Prose: Urenna

Urenna stood by the roadside. She was tired as she had been standing for almost four hours. The night was rather slow. She blamed it on the time of the month. It was mid month and the middle of the month was always a bad time for business. Disposable income would have decreased considerably from the end of the previous month. But what did hunger care about such things? Indeed her stomach must be fed first before all else.

A draft of cool night air hit her as she manned her corner. She inhaled cigarette smoke along with the night air. Not so fresh. She hated cigarettes. Nasty, filthy things! But in her line of work she had no choice for the men and women she worked with liked their tobacco. Cigarette smoke reminded her of all that was said to be bad and evil. She had been brought up amid the chaos that was her childhood by a strict catholic, Mr. Ikechukwu, the district catechist superintendent. No, Mr. Ikechukwu was not her father. How she wished that was the case but the catechist was just that, a catechist; who had warned her and her peers about the dangers of alcohol and cigarette smoke when she was younger, not so many years ago. If only he could see her now. Urenna laughed inwardly.

A car appeared from around the corner and Urenna changed position. She stood facing the road, perpendicular to the approaching head lights. This position gave the occupants of the car a profile of her body, her precious asset. Then as the car moved closer, she turned away and gave a view of her backside. At the last moment she turned again, facing the car while bending to greet the occupants giving them a winning smile and a view of her significant chest. The car drove by and slowed down to a stop. Ope o!

Urenna walked briskly to the car – a black Honda – to ward off the other girls. Na me get this one! She said to herself. She got to the car in time.

“Hi!” she said to the front seat passenger.

“Hello!” the men in the car replied.

She took a look into the dimly lit interior of the car with its dashboard and stereo lights offering very little illumination. There were three occupants, the driver, the front seat passenger and another at the back. She hesitated. Inasmuch as she really needed to get customers for the night she was not sure she wanted three men but she waited to hear what they had to offer.

“What’s your name?” Front seat passenger asked.

“Jessica”, Urenna replied with a sweet smile.

“Hmmm...Jessica! That’s a nice name,” front seat passenger said.

Idiot.  If only he knew that half of the girls along the street had christened themselves Jessica!

“Awww, thanks!” she said in her most American-movie-flavoured accent.

The inside of the car smelt nice. In fact it smelt like these men might have some good money.

“So you look very nice,” front seat continued. Urenna flashed a winning smile.

“Oya! How much?” the driver asked impatiently.

“Depends of what you want. Is it all night or short time and for how many of you?”

“If it is more than one person, I am available!” a voice rang out from behind Urenna.

Vultures! Urenna thought. They would not allow someone to progress. She recognised the voice as Blessing’s. Well to be fair to her, Blessing had sometimes involved Urenna in some of her prospects. Urenna had sometimes returned the favour but she needed to be sure of what was going down.

“Erm, how much is all night?” driver enquired.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Erm, Ikoyi.” Driver responded.

Hmmm....these Ikoyi boys! They may have money but were not to be trusted and were quite stingy too! She paused and then asked them to put on their inner light.

“What for?” driver asked.

“So I can see your faces na! How do you expect me to get into a car with three men I don’t know?”

Driver and front passenger consulted each other briefly and turned on the car’s inner lights.

Mscheeeew! Urenna cursed loudly. These were not men but small boys barely out of their teens! Driver whom she was sure was a Yoruba boy because of his dark skin and looks seemed like the oldest of the lot and he could not have been more than nineteen. The quiet one at the back in glasses she was sure was seventeen or even younger. No way! These boys, children of rich parents sure had money but had no respect for it and quite ironically would want to pay the barest minimum for the services that women like her offered. Mba! No! She recalled what happened to one of the girls who had followed two of these Ikoyi boys in their car and had ended up in a BQ with four waiting boys! Poor girl had had to scream, shout and claw her way out of there! Cheapskates! Instead of them to have been upfront about how many they were, then she would have gone with two other girls at a bargain price. But no, these small boys wanted to have their cake and eat it.

“You are small boys! I don’t do small boys!” Urenna shouted, moving away from the vehicle.

“Ah! What do you mean?!” passenger seat retorted.

“Come first, we will pay you good money!!” driver added.

Urenna laughed. “Blessing o! Come and see the small boys wey wan fuck!”

Blessing moved in for a closer look. She laughed, “These ones neva finish secondary school o! Hahaha! Now run along to your mummies and go return daddy’s car.”

“Mscheeew!! Ashewo!” driver lashed out.

“Ehn thank you! As you get home please call your daddy for me! I will fuck him for free sef!” The ladies laughed as the deflated boys zoomed off to try their luck elsewhere.

“No mind these small boys jor! When you come reach, do finish, dem no go wan pay you complete money. Their wahala too much!” Blessing ended as she walked back into the shadows.

