Who killed our Education?

Who killed our Education? Who pronounced the death sentence? Who are those ensuring that she dies everyday? She really is dying everyday. I refer to education as she because in my opinion education is a mother. She gives birth to all the development we see in the society. Thus, her place is supposed to be hallowed and placed above everything else. Thank God Olufemi Dada's name was mentioned in the papers for graduating with A's in all his courses in his chosen field of Psychology; thus becoming the first Nigerian to graduate with a G.P of 5.0 in Nigeria from the University of Lagos (Dr. Victor Olalusi was the first Nigerian to achieve that feat in 2013 when he graduated with a G.P of 5.0 in the field of Medical Science in Russia).  However, right now Olajumoke is now the brand ambassador of two companies, has been given a modeling contract, etc and her story and story has gone viral. I'm not beefing for her. The stars shone on her, let her enjoy. However, how many companies have offered Olufemi a job? If it did happen, was it ever talked about in the papers? Has his picture gone viral? How many people know his story? Who is celebrating education in Nigeria? Olajumoke will soon become a celebrity with millions of followers on social Medias while most people don’t even know who Olufemi is-these same incidents occurred in Lagos and roughly in the same period. Granted, that there will never be a time educationists and models/fashionistas will have the same amount of publicity; education is the more lack-lustre stuff between the two but isn't there a way the media can make academic excellence look attractive and desirable to our young people? I believe that they simply have the power to do that.  I'm worried about our young ones; I am very worried about them.

Sometime ago, I had very serious issues in school and that was several years after I graduated from the university. I became worried about the fact that I hadn't been mobilized for the national youth service. It was discovered a long time and several visits to school that 17 of my results were missing from their compilation. Now, how can a student be in school and 17 of her results be missing and she wasn't informed by the secretary? What is a student even doing in school if 17 of her results are missing? I was bewildered: I saw most of those results while in school.

 Let me quickly chip this is in-there was a time a result was posted and I had a D. When the same result was reposted, I had an E. Not to mention of a time when I had a missing result and following up the Lecturer to make my complain for months because she was hardly in school, she gave me a huge pile of papers to search for my results. After a long search with the lecturer breathing down my neck, I found my result in another department.

Back to my story-the secretary told me to go and look for my results. A note went off in my head. Where was I going to start? I didn't know any lecturer I could approach for help me. And then, how was I going to walk up to a lecturer to ask for the result of an exam I took 5-6 years ago? I thought it was the job of the secretaries. Please, never go to those offices to tell them what is or what's not their job or you might end up never graduating-such is their power.

In the midst of the shame, embarrassment and unthinkable stress, I embarked on a weeks-long journey of finding my results. I found 11; I was going to take a spill over and the results might not be accepted because I was past due for a spill. That meant that I was on the verge of loosing the admission and all the years of work I had put in and all the money my family had spent. I decided to do something rather than do nothing. I went to all the lecturers involved, bought the textbooks and began preparing for the exams. I read like a madwoman. I was desperate. I wanted to prove to the system that I wasn't getting what I deserved. I prepared like my life depended on it: Infact I was ready to defend my result should the need arise.

On the day of the first exam, I was all nervous. It had been a long time I took an exam and even though I was prepared, I was still very nervous. I got to the hall fifteen minutes to the exam. Seeing all those very young and bright faces cheered me up. I found a seat and settled in. It then dawned on me that the hall was very noise. Everyone was chatting in groups. I thought it absurd: one should normally expect a quiet hall filled with students doing their last minute reading. "Computer age kids, maybe they are geniuses", I mused. When it was time, an announcement was made that the venue of the exam had changed. We went to the new venue, we were told to move to another. And so for the next fifteen minutes, we were trying to settle down and eventually did. 

