ktravula – a travelogue!

Browsing the archives for the Opinion category.

Non-Pretty Telecom Ramblings

It wasn’t always likely that I would have spent half a year in one of the world’s biggest telecommunication’s markets – the United States of America – without a mobile phone. Surely, six months ago, I couldn’t have envisioned my current position. Two feet away from my left hand at this moment is a telephone that could only remind me of Nigeria. Not even the current day Nigeria, but the Nigeria of 1990. The telephone is hooked into the wall via a transparent cable. It has a dialing pad attached to the receiver, and it doesn’t have an answering machine, and it has a coiling cord that always used to give me nightmares. The last time I came across a phone with this kind of winding cable connecting the receiver to the box was in my grandfather’s house in the early to mid-nineties when we made the best of times by making prank calls to local Fire and Police Stations telling them of a raging fire. I therefore could not immediately believe when I walked into my designated apartment back in August that I was indeed in the United States of America. It was a kind of culture shock to come in contact with a land line phone of this ancient kind. There is usually a three-lettered abbreviation to respond to this kind of encounter. I went with OMG!

Cut to six months later, I am surprised to have survived it. My little nephews and nieces who are used to Nigeria’s now ubiquitous mobile phone services might be shocked now to see that phones exist in this kind of form. The only reason I can think of why I backed down from my promise to buy myself one of either the Samsung Omnia, the Nokia Maemo, the Apple iPhone, the Palm Pre, the Google HTC or the Blackberry among so many others new inventions competing for attention then was the contract system that made it a prerequisite that one had a payment plan with a major telecommunications network before getting a good smart phone. No can do, I said to Apple, which was my very first choice, and effectively walked away from the rest of them. There was no way I could sign up for a two year plan when my programme was going to end in eleven months. For phone calls home therefore, I depended on Skype, and Rebtel. For text messages, there was Skype, and my good old smart Nokia that followed me from across the ocean. For calls within campus, there remained my good old ancient line now hooked to the wall. It works just fine except I manage to step out of the room when the incoming call rings.

Needless to say, the non-possession of an American-network-powered mobile phone has never failed to generate very long conversations within friends and acquaintances whenever I bring it up. “Why don’t you just buy one of those little mobiles that you can recharge and use at will without a contact? Walmart has them,” I’ve been told. “I just can’t care less,” I respond, “In Nigeria, you can just walk up to any shop and buy a sim card without a contract, then buy the kind of smart mobile phone you want and still get all the services you require; a service you can walk away from at any time without loss. In America, it’s well almost an impossibility without a certain discomfort. Even the new iPad comes with the prerequisite of an AT&T contract. I mean what kind of exclusivity is that? Thankfully, I have been able to do without them all. Not like my friend Vera however. Read what she has to say about a phone contract with T-mobile. It is not just the figures, but the whole thing about a contract that just ticks me off.

It is just the sorry sight of this land line on my bed that reminds me of why Nigerians quickly got rid of the military government, and welcomed a civilian one. Today, even for “third world” Nigeria, I would never buy a phone like this. Not when I can buy the new contract-free Google Nexus combine it with an MTN simcard that costs less than a dollar. This sight reminds me of why I am a true ghoul in the forest!

PS: Amount so far raised via KTravulaid for Jos, for Haiti = $230, out of which $100 has already been sent to Jos. Thanks to Dee, Clarissa and Tee.

Adventures in (Dis)honesty

There’s no reason why I should be impressed, really. This is how things should be in a normal society. But I guess that the event has sufficiently moved me to write about it only because a few months ago, an even far less careless slip had cost me so much more. What happened then was that I had gone to Six Flags for the first time, with friends, and at some point decided that I would join some of them in swimming. Now my small point-and-shoot Canon camera has always had a spot in its pouch around my waist. My belt always held it firm, and it was easier to bring out at the slightest notice of any memorable sight. Then I had to remove my jeans in public since none of us wanted to go into the locker rooms. We were all outside, beside a tall tree full of leaves. The process must have been: remove shoes, remove socks, unbuckle belt, unbuckle jeans, remove jeans, take everything off the ground and proceed to the pool. Approximately thirty seconds later, when I must havhollye taken not more than twenty steps from that spot, it struck me that my camera was missing, and there was only one place where it could have been: that spot outside the locker room. I went back there and it was missing, for good. I made a report, asked around, hoped and prayed, even searched Craigslist for lost items, but I didn’t get it back. It wasn’t so much for the camera but for the photos in it. In any case, there was no reason for me to have hoped that such a crowded public place like Six Flags would have been a safe place to leave a camera for that long, even for less than a minute. It kind of reminded me of some places in Lagos.