Urenna sighed. She hoped she would get a customer soon. It was getting late and the odds were rising against her. She hoped for a customer that would take her home. Those ones were preferred as she got to sleep in a bed as against standing for long and sleeping on the road or in smelly taxi cabs. She looked at her cheap watch. 2am. Sigh. Even a couple of short-time customers would make sense now. She waited impatiently.

A jeep cruised by ever so slowly. She took position and waited for it to stop. It drove slowly as the occupant eyed the ladies of the night, taking them in.

“Oga stop now!” Urenna called.

The driver did not stop but zoomed off. Alu! She cursed.

She waited a few more minutes and was just about to resign her fate to an unsuccessful night when a car appeared. It was a Toyota Camry, one of the new ones; very sleek, very shiny in the poor street light. She hoped it was not a driver because these drivers were funny. They were not so much better than her but they tried to appear better off. But not all drivers though, some were nice and kind like that Tony. He had been very nice to her, sometimes just visiting her without wanting to have sex. They would gist for a couple of minutes before she would chase him away for scaring away potential customers. She had even given him a couple of free rounds. She liked Tony; small sha. And she missed him. His oga had been transferred to Abuja and she had not seen him in months.

The Toyota stopped right in front of her. The driver rolled the window down and the cool air from the air conditioning hit her face.

“Hi!” Urenna said, turning on the charm.

“Good evening” the driver responded.

They conversed for about a minute and Urenna said her goodbyes to Blessing and got into the car. She thanked her stars as the sleek car pulled away. She would definitely sleep on a warm soft bed tonight; and if she did well she would probably get a performance bonus in the morning. Her customer did not look like or sound like the stingy type. In fact he looked “safe”. She thanked her stars again and crossed herself as the car picked up speed and headed towards Lekki.

Finally!! - A Review of The Figurine.

Last weekend I watched the Kunle Afolayan thriller The Figurine and I must say that I am glad that I did. Those of you who know me well, know that I do not suffer Nollywood productions gladly. It takes a whole lot for me to sit through the first ten minutes of any Nollywood fare, because ten minutes is what I need to evaluate the film. However, I sometimes sit for longer if the film comes with a great recommendation by one whose opinions I respect or if the first ten minutes show some promise. With The Figurine it was a combination of the two. An added push was the marketing and publicity that followed the film’s release in 2009. So I decided to wait until it came out in DVD. I waited o for over two years, no luck; I then discovered that the distribution structure in place restricted the film’s DVD production, a move to forestall the activities of pirates.

However, I was lucky enough to view The Figurine as it hit cable TV on DStv. So it was with great anticipation that I watched The Figurine. 

First and foremost I must commend producer and director Mr. Afolayan who also starred in the joint lead role in The Figurine for a brilliant translation of Kemi Adesoye’s script. I say this because many a good script has been poorly executed by directors and producers. Excellent storytelling lies in carrying the audience along through the use of the right film techniques and tools. Right from the opening scenes, the cinematography of The Figurine impresses the viewer as something not readily seen in Nigerian films. With realistic sets (I now more than ever want a beach house!) and scenes, the accompanying visual effects were simple and very believable. Although the sound quality dropped at times during the film you get the distinct impression that Mr. Afolayan is aiming for a level of professionalism that leaves a lot of his other colleagues in the dust. The pacing is subtle, leading the viewer into an understanding of what is about to evolve in the scene. There is definitely no overacting!! One could be tempted to say that the acting was stilted but I believe this was deliberate. Indeed the cast is disciplined enough to leave out all the over-the-top acting, shouting, fake accents and face contortions that are all too familiar with Nollywood. I was particularly impressed by Funlola Aofiyebi-Raimi’s acting as it was the first time I had seen her not overact! The screaming, eye rolling and “British” accent were pegged to a bare minimum.

Femi played brilliantly by Ramsey Nouah (despite the hideous wig) shows how bitterness and a sense of entitlement can insidiously eat away at a man over time. His sudden malevolence at the end of the film was quite a shocker and a huge contrast to the earlier picture of Femi as portrayed. Mr. Nouah I believe would play the role of a psycho quite convincingly. Mr. Afolayan’s bad boy/man Shola effectively reminded me of those school/classmates who were the so called "bad boys". Methinks he probably was one when he was younger. The Figurine also features veteran actor and artist, Muraina Oyelami as the culturally knowledgeable head of department. Omoni Oboli plays Mona, the girlfriend and later wife of Shola quite well, expressing the right amounts of emotion. Tosin Sido is a delight to watch as she plays Lara, Femi’s younger sister with a kind of vulnerability that her role demands. You take notice of her on a screen full of veterans. Speaking of veterans, can Jide Kosoko please stop acting the role of “chairman of the board”?!

