Familiarity breeds contempt. We tend to despise and underrate that which is readily available to us. This is the summary of the history of new world heavy weight champion Anthony Joshua with Nigeria, his parent’s country of birth. Since the young man gained more prominence following his latest and biggest title win yet, after defeating Ukranian, Vladimir Klistchko, there has been some debate about his country of origin, and who really has the right to claim him. It is befuddling and amusing, as one would have assumed the answer was a no-brainer. Joshua is British born. He is a citizen of Britain, and represents the country every time he steps into the ring. But how did this needless debate even come about in the first place?
I was watching the clip of the interview of a young lady who was responding to the unfortunate electrocution and subsequent death of 30 young men who had gone to see the Europa League Quarter Final match between Manchester United and Anderlecht at a viewing center in Calabar. A high tension electricity cable had fallen on the roof of the building, and sadly many of the football faithfuls lost their lost lives before they could be rushed to the hospital due to the lack of first aid treatment and equipment that could forestall or at least reduce such fatality. But that’s a topic for another day.
It is stale gist that the most attractive and lucrative career in this part of the world right now is the whistle-blowing profession. Since the government at the center made the whistle-blowing policy that would see anyone who has authentic information regarding where stolen monies are hidden receive 5 percent of the recovered sum last December, there has been an increasing number of discoveries of unbelievable amounts of looted cash by the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission.
“How rewarding has writing been for you?” he asked. “Do you make money from blogging?” She wanted to know. These are the sort of questions I get fairly regularly. While the perception of what a typical career should look like is changing in this part of the world, there’s still a significant level of cynicism about certain vocations and how lucrative they are or aren’t. Writing falls in the category of such professions.
“At Queens, we are classy. We are excellent in all we do, we are the best, Queens College leads, others follow”- Mantra
The above mantra represents all of what Queens College, Lagos is not right now. This assertion is not up for a debate. There is nothing remotely classy about the news that over a thousand students fell ill due to water contamination, and certainly nothing excellent about three pupils losing their lives as an aftermath of this illness. Queens College, like many other erstwhile prestigious institutions of learning in Nigeria appears to have gone to the dogs. It’s another painful failure of the educational system in Nigeria, and by extension the Nigerian State.
They say men are moved by what they see. These days however, I am tempted to believe that both men and women are moved by visuals. The word “Goals” is one that is bandied around a lot on social media. It is often used to express a person’s desire to achieve what someone else has or a longing to be like them in one way or the other; usually regarding some marital, career or any other real or perceived significant life accomplishment. However, as with most attributes that are peculiar to the virtual community, the word “goals” is mostly used when for instance, a couple put up their pre-wedding pictures, or a good looking family post photos of themselves. And so, beyond liking the post, some of their followers can’t help but express a longing to be like them. This desire is revealed in phrases such as “marriage goals,” “family goals,” “couple goals” and the likes.
A man decides to end his life by plunging into the lagoon on a glorious Sunday evening. He was a medical doctor. To the average observer, he appeared to be comfortable, or at least better off than most people. In different circumstances, but in clearly another act of suicide, a final year student of a University opts to take his own life by hanging himself in the hostel room he shared with two of his colleagues. They return after a night of reading to find him dangling from the ceiling. Both incidents have sent shock waves down the spine of many Nigerians. A country where the concept of committing suicide is still somewhat alien.
It starts with a promise. “To have and to hold, for richer and poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us apart” Everyone in that space can’t help but shed a lone tear. He looks at her. She stares at him. They made it! Theirs will be different. They will show others what a real union should be like. They’ll school intending married couples on how to treat the significant other in a marriage. 2 years down the line the story is different. Daggers are drawn, the once inseparable lovebirds can’t stand the sight of each other anymore. One of them has reneged on all the vows made that fateful day. The situation degenerates to a point of no return. A divorce is filed by the party who just can’t take it anymore. Another once promising union bites the dust.
At one time or the other, a couple of people have asked what I thought about the idea of being a celebrity, and if I ever wanted to be one. My answer was the same each time. I don’t want to be a celebrity in the sense of being so physically recognizable that I would hardly be able to buy roasted plantain by the roadside if I wanted to. I want to be known solely for what I do, my craft, and nothing else. I don’t want every Sade, Nnamdi and Hassan all up in my personal business, or thinking they have a right to tell me how to live my life because of some silly celebrity status. I always tell them I want the radio kind of popularity. I want people to know my name, not necessarily my face. Being a celebrity is a burden I am not quite sure I can bear well. The fuss about singer and songwriter, Simi’s mode of dressing is one of the reasons I never crave to be popular.
“Sadly football is a business with a short memory”- Luigi Riccardi
Claudio Ranieri, the 65- year old, Italian manager who led lowly Leicester City Football Club to an unprecedented English Premiership title win last season was given the boot last Thursday. The Foxes have been a shadow of the team they were last season, no doubt. But very few suspected that their hero, who surpassed all expectations and made history with a team of average players could get the axe so soon. Just nine months later…just 292 days after lifting the coveted trophy, memories were trashed to the bin, and a benefactor was fired in a most unceremonious manner. If that isn’t the height of disloyalty and betrayal then I don’t know what is.