BCOS Interview with LCU's Dr. Ojedokun (Associate Professor of Law)

First Lecture

First Lecture…

In Obad’s short period of existence, he had entered pleas before judges, campaigned in the presence of thousands, faced the world on the airwaves through British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC), preached in countless of Churches and found himself influencing a varied audience.  The experience and knowledge of all these encounters boosted his pride, inflated his ego and sated him in unspeakable arrogance.  But nothing within that range prepared him to face a class of students at Mercury University, on that fateful day.

 

In his first class taken under the auspices of the Faculty of Management and Social Sciences he was wracked with anxiety.  He needed a prop to deliver him from his inadequacies. Thoughts flew across his mind in a flash. How would he disseminate knowledge of Business Law, its intricacies, its nuances and its overall objectives.  Will the students appreciate him, he pondered, will they grasp his words or would he become a quavering man who simply could not hack it?

This was how he approached the lecture theartre populated with rows and rows of students, presenting a riot of colours, in all shapes and sizes with a nod and wink to the corporate dress sense. He flashed his silver coloured, brand new slim Apple mac-computer for functionality, it contained all his notes.  Without much more of a glance in their direction, he ushered himself to the wooden Mercury University branded rostrum neatly placed in the front of the theatre.   

In what seemed like a long foreboding silence, descended upon lecture theatre, and the tension became palpable. He could have sworn his imagination conveyed from outside, the howling of winds, flapping sounds of the wings of bats flying back from their insect hunting, interrupting him, as his maiden lecture was about to commence.

Regurgitating line by line, word for word from the notes on his laptop screen, in embedding of the Southern England tinge he began to speak on elements of a ‘Contract’.  It was with the question ‘…Are all Agreements Contracts?’ He sought to start. However, from the squint in their eyes, frowns burrowed on some foreheads, and the puzzled look in some eyes he realised he was losing them. In puzzlement he thought he had up until now never met a rhetorical challenge without triumph.  

He decided now was the time for innovation, inventiveness and creativity and abandoned the ineffective prop his laptop had become. He drew on something out of the realms of the dramatic that lay latent within him.  He was translated in time to his days at Olumi College when he was Vice-President of the African and Dramatic Society and featured in a few drama sketches. He identified two students beckoned on them to rise up from their seats and to come to the front of the class. He announced to the incredulity of the class the intention to put up a drama sketch and then proceeded to give the budding actors some hastily crafted lines. One acted as the father and the other as a University student.  

The script followed with the father making a grandiose promise to purchase a brand new Mercedes-AMG C43 4Matic Coupe, which features a twin-turbocharged 3.0-litre V6 that develops 362 hp and 384 lb-ft of torque and a all-wheel-drive system with a rear-biased torque distribution for more neutral handling, and a gearbox which has two additional gears for a total of nine If his daughter was able to achieved a first class degree from Mercury University.  

With scrupulous faithfulness to the script the daughter made the first class and then approached the father to fulfill the terms of the earlier agreement.  The father balked and gave her N200,000 to celebrate with her friends, suggesting the promise was simply made to encourage to heights so great. The daughter refused his gift and entreaties insisting on the fulfillment and complete settlement of the promise. With the father unrelenting, the drama ended with me questioning whether the daughter could successfully sue the father.    

Celebrating Our Friend a Scholar of Princely Pedigree – Professor Oluyinka Olutoye

In the early 70s with Nigeria just emerging from the throes of a vicious civil war, I was settling into Lagos life in the sedate atmosphere of the Akoka University campus. I was enrolled in one of the elite primary schools, The University of Lagos Staff School by virtue of my parent’s employment with the University. On a brisk Monday morning an unfamiliar face sauntered into our classroom, a fair complexioned boy with triangular shaped hair, parting at the sides dominating the top of his head. 

The boy had the courtesy of a double promotion, gained from the lower reception class. Whilst it was the regular frantic clearing of the thick and lush green bushes that concealed the swamps in close proximity to the school that usually captured my imaginations, the boy, Oluyinka being more focused and had his mind on other things as he continued to advance year on year, trotting from class to class maintaining his hold on the first position.  

He gained admission with ease into King’s College, Lagos, obtained a scholarship and I joined him two months later in the College.  It is by sheer coincidence I joined him in the same House, Panes. At college he displayed acumen on the field of sports, Hockey and Cricket, representing the College and even Lagos State. He was also a keen Cadet Unit member rising to temporary Lt. and 3 i c. He had a foray into the realm of politics contesting and winning the post of Assistant Scribe of the Student Council, in a vigorous campaign, which I coordinated. 

He was recognised as a leader of boys, his bearing and comportment always betrayed him and for that he was appointed Assistant Prefect of Panes House. His sheer brilliance ensured that his O’ levels ended in distinction with outstanding JAMB results. He went on to Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife (Great Ife) to study Medicine and I followed two years later and choose to read Law. I drowned myself in the rumbustiousness of student union politics but he immersed himself in his studies.

