Biafra, it's radio and the parable of the man of the abandoned twins fame!

Gosh, I love the radio!
There's something about radio that I find hard to explain.
Maybe it's the anonymity that it allows or at least used to allow.
Hanging on to the words of an imaginary face day in and out, getting if not addicted but at least hooked to the voice; very similar to religion.
Or maybe it's the thrill of of having new and not so new music streaming into your space, bringing excitement into your otherwise dull existence.
It was always radio for me over television.
Coming from the less than heady days of the Federal Radio Corporation of Nigeria(FRCN), where the presenters were as excitable and interested as members of the 'Lord's Chosen Church' at industry night at Quilox night club,

the sudden array of choice on radio from just the gravelly hissing of FRCN's broadcast was indeed God sent.

Turning the knob on the old sound system in the house, starting from RayPower and listening to two middle aged men who appeared to be cruising though a mini mid-life crisis, trying desperately to hang on to the last of their youth like K-cee the Limpopo crooner trying to hang on to his hairline.

We see you bro. We see you!

Ogas Keke and D1 Adeneye (my name is Dayo by the way and it was irritating as hell when everyone assumed that calling you D1 would make your summer and probably put food on your table too) for all their inadequacies, were pioneers and totally made RayPower the standout station of its time.

Then the Americana returnees/ The 'I've never been but I somehow have an American accent' came on board.

Cool FM , Rhythm 93.7 came and revolutionised the scene. They allowed the youth, irrespective of background and affluence have a real feel of urban pop culture.

You'd be hard pressed to find anyone in his/her mid 20's and up who was not addicted to Dan Foster and his goons on the 'Good Morning Nigeria' show.
It was fun and madness all the way with Dan Foster in his prime; before he started chasing Lagos girls and had an opinion on everything.

Dare Alade might seem like a failed/failing/ never gave it his all musician these days but in the good days of Cool Fm, he too was a legend!

Then we had the also-rans; Star Fm(do they still exist?), who gave it their all but just like in life, for every Tuface, there is a Black Face and for every Ramsey Nouah, there's a Hanks Anuku!

Your prayer as I attempt to waste five minutes of your life on this blog, is for yours to be a life of change.
Somebody loud the Amen!
Say it loud with your hands doing 'Shoki' and waving it about like you just don't care!

Errrrmmmmm... sorry I got carried away there. Just re-enacting what a friend of a friend's friend claimed he heard in church the other day.

Anyway, back to the meat of the matter.
Just about the same period when radio was reforming in Lagos, folks in Rwanda were also having  a taste of their own radio revolution.

In June 1993, the Radio Television Libres des Milles Collines(RTLMCS)  began broadcast in Rwanda.
It was rowdy and used street language.
The aim was to appeal to the unemployed, the delinquents and a large forming mass of a disgruntled population.
The station spewed hate and venom and quickly had a huge following.
The world laughed it off and said free speech should not be compromised.
The result, as they say, is history.
Rwanda went on to witness arguably the largest form of genocide in Africa.
Radio Televison Libres des Milles Collines had a big part to play in that.

The same appears to be happening in the East of Nigeria.
A skinny, bookish-looking and frankly unremarkable man, hiding away in the cozy brick houses of the United Kingdom is doing Same with Radio Biafra.

Free speech and a right of pursuit of equity should indeed never be contested but neither should inciting violence.

And he appears to be amassing a following.
Young ones on Twitter who have never had their Indomie and egg dinners and occasional success at 'Setting P' interrupted appear to be ignorantly following.

There's nothing heroic or glamorous about war.
Only death and destruction.
It's easy to make the noise and cry before the battle but where would you be if the Kalashnikovs start rattling?

Just ask Mr Emeke Uche (A 'Biafran' man if the 'Director' had his way), who after doing all the acrobatics and Kamasutra styles he must have learnt from hell knows, where he ran to after his wife gave birth to a 3rd set of twins.
A word, as they say, is enough for those who understand.
Wise or otherwise!
P.S: The Flipside of Life is still on the twitter machine @doctorrotcod

Buhari's Nigeria: 99 Problems and a watch ain't one; a fuel queue narrative!

So the thing is, I live in Ibadan now.
It doesn't have the hustle and bustle of Lagos, the beauty of Abuja city centre or the sheer debauchery and steely eyed ashewo-ism of Port-Harcourt but it's a city that still holds its own.

