To die and live again.

Death is an orphan. No body fathers a popular cataclysm. Death is mysterious. A kind of cosmetic contingency, that is. Unforeseen and stealthy. Painful. Unannounced. Dark and fickle. Sometimes sought after. Other times, and most often, wished away. It can be bitter. Like bile. It can be sweet and melodious. It is mostly used as a curse. Rarely seen as a blessing. Hence a double edged sword.

The Wonders of Hell

The first time you heard about hell was when you were seven. Then, you were a naive, slender-looking boy - faultless. The Sunday school teacher, a heavy-bearded man in his early forties, painted hell as a very horrible place. He grimly told you that hell was a huge, blazing and unquenchable wild fire where sinners would everlastingly roast like cashew nuts when they died. He told you that hell was very hot and stark dark - darker than the back of your mother's pot. There will be gnashing of teeth and regrets, tortuous soldier ants and worms everywhere, your Sunday school teacher taught.

Five Minutes

There was a time when Brother Sam used to have a sound sleep, snoring, saliva all over his rounded mouth, like a snail placed on a heap of hot coals. There was a time when Brother Sam used to wrap himself in his blue blanket, a pink pillow pressed below his thin neck - all he needed to have a glorious night after he had said his bedtime prayers. But last night was different; Sam couldn't close his eyes; he seemed to have lost the padlocks to his eyelids, if there were any.

Men in Black

The vehicle stopped abruptly. We had barely passed Ore. I was travelling to Lagos, from Benin. I did not understand what was happening. Why would we stop at the middle of the road?

“Everybody come down!” the men shouted. All my innocently spurred ignorance were replaced with automatic giddiness. Was I being robbed? My heart skipped.

Letter to Ochuko

My dear Ochuko, I am very sorry you ended up this way. You never concealed your feelings. You behaved like those uncircumcised male goats that flocked around my backyard and put their noses into the smelling buttocks of their female partners.

Mama Nkechi

Anytime I think of Papa Nkechi, I always weep on the inside. That man is passing through hell. He has been to several churches but all seemed not to have offered any significant help. They all required Mama Nkechi to be present before any solution could be offered. But she won’t just go!

Premium on knowledge

‘Nigeria In Our Hands’ was an online forum created by Vincent Nwajiobi. The forum existed for several days and raised many solutions to some contemporary problems. These solutions would be shared on Kalligraphy. Do well to read through, it would worth your while.

Den of Thieves

King David in his reign as a king wanted to build an earthly house for God. We were told he had a mind that sounded thus; ‘how can I dwell in a well-decorated house and the Lord dwells in tents’? God forbade him from building the house but prophesied that his son following would build the house. Solomon, David’s son, built an earthly house for God. God’s temple was built and was used for many of the activities God wanted the Israelites to perform.

Tough love

Exams are ended again. Students are now free. That is, psychological tranquility returns. There is a kind of bondage that exams usually create. The type that makes students unconsciously forget to pray, to eat, to brush tooth and most times, to bathe. Some students culture dirt, like a garden. They then release odoriferous body odors which distorts the smooth running of exams. This, of course, can invariably be related to the recent rise in examination failures. But exams are not an excuse for being unkempt.

SUG, the struggle and the way forward.

Exams are meant for the students. Not the other way round. But some students fear exams. They quake and run helter-skelter when exam approaches. In all these fiasco, some students run to their books, a few others run to fellowships to seek spiritual help. But those who read would often pass.

A good will.

Benjamin, PANS president UNIBEN

Politics is a very tricky game. It is like poker. That is, when people appear to be here, they are actually there. Most times, politicians even get confused by their own antics. Thereafter, they lose focus and embark on white elephant projects. They do this to gain cheap popularity and siphon funds.

Many student leaders have come and gone. A majority leave office with a dilapidated reputation. They enter as poor, wretched and humble soul but leave office like a spoilt son-of-the-devil. To be a devil’s child is evil enough but when a devil’s child becomes spoilt, it is an emergency.

But this is not the case for Benjamin Idiakhoa, PANS president 2016. Rather, he focuses on reasonable student friendly projects. His stellar performance breaks the silence in the faculty. His deeds etiolate the rocks and echoes in the caverns. His political affluence is observed by both lecturers and students alike. This is not an age of riddles. Hence pharmacy students don’t need an elucidation on the Benjamin brand. His performance is no longer questionable. He has rose above the fray.

The Dean, inspecting the items

Recently, Pharmacy laboratories received new equipment. This was an act of good will. They were from the Benjamin led administration. The equipment arrived amidst the struggle to clear the faculty name from the sub-standard. The instruments were, 2 binocular microscopes, 2 monocular microscope, 3 cartons of porcelain dishes, and 4 cartons of conical flasks. 8 weighing balances and 100 dispensing bottles.