But really, with respect to the characters, there is an absence of real development as the audience is left to fill in many gaps as to their true personalities. We are treated to a passing slice of their lives without getting really involved with them and their three-dimensionality. For instance, we know that Shola is a bad boy but just how bad we never really know. Mona herself loves Shola over Femi but again we never really know why and likewise Femi’s love for Mona is never fully delved into. Again, perhaps this was deliberate to make the twist impactful.  

In the end, much praise must be given to writer Kemi Adesoye, whose script and excellent twist at the end makes The Figurine a memorable film. The story is able to effectively blend traditional folklore, cultural systems and beliefs against a modern Nigeria backdrop. It could so easily have become a spiritual affair but Kemi ensures that it is one for the rational thinker with endless debates as to whether the curse was real or imagined. Yes, The Figurine is definitely one for the ages.

So kudos to Mr. Kunle Afolayan and his team for giving us a Nigerian film we can finally be proud of. The Figurine is definitely in my top five Nollywood films of all time.

PS: According to Wikipedia, The Figurine cost N50mm to make and he film received 10 nominations and won 5 awards at the African Movie Academy Awards in 2010, including the awards for Best Picture, Heart of Africa, AMAA Achievement in Cinematography and AMAA Achievement in Visual Effect.

Crash and Burn! My Review of Flight

Oh wow! Wow! Those were the words in my head as I watched veteran film maker Robert Zemeckis’ Flight. Flight starring two time Academy Award winner Denzel Washington, tells the story of Captain William "Whip" Whitaker, an alcoholic and recreational druggie, who successfully crash lands a passenger jet while under the influence of drugs and booze. Whip saves 96 out of the 102 passengers and crew members on board. Unfortunately, one of the dead is his flight attendant and occasional girlfriend, Katerina Marquez (Nadine Velasquez), who had been out partying with him the previous night.

The film follows the subsequent investigation into the remote and immediate causes of the plane crash and the heroics of Whip Whitaker whose unconventional method of flying the plane upside brought it out of its nose dive; a move which undoubtedly saved the 96 lives. Hired by the airline to control the situation are Charlie Anderson (Bruce Greenwood) an old friend of Whip’s, and lawyer Hugh Lang (Don Cheadle). This is a tough task as the toxicology report on Whip shows that he was intoxicated at the point of the crash. However, Hugh uses his skills to quash the report and assures that it would not see the light of day. With a hearing by the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) a few days away, he approaches his co-pilot for the day Ken Evans (Brian Geraghty) and regular attendant on his flights, Margaret Thomason (Tamara Tunie) and coerces them to testify that that the SouthJet flight 227 was just like “any ordinary day”. They agree.

Whip retreats from the spotlight and befriends Nicole (Kelly Reilly) an addict he meets at the hospital. Now while they try to draw strength from each other on the road to the recovery, Whip slips back into his ways as he finds it hard to deal with the attention, the pressure from the media, his lawyers, the airline and his ex-wife’s refusal to let him see his son. Before long, Nicole abandons him telling him that his refusal to get better is not good for her own recovery. He hits rock bottom and has to move in with Charlie so as to stay clean into the hearing. However, the night before the hearing, having been checked into a locked and mini-bar-free hotel room, he takes advantage of an unlocked door to an adjoining room and proceeds to empty its mini-bar. The next morning Charlie and Hugh are furious when they find him drunk with the hearing an hour away. Harling Mays drug dealer and friend of Whip’s, played by John Goodman is called in. He brings some cocaine which straightens Whip out in time for the hearing.

At the hearing he scales through all the questions asked by lead investigator Ellen Block (Melissa Leo). It is revealed that the plane crash was caused by a mechanical malfunction. Whip is in fact praised for his heroics echoing the sentiments of the media. Ms. Block asks a final question as to the presence of two empty bottles of vodka found in the crashed plane. The presence of the bottles is contentious as Whip had ordered that drinks not be served during the flight due to turbulence. And since Katerina’s report was the only one that showed alcohol in her bloodstream, Ms. Block asks Whip if he thinks Katerina may have been intoxicated at the time of the crash. Whip replies in the negative admitting that he was the one that drank the vodka (which was true), that he was intoxicated at the time of the crash and that he was currently intoxicated. The hearing erupts with an angered Hugh and Charlie. Whip gets convicted of manslaughter and serves a five year sentence.

