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