That could be why I may have been impressed when I arrived in class on Wednesday and found that my iPod earphones were still on the front table, exactly where I had forgotten to take it off from after the class on Monday. I have tried to rationalize it this way: the table is used mostly by Professors when they stand in front of the class, and it is not likely that any Professor would fancy a used $30 Apple earphone that doesn’t belong to them. I made a similar rationalization for the many students who had used the class between 3pm on Monday and 1.30pm on Wednesday, yet I did not doubt that a few of them must have noticed it lying there idly seemingly belonging to no one, and just ignored it. I should really not have been impressed. Nothing extraordinary has happened, right? Wrong. Right. I have no idea, but I am not taking up the challenge of my now mischievous self to make an experiment with my iPod classic. Place it carelessly in a public spot and come back after two days to see if it’s still there. That stuff cost me $250!

One of the very first things Papa Rudy told me the first day he gave me his bike to take home was this: “Never ever forget to lock the bicycle up whenever you’re outside, cos they’re gonna steal it. That’s why I’ve given you a lock with it.” He spoke in earnest and I did not doubt his conviction for a second that the bike would be stolen if I ever left it outside the house without fastening it properly with a solid lock. The second time I heard this kind of talk was from Holly Ruff, my friend the artist. It was Halloween night. According to her, all the times her bicycles had been stolen, it has always been on Halloween nights, and not always because she didn’t lock them properly. People always seemed bolder on that prank night that they get away, it seems, with anything. For that, she had warned me sternly to not think about coming out of the house with my bicycle – lock or no luck – for that one night. Last week when Mafoya and I went to the swimming pool with Ben, I went with a lock in my bag. But when we were putting our stuff in the available lockers in the gymnasium locker room, Ben looked at me calmly and said, “You don’t have to worry about that. Nobody’ll mess with your shit,” and I sighed, then smiled. My “shit” included a passport, an iPod, my wallet and cards, my camera and some cash, so I shrugged and locked it firmly away anyway. It felt better to be safe than sorry, but we both came back to find our things still intact. I remember having lost my bike helmet on campus more than two times since August. I always found it at the same spot where I left it, untouched. It might be safe to say that this campus environment is generally a safe one for personal items.

The last time it snowed here, I had gone out for a walk behind my apartment when I noticed a mobile phone in the snow around a series of small footsteps that went out towards the parking lot. Nobody else in sight, and the phone wasting away in the snow, I picked it up and took it into my apartment. Later in the evening, I told Mafoya about it, and we both waited for the owner to show up. He did about seven days later while I was out, and was very grateful that someone had kept his mobile phone for him even though he had no idea where he had lost it. He was a teenager or so. Now, I wonder whether, like me at the sight of my earphones lying there on the table, he was impressed that nobody had taken the item and made it theirs. Perhaps he was relieved, and grateful, that it didn’t take him too long to locate his property after countless calls to the number and no one answering. (I’d left it in the living room and I always missed the calls, not deliberately.) Or perhaps he took it for granted as a contented citizen, believer in the power of good: “Nobody needs another person’s phone anyway. This is America. Everyone has their own mobile phones…”

I would never know, because I never met him.

We’re No Longer At Ease

Here is the text of an open letter released by Nigerian Writers in reaction to the current political situation in Nigeria. Over thirty writers have currently signed up to the letter which has this morning been released to the media. It calls on concerned Nigerians to add their signature, and support, in a comment box beneath. You can also listen to and download an audio version by clicking on this link: audio. I support this because I think it represent some of the best aspirations of all Nigerians in pursuit of happiness, good health, success, and aspiration for country worthy of its name and one that lives up to its potentials. I like the introductory paragraph, especially.

An Open Letter from Nigerian Writers

Nigeria’s failure to make the progress commensurate with 50 years of nation-building is not just a failure of leadership. It is first and most catastrophically, a failure of followership.

As ordinary Nigerians, we have failed to create an environment where good leadership can thrive. By glamorising fraud and ineptitude, we have created a country hostile to probity. Our expectation from Government House is mediocrity, so that good government surprises us pleasantly and excellence continues to amaze us. Instead of an environment of accountability, we have fostered sycophancy. We have been content to follow every stripe of leader, from the thief to the buffoon. The consequence is that for months we have been happy to be ruled even in absentia.

Today, we say, no more.

Protest is not a dirty word. Even babies have a voice, long before they learn language or discernment. The child that is too docile to cry when it hungers or ails might die in the hands of the most benevolent mother. A leadership, however benevolent, requires an intelligent, demanding, and courageous followership to excel.

It is the responsibility of every Nigerian to voice the legitimate expectations of nation and to establish the standards to which our leaders must be held. We must expect great things from this country, so we must look for the leaders who can deliver. There is an acceptable standard of leadership, and then there is an unacceptable standard. We must honour leaders who excel, and censure leaders – at every level, and in every arm of government – who betray our trust.