Phew! I just had to write that long plot synopsis to sort of help put the rest of the review in perspective. Flight is one powerful film, one that would have been talked about for days if it had come out in the 80s or 90s - a classic. But in today’s film terrain is it so easy for a film like Flight to get lost in the crowd. Acting was very good all around. There was no over-acting as the STORY was the star of the film. However, Denzel Washington’s performance was painfully convincing bearing in mind that we could only see the outsides of who the man Whip was. Can anyone really adequately evince the internal conflict that Whip was going through? I sense this was deliberate by director Zemeckis (Back to the Future I-III, Forrest Gump, Cast Away, Beowulf, A Christmas Carol) and writer John Gatlins (Coach Carter, Real Steel).

A hero to many, a damaged person to himself and those who knew him, Whip Whitaker was a bit of an anti-hero. I found myself not caring whether or not he was drunk, crunk or freaking asleep!  He did save 96 lives! He saved 96 lives when everyone could have died! The mechanical fault was not his, he was in control and he executed a move he probably would not have thought of had he been sober. This was confirmed when simulations of his flying the plane upside down by other pilots all ended in crashes.

But the truth was that Whip was an addict; the kind of drunk and junkie that laymen would not recognize  his type required a trained eye. Whip was also a survivor: he had survived his childhood, his failed marriage and was trying to survive his condition when the plane crashed. Heck he was even trying to survive the investigation! But he was doing that in the wrong place. The scene where he goes around the farm house removing stashes of beer and bottles of alcohol had me with my mouth open. Dude was an alcoholic! Booze was within easy reach in EVERY room of the house!

Whip was shown sometimes winning the fight against his addiction but always eventually giving in to it. Even Nicole’s presence could not help him as he threatened to drag her down too. The hotel room scene where he opens the mini-bar and sees what could best be described as a “drunkard’s heaven” was classic. He opens the mini-bar, and slowly takes in its contents. He picks up and fingers a miniature bottle of vodka, opens it and inhales the all too familiar essence. With each movement taking him a step closer to yielding into temptation, he seems to finally win the battle by screwing the cap on tight and placing the bottle on the closed table top and walking away. The optimists among us are all about to cheer but alas, in a brilliant twist he reaches out to grab the bottle. Even the cynics are a little sad.

Consequently, Flight is a story about addiction and what is sometimes required to end it – a big ass stage! For Whip he had coasted on a drug and alcoholic wave and would have coasted into the books as a hero but just at the last minute, just as he could have put the issue behind him forever, he spills his guts. What is remarkable is that he could have done it privately, in rehab or even at Nicole’s AA meeting where no one would have judged him. But at the risk of tarnishing a defenceless Katerina’s memory, he instead chose to spill at the one place where everyone was sure to hear. Ms. Block gave him two outs and he opted for the significantly more painful one, but one that would save him. He must have feared that if he missed this chance to repent, he would not have gotten another. Flight shows us that sorting ourselves out is most times a very painful process; we have to be willing to fight our very nature or the person that we have become. We can lie to everyone, gloss over our lives but in the end we cannot really lie to ourselves.

I liked Flight a lot. It was a good story where you do not know whether to root for Denzel Washington’s Whip or not. In the end you seat back and hope that the right thing is done. In the end, it is.

I Am Tired Jor!

Right now I am so depressed, so sad, so angry but most of all I am weak, so weak I just want to lie down and hibernate. With each passing day I find that every single thing I was taught as a child by my parents, my priests, my teachers, my elders has been for naught. Not lies but truths that have no place in this entity called Nigeria. A nation where corruption and evil go unpunished; even worse they go rewarded.

Since the days of Tafa Balogun, it has become a proven scam: steal a few billions from state coffers, (not millions, for a few millions are not enough to keep you out of jail) when caught, plead guilty and save the state (i.e. the police/EFCC, and judiciary) the cost of an expensive and lengthy trial while making them look good at their jobs. Give assurances of full cooperation and willingly return say 20 per cent of the loot in cash and another 20 per cent in property, then spread say 10 per cent among those who might ask for a cut and you get a nine months to 2 years sentence at a not-so-bad prison where you would reign as the “president” and are sure to be out after seven months; OR if you are lucky you get the option of fine with no time served. After that long sentence and all is said and done you could easily walk away with 10 billion neat. I swear someone should sign me up for this scam for that is what it is!

“Come Danladi, you know that NIPOST pension money?”

“You mean the N500bn?”

“Yes, you as the chief finance officer have access to it, is this not so?”

“Yes and so?”

“Ok this is what we are going to do; you will use your office to steal...

....then when you are released you pocket a cool N25bn while you give us N25bn...don’t mind Nigerians, they have short memories, they will soon invite you to be the state chairman of the party, give you a chieftaincy title and the pastors will make you a deacon sef....”

“Ok, I am in!”