Sure you've heard the the jokes and seen the pictures. Primary School kids in Ibadan, excitable little creatures; skin as black as the night and scalp white from ring worm, going on once in a life time field trips to the local Shoprite.

Mufutau and friends wondering what's going on!

Or the market women, skin bleached to a beautiful shade of red very much like Ughelli palm oil!

Sure, Ibadan has all the things and maybe even worse but we Omo Ibadans(born or adopted), love the town.

Even J.P Clark. a great Ijaw man and hopefully not a relative of the not so great Pa Edwin, described the beauty of Ibadan in his famous poem of the same name.

'Woss!'  In the voice of famous for no obvious reason Nigerian rapper CDQ, if you don't know J.P Clark, just keep reading.
Nigerian education has probably failed you and we are sorry!

Anyway, as had become customary for me on Sundays when I don't have to be at work and ultimately church, I take a drive round the town.
Mostly through parts of Ibadan where the roads are as smooth and the houses as beautiful as any good neighbourhood in Lagos and more importantly, where the motor touts and meat market boys won't in the  words of the street 'use me to catch trips'.

This Sunday was different though!
This was no leisurely drive.
This was in fact a drive for ultimate survival!

Fuel tank on empty, A.C knob on off and sweat dripping from forehead like Patience JOE getting used to the Otuoke sunlight again, I slowly drove to the nearest petrol station.

My word!
The queue that had formed before my arrival was a beauty.
A real sight to behold!
How the cars formed an orderly queue on a full kilometer and half of a crescent shaped road and then topped it off with a full circle at the round-about without obstructing traffic is something I would marvel at till the day I pass!

S

Anyhoo, I being neither T.Y Bello (Aunty photographer) or T.Y Danjumao(Oga oil bloc owner), the inherent money making appeal of the queue was lost on me and I made my way up the line to, in typical Nigerian fashion, subvert the orderliness.

Straight faced and with brow furrowed, Don Jazzy and the Mavin's 'Looku Looku' wafting through my car speakers, I edged my car into a newly formed space ahead of a man who from his loud snores had probably spent the night on the queue.

'Looku-Looku, prayer is the master key' crooned Korede Bello from the speakers.

Cries of 'Eskis Sir, Eskis Sir!' rent the air as the expected barrage of insults against my person began.

An elderly gentleman, white haired and resplendent in his gray lace was the first to approach me physically.
'I ham very disappointed in you sir' he began, wagging his index finger at me like you would at a goat trying to eat your lunch.
' A fine looking boy like yourself from a good haouse should act better in public. People like you ha the problem with Nigeria!' he continued.

Normally, I wouldn't reply an elderly person in an aggressive tone but I don't know if it was a combination of his strong H- factor hitting my ear drums like a Konga or the fact that I  had just been accused of been the problem with Nigeria.

Me! Problem with Nigeria! Nigeria!!! Haba!!!

'Sir, with all respect, Nigeria's problems are without any doubt in my mind, the following'
1) Insecurity
2)No electricity
3)Poverty
4)Petroleum products distribution
I, Sir, I'm just a Nigerian looking for fuel for my generators!' I answered.

'E ri oju e! See his face! Wo bo se jo inoki! Gorrilla!' ranted a dark skinned middle aged woman; so obese, you would think she had NNPC's missing 20 billion in her tummy!

'So you don't think that e, as you hav jhump the line, that you hav e do anything wrong ehn! Ehn? she asked.

'Madam, is it me that has been paying Femi Oteshola and Ifeanyi Ubang trillions of Naira to go Yacht racing on Victoria Island? I replied .
'Or is it me that sold off NEPA to every crooked business man with two legs and a signature?'
'Abi it's my blood that Dziani Alice's private jets run on?'
'Madam, I am just a Nigerian looking for petrol for my car. Please if you don't mind, the queue is moving' I ended.

If she were any darker, she would have turned into a bright charcoal red!
'Is me you are abusing abi!' she countered.
'Foolish boy! Is not your fault, when Yoruba children like Femi-Fani Kehinde and Doyin Okugbe made abusing elders a normal something, you are also copying them abi? Is okay oh!'
'Anyway sha, change hav come. Buhari hav come. Change have come to Nigeria and it will not reach your haouse!' she continued.

'What is it Madam!' What is it?'
'Person no fit sleep again?'
'The small boy jump ordinary line, you wan use curse finish am!'
'Na ya Papa line?' shouted the once sleeping man in the car behind mine.

