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Tag: Omoh Giwa

  • No protection found: An open complaint to Tafa Balogun – By Omoh Giwa

    No protection found: An open complaint to Tafa Balogun – By Omoh Giwa

    By Omoh Giwa

    Dear Sir,

    Let us dispense with pleasantries and formal greetings; this is not the kind of correspondence that requires them. My spirit is too agitated, my pen too restless and my tongue too bitter to waste energy on etiquette. I am here, not as a supplicant but as a citizen armed with words, to report your boys to you.

    You know what our people say: when a handshake stretches beyond the elbow, it is no longer a greeting but the beginning of a wrestling match. Well, sir, the police have not only reached our elbows, they have climbed our shoulders, sat on our necks and are now chewing groundnuts there.

    Permit me to ask: I am geninuely curious, infact, baffled, what went through your mind that infamous day you hid under a car at the footsteps of the EFCC agents? The mighty lion reduced to a frightened kitten! And how, I ask you, did you manage the miraculous somersault from a champion of operation fire for fire to a connoisseur for embezzling public funds? Was this your version of career growth?

    Or were you considering a change in career path to Nollywood when you performed that gimmick of collapsing and convulsing in court like an epileptic patient? Theatrics worthy of an AMVCA nomination, if nothing else. Honestly, Nollywood owes you a Lifetime Achievement Award: Best Performance by a Former Inspector General.

    Anyway, let’s not flog a dead horse. After all, our people say, nothing concern agbero with overload. My real grievance today concerns your prodigal offspring, the Nigerian Police. Sir, who on earth started that catastrophic lie: the police is your friend? Was it you? Was it one of your delusional disciples? Whoever coined that line should be tied to an anthill at noon in Maiduguri and left there till soldier ants conduct proper deliverance.

    A friend, you say? Since when do friends waylay you at checkpoints, rifle through your car as though they are customs officers and then demand a bribe with the arrogance of a landlord collecting rent? Which friend forces you to prove you bought your own number plate by ordering you to provide the receipt, irrespective of how long ago you bought the car? No, sir, not friendship. What we have here is hostage-taking in broad daylight with government stamp.

    Do you know, sir, that mothers teach their children to run to churches, mosques, hospitals, morgues or even herbalists in times of crisis but never the police station? Because, truth be told, entering a police station in Nigeria is like entering a slaughterhouse. The odds that you’d make it out alive are zero to none. How absurd that in a supposed democracy, citizens feel safer running towards fire than towards men in uniform!

    Shall I continue? Let me remind you of their extracurricular atrocities. That time your boys raided nightclubs under the pretext of moral policing and in their custody raped women, improvising condoms with sachet water nylons. Or the countless cases of trigger-happy officers who shoot unarmed civilians over refusal to offer bribes. I am still haunted by that incident that Christmas morning when a drunk policeman murdered a young lawyer under the Ajah Bridge, staining a day of joy with blood. Or Ismaila Akapo in 2019, gunned down like an animal because your men carry bullets as though they were chewing gum.

    And what of SARS? Do not get me started! That unit of your children trained in sadism, extortion and psychological torture. The one whose legacy birthed a nationwide protest and international outcry. I need not repeat those horrors here; the graves are still fresh and the scars on young Nigerians still tender. But let me simply say this: things have fallen apart and Yeats’ falconer no longer bothers calling the falcon.

    Lest I forget, let us discuss fashion. What is the latest style among your men, refusing to wear uniforms and instead dressing in ripped jeans, black t-shirts and baseball caps while brandishing AK-47s like a fashion accessory? Honestly, they look less like police, more like bouncers or extras in a low-budget YouTube action film.

    At least armed robbers wear masks; your men now move in plain sight, indistinguishable from the very criminals they are supposed to fight. How do you expect citizens to know who is who? It’s like telling us to spot the difference between akara and bean cake. Help us beg your men. At the very least, let them return to their uniforms. A thief in uniform is still a thief but at least we know who he is.

    Now, before you accuse me of exaggeration, let me assure you I speak not from rumour but lived experience. Every Nigerian has a personal chapter in the epic tragedy called “The Police and I”. Let me give you one gist. Around 5:30 am one morning, I nearly drove straight into a robbery attack.

