ShortStory I Misplaced Priority

MISPLACED PRIORITY

       Sunday is indeed a great and special day in the Gregorian calendar. Little wonder it is not only observed by the Christendom but anyone that lives under the Sun. Hence, Ifeoma was not exempted from this reality. The moment the 38-year-old bachelorette returned from her church service, she was deeply filled with ecstasy that wasn’t unconnected with the extensive sermon she got awhile ago. It seemed the cleric deliberately dedicated the gospel to the unmarried congregants, particularly the female folks. So, as she arrived home, she couldn’t help but kept recalling every bit of the gospel as she graciously sat on one of the white settees in her lounge room.

       ‘Ify’ - as she was fondly called by friends and kin - a media entrepreneur who was very successful in her career lived alone in her mansion, thus the loneliness that accompanied the arena abruptly brought the other side of the said sermon. To this end, she was beclouded by mixed feelings.

       In his speech, the cleric took his time to let the singles comprehend that life wasn’t a competitive ground, hence, they needn’t judge their progress with that of others when it called for tying the nuptial knots. He admonished those who had despaired by asking them to desist from such ‘evil thought’. According to him, everyone had his/her own time to grab what he/she so desired. However, he went further to ask them, especially the spinsters, to step down their taste as they search for their missing ribs having acknowledged that most of them nurtured uncalled and inconsequential wishes. They were made to note that some qualities could be compromised, or better still, they could help their partner or would-be-spouse to acquire the features they desire. This was what prompted the ‘mixed feelings’ felt by the classy Ifeoma.

       As she soberly sat on the seat in her white suit alongside its skirts, she laid her right leg on the left one, remained thoughtful and looked too serious. Few minutes later, she leaned on the seat, maintaining her posture and countenance. Subsequently, she glanced at her wristwatch – it was 1:15pm.

       “Ikenna said he would be here by two.” She thought, hurriedly stood up and walked into her bedroom to undress.

       Ikenna was the gentleman in her life. Or, would I say, one of the men in her life. They have been together for over two years. The 40-year-old Ikenna had sought her hand in marriage but she trivialized the proposal, pledging to think about it. From the look of things, he was not the kind of man she wished to settle down with. She wanted a man who had made it financially; a man who could command money. Though he wasn’t successful as expected, Ikenna was a very promising young man, and industrious too.

        The response he awaited regarding the marriage proposal had taken too long, and was not seemingly forthcoming either. The suspense was really telling on him that he didn’t know what next to do. And enormous pressure was being mounted on him by his parents to settle down. He loved her to the core that he couldn’t imagine searching for someone else. He had called her the previous day to inform that he would be at her place the following day being Sunday by 2:00pm.

       At two O’clock, she returned to the living room in a casual and sexy dress, looking forward to having Ikenna’s presence. She waited till 2:30pm, still not any form of his image was found within neither was any knock heard at the door. Unlike her whom hardly got disappointed whenever he couldn’t keep a date with her, she became so jittery and depressed.

        It appeared the gospel she received few hours back had brought a change in her life unannounced. After all, human beings remained dynamic and could transform to something else at anytime. This is one natural idiosyncrasy no mortal can run away from, and she was not any inch away from such trait. 

        At 2:50pm, Ikenna’s absence was still felt. Hence, she thought it wise to put across a phone call.

       “Hello Ify!” Ikenna said as he took the call.

       “Are you okay?” she enquired tenderly.

       “Yes, I am fine.”

       “So, what is keeping you?”

       “I am sorry, dear,” he responded. “I can’t make it again.”

       “You can’t what?”

       “I am really sorry.”

       “You can’t be serious.” she said. “Are you?”

       “Like I said,” quoth Ikenna. “I am sorry.” He clarified, cut the call.

        She was shocked. “Did he actually cut the call on me?” she verified rhetorically, couldn’t fathom the scenario.

