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Saturday, 17 December 2016

Nigeria, Fast Becoming Synonymous with ills

NIGERIA, FAST BECOMING SYNONYMOUS WITH ILLS

        
In my church, Catholic precisely, a prayer for ‘Nigeria in distress’ is being said for decades now. I grew up to join the chorus; suffice it to say that the prayer had been existing since I was born, or prior to my existence if I’m not mistaken. Hence, I kept wondering if Nigeria would remain in distress unabated. The religious devotion is already overriding the country’s national anthem, which implies that the distress in question is getting out of hand.

       
If your thought is as good as mine, why would anyone be doubtful of the relevance of such prayer? All forms of social ills to include student cultism, exam practices, kidnapping, robbery, pick pocketing, rape, incest, drug addiction, cheating, and even household lies, have abruptly overtaken the wellbeing of Nigeria’s polity. The value system has arguably fast deteriorated. Hence, asserting that the country is uncontrollably suffering from distress isn’t an overstatement, rather understatement.

       
What is more baffling as regards the pitiable situation is that most parents, perhaps vulnerable ones, claim ignorance of their wards’ dirty lifestyles. For instance, those whom their children are ostensibly progressive and keep showering with ‘tainted’ love wouldn’t hesitate to tell you, when asked, that their son is doing very well in his business – even when they are unsure. A non-vulnerable or more informed parent could go extra mile to ascertain what his/her child does for a living.

 
However, when you look inwards, you would comprehend that presenting vulnerability as an excuse is a product of ills. There’s no caring and sane parent that wouldn’t be concerned about their child’s safety. In other words, any rational human progenitor would stop at nothing towards ensuring that their offspring are all into occupation or activity that wouldn’t attract rot to their persons in the long run.

       
So, it’s only a corrupt and weird parent that would prefer to display a nonchalant attitude in issues regarding their child’s wellbeing. Such parents wouldn’t bother to find out what exactly that’s yielding their son’s wealth. All they care about is for the money to keep flowing, so he would continue showering them with ‘love’. And if the chap in question is a cultist, someday he would be probably asked to offer his either parents’ head for ritual renewal. If he is an armed robber, he might equally consider robbing his parental home.

        
The type occurring in the education sector is unspeakable, to assert the least. Our young ones, now, no longer sit for their examinations without concealing microchips in their private parts, or the assistance of mercenary, as the case may be. In most secondary schools across the federation, mainly privately owned ones, questions from external examiners like WAEC, NECO, NABTEB, or what have you, are not anymore attended to by the candidates they are meant for, rather the teachers of the affected schools.

        
In some quarters where the schools do not want the practice to appear obvious or intend to apply a little decency, they would turn the examination format to teacher-student cooperation whereby the candidate would be apparently seated on the exam desk while his/her tutor would be functioning like a standby generator. Funnily enough, this disgusting melodrama does not take place without the approval of the exam’s supervisor; needless to reiterate that it’s a two-way thing. Sure, things are no longer at ease.

        
Have you taken a walk to most universities lately? They currently parade themselves with countless ‘First Class’ products as if Nigeria has more good brains now than before. Of course, it isn’t longer news that a primary school-leaver during the days of my father can compete confidently, or even supersede, most present days’ university graduates. Besides, during my university days, I was told by an astute teacher that no department in any Nigerian institution has the capacity to produce first class graduates.

        
According to the professor, it wasn’t that the country didn’t have good brains but considering that its universities lacked the required facilities, it could not boast of first class products that could compete with the world. I personally concurred, but recently I came to realize that Nigerian universities were producing first class materials in accordance with the available facilities and manpower, and not products that could fit anywhere beyond the country. Even at that, are they supposed to be making it seem as if they are competing among themselves with regard to the number of first class graduates to be produced per session? The scenario indeed calls for a deep thought.

       
I can’t but continue to wonder where exactly we are headed. I’m right now pouting seriously. Someone would relentlessly lament that our politicians are densely corrupt, but when one looks inwardly, he would acknowledge that the level of corruption among the followers is overwhelming. Even household corruption has overridden others. Go to the market places, and you would observe countless antics transpiring on a daily basis; it’s a place where a seller wouldn’t mind using his/her customer for ritual, and albeit ignorantly the latter would yet presume he/she is being pampered. An average seller would consistently cheats his customer, still, addresses him as his loved one.

       
Every moment we complain profusely over graft, forgetting that the prevalence of corruption by non-public servants is fast dominating the system. The awaited change, surely, must begin with each of us. Think about it! 

 
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Technical Intricacy of Modern Education

TECHNICAL INTRICACY OF MODERN EDUCATION

        
Education can be described as the imparting and acquiring of knowledge via teaching and learning, especially at a school or similar institution. In the words of G. K. Chesterton ‘Education is simply the soul of a society as it passes from one generation to another.’ No wonder every sane and rational society treats it as the fundamental factor required toward any meaningful development.

      
The earliest educational processes involved sharing information about gathering food and providing shelter; making weapons and other tools; learning language; and acquiring the values, behaviour, as well as religious rites or practices of a given culture. Prior to the invention of writing and reading, people lived in an environment in which they struggled to survive against natural forces, animals, and other humans. At the time, to survive, preliterate individuals developed skills that grew into cultural and educational patterns.