It really is that simple! Corruption thrives simply because we reward it. Instead of punishing the looters we slap them on the wrists and embrace them when they are released. Who says (big) crime does not pay? I say “we” because “we” are the ones who write the laws or have refused or simply do not understand that “we” are not excluded from lawmaking. This is why I have trouble with democracy and Africans, for we do not fully comprehend what democracy is all about! It is about using our numbers to push for, lobby and demand certain “goods” rights as citizens of a nation! If we all understood the concept of democracy which strives to achieve that “common good” for all, we would not stand for these evils pervading our land. Or perhaps it is a twisted version of democracy that has made us the way we are – a bunch of silent aiders and abetters.

I suspect the real reason why we have not as a mass body fought corruption to a standstill is that deep deep down inside, we are all waiting for our turn at the dinner table of power where we will have a go at the national cake! We swallow and turn a blind eye to grave injustices and romanticising of theft and robbery, not saying a word, giving excuses and blindly attacking the few that have the courage to speak up all because we anticipate the day when it is our turn to “chop”; and when that day comes may God punish the devil that tries to truncate our time at the table!!!

What am I saying? The young Nigerian has watched how corruption has made a number of Nigerians wealthy beyond their wildest dreams in a seemingly “turn by turn” system. In the 80s and 90s it was the Northerners and Westerners, now in this new administration it is the turn of the South-South so by simple reasoning and hope and if “zoning” works out in the next elections it will be the turn of my father’s brother’s in-law’s wife’s second cousin who is an ACN big-wig!! Ope o! Again, may Amadioha silence the mouths of those who rise up to condemn him and us!!

The most interesting journey I ever  undertook in this country was about five years ago in a 12-seater bus from Lagos to Benin with Nigerians from across different ages, gender and tribes. We had quite a few interesting discussions during the journey as a road trip that used to take three hours flat, now took almost five. The one that stood out for me was the one on corruption. Oh it was a volatile one! Passengers were seething with righteous anger and all calling for the Jerry Rawlings treatment for those who deserved it!! But one lady said something which cooled the flames. She said that we should be careful for what we ask for, that if indeed this Rawlings treatment is meted out who would survive? Some beat their chests and said that they were clean. To this she retorted, “You can vouch for yourself, but can you vouch for that your uncle who is in NPA? Or your in-law that is a state CP? Or that elder in your church who donated N10million towards the new church building?! Or that your old classmate who gave you that juicy contract that you lobbied for? Behold if the Rawlings treatment starts, it may come to your doorstep!!” She went further, “Okay, if you were the head of recruitment at a company or a government agency and you were down to two gifted candidates who were vying for a single opening, would you give it to the better of the two or the one that was related to your spouse’s uncle or from your village?” At this quite a few people fell silent. Only one lady was able to say that she would give it to the better candidate. To this someone laughed and said “Then your husband’s people will carry your name to church for prayers!”  

These are the reasons why we remain bedroom and siddon-look activists. If you want to fight evil, you give no quarter, and you fight without fear!! For should you hesitate, it will consume you leaving you worse of than you were before.

Like one of my former facilitators would say: “I do not intend to pontificate but to illuminate.” I am not perfect but I strive towards perfection. So my brothers and sisters let us take our nation back! Back to the days when our parents ate half a chicken in the refectory at the universities, when salaries were paid on time, when pensions were not stolen, when men of God worshiped God and not mammon, when religion did not supercede common sense and intelligence,  when a Super Eagles match was a time for collective pride and not ridicule, when policemen wore the uniform with pride, when our leaders spoke the truth in service and not lies in dishonesty, when we endorsed brilliance and industry not mediocrity and sloth, and when being a Nigerian meant something good.

Sigh....I am tired jor.

The D is Silent: A Review of Django Unchained

Late 2011 when I heard that a Quentin Tarantino “remake” of Django was in the works I was not too happy. Why was I sceptical? Simply put I was afraid Tarantino would taint the iconic character that Django was to me. I had the pleasure of watching the two original Sergio Corbucci Django films starring Franco Nero as a kid – Django (1966), Django Strikes Back (1987), cult classics like so many other spaghetti westerns. What would Tarantino do I wondered? His rehash of Enzo Castellari’s Inglorious Bastards (1978) to Inglourious Basterds (2009) was fresh in my mind and while the latter was a fabulous remake of the original I just could not get my head around the fact that the movie revolved around a black slave! C’mon! Tarantino that is taking things too far! I screamed in my mind. But reading the screenplay and watching the film changed it all.

Tarantino’s Django Unchained tells its own story although he borrows the name “Django” and the revenge plot of the earlier films. So in other words Django Unchained is very much its own film. However, Tarantino turns a genre on its head where he features the avenging cavalier as a black ex-slave who goes about legally killing white folks who have done him wrong! I guess this is the kind of effrontery that has made Tarantino the director that he is.