        She attempted to dial the number again but thought otherwise. Thus, she stood up, walked into her bedroom, quickly got dressed, and dashed out of the house. The moment she got to her garage, she fiercely instructed her gateman afar to keep the gates open, hopped into one of her cars and drove out. No doubt, she was headed for Ikenna’s residence, which was situated about twelve kilometers (12km) away.

        While on her way, she drove recklessly like one who just received the news of her mother’s eternal demise. As she frantically handled the steering, she could not predict what her fate entailed. In the process, she applied the throttle and brake indiscriminately never minded that the car possessed a clutch, even when its need was highly required. In less than five minutes, she was on the premises of Ikenna’s humble abode. As soon as she off the ignition having applied the brakes, she dashed out forgetting to close the car door, and walked furiously towards the entrance to his parlour.

        The look on her face could showcase that her emotions were really boiling. The black jeans trousers, pink T-shirt coupled with the white leather slippers she wore could equally feel the tension. Her conspicuous beauty had ostensibly faded. Even though she came in a car, she was sweating and appeared very exhausted.

        When she got to the entrance to the two-bedroom flat, she never bothered knocking, thus she harshly opened the door only to see what she would had preferred to see only in her dreams. Therein, in the sitting room, Ikenna was seriously having a good time with a certain lady whose head that bore plaited hairs lay on his laps as the former was seated on his 3-in-1 cushion chair alongside the latter who chose to lie; they were cuddling each other to Ifeoma’s utmost surprise.

        They immediately looked up to observe who walked into the parlour on hearing the strange sound, and got profoundly shocked the moment they caught the sight of Ifeoma. The lady quickly detached her head from his laps and sat uprightly; although she was yet to know who Ifeoma was, she apparently needn’t be told that she (Ifeoma) was her rival. Ikenna never imagined Ifeoma would consider coming to his place because she had never reacted in such manner before since over two years he had known her, thus her presence wasn’t just shocking but so alarming.

      What transpired thereafter ought to be a story for another day, so keep a date with us. Or, any counter reaction? Think about it!

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ShortStory I Shattered Dream

SHATTERED DREAM

      She had lain in her matrimonial bed few minutes back, felt uneasy. Right now, she had chosen to be on her feet, still struggling in her devastating mood. She had remained like that for over an hour, kept roaming from one point to another in the same room. Opeyemi, the happily married 37-year-old mother of two, seemed not unlike one who had been duly notified that something was wrong somewhere. Probably she was reacting to a mere presumption. The sparkling white pyjamas she wore could feel every bit of the emotional crisis.

      ‘Ope’ as she was fondly called had been in the marriage for almost eight years but her husband was resident abroad, Spain precisely. That was exactly the bone of contention. Her hubby Tunde who left about five years back, barely few months after she gave birth to their second child, was yet to return since he departed. The couple only communicated on phone, hoping to see each other once again someday. What else could the poor woman do than to remain optimistic and resilient? Not until two weeks back when Tunde’s unending phone calls that served as her only succour ceased to come. She was yet to fathom the reason behind the abrupt break in transmission having employed several means to unravel the forsaking mystery; none of his phone numbers was reachable.

       Few minutes later as she impatiently stood on the tied floor, her cell phone that lay on the bed rang. The handset’s ringing tone was one thing she longed for since it is the only way she could hear from Tunde whom had been incommunicado for almost fourteen days. Immediately, the tone apparently aroused her consciousness.

       She rushed the phone, glanced at the screen only to discover that her mother was the caller. She sighed, felt highly disappointed, and thus couldn’t bother picking the damn call. She fiercely threw the gadget back to the bed, but it rang again.

      “What is it nah?” she lamented aloud as the handset blared for the umpteenth time, then sluggishly picked it up once again. “Good afternoon, mum.” She managed to utter as she eventually answered the call.

       “Ope, how are you?” the caller, Mrs. Adeolu enquired tenderly, felt disturbed.