The answer sheets were shared and I was ashamed to write my matriculation number. For the next twenty minutes, I was encapsulated by answering the questions. I lifted up my head to stretch and I saw the girl beside me copying from my book. I told her to please change some of the words, she said it didn't matter. I told her it mattered to me. I wanted all these result nonsense to stop so I could serve and move on with my life. I continued writing. By the next time I raised my head, I saw a most amazing thing. The girl was looking into my paper; the girl beside her was looking into her paper; and so did the next and the next such that they formed a network of about three rows all copying from one source-me. I couldn't believe my eyes.

After the exam, the girl sitting beside me asked for my name and number. From then, she would locate me during any paper we had together. I asked what level she was; she said she was a spill student: she just finished the previous session and her friend was in final year. I said "You're a spill student and your friend in final year, yet you both are not afraid of failing?" She made a face and said, "What's the point? No matter what you write, you will still sort the course."

To be continued...

You can write to me at: scriptwriter87@gmail.com

Twitter:@club7teen

Frank Talk

 Fred just finished speaking with me. He told me about one of our friends who will be getting married very soon. The information rang some bells in my head. “Lady, you are getting old and still unmarried and not very gainfully employed.” Ooh, he didn’t stop there. He told me about that fair and seemingly unserious girl in our class who recently landed a job with Shell Oil Company. “What am I supposed to do with all these information?”  I asked myself. Do what I’ve always done-feel bad, wonder why things are so bad for me; why I’m so unlucky; get depressed and after a while, become fine.

You know, one day, a prophet met with me and told me I needed to go for deliverance because according to him, several spirits were after me. I didn’t understand why those spirits will leave all these very wealthy people in Nigeria to settle on my case. Maybe they are scared of me and of how I’ll bomb their kingdom with fire and atomic bombs when I become rich (*winks* funny but whatever their reasons are for pursuing me). He said by the time we will be done with the prayers, all these wahalas in my life will be in the past and then everything will be fine. I will even get to marry that yellow pawpaw husband I’ve been desiring.  We scheduled the time for the deliverance and he told me the things I should be doing prior to the time.

Luckily for me, Amaka, one of my faithful friends, the one God will specially bless visited. She talked me out of the madness. You needed to see how she laughed me out of my stupingitis. What's the point in spiritualizing things? She asked me. We live in a country where there are not enough jobs for graduates. You not being gainfully employed is not a spiritual problem; it is a national problem; it is an economic problem. Rewind to forty years ago: all our fathers needed to do was graduate from university and their white collar jobs were there waiting. Nigeria had just gotten her independence and all those vacancies left by the Oyibos were available. They never looked into the future. They never envisaged a time where there will be a more number of graduates than they had as a result of population explosion. They never saw a time when their children and grandchildren would become graduates: so there was no plan. Now, there are no jobs for our teeming young population while our country imports virtually everything, including toothpicks. Hello, sister girl, does that ring a bell in your mind.  You don’t have any spiritual problem!  She said.

Come to think of it, she continued, most of our young men, our future husbands don’t have jobs; so how can a young man who can barely feed think of marriage? I know several young men who want to get married like now but they are broke. Can you tell me you don't know any such person? Can you? These guys are our potential husbands but they can't approach us because they are broke.

I'd like to add a third point. We live in a funny world. People rather Facebook, Tweet or Whatsapp than read. In fact, most of our young people know more about the Kadarshians than what is happening in their country's politics (which affects them whether they stay aloof or not.) They would rather read the latest fashion news than how to build a business. There's nothing wrong with tweeting or keeping up with the Kadarshians; however, in all that, a young man/woman should be able to hold his own. They should be able to make intelligent discussions. They should be able to proffer solutions to life’s problems. They should be qualified for these jobs they are searching for; and by qualification, I mean that the whole world should be your classroom. Have a wide knowledge base.

Nigeria may not have enough jobs for us all right now but she has unrestricted internet access. The average Nigerian Youth has a blackberry, a smart phone or a tablet. What are you doing with all these gadgets? Equip you. It's better to be prepared for an opportunity than to start getting prepared when the opportunity comes; it might not wait. So, sometimes, a young man walks up to me,  a few minutes passes and he can't make any other comment beyond admiring my looks. I want to make an intelligent conversation, I want to engage his mind, and he has nothing to contribute. Air heads. Please, don’t tell me about spiritual problem. There's nothing wrong in a lady desiring a man in the same mental class with her or an even higher class.