    At first, I thought it was a police checkpoint. After all, who else blocks the road with guns at that hour? Then one of them smashed someone’s head with the butt of a rifle. That was when my adrenaline turned me into Tom Cruise. I escaped, yes, but the trauma left me sitting in my car for 30 minutes, shaking like a faulty generator on its last leg.

    Sir, I am not so naïve as to think the rot began with you. No, this rot was woven into the very fabric of Nigeria long before your time. Yet I write to you, for who better than you could serve as the perfect cautionary tale? Think about this: if the police are our friends, then Boko Haram must be our extended cousins and armed robbers our long-lost brothers.

    So, here is my humble request: whisper to your boys from the spirit world. Tell them that the uniform is not a mere cloth but a symbol. Remind them that guns are not walking sticks to balance drunken feet. And please, above all, ask them to retire that cursed slogan: police is your friend. We know better now. Our friends do not kill us at checkpoints. Our friends do not extort us. Our friends will not rape women in custody.

    And so, in the great tradition of writing letters that may never be read, I end this one here. May you find this report useful. Or worse still, provoke you into finally carrying out your ancestral duties.

    Can’t be yours,

    Omoh Giwa

    Department of English, University of Lagos

  • When bullets meet blessings: A letter to Major-General Mamman Vatsa

    When bullets meet blessings: A letter to Major-General Mamman Vatsa

    By Ms Omoh Giwa

    Dear Vatsa,

    How now? I would have sent you felicitations but I’m still uncertain of your permanent celestial coordinates. Do you oscillate between the clearer skies of Mount Olympus, plucking juicy grapes from the palms of fair maidens or do you find yourself in warmer latitudes, something close to Lagos humidity in March and April, where sweat clings to you like an overzealous campaign poster?

    I ask not just for curiosity’s sake (though I admit I’m nosy) but because if the Nigerian Postal Service is to deliver this letter, we must write a precise address.

    Besides, you are an enigma, bearing the image of the murdered poet but with a sprinkle of Caesar’s blood on your battle-weary boots. I hope you won’t find me forward if I pry into your final thoughts that day they tied you to the stake. Did you look at the horizon and see the clouds part for you or was it the same grim dusk that swallowed Major Fajuyi as he stared into the dark circle of the barrel? (And yes, I recall you were under Murtala during the counter-coup of ’66. Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten that chapter.)

    My people say whoever goes to bed with an itchy buttock wakes up with smelly fingers. Now, don’t misinterpret me. I’m not accusing you of walking around with odorous hands. But history, my dear general, has a way of leaving certain stains.

    Now, I did not resurrect you to antagonise you, at least not entirely. I’m genuinely curious if you’ve taken time, in your current eternal posting, to read your war comrade’s autobiography. You know the one I mean. If you haven’t, you should. It’s the sort of book that deserves to be read aloud, preferably with a glass of bourbon to soften the edges of disbelief.

    Tell me honestly: do you consider that tell-all a slap across your ghostly face or will you be requesting a signed copy for your shelves? I find it fascinating how your comrades so often paste memoir or autobiography across what are essentially fictionalised sagas of their gallantry. Like that certain octagenarian who still parades himself as a hero of the Civil War. (No be my mouth you go hear say Pope wear white.)

    But I digress, again. Let me come to the reason I’ve pulled you, dusty boots and all, from your eternal rest. A certain naval chief recently suggested that Nigeria’s insecurity woes may require a “spiritual solution”. Don’t frown; I didn’t say it. And don’t ask why a Naval Chief is moonlighting as a prophet during the 69th anniversary of the Nigerian Navy, dedicating places of worship instead of ships. If you could wind back the clock, would you have summoned clerics to intercede on your behalf, instead of that motley crew of dramatists and novelists who wrote petitions in your defence?

    I can’t entirely blame them for trying. You were a soldier of the arts. Your role in establishing the Writers’ Village for the Association of Nigerian Authors and your poetry collections still speak for you, louder than the rifles did.

