Posts Tagged ‘ethics’

Faith without understanding – tolerance

titles - priests, deities, spirits, prophets and substance

Faith without understanding – the lesson
Having been born to a family that tolerated Islam only out of prudence, and now discovered how unreliable even Christian church priests can be, Arowona as a young boy was at a loss what to make of the very notion of God and worship. Quite early in life he started to distinguish between what people or institutions make of titles (like priests, deities, spirits, prophets) and the real substance supposed to be behind those titles. He became sharply aware of great differences between ideal roles and the practical implementation of those roles.

Upon asking many elderly Muslim adults including imams the meanings of specific Arabic words and names they used, he was given inconsistent explanations that varied widely not only between those supposed to know but even between the views expressed by the same individual imam at different moments. This convinced his young mind that much of the religious preaching among Muslims chanting words in Arabic was meaningless to those chanting them. Arowona realised that they had only crammed those Arabic chants by force, without understanding what they were chanting. This plus the intimidating use of flogging and force by akomonikewu (Muslim teachers) at Answarudeen school immediately ruled out Islam from any possibility of being accepted in whatever form by him as a young boy.

Arowona’s decisive rejection of Islam at such an early age before teenage, had little to do with any understanding of the thematic contents of Islamic teaching. However, the more he learned about Christian teaching, the more he preferred that to Islam. Later at middle age, when he read about Islam, Christianity, Hinduism and Buddhism in some detail, it became obvious to him that many of the principles of Islam were adopted in imitation of Christian principles. He also found out that Christian principles were in turn modifications or generalisations of Hebrew or Judaic notions.

All three religions claim the God of the same Abraham, preach the life of Moses, claim Adam and Eve to be the first humans created in God’s six-day project of creating the universe. All three believe in the myth about Noah and his ark. All regard Jerusalem as a holy place.

In contrast to Islamic schools, at his Christian school – All Saints Primary school, Ojowo / Atikori, there was no arbitrary beating of pupils during religious teaching. On the other hand, it was a Christian priest who had been caught and publicly disgraced as a thief. The folly of this specific priest was clarified to him in lessons on the Catechism at Sunday school. With his class teacher Ogunnubi as god-father, and a friendly school mistress Adedeji as god-mother, Arowona was baptised a Christian in the big church of his school, soon followed by his confirmation service, all without his family in attendance.

Decades later, he discovered that his very own father, now Muslim for convenience in his trade, had been named Solomon as a Christian at birth, and had attended the same Christian school at the beginning of the 20th century. Arowona felt himself to be a Christian at heart. He attended Sunday school, read the English Bible which specifically was St James VI version, and prayed using Christian concepts. He rejected Islam but remained tolerant of Muslims as individuals. (See African development struggle amidst hindrances – a Yoruba case)

Utmost disgrace – parade of Aladura church-priest as burglar

parade whips burglars stark naked, loss of respect, wearing thorn-bearing nettle leaves, imprisonment

Utmost disgrace -
Early in the afternoon, a teaming but orderly crowd emerged with an unforgetable parade up the main street of that Ijebu town, featuring the judicial council headed by chief Balogun himself in his official regalia surrounded by police security and a team of tough, muscular men with hide-skin whips in their hands. From every house, street and corner along the miles-long main street, children swarmed into the crowd joining in the shouted cry of ‘thief, thief, thief that you are ! ‘ directed at a gang of sweating, miserable, dark, muscular middle-age men in handcuffs.

They were the very three thieves who had burgled Omo Oba’s house; now they were in open exhibition right in the middle of the public procession. These three men at the real heart of the spectacular exhibition in the procession were all married men with wives and children. They were being matched by Kobolese club through the town to a large sports field on a school ground to get their final punishment in complete openness.

That the three thieves were each a very familiar face for everyone, and before that moment quite respectable locally, was in itself a big surprise for everyone in the crowd. Most shocking of all was for little children, boys and girls, men and women, young and old to all see those three adult thieves stark naked down to the full exposure of their pubic hair and penis – a height of humiliation, shame and emotionally most painful dejection in African society. It meant a total loss of respect for them by every onlooker – including children and women. At the slightest attempt by any of the three to cover his penis with his hands, the team of muscular men following behind them with cow-hide whips at hand would flog him so hard that it left lines of bleeding marks on the thief’s skin.

Stark naked as these thieves were being paraded, they were yet adorned around their necks and down their backs in a most befitting, unadmirable and unbearably itching attire of loose hanging, freshly plucked, thorn-bearing, green stinging nettle leaves from the werepe plant that prickles with a burning feeling on the skin. The painful discomfort from those leaves alone was enough to make anyone feel crazy within just a few moments. Those three thieves faced the pain of wearing the burning leaves as garments throughout the hours that the procession lasted, and they got flogged at every attempt to scratch their itching skin.

When the parade finally arrived at its destination on a school sports field, the thieves were queried again, made to promise never again to be found involved in any case of theft, and to promptly report anyone they knew was involved in such. They were then sentenced to further flogging by a team of muscular men. In addition to imprisonment, they were forced to disclose the whereabouts of the stolen goods.

Aladura church-priest was a burglar  -
No doubt, the idea behind the parade and open exhibition of the three thieves was to deter others young and old from ever daring to burgle any home or steal in any form. It worked by bringing an abrupt end to the wave of robberies in that town. For many years thereafter, no case of burglary arose. However, the most surprising point of this specific burglary case is that among those three thieves who were disgracefully flogged and matched naked in a town-wide procession, was the church priest – the Aladura apostle who previously had been blessing and baptising so many new Christian converts in his church service with claims of healing prayer. That shocking discovery turned out to be extremely revealing to young minds like Arowona’s about the preachers of religion and their very pretentious holy messages.

- Continued in Faith without understanding – tolerance

  (See African development struggle amidst hindrances – a Yoruba case)

Kobolese – African effective solution to burglary wave

anti-theft club - night quarrel diverts attention - sensational parade eliminated home burglaries

Kobolese – African effective solution to burglary wave
The local customary judiciary council chose to tackle the burglary case in such a way as would have lasting impact on the then rampant wave of robberies in the town. They set up a town-wide neighbourhood security watch movement appropriately called egbe Kobolese (meaning society of those who reject ties with thieves). For this, every adult male was approached for membership. Obviously only thieves would refuse to enlist in such a club. Having booked wide membership, with a liaison in every neighbourhood, Kobolese then pressed every member for any information he knew about suspicious surreptitious activities,  evidence or observations that could be useful in identifying the thieves involved in recent robberies. Under threat of implication in theft if afterwards found to have withheld useful information, many people told with considerable detail all they knew, saw, suspected or found.

Among the findings of the council was the fact that either the husband or wife who had been quarelling in  Omo Oba’s house in the night of the robbery, was party to the very robbery that took place in Omo Oba’s room. Someone had deliberately started the loud quarrel of the night, so as to lure those at home, especially Omo Oba himself as the head of the household, to gather downstairs, thereby leaving the rooms upstairs free for one of the thieves to enter, who was already inside the house. The night quarrel in that house was a trick to divert attention to downstairs so that the thieves could strike upstairs.