Jamie Foxx shows up in the way only he can as he brings this remixed Django to the big screen. He plays his role quite effectively without any over the top acting. Initially he portrays a black slave just going along with the plans of his new master - a crazy white dentist-turned-bounty-hunter who is obviously “not from around these parts”. But as he becomes an equal partner he grows into his own man, a man who having removed the shackles of slavery wants his wife back and will kill as many men (white or black) in order to achieve his aim. Or is this all an act? Perhaps he only played the characters of angry, former slave/bounty hunter/One-eyed Charlie a little too well? You slowly realize that a black man born into slavery and only recently set free would have to put on a different persona from the one he is used to in order to survive his new found freedom and to fulfill his quest.

Dr. King Schultz played by Christoph Waltz was at his insidious best. The irony that a German doctor gives a black slave his freedom and helps him on his mission to rescue his lost slave wife in 19^th century America is not lost. Waltz portrays the foreign-dentist-turned-bounty-hunter with aplomb almost equal to but yet a  mirror image of his performance in Inglourious Basterds. He is once again sublime in his delivery and acting.

Leonardo DiCaprio as Calvin J. Candie gave a good performance as is with DiCaprio’s acting. Kerry Washington effectively played the damsel in distress. 

Now, Samuel L. Jackson’s Stephen was vintage Samuel L. Jackson! He played the part to a T so much so that a colleague remarked that he should not have gotten paid for the role!! I quite agree. Stephen’s loud talking, foul-mouthed, condescending Uncle Tom was just right. Seeing Jonah Hill had me in stitches his appearance was hilarious for some reason but he played his part well.

It was a great pleasure to see the original Django, Franco Nero in a cameo. The scene which was not in the original screenplay where he talks to Jamie’s Django asking if he could spell his name brought tears to my eyes. In that instant I forgave Quentin.

The film’s score and music was mad!!!! Right from the opening credits we are greeted with frequent Tarantino collaborator, prolific film scorer including numerous spaghetti westerns, and Academy Award winner Luis Bacalov’s “Django” which takes one back to when spaghetti westerns ruled the screens. The humorous “His Name Was King” reminds us that this is all just entertainment but Rick Ross’ anachronistic “100 Black Coffins” and the dialogue by Django and Billy Crash (Walton Goggins) leading to it was definitely one of the high points of Django Unchained; to say it was apt would be an understatement.

Filled with quite a few controversial themes and discussion points that could take days to discuss, in the end Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained is almost a hyperbole. Despite the usual generous helping of blood and guts we have come to associate with Tarantino's films, Django Unchained applies just the right amount of fantasy.  Indeed, all the characters are acting, some living a fantasy, some striving for one: from wanted outlaw Willard Peck who takes on the role of Sheriff Bill Sharp, to Django a slave who plays a free man, and to the house n***er Stephen who kowtows before his master when in character and then sits in his master's chair, sips his brandy and talks to him as an equal when out of character, Django Unchained (apologies to Spike Lee) is simply just a fantasy – what every damn good film should be. 

Why the Negro/African/Black Man/Nigerian is the Way He Is (Thoroughly Random Musings!)

I have often taken time out to try to understand why the black race or Negroes or Africans or Nigerians or what-you-will are the way we are. I mean we’re so backward while the rest of the world, even Asia, is far far ahead of us. I have had cause to almost regret being born African in this Dark Continent/Country where the ‘light’ refuses to ‘shine’. I’ve lived twenty nine long years in this country and in that period we have not been able to have uninterrupted power supply, potable water, smooth roads, etc.

I watched the Obama inauguration and marvelled at that nation called the United States of America. I watched the closing ceremony of the Beijing Olympic Games in 2008 and was tripped by the performance of the Chinese, a race of people we Nigerians mock but still a nation using its great population to make themselves relevant! So much so that they have now become a threat to the existing super power clique of economically-superior nations. A few years ago, Nigeria and Singapore were both termed ‘third world nations’…. Oops my bad! I meant to write ‘developing nations’. A few years later Singapore is now categorised as a ‘Developed Nation’, with Singapore Airlines winning best airline in the world twice in a row! I also understand that oil was discovered in Nigeria and the UAE around the same time… today Dubai is a tourist haven, an expanse of sand turned into paradise on earth. Nigeria? Go figure.

There’s a book “Capitalist Nigger: The Road to Success, a Spider-Web Doctrine" written by a Nigerian, Dr. Chika Onyeani which tries to educate the black man for the need to change his ways of thinking, his ways of seeing and doing things. Dr. Onyeani mentions "Blacks are economic slaves because they lack the "killer-instinct" and "devil-may-care" attitude of the Caucasian, as well as the "spider web economic mentality" of the Asian." The black man is said to be innately naïve – another word for ‘fool’; thinking that everyone has his best interests at heart being ready and able to dish out aid just because we are our brothers’ keepers!