        
Education emanated from the human struggle for survival and enlightenment. It might be formal or informal. The latter refers to the general social process by which human beings acquire the knowledge and skills needed to function in their culture. Whilst, formal education refers to the process through which teachers instruct pupils or students, as might be the case, in subjects of study within institutions.

      
The modern day education makes one feel proud that s/he is truly educated, though formally or informally, everyone is educated. The real education, which is the overall development of mind, body and soul, can be acquired via any means. According to Carter Woodson, ‘Education means to inspire people to live more abundantly, to learn to begin with life as they find it and make it better.’

        
It’s noteworthy that modern education is aided with a variety of technology comprising computers, projectors, internet, and calculators, among others; this fact forms the basis of this discussion. Everything that can be simplified has been made simpler by introduction of the aforementioned gadgets into the modern day education. Science has obviously explored every aspect of human life; it suffices to say that there is now much to learn as well as more to assimilate. Internet alone provides abysmal knowledge, meaning literally that there’s no end to it.

        
Skill development and vocational education has added a new feather to the modern system of education. There is something to learn for everyone. Even an infant these days goes to a kindergarten. And a little grown – mentally and physically – is promoted to a nursery. The most fascinating part is that everything is being categorized ranging from kindergarten, nursery, primary, secondary, to tertiary; and each of these stages has a certain set of technical acquaintances. The truth is, modern pattern of education is a never-ending process. Aristotle Nicomachus stated that ‘Education is an ornament in prosperity and a refugee in adversity.’ This is exactly what modern education represents.       

        
However, it’s pertinent to acknowledge that the existing technical intricacy of modern education has caused colossal harm to the present days children. For instance, before now, devices such as abacus were used during Mathematics classes. Such an approach helped tremendously to educate the kids – ranging from ages 6 to 14 – on mental arithmetic, a knowledge that enables them to face any form of Mathematics problem in the future. But now, except in countries like India, Russia, China, Ghana, and what have you that still use counting frame or abacus, calculator has suddenly overtaken its use in Nigeria. Worse still, even primary school pupils are now exposed to scientific calculators.

         
Modern education has deprived most learners the opportunity of seeing the real events or scenes. Engineering students, for example, only see pictures of what is being taught, or what is expected to be produced by them. Final year undergraduates, and perhaps postgraduate students, presently do their projects or theses by merely downloading the required materials from the net. Most students don’t even know where the fabric they are wearing came from. The word ‘how’ is currently missing in our world, which causes ignorance.

         
Modern education has succeeded in spreading more ignorance than knowledge. It has produced a vast population able to read but unable to distinguish what is worth reading. Learners do more of cramming rather than memorizing, which can only be achieved by getting close to facts or the actual pictures. Albert Einstein once said ‘Education is that which remains if one has forgotten everything learned in school.’

        
For the technical intricacies involved in modern education to be advantageous to the learners, they must serve as supplements. They ought to be used for reference purposes. The pupils/students must get used to the real pictures or sites before introducing the use of tech gadgets to them. Their brains shouldn’t be complicated with those stuffs at early stage. These brains are still fragile, thus ought not to be juxtaposed with tech intricacies. More so, endeavour to let the practical segment be preceded by theory.

       
We must note that every invention was made for a purpose, and to be applied at a particular time. So if we end up misusing them, it becomes a problem when they are meant to serve as blessing. Think about it!  


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Facebook Palaver II

FACEBOOK PALAVER (II)

      “What have you done to me?” Abigail ranted, hastily stood up, got dressed and furiously dashed out of the room.

      Metu joined her in his shorts as she was about leaving the main entrance to the apartment. “Please, I am sorry.” He uttered, attempted holding her left hand.

      She abruptly stopped. “Don’t you dare touch me.” She warned, fiercely looking into his eyes.

      “Please, I am very sorry.” He reiterated in false pretence.

      “Shit,” she lamented. “I never knew I have been dealing with a monster.” She said, gushed out tears.

      “Baby, I am really sorry,” he lied. “I don’t know what came over me.”

      “Mark today’s date,” quoth Abigail. “Henceforth, you shall never know peace in your life.” She cursed, eventually dashed out and forcedly jammed the door.

      “To hell with your curse!” Metu trivialized as he stood behind the door. “Nah today..?” he added in vernacular, meaning literally he wasn’t a new breed in the game, thus stood to fear nothing.

                           * * * * * *

      When Abigail got to her school lodge on that fateful day being Sunday, at about 5.20pm, she wasn’t herself, couldn’t believe she was actually a victim of a monstrous act she had forbade right from her childhood. It kept ringing on her innocent mind like a mere dream as she lay weirdly in her humble bed.

      “Are you alright?” Her roommate – Kate – inquired the moment she stepped into the room having been away since morning after her church service.

      Abigail couldn’t utter a word, really appeared pale and depressed in the bed.

      Kate, who needn’t be told that all wasn’t well, hurriedly sat on the bed, gripped by fear “Abi baby.” she tenderly called, looking into her eyes. “What’s wrong with you?”