One of the thieves did indeed quietly make his way upstairs; for it was him who had collected Omo Oba’s clothes from cupboards, bundled them up as the packet he threw down via the side window to the two other thieves waiting below on the side street. The sound that woke Arowona and Doyin  from their night’s sleep with a heavy thud was from that first bundle.

Arowona and Doyin had witnessed how the two thieves below picked up two more packets thrown down by the first thief from the neighbour’s upstairs window. They also witnessed how the two thieves below carried the packets together running towards the back of the side street and vanished in the direction of the nearby bushy cemetery grounds. In the darkness of that night, Arowona and Doyin could not see identifiable faces of the thieves, but just dark silhouettes that indicated no more than the rough statures of the thieves.

Some fortnight or so later, the whole town witnessed a most spectacular judicial event that for many years afterwards effectively eliminated home burglaries in the whole town. This cleansing event itself was a uniquely original African judicial solution welcomed and implemented with support from all town residents. This event came as the crowning result of the superbly thorough investigatory work of the Kobolese movement. On the eventful day, school children were sent home earlier than usual and encouraged to await a sensational parade that was to pass along the main street of the town. -

Continued in Utmost disgrace – parade of Aladura church-priest as burglar

(See African development struggle amidst hindrances – a Yoruba case)

Aladura Apostle – the church Priest

Yoruba bible, Alleluya, miracles, prophecies, baptism in river,

- Aladura Apostle – the church Priest
It was from his Pariola family background of prudent religious attitude in the 1950′s that Arowona – a young African school boy and his brother were taken by their mother, occasionally accompanied by two of his aunties – mama Eko – to some local evening church singing and prayer services. That was in a home-turned-church led by a tall, dark, energetic priest in immaculate white-robes, in Agbole Olowu district in Ijebu. With a Yoruba bible in one hand, a bronze bell in the other hand, this priest – called simply Aladura, (meaning prayer-man or priest) rang, shouted and slapped words of godly prayer unto the heads of his followers. There was intermittent spraying of blessed water into their faces, amidst hitted Christian songs and dancing, punctuated by loud chorus shouts of the words Alleluya!, Amin!, Jeeesuuh! by his sweating dancing audience. It was all very entertaining and quite an overwhelming air of apostolic christian religion.

Symbolically, prior to washing off their sins in prayer in turns, some of the audience would literally hop into an outdoor fence-walled bathroom in the priest’s backyard to wash themselves with sunlight soap and pre-blessed bucket of water, loudly reciting desirous words of prayer, psalms or songs. Then after drying the body and dressing up in clean clothes, they would one at a time, each present himself or herself to the exclusive prayer-room of the priest attended by nobody else but this holy priest for spiritual cleansing sessions. In such exclusive secret setting each one heard private prophecies or asked for special godly favours.

From the predominance of women who attended those exclusive sessions, there were rumours that some women were touched by more than spiritual hands on their erotic, bodily sensitive parts during such intimate prayer moments. Some even made a mockery of it by changing the wording of the songs into erotic rhymes. Even if small, this was a Christian body – giving Arowona a direct touch of Christianity.

Yet, during the services, often enough, some women would suddenly burst into ecstasy and start to tremble, shake, and mutter unintelligible or incoherent words, apparently claiming to be possessed by some spirit – holy spirit – with a specific personal message for someone in the audience. One such spiritual message was directed at one of the women from Arowona’s house – the youngest wife of baba Ilorin. The holy spirit speaking in tongues through someone in ecstasy implored her to abandon her evil tendencies without being specific as to what those were. The priest would then interpret the message to the individual in a confidential room; yet with the heroic, religious acclaim of a miracle by his audience. One hardly needs to add that news of such ‘miracles‘ spread like wild fire, and led to huge increases in the size of this priest’s church audience.

On one afternoon occasion, a special baptismal church session was held in river Oshun, to which his audience walked tens of kilometres, singing and dancing all the way. There was the very sight of this priest standing in the river in his full white ankle-long robe with wrist-reaching sleeves, dompeling fully-clothed new converts one by one into the river, making the sign of the cross on their head to baptise them. The sight of that baptism left a permanent picture in Arowona’s mind; a picture invoked by every reference to John the Baptist. The very attendance by Pariola members is evidence of the local fame and success of this Aladura priest’s Christian group.

Continued in Aladura Apostle – the church Priest

(See African development struggle amidst hindrances – a Yoruba case)

Religion confronts African Trade:

scriptural conversion, missionary Christianity

- Religion confronts African Trade:
In Islam, the same African respect for openness, practicality and demonstrated truth became endangered not just by scriptural conversion but literally by force of the sword. Islam being a totalitarian religion in that it seeks domination of state as well as private life wherever Islam came, prominent families had to conform or pretend to conform to its demands. This was certainly the case for the Pariola family whose trading radius spanned from rain-belt Ijebu farms near Lagos on the Atlantic coast to the arid north of Ilorin.

Note that Pariola family trade dates from after the Yoruba kingdom of Old Oyo was defeated and dominated by Fulani Muslims. In short, Pariola’s family could not remain effective traders with the Islamic north without showing at least symbolic allegiance to Islam. Nor could the family alienate its growing southern Christian community where missionary Christianity was dominated by a European (mostly British) colonial administration that monopolised all import-export trade certainly until the 20th century.

Continued in Trade and Appellations of Pariola family – an Ijebu case

See African development struggle amidst hindrances – a Yoruba case)

African development struggle amidst hindrances – a Yoruba case

Aruno Ishola Apala music, D.Sc Nobel Laureate, multimillionaire - yet poor ! Why?

African development struggle amidst hindrances – a Yoruba case

Introduction:
Much has been written by Europeans about Africa’s development, without specific reference to the dynamics of change within generations of extended African families and communities. Let us cover some of this neglect by treating the direct experience of one notable native African family among the Yoruba tribe in West Africa, the shift in their local power, their change of fortune and manner of wealth, the transmission or loss of resources between generations, religious choices made and much more.

Violent political changes, colonisation, poverty and previous lack of educational opportunities have had severe influence on the slow pace of Africa’s economic development. But despite these, many reputable Africans do populate the faculties of institutions of higher education at home and abroad. Africa has produced Nobel Prize winners, including Wole Soyinka – a Yoruba. Many African families have become extremely rich industrialists, such as multi-millionaire Odutola who set up modern factories for making tyres, mattresses and household products. Yet after such successful individual Africans die, their wealth, fame and work simply go into oblivion.*

So it was with the highly successful Yoruba musician Aruno Ishola who made the Apala genre of music popular even outside Nigeria. So it was with Ayo Awojobi, the Nigerian engineering professor with D.Sc degree (note: that is higher than Ph.D) from London’s Imperial College who rated among the topmost high-tech specialists on the planet.

Why upon the death of a prominently successful African (successful by international standards), does their prominence vanish with them rather than be transmitted to the generations left behind? Answers to this may give clues to the perpetual puzzle about Africa’s slow rate of development despite the continent’s big stock of academicians and despite the continents huge natural and human resources. From a practical case, let us seek some clues to this problem.