The Dean, Prof. John Akerele lacked words to express his gratitude. So also were the lecturers in Pharmaceutics. “It is very hard to find students committed to development such as this, I wish all other student leaders cue in this line as this will surely help the pharmacy profession” says the Dean, Prof. Akerele. Benjamin is now a reference student leader. If the dean of pharmacy, in his lofty position could see this as an act of good will, then it is good will.

RIP Stephen Keshi and Amodu Shuaibu

Amodu

Tragedy struck Nigerian football again early on Saturday morning, when former Super Eagles coach and Technical Director of the Nigeria Football Federation, Amodu Shuaibu, died in his sleep in Benin City, Edo State. His death came just three days after another ex-national team coach and close friend of Amodu, Stephen Keshi, died in the same town.

Keshi

Keshi became the first Nigerian to win the Africa Cup of Nations as captain and coach, after leading the Super Eagles to victory in the 2013 edition of the competition hosted in South Africa. He also qualified Nigeria for the 2014 FIFA World Cup hosted in Brazil.

But humans are hypocrites. They condemn you when you are living and then praise you at death. The NFF never saw anything good in Keshi. Now they sing his eulogies. This is not the kind of spirit we need around here. Hence Gilbert Alasa noted “If you ever doubt the hypocrisy in the human spirit, wait for the day you drop dead. Even your mean, wicked landlord will brand you the best tenant ever.” Remember Stephen Keshi and how he was treated by NFF.

Treat all men as they are. If bad people die and you can’t speak frankly of their evil act, keep your mouth shut. Also, don’t hate good people when they are alive. Keshi resurrected the spirit of National football. Rest in peace Keshi and Amodu.

© Ezekiel Efeobhokhan
500 pharmacy UNIBEN

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PANS Politics.

PANS politics has become a shadow of common sense. This week, we would use a commentary from Victor Obagidi a 300 level student pharmacy student UNIBEN. He has simply packaged the recent happenings in PANS UNIBEN in his short exhortation to political righteousness. Student or not, this piece will teach you how to be rational and objective. Enjoy.

Victor

“Dear Friends,

As funny and annoying as this message might read, please do well to read it comprehensively.

Right from the very first day I stepped into the University of Benin as a Pharmacy student, the experiences till date has been awesome (both positive and negative).

But then, I want to base my writing on my experience with the Pharmaceutical Association of Nigerian Students (PANS) UNIBEN politics. I recall vividly when a senior colleague met the innocent me at basement and asked me the state I came from. I replied "Edo state, Etsako East to be precise" and then he smiled at me and said thank God. I wondered why he thanked God because he met an Edo boy. After several minutes of telling me sweet things as how pharmacy is the best course I could have ever chosen, he then introduced me officially into PANS politics with a clear picture of the two major faction existing in the faculty of Pharmacy just like APC and PDP. 

It really sounded interesting although annoying as he urged me to belong to a sect as a result of my state of origin. I laughed and gave him a shocking answer which was a "NO" not because I was proud but because I had spent years building a life of value and I wasn't ready to loose my value to sentiments all in the name of politics. He wasn't happy about my response as he asked me if I had any political ambition in the faculty. I replied "NO, I have no ambition in politics but I have an ambition in Pharmacy which is ensuring that I do the right thing always regardless of who is doing the wrong thing and to take with me, as many people as possible in the right direction"

Did I regret saying that? No... I didn't and will never do. This mandate has made me pay attention to the PANS politics as it is being played and in my opinion, what is being practiced is not politics but immaculate hatred where progress is the alternative forgone for selfish reasons. 

For complete 3years, I have seen a pure example of sentimental politics where ambition rules over the collective vision of the association. I have experienced a system where hatred has become a norm for as long as you are not for a particular set of people. I have learnt first-hand a typical projection of "the best player of the game wins" even if the best player is not the best for the job. I have been fed with delicacies that has an aroma of brotherhood and sisterhood where I should give in to whatever my brother say even when I am convinced it is the wrong thing. I have seen people desperate for positions to an extent that they'll go to any length just to get what they want and a system where the wrong thing has been altered to seem right to make it alright.

Truth be told, we have different view of what politics is and we all have different views on what it actually means but do we know what it actually means? Must we always make it dicey as the environment has painted it for us to see?  Must we make enemies out of this so called politics? Must our colleagues whom we met by the chance of becoming professionals in the same field be our next victim of ridicule all because we want a position? Is our ambitions superior to the happiness of many? Is our desperation more important than the precious life of our colleagues? Is our conscience that dead that we don't really care?

The future looks so bright but the so called politics is projecting a tomorrow that would be full of strive and battles. May I remind you, the Pharmaceutical Society of Nigeria (PSN) of today started from the faculty level, the Pharmaceutical Council of Nigeria we see today was built some time ago also at the faculty and the battles being fought among pharmacists also started at the faculty level. Many of us are blindly looking at these sensitive issues with little or no concern as we are living for the now irrespective of what the future holds and these damages are being done gradually.

