Opinion I Owerri Tricycle Riders, TAXIMO and The Days Ahead

TRICYCLE RIDERS, TAXIMO AND THE DAYS AHEAD

         

The last time I checked, the entire commercial tricycle riders operating within the five-kilometre-radius of the Owerri metropolis had been given till 30^th September 2017 to vacate the said territory. The press release, which was issued by the Imo State government penultimate week, implies that as from the first day of October this year, the concerned commuters would cease to be recognized by the apt authorities.

        

The moment I got the info, the first statement I made was ‘Imo is at it again’. The exclamation was informed by the obvious fact that this is happening barely few days after the revered Ekeukwu Owerre market was eventually relocated amidst several disagreements cum mixed feelings. In fact, if I am opportune to reiterate the exclamation, I would rather say, Governor Okorocha is at it again.

          

It’s noteworthy that the directive was necessitated by the apparent ugly outlook the riders of the affected vehicle otherwise known widely as ‘Keke’ have constituted within the nooks and crannies of the city in question since its inception, thereby showcasing what could best be described as a ‘menace’. It’s not anymore news that in recent times, in terms of traffic congestion, virtually all the tricycle operators have ostensibly become worst than the riders of commercial motorcycle – popularly referred to as ‘Okada’ – that were banned from operating in the city years ago. Notwithstanding, we shouldn’t forget that the Keke has been very helpful to the teeming populace in their day-to-day lives.

          

It is equally worthy of note that the government has already made available Sport cars – to be called TAXIMO – that would replace the about-to-be banned vehicles. The cars are reportedly to be leased to interested commercial drivers on a hire purchase basis at the rate of one million naira. According to the government, if fully implemented, the proposed initiative would tremendously help to restore sanity within the shores of Owerri and its environs.

          

I wish to inform the government ably led by Gov. Rochas Okorocha that the notice is too short for the concerned individuals to properly prepare themselves towards embracing the forthcoming rainy day. On this note, I appeal on their behalf, for the September 30 to be extended to a further date, preferably in December 2017, to enable them be adequately equipped to face the challenges ahead.

        

The short quit notice might not be unconnected with the governor’s leadership mantra that says that the Rescue Mission Administration is ‘in a hurry to develop Imo State’. This kept me pondering over how much in haste is the government towards bringing the said change. However, no matter the intensity of the quest, it must take into cognizance that if the proposed initiative is not well implemented, it would end up causing more harm to the generality of the state than good.

          

No sane and rational being that does not yearn for positive change, but it’s pertinent to understand that the way and manner we go about it would have a great role to play in the long run. It suffices to say that whatever that is worth doing is worth doing well. This, we must not take for granted if truly the interest of Imolites at large is being considered as priority.

         

The proposed one million naira ought to equally be reviewed for the good of the prospective beneficiaries and the Owerri residents in general. Let there be a downward review of the stipulated amount, so they can pay up the debt in time and thereafter be recognized as car owners. This no doubt would go a very long way in increasing their respective daily earnings, thus motivating their individual selves. We need to acknowledge that the amount to be attached to the car would affect the price per passenger to be billed by the drivers.

         

Pricing is indeed a very crucial factor required to be considered while introducing an initiative of such into a system. In this case, the transport sector is in question. Taking Owerri as a case study, it’s worth noting that at the moment, no tricycle rider would charge his passengers more than fifty naira for any drop regardless of the distance. So, any change in this as a result to the incoming initiative would amount to unease among the concerned commuters.

        

The government should also ensure that the cars are enough to replace the number of the affected tricycles. Anything less than this would on the contrary contribute immensely in increasing congestion within the territory, because commuters seeking for commercial transit would overpower the available vehicles.

         

There is as well an inevitable need for the prospective drivers to be placed on an intensive training. The suggested training should inculcate, but not limited to, holistic traffic orientation, driving workshop and day-to-day vehicle maintenance. This would help to imbibe sound culture in them with a view to doing the needful as long as they operate the vehicles within the roads of Owerri.

         

Above all, a special team ought to be set up by the government to ensure proper sustenance of the initiative. Overtime, lack of maintenance culture has contributed immensely in bedeviling various laudable programmes embarked upon by governments at all levels, thus introduction of TAXIMO into the roads of Owerri wouldn’t be an exception. Against this backdrop, I enjoin that whatever team to be inaugurated to oversee the sustainability of this project must comprise experienced stakeholders from all angles including transporters, disciplinarians as well as administrators.