On his 21st birthday dinner party held in his honour and attended by his father the retired Major-General Olufemi Olutoye, the second graduate to become an officer in the Nigerian Army, I managed to give a rousing toast to ’Yinka. In response he responded graciously that I would have been the next President of the Students’ Union if I had not been in my final year.

It is from here our paths diverged, he went to the US and I to the UK but he has never failed to keep in touch. When I acted as the Dean of the Faculty of Law at Lead City University, Ibadan he visited me with his wife, Olutoyin another accomplished scholar in the field of medicine. They visited not long after he had performed the groundbreaking feat of operating on a foetus outside the womb and returning it back to be born again. He lives in far away United States and I in Nigeria but we have kept a remarkable friendship over the years, I preached Christ to him as a boy and we prayed the prayer of acceptance. I visited him on many occasions at his parent’s residence in Obanikoro. Though of princely Ido-Ani heritage he has always been a gentleman laced with humility and never betrayed his illustrious pedigree. He stands tall in faith and shines brightly in his profession.

We celebrate the achievement of one more laurel today that of the National Merit Award 2020, it is long overdue, it is most deserving and it is very inspiring. I say Floreat!

Olu Ojedokun

The Passage of My Father's Twin...

Out of sensibilities to my mother i refrained from announcing or writing about my Uncle, my father's twin brother and the last of the musketeers of Olasupo, Adeagbo and Oladejo. Now my mother has called to offer me condolence i can eulogise my late uncle. 

I am told that my father grew up working the farm with his first cousin Oladejo Alamu Ojedele until their elder cousin Chief Alani Lawunmi and one Mr. A.A. Ogunrinu rescued them at age nine and insisted they enroll at the local St. Peter DC Primary School in 1945. I sometimes wonder where his path would have ended if he remained on the farm, would he be with us today? After attending St Peter’s School, Oluponna, Christ Church School, Mapo, Ibadan and D.C. School, Araromi, Iwo, in 1953 and 1954 when they went off to Offa Grammar they never had the protections that shoes offered and their uniforms were all bought on credit. 

My father and his cousin then proceeded to attend Nigerian College of Arts, Science and Technology. They both attended University College Ibadan, then part of University of London. In 1960 whilst at the Nigerian College of Arts, Science and Technology my father Olasupo Aremu Ojedokun rebuffed the counsel of his cousin Oladejo Alamu Ojedele who pleaded with him: 

“Ema loo Eko, ani ema lo ekoo.”

He joined other students to demonstrate against the Anglo-Nigerian Defence Pact. The response they received from the police encountered on their way to Lagos was unexpected brutality, it manifested itself in stifling fumes from the teargas they fired. My Uncle, Oladejo completed his degree in Geography, his performance affected by the loss of his mother and then as his so often the case with siblings their paths and their destinies diverged in differing directions. My uncle was always the conciliator, the contented one and the one with foresight. It might have been this which affected is not being made Head of Service in the newly created Osun State even though he was the most senior Permanent Secretary. However, he accepted the slight with maturity and without rancor.

It was with my Uncle Mathew Oladejo Alamu Ojedele that we spent our holidays while in Ìbàdàn. We stayed at Ago Taylor in Ìbàdàn while he was serving as a senior civil servant with the Western and later Oyo State Government. My uncle was very reserved and it is claimed he remained locked in the grief brought about by the loss of his closest companion, his cousin, my father. I am convinced he would have made more progress, supprassing that of becoming a Permanent Secretary had the tragedy of my father’s loss not befallen him. 

The two cousins were indeed like twins, born around the same period, sharing the same bed, hobbies and indeed friends. They attended the same primary school, same secondary school, Offa Grammar School and the same University at Ìbàdàn. Later on in 1978, my uncle moved into a sprawling but near completed house built and which nestled at the bottom of a hill in Idi-Ape, Basorun a few metres down the road from the Odeniyi’s my other cousins. There was always something interesting to do while in their home. My uncle was very close to Mr. Babajide an indigene of Iwo town, who worked at the Oyo State Sports Commission so he would always take us to visit him. We always came back with some gift or souvenir and he would take us around the Liberty Stadium, the first of its kind in Africa. When we were at Ago Taylor I had little sense of dress code for church so once I attended a service with my cousin in my brown imported stonewashed hot pants, which left little to the imagination! When my uncle and aunty returned from some travel they were aghast wondering why I had worn what they described as ‘Sokoto pepe’ to church! 

At age seven in, 1973 I also remember fondly when my uncle was posted to Sagamu as a District Officer, we spent some holidays with him in his sprawling official bungalow. Once at the urgings of the housemaid my cousins and siblings and I ventured into town, Sabo in particular, and we got lost. We became consumed in a desperate panic, and simply went round and round various alleyways and roads only to become more confused. Thankfully, we hit a stroke of luck when we recognised a car we had passed and made our way home in complete relief. While we were lost panic was coursing through my mind for several minutes thinking that we would be kidnapped and it would mark the end of us and no one would ever find us. In our most difficult and desolate years after the loss of my father Olasupo the cushion of generosity provided by my Uncles Odeniyi, Adigun, Ojedele, Ogunkanmi, Adetugbo and Atewologun bolstered us through our challenges. 