As a project of Factuality Research Library, as author I recently (2008) visited 17th century slave-trading centres in West Africa looking for surviving  traces of the Slave Trade. Personally, I lived and worked in Europe and America for decades, and published outstanding books over the origins, nature and impacts of English and Dutch cultures which are often covered in the term Anglo-Saxon. This direct account on Africa is from first-hand experience; it is relevant and most likely to be revealing in ways not earlier so viewed.

Hopefully, the following insight on African life cuts deeper into African culture than western views could, if only because it combines highest level western education with academic work experience in Africa, America and Europe with the rare advantage of both the social sciences and the technical fields. In this account, I want to pool these advantages in unveiling deep-lying trends of change in several generations of an West African family – Pariola family – one I know only too well from life as a Yoruba and Ijebu.  Continued  Do see:

• Origin of the Yoruba people
• Origin of the Ijebu people
• Religion confronts African Trade
• Trade and Appellations of Pariola family – an Ijebu case
  
• Aladura Apostle – the church Priest
• Foreign religious hypocrisy corrupts Africa
• Church credibility at stake – burglary witnessed live !
• Kobolese – African effective solution to burglary wave
• Utmost disgrace – parade of Aladura church-priest as burglar
• Faith without understanding – the lesson

The Fugitive Pastor in Amazing Religious Cloak

A prophet's religious spiritual awakening into crime, Anti-Theft Society,

This is a first-hand narrative of the amazing abuse of the power of the religious cloak of a pastor who in desperation chose exile from the kingdom of Oba Orimolusi – a medium-sized Yoruba town in the 1950′s. It is told by an eye-witness young boy – Arrow – who together with hundreds of adult men, women and children actually followed the effective local drive for justice in the Oba’s kingdom that at the time suffered a wave of burglaries. Everyone, from the king down to the school children and their families, supported the public call for action, vigilance and justice.

Like in other places around the world, the fear generated by the crime wave induced more people to pray for safety and security, seeking religious approaches to comfort and wealth. In particular, small protestant, local churches benefited, which were set up by individuals without special training for the purpose, but nevertheless portrayed all paraphernalia of religious purity and spiritual awakening.

One such church was that founded in the town’s quarter Agbole Olowu by Woli (literally meaning ‘prophet‘) – a tall, lanky, strong, dark man always clad in a long white robe with a wide apron embroidered with the Holy Cross. In his cloak and robe, he was the perfect image of an apostle of Christ. Woli’s church style easily appealed to women by featuring loud singing, clapping, dancing, praying aloud with feats of spontaneous spiritual possession, bodies shaking, speaking in tongues and muttering strange sounding words that only prophet Woli could translate. Amidst shouts of ‘Hallelo ! Hallelujah!’, and cries of confessions of sin, the prophet would ring his bell as he read portions of the Holy Bible – usually the Psalms. Periodically, he took his followers to a nearby river to baptise them in ordained water of God, reading the section of the bible in which Jesus was baptised by John the Baptist.

Ceaselessly evoking ‘the name of Jesus Christ‘, he would talk with ‘visions‘ of past and future events he had seen concerning specific individuals there present, warn someone of impending dangers if this did not repent, and recommend that the individual concerned should come into his secret inner prayer-room for exclusive prayer-sessions lit by candles blessed by him. That encouraged many women to seek his help against the challenges of tough times in their homes, in their trade, in their family ties and in their major decisions of life. That also brought him into close intimacy with some of the women, thus provoking possibly sexually loaded advances from him.

Rumours were fed by the ecstasy of the setting, in particular the evening sessions that usually indulged him with long secret moments with some woman alone, while he washed her in prayer-water to cleanse away her sins or ward off her impending danger. Loud music and dancing by others outside, always diverted public attention away from whatever he was up to with the secluded woman of the moment. As Woli’s church grew, he commanded certain respect in the community, even among non-members of his home-made church.

Meanwhile, the wave of burglary in the town led rich households to hire night-watchmen to parade their neighbourhood at night to prevent any raid of their own homes. From this practice came the song about one such night-watchman called Jantioje Alatoto, and his wife Wura Olomi Enu. On one occasion at night, Jantioje actually caught a burglar in the act, shot the culprit who fled, bleeding along as he escaped into the nearby woods. The following morning, traces of his dripped blood were followed to the burglar’s hiding place deep in the forest of a river valley, to recover some of the goods he had stolen. But the burglar had escaped anyway. To combat such, the town set up a body called Kobolese – meaning Anti-Burglary Society – in which most men voluntarily became active members, if only to show their innocence.

In Oke-Sopin quarter of the town lived a young boy – Arrow – alone with a house girl, keeping a shop for his parents who had other shops in other towns. From the sales from his shop, Arrow always had relatively large sums of money in house. He was therefore often afraid that thieves could burgle into his house on the hillside as he slept in his father’s parlour above the shop. As a result, he was easily awakened at night by any noise from the surrounding. The more so, there was still no electricity and hence no street lighting in the town back in the 1950′s. Moonlight provided the only light outside at night.

One night after closing the shop, and eating dinner, Arrow and his house-girl Doyin settled down to sleep upstairs in the parlour above the shop. Deep into that night, he and his house girl were awakened by the voices of people quarrelling in the house next-door. There lived prince Omo-Oba, son of a deceased Oba of the town, hence rich, in a large household with many rooms front and back, plus a two-storey front building, like Arrow’s house. Apparently, the noise was from a quarrel between a husband and wife in that house, with their housemates trying to settle the quarrel. Prince Omo Oba’s parlour and bedroom were also upstairs in his house next-door, with the side windows facing corresponding louvre windows in Arrow’s house.

Tired and sleepy, Arrow and his house girl tried to continue their night’s sleep, but then heard one heavily thudded ‘boom!!!’ sound – suggesting something heavy that fell outside. Scared and alert, Arrow and Dele both very quietly tip-toed to their louvre window facing the side where the sound seemed to have come from. There through the slits of the louvres, they saw in dark silhouette, two dark men below on the side street facing prince Omo Oba’s house, with some large bundle on the ground next to them. They saw how the two men picked up part of the bundle, fidgeting with it, then carrying and running with it heavy in their hands as they ran towards the back of the house in the direction of the woods.

Soon, Arrow and Dele saw the two silhouette figures run back to take position again. Scared to death, keeping frozen still, and afraid to be seen, Arrow and Dele watched every move of the two silhouette figures outside. They also saw a third silhouette figure appear in an open window upstairs next door, who threw another bundle down from prince Omo Oba’s room to the two waiting men below on the side street.

All that time, the quarrelling noise from that same house next door continued intermittently, apparently from some room downstairs towards the back of that house. Later, the quarrelling sound died out for a little while, and the night seemed to become quiet, only to be followed by a loud alarming shout from upstairs by the voice of prince Omo Oba himself. The following morning at the break of daylight, neighbours were alerted to hear that Omo Oba’s bedroom upstairs had been burgled at night and his expensive clothes stolen from his wardrobe while he went downstairs to help settle the quarrel between a couple in his household. This very case got all attention possible from the town’s local justice system to investigate with the participation of everyone in the neighbourhood.

