Wednesday, 29 February 2012
Tuesday, 28 February 2012
Monday, 27 February 2012
CULTURAL WORDS OF WISDOM
MARTIN LUTHER KING.
A lie cannot live.
A man can't ride your back unless it's bent.
A man who won't die for something is not fit to live.
A riot is the language of the unheard.
A right delayed is a right denied.
Everything that we see is a shadow cast by that which we do not see.
Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase.
I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.
Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.
Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.
Tolu Falode.
A lie cannot live.A man can't ride your back unless it's bent.
A man who won't die for something is not fit to live.
A riot is the language of the unheard.
A right delayed is a right denied.
Everything that we see is a shadow cast by that which we do not see.
Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase.
I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.
Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.
Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.
Tolu Falode.
Sunday, 26 February 2012
YOU LIVE...YOU LEARN
I watched my Uncle carefully as he grunted loudly turning the page. His eyes moved carefully through my work; looking, scrutinizing every answer I had scribbled down in my haste to watch the 4pm cartoon show. His eyes gently moved from the page to my eyes. 
He stared at me for a moment,his dark brown eyes reflecting his thoughts. 'Go and read over it again' he said, in his calm, controlling voice. I opened my mouth to protest and then hesitated knowing my whimpering complaints would not gather any sympathy from this stern man. I squeezed my face and screwed my mouth as I grabbed my notebook from him and left his room. This is the memory I would forever cherish of my dear Uncle Shuaib. His tall, imposing presence shadowed all my childhood. His darting gaze controlled all my steps like a protective lioness watching her newborn cub.
He stared at me for a moment,his dark brown eyes reflecting his thoughts. 'Go and read over it again' he said, in his calm, controlling voice. I opened my mouth to protest and then hesitated knowing my whimpering complaints would not gather any sympathy from this stern man. I squeezed my face and screwed my mouth as I grabbed my notebook from him and left his room. This is the memory I would forever cherish of my dear Uncle Shuaib. His tall, imposing presence shadowed all my childhood. His darting gaze controlled all my steps like a protective lioness watching her newborn cub. 
I remember the first day at Secondary School. I stepped into the car and quietly thought about the school that was soon to be my new home. My eyes blindly screened the hawkers on the streets, I could faintly hear the noisy car horns as we made our way passed Bariga and onto the Third Mainland Bridge. I could feel the nervousness pulsing in my bones like a beating drum each and every minute we reached our destination. Finally, I saw the rusted iron gates and behind them, a big blue block plastered with windows. Children my age littered the streets, with their parents. It was the first day and Brother Shuaib calmly walked with me as I made my way, with the rest of the class to my new classroom. I had forgotten he was steadily following my footsteps; and then I looked back. There he was, a big grin plastered on his brown face, his huge hand raised in comfort as I queued in front of my class with my mates. My first memory of my new home. Tope and I were best friends. We shared our earliest memories together. We could literally tell our stories to anyone who would listen because they were so similar. It was like we had shared a life together. I constantly visited Tope during the weekends for sleepovers and we played and chatted all through. I remember the anticipation of our weekend activities. Drawing Disney cartoons, listening to our music collection and then doing the forbidden homework for the Monday class. Brother Shuaib was a constant presence during this period. He knew her as well as I did. He was fond of her warm greetings and her eagerness to learn and constantly compared me to my 'foster sister'. I remember he would pack my things carefully as I prepared for one of our weekly sleepovers. He would stand over my luggage and make me re-examine it to make sure that I had not forgotten anything. I remember his words of caution as we drove to her house. 'Be polite', he would say. 'Eat whatever you are given' he would constantly re-iterate and 'Don't complain about anything' were his final words. These were the words he muttered once more as he dropped me at Aunty J's house.
The day was warm, and full of bright expectations. I was looking forward to visiting Aunty Judith for the week. I missed her warm hugs and motherly compassion as she fussed over my weight and my books. Brother Shuaib drove me to her house as usual. There was nothing strange about this day. The warm air blew my face gently and the hot sun lightly reflected beads of sweat off my forehead as we approached Aunty J's house. After the usual family formalities, my Uncle was off. I remember staring at him waiting for him to reiterate his words of warning. We looked at each other for a while. His hand plastered to the steering wheel as his gaze fell on my eyes. 'See you on Tuesday' he said and drove off. Those were the last words I would ever hear from those wise lips.
