ktravula – a travelogue!

the Nigerian Ghoul in an American Forest

A Son of the Rocks

or Narratives Around My Childhood, a guest-post by Ibukun Babarinde, a Nigerian published poet, and friend. His first collection of poems is titled Running Splash of Rust, a sort of journeying around Ibadan and its human landscape. He sends this from Wolverhampton, United Kingdom, and he can be found on Facebook. Enjoy.

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One of the questions that troubled my young days was the mystery behind the enthralling view of the top of the rocks that peeped into the sky lines over my home town, Saki. There are many mountains towering into the sky in the town, and all of them stood in different positions. Their view like an alluring drama set, offer different scenes and sights at different time of the day, and also different views throughout the seasons of the year. The most fascinating to me is the morning view of the mountain tops, especially in foggy and hazy weather conditions. The cloud formation on the mountain would literarily make the mountain top look as though it had poked into the heavens.

On sunny afternoons, a clear view of the mountain appears in the brightness of the tropical sun, and the scanty vegetation along the mountain steep would flaunt its greenness and all together a very lovely scene to view.
The most prominent of the mountains is the Asabari, Asabari is believed to be to Saki as what Olumo Rock is to Abeokuta. History had it that the people of Saki had sought refuge in the Asabari in times of war, another rock of equal relevance is the Oloogun rock, but with a singular distinguished attribute, it is only natives of Saki that are allowed to climb the Asabari, while Oloogun accommodates every one.

Other mountains and rocks also exist; Isia, Otun, Aganran, Efun, Sangote, Ayekale, Ofeefe. These rocks sit in places as though they are survey pillars mapping the whole Saki town into quarters.

At different times of the year and season some of the mountains are worshiped, the tradition of the town ascribed some element of deity to the mountains. But to me, every day I worshiped them.

Some Christian sect also do their picnics and some other spiritual gathering on one of the mountains, they had some kind of legacy in a particular mountain called ‘Oke Adagba’ the Baptist missionaries had settled on the mountain side, and left some old college buildings and beautiful premises behind. Every Easter, all Christians in the town would gather on the mountain from morning to evening, in simulation of the Galilee where Jesus met His disciples before he ascended into heavens.

As I moved from one junior class to the other in my early school days, I had a profound preference for chairs by the window side, so that I could view of the mountains any time I wanted to. I had very close view of the Isia rock, and at quite a distance, the view of Adagba rock which has the pinnacle of the first Baptist church towering out of dark of its evening shadow.

By evident reasons, I chose to go to Ayekale Community High School, as though to retrace my ancestry. The school was built in a valley, with the Oloogun rocks on the hind side, Ayekale rocks merging into ofeefe rock, at left and front. The secondary school had a small entry road, steeply and winding, as though folding into a valley. I spent the first two years of my secondary education in this school environment before I was snatched away by the city life.

One of the most fascinating and point of my attachments to this environment is the echo that naturally occurs as a result of reverberations caused by the guardian rocks. Even now, I still remember how the period bells in the school would resound, echoing twice or more, and how the voice of the then school principal, Mr. Afonja would be snatched by the waves hovering over the valley.
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You can find previous guest-posts here. Thank you Ibukun!

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Call for Submissions

I got this yesterday. A few of my works were published in the first issue, and I am on the editorial board as a guest contributor.

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This is to announce the call for submissions for the second edition of the Sentinel Nigeria literary magazine due out on May 15th 2010. We are accepting submissions in the categories of Prose, Poetry, Drama, Essay and Literary Criticism. If your work is original and distinct, if you feel you should be in the avant-garde of writing – then the Sentinel Nigeria Magazine is your natural proving ground.

Full information about the call at the link below

http://www.sentinelnigeria.org/submission-guidelines.php

or contact the Administrator/Editor-in-chief

Richard Ugbede Ali at Richard.ali@sentinelnigeria.org
Phone number: (+234)8062392145

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A Beautiful Day, Still

Spring has (un)officially begun where I am, and you can tell. You can tell from the energy of the geese, the rustle of leaves, the glare of the sun and the coolness of the wind. The trees haven’t got their leaves back, but from this change of weather, we know for sure that Spring is on its way. It is here. I went out yesterday and felt the glare of the sun. For the first time in months, I saw so many people outside. At the lake behind my residence, there were at least two people fishing because the lake is not frozen anymore. It now runs like a fresh spring. It is beautiful. But, it is still fifteen degrees celcius. In Nigeria that is the temperature at Christmas. I told someone that and he laughed uncontrollably. Yes, it is hot for you Americans.