Town authorities were consulted, the magistrate court judge  – Balogun, a man of very high integrity was made chairman of a special enquiry to investigate the case. The investigation was assisted by leaders of the Kobolese Anti-Burglary Society. As a result, a housemate of prince Omo Oba was accused, who confessed and named the rest of his burglary team. They were all arrested. Most amazing of all was the discovery that the popular pastor – Woli was among those accused. Not only that, from interrogation of the team of burglars, the shocking fact was revealed that the brain behind the whole burglary operation was the pastor – Woli, the prophet of God. The very man who had been baptising others and speaking in tongues in accordance with the Holy Bible. This did not only mark the end of his preaching career. The punishment handed down was befitting, creative and very effective.

After weeks of imprisonment of the team of burglars pending investigation, the town made a special day of their final day of court trial with extensive public participation in punishing them in a very unique way more devastating than the  death sentence. The burglars, all three married men with children, were paraded stark naked through the main streets of the town from the big market square in Atikori quarters, kilometres away to the king’s palace, followed by a huge crowd of school children for which schools were closed just for the occasion. Women and girls were encouraged to line the streets to see and spit at the handcuffed thieves. These were wearing a scanty garment of thorny ‘werepe‘ leaves that awfully itch the skin, while anyone was allowed to flog them with cow-hide whips. With this great humiliation, the pastor and his team were matched to a school yard where school children booed at them, everyone shouted ‘thief !, thief ! thief !‘ at them, and they got public flogging by Kobolese members before being matched to prison to serve jail terms. As if by magic, the wave of burglaries in the town stopped there and then.

Years after, when they were finally released from jail, the thieves vanished from town and were never heard of again. The wife of the pastor quit his home, and nobody ever heard of him or his family after that. One huge impact of this very case derived from the sheer religious hypocrisy of the pastor’s church. Not only did his church collapse totally, thereafter, nobody ever dared attempt to set up such a one-man’s church in that town again; if only because everyone had become suspicious of religious delusion and of whoever wears apostolic garments. The fugitive pastor in effect brought a unique amazing local solution to a menacing problem of waves of burglaryabout sixty years ago. That generation of people is gone, and the menace is now creeping in again.

VRIJHEID en LIEFDE

– Respect Verantwoordelijkheid Opvoeding Workaholic

Roulieta – een mooie, slanke dame, was al jaren getrouwd met Arbenis – een hard werkende vrachtwagen chauffeur, een zeer gewenste kanjer van een vent. Zij hadden een jongen – Jaap die niets mocht ontbreken en erg verwend was. Van zijn moeder had hij heel vroeg een bijzonder gevoel voor eigen vrijheid aangeleerd. Van Roulieta hoorde iedereen dat Arbenis een workaholic was, daar hij vaak voor lange tijd met zijn vrachtwagen op reis was. In vele steden was hij bekend, zeker bij winkeldames van middelgrote buurtwinkels die zo’n handige, sterke man graag zien komen voor het bezorgen van verse producten. Vol jaloezie sprakken vriendinnen van Roulieta over de mooie aanblik en werkdrang van Arbenis dat hij, zeker als een vrachtwagen chauffeur, vele vrouwen langs zijn route zou hebben die op hem wachten.

Roulieta speelde graag de ‘lady beautiful‘ die om veel aandacht van mannen in haar buurt vroeg en kreeg, alleen al door al de mooie kleding die haar man Arbenis altijd voor haar uit chique winkels tijdens zijn reis kocht. Vaak kreeg zij verschillende mannen onder haar lakens door te zeuren dat zij ‘s avonds weer helemaal alleen in bed moest slapen omdat haar man workaholic was. Of die nou alleenstaande of getrouwde mannen waren, maakte voor Roulieta niets uit. Dat zij in het dorp bekend stond als het  ‘Lellebel‘, wist Arbenis gelukkig niet; hij bleef hard werken om heel goed voor haar en voor hun zoon te zorgen.

Jaap werd als kind zeer bewust gemaakt van eigen vrijheid door zijn modieuze moeder. Hij ging overal en bij iedereen thuis spelen om indruk te maken op anderen met het speelgoed dat zijn vader voor hem uit verre landen meebracht. Jaap was vrij om te komen en gaan waar en wanneer hij maar wilde. Hij was bij elk huishouden welkom en hield andere kinderen constant bezig. Dat vond Roulieta juist fijn, want het gaf haar het excuus om thuis bij anderen te mogen binnenvallen op zoek naar haar zoon, terwijl zij eigenlijk toenadering zocht bij de mannen. Dat Jaap zo verwend was, en naar niemand luisterde, heeft wel zijn leven beïnvloed zoals hier volgt:

Op een dag zat Jaap voor zijn huis te spelen met de spaken van het wiel van een nog draaiende motor van één van de minnaars van zijn moeder terwijl zij binnen graag in alle rust met die man alleen wou zijn. Toen een voorbijganger haar toe riep dat Jaap gevaar liep door niet van de motor af te blijven, antwoordde Roulieta hardop door haar slaapkamerraam, dat men hem met rust moest laten om volledig van zijn vrijheid te genieten en zo op zijn manier te leren. Moeder ging verder met haar vrije liefde, en Jaap ging verder met zijn vrijheid. Plotseling kwam een vinger van Jaap tussen de ketting en de spaken van de motor, waardoor de helft van die vinger werd afgerukt en erg bloedde. Zo verloor Jaap een deel van zijn vinger, en werd daarom door andere jongens op school vaak bespot. Hij raakte daaraan gewend, was sterk en wist soms zelfs meisjes te versieren.

Jaren later toen Jaap groot was, ging hij in de grote stad werken en op zichzelf wonen. Goed verdienen of niet, mooie ogen of niet, het lukte hem gewoon niet om een vrouw te vinden omdat hij met zijn halve vinger vaak voor crimineel werd aangezien. Keer op keer was hij op dames verliefd, en iedere keer liep het uit op niks, vanwege zijn opvallend korte vinger. Zijn leeftijdsgenoten waren allemaal reeds getrouwd en hadden eigen kinderen, maar hij was nog alleenstaand. Op een bepaald moment was hij erg verliefd op een dame en wilde graag met haar trouwen. Toen die weer weigerde was hij het zat en werd boos. Zeer bezorgd daarover, ging hij terug naar zijn dorp om aan zijn ouders te vragen hoe het kwam dat hij die halve vinger had.