Lo and behold (I'm really tired of making excuses for your poor education, just keep reading) and as God would have it( you're more familiar with that Nigerian line right?), it was Mazi Chuks.
Mazi Chuks just happens to be Mama Nkechi's husband.

Honest and faithful readers of this blog (God bless you by the way. Hopefully Buhari would make someone in your family a Senior Deputy Special Assistant to the P.A of someone important) would be familiar with Mama Nkechi and her bar of Happiness.

 'Mazi Chuks!' I shouted in genuine surprise.
'Oga Surveyor!' he replied excitedly.

'Mazi, what brings you to Ibadan? You're the last person I expected to see today!"

'My brother, na petrol oh. We hear say petrol full Ibadan and as we hear say una nor get motor for this village, I say make I use the last petrol wey I get come Ibadan.' he answered.

'One petrol no dey Lagos! Na serious suffer we dey! Thank God say Buhari don enter sef, things must to better now!' he continued.

Maybe because I knew that Mazi Chuks, his four brothers, their wives, 6 children and four dogs all voted for Goodluck Joe, I couldn't hide my surprise at what I just heard the man say.

'But Mazi, you did not vote for Buhari?' I questioned

'You nor hear when the man say na we all get am! Abi you nor get light that day? My brother,the line don dey move again. Go put fire for ya car make we comot this place!' he answered as he swaggered to his car.

P.s: as far as I can tell, there are no grammatical errors in  this write up. All ' errors' were meant.

Kindly follow the Flipside of life on the twitter machine @doctorrotcod.

Presidential Candidate Ebele Jonathan; when luck is not enough. An Agbo- Jedi narrative!

It was one of those hot sunny afternoons, scalp damp and shirt sticky.
Stuck at a bus-stop and you get the impression that half of Lagos was waiting for the same bus as you.

A thought flickers through your mind, maybe, just maybe, Pastor's ''There's someone here, someone who gives bountiful offerings mind you, who would wake up in a new Bugatti this year'' wasn't directed at you after all.

After mentally calculating all the Building Offering, Workers Offering, Transport Offering, Offering Offerings and pledges in the last two years, you banish the thought from your mind quicker than it took D'Banjs' landlord to allegedly kick him out and focus back on the hundreds of pushing and shoving would be commuters around you.

We all, majority young and tired, jaded looks on our faces but still trying to look all cool and calm.
Swinging imaginary car keys in our fingers to let the next guy in the same faded suit know that ' I have a car oh, I just ain't driving today!'

Our China 'Ray-Bun's', doing two things at the same time like every good China man is taught to; shielding our eyes from the sun and at the same time disguising the aggressive to and fro dart of our eyes as we scan the entire Lagos metropolis for the next bus while rooted to the same spot!

And then it arrives, our Knight in not so shiny yellow and black armour!

Yaaaagaaaaaaa!

''Ojuelegba!''
''Ojuelegba!!''
''Ojuelegba, I no get change, ma wole!''
''Lapping, ma wole!''
''Big yansh, ma wole!''
''Aboki wey carry bag or small girl Aboki, no enter oh!''
''Ojuelegba!'' screamed a big, dark and brawny bus conductor at the top of his voice like a young balding Mariah Carey!

The ensuing struggle was epic!
Though I wasn't there, Martin Luther's liberation struggle probably had nothing on this.
Maybe we should ask @omojuwa, he just might have been there during the Selma march! The boy looks like he has been looking for trouble since the epic Cain and Abel fight!

So yeah, there I was, born and bred in Lagos and just the right opportunity to show it.
Even in these strange times of 'stealing is not corruption', I knew I could still find my way through a ruckus.

So, with  a holy cry of war, right leg outstretched to kick anyone and anything out of my way, I finally found my self on the bus. Tired and sweaty, Gala and LaCasera in hand, I collapsed on my seat!

By the way, please do not ask me when I bought the snacks; if you can't buy Gala while rushing for a bus and at the same time collect your complete 950 change, you're probably the weird one!

Anyway, I barely had time to gather my thoughts and breath when a man stood up at the front.

He was a fine looking gentle man I must add.
All decked out in a brown jacket that must have been all the rage during Awolowo's burial.
He had the worried look of a man who just found out his neighbour's son and 4 friends were visiting from Gwoza!

''Exceede exceede magnum!'' He began.
''Exceede exceede magnum!!''
''Exceede exceede magnum na Latin for 'e big, e big, e big well well!'' He chanted.