What is my point? We need to grow as individuals and as a faculty beyond this level where we are to become a team through thick and thin. On this note, I humbly plead to every pharmacy student reading this piece especially the undergraduates like myself who are still in the pipeline of reformation to become pharmacists to embrace unity irrespective of the color, race, ethnicity and relationship. 

Let's join hands to build a better profession we would all be proud of. Let's come together to pursue a common goal. Am I saying we shouldn't support whoever we want to support? No! All I am asking is for a united pharmacists in training who would show love to one another regardless of our individual interest and without pride and prejudice. Let's see beyond what the people before us has painted politics to be. Let's define it our own way so we can get a better unity than we inherited.

I stand to uphold the UNITY of this profession and I beg you to join me in this race by passing this messages across to any pharmacy student you come in contact with. The future of Pharmacy lies in our hands and we must make it the best for those coming behind. Let us all join our hands in integrity as men of honor to SAY NO TO UNHEALTHY POLITICAL DIVISION.

I believe in the great faculty of Pharmacy, 

I believe in the great intellectuals called PANSites, 

I believe in the UNITY of PANSites and 

I believe in YOU.”

Victor Obagidi

300 level Pharmacy UNIBEN.

That was cool, isn’t it? But it is all good. At least, if someone could reason like this, it shows that Kalligraphy is not alone in the struggle for common sense. Let us join hands to flush out these crazy form of politics. Because if this generation continues like this, then we would have vanity and bad government for dinner. 

Happy birthday Eddy Uwoghiren.

Eddy

Sometime in 2012, while my mates were in class, I went to complete an assignment in the cheap and not so popular MTN library. There I met Eddy Uwoghiren, a medical student. He had read one of my article and said he loved it. (Although the write-up was filled with bias). He connected me with his editor and boom, I became like Eddy, reporting for the Nation newspaper. From him, I met Gilbert Alasa, my mentor. Here I am today because of a positive connection with a true patriot. Happy birthday Eddy and many happy returns. I am here today because he was there.

© Ezekiel Efeobhokhan

500 pharmacy UNIBEN

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VALUE SYSTEM

We all run into different people on a daily basis. What we make of them is what they become. But there are some basic truths about relationships we ought to know.

No matter how costly you think you are, you will not be priced more than what the other person can afford. By that I mean; ‘never blame anyone for taking you cheaply’. In every failed expectation in a relationship a large chunk of the blame usually goes to the person who feels he/she is the victim. You should not blame a tomato seller for giving you N2, 000 for a golden necklace. She does know that the necklace is very costly but her pettiness, which is not her fault, cannot allow her afford a higher price. So, instead of running amok because of her low price tag, go to someplace else where your golden necklace would be valued.

Here’s a story on the value of life. Enjoy.

A little boy went to his old grandpa and asked, "What's the value of life?"

The grandpa gave him one stone and said, "Find out the value of this stone, but don't sell it."

The boy took the stone to an Orange Seller and asked him what its cost would be.

The Orange Seller saw the shiny stone and said, "You can take 12 oranges and give me the stone."

The boy apologized and said that the grandpa has asked him not to sell it.

He went ahead and found a vegetable seller. "What could be the value of this stone?" he asked the vegetable seller. The seller saw the shiny stone and said, "Take one sack of potatoes and give me the stone." The boy again apologized and said he can't sell it.

Further ahead, he went into a jewelry shop and asked the value of the stone.

The jeweler saw the stone under a lens and said, "I'll give you 50 million for this stone." But the boy refused to sell. The boy explained that he can't sell the stone.

Further ahead, the boy saw a precious stone's shop and asked the seller the value of this stone.

When the precious stone's seller saw the big ruby, he lay down a red cloth and put the ruby on it. Then he walked in circles around the ruby and bent down and touched his head in front of the ruby. "From where did you bring this priceless ruby from?" he asked. "Even if I sell the whole world, and my life, I won't be able to purchase this priceless stone.

Stunned and confused, the boy returned to the grandpa and told him what had happened. "Now tell me what the value of life is, grandpa?"

Grandpa said, "The answers you got from the Orange Seller, the Vegetable Seller, the Jeweler & the Precious Stone's Seller explains the value of our life...

You may be a precious stone, even priceless, but people will value you based on their financial status, their level of information, their belief in you, their motive behind entertaining you, their ambition, and their risk taking ability. But don't fear, you will surely find someone who will discern your true

value." Respect yourself. You are Unique. No one can replace you.

No matter who we meet. Male or female. Married or single. Benevolent or stingy. Cheerful or sad; No matter their predisposition, they either add to our value or subtract from us. Hence the more reason we are to know which relationship to foster or the one to starve to death. Stay tuned. We will be right back.

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© Ezekiel Efeobhokhan

500 level Pharmacy UNIBEN

Have you ever been into a wrong relationship?

Feel free to share your experience.

Anonymity would be granted if wanted.