Zijn vader Arbenis trof hij alleen thuis. Die was inmiddels zeer oud, erg eenzaam en verdrietig omdat zijn vrouw Roulieta inmiddels was weggelopen. Arbenis liet Jaap weten dat hij altijd veel van zijn vrouw en zoon hield, dat hij zijn hele leven zo hard moest werken om hen van het goede leven te kunnen voorzien. Het deed Arbenis pijn dat juist zijn inspanning daartoe door zijn vrouw werd bespot door hem een workaholic te noemen in plaats van zijn toewijding te waarderen, en uit liefde hun huwelijk te respecteren. Hij werd zelfs de oudste nog rijdende vrachtwagen chauffeur ooit. Maar hij schonk nooit aandacht aan andere vrouwen onderweg; puur uit respect voor de liefde tussen hem en zijn eigen vrouw thuis. Hoe mooi die ook waren, hij ging nooit in op hun pogingen om hem te verleiden. Hij was daarom ook nooit met zedelijke ziekten besmet zoals vele vrachtwagen chauffeurs. Maar nu was zijn vrouw met een buurman Vincent gaan wonen die bij haar thuis in bed was betrapt. Met heiligste overtuiging zei Arbenis dat hij op reis was en niet thuis toen Jaap zijn vinger kwijt raakte,  en dat aldus zijn moeder het tijdens het spelen met een motor was. Arbenis verwees Jaap dus naar het huis waar Roulieta met haar minnaar Vincent nu samen woont.

Met nog meer verdriet en frustratie, verliet Jaap zijn vader, en ging op zoek naar zijn moeder Roulieta om opheldering. Onderweg zag hij de vrouw Linda, die inmiddels oud, van haar man Vincent was gescheiden nadat hij op heterdaad in bed met Roulieta was betrapt. Sindsdien woonden beide minnaars samen. In hun kort gesprek daar op straat, vertelde Linda Jaap dat zij zich die dag nog kon herinneren dat Jaap, toen nog klein, het ongeluk met zijn vinger kreeg. Linda had op die dag Jaap gewaarschuwd om niet te spelen met een draaiende motor, maar zijn moeder Roulieta zei toen dat men hem in zijn vrijheid moest laten. Linda had op die dag Vincent, toen nog haar man, zien thuiskomen met zijn motor vol met bloed, geschokt omdat Jaap zijn vinger kwijt was. Ineens was alles voor Jaap nu duidelijk; dat maakte hem niet alleen bozer, maar nu eigenlijk gloeiend heet geworden van ziels-kwellende pijn. Met grote roekeloosheid en wanhoop ging Jaap naar het huis van Vincent waar zijn moeder met haar nieuwe ‘liefde‘ nu woont.

Daar buiten in de tuin, trof Jaap Vincent aan, oud geworden naast het wrak van die oude motor, naast een verroeste oude bijl. Op de groet, “Goede dag!” van Vincent gaf Jaap geen antwoord, en liep direct naar zijn moeder binnen. Met woede regende het een reeks vragen van Jaap aan Roulieta: Wat deed zij nu bij Vincent? Waarom was zij van zijn toegewijde vader weggelopen? Waarom was zijn vinger afgerukt? Waarom had Roulieta zo weinig besef van haar verantwoordelijkheid als moeder om hem als kind te weerhouden van zulk groot gevaar? Toen Roulieta beweerde dat zij van Jaap als haar kind en nog steeds als jonge man hield en hem vrijheid had gegeven, werd Jaap juist woedender. Dit omdat haar betoog juist bewees dat zij van liefde niets afwist; ook al was zij een moeder die twee mannen wist te verslijten. Vrijheid maar onverantwoord? Liefde die twee gezinnen kapot maakte?

Boos legde Jaap Roulieta uit dat nu niemand, geen meisje en geen vrouw hem met zijn halve vinger wilde. Huilend met luide stem haalde Jaap naar zijn moeder uit dat hij haar daarvoor volledig verantwoordelijk hield vanwege haar verzuim om vooral in de liefde respect te tonen voor haar huwelijk met zijn vader, en om verantwoorde liefde aan hem te geven als haar kind dat gevaar niet kon inzien. “Wat had ik moeten doen?“, vroeg de moeder. “Boem, boem !!!” kwamen de klappen uit de handen van Jaap op zijn moeder” – als boos antwoord. Toen haar vertroebelde minnaar – Vincent probeerde tussen beiden te komen, haalde Jaap ook flink uit naar hem. Ineens had Jaap de bijl uit de tuin in zijn hand. “Dat je die klappen destijds niet aan mij had uitgedeeld, kwam niet uit liefde voor mij maar uit lust voor deze hebzuchtige man. Liever de klappen toen dan nu een halve vinger! Dit moet je wel leren!”, riep Jaap. Onbeheerst, met een flinke zwaai van Jaap met de bijl, werd een hand van zijn moeder ter hoogte van de pols plotseling afgehakt. Niet uit wraak, maar uit boosheid in onbeheerste vrijheid.

Door alle commotie had zich buiten een menigte gevormd, waaronder oudere mannen die niet durfde in te grijpen uit angst dat hun eigen liefdes avonturen met de nu bebloede Roulieta misschien daar ook boven water zou komen. Net zoals Jaap voor de rest van zijn leven met de kwelling van een halve vinger moest leven, moest zijn moeder nu ook voor de rest van haar leven met een afgesneden hand leven.

Dit is waar gebeurd; in zoverre deze auteur zelf Jaap met een halve vinger heeft gezien. Uiteraard zijn andere namen hier genoemd. Het speelde zich af in een cultuur waar respect nog deel uitmaakte van kinderopvoeding. Heden wordt een kind dat amper kan lopen al geleerd om zelfs mensen ouder dan zijn opa bij hun voornamen te noemen.

De liefde van ouders voor hun kind, van man en vrouw voor elkaar, van buren voor buren, van elk mens voor de medemens, kan niet echt zijn zonder het bijbehorende respect en zonder het besef van de verantwoordelijkheid voor datgene wat men anderen aandoet door louter lust als liefde te willen bekleden. Wie zegt geen liefde te kunnen geven, zegt daarmee dat zijn eigen ziel niet beter is dan een brokkelige steen. Wie een bestaande liefde tussen een stel bederft of bedreigt, is verantwoordelijk voor de gevolgen op het paar, op hun pijn en leven, en zou ooit ervoor kunnen boeten.

Het gebrek aan respect voor de opbloeiende liefde tussen twee mensen veroorzaakt altijd onnodig pijn en ellende in het leven. Aan een kind te vroeg, te veel vrijheid geven vóórdat het een eigen vereiste verantwoordelijkheidsgevoel ontwikkelt, is schadelijk voor zijn eigen ego. Het bederft de kracht om respect en waardering te hebben voor anderen. Het respect voor je medemens, buren, docenten en ouderen in het algemeen lijdt dan daaronder, evenzo de maatschappij.