It is a fine day, and I like it very much. I won’t wear thermal pants or closed shoes anymore, and I can stay outdoors lying on the grass with my back to the floor and my face turned up to heaven for as long as I want, as long as this feeling remains, almost like another Christmas in the month of March.

Welcome Spring. We’ve been waiting for you.

At least something to take the mind off the horrible images of carnage reeking across from the distance of the Atlantic!

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Jos!

“I am Nigerian, not a terrorist. I do not kill people that are not from other parts of my country.” – from Politically Incorrect (January 1st 2010)

When I served the country Nigeria in the mandatory one-year National Youth Service in a little village close to the city of Jos in 2005, the state still had as its motto “The Home of Peace and Tourism” even though there was always a shadow of violence looming in the corner and in every conversation. In September 2001, four years before I arrived there, there was one of the bloodiest bouts of violence between the Hausa-Fulani “settlers” and “indigenes” of the state and when the smoke cleared, there were over a thousand people dead, home and businesses destroyed. In a few months, things always returned to normalcy but there was always the shadow of looming violence. Nobody knew when it would raise its ugly head or what its trigger would be. But it was always there.

Read Jos, a city torn apart a report by the Human Rights Watch in 2001

In May 2004, a few months before I got my deployment papers to travel over 800km from my base to Plateau State, there was another bout of killings in Yelwa, the southern part of the state in which over 700 people died. There is a report of it here. In all of these cases, the failure of government has been the biggest cause of that much carnage. In all cases, the violence has spread and caused irreparable havoc before the agents of state showed up. And in some cases, when they eventually showed up, they took sides and went beyond their call and did some extra-judicial killings of their own. Of all the ills of a badly run government, the biggest most disappointing crime is to be found guilty of taking sides and complicating the already messed up situation and not bringing to justice the perpetrators of previous crimes.

While I was in Riyom, a short distance from the state capital of Jos, I lived in relative shelter from the political realities of the town, but only to the extent of actual violence that eventually took place in some other parts of the state even while I was there. I was not sheltered from the conversations and the anger. For many who lived in my parts of the state, the problem of the state was not only fuelled by religion, but also by a political and economic undertone. Who were the indigenes and who were the settlers. To most who had an opinion, the Hausa-Fulani cattle herders had come from the North to take over the land from the Plateau indigenes of a different tribe and way of life. Plateau state is one of Nigeria’s most linguistically and ethnically pluralized state, yet Hausa is a language spoken by all in addition to local languages. In Riyom where I lived, the language was Berom. Yet, they never saw themselves as Hausa-Fulani and always seemed to be fighting against a perceived dominance of the language and culture of the “settlers”.

In Nigeria today, this issue is sadly one of the biggest threats to survival. Not just religion, but a politics of ethnic domination, mistrust and well, ignorance/arrogance. And because of that, a lush area of the nation that could as well have laid claim to being the best place to live in the country because of its climate, history and people is entangled in a burning fire with over three hundred people dead, mostly women and children in a reprisal attack. In an ideal federation, there should never be a limit on where one wants to live, as long as one can respect the rules of the land which are fair and just. The religious dimension to this crises is just as unfortunate as it is saddening. Yet, THERE IS NO GOD IN THAT VIOLENCE! If He is, then it is high time we removed him from all affairs of state because this is not one of his best public statements of eternal goodness. The case in Plateau state as well as many other volatile regions in the country – including many in the south as well -is the distrust that comes from ethnic affiliations. When it becomes tied to economic and political survival, hell is let loose – especially in the absence of a moderating influence of a trusted agent of state.