''Exceede exceede magnum! This one no be ordinary Agbo-Jedi''
''This one na the Baba of all Agbo-jedi''

'' For those of una wey dey enter this bus everyday, Oga blue shirt for back I greet you this morning, una know wetin I dey talk'' he continued.

''This one na the agbo-jedi wey if ya wife see you dey come from this road, she go run comot pass another road because she know say FIRE don come!''

''If you be man wey don marry for like 6 years and you never satisfy ya wife one day, and you still dey beg am make she no leave you, make she give you more time; Exceede excede magnum na for you oh!''

''If you be man wey instead of make you do ya husband duty, you dey blame ya enemies, this agbo- jedi na for you oh!'' he crooned on.

''My brother, if all these young boys for ya compound don dey take ya territory for house, dem nor dey tell person two times, Execcede Exceede wetin I talk????'' He asked.

''MAGNUM!!!!!'' roared the entire bus in reply.

A smile came over his face and you could almost see him mentally calculating his loot from this seemingly gullible audience.

He continued  ''Even, my brother, even if ya wife get plenty patience, plenty plenty patience, one day she go tire and ya luck go run out''

'Yes ke, Oga  alagbo'' hissed out an obese market woman in the middle of the bus.
''That kain man na failure o jare!'' She purred on in the thickest Yoruba accent since 9ice and Toni Payne's baby.


''Madam, mba, mba! I disagree!'' yelled the light skinned guy next to me.
''What if the man dey try im best but the woman don spoil tey tey before dem even meet. Even if you like, climb tree, come somersault enter, you no go fit satisfy am! Ehn!'' he opined with much passion, we all knew without been told that we were witnesses to a true story of pain!

''Abeg hep me see dis oyibo! Oga, nothing like doing your best-i oh! She replied.
''Even if trailer don pass there before, If you be man for house, you must do man work!''
''If you know say you no get power, you for reject the wife when dem give you!''

''Awon oloriburuku. and na their type go dey surround themselves with useless friends, dey go party, dey dance up and down and forget their wife for house!'' she cussed out.

So, I'm here with the girls dem that like to party and move some body........

At this point, the merchant of potency knew he was losing his customers attention.

''My people, my people. E nor reach to quarrel'' he intervened.
''If you be man and you get this problem, in less than 6 weeks your wife go forget all the suffer she don suffer. Infact....''

''Owo leyin. Money for back!'' the bus conductor interrupted with a bellow.

''One bottle na just 750'' he continued.

''Abeg give me one bottle'' my light skinned neighbour said with a sheepish glance round the bus.
''I wan buy am give my friend Joe.''

''Na so bros! Tell ya 'friend' say na only one teaspoon he go use oh'' the alagbo said.


''I say, owo leyin. Make una give me money for back na'' the red eyed conductor shouted.

''Conductor, I dey come. Oya, take. For three feefu for back'' a dark skinned gentleman said.


''Ye!Mogbe!'' the conductor yelled.

''When Aboki enter my bus?... You nor hear say Aboki ma wole?.... Why your dress swell like that?...... Aboki wetin dey your bag?....... I say wetin you carry?.........''


P.S: the Flipout Corner is on the twitter machine @doctorrotcod

Presidential Candidate Muhamaddu Buhari; yesterday's man or tomorrow's messiah? A beer parlour narrative!

It was one of those days, like so many before it, after long hours slaving at work but with admittedly half of those hours spent on Linda Ikeji's blog wondering when the god of Range Rover that did hers would do mine, I somehow meander my vehicle through traffic to my favourite  get- away joint.

To avid readers of this blog; that's myself, my mum, my two friends and my dog Wike( to my Rivers people, that's pronounced 'why-k' and not like your future governor's name by any chance) this joint should be as familiar to you as the vivid smell of corruption as you drive though the streets of uptown Abuja!

Ahhhhh, Mama Nkechi's 'Garden of Happiness'!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A.K.A Green Bottle Cathedral.

A place where folks gather to let off the pent up frustrations of their slowly ebbing lives in a steaming bowl of ridiculously huge catfish pepper soup and to also see if by any chance they could find the key to their success in life at the bottom of a cold bottle of Star Lager!

If Mama Nkechi, God bless the mother that taught her to cook, knew the number of lives her famous 'Noah's Ark' pepper soup had saved from the interminable frustrations of modern day Nigeria, she'd probably contest for office; LGA Chairman or something.
Lesser folks have been known to rule us in greater offices!