Helping Nigerian accident victim turns to own tragedy

no first-aid for hit-and-run road victims - good Samaritans suffer

Hospital detains traffic victim helper
Every work day, impenetrable traffic jam on Lagos streets makes it impossible to enjoy the nice tropical weather, coastal beaches and the pleasures of the natural environment of this industrial capital of Nigeria – Africa’s most populous country. Hence on Sundays when nobody is rushing to work and the traffic at least moves a bit, people want to go on family visits or to friends or just to cruise through the many posh neighbourhoods, islands and extensions that make Lagos so interesting. Here is a true account of the extremely amazing, nasty experience of a Dutch-Nigerian family that set out to relax on a Sunday midday in 1983. Cruising in a self-driven car from their Adeniyi-Jones reservation quarters in Ikeja, they hoped to tour Lagos streets quietly. In the car were the husband driving with his wife sitting beside him in front, with their three 6- to 8-year old sons plus their house servant sitting in the back of their posh Toyota Super Saloon car.

All windows were wound down to let in the maritime breeze of Lagos air, and the car radio was tuned to soft music from a local station. At cruising speed, they took notice of every bit of the scenery that unfolded ahead in front and on both sides of them, as tourists would do anywhere. They passed various local markets, saw varying architecture of expensive villas and mansions with security fences, gates and guards in private uniform, rows of ramshackle houses, shopping centres and expensive hotels in Ikeja, Airport Road, Maryland, and Ilupeju, as they changed from highway to highway and from main street to main street.

Then suddenly, as they drove past a crowd, they noticed one man at the centre of it, sprawled on the street, dead still, certainly wounded if not already dead, while the crowd was moved to tears in deep sorrow at the sight of him and his blood wounds. Curious, the Dutch family reduced their cruising speed while passing the seemingly dead man, everyone lamenting as they continued on their Sunday tour.

The poor wounded man had been hit by some hit-and-run car perhaps half an hour earlier at that very spot in the busy traffic. Then suddenly, just as the Dutch family almost lost sight of the wounded man, the three children still looking from the back of the car, said to their father from a last glimpse, “He moved, he is not dead!”. That was enough to trigger their father’s purely human desire to help the poor dying man, if only because there was no ambulance service nor emergency police help in Lagos, nor anywhere in the whole of Nigeria. The only chance of survival for victims of road accidents depended only on the kindness of passers by.

The family therefore quickly put their car into the reverse, and parked it beside the dying man in the midst of the crowd, to assess his condition. Applying all he knew from past training in first-aid procedures, their father checked for signs of life in the road accident victim. The man was losing blood fast, and would surely die if he did not get medical help at once.

Although their car was already full, they  regrouped, loaded the children squeezed into the front between their mother and their dad as driver, and picked up the dying man to lie on their back seat next to their house servant who was watching over the man. That from the bleeding man blood stains would dirty their car seat was no hindrance to helping him. Luckily, they quickly found a private small medical hospital nearby and explained the case to the attending nurses and doctor as they carried the wounded man still alive from the car unto a table in the hospital. Then something totally unexpected happened.

As the kind Dutch family turned to return to their car and resume their Sunday drive, the hospital staff seized one of the three children plus the house servant, and pushed both to the back of a clinic counter to detain them. Hospital staff demanded that the Dutch family should give full details of the dying man’s name and address, and also make a down payment for the expected cost of emergency treatment of this strange victim of a road accident.

The Dutch family’s plea that they knew nothing about the wounded man, and that they only helped to bring him for humanitarian reasons, was all to no avail. The doctor in fact wrongly accused the Dutch family of having injured the dying, and that they were now just dumping him to escape paying the medical cost. The dying man was too unconscious and in shock to speak for himself. Soon, a big quarrel developed as they tried to get the detained Dutch boy and servant free.

To avoid violence, the only way out for the Dutch family was to go back to the crowd at the scene of the accident to get witnesses to prove that they had not wounded the dying man. Even this Nigerian medical staff could not believe that anyone would ever help a dying victim of a road accident hit by a hit-and run motorist. With their son and servant held captive, the kind family was back at the crowd on the site of the accident within minutes, to pick up witnesses who they took back to the private hospital so  hospital could free their son and servant.

Upon return to the private hospital, they found that their own son and servant, as well as the dying victim were no longer to be found. All three had been taken to some unknown destination by the hospital staff. Alarmed by the new turn of this ridiculous drama, the Dutch family had to take to the streets in urgent search of police help to locate their child and servant. Their Sunday leisure city tour had by now turned into a serious personal tragedy all because they offered humanitarian help to a dying victim of a road accident that had nothing to do with them.

After hours of fruitless search, they managed to wave down a passing police Jeep carrying seemingly senior cops in uniform and with two-way radio communication antenna, the type that whisks government ministers through traffic control on highways. Luckily, this police vehicle stopped, the policemen listened to their story, and followed them first to the sight of the accident, and then to the private hospital where their son and servant were last seen.

From first-hand witnesses, and from the blood stains inside and none outside the Dutch family’s car, the police were surely convinced of the truth that the Dutch family was suffering for helping a road accident victim. Hence the police determination to help them get their son and servant back, but also to trace the whereabouts of the dying man. With Lagos so big, and hospitals so scattered over great distances, it was a complex undertaking to find out which hospital they should look for in tracing the detained boy and servant.

As they would in tracking down highway robbers, the police started to radio to all of their colleagues in various parts of Lagos from Agege to Victoria Island several dozens of kilometres away. Meanwhile, the police Jeep and the Dutch family in their own sedan went in a convoy hopping from hospital to hospital along the way, in search of the detained boy plus servant.

Then far way, in Ikeja General Hospital, they found the dying man lying on a stretcher in the entrance hall with some nurses in a panic. The police team queried the hospital staff there to know those who had brought the man to Ikeja since those would know where the captured Dutch boy and servant were. Luckily, the query worked; for it revealed that the Dutch boy and servant were being kept away in a doctor’s waiting room there, with lies that they had caused a road accident. The police themselves told the hospital to stop lying and release the boy and servant to their kind parents who were only much needed good Samaritans.

Nigeria – no nation, only a territory

unreliable, corrupt, at war with itself, degenerating, social blindness, armed robbery, thief-money, police

Nigeria – no nation. Only a territory at war with itself.

Everyone in Nigeria and most of those who have had significant contacts with the place will agree that Nigeria is most accurately described by the single word – UNRELIABLE. Why is Nigeria – Africa’s most populous administrative territory not a nation nor a real country? Why does Nigeria not meet the most elementary criteria for any nation and country? To begin with, the name already says a lot. Nationhood has a definite meaning, and to be a country requires a certain control over own affairs – including security and protection of own people, own finance and banking, basic infrastructure facilities for transport, health care, education and identity.

As to identity, the name Nigeria came from an abbreviation of Niger Area – a meaning so vague, it affords no clearer identification than ‘somewhere around the Niger river‘. Mind you, that river flows for more than 4100 kilometres from Mt Kissifougou in northern Sierra Leone and Guinea through some four or five countries before emptying into the Atlantic Ocean just before Cameroon where the West African coast takes its big bend southwards. So vague was the description by Mrs Lugard in a letter to her friends in England, given as her address from an undefined territory in West Africa. Since her husband Lugard was to be lord and Britain’s colonial master over the folks he hardly knew nor cared about, her vagueness gave the territory the name – Nigeria.