          

Imolites yearn for a project or an initiative that would stand the test of time; a programme that would remain after many years of gracious exit of the Rescue Mission government. This is surely the dream of all, and not mine. Think about it!

 

Comrade FDN Nwaozor

Executive Director, Docfred Resource Hub - Owerri
________________________________

frednwaozor@gmail.com

Twitter: @mediambassador
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ShortStory I Justice At Last

JUSTICE AT LAST

       Who could tell the actual reason the grief-stricken family had chosen to ‘abandon’ his remains? Several months had eventually come and gone, yet no one could tell for sure where his grave would be dug. The deceased’s body that pathetically lay in the morgue could now best be described as debris since the corpse had been relegated to the background by the embalmer owing to lack of payment by the supposed bereaved family.

        Mr. Seun Adegoke left the sinful world four months back. His abrupt mysterious exit was attributed to various evil acts allegedly committed by him. He was struck by thunderstorm in the early hours on a Sunday when he alongside his family was preparing to go to their place of worship.

        The 56-year-old Mr. Seun was till his sudden death happily married to Titi, and the marriage was blessed with four children. The couple could formerly boast of five children – 3 males and 2 females – not until two years back when their first child Kelvin, 24, was brutally killed by an auto crash; Kelvin was in his final year in a university when the ugly incident transpired in a broad daylight while returning from the campus for a semester break.

        Before the said chap departed, series of unforeseen deaths had occurred among the members of the Adegoke family at large. Mr. Seun’s immediate younger brother died at 51 in his farmyard barely three months to Kelvin’s exit. Prior to that, one of his (Seun’s) younger sisters who was married to a business mogul equally lost her first male child via electrocution; among others too numerous to mention. The killings were occurring serially that anyone in the family could be the next; hence, people within and beyond began to wonder what could be the cause of such untold and dreaded incidence.

       “Seun, my brother.” called Mr. Biodun Adegoke as he was seated in a single leather cushion.

        Mr. Biodun was Seun’s elder and only surviving brother; his other two male siblings had passed away in cold blood. The duo were seated in the latter’s home lounge in the late evening on a Saturday. It was exactly the night that preceded the day Seun was murdered by thunderstorm right in his matrimonial room. The former who lived a few meters away had thought it wise, albeit deceitfully, to visit his younger one towards discussing some pertinent issues bordering on their family’s ongoing crisis.

        Seun sat directly adjacent to him in another single upholstery chair. “Egwo mi.” Seun answered tenderly, fixed his gaze on Biodun’s.

         ‘Egwo mi’ meaning literally my elder brother.

        “What is actually happening to our family?” said the 64-year-old Biodun.

         Seun was calm, couldn’t utter a word.

        “Someone dying every minute of the day.” Mr. Biodun rode on. “This is getting very worrisome by the day.”

        “In fact,” said Seun. “I am tired myself.”

        “If you are tired,” responded Biodun. “I am fade up.”

        “Hmmm…” sighed Seun as he sat confusedly in his seat.

         It would interest, perhaps shock you to acknowledge that prior to this moment, Mr. Biodun had already brainwashed most members of the family, stating that Seun was the brain behind all the misfortunes taking place in their family. The false campaign occasioned by hatred was occurring unknowingly to the accused, and no member of the family was convinced enough to openly level the allegation against him. Seun got to know about it just a few days before he passed on but little did he realize that Biodun was the sole sponsor of the campaign.

         Some members of the family were at a point apparently convinced that Seun was a ritualist because the latter was a well-to-do trader and remained the most successful among them, though they pondered why he would use his own son (Kelvin) – who was obviously promising – for a ritual. The lingered scepticism was outrightly buried on the very day the man in question died; based on their custom, it was only persons who indulged in atrocities that could be killed by thunderstorm.

         “What do we do about these atrocities taking place right under our noses?” Mr. Biodun proceeded as he was seated in his seat. “Or, do we wait until it becomes our turn?” He added hesitantly, frowning.

         “God forbid!” Seun exclaimed, became more perturbed.

        There was abrupt silence.

       “I think you are right.” concurred Seun. “We really need to do something about this.” he said, paused. “And very fast.”