       “I am fine, ma”

       “Where have you been?” said Mrs. Adeolu. “Why didn’t you pick your call?” she added in a jiffy.

       “I am sorry, ma.” Opeyemi responded. “I was busy in the kitchen.” She lied.

       “Alright.” Mrs. Adeolu said, became relaxed. “What about your children?” she added.

      “They are yet to return from school.” Opeyemi replied, quickly glanced at a wall clock hung in the room – it was 2.45pm. “They will be back by three.” She informed with a faded voice.

      “Are you sure you are okay, Ope?”

      “I am fine, ma.” She answered. “Besides, why did you ask?”

      “This is not your voice, my dear.”

      “Mum, I am fine.”

      “It’s a lie,” Mrs. Adeolu insisted. “I have known you for thirty-seven years now.”

      “So?”

      “This is not you, my daughter.” quoth the concerned mother. “Please tell me, what is the problem?”

      Opeyemi calmly sat on her matrimonial bed. “Mum, it’s Tunde.” She notified hesitantly.

      “Your husband?”

      “Yes ma.”

      “What did he do to you?”

      “Nothing,” she responded. “Just that I haven’t heard from him for two weeks now.

       “Are you serious?”

       “Yes ma.’ She replied, nodding – the nod was significantly useless though.

       “You don’t mean it.” Mrs. Adeolu exclaimed. “Well, that is why I called.” She hesitantly chipped in.

       “How?”

        Mrs. Adeolu actually called on Tunde’s account based on the directive of her husband, Mr. Adeolu. The latter had earlier in the day while leaving for office instructed the former to invite their daughter, Opeyemi home towards discussing a crucial issue regarding Tunde.

       “I called because of Tunde.’

       “What about him?” she curiously tendered, stood up from the bed.

       “There is nothing wrong, my dear.” Mrs. Adeolu informed. “Actually, your father has a business plan to discuss with Tunde, but he decided to inform you first.” She twisted.

       “What business plan?”

       “He said I should invite you home,” quoth Mrs. Adeolu. “So you both can talk one on one.”

        The two families resided in the same city. Opeyemi’s matrimonial home was about ten minutes drive from where her parents lived.

       “So, when does he want me to come?” she said anxiously.

       “Tomorrow,” Mrs. Adeolu replied. “In the morning.”

        The following day was Saturday, so the 65-year-old Mr. Adeolu who was an established entrepreneur wouldn’t be going to office. He worked only during the weekdays.

       “Okay ma.” quoth Opeyemi. “I will be there in the morning.”

       “Alright, see you then.” said the 64-year-old Mrs. Adeolu.

       “Bye ma.”

                                          * * * * * *   

       “Ope, how are you?” Mr. Adeolu asked as he was seated in his parlour alongside his wife on the following day being Saturday.

       Opeyemi who was clad in a maternity gown sat opposite the couple. “I am fine, sir.” She answered in false pretence.

       “What about your kids?”

       “There are also fine.” she said. “They even wanted to come with me.”

       “You said, when last did you hear from your husband?”

       “Over two weeks now, sir.’

        Mrs. Adeolu shook her head, felt for her daughter.

       “Have you tried to reach him?” Mr. Adeolu enquired.

      “Yes sir.” quoth Opeyemi. “I have tried all his numbers but none was available.”

      “What about his parents?” the chief host rode on. “Have you heard from them?”

      “They are also worried.” she responded. “They haven’t heard from him too.”

      “Hmm..” Mr. Adeolu released a deep breath.

      “I learnt you have a business plan to discuss with him?”

      “Business plan..? Mr. Adeolu said, surprised; hastily looked at his wife who was seated beside him. “What did you tell her?” He queried.

      The wife was speechless, really trapped by the question.

      Opeyemi became very confused at the scenario, thus she was therein gripped by fear.

       The truth was that her mother twisted the reality of the moment when they spoke on phone the previous day, though she did it to zero her (Opeyemi’s) mind from any suspicion.