Anyway, this night was no exception and the usual lively ruckus associated with places of ethanol worship as this was already brewing.
The music blaring from the back speakers was one that took me to a time of less responsibility and pressure.
A time of 20Naira gala, 25Naira Coke and 100Naira to a Dollar!

'All the Hausa girls,
Ibo girls,
Even Yoruba girls dem...................................'


Ahh! Like a debt conveniently forgotten, the name of the artiste kept escaping me but the rhythm did its work of shuffling me ever closer to the bar.

His name is Ollie Gee by the way. Song; Daddy Moh!

But as I got close to the bar proper, I noticed the  ruckus was a bit more rowdy than usual and I could clearly see a fairly large crowd gathered bang in the centre of the pub over a seemingly dying man.

The man was so skinny, you'd wonder where any catfish with an iota of self esteem would stay.
Apparently, this self respecting piece of fish bone was stuck in his throat and the poor fella was flailing his arms and gasping for breath like the folks at the Rock called Aso drowning in corruption!

''Okoli, 'match' the 'stomuch' '' roared a  loud voice from the back.
''I say press this man belle well well''
''Mama Nkechi, is like ya customer haf swallow bone oh'' bellowed the man, though still apparently more interested in the aquatic captive on his plate than for his dying comrade-at-the-bottles!

Luckily for the man, God and a few well practiced compressions to his tummy by the bar's owner ensured the offending piece of bone was dislodged from his wind pipe and all was on its way to been well with the world again!

''Nne, you won't believe it! This same thing do me for 1983 for one joint for Owerri like that!!!'' The fellow who we had all come to know as Hygenius, recounted to Mama Nkechi as he slowly made his way up.

''That time Buhari just pursue Shagari commot for office. In fact Nne, na around this December time sef!''

''Bros Hygenius, this same Buhari wey Twitter say wan contest next 'yeah' so?'' Asked a young man, who couldn't have been a day older than sixteen from the front.

At this point, I'd like to be socially correct and pretend the young fella was sipping on a cold bottle of Fanta but unless in the midst of the fish brouhaha, Fantas now came in large green bottles, I'd say we all, in the revered words of Oristsefemi, let the boy ''Spend his money any way he likes it oh''

''Yes my brother! This same Buhari! Dem fit never born your papa sef that time.''
''As him neck thin now, na so him neck thin that time!''
''One naira, Buhari no thief!''


At this point, Mama Nkechi who usually was more interested in ensuring nobody drank a free bottle 'on her head'  joined the discussion.
''No be lie Hygenius, I remember that time well''
''As Buhari dey fight corruption among politicians dem, na so he dey fight indiscipline for the country.''
''Dem no born ya Papa make you no queue for Bus-Stop!''
The entire bar rattled in agreement, at least those old enough to remember.

Just as the din was settling, a slow rattling noise filled the room. It was the sound of Prof, a sinewy elderly man better known at the bar for his taste in girls so young, they were probably not born when he last had a working set of molars, trying to get up with his cane.

''It seems you all have had your memories of Buhari obfuscated by the denudation that time inevitably brings.'' he started impressively but ultimately meaninglessly.

''This Buhari you all herald as a champion of discipline and anti-corruption was nothing but a dictator who hounded politicians and dissidents into the gulag and had his military boys harass ordinary Nigerians into obedience by floggings, executions and frog jumps on the streets!'' he continued.


By God, I could tell from the poorly timed exclamations around the bar that half the patrons did not have the vaguest idea what the elderly gentleman just said.

He could as well have told us all to go take a nap on one of Reno Omokri's much touted GEJ trains for all we cared!

You seen the train? Me neither.

''Do we still have corruption and indiscipline today?''
''Did his much touted economic policies of Buharism work?''
''Apart from failed abductions and extraditions did he achieve anything to gain us international acclaim?'' Prof kept at it never the less.

These were strong words and the Cathedral fell silent as I had never heard in my many years of worship.

We all looked at each other for a response to Prof's very true words and we were all dumbfouned.

But as Aristotle once wisely said ' they're looking for the formula, from here down to South Africa........" or was it Don Jazzy?
Anyway, in life sometimes, where the answer or should we say the formula arises from may be as confounding as the problem!