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PANS Pageantry: Beauty and the Brain

Beauty and Brain. These two features rarely meet. Hence, most of the time, we find beauties devoid of brains. These ones go around wreaking havoc. Take a look at our celebrities. Many of them are endowed with physiological assets. But they are just clean and empty. They go into marriages and allow trivial things determine the success of their home. Those with beauty need brain. Else they become a bag of beans, no value.

Valerie Obakpolor is one of those rare breeds. She is the new Miss Ultra-Cal-C. She is not just a pretty face but also brainy. She has the carriage of hope and the content of quality. Good enough. Congratulations.

But many ladies need to learn. They need to be taught that values are tangible, and that it supersedes body shapes and contours. It is the content and not the casing that should be prioritized. It is what you are made-of and not make-ups that keeps marriages. Our ladies need to become personalities that create values and sustain visions. Many ladies need a change of value systems.

Change this Change.

Talking about change. It is time to change this warped form of change APC brought around here. We hoped for a better change. But these guys somehow have a funny way of making sad things look pleasant. They remove fuel subsidy and tell us it is sacrifice. Yes, it may be a sacrifice. But they have to pay for it. Pushing the sacrifice to the citizens to pay is not the best option.

Except we want to succumb to primordial sentiments, the increase in PMS is a clear breach of trust. At some point we need to ask ourselves some introspective questions; whether anything has significantly change after this change came into power? It may not be judgment day yet for Buhari and his APC friends. But he has spent more time puffing and huffing about the fight against corruption. We don’t like this change. Please change this change in fuel price.

But God doesn’t change. He is the same yesterday, today and forever. See this anonymous post; ‘With the current increase in price of everything, we should be grateful to God that he has not increased the tithe to 15%. It is still 10%. Be faithful and don’t rob God. Even with the economic situation and inflation, the wages of sin has not changed. The price is still death. While the gift of life is still free. Isn’t that wonderful?’

Happy Birthday Prince

He smiles rarely. But whenever he does, it is from the heart. He laughs and does so with happiness. He tries to please yet not everyone gets pleased. He is the class representative of the 500 level pharmacy class, UNIBEN. He is a personification of simplicity. He does not pride himself even if there are myriads of opportunity to do so. He is a scholar yet he does not flaunt his superior airs and credentials. Congratulations Prince Uba on your birthday. Kalligraphy celebrates with you.

Ezekiel Efeobhokhan

500 level pharmacy.

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The stellar class.

The people of Oliha saw great light. The traders, mostly the elderly came in large numbers, and left rejoicing. Pharmacy students always leave a mark; good marks for posterity to pride on. Although, the crowd almost got out of control, yet the students soon controlled them appropriately. Nice.

This rally raised many solutions. It was timely and properly managed. The initial venue had been corrupted by ragamuffins. Thugs were doing what they know to do best; fighting with guns and live bullets. Hence the pharmacy students could not go close to ring road axis of Benin. Else, they administer their drugs to themselves. But the new venue was a better option.

Thanks to all those who turned out for the program. Especially the 300 level class. They are the stellar class. The 300 level class outnumbered all other levels present. Even, they outnumbered the class of the president. It is rarely so. It wasn’t just a miracle to find a class (300 level) committed to such humanitarian service but it was also a terrible reality to find a class (500 level) so unaware, and with such tiny-littleness of willingness to offer humanitarian services. They were like the sycophants in Jesus’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem. But as Jesus told the Pharisees; ‘stones could replace humans when human’s decides to shut their lips’. The majority of the 500 level class shut their knowledge. Hence they were replaced. 

While we relish the public show of charitable heroism by the 300 level class, we regrettably pine away in the low-down unpatriotic patriotism of the 500 level class. One class has shown unity and indivisibility. The other showed an acute form of accumulated malfeasance. The 300 class were clad in unity and purposeful goals. But the 500 level class were clad in individuality and corrupted love. 

But one is still a political virgin. And the other, is marked with strains of political cleavages; like a virgin raped off her political sensibility. The 500 level class hold strong to a clique of individual orientation. It is a crazy orchestra of broken rhythm in a class consisting of ‘blood brothers.’ Shame. Hope they change and restitute for this pharmaceutical monstrosity. These little humanitarian services we render, sometimes are what protects our sanity in this horror ridden clime that we currently live in.

Talking about humanitarian services;

Prisca Anyakee is a pharmacist. Breaded in the great University of Benin; she has decided to give back to the society. She has emulated the benevolence of Dora Akunyili. She has extended the border of her profession to helping the illiterate, those ignorant about healthy living. If you are an ardent follower of her blog posts you would notice the things posted there are little information that could sometimes be the difference between the living and the dead. Doctors, Pharmacists and other health workers usually ignore such details. Little leavening they say, leaveneth the whole lump.

Prisca has decided to build an educative platform to spread the message about the importance of fitness, skin care, dieting and other necessary indices. Instead of posting obscene comments and statuses, many young persons can apply for mentorship from this amazon. Here is a pharmacist who cares about others. Follow Prisca Anyakee on www.prisschar.blogspot.com.