       “Thank God you are now reasoning with me.” Biodun appreciated.

       “But,” quoth Seun. “How do we go about it?”

       “Don’t worry,” replied Mr. Biodun. “I think I have a solution.”

       “You do…?”

       “Yes.”

       “So…?”

       “I will get back to you first thing tomorrow morning.” responded Biodun.

         It was that following morning he promised to return to Seun’s house that the latter was struck by the thunderstorm. He actually made it to his house at the early hours of the day as pledged, only to meet his corpse on the tiled floor surrounded by his wife (Titi) and children who were hit off-balance.

        On that fateful day being Sunday, Mr. Seun’s remains were deposited in a nearby morgue. Owing to the mysterious nature that surrounded his eternal departure, everyone far and near – including his immediate family – seemed to be convinced that he was really the brain behind the various misfortunes that befell the Adegoke family. In view of this, upon the directive of Mr. Biodun who was now the only surviving elderly man in the family, the corpse was seemingly forgotten in the morgue.

        Worse still, no money was further deposited to sustain the required embalmment, thus the dead body wasn’t given the due attention it deserved. The wife of the deceased, Titi who would have done so was persuaded by her in-laws to stay away from the corpse until the necessary traditional rites have been conducted. Four months had passed, yet no one could say what the corpse’s fate entailed.

        Two weeks down the line, something terrible but revealing transpired; Mr. Biodun Adegoke was struck by thunderstorm right in his wretched sitting room. Before he gave up the ghost, he confessed to his wife and six children coupled with other members of the extended family that rushed to the scene, that he was solely responsible for all the evil occurrences in the family. According to him, he was the one who projected the thunderstorm that killed Seun so that everyone would believe he (Seun) was the brain behind the misfortunes as he (Biodun) had falsely alleged.

        Thereafter, Mr. Biodun’s remains were thrown to the evil forest whilst Mr. Seun’s were eventually given a befitting burial by the family.

 

FDN Nwaozor

Executive Director, Docfred Resource Hub - Owerri
_____________________________________
Twitter: @mediambassador
http://facebook.com/TheMediaAmbassador

                

      

Opinion I Ekeukwu Owerre, Imo Government And Imolites

EKEUKWU OWERRE, IMO GOVERNMENT AND IMOLITES

         

The last time I checked, the ever famous and revered daily market Ekeukwu Owerre otherwise known as ‘Ekeonunwa’ situated along the ancient Douglas road – reckoned to be the heartbeat of Imo State the Eastern Heartland – had eventually been relocated to more serene areas.

        

The above action was necessitated by the efforts of the state’s government led by Governor Rochas Okorocha toward ensuring that the previous locality of the market – Douglas road – was restructured for the good of all. It would be recalled that since the emergence of the Rescue Mission Administration, there had been a strong determination by the government to relocate the market.

        

And sometime last year being 2016, following deliberations with the concerned stakeholders, a directive was outrightly given by the government to the traders, asking them to relocate to the new sites, which included Egbeada and Avu, in Owerri West L.G.A and Naze in Owerri North L.G.A.

         

The directive was flaunted by the traders owing to many protests staged by the indigenes of the affected area being Douglas road. At the time, their women were seen in thorough black regalia carrying caskets all over the city of Owerri including the axis that leads to the Government House. Their grievance was that if finally relocated to a different locality, they would stand to lose what they described as their ‘birthright’. The occurrence of what could best be described as the reemergence of the ‘Aba women riot’ caused tremendous uproar within and outside the capital territory.

        

Due to the rigorous protests, the government thought it wise to withdraw its directive, thereby considered going back to the drawing board. Just two weeks ago, precisely on Thursday 24^th August 2017, the government further mandated the traders at Ekeukwu Owerre to relocate to the new sites, thus were given a 48-hour ultimatum – meant to expire on Saturday August 26 – to adhere to the instruction.

         

It’s noteworthy that the directive was swept under the carpet by the recipients, or the concerned individuals. Hence, as a result of the stubbornness, the government resorted to employing ‘non-human face’ towards achieving its lofty proposal by firstly ensuring that all the shanties built along the Douglas road were duly demolished without further ado. The action of the government transcended to other uncalled structures located at the aforementioned arena. The point is that, at the moment, the Ekeukwu Owerre has been successfully relocated, although amidst mixed feelings.