Until today, the area covered by the name Nigeria is still so vague as to its northern borders that some individual tribes and clans sometimes actually claim to be within Nigeria, and at other times claim to be just outside Nigeria. Some northern provinces of Nigeria have misused this point to boost their electoral quotas in national elections by driving masses of such border folks to come into Nigeria and vote as Nigerians. In addition, definition of its eastern coastal border is still a subject of serious dispute with neighbouring Cameroon republic at the United Nations.

One can argue that Nigeria is not the only African republic with border definition problems, and therefore its geographical definition issues should not automatically rob it of nationhood. If so, what would it still take for Nigeria to be a nation? According to the authoritative Oxford English Dictionary, the English word nation means a community of people of mainly common descent, language, history and customs sharing one territory, government and political institutions.

Nothing has divided Nigeria more surely than the lack of common descent, language and history of its numerous folks, despite six decades of the post-colonial experiment to forge a marriage of mutually unloving parties. That was and still is the harsh fact. What love, tolerance or affinity is there between the Hausas, the Yorubas and the Ibos who form the overwelding majority (perhaps 90%) of all folk groups that form the Nigerian population? How can they love each other when they know so little of each other?

Even today, many learned Nigerians and local political leaders including oba’s and emirs from both the north and the south do not know the names of the tribes, let alone the names of the languages, nor the history nor the customs of the many other folks with whom they now share the name Nigeria. When government ministers and parliamentarians are not even sure what tribes there are, how can they be aware of the impacts of their parliamentary decisions or government on those various tribes?

How can they understand or promote the feelings and needs of folks whose existence they are not aware of? With dozens of languages as different as English is from French, and more than a hundred dialects, Nigerian folks have hundreds of complex local patterns of customs, values, norms and internalised rules unknown to their other folks. Folks cannot claim to be united as a country – Nigeria – if they do not know each other.

Its very huge population of which Nigeria so proudly calls itself ‘biggest in Africa‘, makes it far too divergent and complex for its various folks to understand and appreciate each other’s ways. That makes it too complex if not impossible to convey meaningful respect for each other. This is evident in the regular outbreak of massacre of southerners by northerners in northern towns like Jos and Kaduna. As I write these lines on Easter Day in 2012, world news is again reporting the senseless killing of over forty southerners in the northern town – Kaduna as fanatic Muslims butcher victims just to discourage Christians from celebrating Jesus life.

To date, no government in Nigeria whether municipal, provincial or national has ever addressed this unnecessary mass killing effectively. This serious failure continues irrespective of whoever leads the country – northern parties or southern parties, northern president or southern president. Such repeated massacre with impunity is intolerable in any country.  The question is do Nigerian leaders really care? If they do, what stops them from acting effectively? Surely not Nigerian law. Until and unless Nigerian government meaningfully enforces its laws, it cannot rightfully claim to run a country.

Huge differences as to the appreciation of education, religious openness, economic determination, personal drive and resourcefulness translate into sharp differences in what is perceived as opportunity, national purpose, needs and desires.

Add to this extreme partisanship in all forms, and the stage is perfectly set for corruption of the worst kind. One has seen highly expensive road-paving and bridge-building equipment piled up in a tiny northern village that has no river over which a bridge is needed, and with no motor roads coming or going to anywhere. Yet, the equipment and needless bridge that lies wasted in that village cost several ,million dollrs of federal money.  Meanwhile some thousand kilometres away, large Nigerian cities are connected by highways with potholes big enough to serve as burial graves. This is no exaggeration.

Rather than develop, Nigeria has been regressing for decades now. Strangely enough, the very big cities and industrial regions which are starved of much needed basic resources, are the very ones contributing the most to the industrial output of Nigeria. This is a most uneven factor behind Nigeria’s degeneration.  It is for example the issue at the very root of the Ogoni problem which still remains unresolved after more than half a century of neglecting the oil-rich Niger Delta region while the desert dry areas drain federal money.

The Ogoni are not the only ones so neglected. Nigeria used to be the world’s biggest supplier of palm oil, cocoa, kola nut. Due to government negligence as to development budget and incentive policy, southern Nigeria lost its capacity to produce these essential ingredients of modern industry.

Since independence, northern export of ground nuts which was once the world’s highest, has dwindled to a halt. Palm oil and products derived from it are a vital motor of the world’s pharmaceutical industry today. Malaysia and Asian countries which now lead the world export, started by importing the plant and seeds from Nigeria. Cocoa is a vital ingredient of the world’s chocolate snack sweets, drinks and food. Nigeria lost its great potential in these vital sectors by over-relying on crude-oil income.

An effort to develop viable rubber export in southern Nigeria failed due to lack of federal government support, and misplaced preferences by government ministers too blind to see local opportunities outside their own tribal locality.

Even national interest is allowed to suffer under local partisanship in development efforts regarding infrastructure. How can one otherwise explain the fact that Nigeria – Africa’s most oil-rich territory that supplies the USA and Europe with very significant proportions of their crude oil needs, must itself import petroleum?. It is a shame that Lagos motorists have to wait in long queues to tank for fuel, and at higher prices than in other countries that burn Nigerian crude. That would not happen if Nigeria were a real country. That the Nigerian government is so very irresponsible in this respect, deprives the territory of being a country.

Today, Nigeria is much worse off than it was as a colony if one considers the state of its road system in much of the south, the archaic state of its minuscule rail-road system, and the disastrous performance of its airlines and shipping sectors. That is just transportation alone. Its national record is just as shameful and disappointing when you look at its internal service system – the postal system, its telephone and communication systems, and its public health services – all vital areas that should have nothing to do with local tribal differences.

Nigeria is the one territory where people do pay for electricity but are sure not to get it; where people have long given up all hope of telephone lines that work; where individuals build houses and cannot rely on the state to provide water supply, nor a sewage system that works. One may say that failure in these essential respects only makes Nigeria a developing (in reality an undeveloped) territory, but does not deprive it of being a country or nation. The one fundamental communal need that any country worth the name should be able to provide for its people, is an ordinary feeling of security and safety of life and property at home and on the streets. Even in this respect, Nigeria fails woefully. How can it then be called a country?

Nigerians from the south are so unsafe in the north, they are too often arbitrarily butchered like animals by another folk as if the victims are not humans. Surely, the victims of such unprovoked violence cannot realistically feel they are one and same people or folk. This security problem is rooted in the arbitrary way the British and the French claimed and defined colonial territories, without consideration of the folks who got lumped up as Nigerians without affinity for each other.

Their definition was as arbitrary as telling all those in a huge crowd in some old-fashioned, open-air market to freeze and stay put wherever they stand at some one moment, and then inform them that each and everyone should henceforth take whoever is standing next to him or her at that moment as own spouse and family for the rest of their lives. Such is the forced marriage between Nigerian folks.

Of course, marriage does not work like that. Yet that disaster caused by Britain was continued by the post-independence experiment called Nigeria. As folks, the Hausas, Ibos and Yorubas are more different between them than the Russians, the British and the Portuguese are. That is so geographically, linguistically, culturally and in religious outlook. Unfortunately, there is very little effort to learn more about each other as is needed to get along well together.