I remember the pain etched on Mummy's face as she attempted and failed to describe where Uncle Shuaib was. I remember she had hid behind her dark shades as she muttered his unfortunate fate. But mostly, I remember the harsh slap of reality hitting my face. The cruel feeling of vunerability and the sudden sense of reality. I couldn't believe it. No longer would that strong force that had guided my childhood watch my steps. No more stern words dropping like bullets unto my every move. No more Brother Shuaib. I can honestly say that was the moment my childhood ended and the burdens of adulthood landed on my shoulders.
I did my schoolwork diligently from then on. Sitting down to study, resisting all distractions as I concentrated on pasting the words on the page to my brain. Television, that had appealed to my childish sense of wonder no longer demanded my attention. Games I had played with T.L and other friends lost all interest for me. Guilt had tainted my childhood. I was now obsessed with making my Uncle proud of me through the only means possible-my education. I found myself slowly disappearing from social circles as my friends could no longer understand this shadow of my former self. Brother Shuaib must be proud of me-my brain constantly muttered as I obsessively craved prizes in school. This effort payed off but the price was high-my childhood.
Brother Shuaib had shaped my childhood; defined every border of my growth. Now, I realize the enormous time and effort this man put into my development. His dedication to my education. His vigilance over my childhood social circle. His guidance had steadily brought me from childhood and through his death, adulthood. I only wish..I only wish I had cherished those moments of happiness when he drove me to school. I wish I had payed closer attention to his words of wisdom as they dropped from his lips. But mostly, I wish I had gotten to know him better; this one man that was the key to all my childhood memories.
Tolu Falode.
IN MEMORIAM.
Saturday, 25 February 2012
Friday, 24 February 2012
8 FACTS
SIR VICTOR UWAIFO.
Sir Victor Uwaifo is a Nigerian musician, writer, sculptor and musical intrument inventor born in Benin City, Edo State, Nigeria in 1941.
He is famous for his joromi music.
His best-known song Guitar Boy and Mamiwater was a huge hit in 1966.
It was allegedly inspired by an encounter with a mami water while lounging on Bar Beach in Lagos.
He also served as commissioner for arts and culture in Edo State under the government of Lucky Igbinedion.
Early in his career, he was a member of Bobby Benson's Highlife band.
Uwaifo made history in Nigeria when he won the first Golden Record in Nigeria, West Africa and Africa for his song Joromi in 1996.
The Federal Government of Nigeria in appreciation of his talents and contributions to Nigeria honored him with a National Honors Merit in 1983.
Tolu Falode.
He is famous for his joromi music.
His best-known song Guitar Boy and Mamiwater was a huge hit in 1966.
It was allegedly inspired by an encounter with a mami water while lounging on Bar Beach in Lagos.
He also served as commissioner for arts and culture in Edo State under the government of Lucky Igbinedion.Early in his career, he was a member of Bobby Benson's Highlife band.
Uwaifo made history in Nigeria when he won the first Golden Record in Nigeria, West Africa and Africa for his song Joromi in 1996.
The Federal Government of Nigeria in appreciation of his talents and contributions to Nigeria honored him with a National Honors Merit in 1983. Tolu Falode.
Thursday, 23 February 2012
Wednesday, 22 February 2012
Tuesday, 21 February 2012
CULTURAL WORDS OF WISDOM
One good turn gets the duvet.
The early worm gets eaten.
Never miss a good chance to shut up.
The second mouse gets the cheese.
There are two theories to arguing with a woman; neither theory works.
Hotel mattresses are better on the side away from the phone.
Never kick a fresh cowpat on a hot day.
Even when I have pains I don't have to be one.
To cheer yourself up, you should try cheering someone else up.
If a man does not make new acquaintance as he advances through life, he will soon find himself left alone.
Tolu Falode.
Never miss a good chance to shut up.
The second mouse gets the cheese.
There are two theories to arguing with a woman; neither theory works.
Hotel mattresses are better on the side away from the phone.
Never kick a fresh cowpat on a hot day.
Even when I have pains I don't have to be one.
To cheer yourself up, you should try cheering someone else up.If a man does not make new acquaintance as he advances through life, he will soon find himself left alone.
Tolu Falode.
Monday, 20 February 2012
Sunday, 19 February 2012
Saturday, 18 February 2012
Friday, 17 February 2012
YOU LIVE...YOU LEARN
RAINING SEASON.The streets spoke of the floods through the water banks and the streams that cluttered the roads. The cars maneuvered carefully through the pot holes deep with dark water. They cleverly sauntered through each pothole. I watched through the comfort of the car the window guiding my eyes around the streets of Lagos. I watched how Lagosians had responded to the rain. The rain that had flooded streets and drowned people and houses showing no mercy to the people of the town. The rain had poured heavily during the weekend drumming the ground with its sounds of danger and destruction. I watched the streets as they spoke of the floods and then my eyes met the people. I saw the woman in with agege bread in her head protected by a transparent lynon. I watched her walk cautiously her feet slowly but surely finding each footstep on the dangerous sidewalk- a mark of the floods.