       

Why the government decided to take the bull by the horn may not be unconnected with the countless criminalities that were instituted along the Douglas road in recent times. It’s not anymore news that recently criminal activities such as armed robbery, cultism, and what have you, were obviously on the rampage along and within the Douglas axis, thereby making commuters and Imolites in general live in fear especially whenever they found themselves at the affected arena.

         

It’s worth noting that I’m not here to apportion blames or whatever. This piece is candidly informed by the need for us to acknowledge some facts surrounding governance as well as the compelling need to embrace the way forward at such a time like this, acknowledging that many are presently aggrieved over the government’s initiative. It’s pertinent to note that for government to actualize any intending laudable initiative, it must not depend solely on pleading with the concerned individuals to comply with its directive that is in line with its anticipated societal development.             

Sometime, action needs to be taken when the people poses inconsequential stubbornness, especially when the proposed initiative means well for every occupant of the concerned territory. This was exactly what prompted the scene witnessed along the Douglas road two weeks ago.   

        

Though properties were lost in the process, we need to take into cognizance that for a meaningful change to take place, sacrifices must be made. It suffices to say that people must be willing to sacrifice one thing or the other if they truly anticipate something good in their lives. I was in Lagos State penultimate week for a national Convention organized by the National Executive Council (NEC) of the Alumni body of my alma-mater – the Federal University of Technology Owerri (FUTO) – in collaboration with the Lagos Chapter of the organization; the event took place precisely on Victoria Island (VI).

        

During my short stay in the said city, I observed that Gov. Akinwunmi Ambode had brought several changes within the shores of the state. From the look, being someone who was bred in Lagos, and still frequents the state, I needn’t be told that a lot of structures were destroyed in the process. For instance, if you are in doubt, take a trip to Oshodi territory, a popular and highly populated market arena in the city of Lagos, you would comprehend the picture I am trying to paint here. 

         

A very good friend and brother of mine, Mr. Desmond Obi lost a befitting shop – where his beloved wife traded on phones and accessories – at the Douglas road while the action was taken by the government. But rather than complaining bitterly, he confidently told me that he was strongly in support of the government’s move towards changing the pitiable physiognomy of the said arena. According to the seeming patriotic Imolite, Douglas is the heartbeat of Owerri, thus anything that negatively affects it would definitely affect the entire Imo State coupled with its vicinity. Mr. Obi therefore opined that the government motive meant well for all Imolites.

          

Though a few individuals – particularly a ten-year-old boy - reportedly lost their precious lives in the process, I wouldn’t like to start joining issues on this platform since this critique is mainly occasioned by the need for every Imolite to embrace the way-forward. Hence, I sincerely share the pains of the bereaved families. We need to note that no rational and sane government would ever dream of shedding any blood let alone an innocent one, and the Rescue Mission wouldn’t be an exception.

         

Against this backdrop, I urge the government to desist from the act of denying that whatever life that was lost during the faceoff was not connected with the stray bullets fired by the security personnel that were assigned to repel the aggrieved party; rather, it ought to concentrate on how best to please the families of whosoever that lost his life during the period in review. This is time to make amends, and not the reverse.  

          

We must understand that, for peace to reign, we need not continue visiting the injuries incurred along the line, thus I plead with my fellow Imolites who are currently aggrieved to sheath their swords. Why has it abruptly turned to a ‘war’ between two distinct communities as if there’s something they are not telling us? How did we get to this point? Please, let’s not let this misunderstanding escalate to something else. 

          

I enjoin the government to engage on rigorous meetings with the various relevant stakeholders with a sole view to making amends where necessary. Yes, the government has met with the stakeholders after the incident, it must note that no amount of deliberations would be tagged an overdose. Every concerned party must be brought to a round-table discussion without much ado.

           

All in all, everyone must at this point jettison his/her ego towards doing the needful as I implore politicians in the opposition not to use the scenario to achieve their cheap political aims. Imo does not belong to anyone; rather, it remains our collective patrimony. Think about it!

 

Comrade FDN Nwaozor

Executive Director, Docfred Resource Hub - Owerri
________________________________
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frednwaozor@gmail.com

Twitter: @mediambassador

 

 

  

       

                       

ShortStory I Costly Blunder (II)

COSTLY BLUNDER (II)

       Funke who seemed not unlike soured yellow pap packed in an old dish, was speechless as she stood right before the dude, Kunle who just heard the unspeakable.