    Now, before you suspect me of mockery, let me confess: I actually agree with the naval chief. Yes, I, an unrepentant sceptic in matters of faith. (These days my crisis of belief is so severe that optimism feels like a badly fitted second-hand suit.) But look around. Nigeria’s troubles have long outgrown the realm of the physical. How else do you explain a country where “unknown gunmen” descend on a church in Ondo, raining bullets like it’s holy benediction? Where a young woman boards a BRT bus in Lagos and ends up as another name in our endless obituary list? Or the massacres in Edo, Benue, Plateau, each one a fresh wound on a body already riddled with scars?

    Tell me, in what sane reality can a nation maintain so many interlinked security agencies and yet remain this unsafe? Apart from checking fire extinguishers and tyre expiry dates, can you explain the difference between the FRSC and VIO?

    That’s why I have a modest proposal. One I think even you might admire for its military-style precision. Forget your usual Joint Task Force with their AK-47s and patrol trucks. Let’s assemble a JTF for Heavenly and Spiritual Matters. Operation Holy Water. Imagine it: a coalition of clerics, bishops, imams, traditional priests, and, very importantly, earthly mothers whose bosoms hold the foundations of the earth. I insist on the women. What self-respecting spiritual battalion excludes women and their battalions of invisible minions? We’ve tried tanks, rifles, drones; why not try rosaries, prayer beads and cowrie shells?

    Do not mistake my humour for lightness of heart. Beneath the jest is a deep weariness. You, of all people, should know what it’s like to live in a country where the line between the living and the dead is as thin as the smoke from a rifle’s mouth. We keep saying we’re “holding the line” but it feels like this line is drawn in chalk and the rain clouds are already gathering.

    Before I end, do send my greetings to Christopher Okigbo. Let him know I’ll be sending him a missive soon. We have much to discuss: art, death and the cruel ways they sometimes intersect.

    As for you, sleep easy, if such a thing is possible where you are. And if you do still pray, remember us, citizens who keep waiting for peace as if it were an overdue train that may never arrive.

    Yours in uneasy peace,

    Giwa of the Department of English, University of Lagos.

  • The Audacity of False Prophets, By Omoh Giwa

    The Audacity of False Prophets, By Omoh Giwa

    Dear Omoh Giwa,

    Would you think it satirical to ask how you are faring (considering the state of affairs in Nigeria)? I bring you warm tidings from Osalobuwa (though He dissociates himself from the filth and treachery of a particular individual that claims to be led by the spirit of God).

    I do not envisage a response from the Lioness of Lisabi or the great Awo (like the gods of ancient Greece, there are weightier issues than those iterated in your previous missives like our bets on the VAT brouhaha).

    I am contacting from Nirvana as I could not but notice in your tirades, a disconcerting notion. (Digressively, are you really surprised that over fifteen million Nigerians voted not once but
    twice the nepotistic general or is this your weak attempt at humour?) I have been called ‘Father of Pentecostalism in Nigeria’ several times and it is on this authority I want to discuss the
    subject of Christianity in Nigeria.

    How can you honestly expect a response from He who is addressed as the Holy One of Israel while wallowing in your filth like swine (blocked drainages or heaps of refuse on major roads?
    You are an unclean lot spiritually and physically) However, this is insignificant compared to my reason for writing. I am bothered about the increase in false prophets and the gullibility of
    the sheep.

    When our messiah charged Peter with the care of the flock, it was under the impression that as a religious leader, he would lead and act in the footsteps of the Nazarene but consider the perversion today. I understand the epistle of Paul to Timothy prophesizes that men would be lovers of themselves and practice heresy and idolatry but should this associated with men of the cloth?

    The role of the priest is to act as ambassador between the sheep and the master of the flock but these wolves are more interested in exploiting and extorting the flock than caring for them.

    Remember how politicians hoarded palliatives during the lockdown from the pandemic (do not get me started on the importance of cleanliness and abstinence which you are now being
    compelled to obey but at what cost?), well how did your general overseers care for you (you weren’t expecting anything or the miracle of the five loaves and two fish doesn’t apply to you?)

    Instead they capitalised on avenues to ensure the steady inflow of wealth through tithes and offerings. You don’t believe me? Did one of them not recently boast that he acquired not one but two private jets during the pandemic as though that is a reflection of the gift of the Holy Spirit. A nation enormously blessed with vast reserves of mineral resources yet is the poverty capital of the world coincidentally boasts of elegantly constructed cathedrals but has less than a tenth of the total number of churches in factories that could improve the economy and standard of living. Is this not the same church leader smeared in a sex scandal of funding the
    rich and extravagant life of a certain actress? We particularly like the social media captions of “small girl big God” when they speak of their blessings and source of their lifestyles. Ironically, the blessings are from the pulpit (a gathering of the widow’s mite.