This is for all my sisters out there who are not yet married and feeling all that pressure-Relax. No matter how it looks now, everything will be fine in its own time. Have I stepped on someone’s toes? How do you tell a 35-year old lady that she will get married in the perfect time for her? The same way I’ll remind her of that 22-year old girl that died during child birth; of that her classmate whose husband uses her as a punching bag and who ran away from her matrimonial home; of that her neighbor whose husband died after five years of marriage leaving her with three kids. The same goes for the guys. The grass is not greener on the other side. Of course, there are people with good marriages and great jobs; however, life is also filled with stories of misfortunes.

The way out-if you are alive, be grateful for it. Give it your best. Look out for more opportunities to move up. Get better. Live with hope. It will definitely get better. Haven't you heard of late bloomers? Sure, they exist. Looking forward to the better you.

Scriptwriter87@gmail.com twitter@club7teen Instagram:club7teen

THE SHY GUY

“Is it that bad that you will spend a whole night with me on the bed and not touch me, is that how much you do not want me?”

 “I’m feeling cold, can you hold me?”

I’m sure you are familiar with these kinds of sentences. You must have heard it said somewhere or you may have used it yourself. Let me rewind a moment before this plays out. A girl visits a guy and ends up spending the night in his place. It could be a friendly visit or that the girl is stranded. They are not emotionally entangled. They have to sleep on the same bed because there is only one bed and it’s a one bedroom apartment. They are both mature or so the guy thinks and so can handle sleeping on the same bed and be able to handle all those flying hormones that seem to act so erratically these days. The guy changes into a sleeping outfit after the girl had done that and also had to be outside while she changed. He hits the bed and starts snoring almost immediately. The girl is surprised and tries to touch him but he’s really gone. After a few minutes she taps him and says, “Please can you hold me, I’m feeling cold.” The guy tells her to use the duvet. She still thinks he’s sleepy and then really wakes up him up. She goes; “you mean you will just sleep like that? Won’t you touch me at least?” The guy goes; “I cannot have sex with a girl I am not emotionally involved with.” The girl is hurt. She sulks all night. Very early, she packs her stuffs and leave. In one case I know, she severed contact with the guy.

Ladies, are you serious? That’s real love(respect) and that’s a real man. What would it have cost him to take especially since you are the one offering? Many a guy would even try to seduce you but this one chose to uphold your dignity and you were not wise enough to judge him a good man?

We live in a society where sex has been bastardized and made into a free for all thing. The same society is paying for it. Relationships hanging loose because the two were in too much hurry to jump into bed before getting to know themselves. Soaring divorce rate. Broken homes. Broken children. Broken hearts. Damaged ego. Loss of sense of identity, et al. Yet, in all these we all crave to be loved and accepted. We crave for that significant other that will stay for the long run. It amazes me that the human heart craves for this yet so many of us are unwilling to do what it takes to get there. We still follow the status quo and end up at the same end of the road with everyone else.

Haven’t you noticed that when a girl has it together, when she has something to offer other than her pants, she exudes a lot of confidence in contrast to girls who feel that whatever they get in life must be through the power of their pants. That's no place to be.

Ladies, it’s time for us to realize that we are worth more than that position below our skirts. The true beauty of a lady is in her character and the priceless gift of her talents and potentials dished out in the plate of her loving, gentle, resilient and multi-tasked personality. Remember that. Make the man respect the sex he will get from you by the weight of your content because at a point, pure sexual ecstasy will no longer hold what you previously thought was love. There is nothing like casual sex. There is nothing like a one-night stand. It follows you through that night, many more nights and several years to come. It affects you psychologically, sometimes destroying your sense of self worth. 