'Okoli press the stomuch' had taken time to look up from his plate with a look of deep contemplation and spoke.
'But Sir, could we also argue'' he began, in  diction so refined that our earlier thoughts that a good portion of his brain lay in his pot belly may have been unfounded after all.

''Could we also argue, that enough time was not given to allow his economic policies bear fruit and indeed in the short term, we witnessed a marked improvement in the behaviour and indeed public composure of Nigerians?''

''Would it be a lie to say that in his time as the Petroleum Trust Fund (PTF) Chairman, evidence of this fund's influence was seen across the country unlike a certain unsure SURE-PEE?''

''More importantly has anyone pointed an accusatory finger of corruption at the good General in all these years?''

''In these difficult times, is this not the sort of leader we need?''

''And please spare me the Islamist propaganda!'' he ended.



''Mama Nkechi.! Mama Nkechi!! Mama Nkechi!!! Give this man stout! I say give this man one big stout!!!!'' yelled the teenage boy as the entire pub broke into 'hmms' and 'ahhhhsss' at 'Okoli's' oration.

As this point, it dawned on us and indeed Mama Nkechi that we still had a grossly under aged boy in our midst at an ungodly hour.

''Oya, Chibuzor come dey go house! Ya Mama don dey fine you!''

Face tired and with drunken legs barely able to hold his weight, the boy staggered to his feet and on his way out quipped '' Mama Nkechi, he be like say Bros Hygenius ( of swallowed bone fame) no dey breath again. Is like your customer haf die oh!!!!!!!!!!''.

No wonder he's been quiet for a while!

P.S: The FlipOut Corner is still on the twitter machine @doctorrotcod and still does not hold an opinion and  loves all the candidates.

Nigerian Poli-thievians, gate jumping and a worried Christian God!

I'm not sure what the percentage of Nigerian law makers are Christian but the Christian God must be a very worried being wherever he/she/it (trying really hard to be gender sensitive here) is right about now.

We've read the bible.
We've heard the jokes.
We all assume to know that interrogation at the Pearly Gates by St. Peter is a major process in getting into heaven.

We've still not made up our minds though, on if there's a list where the names of the holy few like yours holily would be read out from or if the video of all our past transgressions would be played via high speed heavenly Internet on a wide screen iPad!

I'm just hoping Gen. Sani Abalcha got to the gates with those dark goggles because the end of his own video would be very strange to say the least.
Very very somehow if I must say.

I'm just gonna say I'm not always that way, Pete!

Anyway, if we're to believe the tales, nobody gets past those gates without a good grilling about their deeds in this world.

So, events in Abuja, Nigeria, in the last 24hrs must have caused a right old storm in the comfy confines of heaven!
Watching pot-bellied old men in starched 'Agbadas' and crisp suits scale the gates of the National Assembly Complex like, as the kids would say, 'Itz nothing', must have set off alarm bells.

If heaven is anything like Nigeria, by now, a committee to look into both the 'remote and close' possibilities of these sprightly Nigerian Poli-thievians scaling the Pearly Gates would have been set up!

Abeg warn those Nigerians. IF WE HEAR!!!!!

On  a more serious note (which I'm assuming is -La. -Re and -Mi seem so much more lively, don't you think?), the events at the National Assembly Complex yesterday should be enough to make anyone with even the most vestigial inclination of civility cringe in horror!

In Covenant University English, 'It was like, so totally shocking!'.

The sight of riot-ready police men, spraying canisters of tear gas on the hallowed grounds of Nigerian Legislature left not only a lot to be desired but was a dark mark on democracy as a process and a whole!

It tells us the extent certain folks presently resident at the Rock in Abuja are willing to go to sit tight in office beyond 2015.
The action gives us an insight into their minds and thought process and the picture, just like a butt naked Kim Kardashian, is far from pretty.

But then, as my god friend Bekibele Brume , the Chancellor of Olomu land and the visiting Ambassador from Canada, Romania and the whole of Eastern Europe to Nigeria would say, 'Na see-finish make squirrel climb hunter for forest, call am tree!'

I seriously doubt that the Police and it's executive backers at the Rock have had the audacity to attack the complex in such a brazen manner, if the house was hitherto composed of men and women of impeccable character.

Seeing these so-called Honourables jump gates like petty criminals only serves to buttress my point.

When members of his constituency asked him to take democracy to greater heights, I'm not too sure he totally understood!