       “I am fine.” She managed to say.

       “No, you are not,” quarreled Kate. “This is not you.”

        Abigail gushed out tears uncontrollably.

       “What is wrong with you?”

       “He raped me…!” she cried out.

       “He wha..t?”

        Abigail nodded.

       “Oh my God!” Kate screamed, stood up roughly. “You mean that bastard raped you..?” she ranted, gesticulating.

        Abigail kept sobbing.

       “How come?” enquired Kate. “How did it happen?”

       “He drugged me…” she cried out again.

       “You see,” said Kate. “I warned you but you wouldn’t listen.”

        She had earlier discouraged Abigail from embarking on the journey, stating it was too early and spontaneous for her to pay him a visit. However, in order not to begin with blame, she squatted and started wiping the tears with her bare hands. “I am so sorry, okay?”

        Abigail nodded in appreciation.

       “I bet you,” quoth Kate. “He must pay for this.”

       “Please, forget about him,” pleaded Abigail. “God will judge him.”

       “I am surprised at you,” quoth Kate. “I should forget about a man who did this to you?”

       Abigail nodded. “I don’t want my parents to know about this.”

       Kate was arrested by the last clause; hence, she jettisoned her thought of revenge immediately. She sat on the bed again and began to console her.

        * * * * * *

       “Hi dear!” Metu greeted while online, Facebook precisely.

        He just initiated a chat, as usual, with one of his newest female friends. This was happening barely forty-eight hours after his rift with Abigail. Before this time, the said lady had cancelled their friendship on the platform, thus they were not seeing each other’s account any more.

       “Hello.” she replied.

       “You are looking very beautiful, I must confess.” Metu flattered.

       “Really?”

       “Yea,” he typed. “From what I am seeing, there is no doubt about that.”

       “Okay ooh,” she wrote. “Thanks”

       “You are welcome.” He said, glanced at her profile name once again. “I am Ken. You?” he typed, ignoring her account name which read thus ‘Madu Nkiru Jovita’.

       “Nkiru.” She responded.

       “Alright,” he said. “So, you’re Igbo?”

       “Yep.”

       “What part?” he said. “I mean, which state? He supplemented.

       “Enugu.” She typed. “You?”

       “Abia.” quoth Metu. “Where do you stay?” He added in a jiffy.      

       “Calabar.”

       “Waoow.” he exclaimed. “Same here.”

       “Interesting.” enthused Nkiru.

       “You can say that again.” quoth the play boy. “So, what are you doing in Calabar?” He typed hesitantly.

       “Fashion designing.”

       “That’s lovely.”

       “Thanks.” she appreciated. “And you?”

       “I am into contracts.”

       “What type?”

       “Engineering and environmental.”

       “Ok.” She wrote.

       “Please, how old are you?” Metu inquired.

       “Why ask?”

       “Just wish to know; nothing more”

       “Ok, I am 29.” she typed. “And you?”

       “36.”     

        The chat took almost two hours before she excused him, claiming she was feeling asleep. It ended at about 8pm.

       The following week, Nkiru as she called herself landed in Metu’s apartment, which was about ten kilometers (10km) away from her residence.

       When the prospective host opened the door to usher her in, he was so overwhelmed over what he saw. She was exemplarily beautiful and endowed – fair, plump, and about 1.86 metres tall; among all, her boobs, hips, and bum were all abound and well positioned. She put on a bluish mini gown, well plaited hairs, black flat-heeled shoes, various jewelleries and designer perfume; her dress was obviously showcasing her endowments. She looked very sophisticated. “Wow, I am short of words.” He managed to utter, closed the door having ushered her in.

        She dished out an innocent smile. “What’s wrong?” she pretended.

       “You are looking extremely marvelous.”

       “Sure?”

       “Of course.” He replied as they walked towards the lounge room.

       They both assumed their seats. They sat on the same chair; a 3-in-1 cushion. “You are highly welcome, my dear.” He said elatedly, kept his eyes fixed at her magnificent ‘onions’ which were so glaring.

       “Thank you.”

       “So, what do I offer you?”

       “Stout or wine.”

       “Alright,” he said, stood up. “Please give me a few seconds.”

       “No problem.” She responded, smiling.

        Metu walked into his cookery and returned in one minute’s time with two canned stouts. He served her, placed the other one on the side-stool sited where he was seated, and resumed his seat.

       Few minutes on, the august visitor seemingly felt asleep, thus she lay on the cushion placing her head on Metu. No doubt, he had drugged her as his tradition demanded.

       He couldn’t wait, hence took her to his inner chamber, laid the body on the bed and started undressing her.

       Intriguingly, in the process, the supposedly drugged lady metamorphosed into a mighty snake. Little did he know that the so-called Nkiru was a ghost.

       Metu, who couldn’t withstand his sight, shouted at the top of his voice and attempted to escape in his boxers. As he was about being on his feet, the weird snake swallowed him and instantly vanished into thin air.

      That was the end of Metu Okafor – the so-called Ken Williams – and his generation yet unborn.

      Truly, one bad turn deserves another. Or, what do you have to say? Think about it!

 
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