I saw with surprise in the midst of the cement and stone of the roadside some men sitting calmly as they chatted on a dilapidated truck. I watched two women struggle to place some heavy yellow jugs on their heads as they guided each other till the heavy plastic objects finally found a perfect niche in the middle of their wrapped scarves.
It was amusing to see a pedestrian waving enthusiastically as his confused friend waved back as he flew past on an eager okada. I watched the signs of religion in the muslim's that decorated at uneven intervals, the sidewalk as they knelt down to pray to Allah in the watery sand, a piece of cloth acting as the only substance to separate them from the cold earth.
And then began the traffic that was a part of Lagosian life. My eyes were amused by the woman that had set up base beside a refuse dump blowing her corn; her resource for survival enthusiastically; the bow legged mallam walking comfortably around the pools of water with his stick; the young boy that washed his danfo vigorously with the help of the watery compound beside him. The hawkers strolled between the cars displaying their wares enthusiastically their sharp eyes catching any small sign of interest. My eyes were entertained by the fruits decorating the roadside and a young woman who expertly arranged a row of watermelons her orange nails glimming dimly in the cloudy sky; her earphones distracting her from the heavy traffic that crowded the highway beside her.
The roads spoke of the floods but the people of Lagos showed no hint of it.
Tolu Falode.
8 FACTS
SUNNY OKOSUN.
Sunny Okosun was born in Enugu, Nigeria on Jan 1, 1947.
He was one of the leading Nigerian musicians from the late 70s to mid 80s.
His first band, The Postmen, was formed in Enugu in 1965.
His 1977 song "Fire in Soweto" became a major international hit.
He featured in the anti-apartheid album Sun City, and his song Highlife was in the soundtrack of 1986 film Something Wild.
He made music in Edo, Igbo,Yoruba and English languages.
His mainstream success started to fade in the late 1980s.
He died aged 61 of colon cancer on May 24, 2008.
Tolu Falode.
Sunny Okosun was born in Enugu, Nigeria on Jan 1, 1947.
He was one of the leading Nigerian musicians from the late 70s to mid 80s.His first band, The Postmen, was formed in Enugu in 1965.
His 1977 song "Fire in Soweto" became a major international hit.
He featured in the anti-apartheid album Sun City, and his song Highlife was in the soundtrack of 1986 film Something Wild.
He made music in Edo, Igbo,Yoruba and English languages.
His mainstream success started to fade in the late 1980s.He died aged 61 of colon cancer on May 24, 2008.
Tolu Falode.
Thursday, 16 February 2012
Wednesday, 15 February 2012
Monday, 13 February 2012
Sunday, 12 February 2012
CULTURAL WORDS OF WISDOM
A person always breaking off from work never finishes anything.
A man who is advised and he takes it, is still a man who acts from his own free will.
A man who has one finger pointing at another has three pointing towards himself.
The rot on a system is always within.
A crowd is like a smoldering log which can spark into a flame at any time.
A mother is gold, a father is a mirrror.
A traveller to distant places should make no enemies.
A man who lives alone is either always overworked, or always overfed.
Although the snake does not fly it has caught the verb whose home is the sky.
A woman who is not successful in her own marriage has no advice to give to her younger generations.
Tolu Falode.
A man who is advised and he takes it, is still a man who acts from his own free will.
A man who has one finger pointing at another has three pointing towards himself.
The rot on a system is always within.
A crowd is like a smoldering log which can spark into a flame at any time.A mother is gold, a father is a mirrror.A traveller to distant places should make no enemies.
A man who lives alone is either always overworked, or always overfed.
Although the snake does not fly it has caught the verb whose home is the sky.
Tolu Falode.
Saturday, 11 February 2012
YOU LIVE...YOU LEARN
A DROP OF KNOWLEDGE.
I left the workplace reluctantly with Mr. M. We were going to the Court House. I walked silently a forced smile on my face feigning my enthusiasm to see the law system that was supposed to uphold the broken edges of this scattered city. As we walked out of the safety of the company, I stepped into the car determined to leave my mind blank. Unfortunately, words spilled out as I questioned the equality of our courts. As we drove through the heat and traffic, okadas gliding between cars and the dirty lagoon acting as the only source of visual distraction, I asked Mr. M about the courts. How long did the cases take? Was it possible to bribe judges? Was the system effective? After all, as a Nigerian, I could not help but feel- how am I supposed to believe in the justice system when corruption runs rife in this land? How could I as an eager law student look at the system without a well of doubt and uncertainity when the news spills with leaders stealing money from the country? How could I feel proud and enthusiastic about the laws of the land when I have not seen any evidence of those laws in action?