    Jokes! Jokes! Relax, humour is not reserved for the living). What about the one that was exposed as a sexual predator, preying on young girls (you’d probably remember him as the ‘Krest’ Pastor?) and intimidating them when they go public?

    The feigned public outrage and anger lasted mere weeks and the nation carried on, business as usual and service continued as usual. Is he not back on the pulpit and his cathedral bursting at the seams? What about priests that not only engage in fornicating with women but have added young impressionable boys to their list of victims?

    I especially like the one that calls himself “liquid metal” and has turned his church services into a carousal. One time he claimed to be casting demons out of a member and kept kicking and throwing the victim on chairs as though the erring demon is physical and could feel the torture. Do you remember a certain pastor that asked her congregation to tap into her special
    anointing of rearing virgins (I’m as confused as you are) for a paltry sum of one thousand dollars as though God’s blessings could be repackaged for sale like exotic wine? How can you
    be comfortable with the denigration of Christianity? Was the blood of Jesus shed for this? This reminds me of Simon the Sorcerer who attempted to purchase the power of the Holy Spirit but was rebuked by Peter but look at stomach-infrastructure deacons.

    My lengthy harangue seems to have gone off-track because I wanted to address the role of religious leaders in the political affairs of a nation. A certain influential religious leader has
    been tagged ‘Kingmaker’ because a sitting president and British prime minister knelt before him for re-election success (coincidentally didn’t go as planned).

    I wish to remind you of the biblical story of Elijah and Ahab where the prophet faced the dictator without fear even though he knew the implications of such actions. You do remember that Elijah went into hiding for fear of his life and pleaded with God to take his life?

    What do these clergies do with their influence? Amass more wealth, influence and build bigger cathedrals during economic hardship and political unrest/instability when they have been
    charged with speaking truth to the powers that be. Do they even consider creating avenues for economic growth for their members? I guess they have no intention of inheriting the kingdom of God (the Beatitudes).

    My daughter, men of the cassock have become influencers for politicians and have no regard for God whom they profess to call. Have they forgotten the prophecy that God’s judgment will
    start from the church? When did the pulpit become a poverty alleviation scheme? How did the church get to this point where one cannot differentiate the heathens from the righteous? When
    did we lose focus and sight of the goal?

    I think it is time to get off your knees in reverence to your religious leaders (I like how you are quick to quote ‘touch not my anointed…’ does having a pulpit make one God’s anointed?) and
    take the bull by the horns. Our Father considers the prayer of the unrighteous an abomination.

    Yours in His Vineyard, Benson Idahosa.

    Giwa, is of the Department of English, University of Lagos.

  • Dearest Chief Funmilayo Kuti, By Omoh Giwa

    Dearest Chief Funmilayo Kuti, By Omoh Giwa

    Dearest Chief Funmilayo Kuti,

    Would you think me impudent if I offered libations from one feminist to another? Some would accuse me of blasphemy because I called you a feminist but can you blame them? That many self-acclaimed feminists have drifted from the nucleus of the ideology should not affect the objectives; at least one does not throw the baby out with the bathwater. Secondly, the variances
    in feminism might be a reason for their reluctance to call you a feminist; as a house divided cannot stand.

    Mummy Fela, digressively, do you know your most stated legacy is ‘the first Nigerian woman to drive a car’ while they do not even bother to tell us if you bought the car with your “hard earned” money or if it was your husband that taught you how to drive? Nothing just you drove a car, which is still an admirable feat considering that this was a time when women were mere
    incubators to be seen and not heard. Despite your laudable achievements, you are one of the least celebrated women in our collective history. There are monuments erected for Amina,
    Madame Tinubu, Moremi, Idia of Bini but I could find none in your honour.