I remember that at the King's College Dance I was bedecked in my 1979 check suit, made in America, purchased for me by my Uncle Ojedele, the only suit I owned. At some stage when my University studentship was affected because of my student union activities it was Chief Odeniyi and Chief. Ojedele who visited the Vice-Chancellor of the University of Ife to plead my case. Though the Vice-Chancellor 'Wande Abimbola let them know in certain terms that we were in trouble and the government was minded to be ruthless with us. 

I visited him less than two weeks before his passage to discuss issues to do with the estate of my late father. I was due in the UK on the 23rd December 2021 but a curious fate conspired to ensure that my confirmed ticket was messed up and I could not fly, painful and gut wrenching it was for my wife but now I know why it happened that way, whilst I was struggling to ensure I travelled my Uncle was breathing his last on this earth.

My sense of history and bearing in my origins i got from him. He did not allow his limited means to stop him from assisting and supporting so many. Inevitably the weight was much because of the passage of his twin brother but he shouldered it admirably. I will miss him, I am left bereft and vacant, and i remain grateful to God Almighty for his life and for every kind word that has come my way at this time. He was not my biological father but he was in actions, attitudes and his plans he and my aunty Ojedele treated us as theirs and so we are!  Good night Baba mi, the Patriarch of the Ojeleyes!

The Passage of ‘Mabogs’ and The Warning That Awaits…

In the past few years I have hung my pen, abandoned wordsmithing and sat around in keen observance of what my beloved Nigeria is becoming. My immobility of action has not been deliberate but forced upon me by despondency. However, after learning that my friend, senior and fellow kingsman Dr. Afolabi Mabogunje, ‘Mabogs’, ‘General’ died in hospital from horrendous wounds due to a ‘five-hour delay’ at the teaching hospital I am consumed with utter grief. 

Mabogs was a few years my senior at King’s College, Lagos, in the same House, Panes and became a Prefect in the tradition of his older cousin the legendary ’Gboyega Mabogunje and followed by his younger cousin ’Sola as an Assistant Prefect. I was later reunited with Afolabi in the 1990s in England through the auspices of the Overseas Fellowship of Nigerian Christians before he relocated to Nigeria.

Today I stand even more petrified to discover that he might have survived the attack if he had been promptly operated on at the Lagos State University Teaching Hospital, Ikeja.

According to reports from Punch Newspaper of Sunday September 19 2021, I quote:

“Our correspondent had reported that the deceased, fondly called Mabogs and General, was stabbed by some hoodlums around Shodex area, Anthony, along Ikorodu Road, while he was waiting for his co-cyclists about 5am on Thursday, September 9, 2021.

The assailants, said to be on a motorcycle, robbed him of his phone and left him for dead but he reportedly struggled to ride the bicycle to a nearby bank where a good Samaritan helped him to call his wife who picked him up at the scene.

He was said to have been taken to the Gbagada General Hospital and was later referred to LASUTH where he underwent a surgery. He reportedly went into a coma post-surgery and died on Wednesday.”

“We finally got into the theatre about 1pm and then there was an outage. We waited for about five minutes before power was restored and it went off again. The surgery eventually started about 1.30pm for a man who sustained injuries at 5am and got to LASUTH at 8am. That was the delay that changed the story. If he had got blood within 30 minutes he got to LASUTH perhaps he would have survived.”

In the face of this report and the state of the present Nigeria I am forced to abandon all constraints and draw from the British Neil Kinnock’s warning of a few years ago about the re-emergence of Margaret Thatcher as Prime Minister and issue this chilling write up. 

I warn you that in today’s Nigeria you will find unavoidable pain if hospital treatment or its efficacy is conditioned on whether the doctors are on strike or not. I warn you that there will be more ignorance in the land where talents and wits are wasted, because learning has become a privilege and not a right.

I warn you that more poverty will be abound – when the naira slips in value and salaries are whittled away by a government that would not pay in an economy that cannot pay.

I warn you that you will be left out in the cold when prices of utilities, food items continue to rise uncontrollably.

I warn you not to expect work when many cannot spend, and more will be unable to earn. When they do not earn, they do not spend. When they do not spend, work dies.

I warn you in the face of continued insecurity not to venture, drive or cycle on the streets alone in the day or after dark or you will be mauled, robbed and left for dead.

I warn you that you will be left quiet and immobilised when the curfew of fear and the gibbet of unemployment continues to consume us.

I warn you that you will become home-bond if fares and transport bills continue to rise and kill leisure and lock you up.

If Nigeria continues to stumble on this trajectory then –

I warn you not to be ordinary;

I warn you not to be young;

I warn you not to fall ill or be injured;

I warn you not to get old; and 

I warn you not to remain.

Adieu my brother Mabogs, may your passage to the better life not be in vain for those of us left behind and may my hysterical warnings pass unfulfilled.

Olu Ojedokun

Maj. Gen. Gowon Opens New Building for the Nigerian Institute For Intern...

