All posts tagged: Politics

We Should All Be Mad

Published by Osemhen

What are you mad about? When I was younger, I was taught/told that all I had to do was get good marks, pass my exams and graduate with a good degree. I’d have a job, and with it financial security and independence. The lines would fall in all the right places. And they did. For some people. Some are lucky to have jobs when they graduate. But for the majority, there are no jobs. Not because they’re unqualified, not because they’re incompetent. No. Sheer (bad?) luck. A tragic game of musical chairs and I am mad, so mad that my family and friends are unemployed or underemployed and there doesn’t seem to be a light at the end of the tunnel. What are you mad about? My friend’s mother died earlier this year because she couldn’t get emergency dialysis done in the middle of the night. Another friend slumped while jogging. Government hospitals ask expectant mothers to come for delivery with candles, diesel, rechargeable flash lights. Women die in childbirth of the most routine causes. Babies …

The Oba's Word

Published by Osemhen

Disclaimer: This post does not aim to preempt the gubernatorial election results in any state, in any way. Fiction. Strictly fiction, albeit inspired by real events. The deed had been done. Despite all the Oba’s warnings, the Igbo (aided and abetted by other Yorubas the Urhobos, Ibibio, Bini, Esan, Kalabari, Hausas, Idoma etc.) had voted overwhelmingly against his candidate. The Oba was furious. “You must throw them in the lagoon, Kabiyesi. You promised. You are an Oba. You cannot go back on your word.” The Oba wrung his hands in vexation. “But the logistics of it, Asiwaju. Is the Lagoon big enough for over a million people? Is it deep enough? What if they can swim? How do I round them up?” The council fell silent for a bit. The Asiwaju glanced at the Balogun who studiously averted his gaze. He had counseled against this madness. Now look. “We could ask them to file out and make themselves available at the banks of the lagoon. They’re quite honest people. Just make an announcement …

Why The Presidential Elections Don't Matter As Much As You Think

Published by Osemhen

The short answer: because this is a democracy. The long answer: because this is a democracy and not a monarchy and there are multiple arms of government. Let me paint a picture for you, citizens. Let’s take road building and creation. You want good roads. The President does not fix roads. But let’s say he makes that a priority. He selects a minister to head the Ministry of Works and submits this person’s name to the NASS for screening and approval. Simple enough, right? But what if he nominates an incompetent, dishonest person? Well, that’s why your Senate screens and approves. If they let an incompetent person slip through, they have failed you. You should call them out on it. Let’s assume that the minister starts out good and then turns bad later on. They give him a budget and he shares it via dud contracts to his cronies. What happens? Well, your Senate can summon him to defend his job. If investigations prove it, he should be fired, arrested and tried in a …

The Question

Published by Osemhen

(I wrote this at the writing workshop I attended recently. It was inspired by the most intelligent company ever, their intellectual discourse *straight face* and a bus ride :D) They sickened you. You couldn’t explain your visceral recoil at the sight of the IBB posters; your mood soured, your emotions plummeted and you lost your train of thought to a brief desire to kill. It didn’t help that the campaign posters were everywhere. The aftertaste lingered curiously. Why are you angry? – I don’t know. You were not particularly politics-inclined. You had not been old enough to appreciate the evil the Genius had perpetrated. You weren’t zealously patriotic; the country could bloody burn and you would fiddle! Why did you care so much you lost your peace? And why was the fact that it made you lose your peace so upsetting? The Question haunted you as you circled the city on a bus. It fixed itself in your mind as you ate the sugarcane you filched from a farm. It cooed as you conversed with …