       From Mrs. Adeolu’s countenance, her hubby needn’t be told that something fishy transpired during the phone conversation, hence, he never bothered to receive an answer to his query.

      “Dad, what is going on here?” Opeyemi inquired, sensed unease.

      “My dear, there is no need beating about the bush.” quoth Mr. Adeolu.

       The moment he made the comment, Opeyemi’s heart stuck in her tummy.  “Is my husband alive?” She exclaimed emphatically, stoop up.

      “Far from it.” her father replied. “Just that, …” He added, stopped.

       “That what?” Opeyemi ranted, stood still.

       “He was deported last week.” He eventually informed.

       “What..?” Opeyemi shouted, subconsciously resumed her seat.

         Her mother walked to her seat and began to console her.

       “Take it easy, my dear.” Her father sympathized, remained in his seat.

        Tunde was repatriated from Italy over a week ago owing to a misunderstanding that ensued between him and a Spanish ‘sugar mummy’ he intended to marry. He resorted to settling down with her since it was the only way he could acquire a permanent residency permit. Barely three weeks to their proposed court wedding, she discovered that Tunde already had a Nigerian wife; hence, out of frustration, she set the dude up.

       When he returned to Nigeria, he went straight to his in-law’s residence, and they were the only persons that knew his whereabouts – although they weren’t told the actual reason behind the deportation. Since then, they had been thinking of how to disclose the matter to his wife.

      “So, where is my husband?” Opeyemi asked her parents amid convulsive gasps.

        Before she could finish the question, Tunde surfaced from one of the rooms in the house.

       On sighting him, Opeyemi hastily jumped up in tears and hugged him. He reciprocated passionately.

       As they hugged each other affectionately, Tunde perhaps kept wondering how he would cope with the days ahead since his dream had been seemingly shattered.

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Opinion I ASUU, FG and Fate of Nigeria's Higher Education

ASUU, FG AND FATE OF NIGERIA’S HIGHER EDUCATION

         

 For decades now, acquiring higher education in this part of the world – particularly Nigeria – has remained synonymous with cat and dog life owing to the unwholesome state of the country’s various tertiary institutions of learning. The said challenge, which is very glaring, might not be unconnected with the national and local issues affecting the way we plan for our future relevance and sustainability.

       

 Higher education is being reshaped by globalization and digital revolution, that, every institution of learning that knows its onions wants to find itself in the world map regardless of what it would cost. Prospective students are fast becoming academically aware and making decisions about education accordingly contrary to what it used to be. University rankings among other yardsticks of measuring greatness will increasingly have greater influence on positioning institutions in the international market, and graduate career-readiness is a growing student concern.

       

 Students are indeed looking for access to services and education across new technologies and more flexible delivery options. Towards being competitive as well as meeting these expectations, higher institutions would need to invest in expensive facilities and infrastructure. Higher citadels of learning, such as universities, polytechnics, and colleges of education, are like manufacturing industries, hence, require adequate funding towards sustenance. Commencement of such business alone is strictly capital intensive, and its day-to-day running is sustained by thorough vigilance on the part of the management. Since schools are not profit-making industries unlike other capitalist firms, their functionality mainly depends on funds coming from outside rather than the students’ tuition fees.

         

Ironically, Nigeria’s learning citadels, precisely the higher ones, have been wearing pathetic physiognomy thus far, thereby making them produce half-baked products unabated, in the name of ‘graduates’. This set of unemployed youths is littered all over the country, searching for white-collar jobs that cannot be properly handled if given to them. And, since the jobs are not forthcoming, they would resort to such various social vices that would generate quick money as armed robbery, kidnapping, abduction, cultism, gambling, and so on.