      “Did I hear you right?” Kunle inquired, still sitting in the three-in-one upholstery chair.

        Funke became mute as she stared unfriendly at him.

        Little did the television, which was being viewed by the lad, knew that it was now all alone; suffice it to assert that no one recognized its presence at the moment as it kept displaying the football match.

      “Funke,” he called calmly. “Did you just say you are pregnant for me?”

       “Of course nah.” she answered frankly, hastily folded her arms. “Didn’t you know when you did it?” she added in a jiffy, fixed her gaze on him.

       “Something I did just once..?”

       “Oh,” exclaimed Funke. “Just once?” she echoed.

       “Of course,” quoth Kunle, furiously stood up. “Wasn’t it once?”

       “I don’t care about how many times you did it.” she ranted. “All I know is that I am pregnant.” She supplemented, paused. “And the baby belongs to you.”

       “You are not serious.” he said. “Are you?”

       “Oh,” responded Funke. “You think I am joking?” she said, stood still. “Do I look like one who is cracking a joke?”

        The last clause came as a shocker, thus he became more bemused as he kept foreseeing the dire consequences having seemingly absorbed the reality. “Oh my God…!” he shouted, frantically resumed his seat.

        There was a brief silence.

       “So,” he broke the muteness. “What do we do now?” he uttered, looking up to her.

       “Now you have come back to your senses, right?” She rhetorically murmured.

        How on earth would she talk to him in that manner if not that he had already sold the unreserved respect she had for his person by allowing his libido to yearn for her seeming-succulent endowments? Notwithstanding, he had no other option than to ignore her rudeness.

       “You have not still answered my question.” He reminded her.

       “What kind of silly question is that?”

       “Silly question?”

       “Of course,” she said. “Doesn’t it sound silly?” she added, paused. “When you were doing it, did you ask how we were going to do it?”

       “You must abort that baby.” He pronounced with alacrity.

       “What..!” she roared. “Me, abortion?’ she uttered, placing her right hand on her chest.

       “That’s the only option.” He thought aloud.

       “I can see, you are joking.” quoth Funke. “How dare you suggest abortion for me?”

       “So, what’s your plan?”

       “I don’t know,” she replied, stood still. “But all I know is that I am not committing any abortion.”

       “So you want to keep the baby, right?’

       “I wouldn’t blame you.” she continued, ignoring the question. “Because you don’t have a baby yet, so you wouldn’t know what it means to kill one.” She said, faced the other side.

       “Funke…!” Kunle exclaimed at the top of his voice. “How dare you say such a thing?” he supplemented, stood up again.

       She was quiet, still standing.

      “Do you realize I am your sister’s husband…?”

      “Sister’s husband my foot.” She interrupted, hurriedly turned her back on him and walked away.

       “Funke, Funke!” he called as she walked out on him.

     * * * * *    

       “Your sister is pregnant.” Kunle notified Kemi, facing the ceiling as they lay in their matrimonial bed in the early hours of Saturday.

       This was coming after several failed persuasions targeted at making Funke terminate the baby she was carrying in her womb.

       Kemi who was equally facing the Polyvinyl Chloride (PVC) ceiling, hastily looked at Kunle on hearing the news that could best be described as a shocker. “What did you say?’ she verified hesitantly.

       “I said, your sister is pregnant.” He reiterated, still facing up.

       “Which of my sisters?” she enquired. “Bisi?” she supplemented, referring to her elder sister who got married recently, though marveled why her hubby should gather the news before her.

        “No,” he responded. “I mean, Funke.”

        “Funke what..?” she shouted, shocked, and slightly raised her head from the bed.

       “Yes.” he said, nodding. “She is pregnant.”

        Kemi couldn’t believe her ears. More confusedly, she could not fathom why her husband should be the one informing her on such development. “For who?” she managed to utter.

         He was silent.

        “I said,” quoth Kemi. “For who?”

        “I think I am responsible.” He eventually confessed, still lay in the bed.

        “You think you are what…? She roared, rose up.

        “I am sorry.” quoth Kunle. “I am really sorry.” he added, paused. “It was all devil’s handiwork.”

        “Enough,” Kemi urged fiercely, gesticulating. “Enough of this.” She warned, paused.