Stop going there. Stay for that guy that truly knows and deserves you while locking up your stuff. The real guy should get the cookie. Just saying. Lol.

Scriptwriter87@gmail.com

Twitter:@club7teen

The Story of the Dollar and the Naira

“Mom, don’t mention Naira before you call my name” dollar said in feigned anger.

“Shut up Dollar. Naira is your sister. How can you talk about her that way? Have you forgotten when you both were so close in value?”  Their mother cautioned dollar.

“But what did she do with it? Mom, what did she do with it? Mom, do you remember you assigned me to America and she to Nigeria? I hardly see her in America but in Nigeria, her rich men prefer to use me. Sometimes, some of her people that travel down from outside Africa spray me in their ceremonies; how that vexes me.”

“What point are you making, young lady?” her Mom asked, all the time Naira bent her head in shame

“That her people are trying to devalue me but they can’t. I keep rising every day. Right now, one of me is equal to over three hundred of her. See, they have completely made a mockery of her. They spray and trample on her in their ceremonies. How disgusting! I can’t imagine America doing that to me. Do you know they have one thousand of her in one single note?  Looting made easy. Hahaha!”

“Naira, do you have anything to say?” Mom asked. Naira’s head was still bent in shame. She tried to speak but her lips only quivered.

“Mom, do you know another annoying fact-she has the laziest of leaders. Her leaders rather spend me in America and other non-African countries than develop her place. Do you know how many  of her women come to America just to put to birth and have American citizenship? Who wants to have Nigerian citizenship? I heard some time ago, one Governor had an accident; he was rushed to my place for check up. Eh! So she doesn’t have any good hospital in her place? Headache, they come to me” and she gave out a wicked laugh meanwhile Naira has turned from red to purple.

Under her breath, Naira said “But my children will not learn from me. They will not learn from the past. I have given virtually everything from human resource to natural resource to land mass, yet they will not learn.”

“Learn from you? A bad mother? Have you taken your time to teach her anything? Have you ever heard of the American dream? Oh yes, I taught my children to dream of a better America, of a better life and to pursue it with all their heart and might. You, what dream do your children have? Take their own share of the National cake. All your structural adjustment and human empowerment programs are just avenues to siphon money. Your leaders steal from you and take it to go develop other countries. Shame on you Naira! Are you really my sister? Mom, do you know in her place, energy is still poor, so manufacturing is very low. What do they do with their abundant sunlight? Haven’t they heard of solar energy? They import practically everything from toothpick to their refined crude and yet they have very many unemployed graduates and young people. Mom, should go I on?”

“No, don’t. What is it going to be? The story of the dollar and the dollar?”

“Yes mom. It will either be the story of the Naira and the Naira or the story of the dollar and the dollar. I don’t even know who she is. So, for now, it is the story of the dollar and the dollar. Period.”

Mother turned to Naira and said, “Naira it’s time to grow up. You have been given everything. For Christ’s sake, grow up. What is that name they call your children-Giant of Africa? Rise up and grow up because surely, you can.”

“Yes ma” Naira replied.

“And you, dollar, no more gloating.”

“I wish I heard that Mom, but I didn’t. Goodnight.”