Ezekiel Efeobhokhan

500 level pharmacy.

University of Benin.

Edo State, Nigeria

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LAURETTA IS PRESIDENT

Many kicked when she first began. They thought it was something that can never reach political efficacy. To them, it would take Armageddon before Lauretta could win. But they were wrong. There was no Armageddon and Lauretta won.

Her supporters waxed poetic; they chanted songs. Some others used graphics. A few stood aloof, mute. But as far as they were concerned, Lauretta must be preached.

Lauretta became a philosophy. She was not just an aspirant. She was a brand. Everyone abandoned their books. Both the scholars and the not so scholarly. To them, even if this was not Prof. Ray’s pharmacology, yet they couldn’t afford to carry this over.

I thought pharmacy was apolitical. But I was wrong. So was also all the political apparatchik who thought pharmacy students wouldn’t abandon their books. We were disappointed. It was a

good disappointment.

Her campaign train alone was made up of more than 400 pharmacy students. Someone, a student from the social sciences, said, ‘if pharmacy students could suspend their classes and books to come out like this for this lady, then they must have seen something in her’.

The crowd was so intimidating that when the campaign got to the faculty of Engineering, they prevented us from passing through their faculty. They were like the Edomites who refused the Children of Israel passage through their country to the promise land. Although Pharmacy students were not coming from Egypt but they were surely en-route to their promise land. Political promise land. The embryo Engineers beckoned to the President of PANS to turn his crowd around. But pharmacy refused. What could have led to a blood bath was addressed quickly. It took the Chief Security Officer to calm things down. PDP and APC supporters ought to learn from these students; it is not all the time you use bullets and axes to settle disputes. Sometimes, words can be cheaper and safer.

PSN also need to draw some quantum of Knowledge from these students. They should know when to join forces to win the bigger battle. Before now, the faculty wasn’t settled, politically. But when a common purpose was seen, they abandoned their differences. That was intelligence. Intelligence is knowing when to lose a battle for the common good. If these set of students join the PSN in coming years, then all the political upheaval currently brandishing the PSN would be gone. It is just a matter of time. Sorry for the digression. Back to Lauretta.

Lauretta expressed her calm and commandeered her campaign. Something is different about her. She knows when to say what to say. Speaking softly and intelligently when needed.

Hear her words to those gender-unequal minds; “To all those who have skepticism about a female being a president. This is for you; ‘Read the Bible, learn about the story of Deborah; behold, another Deborah is standing in front of you today’. I bear the plight of a woman and understands the pains of a man. Leadership is not about gender. Women and men can be good leaders. Watch me as I take UNIBEN to glory and you will thank me later.”

What about Samuel Ugwumba? The self-styled Lena. He is the numero uno of PANS politics. He speaks like a cleric. He connived with his repartee to rejig the mindset of pharmacy students. He is calm and halcyon. Someone has said, ‘If you want to have a quarrel with Lena, never allow him speak first, because after he is done, you may be the one apologizing’. I don’t care what you belief, but if Lena had not stepped in when he did, Lauretta would be somewhere counting her losses. He deserves a standing ovation.

And for the PANS president Benjamin Idiakhoa, he is crème de la crème. With his integrity he sought the support of other faculties. He carries with him the excellent mien of a reputable speaker. He soon lost his voice during the elections. He led PANS into victory. He can now dust his shoulder and breathe an air of relief as he has achieved the not-so-popular.

Time would fail to mention all others. But know this, your names have been written in marbles. You have written the history of pharmacy in UNIBEN. When this page would be open in ages to come, it will be said, you made IMPACT 2016 a reality. Gracias. Lauretta is now President SUG UNIBEN.

Ezekiel Efeobhokhan

500 level Pharmacy

SPOKEN WORDS COMPETITION

Hope for African Girls Initiative presents A Spoken Words Competition with the theme; Girls not BRIDES; Your Call

We are pleased to announce our Spoken Word Competition aimed at gathering the advocacy message of young people aged 18-28 on the subject of Girl Child Marriage. We want to find the most powerful and compelling poetic responses to one of the biggest threats of our time, and to make sure that younger voices are part of the debate and are heard as we mount efforts to put an end to this scourge in Africa and beyond.

Can you get young girls to imagine how they might live their lives differently? Can you move people to think about their future, and to want to change it? We’re running a spoken word competition to find the most powerful and compelling poetic responses to one of the biggest threats of our time.

We are calling on young people between the ages of 18 - 28 to write and perform a spoken word poem that responds to Girl Child Marriage

Your submission should be a written poem that you will perform at the final round of the Competition, It should be between 50 – 400 words. You will be short-listed on the written piece and judged on based on the number of Votes and feedback from the audience.