Today, I am enraged like everyone else wondering how we got here and wondering where we go from this cycle of violence. More than prayers for the family of victims, we need a more responsible and responsive government just as much as we need better education for all. And as deterrent, all culprits in the killings must be brought to book, and to justice. If international intervention is needed, let us have it. Those who kill fellow citizens do not deserve to live among us if they deserve to live at all. There is nothing that should stop Hausa-Fulani cattle herders from living and prospering in Jos or in any part of Plateau State, and neither should there be a threat to the practice of Christianity, Islam or any religion by any indigene of the state. What we should fight against is the threat of domination or force. The sky is big enough for birds to fly, as the proverb says. For years religions have lived alongside each other without any threat of violence. What has changed? Yes, politicians and the elite have exploited the differences to their own advantages even at the expense of lives and property of innocent women and children. Well, enough is enough!

On March 16, there will be a rally of Nigerian youths to remind the government why it matters that things are done properly. I cannot attend, but will be there in spirit. For once, I wish I could suggest that the rally takes place in Jos Plateau rather than in Abuja, at least in solidarity with the forces of good. In my case, I do intend to go back to the state when I’m back in Nigeria. I still have friends there, many of whom I’m still in touch with. I will be going with a big camera and I intend to visit new places that I didn’t get to see in my first visit. It is not just a huge sense of loss and sadness that moves me so, it is also a sense of disappointment, and such a wasted chance of nationhood as exemplified by Jos, formerly “the home of peace and tourism.” What’s more, there are hundreds of Youths deployed to the state now on the mandatory National Youth Service whose life is being put on the line without adequate security. The last time there was a crisis of this proportion, at least one member of the Youth Corp was killed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Shame! Shame! Well, that too has to change!

My last bout of this much outrage was at the Nigerian terrorist Umar Farouk, and it produced some deprecating politically-incorrect writings in which I had joked darkly: “I am a Nigerian, not a terrorist. I don’t kill people who are not from my part of the country.” Well, here is exactly what I meant at that time. And this is why the world at large needs to respond and direct attention to Jos, Nigeria NOW before it gets even more out of hand and we produce another international terrorist. The culture of impunity must stop and the killers be brought to book.

Read more on the news story on the BBC.

PS: Please never stop praying. And if you can, please send money to the Red Cross which is still organizing relief efforts for survivors and the wounded. It is a sad day for humanity. One more thing – for Nigerians in the United States, please badger the Western Union on Facebook and on Twitter until they make it free to send money from the United States to Jos during this trying period. They need to know how grave it is. They did it for Haiti, they did it for Chile. Now is the time to demand same for Jos which is as well a terrible humanitarian crisis situation. You can make requests by writing on the wall of their Facebook page, and sending a tweetline to make said request. Western Union has been known to respond to humanitarian needs around the world.

(Photos from the website of the Human Rights Watch and the Anglican Diocese of Jos. Warning: gruesome images!)

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Re: Her First Story

When Jolaade read the post she asked “What of my second story? What do you wish for your brother mummy?”.

When I told her what I wish for you, she asked again “You don’t wish to buy any toy for him?”

And much later, “Mummy, if you are just 31 why did you marry somebody?”

She had told me a few weeks back that I am too young to be married!

What manner of 4 and a half year old is this?

This morning, she looked at the wedding picture “Yemi, you didn’t look like this when you had your wedding?”

Me: “How did I look on the wedding day?”

“You look like a princess in the picture, and Leke looks like a prince!”


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International Hospitality Lunch

I spent the last weekend in some bliss which started on Friday with a lunch organized for visiting scholars by my University’s International Programme Office and the International Hospitality Programme. The International Programme Office handles everything that has to do with overseas scholarship and programmes while the International Hospitality Programme is comprised of a group of dedicated Senior Citizens of Edwardsville, some with and some without any academic link to the University, but all with a strong dedication over the years in making international students comfortable. Most of them have been doing it for decades without compensation, and without fail. They provide comfort and succor for students living miles away from home, and give them home away from home. They give counselling, they provide gifts as well as all needed support.

Present at the lunch were new visiting scholars from Albania and Azerbaijan, and a new visitor from the Kenneth Dike Library in Nigeria’s premier University, Francisca Okoroma.

The lunch, and the work of the International Hospitality Programme brings to fore the advantages and need for interdependence and social responsibility. The women and men who parent young students and scholars they’ve never known from parts of the world that they’ve never themselves visited take love, commitment, public service to such a new height. They claim to enjoy the experience, but to the many young ones who have studied in this part of the country over the years and benefited from this group, the dedication of the host parents is nothing short of a blessing. It is one more pleasant advantage of studying in this part of the country.

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