 The Nigerian Police could have added dry pepper and Calabar beans to the tear gas for all I care but we must always strive to protect democracy but to make our cry about individuals, be it GEJ or Tambowal, would be a gross disservice.

Where do we go from here?
I'm thinking Cold Stone, to get a bowl of my favourite 'Strawberry blond' ice cream mix but since we are in a period of austerity according to Madam Co-ordinating Minister, maybe not.

So instead where we go from here is probably where we've gone already. Getting on the internet, radio, television, newspapers and letting people know that you cannot attack symbols of democracy to satisfy primal desires.

Maybe they listen, maybe they don't but lets spare a thought for the engineers frantically working at the Pearly Gates as we speak trying to fortify it from these sprightly Nigerian Poli-thievians!

P.S: The Flipside of Life is on the Twitter machine @doctorrotcod.

2015: Nigerian politicians and the Alaga Ibile Complex!(Mo fe lowo ju Daddy mi!)

*Note: some understanding of Nigerian Pidgin English and contemporary culture is needed to understand this work of absolute non-art of mine. Thank you*
 
For some unfortunate reason, I don't seem to know anyone in  Nigerian politics.

Apologies to Uncle Ade Alasco, the Chairman of the Sub-committee on Market Affairs in my village ward.
I see you oh but we talking international money here!

As I was saying, for some reason, no close friend of mine or close friend of my father or even my pastor is or close to anyone in power.
Even if the contract to dey fuel Pastor private jet no dey again, I fit dey escort the plane go South Africa once in a while......................................................................

Anyway, beyond watching the exotic lifestyle of these privileged few and their cohorts from a non- participatory distance, a major fantasy of mine has always been trying to guess the songs booming through the speakers of those luxurious BMW's and Mercedes' used as official cars for these official looters.

Putting myself in the shoes of the drivers of these executive men of means, I would want the first song I dish out as we start the day to be one that totally puts him and his pot belly at complete ease.

No politician wants Idris Abdulkarim's 'Nigeria Jaga Jaga" barking at him in his own car!

Tufia! What's that!!!!!!

I'm going to assume, its Nigerian, and going through all the contemporary Nigerian songs in my head over and over, only one song fits the bill.

Just imagine a Godswhile Akpabion (lovely stadium by the way, Oga Goddy), all regally decked in the backseat, cheeks rosy and shiny enough to be seen from the International Space Station, A.C on 20 degrees, (na poor man wey never acclimatise to good life dey use 16 degrees), and the gentle sonorous whispers  of  'Everything is nice...........the party's banging..............the time is right............ I see the money coming.....' wafting from the Bose speakers!

It just feels natural!

It just has to be.

It's the tail end of 2014 and it's three months or so to another festival of thieves and looters also known as General Election 2015.

For the last four years, these custodians of our mandate and automatically our collective purse have ensconed themselves in multi-million naira homes and fed fat on multi billion naira diets which I can only assume includes the Shaki and Edo (not to be mistaken with that beautiful  state in the deep South of Nigeria by the Owan River) of Alaskan bears because pepper rice, moin-moin and dodo at Mama Rauf a.ka 'Mama Rice-ing to the occasion', barely sets me back 250 bucks!

Nna, na advise dem dey advise person oh!

In the last four years, they've not had reason to go home, bone tired, but still have to pull on and kick  their barely gasping ELEPAQ generators at least 17 and half times before it starts.

That half is when, totally soaked in sweat, you barely pull on the machine and it gives this spluttering sound and you pull the 'choke' to the very extreme end and force the poor engine to work!

Nope, they haven't experienced all these in a while.

Instead, they've become accustomed to been addressed to as 'Your Excellency', 'Your Highness' and 'Chairman' for so long, that life before and beyond the present is impossible for them to imagine.

They've had people like Davido, Kcee and Kwam1 wax their praise in songs that they've forgotten that even Goliath had a praise song back in the day.

The common man on the other hand, in our eagerness to rid ourselves of 15 years of striking poverty and insecurity foisted on us by an apparently clueless ruling party, may find ourselves rushing into the arms of the opposition in the name of 'Change'.
May our case not be like the wife who ran from an emotionally cold husband and found herself in the warm embrace of a man who can only consummate love from behind!.

I honestly have no idea where that analogy came from but I'm just gonna move on and assume you get my drift.