PAPERS REVIEW - OLU OJEDOKUN AS ANALYST

The Eloquence of My Faith

Over the past two weeks I have been forced into winsome hibernation requiring self-isolation in a box room of constrained dimensions. I have been totally reliant on my faith in my Lord and saviour and the efficacy of His healing. It was on my flight from Nigeria into the UK that my suspicions were awakened to the fact that I might be harbouring the Covid19 virus.

My sense of smell had completely left me and aches pains and a foreboding headache had taken hold. Immediately in England I sought to be tested and was confirmed positive for the virus.

The news proved most difficult but my family rallied, my wife provided loving care and daughters offered support and words of encouragement. Also friends in the know like BM, H, and my Chaplain in Nigeria were exceptional. The second test proved positive again. However, through fervent prayers today, this moment my re-test confirmed me negative for the virus, I am immensely thankful be to God Almighty I am now free!

To all my friends, relatives and loved ones, if you harbour any doubts about the virus, its real, please social distance and adorn your face masks!

Please click on this link for my latest offering....Olu Ojedokun responds to President Buhari's speech

My new wigs...

 

Love Quest 2

It is this conundrum that began to consume Obad, one that he knew he had to resolve soon.

He laid strewn across his single wooden based bed as he his thoughts raced away, he dozed off and awoke to the Sunday morning and emerged bathed in an intensity of sunshine so powerful that its rays blinded him as he levered open one of his shut eyelids.  The crimson rays of the sun streaked through the gaps of the curtain drapes that afforded his bedroom privacy. In the University apportioned guesthouse suite where he made abode due to the delays in obtaining a University flat.

Fleeting thoughts crossed his mind of how much richer his life and other endeavours might be with a companion at his side. He also felt that taking a lass as a wife may reduce or eliminate unwarranted interests from the ladies.  He then resolved that he would be intentional in escalating his friendship with the lasses to beyond the platonic. But he desired to commit all to God’s hands, he believed that his end and beginning had to be in God’s will and a momentous step like this could not be contemplated with out a spot of prayer and fasting. 

He set aside a day of the week for regular prayer and fasting, it would contain reflection and times of listening.  It was while he was resolving all these he came across a Whatsapp message from an old female colleague, they had been classmates in the University. Kemi, a tall, elegant lady, bathed in chocolaty complexion. 

Her face was dominated by very prominent and sultry eyes with a wide smile capable of subduing the most resistant of men. She was regal in appearance and quite astute. She had made her home in Lagos and never really settled down to marriage. At University she was platonically acquainted with Obad with no hint of the romantic, but they got on well.  She was now the Director of Public Prosecutions, Lagos and by a canny coincidence she had began to feel bereft and thought to herself that all work and no play was beginning to make her a dull lass.  

Love Quest

A Sojourner's Return

Love Quest

Obad, the cerebral intellectual was almost 40 years old but had never found true love with a lady.  In all his years of sojourn in England none of the bevies of beauty took his fancy, none met his high demands in terms of stature, poise, taste or elegance. His preference had always been to be immersed in research, attend conferences and play political punditry on the small screen. It is these passions he cherished and loved and cast a cloud over his ability to develop a future partnership with a lass. He saw mutual exclusivity in most things and dividing his passions with a lass had not been on his menu.  But now he was situate in a University environment, away from the land of his birth, the rules were different. 

In England there were unspoken and unwritten rules and the relative wealth meant no one threw themselves at blokes, it simply was not necessary except you were deeply smitten or ravaged in craven lusts. But in this new environment, his country of origin, the land of his fathers, the rules of the game were different and sometimes confusing. In the close knitted community of the University campus, a code of conduct existed on paper, which indicated no fraternization was permitted between staff and student and these limited his options. He had up to this point seen himself as a father of all and a lover of none but the pressure had become intense.

Obad’s father, Oye, the renowned emeritus Professor of law at the London School of Economics now advancing in his 70s, and was on his case. He was a man of distinguished gait, standing at over 6 feet inches with ripples of slenderness, greying on the temples, clean-shaven and now slightly stooped by the ravages of age.  He always had his brown coloured wooden pipe placed firmly on his lips as he smoked away his tobacco effortlessly and intermittently between conversations. In his regular conversations with Obad through the WhatsApp he had began to place pressure on the need for him to be blessed with grandchildren before his days reached expiry. He had even begun to wonder whether the young man was gay.  In the last telephone conversation he had asked: “Obad are of a difference sexual persuasion?”  Obad responded tersely: “Dad why are you being so obtuse, why don’t you simply ask whether I am gay instead using the native round about style of asking?” The Professor then replied: “So are you? He continued with slight exaggeration: “I have never seen you with a lady you have never introduced any to me or to your mother. We are entitled to be worried and to seek answers!” In exasperation Obad shot back: “I prefer not to discuss my private life with you and I assure you there is nothing to worry about.”