         There was maximum silence.

        “So, after all I did for you,” she broke the muteness. “You had the gut to cheat on me?” she said, paused. “And among all people, you chose Funke?”

          “It’s not what you think.”

          “Spare me that, please..”

          After all the hullabaloos, Kemi asked for a divorce, which was eventually granted by a court, thereby leaving Kunle and her younger sister to continue from where exactly they stopped. Prior to their divorce, when the news of the abominable act got to her parents, they felt like strangulating the parties involved, particularly Funke; Kunle’s aged parents equally felt same.

         Months later, Kemi got married to another lad and she took in immediately after their wedding. Years on, the couple was blessed with children and was happily married.

       On their part, Kunle and Funke who were forced to marry each other never had it so good. Funke had stillbirth in the pregnancy that prompted her elder sister’s departure; and after that, she never took in again. Kunle lost his job with the telecom firm and thereafter couldn’t secure any other meaningful job; needless to assert that his financial status was drastically reduced to zero.

 

Fred Doc Nwaozor

Executive Director, Docfred Resource Clinic - Owerri
___________________________________
Twitter: @mediambassador            
http://facebook.com/TheMediaAmbassador

   

          

 

Opinion I Imolite, Where Is Your Voter's Card?

IMOLITE, WHERE IS YOUR VOTER’S CARD?

        

The last time I checked, the year being 2019 that is expected to usher in yet an interregnum in the Imo State’s Douglas House and the Nigeria’s Aso Rock, was arguably fast approaching on a speed light. Such candid observation needs to be noted by every patriot in the state.

      

Sure, Nigeria – Imo in particular – is currently practising democracy, which is reckoned to be ‘government of the people, by the people and for the people’. However, it’s noteworthy that election is peculiar to democracy. This assertion implies that any democratic society is characterized by elections and what have you. In fact, election begets democracy.

        

If the above analysis holds water, then it is not needful to reiterate the importance of voter’s card. Voter’s card, which is the only document that signifies one’s eligibility during elections, remains a tool that ought to be seen as inevitable by anyone who truly appreciates a democratic setting. This is so, because without a voter’s card, a so-called eligible elector is ostensibly useless at any polling unit while an election is being conducted.

        

It’s really disheartening and disgusting too, to acknowledge that the majority of electors in the contemporary Imo State are yet to regard voter’s card as the only instrument that guarantees one’s eligibility to partake in electioneering decision-making. Owing to this, this set of persons is often marred by apathy whenever voter’s card registration is ongoing, therefore would never bother to know when the registration begins as well as its deadline let alone heading for their respective polling booths to grab their copies.

        

This level of apathy or nonchalant attitude found amongst the electorate, particularly the young ones, has colossally endangered the success of various elections conducted thus far across the state and Nigeria at large. It is baffling to note that often times, most people only go to polling units to engage themselves in all sorts of gossips and frivolities rather than with the aim of casting their votes.

      

When confronted, some of them would proudly tell you that elections are of no use in any part of the country since at the end of the day, rigging would successfully mar the results. They say so, forgetting that rigging can never be possible if it is not aided by them. Of course, it’s not anymore news that election rigging is traceable to the uncalled and ridiculous acts graciously carried out by our able-bodied young ones. The unpatriotic politicians or aspirants would invariably hire these young people in order to snatch ballot boxes containing the ballot papers at various polling units, thereby succeed in rigging the affected election.

        

This, no doubt, signifies that election rigging is being aided by both the electorate and the electoral officials. Yes, the electoral umpire is usually a party to this aberration because in most quarters when reported that the ballot boxes were snatched by a group of thugs, the officials in-charge would still go ahead to declare the results of the election in question. It is saddening indeed to watch such unfortunate situation linger under our noses.

         

Acknowledging this ugly trend, there is a compelling need to aptly educate an average Imolite on the prime essence of possessing a voter’s card. He or she needs to be told, in a language he would comprehend, that it is only a voter’s card that empowers one to elect a candidate of his/her choice at the polls. They must be made to understand that if they failed to grab their voter’s card, there won’t be need to fix or conduct any election within their jurisdictions. They must equally be informed that a voter’s card is the constitutional right of everyone who has attains the age of eighteen (18).