As a result, Nigerian politics is driven by tribal opportunism, personal greed, share illiteracy even in some high places, and lack of appreciation of each other’s innate values, desires and needs as humans. This last point could be called social blindness to each other, causing great disrespect for human values. This disqualifies Nigeria from being a real country.

Social blindness makes it easy for one, who in the Biafran War lost all family possessions, not to feel too much compassion for another who was recently victim of armed robbers. Nor can a fanatic Muslim who takes non-Muslims to be kafirs unworthy to be humans, ever know the pain of Christians whose homes get burnt down simply for being in a Muslim-dominated town.

Inter-communal feeling suffers even more seriously when some group is overwhelmingly better educated, or is more successful in trade and industry, or is professionally more serious about career pursuit than the other group. Feelings get dangerously opposed to each other if in such circumstances, the least motivated or least prepared group gets the most power to decide over the output and resources of the more serious, more productive group. For too long, this has been the situation in Nigeria, especially in that divide between the north and the south. Yorubas and Ibos are able to respect each other’s industrial, religious and cultural attitudes more than the northerners are able to respect these folks.

Meanwhile, the British-induced illusion of being one country has so misled Nigerians into wanting to claim in the resources of each other’s regions, that most people assume that what the other has can be shared. Yet, what is from own area is seen as own thing as people lack the natural sense of true mutual communal care for each other.

In big urban centres where the concentration of people from different regions is highest, this translates into indifference about the security of others. This social indifference plus high unemployment in such areas easily gave rise to high rates of burglary and armed robbery, first in cities, then along highways, and finally also in smaller towns too. Now, nowhere is anyone safe in Nigeria.

Armed robbery and burglary is now so rampant in Nigeria, even aircrafts that upon landing are still taxiing towards the airport gates, get attacked by dare-devil bandits forcing open the cargo doors to get their loot. According to one stewardess, airline crews are so unsafe in guarded Lagos hotels, and attacks on property everywhere got so intensive that KLM has stopped all flight arrivals in Nigerian airports.

Travellers arriving from abroad if identified outside on the street, easily become victims of armed robbers who seek hostages to demand ransom in foreign currency. Women refrain from wearing jewellery, and workers avoid expensive dress to work, just so as not to be targets of street robbers. Stealing has gained a higher meaning in the Nigerian context.

Whereas in many countries, burglars steal just money, jewellery or loose objects from homes, in Nigeria thieves steal your whole house, with emphasis on – whole house. Nigerian bandits come in large groups – often a dozen or more, armed to the teeth like any army, complete with whole trucks to load your things into, even in two or more rounds during the same night.

Sometimes Nigerian burglars even announce to their intended victim before hand that they are coming. To be prepared to appease thieves, most households always keep a bundle of cash ready at hand to give to thieves when these arrive. With ready thief-money, they hope to prevent the need for the armed robbers to use weapons to force victims into submission.

Any weapon available to the police and army individuals are also available to those Nigerian thieves – machine guns, machetes and grenades or whatever can injure people and property. If Nigerian armed robbers come and they find a target house too tightly locked up and cannot enter, they simply burn down the whole house plus anyone who is inside. The ideas is to flush out victims using fire.

Burglars in Nigeria are known to have robbed not just one house at a time, but at times whole rows of houses together, as they hop from the one house to its neighbours, baffling even the toughest private security guards. One can report from first-hand experience as victim that a whole house was so thoroughly robbed, Nigerian thieves stole even the glass windows, the doors of all the rooms, the water taps and flush-toilets, baths and water pipes, the electric meters and electric cables, the built-in double-glass roof window that was imported from Europe, the electric generator, some roofing sheets and much more.

On this one specific occasion out of nine earlier ones, the thieves came deep in the night – at 2:00 a.m for a first loading, and returned three hours later for a second loading of loot from the same house. You would ask is there no police in that country?

That is the very point in this story – that by its very inability to provide that most elementary security service called police, Nigeria disqualifies itself from being a state, nation or country. The very word police came from the Greek word polis meaning a state that provides own security for its members. That was the basis for the modern words politics, policy, polite and polity. There are numerous cases of Nigerian police officers being party to robberies and burglaries.

In the above-mentioned case of one house that got robbed twice in the same night, by the time the thieves returned for their second loading, the security guards and the home owners in the whole neighbourhood managed to so team up that they scared off many of the thieves. They actually captured two of the thieves plus their loaded truck which were therefore brought to the police station for arrest. The police locked up both thieves in a cell, just until bribes could be paid by the bandits and by the victim.

Sadly enough for the owner of the robbed house, just two days later, the police released the two arrested thieves and their truck. The same police refused to return the stolen goods on the truck to the owner till today – now years later. No real country or nation would let its police get away with such a terrible level of corruption.

Quite apart from insecurity from thieves in Nigeria, there is another fundamental definition that disqualifies Nigeria from being a country or nation. Every country has representation abroad, often called embassies or consulates manned by its very own people to care for its own nationals in foreign countries, and to promote its national economic and so-called diplomatic interests overseas. From personal experience, one has too often seen Nigeria’s foreign services (embassies and consulates) manned at important levels not by Nigerians but by total foreigners.

For example, in The Hague, Indonesians handle visa applications of travellers to visit Nigeria, and often turn down native-born Nigerians living abroad. This more than anything else confirms beyond any reasonable doubt that Nigeria is for these applicants not really a state worthy to be called a country.

What is even worse, the payment for the Nigerian visa had to be paid not to nor at the Nigerian embassy, but exclusively only at a strange Dutch bank kilometres far away from the Nigerian embassy where the visa applicant in Holland has to deposit his visa payment. Worse still, the visa money so paid at the strange Dutch bank is deposited into an American bank account in the USA, not to Nigeria’s Central Bank. That is, Nigeria as a government or territory proves to be incapable of even collecting payment in its own name in Europe and has to rely on a US firm – rather on its own Central Bank to receive its visa fees. This inability to have a reliable central bank, directly disqualifies Nigeria from deserving to be called a country.

As a result of the points given above, Nigeria has built such a bad reputation abroad, that  many Nigerians abroad are ashamed to be seen as Nigerians. Which Nigerian graduate in banking would in America or Europe gladly mention at a job interview that he is from Nigeria? Doing so would almost automatically disqualify him or her from being employed, out of fear of being untrustworthy.

The best trained Nigerians with good professional experience leave Nigeria because it is unsafe to live a decent happy life in Nigeria. In the USA alone, there are well over 75000 Nigerians with multiple post-graduate university degrees who will no longer return to Nigeria. The reason is that Nigeria with all its corruption and insecurity has proven itself to be unworthy for deploying their professional skills. In short, Nigeria is not worthy to be their country. Of those left back in Nigeria, most at every level of education, would if given the chance, gladly emigrate too.

Nigerians are known to have settled in Ireland and Britain in large numbers, abusing the social security system of their host countries by claiming multiple unemployment without qualifying for it, by claiming subsidised housing which they then rent out for higher rental fees, and other similar crooked practices.