The conversation weight heavily on his mind and had sown a seed, struck a cord and had began to needle at him.  He began to surreptitiously survey the terrain and did not quite find any suitable prospects, he was now restricted to the field of teaching and non-teaching staff but he had a principle, do not mess where you work.  It is this conundrum that began to consume Obad, one that he knew he had to resolve soon.

First Lecture -2

In careful repitition line by line, word for word from the notes on his laptop screen, in embedding of the Southern England tinge Obad began to speak on elements of a ‘Contract’.  It was with the question ‘…Are all Agreements Contracts?’ that he sought to start. However, from the squint in their eyes, the frowns burrowed on some foreheads, and the puzzled look on many eyes he realised he was losing them. In puzzlement he thought he had up until now never met a rhetorical challenge and without a corresponding triumph. 

He decided that now was the moment for innovation, inventiveness and creativity and Obad abandoned the ineffective crouch his laptop had become.  he drew on something out of the realms of the dramatic that lay latent within him.  He was translated in time to his days Secondary School days when he headed the African and Dramatic Society and featured in a few dramatic sketches. He identified two students, beckoned on them to rise up from their seats and to proceed to the front of the class. He announced to the incredulity of the class the intention to put up a drama sketch and then proceeded to give the budding actors some hastily crafted lines. One acted as the father and the other as a University student. 

The script unfolded with the father making a grandiose promise to purchase a brand new Mercedes-AMG C43 4Matic Coupe, which featured a twin-turbocharged 3.0-litre V6 that developed 362 hp and 384 lb-ft of torque and a all-wheel-drive system with a rear-biased torque distribution for more neutral handling, and a gearbox which has two additional gears for a total of nine, If his daughter was able to achieved a first class degree from the University. 

With scrupulous faithfulness to the script the daughter made the first class and then approached her father to fulfill the terms of the earlier agreement.  The father balked and gave her N200,000 to celebrate with her friends, suggesting the promise was simply made to encourage to heights so great. The daughter refused his gift and entreaties insisting on the fulfillment and complete settlement of the promise. With the father unrelenting, the drama ended with Obad questioning whether the daughter could successfully sue the father. The students in excitement offered various versions of their answers with many suggesting that a promise was one to be kept and therefore the father was liable.     

To be Contd.

First Lecture…

A Sojourner's Return

First Lecture…

Obad quickly got acquainted and close to a few lecturers.  There was Bamiye also a recent returnee from Australia, a quirky eccentric who possessed charms at the amiable level but it was cloaked by his volcanic temper, the eruption could be turned on and off like a switch. His expertise was in Medical Law, which he acquired from his first training as a medical doctor in the University of Australia.  He possessed a Doctorate in Law but had not been called to the bar, to practice as a lawyer. He straddled two faculties, that of Law and Medicine.  There was Dr. Amezie, a young petite lady, who wore beauty up her sleeves effortlessly and her brilliance was always on display like jewelry.  Her face was angular, her high brows distinct, lips thin but nicely shaped, her complexion very light and of moderate height.  She loved to bear braid of the intricate variety on her head with beads of varying colours to make her distinctive.  She was married to a British gentleman but became close to Obad on account of her perception that he was a man of integrity and fidelity.  There was the greying Professor, a ladies man, quite advanced in age but seemingly very spry, he always had a twinkle in his eye when a bevy of ladies were in view. It was rumoured that he engaged in numerous escapades with staff members but none was ever proven.  It was this context that defined and shaped Obad’s first lecture in the faculty. 

Obad was usually deep in thought and has he prepared for his debut as a lecturer he thought that in his short period of existence, he had pleaded before judges, campaigned in the presence of thousands of people, through BBC faced the world on the airwaves, preached in countless of Churches and found himself influencing numerous audiences. The experience and knowledge of all these encounters had boosted his pride, inflated his ego and sated him in unspeakable arrogance.  It was with these he ventured into the lecture theatre to meet the students. But nothing within all that range prepared him to face a class of students at the University on that fateful day.

The first lecture was delivered under the auspices of the Faculty of Management and Social Sciences, a borrowed course, Media Law. He was wracked with anxiety. He needed a crouch to deliver him from his sudden inadequacies. Questions flew across his mind in a flash. How would he disseminate knowledge of Media Law, its intricacies, its nuances and its overall objectives.  He pondered whether the students would appreciate him or would they grasp his words or he would become a quavering of a man who simply could not hack it?

He approached the lecture theartre populated with rows and rows of students, presenting a riot of colours of all shapes and sizes with a nod and wink to the corporate dress sense. He flashed his brand new slim, sliver coloured Apple mac-computer for functionality, for it contained all his notes.  Without much more of a glance in their direction, he ushered himself to the wooden University branded rostrum neatly placed in the front of the theatre.  

In what seemed like a long silence, descended upon lecture theatre, and the tension became palpable. He could have sworn his imagination conveyed from outside, the howling of winds, flapping sounds of the wings of bats flying back from their insect hunting, interrupting him as his maiden lecture was about to commence.

To be Contd.