        

Considering the aforementioned phenomenon, there’s no need to say that about eighty per cent (80%) reason Nigeria is currently awash with all kinds of dubious acts is the ongoing plight of unemployment, which is on the rampage. But if the so called job-seekers were well equipped/tutored while in school, they would have rather considered becoming employers of labour. They can only become self-reliant if the necessary teachings were given to them during their school days.

        

Take a walk to any university across the federation and see things for yourself. Facilities including laboratories, libraries, workshops, and even lecture classes/halls are nothing to write home about. Most of the institutions are, to assert the least, like glorified primary schools. What about the lecturers’ offices coupled with their wages? An average politician would go home with millions of naira on a weekly basis whereas a lecturer, on the average, cannot even boast of a hundred thousand naira (#100,000). It would interest, perhaps shock you to note that the basic salary of a ward councillor in Nigeria is about five times greater than the overall monthly wage of a professor who is reckoned to be most learned in any society.

        

A lot has really gone wrong, and it is high time we made amends toward attaining the anticipated greatness. Each year, the Academic Staff Union of Universities (ASUU), among other labour unions in other higher learning citadels, embark on industrial action for a particular cause, yet the demon ravaging our schools remains seemingly unbeatable. The question now is: how do we unravel this lingering mystery, or should we continue folding our arms and watch it deteriorate into a more forbidden scene?

        

The answer is very simple. First, governments at all levels must ensure that heads of the institutions in question, to include vice-chancellor, rector, and provost for universities, polytechnics and colleges of education, respectively, are strictly appointed via merit instead of mere favouritism which is usually the case. Astute administrators, or individuals of note, ought to be appointed to serve in such capacities.  
        

Sometimes, the poor state of these schools is partly attributed to the kind of person piloting their affairs. In most cases you would observe that a vice-chancellor, for instance, would spend several years fencing the institution, and end up not implementing any consequential project throughout his/her five-year tenure or as the case may be. This aspect of misappropriation of funds is, for quite some time now, being harboured as a culture in most existing higher citadels of learning across the federation.  

         

Similarly, the concerned quarters must ensure that only qualified individuals are employed as lecturers; engaging unqualified teachers in the institutions have succeeded in causing untold harm to the future of the teeming students, particularly the undergraduates. The wages of the lecturers must also be taken as priority by the governments, and those in privately owned institutions should equally be treated as such.

          

Universities, being research-oriented institutions, cannot thrive under the ongoing Treasury Single Account (TSA) regime of the present administration. The education sector – especially higher institutions – deserve unalloyed financial autonomy, thus they ought to be exempted from such mechanism. Since the initiative is targeted to curb corruption, the government can set up a formidable and reliable agency that would continually monitor how the schools are faring; and if anyone is found culpable in the process, he/she should be brought to book without much ado. It’s very pathetic and an eyesore that our universities are yet to commercialize their patents in an era where the society is expected to mainly depend on higher institutions as regards research works.

         

The fact is, adequate funding of higher education, which has been taken aback for decades now, is the only way we can make the affected institutions compete globally. There are absolutely no two ways about it. Though the ongoing Tertiary Education Trust Fund (TETFUND) scheme is trying, a lot still needs to be done. Most times these funds are utilized on laboratory equipment that cannot be calibrated, or library materials such as books that are outdated, thereby making them serve as mere monuments or decorative materials as long as they last in the various benefiting institutions.

        

The ASUU, among others, on their part must endeavour to run an independent unionism at all times, rather than barely indulging in tokenism. The handwriting should invariably be clearly written on the wall for the concerned government regardless of the circumstance. Hence, they mustn’t spare the rot and spoil the child. They ought to acknowledge that any foul play they engage in is to the detriment of their students’ future, and that of Nigeria at large. If you have a cause you are fighting for, concentrate on how to drive to the end instead of succumbing to baseless and unfounded threats in the long run.

        

This recessionary era is obviously the ripe time to get the funding of the country’s higher education right, because any procrastination would surely be at the expense of the anticipated economic turnaround. Think about it!

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