The final will be a live performance of your work. The deadline for entries is midnight on May 30th 2016. The competition kicks off on 1st June and ends on the 20th (Voting ends on 12am, on the 20th of June) The winner will be contacted via email to attend the GIRL not BRIDE event in Lagos on 25th of June where he will be given a trophy and a cash prize of 100,000

Judges: Your work will be professionally judged by 3 professional spoken word artists known for their work.

The shortlisted poet (Winner) will receive a fee of N100,000 for this performance and a professionally filmed and edited video of their performance.

The winner will be widely promoted on our networks and the networks involved in this competition.

All entries will join a global campaign encouraging people to take a bold step in putting a stop on Girl Child Marriage

The Time Is Now! Get your voice heard.

To enter send your spoken words to haginitiative@gmail.com marked #GirlsnotBrides with your name, age, email address and telephone number before midnight on May30th. Please also tell us how you heard about this competition.

All entries must be between 50 - 400 words and applicants must be between the ages of 18 - 28.

The competition is open to both Genders.

SPOKEN WORDS COMPETITION

Application is now open for the 2016 Girl's Empowerment Seminar scheduled to hold on 25th of June 2016 at Lagos.

Theme: "Girls not BRIDES" Your Call

To be hosted by Hope for African Girls Initiative (HAGi)

Students from any African Tertiary Institutions are eligible to apply. Send in your application to Haginitiative@gmail.com giving reason(s) why you wish to attend the Seminar.

Application closes by January 20 June, 2016

This event will promote not only healthy self-esteem and self-image, but also provide practical tools for overcoming many of the issues that affect today's young girls such as:

Child Marriage

Peer Pressure

Purpose in life

Being different is okay and so much more!

We invite young girls to REGISTER; ages 18-24 years old to this fun-filled day. The seminar will start at 10am and last through 5pm. We will provide lunch and the girls will also receive a gift bag at the end of the event.

Register TODAY and take advantage of this great opportunity.

These young girls are our future, as such we encourage fellow Organizations to partner with us in making this seminar a true success and transform their lives. You can get involved by volunteering your time or making a financial donation to sponsor a young girl. We are confident that with your support, we will be able to watch their lives change before our eyes.

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Application closes by 20 June, 2016.

ESE ORURU:THE BLAME GAME

ESE ORURU: THE BLAME GAME.

The parents of Ese should be blamed for carelessly exposing Ese to such criminal elements as Yunusa. It is common how parents use their children as employees. Instead of letting them rest after school hours, they bring them to the shop in order to help them run the family business, thereby cutting cost. Ese’s case was no difference. Instead being in the house studying, Ese was always in the shop with ‘mama’. Thereby making her a perfect prey for unscrupulous elements like Yunusa. This will not only increase the risk of becoming wild and precocious but will negatively affect their academics.

The Bayelsa state government should close its mouth in shame; it could not stand up for the rights of its citizen who also happen to be a minor. The federal government, with all the awareness created by the media about Ese remained mute about the subject, no public statement about it. Too bad. Even if silence can be the best type of response sometimes, yet silence can also show indifference and cluelessness. Comments from the president especially being the number one citizen and a Muslim would have made a lot difference. You don’t need to steal government fund before you are corrupt. The act by Yunusa is corruption. Just as Sam Omatseye puts it, “It is a corruption of childhood, of law, of religion and of natural rights”.

The Emir of Kano and the Emirate council acted very late. Ese, remained in his custody all through her estrangement from her parents. That made him guilty. Very guilty. A girl was abducted and brought to your palace; and all we hear after months of her imprisonment is a public statement denying the fact that she wasn’t married off and that the police didn’t obey your order. It’s a belated response sir. Very belated. If any of those excuse were valid, then we would have heard the news about Ese from you. The Emir’s palace would have issued a statement on the refusal of the police to return Ese to her parents. But nothing was done. But thank God for the media. Thank God for Punch.

The Nigeria Police Force NPF usually never fails to amaze me. In a way still shrouded in mystery, in every widely broadcasted news, the Nigeria police always consistently make themselves the black sheep. After all, they are black men in black uniform! Nonsense.

They usually, never know the difference between right or wrong. To them, if you are poor, you are wrong. If you are not a politician, you are wrong. If your political party doesn’t occupy Aso rock, you are wrong. They do things to please certain selected individuals. They are hypocrites of the first order. They heard of Ese’s case before the media, yet they swung into action with state-of-the-art sloppiness. If the police had acted timely, maybe Ese wouldn’t have been pregnant. The police take the chief blame. It was this same sloppiness that made the rescue of the kidnaped Chibok girls impossible; the army dragged their feet while the girls were been dragged to slavery.

The NPF can redeem their image. There area other girls reportedly married off in suspecting conditions. They can learn their lesson from Ese’s case and act more swiftly before the media helps them do their job again. Lucy Ejeh, Patience Paul and Charity Uzoechina. All these are names recently indicated by the media as victims of child marriage. They should help re-unite them with their families.