    I, however, feel duty bound to toot your horn because you are an exceptional woman. You who bore in your loins the one that had death in his pocket –Anikulapo, led a protest (Egba women’s
    Tax Riot) of over 10,000 women which led to the displacement of a ruling Alake or that you were a pioneering member of the defunct NCNC political party that presented the first president of Nigeria –Dr Nnamdi Azikiwe? I wonder how you must have felt to be the first female graduate of the prestigious Abeokuta Grammar School? You took a majestic status for me when I read on your suffragette ideologies and your lonely struggle to ensure that women can vote and be voted for, I couldn’t but wonder how your achievements have been sidelined. How your praises are not sung continuously in the hallowed halls of histories is what baffles me.

    Your striking magnificence has sidetracked me from my real reason for writing. You’re probably wondering why I have troubled your eternal rest and caused you to reminisce on your fatal fall in ’77. This predicament has nothing to do with the Nigeria as a failing state or that a particular dictator might be considering extending his stay. No, this conundrum is so serious that it might cause Hell to freeze over as it threatens our communal freedom.

    Have you been keeping up with the descendants of Eve since your ascension to loftier clouds?

    Can you see what we have done with a well-trod path you and your contemporaries began?

    Trust me; you will be shocked off your throne. Your progenies have desecrated your temples and discarded your laurels for more dignified contemporary issues like nudity and my personal favourite who wears the pants or does the cooking in the home? (all this hostility over should perform household chores?)

    They can go on for hours on Obasanjo’s internet about who should take the front seat in a man’s car; his mother or his wife/girlfriend. When it seems like there would be no resolution,
    they would trade insults which honestly can be tiring after several episodes.
    You know how “Abami Eda” used semi-clad women for his performances? Well we have taken that a notch higher… you see they are often just plain naked, assaulting our ocular senses but
    for the righteous sake of emancipation. Do not mind the busybodies that claim many women use their bodies as marketing and sales incentives. Their bodies their choice you see. Though
    this slogan was initially associated with pro-abortion rights or under-age marriage, is now the appropriate response for those who complain about nudity on national TV. Who cares about
    those grumbling about immorality and whatnot? In the wise lyrics on the precipice of the melodious tune advocating for female emancipation:…if i follow politician… them go call am prostitution… who no like enjoyment? If money dey your pocket, shebi na national budget?

    Well, I am writing because I want to juxtapose your ideals with more contemporary ones. Some could say this brand of emancipation is ridiculing ‘the labours of our heroes past’ (should I
    have said heroine? I would prefer to be politically correct and adapt more gender-neutral language if you’re interested in that sort of thing). They even claim that the gospel according to feminism is destabilizing and undermining previous efforts in liberating the female but I refuse to comment on that. What I often consider is why some are more concerned about trivialities and are focused on rainbows, tattoos, nudity and general hostility and brashness (someone recently pointed out that many women are always on the defensive even when no one is opposing them). Isn’t it possible that women are usually defensive because they have
    been on the receiving end of domination and oppression for too long?

    To think that in your days, when women had no voice, that people would have tried to intimidate and cajole you into silence much worse than we have these days. Despite the hurdles you must have faced, you had a goal to better the lot of the average woman and it was obvious in your notable activities. Your imprints in the representation of women in politics and taxation set a milestone that has erected the structures present today. There’s room for improvement on women in politics, maternal mortality (according to WHO, our rate was the second highest as at 2015), inequality in public service (do you know the Section 127 of the Nigerian Police Act disapproves women getting married/pregnant a few months after graduation from Police college and shall be discharged from the Force except with the approval of the IGP, though this
    does not apply to their male counterparts), domestic violence, date rapes and other injustices against females.

    If you could provide a feminist manual, maybe it would help convince sceptics and unify our movement. Bye for now, Mama Kuti!

    P.S. It has been said one can never get lost if they ask for directions so bear with me. Sun re o!

    Giwa is of the Department of English, University of Lagos.

  • Letter to Chief Awolowo – Omoh Giwa

    Letter to Chief Awolowo – Omoh Giwa

    Dear Chief Awolowo,

    I hope it is not presumptuous of me to ask how you are faring on the ‘Otherside? Your response depends on if you are beyond the Pearly gates or closer to warmer regions. I ask because I am at odds on this paradox. Should you be resting in the bosom of Olodumare, can you quietly whisper in His ears this quagmire I am about to explain to you?