If failure is not censured, there is no incentive in pursuing excellence. If sacrificial leadership is not recognised, then leaders of merit will not come forward, and the heroes in our cenotaphs will be the very architects of our failure as a nation. Although we are justly famous for our generosity of spirit, for our ability to forgive and forget the gravest transgressions, Nigerians must also now boldly condemn the errors of leadership, and end the complacency that has brought us so low as a country. The only reason for the existence of political leaders is to offer service to nation. Leadership is not an end in itself. It is a privilege to serve your country; leadership is not a right to be served by your country.

Today, Nigeria stands on a precipice. Behind us is a history that can push us, irrevocably, over the brink. Yet, we are writers. If we bring anything collectively to society, it must be the imagination and the inspiration to bridge impossible gulfs. Today, we must plumb our history, not to evoke despair, but to inspire resolve. Today, we call on Nigerians to hold hands across the trenches of our deep divisions and, somehow, find the resolution to dream again. Let us, as ordinary Nigerians, reject the ethnic fictions that local despots have used to colonise this country over the past five decades.

Let us dream a simple dream made fantastic by our present circumstances. Let us dream of a Nigeria that works, that evokes pride, and that inspires faith. Let us dream of a Nigeria of servant-leaders and sacrificial statesmen, a Nigeria which calls the best characteristics out of ordinary men and women. Let us call on that capacity for renewal to bring opportunity out of this crisis.

Let us recreate the excitement – and the possibilities – with which we approached the Independence Day of 1960. In 50 years, the resources and destiny of this great country have been hijacked by private carpetbaggers and adventurers. Let us take back the sanctity of our polls. Let us rejuvenate the recall process. Let us police our resources, our leadership. We must liberate Nigeria anew. Today, we must take back our country.

As writers, the past and the future are fertile fields for the work of our imagination. Today, in this love-letter to our nation, we call on all Nigerians to take authorship of our nation’s next 50 years. Our destiny is in our own hands. Shall we write into it a bigger civil war? Another half-century of mediocrity and international disgrace? Then we need do nothing.

But if we, the people of Nigeria, must write an inspirational epic of a humbled nation on her knees, who, breaking free of bondage, soars into the keep of eagles, we must begin by demanding only the best of our leaders. In the days and months to come, we the people must find our voice, our votes, and our true values. And we must make them count.

Thank you.

(Culled from African-writing.com)

Politically Correct?

And so today after a lot of soul searching and repentance of past sins of unpatriotism, I am back with a new list of bumper stickers. This time, they will be nice and politically correct, for those who like to see the good and the positive. Now you have no more excuses for not making them up as banners or stickers and putting them on your cars, mugs, shirts, doors and fridges.

The current news, as dumb as it is is that Nigerians, along with other nationals “of interest” will now be subject to more more enhanced searches at airports. It’s dumb not only because it attacks the symptoms of a disease and not the diseases itself while casting the “doctor” in a very bad light in the sight of his patients and colleagues, but because it also seeks to create more enemies – or at least, less friends, inadvertently. The fact of the matter is that “enhanced” airport searches have never solved any problems. Never ever. It only humiliates the guests, and breeds mutual suspicion. Before this December incident, every passenger on American planes have had to remove their shoes, belts and jackets before boarding. The terrorist got wise up and took to using the underwear. If we’re asked to remove our underwears at airports now, the person determined to cause havok will simply think of new means to do so. What’s more, Nigeria has never been a state sponsor of terrorism, so what’s the point? If I were an Al-Qaeda strategist, I would be thinking like this today: this would be a very good time to shift attention off of Nigeria, Yemen and Pakistan to other poor countries of the world where we can recruit impressionable kids like Umar Muttalab for our next attack. Thankfully the new TSA requirements in the US does not include full body searches for those other countries at the moment. With any chance, we’ll get this one through, and take a few thousand lives. Duh! Why am I the only one thinking out of the box? Is it just because I’m from Nigeria, or because it’s true?

Now here are the bumper stickers you should see:

I am a Nigerian. I have words for “kill”, “maim” and “slaughter” in my local languages, but none for “terrorism” and “terrorist”, and none for “snow”. What does that tell you?
I’m a Nigerian, one of the happiest people in the world. Going to heaven now is the least of my aspirations.
I’m a Nigerian. I do not need to make a point with my life when Jesus has already done so.
I am a Nigerian. America needs not be afraid of me. I’m still trying to get her visa. (Thanks Yemi)
I’m a Nigerian and not a terrorist. I have other things to worry about.
I’m a Nigerian. If I can’t lay down my life for my country, why would I give it up for your militant God?

… among many others that, again, we can make up as we go along.