Our girls should be protected. We need more ladies to serve the society positively. Girls should be allowed to enjoy their childhood. This can only happen if we give them a chance to choose their path. And not selling them off because of some mundane and primordial line of thought. It is not enough to ask for justice for Ese. Neither is it enough to bring punishment on Yunusa Dahiru. But there is a bigger picture. It is about the protection of the future of the female folks. It is about saving the future from this sort of emotional fisticuff. It is about doing away with the past, mundane and terrible cultures. It is about being modest. It is about giving the right orientation to religious men. It is about love and protecting the vulnerable.

God help Nigeria.

Ezekiel Efeobhokhan
500 level Pharmacy (Pharm D)
University of Benin.

MARRIAGE TROUBLES

(Flashback to childhood mama and papa play)

I looked at Sandra furtively, I was subtly irritated by her now, she wasn’t listening to me. My opinion on how the family should be ran, mattered little to her.  My mum listened to my dad that was what supposed to be playing out here too! I stood there annoyed, secretly wishing she wasn’t my wife that afternoon. 

I missed Nifemi, she wasn’t like Sandra, she was calmer, didn’t behave as if she was the smartest one, wasn’t as bullish as Sandra. I wished she was the one who was cooking in front of me, I wasn’t enjoying this marriage.

“We need tomato, there’s none here” Sandra turned and said to me. She must have felt I was enjoying this. This was a guess though, her countenance was rigidly expressionless.

I stared at her for a while, bewildered at what she was asking from me. That wasn’t supposed to be my job. Didn't she understand how these things were done? She couldn't just follow convention. I hissed silently. 

Was it not children that went on errands? 

I was the head of the home, my duty should be to fend for the family, give out monies, send my children on errands; stuff that Nifemi would understand, not to help get tomatoes!

 I shook my head while I went to fetch the tomatoes. I enjoyed being in control, dictating what to do. She was gradually sucking the fun out of this too, that's how things with her always turned out to be. Monochromatic. Dull. Kill joy. 

Kunle was there when I returned. Kunle was always the erratic son who seldom like to stay with the family. He had become stereotyped, not that he ever cared though. He was considerably taller than me, some would even say bigger, but all that was trivial.  I was his father now. The script was that sons listened to their father, and he didn’t do otherwise, he liked being my son, or any body's son. He was holding the baby. Rocking her gently as any older brother would, firmly in character. The look in his eyes was that of sublime admiration. I always maintained he was too good for this role, but he never really liked being a brother or friend, being a son was what rocked his boat and he stuck with it.  Today, he was no different; today he was totally following my script, pretending to do the things I asked. I like the days he behaved like this, the days his mood wouldn’t be too ecstatic and he’d forget he promised to be my son after we had agreed the day before.

‘’Daddy, welcome’’ he greeted cheerfully.

‘’My son welcome, how was school?” I quizzed, as I handed the canned tomatoes to Sandra.

She wouldn’t understand the uncanny stunt I pulled to get it, or did she? Normally a bad one would suffice but not for me. Even though I wasn’t with any money, I had arrived with a fresh can of tomatoes, how I enjoyed making the cooking not too farcical. 

She was stirring the food which was still heating. Her cooking always took long, I wondered if she was lost in the drama of the entire theme. She was too meticulous, too ‘’by-the-book’’, but I had just admired Kunle for being the same, there was just something about Sandra, something irksome.

I thought of Nifemi again, she wasn't back yet, she probably was still in school. I looked on at Sandra now, becoming half disinterested, I was already half annoyed. 

The room was musty now, it was probably because of the bad vegetables she used, or the obvious mixture of "unmixables". It only meant one thing though; the food was almost ready. I looked out the window and saw Ogijo. Not so long ago, he was my brother in the scheme of things, but he too would not visit again because of Sandra. He had abandoned us. He and Sandra were not talking to each other now. She liked to boss everyone around and Ogijo didn’t tolerate that, he disliked her too. There, I had said it, I disliked her. I wondered why I was still with her, still married to her, maybe the prospect of being a Daddy was all too good and it attracted me totally, blinding me to the vivid obnoxiousness of my wife or maybe I was just bored of the TV programs that afternoon; too close to call.

Ogijo had his own family now, apparently, Julia was his wife now and I could tell they were returning from the rear of the compound. They held different kinds of foodstuff in their hands, some had obviously lost color as usual, but nonetheless, they looked happier, no one was overdoing anything. I envied Ogijo, though I knew I would only be as happy as him, if it was Nifemi cooking beside me, if it was her that was my wife. 

‘’Kunle, your sister is crying, you don’t know the smoke is disturbing her? Take her outside” Sandra barked. 

‘’Daddy, while I’m dishing out the food, help me call the children in so we can all eat’’ she quipped. 