Scriptwriter87@gmail.com

Twitter:@club7teen

The Keke Man

So Chioma boarded a bus at ITC Owerri going to Aba. She closed very late at work, and as such the rest of her activities from the time she closed at work to when she got home to pack her stuffs to when she got to the motor park was a mumbo jumbo. She must travel this weekend because it’s been a while she saw her family and their complaining was becoming too much. Immediately the bus moved, she called Amara her younger sister to alert the family that she was on her way home. Amara told her to make sure she got to Brass junction before 9:pm otherwise it might be difficult for her to get home. Chioma thought Amara was bluffing. Their bus pulled up at Brass junction by fifteen minutes past nine. Chioma watched as the last bus drove off from the junction. The next option was the rickety taxis. She tried to pick one of them as drop but their price was high. She just hauled her luggages into the boot of the taxi and paid for one space. She called Amara to call all her younger siblings to come to the street junction to help carry her carry many luggages, all of them things she bought for the family but she couldn’t take her eyes off one lady. She travelled down from Lagos. She had several luggages. She arrived late because there was traffic all the way from Benin to Onitsha (Chioma knew all this because she overheard the lady lamenting). She tried to pick one of the taxis as drop but they all refused to carry her. They said her area was unsafe, unless they drop her at her street junction and she had to make up her mind quickly because soon, they would close for the day. How was she going to handle her very many luggages alone? She tried to call her family; their lines were not going through. She considered sleeping at a hotel but what was she going to do to her luggages? Drag them all to the hotel room when people and offices were becoming increasingly paranoid about loads and bomb attacks? As their taxi drove off, Chioma couldn’t take her mind off the lady.

This is a typical experience people go through since…Before the elections in Aba last year, Keke owners were banned from operating after 8 O'clock. That became merry Christmas for police officers. They would stand at every junction to take money from every defaulting Keke owner. If the Keke person tries to resist, they will threaten with taking him to the police station. Trust me, no defaulter prefers that option. Prior to this time, Keke plied at any time of the day and life was easier for us. Then one of the governorship aspirants met with them. He promised them that if he won, they would operate at any time of the day. After this meeting, probably because of his close ties with the then governor, their time was increased to 9:pm and the policemen also moved up their time. All these while, people kept adjusting and readjusting to these changes in time. You see, that’s the thing with man-he keeps evolving to cope with environmental changes. This aspirant won.

Now, several months later, the time for Keke owners to stop operating is 7:pm. The reason is security-there's been a lot of kidnapping aided by Keke riders. For Christ 'sakes, who advices our governor? Who computes these statistics? Which is easier-to kidnap with a Keke or taxi? If the authorities are alerted, how many minutes can Keke run before a police car catches up with it? Is it comparable to how far a taxi, a bus or a car can run? When a car or taxi is locked with in-built central lock, how will Keke do that magic? When the car glass is wound up and music is turned up so that no matter how much the kidnapped person shouts, he can't be heard: how can Keke do that? When these advisers give their counsel, can't our leaders consider the facts before taking actions? Maybe if our policy makers have ever used Keke as a means of transportation, they will understand what our life is like without it. These Keke operators ply every nook and cranny of Aba; taxis don't. Keke is airy and spacious enough for the three passengers it carries at the back; taxis pack us four at the back and two in the front; it's a nightmare. They increase the price for any distance because they are the only ones on the road at night. They never come out in the day because no one will bother to enter. For any special drop with Keke, the price varies between #250-#400 depending on the distance but with the taxis, you get to hear amounts like #800-#1500 and you wonder if you are travelling out of the city or just going home which is a little distance from where you are. The worst of all is the state of the taxis. It's as if they go to their grandfathers' graves to dig them up. They are so old. If those kidnappers our leaders are trying to protect us from chase these taxis on foot, they won't run too far before catching up. I entered a taxi one day and when I looked down, I could see the tarred road through the floor of the taxi.

If according to government statistics, the number of kidnap incidents are more with Keke, let security measures be put in place: the government can furnish the people with Police hotlines that they can call for emergencies. And once security is alerted, they should swing into immediate action because Keke wouldn't have gone so far that their cars cannot catch up. If taxis must be on the road, then the government should ensure that only the ones in good condition will be on the road. They should make laws that only one passenger sits at the front and three at the back. Or better still they should allow our dear Keke to run at any time of day and night. No city should be shut down as early as 9pm, how much more 7pm; this is what happens when Keke is not on the roads, people are already used to Keke as a major means of transportation within town in the evenings and late in the evenings. Our leaders should learn to make policies with the people in mind. Isn’t that what democracy is about? “Government of the people for the people.”  #LetKekeRunAtAnyTime.

scriptwriter87@gmail.com