The Dean

A Sojourner's Return

The Dean

The Faculty Dean, a man of slight stature, immersed in chocolate rich complexion and bore a bald head. His silver rimmed frames were perched precariously on the ridge of his nose, shielding his eyes which roved at a quickened pace, his chin dotted with grey stubble gave him a distinguished mien. He wore an ash grey suit and spotted a black bow tie for some matching effect.  He had attained the heights of legal practice and was a recent recipient of the highest professional award in Law, Senior Advocate of Nigeria. He was nestled comfortable in his leather bond swivel chair. The grandness of his table was betrayed by evidence of the mock wood used to construct it.  The floors of the office were immaculately polished given it a clinical feel and a flat screen television hung on the wall to his right.  Shelves with an array of books enveloped the space, and some sofas to the far end of the room for more informal encounters. A fridge unobtrusively lay at one end and Obad noticed a door, which led to an ensuite toilet. All around the room were exit doors, three in number and Obad wondered why that was the case.

Starring intently at the letter Obad had passed on to him, scrutinizing every word, and expressed the fact that he was oblivious to his appointment by asking “How do I know you are who you claim?’  Obad was taken aback and momentarily lost for words and then muttered “Sir, you are free to call the Human Resources for confirmation”.  After the conclusion of those formalities, Obad was introduced to the Faculty Manager Mrs. Tamiya. She has been veteran of the Faculty having served under two previous Deans, she knew where ‘the bodies were buried’ and how to make things work, she operated smoothly and efficiently and never betrayed any emotions. She was the archetypal administrator but she also wore elegance with great aplomb.  It was to her that Obad was directed. She spoke to him in a smattering of the local language but when Obad responded in English she effortlessly affected a polished British public school accent. Mrs. Tamayi had been a product of the Oxford University where she had studied Politics, Philosophy and Economics and wanted Obad who attained his doctorate from London School of Economics to realise he had encountered his match.

She took him on a tour of the Faculty facilities and introduced him to the available staff before allocating him to an office on the ground floor. Obad discovered that most offices were unoccupied and enquired from Mrs. Tamayi the reason for this. She replied in clipped tones that the Faculty had recently lost three of its lecturers in a vehicular accident whilst returning from the burial of a colleague’s father whilst two remain in hospital undergoing treatment.  A somber look slowly engulfed her person as she detailed her response.  It had now dawned on Obad the reason for his sudden and hasty recruitment from the London School of Economics where he had spent the last 20 years.  It was to address the recent staff shortage brought about by tragedy of unspeakable proportions.

Taste Buds…..

A Sojourners' Return

Taste Buds…..

Obad glanced at his silver plaited Gucci watch, a gift from his father to mark his acquisition of a doctorate degree and realised the time was far spent and hunger had set in. He arose from his spartanly furnished office to begin a slow languid walk towards the restaurants scattered at the heights of the University.  His office was on the ground floor and numbered as the first in the row.  It was a large space, with his wooden table edged towards the left and high bay windows quite high above. At its side was a spilt air conditioning unit and in front and array of  plastic chairs to cater for the endless streams of visiting students and colleagues.  

It had been a long, hard day, with the blazing heat of the sun refusing to abate in its intensity, blending in with the students’ relentless in their visits.  Obad now needed a respite, the kind offered by food. Suddenly he developed a hankering for some fried rice prettied with carrots, laced with onions, embroidered with chunks of chicken and garnished with prawns. As a suitable accompaniment he had wild dreams of a iced cold drink in the manner of a Chapman to refresh and cleanse his palette enabling the food to slither down his throat and into oblivion. 

His thoughts gravitated to his mother who had attained the heights of culinary feats by being the first person to introduce the delights of fried rice into the Nigerian social scene. Hers was always crisp, and cooked, simmering to perfection and the ingredients readily recognisable and of cause rich in a variety of nutrients.  But with a budget of under N500 where and which caterer could rise to the height of his desires?  The few restaurants littered around were designed to cater for students and for those on a budget, they were not given to the luxury of the Michelin star quality.  It is with these thoughts he had to make do and navigate his discerning taste buds.

Searing Heat…

A Sojourner’s Return

Searing Heat….

Obad had barely invested two weeks of his sojourn in the city, which was to be home for the near future when the searing heat creeped up on him. It was under the oppressiveness of this searing that he completed of some formalities at the Human Resources Department. He had known and experienced oppression before from his secondary school and university days but this was as a student. He had been tutored in some principles that he had to withstand oppression wherever found and offer leadership in times of confrontation with evil. 

He had taken the principled stand in the past, that an offence against one Nigerian student was one against every student. He had assumed a role of mobilising others in the general populace of students. For all his cherished principles he had paid a heavy price. But his life had always never been that simple, it was a complexity of  straddles, of diametrical opposed tendencies, between being in the vanguard of overthrowing the old order and ushering a new socialist and democratic one or simply concerning himself with basic welfare issues on the campus and the general condition of students. 

This day, the oppressive sun’s heat, however, presented a varied form of challenge. In his futile bid to resist it the drippings emerged from the bald patch on his head now resembling a lake surrounded with shrubs. The drippings transformed into a drench and then the inevitable soaking of sweat followed as he trod purposively away from the Administrative buildings into the inner recesses of the campus.