But the bumper stickers probably won’t make sense right now that in another dumb development, the country’s elected representatives have resolved to sever ties with the United States unless it takes the country’s name off the list of the United States’ top security watch list. What? They even gave an ultimatum. Talk of misplaced priorities. Talk of silliness in top government circles. Talk of pouring scarce fuel on an already open but unwanted fire. Whatever happened to silent, common-sense, underground diplomacy? Now, more than the Mutallab incident on Christmas day, this is one news item that makes me ashamed, not of my country, but of its leaders/rulers. And this comes just when I thought I could be optimistic for once. Shame!

Politically Incorrect

I was not too surprised when I checked out the Facebook group created to denounce the Nigerian Terrorist today and found that from a meagre 700 members on Friday when I first blogged about it, there are now over 56,o00 members on the group. This is very nice, right?. Very impressive. It shows that we care about the implication of this unscrupulous scandal, or at least about our public image. It is not surprising. We are a patriotic people when something has to do with our image, most of the time. Right? Today on the BBC Focus on Africa, Mr Henry Omoregie, the creator of the group was interviewed for his perspective on the matter. In a matter of days, he has become the voice of “concerned Nigerians” eager to distance themselves from one unthinking act of an idiot. While speaking with my American friend, Chris, a few days after the incident, he told me how impressed he was by the Nigerian reaction. Few days after 9/11, he told me, there were televised celebrations of the event in some parts of Pakistan. Young men went to the streets jubilating that America was being attacked, he says. But in Nigeria, people are rising up to condemn the fool. It shows responsibility, or at least a form of liberality and freedom that is rare in other countries with a multi-religious population, he concludes, and I agree. That was until I heard in a line of comment on the same Facebook group that another Facebook group has been created titled “Free Umar Abdulmutallab. He is not a terrorist!”. I have not been able to find the group page so I am keeping my fingers crossed. But I won’t be surprised if such group now already exists. It’s still a matter of freedom of speech, I guess.

So now that Umar Abdulmutallab has got his fair share of vile from all “concerned Nigerians”, let us return to face the hard truths of the matter. We are not a nation of terrorists, but we have our own mammoth of problems which include poverty, drug trafficking, bad governments, militia unrest and financial crime, which are neither better than terrorism nor good for our global image as well. There are lots of things to do with my time now that the University’s resumption date is still over a week away, and the cold weather has confined the traveller to his now king-sized bed in a cozy Cougar Village apartment so I am discovering humour and satire, both as instruments of social transformation as well as personal coping device against inevitable idleness. Over the past couple of days, I have come up with a theme which would no doubt make some folks wince over there around the Niger river. But they are not just jokes. They are nuggets that should force a re-examination of the current state of the Nigerian polity. Feel free to copy them if you dare, design them with Corel Draw and appropriate caricatures, paste them on your car or shirts, and share them with your Nigerian friends on Facebook. Include, if it makes you feel better, the texts: “KTravula.com’s Politically Incorrect” or “KTravula.com’s Terror Humour“. This is for Nigeria.

After all, self-examination is really the best first cure for most anomalies.

Bumper Stickers You Will Never See

“I’m Nigerian, not a terrorist. I don’t kill people that’re not from another part of my country.”
“I‘m a Nigerian. I kidnap foreigners, but I don’t blow them up. That’s not my style!”
“I’m a Nigerian. I’m a 419 Internet Scam artist, not a terrorist. Don’t spoil my image!”
“I’m a Nigerian. I destroy oil pipelines, not airplanes.”
“I’m a Nigerian. Whenever we blow ourselves, we are actually coming, not going.”
“I’m a Nigerian. I smuggle cocaine, heroine and weed in my pants. Not explosives!”
“I’m a Nigerian. I would kill and die for political positions, not for martyrdom.”
“I’m a Nigerian. I murder for tribe, and not for cause. I can never make a good terrorist!”
“I’m a Nigerian. The only virgins I want are the ones I can marry, or make into mistresses.”
“I’m a Nigerian. I get my virgins before they head out to Italy. They’re not in Yemen, or Heaven.”
“I’m a Nigerian. The only cause I support is the one that fills my tummy, not blow off my junk!”
“I can never blow myself (up) to save my life. I’m a Nigerian, and not a terrorist!”

There could be many more ways to make them more sarcastic, and if possible, more biting. The more acerbic, the better. Talk about subversive self-humour! I would recommend this beyond the usual cry for the head of Abdulmutallab which by now should be nearing its climax. When all is said and done, it is who we are that would matter as we return to our routine lives in the course of the coming weeks and months. What will stand the test of time? Do we move forward in some way or do we return to the inner inequalities and lesser evils that make this particular case just a case of the first among equals of evil?

NOTE: This post is meant to be throughly politically incorrect, so I would not be expecting nor accepting any pats on the back this time.

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