Daddy? She had called me “Daddy”. Nifemi would say Jindu or Darling, everything seemed so surreal with Sandra. I felt nostalgia, just yesterday when I was with Nifemi. When it was Nifemi that was my wife, everything had been so convivial, it was always more fun with her. My disinterest grew as I sat on the stool at the side of the room, the room whose ceiling was probably crawling with all the genera of cobwebs known to man. I felt niggles. I wanted to leave but I didn’t know how to tell Sandra, how would she take it? I was a little scared of her, I had to admit that. She had beat me up a few times, not that I ever admitted that though. I always preferred to say we tied.

I was watching the swarm of ants that was crawling on the wall above me, they were always so courteous, never failing to acknowledge one another, no matter the kind of hurry they were in. I marveled at them. 

‘’Daddy, call them now’’ she was sounding bullish now, obviously proud of the meal she had prepared.

I wondered if she couldn’t read my body reaction, which was screaming leave me alone, albeit as mildly as I could let out. I strutted out of the room looking for Kunle and the baby, he was at the other side of the compound, he had left the baby on the pavement, playing football with Ogijo. I wondered why Ogijo had left his family so soon. Julia was still cooking her own version of the "unmixables" when I passed her near the gate, at the rear of the compound. We had gotten the favorable spot for our own family. She and Ogijo had to make do with the shade which the tall building provided. Truth was that, normally we left our families anytime we wanted to, except of course it was Sandra playing your wife. 

Then it happened! 

“Chukwujindu’’ screamed my mother on top of her voice. 

That signaled two things; my little family play with Sandra and Kunle was over and It spelt trouble, she only ever called my full name when I erred, when I had ‘’done something’’. I dashed away screaming ‘’ma’’ as loudly as my voice could take, as I ran, I wondered what I had done, I had to think fast, I had to prepare my defense.

Was it the can of tomatoes I had collected from the fridge? 

But I had seen two there, and they had been there a long time, no way she was going to use it today, or was she? I picked up my pace and suddenly stopped, the baby (my cardigan which Sandra had folded to the shape of a baby cot) still lay at the pavement, where Kunle had left it. I couldn’t risk my dad driving in and seeing it at the front of the compound and he could drive in at any moment, a voice in my head quipped. I ran back to collect it, there I saw Nifemi and her mum enter the compound. She probably stayed back at her mother’s shop after school, I was saying a quick ‘’good afternoon ma” to her mum when I heard my mum scream my name again, this time louder, and more ferocious. I entered the living room, with palpable fear, there she was scowling.

‘’Gini ki ne me since mmu na akpogi. Your lesson teacher has been looking for you’’. 

 I looked up and saw her, Auntie Eunice, smiling away, I could see through the facade though. I had written absolute guesses on my quantitative reasoning assignments. It was deliberate, I never seemed to understand that subject and even all my brainstorming efforts still produced the wrong answers. I went into my room to get my backpack and then I thought of Nifemi again…

Chris Izuchukwu Okafor

KALLIGRAPHY gets new partner

It's funny how your pen stops abruptly when you're asked to write about yourself. You try to sell and at the same time try to avoid the uppity of seemingly over selling. It is a simple job at the surface but starting, it gets a little mundane. 

 I hail from Anambra state, from the popular arts crafting village of Igbo-ukwu. It is referenced in almost all of Nigeria's visual arts books. No pressure. I tend to believe in my quest for being para-normal.

‘The voice of the people is the voice of God’, a popular adage I don't totally agree with. Doubting? Ask Mary Slessor. Ask Martin Luther. Ask Nelson Mandela. For some obvious reasons, I'm the kind of being that believes a radical change is always needed for growth.

I believe society's thinking is usually conformed to the norms that are particularly popular or evident. Challenging it, you're normally tagged a "Radical". No pressure again.

My mentors are sort of. Chimamanda, Soyinka, Achebe, Sissulu, Von Staffenberg, Ayo Sogunro, Chude Jideonwo, Nelson Mandela. They all make me marvel at the nature of their minds, axiomatically beautiful. OK, let me not digress. 

I'm a writer, a social critic who thinks black Africa needs a psychological study really fast to determine if our leaders cannot understand that we are being left behind in the scheme of things. Why our leaders are unflinchingly determined to make sure we continue to be the destination for multitudinous aids and relief, decade after decade. Let me not digress again.

I am the story today, not Africa. I'm a theorized graduate from the University of Benin. My practical demonstration in my field of study is still very much undergraduate. Don't ask me why. In fact "lemme" tell you why. I studied a practical science course in our theory-oriented University. 

Naturally, I tend to be very critical and I try to indulge my mind in the most normal of situation. I have a thing for sociology and somehow I've come to realise I have snobbish tendency. I have come to realise that small talk is an integral part of social nexus and I wonder when I'll stop being part of it. I have a thing for Greek names and unsubtly fascinated by History. Sorry if I have not said some things I ought to have said. Describing myself became harder as I picked up the pen, or less literary, the keyboard.

Let the story begin,

Yours Truly

Izuchukwu Okafor