For years the Negro has tried to live down claims of inferiority to these other races with some success – mainly in sports, music and entertainment in general. Whites and Asians do not have two heads, do they? So why are we at the bottom of the developmental ladder? A continent always on the look-out for international aid? A continent unable to carry out free and fair elections? A continent ravaged by war, disease and hunger? A continent whose people flee in droves in search of a better life? What has the black man achieved or contributed to the world? But that’s not the question I attempt to answer in this uneducated write-up. No, I seek to postulate two reasons as to why we are so underdeveloped socially, intellectually, culturally, financially, technologically, etc.

The Curse.

Personally, I believe that our problems as to why we are the way we are can be traced to the beginning of the Bible. Yes, the Bible. In Genesis Chapter 9 the story is told of Noah and his sons after the deluge. We are told that only Noah, his three sons - Shem, Ham and Japheth - and their wives were spared by God during his destruction of mankind. Now post-deluge, Noah plants a vineyard and upon harvest makes wine (probably the first distillery!) proceeds to drink his fill and promptly gets drunk ending up naked in his tent. Ham one of his sons happens along and spots his naked father in his stupor and laughs at the old man’s nakedness. To make matters worse he goes off to find his brothers to ‘tatafo’ to them. Shem and Japheth do not see anything funny and leave their disrespectful brother to tend to their father. The Bible says they took a sheet between themselves and walked backward so as to avoid seeing their father’s nakedness and covered him up. They probably cleaned him up too!

Waking up with a blinding hangover, Noah is told the events following his drinking binge and immediately dispatches curses and blessings among his sons. No points for guessing who got cursed! The Bible says in Genesis 9 v 24-27 in the New Century Version:

24 Noah was sleeping because of the wine. When he woke up and learned what his youngest son, Ham, had done to him,25 he said,
"May there be a curse on Canaan!
May he be the lowest slave to his brothers."
26 Noah also said,
"May the LORD, the God of Shem, be praised!
May Canaan be Shem's slave.
27 May God give more land to Japheth.
May Japheth live in Shem's tents,
and may Canaan be their slave."

And so in this way, Noah effectively cursed his son Ham for dishonouring him. Now guess what? The black man, the Negro or ‘Cush’ as written in the Bible is a descendant of Ham! Read your Bible it’s there in Genesis. Now gbam! Therein lies the cause of our congenital problem of underdevelopment! We were cursed due to an offence committed by our fore-father. Which race became the slaves of the white man ‘Japheth’ and his Asian brother ‘Shem’? (Abeg, make una no condemn me for this o! LOL). Yes, I admit that the link is a bit tenuous but the Bible does not lie! Or how else do you want to explain the reason we are the way we are and where we are? I invite you to try.

Living the Life of Riley in a Non-Hostile Environment.

This alternative reason as to why the black man is so laid back in his thinking and development was actually postulated by my boss (Dr. M. Nzeribe) following a discussion on the remote and direct reasons for our lack of self reliance. My boss likes to talk but his explanation was surprisingly short so I had the job of building on his premise.

Blacks as situated on the African continent have never had it so good. Relative to the hostile climate of Europe, Asia, Antarctica, Australia and the Americas ours is quite literally a stroll in the sun (pun intended!) He says that due to our clement weather the African never really felt challenged by his environment. The tropics were just ideal. It lacked the fierce colds of the temperate regions like Russia; the flood prone lands of south-east Asia; the biting heat of the desert day and the freezing cold of the desert night. In short, shelter and clothing were not a problem. He could live in trees like the apes and go about in a loin cloth without a care in the world.

Transportation? No problem, as a three day stroll to the next major market would not kill him as the sun was friendly. Besides, he did not have horses so the idea of inventing the wheel did not occur to him, why should it? The white man had to think of ways to get to his destination faster because if he stayed out longer than necessary the elements would get him!

Food. The African had it good, with fertile soils, ample rains and good old tropical sun, he didn’t have to stretch himself to plant and harvest. The food simply grew and he simply harvested. Barns and storage sheds if any were basic as there was no need to construct elaborate structures to store grain.

Technology. Wetin concern tortoise with 5-bedroom mansion? There was simply no need for tools other than those used to hunt and gather. I still stifle a laugh whenever I read or remember that our fore-fathers sold their brothers as slaves for mere trifles like mirrors, glass, marbles, guns (without gunpowder), etc.