The University terrain and its buildings appeared very deceptive and concealed within it a prettying.  Its structures were in dippings of pure white, glazed over with subtle blue at the edges. In Obad’s imagination, edging on the febrile, he thought with impression that this was a successful attempt at distinctiveness and of branding. What he conceptualised as he walked through the lanes are structures which at first glance presented a compact row. But as he was enticed further, inching bit by bit into the depth of its bowels the revelation of much beauty, complexity, intrigue and the variety of its architecture was exposed to him.

The University campus was broken up by the lows and heights of valleys, shadowed by hills in the background and with an undulating expanse of land before him. In the inner core, the under belly, a stadium broke up the architecture, it was surrounded and bounded with spectator stands.

Obed was jolted back to the land of the pragmatic as he arrived at the Faculty of Law, drenched in sweat with his black suit top slung across his shoulder, and clutching his academic laurels masquerading as credentials. Here he found the grandest of buildings and was catapulted into a nicely apportioned ground floor arranged into offices and seminar rooms all sequestered around with iron bars glazed in blue to protect its open courtyard. He proceeded with feeble attempts laced in weariness up along the staircase leading to the Faculty Dean’s office. He swept past the Personal Assistant and found the Dean nestled in the large expansive office with smatterings of law books in the background. With certainty of purpose and carefully affected sentences Obed introduced himself.

A Sojourners Return

Didactic Intervention…..

After a busy week of trundle, of lectures and other research oriented activities, he glanced at an opportunity to take some recess from the ivory tower and venture into the town. A lecture had been put up to celebrate the birthday of a past President.  Students were invited to participate in a debate to grace the occasion and members of staff were required as a complement. The debate was to dwell on security and terrorism, twin issues that had ravaged the landscape. Obad thought it was his opportunity to re-acquaint himself with the grand old man and perhaps a feature in the spotlight may occur.  He angled for an invitation and was chosen as one of the lecturers to travel with the students.

The arrival at the edge of the historic town after a two-hour journey in the University coach led them to a complex of buildings called the Presidential Library. He observed that the Library mimicked the tradition of former American Presidents. It was a tradition, which allowed them to cement their legacies and to stand their achievements as a monument to their impact.  However, Obad saw through it all and ruminated in wide space of his mind, thinking the edifices masquerading as Libraries were more of a nod and wink to ego building.  However, in this case, this Library extended as far as providing luxury accommodation, a themed park and other tourist related facilities. It rested on an impressive extent of land with a complex of buildings, which blended seamlessly into one another and complemented the landscape. Its impressive shadow harboured an elevated hilltop, laid out on the heights where the Presidential residence was placed with a cast of a knowing glance at all the activities undertaken within the large and unending plains before the complex.

Later on in the day, after Obad had tucked into a sumptuous selection of breakfast with cups of tea to wet his palate, ensuring a nice slithering effect down the throat, he proceeded to the auditorium.  He sank into the well of the auditorium with the pulsing sounds of the air conditioners in the background whirling away, cooling all the participants.  After a while he got impatient and felt discomfort as the showman part of his character got the better of him. He was weary of playing audience to a number of discussants and debaters and needed to be centre stage.  Obad manically raised his hands and when no notice was taken, contrived with the ushers to send a note to the compere of the event. The contents of the note were simple, he touted his past experience of the subject matter as an ex-student union radical who had encountered the militant vavolent tendencies of the police and was now reformed, that he alone could shed more practical light on the topic for the day.  The gambit worked, and in a jiffy, he was invited to the lectern to speak for two minutes.

At the lectern with his head affecting a tilt for effect, he grabbed the lectern and gazed intently into the eyes of the President and strayed fleetingly to other VIPs. He launched into his contribution, identified the curious co-incidence of having been classmates to the children of the two distinguished men in the audience and then dipped into the substance of his comments. He recalled that he was a child of experience, an ex revolutionary, one who strayed into vavolent radicalism to accomplish his perceived aims.  He added that his unique experience provided him the credence to be on that stage.

He proffered a solution to the crises of the youths, and how to avoid cultic related activities.  He was quite certain that it was the mentoring of University Professors that led him out of the cul de sac of mindless Aluta into where he was today. He argued that the setting in place effective mentoring in universities is certainly a way forward to address prevailing concerns.  All these were captured in precisely the two minutes allotted. As dramatically as he started he ended to an explosion of applause as he collapsed into the plushness of his seat.  In his concluding remarks, the President requested Obad rise up to another round of applause and praised his contributions with suggesting it be adopted. That sent him into the stratosphere, cloud 9, to which it took days to recover."

Nigeria: Sleepwalking Into an Economic Inferno

As the recent days have slithered by, merging one into another I have found myself dwelling in and out of various social media handles, specifically twitter. The fog of war brought about the by Convid 19 and its aftermath have not prevented my tweets from straying to thoughts of sleepwalking.  I have not suddenly taken to sleepwalking in my middle age but the paragraphs below might make this clearer.