         

Hence, as the revalidation of voter’s card is presently taking place across the country, let’s endeavour to conscientize our wards to go to their respective Local Government Councils and obtain a copy of their voter’s card. The ongoing exercise is solely for those who were yet to attain 18 years of age as at the time the last voter’s card registration was conducted, or those who had attained 18 during the said period but couldn’t register, or those who have already obtained but theirs are damaged in any way. In other words, individuals who fall within the stipulated bracket are expected to as a matter of urgency be in possession of their voter’s card at the moment. It is their right, not a privilege.

         

So, at this juncture, I asked an Imolite and anyone resident in the state, who falls between the age of 18 and above, have you acquired your voter’s card? If yes, is it intact? If you are yet to grab yours, you still have a golden opportunity to do so. Stop supporting a certain political aspirant, jettisoning the fact that it is only voter’s card that can guarantee his or her victory at the polls come 2019. We must understand that possessing a voter’s card is more important than publicly tendering eulogies to any aspirant.

        

The various aspirants on their part must equally do the needful. As a matter of fact, they must acknowledge that they are one of the major stakeholders required to assist in sensitizing the electors, particularly their followers, on the unavoidable need to ensure that they boast of their voter’s card as they eagerly await the year in question. In view of this, the aspirants and the political parties in general ought to play their cards aptly so that at the end, only a successful and credible election would be recorded in the state.

        

The electoral umpire (INEC) must as well be very helpful as long as the said exercise lasts. There is need to decentralize the ongoing revalidation of voter’s card being held across the country. Instead of making it an exercise to be conducted only at the local government headquarters, the various political wards – polling units precisely – should be empowered to carry-out the assignment towards ensuring that no qualified elector is disfranchised, or deprived the chances of acquiring his/her voter’s card, in the process.

        

All in all, this piece is occasioned by the need to let us note that a voter’s card remains the most powerful decision-making tool in any electioneering era. Thus, go out there today and grab your copy before ‘had I known’ becomes your slogan. Think about it!

 

Comrade FDN Nwaozor

Executive Director, Docfred Resource Hub (DRH) - Owerri
________________________________

Twitter: @mediambassador
http://facebook.com/TheMediaAmbassador

   

 

ShortStory I Costly Blunder

COSTLY BLUNDER

        Funke majestically walked into the kitchen leaving her bluish mini-gown unzipped, thereby showcasing the clasp of her pink bra. The rare dress pattern was not unconnected with the fact that the atmosphere was beclouded with intense heat, thus her prime motive was to fully welcome the cool breeze that was supposed to filter in since there wasn’t electricity to power the fans.

         Besides, the maiden was all alone in the duplex, if not Musa – the gateman – who was no doubt invariably very mindful of his duty post; hence, she could express every kind of freedom to the letter. It was about 3:15pm, so her brother-in-law, Kunle was yet to return from office. And her beloved elder sister, Kemi who was happily married to the said dude, was still very busy in her supermarket – located about a few kilometers away from the house – where she traded on all sorts of cosmetics and provisions.

        The successful 35-year-old Kunle tied the connubial knot with Kemi – who was barely a few months younger – four years back but the blissful marriage was yet to be blessed with an offspring, although she had once experienced a stillbirth. Despite the provocations, the two parties had ab initio been living joyfully as an indivisible couple.

        It would interest you to note that the latter had already become successful in her trading venture prior to the ‘eternal’ union. In fact, she was actually the one who assisted the lad to secure a job in a multi-national telecom firm immediately after their marriage with the help of her contacts. Nonetheless, she had remained thoroughly submissive and loving ever since the odyssey kicked off about forty-eight months back. It appeared her love for the union superseded that of her hubby, though they both loved and cherished each other to the peak.

        Their togetherness was occasioned by one certain day when Kunle who was still a bachelor, walked into her supermarket to purchase some goods. On sighting the young man, she became so attracted to him unannounced. Thereof, she offered him her complimentary card and enjoined him to call her number later in the day. Consequently, they became friends; two months on, the friendship abruptly metamorphosed to an intimate date; eight months down the line, they were graciously joined together as a couple towards loving each other till death do them part as was rightly proclaimed by the Anglican priest who presided over the wedding ceremony.

         The 23-year-old Funke who was the last child of her parents, had come to visit the couple over her semester break. She was a third-year student of one of the universities situated in the city of Lagos where the couple equally resided, thus had upon request thought it wise to spend the three-week holiday with the lovely union. That fateful day being Friday when she had every needed freedom to express herself dress-wise was exactly the fifth day of her stay.