As we approached the yellow and white building that was the seat of the Lagos High Court, I was determined to remain quiet and listen; listen to the judges aim to dispense justice, the lawyers argue their cases and the witnesses play their role in guiding the hand of the legal system.
I watched the lawyers as quiet words spilled out of their mouths. My ears burned with impatience as their words failed to carry through the walls of the court room. Astonishment froze my mind in wonder as I watched a senior advocate fumble for words to defend his client. And in that moment, I was able to gain a drop of knowledge about the problems facing the Nigerian Court System. It was not soley the fault of the judge as this learned justice proved as she attempted to guide the lawyers in their cases. It was not solely the fault of the government either. It was the combined failures of the whole legal system that had pushed our growth in the law backwards. The failure of the lawyers to be organised for proceedings, the failure of the judges to dispense justice and the failure of the government to ensure that justice was served. As we all walked out of the air conditioned room into the heat of the Lagosian sun I was silent.
I stepped into the car with Mr. M confused at the turn of events. I had sought to blame the judges and had emerged realizing that the whole system was at fault. This really made me question the ropes of justice that bound my city together. As we stepped out of the dusty compound, my eyes fell on the Tafewa Balewa Square. I was stunned as I was told that this was the building that our independence was handed to us. This was the building that marked the dreams of Nigeria. As I stared with renewed appreciation at the dirty, dusty structure, I was filled with hope.
Our fathers’ dreams still lived on just like the dilapidated structure before my eyes. Though our land had been littered with corruption and greed, the hopes of our people were still alive and we still stood strong as the structure before my eyes. We were still filled with the dreams of our fathers’.
Tolu Falode.
I left the workplace reluctantly with Mr. M. We were going to the Court House. I walked silently a forced smile on my face feigning my enthusiasm to see the law system that was supposed to uphold the broken edges of this scattered city. As we walked out of the safety of the company, I stepped into the car determined to leave my mind blank. Unfortunately, words spilled out as I questioned the equality of our courts. As we drove through the heat and traffic, okadas gliding between cars and the dirty lagoon acting as the only source of visual distraction, I asked Mr. M about the courts. How long did the cases take? Was it possible to bribe judges? Was the system effective? After all, as a Nigerian, I could not help but feel- how am I supposed to believe in the justice system when corruption runs rife in this land? How could I as an eager law student look at the system without a well of doubt and uncertainity when the news spills with leaders stealing money from the country? How could I feel proud and enthusiastic about the laws of the land when I have not seen any evidence of those laws in action? As we approached the yellow and white building that was the seat of the Lagos High Court, I was determined to remain quiet and listen; listen to the judges aim to dispense justice, the lawyers argue their cases and the witnesses play their role in guiding the hand of the legal system.I watched the lawyers as quiet words spilled out of their mouths. My ears burned with impatience as their words failed to carry through the walls of the court room. Astonishment froze my mind in wonder as I watched a senior advocate fumble for words to defend his client. And in that moment, I was able to gain a drop of knowledge about the problems facing the Nigerian Court System. It was not soley the fault of the judge as this learned justice proved as she attempted to guide the lawyers in their cases. It was not solely the fault of the government either. It was the combined failures of the whole legal system that had pushed our growth in the law backwards. The failure of the lawyers to be organised for proceedings, the failure of the judges to dispense justice and the failure of the government to ensure that justice was served. As we all walked out of the air conditioned room into the heat of the Lagosian sun I was silent.
I stepped into the car with Mr. M confused at the turn of events. I had sought to blame the judges and had emerged realizing that the whole system was at fault. This really made me question the ropes of justice that bound my city together. As we stepped out of the dusty compound, my eyes fell on the Tafewa Balewa Square. I was stunned as I was told that this was the building that our independence was handed to us. This was the building that marked the dreams of Nigeria. As I stared with renewed appreciation at the dirty, dusty structure, I was filled with hope.Our fathers’ dreams still lived on just like the dilapidated structure before my eyes. Though our land had been littered with corruption and greed, the hopes of our people were still alive and we still stood strong as the structure before my eyes. We were still filled with the dreams of our fathers’.
Tolu Falode.
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