There were no real challenges that the African had to overcome; life was good as the gods had been good to him. And this he acknowledged by ‘blindly’ worshipping different gods. If one was sick, it meant that the gods needed to be appeased. No rain? Appease a different god. No children? Appease the god of fertility. Plague, pestilence or pillaging marauders? Appease the gods. So nothing was developed as the man refused to think for himself as everything that could go wrong was out of his hands, the gods were to blame! (Er, I think I’m just about guilty of this same attitude to our problems as explored in the first part of this write-up! Sheesh, talk about the apple not falling far from the tree!)

Meanwhile, the other races on the planet were fighting earthquakes so they built stronger houses; were fighting cold so they discovered ways to heat their homes; were fighting darkness so they developed electricity; were fighting disease and death so they discovered advanced medicine and drugs; were fighting oppression and conquest so they invented diplomacy and weapons (of mass destruction?); were fighting delays so they invented fast cars and airplanes; were fighting boredom so they went to the moon, invented the television, the radio, cinema and Facebook!

I ask again what has the African invented? Nothing, so "We've become a sheep-like consumer race that depends on other communities for our culture, language, feeding, and clothing. We've become economic slaves in Western (and now Eastern) society,” (quoting the good Dr Onyeani again!)

So where do we go from here and what might be the solution to our underdevelopment?

I haven’t the faintest idea (or maybe I’m just too damn lazy to think about it? : ) )


Copyright 2009 TJ O'karo

Why My Pastor Needs a Private Jet

Church: Halleluyah!!!!!!!!!

Brother: Actually I will be talking on the topic, "Why my pastor needs a Private Jet." I believe you have not exhausted your daily quotas of 'Amen' because you'll need to say 'Amen' repeatedly as we go along.

Children of God, it is time for global revival! The church in Nigeria is to carry this end-time message around the world and she needs tools! My Pastor needs a private jet to spread the gospel with teaching appointments in many countries and this work is far too important to be left to airline schedules.

You see, my Pastor needs a private jet to spread the gospel to (“Catholic”) Italy. Italy ranks 1st globally in Maternal Mortality. Just 4 women die in Italy in 100,000 births in a whole year. In Nigeria, about 50,000 women die due to Childbirth annually. In fact, Nigeria is 2nd globally with the highest maternal mortality rate and contributes 10 per cent to the world’s total maternal deaths. My Pastor needs a private jet from members without health care to go and teach the Italians how to live in health and deliver safely.

My Pastor needs a private jet to spread the gospel to (“liberal”) America. America ranks first in GDP globally, whilst Nigeria ranks 43rd through oil exports. My pastor needs a private jet from members who produce nothing to go teach hard work to the Americans.

My Pastor needs a private jet to spread the gospel to (“permissive”) Sweden. Sweden was top 3 in the last Corruption Index whilst Nigeria ranked 143 out of 182 countries. My pastor needs a private jet gotten from the proceeds of corruption to go and teach the Swedes how to be righteous.

My Pastor needs a private jet to spread the gospel to (“immoral”) Brazil. Brazil ranks 2nd globally in actualizing development goals whilst Nigeria ranks 90 out of 133 in making development progress. My pastor needs a private jet from a stagnant people to go teach Brazilians how to move forward.

My Pastor needs a private jet to spread the gospel to (“Shinto”) Japan. Japan ranks 2nd globally in life expectancy whilst Nigeria ranks 185 out of 202. My pastor needs a private jet from people who die needlessly, daily and before their time, to go pray for the Japanese to live long.

My Pastor needs a private jet to spread the gospel to (“communist”) North Korea. North Korea ranked 1st in Adult Literacy globally whilst Nigeria ranked 129th! My pastor needs a private jet from an illiterate congregation to go impart knowledge to the Koreans. (Cuba 2nd)

My Pastor needs a private jet to spread the gospel to (“atheist”) China. China ranks 1st in the world in High Tech Exports, whilst Nigeria ranks 90th. My pastor needs a private jet from members who work in Chinese companies to go teach the Chinese how to be productive.

My Pastor needs a private jet to spread the gospel to (“unchristian”) Israel. Israel has the world’s most developed R&D sector, whilst Nigeria ranks 90th globally in Research. My pastor needs a private jet from members who discover and develop nothing to go teach the Israelis divine inspiration

My Pastor needs a private jet to spread the gospel to (“Buddhist”) Thailand. Thailand has an unemployment rate of less than 1% of its population, whilst in Nigeria it’s as high as 40%. My pastor needs a private jet from a jobless congregation to go teach the Thais how to be gainfully employed.


Yes, my pastor needs a private jet, to take to the world what he has been unable to accomplish at home

(Look at my life, look your life, na who e clear say dey serve God? If we apply that philosophy here, all pastors will sit at home and pray for Nigeria which indeed is in dire straits. You cannot take coal to Newcastle, nor Sugar Cane to Brazil nor Christ to the very people that gave him to us).

Author unknown.