         She had as usual entered the kitchen to make dinner for the family prior to the couple’s arrival. She left the sister’s shop a few minutes ago for the assignment. And she was to prepare coconut rice as was instructed by Kemi. She diligently went for all the stuffs needed to get the proposed dish done, lit up the gas-cooker and began to parboil the raw rice. She walked back to the sink and started making other preparations.

         In the process, Kunle stepped into the house, precisely the sitting room which was about three metres apart from the kitchen; the entrance to the lounge wasn’t locked, so he needn’t any assistance towards finding his way. Funke never heard any noise as he entered, neither did she hear the sound of his car when he drove into the house’s premises the moment the gates were let open by Musa; this implied that she never saw a bit of him coming.

         On perceiving a sweet aroma as soon as he stepped in, he needn’t be told that someone was busy in the kitchen preparing some delicacies. And, it must be Funke since there was no how his Kemi could be home at that time of the day; it was almost 4:00pm but Kemi usually returned at least at five O’clock on a daily basis.

         He quickly dropped his white briefcase coupled with the black suit jacket which was hung on his arm, on one of the upholstery chairs in the lounge and walked towards the kitchen to see things for himself. Till this point, Funke was yet to realize that the human population in the house had outrightly increased to two, thus she remained undistracted in her duties as she faced the sink squarely.

         The moment he graced the kitchen’s entrance, rather than being further enticed by the titillating scent emanating from her fries, he was trapped by her seeming romantic posture. The pink bra that was kept uncovered from behind as well as her well packaged bum-bum was obviously a sight to behold, even by the blind. He ostensibly had all the time in the world to sheepishly, and perhaps foolishly admire what he was seeing, thus he stood aloof at the door unnoticed as she focused on the cookery.

         He had never for once lust over her but being human, what was being showcased at the time was apparently irresistible. Even the ‘pope’ could even fall victim.

         “Eh-eh-eh!” Kunle cleared his throat to eventually disclose his presence as he stood at the door.

          Funke was startled by the sudden noise as she turned like one who just woke from an untold nightmare. “Oh sir,” she managed to utter. “You are back?”

           The moment she faced him, he was further carried away by what she possessed on her chest as he stared in silent awe; the dress was partly displaying her moderately big boobs, thereby arousing his appetite. “Yes dear.” he hesitantly responded. “Did I frighten you?”

          “Yes nah.”

          “Oh, I am sorry.”

          “It’s alright.” she said, holding the kitchen spoon in her right hand. “How long have you been standing there?” she added.

           “Not quite long.” quoth Kunle. “I was really admiring you.”

           “You mean my cooking style?” She verified albeit ignorantly.

           “Not really.”

           “So..?”

           “I mean,” he uttered. “Your endowments.”

           “My endowments..?” she said, confused.

           “Funke,” he called. “You are indeed a very pretty girl.”

           “Sure?” she innocently replied.

           “Yea.” He cleared the air, walked closer to her. “You are more than beautiful.” He supplemented as he stood right before her.

         “Thank you, sir.” She managed to appreciate, quickly dropped the spoon in the sink and attempted to walk away having understood where he was headed.

         As she tried to locate her way, he tenderly drew her back, quietly took his hands behind her, unclasped the bra, and therein she couldn’t resist his lustful actions. He began to kiss her and she reciprocated as if she had longed for it. Within a twinkle of an eye, they proceeded to another level right there in the kitchen. Without much preliminary measures, they commenced the real game having chosen to employ standing-order. She moaned and groaned as his cock was wholly in her. In merely four minutes time, every player had climaxed, hence the game leader pulled off.

         Therein, Kunle was engulfed by guilt as Funke began to shed seeming crocodile tears having realized the gravity of her actions. She had unarguably betrayed her blood sister who was equally her benefactor, whilst the former had indeed taken what he could not chew.

         Four weeks after, Funke walked up to Kunle while he was seated alone in the parlour watching television and informed him that she was a-month pregnant for him.

         “Pregnant..?” he exclaimed at the top of his voice as he sat roughly in the upholstery seat.

         To be continued, please!

 

FDN Nwaozor

Executive Director, Docfred Resource Hub - Owerri

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