a variety of the language expected in these contexts so as not to be ridiculed. The music of his speech (which American students would dislike and call accent) could jeopardize his interactions in these contexts. 

This dislike for "accent" in the educational system is getting to other parts of the globe rapidly. It is a kind of shibboleth signifying to learners whom to trusts  his or her knowledge and whom to distrust! Imagine. In that case, Outer Circle individuals who want to be natural cannot be so in the Inner Circle. Quite disturbing. 

But the most important thing is what this all suggests about the Outer Circle diaspora person. Such a person is multilingual and multilectal. As in the case of Ochonu, the diaspora person standing between Outer and Inner Circle has to speak many varieties of English or many Englishes. 

The Text without a Full-stop

By

Obododimma Oha

Two things become very clear to me. First, anybody could be a poet. Poets don't have to have grey hair or wear unkempt beard. Just anyone could be a poet. Was that not why an Igbo sage warned that if we have too much on our minds, we might pass a spirit unknowingly and fail to greet?

Secondly, it has become glaring that poets are not just writing poems. A poet may be rigorously theorizing. Just as many African ancestors used proverbs and folktales to theorize. Poets' theories on texts, societies, etc could be particularly interesting. It is on that basis that one would like to comment on Bimbola Faith's poem below. 

  that full-stop you saw

did not end that sentence

that full-stop

was never the closure to the text

for behind every dot on the page

are thousands and millions of unspoken texts

countless pieces of allophones, phones and phonemes

innumerable companies of allomorphs, morphemes and words

heavy, horrendous, homongous emotion

open, borderless, boundless, deep, vast feelings

but all approximated into a grunt, a tear or a smile

many things to say

many things unsaid

many things unsayable

everything rounded off to a dot

One thing that is noticeable is the shape of the poem: first, it is centralized and there is minimal punctuation, especially full-stop, at the end! And the poem is talking about full-stop and text-making! Punctuation marks or pauses could be check-points we create here and there on the highway of the text. They  create borders and boundaries to the stream of speech unnecessarily. By the way, did you notice that the poem was given no title? That could be deliberate. Don't titles that we give articles and books imply their having borders of meaning, of ideation? 

It means the poet would like us to shift from the sentence as we know it to the text and stop thinking of check-points. If we think too much about the sentence or make our grammar too sentential, then we would think of having check-points and they could slow our journey down! 

But apart from slowing down the journey to meaning, other things in the journey are worth thinking about. One could think of the "innumerable" morphemes and allomorphs, the phonemes and their friends. The unfathomable "vast feelings" and grunts that cannot be accounted for while checking the sentences for correctness. In addition, certain emotions can be uttered, some not uttered, and some beyond utterance. 

It is obvious that the poet is in the frightening zone of post-structuralism. It is typical of these thinkers who populate deconstruction to focus on texts and to discourage attachment to sentence grammar. Same for the later versions of systemic linguistics. Their fascination is with text grammar. 

This is clearly exemplified in the poem. The text and the world must be linked up. No boundaries. No check-points. No delays on this search for meaning. That ideological trash and that pragmatic statement about "everything" being "rounded off" can show us where we are secretly going. There is always some gain in checking how text and context are linked. 

The more I read the untitled poem, the more I learn about the text and test myself on text-making in this troubled world. Same way I learnt  some years ago about post-structuralist metafiction, while supervising a PhD project on it. We learn everyday and should be humble enough to allow the poem to theorize about the text and to teach us.