    Are you wondering what this situation is and what can be worse than our sinking economy? Huge debts? Renewed agitations for secession by the Igbo and fresh ones by the Yoruba? Or that we have lost face at the Olympics? Or Hushpuppi is snitching on a ‘respected’ Nigerian Public servant? I think this takes the cake. In my years on earth, I do not think I have heard a more paradoxical yet ironical statement (I know I am exaggerating but when you are through reading this you will be as confused as I am). Since reading the conflicting article, I have been unable to get it off my mind. It has even prevented me from enjoying the Olympics and Big Brother Nigeria. But I digress.

    Nigerians often tag you ‘the best president Nigeria never had’ yet some historical texts put your infamous advice to the Gowon regime led to an economic blockade that claimed the lives of innocent children and women. Am I digressing again? Please forgive me. Your death should absolve you like it did for Abba Kyari. Not the Police one, this is the other one or maybe the third one who can even keep up with these things?

    Before your ascension to loftier heights beside the Big guy (you’ve been gone for quite a while o! What do you people do all day up there because it seems to be affecting His responses to our calls o!), you saw Mr Integrity usurp power from a civilian right? Well would you believe that over fifteen million Nigerians voted him back to power? Would you believe that he is in liaison with your successor (I mean your ‘Leader of the Yoruba’ successor). As though this was not bad enough, they gave him their vote of confidence a second time.

    Kwarupshion Undertaker, either oblivious to the paradoxical-irony of his statement or an insensitive attempt to mock us, in London said: A person cannot succeed outside his personal educational qualification and whoever misses education has missed everything.

    This is not the first time Mr Principled would make such an ironical statement. Do you remember his first speech after hijacking power from Shagari? He said, ‘The planless downright incompetence and irresponsibility which characterised the current government… The Nigerian Army could not stand idly by while this country was drifting towards a dangerous state of political and economic collapse through the continued ineptitude and insensitiveness of a political leadership who were apparently unwilling to change’.

    Even his first regime cannot be considered as a successful dictatorship, yet he kept touting himself the messiah Nigeria needed. You would think he’d see the symbolism in his speech then and his administration now but like I said, it is either flying over his head or he mocks us behind his newspaper while eating the finest beef jerky the First kitchens can provide. How can you be the thing you hate so much?

    You think that was ridiculous? The same man whose certificate was in contention down to falsified documents and misspelled names stated the importance of education and how one can never move beyond the level of their educational qualification. Such impetus! Can you see what is troubling me yet? If a person can never succeed above their level of educational qualification and his is suspicious, what does that spell of our collective fate? Doom? Destruction?

    His leadership saw our debt increase with two major recessions and inflation so high it seems we are reaching for the clouds yet he cannot see the truth in his statement and do the honourable thing. You’d think he would surround himself with professionals right? Do not get me started on the crop of advisers he has surrounded himself with. Did you see the viral video where the former Minister for Health said not every doctor can be a specialist? He was asked what was being done about the mass relocation of doctors out of Nigeria and his response was that after several years of studying, examinations and training not all of them would practice and some should learn a trade like farming. He added that his tailor was a doctor while wearing his impeccable bespoke attire.

    You do not want to get me started on the below poverty-line of many Nigerian professors, teachers, doctors, engineers, lawyers etc. Graduates of higher learning after years of unemployment diversify to menial jobs yet the Integrity General claims one cannot rise above their educational qualifications. What educational qualification did he present before leading the most populous black nation? What qualification did his red-eyed friend in Ikoyi present before being tagged Asiwaju?

    Bloomberg in March of this year claims that the unemployment rate in Nigeria is the second highest in the world with 33% as more than half of our labour force is either unemployed or underemployed yet Corruption General makes this statement at a summit in London publicly if I might add.

    I wonder if he considers himself a comedian otherwise how does he account for this true yet false (or is it false yet true) statement especially for Nigerians. That one cannot move beyond their educational qualification might be the case for others but not for us as our Integrity Police is proof of the contradiction of this statement.

    Bye?

    Omoh Giwa

    Department of English

    University of Lagos

    P.S. I hope I’m not intruding on your eternal rest? Why should our ancestors rest when their adherents can’t?