Be it PDP, APC, Labour Party or even the one that has a cock as its emblem........erm.........erm........erm
Nna remind me na?
APGA?
 Yes, APGA!!!!!!!!!!
Irrespective of party, if you presently have a president or governor who for every pothole he fills or hospital without doctors he builds, puts up a billboard with a picture of himself smiling like a recently satisfied he-goat, then you my friend, are suffering  from been led by a leader with an Alaga Ibile Complex.

Just remember that in 2015, to cast your vote for candidate, irrespective of party, with good antecedents in public and indeed private life as a guide.

As Reminisce, the official Alaga Ibile himself wisely put it, ' Inu laomo, oju la ri'.  You only see the face not the intention!

P.S; The Flipout corner and it's two followers are still on the twitter machine @doctorrotcod

Dear God, things are not alright! (A West African's letter to God. An Ebola plea)

                                                                                                                                
                                                                                                                          No 1, West Africa



 God,

1, Ibukunoluwa Avenue,

Heaven ( possibly very close to America)
                                                   
                                                     Sir,
                                                   
                                                         It is I, one of your many many long lost  children. My name is Dayo but I'm guessing you know that already.

But hold on oh! 

Not the Dayo that  attends that Love of world or something church somewhere in Lagos oh!The one with more light skinned women than a Light Up Nigeria T.v commercial and an even lighter skinned pastor who just split from his wife....................Now I'm just rambling.

That Dayo pays his tithe regularly, gives super offerings and generally makes sure pastor's private jet is fuelled and ready to take the gospel to all men!

This Dayo, not so much.

You might be more familiar with him because our Men Of God i.e your men , this side of the world tell us those things matter to you more than purity of the heart.

All my diamonds watching, now my watches getting jealous! 

Something tells me it's not very true though!

Sir, you see, I've known you for some time now.
My parents know you.
My parents parents knew you and they all told me great things about you.
Chief amongst them been your heart of forgiveness, loving kindness and how only good things come from you.

Even on those Sunday mornings  when I walk into your house with a slight shuffle in my gait, not because  like David I was always overjoyed to enter into your house but because I might have had one too many shots of Jack the night before, you still search deep into my  soul and sieve out the best in me.

Even  when as a whole, the entirety of West Africa has been a cesspit  of corruption, mindless civil wars, despots, crime and fraud, a lesser god would have cut his losses, set  a wildfire upon the land and then act all surprised when the cops come around for questioning.
 But not you sir!

Though,we've had many losses, You've always kept West Africa  away from total collapse. 

For that we thank you.
This Ebola though, we do not understand.

 The fact that our leaders siphon money meant for developing and maintaining public health systems is a given and that we understand.

Infact, Chief Theophilus 'ThisLifeTooSweet' Ajayi, our Federal Senator was in the village the other day to inspect his country villa currently under construction.

You should see the house Baba, it is a magnificent sight alongside the villagers huts and we are so proud of him. 

But how does  that translate to our inability to stop this Ebola scourge that is clearly a plague from the Devil!




We also understand that though quality education is  on the government's list of development goals, it's probably farther down that list than a pair of jeans on an upcoming Nigerian artist's behind!

But then again, how does poor education and irrational thinking aid the spread of this deadly virus? We truly do not know but what we know is that the Devil is a liar!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We have lost thousands Daddy.

Last count was about 4000 across Guinea, Liberia, Sierra Leone and Nigeria.

CNN has even constructed a special Ebola map for us  as if living here with it was not enough reminder, but we thank them.

The Americans, who are technically our brothers since we are all your children, have helped a bit.
They could do more though but even I stopped picking Hakeem, my brother's call, when every casual call to 'check on me' always ended  with a 'quick favour'.

But beyond sending soldiers and increasing airport screening, they could actually consider helping to strengthen the health systems of the key countries.

By the way, since Heaven is so close to America, could you help us, the poor people of West Africa, ask Mr Obama  why every AMERICAN patient treated in AMERICA survives the virus?

Amma just sit by this cup of  hot Lipton and await  the answer.

Finally Lord I don't know if you've come across any of my prayer requests.

Pastor says I can donate to purchase something for the church a.k.a himself and then watch as my request gets to you faster than it  allegedly took Governor's Fayose's thugs to land a backhand on Oga judge's face in Ekiti State.

Let it be on record that I only allegedly supervised the slapping!

Top on the list was an American visa. 

Top on the list is still an American visa.

But you gotta act fast and stop this Ebola, those embassy boys ain't playing no more! 

Yours faithfully,
Dayo,
Your West African son.