My conceptualisation of sleepwalking brings me to the understanding that it is formally known as somnambulism and is a behaviour disorder that originates during deep sleep and results in walking or performing behaviours of varying complexity whilst asleep. It is said to be much more common in children than adults and is more likely to occur if a person is sleep deprived. I wonder why this uncannily reminds me of the experience of most of our governance in the last few decades.

It is over four decades ago an attempt was made to rouse the nation's leadership from slumber with an alarm of a looming economic recession. An alarm sounded in December 1981 by Chief Obafemi Awolowo. The Chief was then the leader of the opposition Unity Party of Nigeria (UPN). He had scripted an open letter to President Shagari warning about the "Ship of State which was set for the iceberg" meaning Nigeria's economy was headed for the rock. President Shagari and his party men would have none of such criticism. In fact, Chief Adisa Akinloye, the ruling National Party of Nigeria (NPN) chairman, immediately took off to London to address an elaborate press conference where he suggested the world should not mind the frustrated and ambitious Awolowo, claiming Nigeria economy was sound and healthy.

The government of President Shehu Shagari further described it as the ranting of an alarmist. Two months later in February 1982 Nigeria sleep walked into a recession. By April 1983, the National Assembly passed an Economic Stabilisation Act, which gave President Shagari emergency powers to deal with the nation's economic trouble. Alhaji Shagari failed woefully in his management of the alarm with dire consequences ensuing. In subsequent years it was followed by Major General Muhammadu Buhari’s Austerity Economic Measures and  General Ibrahim Babangida’s Emergency Economic Plan.

In 2020 we really have not had many men or ladies of the stature of Awolowo whose voices have arisen above the din to sound an alarm nor are the array of tweets and articles in the media space given much credence or mention. The closest to the sound of an alarm are the noisy cymbals of pots and pans inspired by Omoyele Sowore to draw attention to hunger in the land, a creative mode of protest in the face of the lockdowns we face in this pandemic. 

In the past Nigerians like Ayodele Awojobi, Chike Obi, Olubunmi Okojie, Chinua Achebe, Wole Soyinka, Bala Usman, Tai Solarin, Claude Ake, Gani Fawehinmi distinguished themselves by performing the essential ritual of ‘speaking truth to power’ and sounding the alarm. However, with the gradual passing away of their generation (once described as wasted by Wole Soyinka) sleepwalk appears to have taken hold.

The genesis of our alarm is the near shut down of the global economy resulting from the twin effects of Convid 19 Pandemic and oil crises, which has impacted on the price of oil the mainstay of Nigerian economy. The budget was predicated on crude oil production of 2.18mbpd; oil price benchmark of 57 dollar per barrel, Exchange Rate of N305 to US$1; Gross Domestic Product (GDP) and Inflation Rate of 2.93 per cent and 10.81 per cent respectively. A deficit of over N2.2 trillion was projected which was supposed to be covered up by borrowing. 

But as if to encapsulate the sleepwalking theme our Finance Minister in the face of the collapsing oil prices and 40% reduction in revenue, attempted a revision of the budget.  The effort which came off as a damp squib presented a projection of $30 per barrel as the new basis and shed over N320 billion of spending, leaving a projected deficit of N5.18 trillion. Indeed 20% of capital projects were slashed and yet the unsustainable petroleum subsidy over more than 1 trillion naira remains untouched. The N128 billion budget of the National Assembly remains unscathed; N4.8 trillion in recurrent expenditure remains largely intact when you consider only N25 million was hived off.

Wind back the hands of the clock to 1982 when National Assembly passed an Economic Stabilisation Act, giving the President emergency powers to deal with the nation's economic woes nothing of the sort is contemplated in the face of an impending economic inferno. It appears it is still essentially business as usual.  Usually economic crises presents government an opportunity to be radical in its measures. United Kingdom, years ago faced an economic crises because of its ballooning deficit, largely derived from massive borrowing to address the 2008 global economic crises. The incoming Conservative government of David Cameron used it as an opportunity to shrink the British State considerably.

Today in Nigeria we need to be roused from the deep slumber, move away from cosmetic and lethargic responses and seek radical solutions.  Why do we continue to fund our National Assembly at an unsustainable level with unsustainable allowances? Why do we continue to incur so much waste at the Executive level? The radicalism will be to propose a reduction of the National Assembly budget, slashing all their allowances, extending same to the Executive. To bring about constitutional amendments to create a unicameral legislature out of the present and reduce the number of Ministers. Address the issue of petroleum subsidy; revise the revenue allocation to move money away from the centre towards to states. We must also explore innovation that brings about an increase in revenues.   Whilst it is certain that stiff and sustained opposition will arise from the National Assembly and other invested interests, the government if it finds boldness blended with radicalism will find that Nigerian people are on its side.  I am afraid that without a radical response from President Buhari we are likely to be all consumed by the inferno the collapse of our economy will bring.

Olu Ojedokun, PhD. writes from Ibadan

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