HERDING INTO AN UNKNOWN FUTURE

Last year, President Buhari arrested Nnamdi Kanu, accusing him of urging Easterners to arm and protect themselves.

Today, ARMED herdsmen from our president’s own ethnic group have started falling on those same unarmed Easterners and on other unarmed peoples of Nigeria, killing, maiming, raping and slaughtering them and forcefully taking over their land. The spike in these activities has been all over the news for months, and rumours now abound that there is even a secret bill in the making to legalize the unconstitutional one-sided freedoms of these armed herdsmen.

President Buhari has not arrested or brought to justice any of his own armed kinsmen and fellow herders. Infact on this issue he has been uncharacteristically soft-spoken for an ex-soldier who has severally fumed of how he will use the military might and intelligence of Nigeria to crush any violent or armed groups within the country.

If this is not the cold cynical Conspiracy that it looks like, then it is a case of a president turning out to be more clueless, inefficient and inadequate than he accuses his predecessor of being. Choose one.

The world is moving ahead, leaving Africa behind to continue to wallow in our ancient small-minded animosities. The OAU was founded in 1963, yet Africa is still not united and still not honest with itself. The Biafran War ended in 1970, but Nigerians still don’t trust one another. We are in the fourth republic, but the law and the constitution are still being interpreted selectively. Caught between the opposites of Meritocracy and Federal Character, we have not yet solved the basic puzzle of what form our democracy should take in order to succeed long-term.

The Age of Oil is slowly coming to an End. During these decades of global oil-dependency, certain Non-African oil-producers have used the proceeds of the Oil Trade to catapult their nations from the dregs of primitive rural backwardness into mind-boggling heights of beauty, industry and technology. Today while we pathetically and anxiously monitor the price of oil daily like mindless helpless victims of a system beyond our control, some scientific nations are investing heavily in New Energy, rushing at a feverish pace to hurriedly create a parallel technological space that will eventually replace the fossil-fuel-based technology and infrastructure of yesterday. The economic dynamics of tomorrow will not be kind to Nigeria and Africa.

In the arena of social and cultural engineering, upheavals are rocking the universal human soul which will shape the global social dialectics of tomorrow. Displacement, migration and integration have become issues facing more and more nations and societies. Peoples and ideologies that have always been strangers to one another and seemingly mutually incompatible are now locked in an intense discussion on how to co-exist peacefully within the different contexts of their different social systems and nation-types. Those who bring the solutions will be those who rule the future.

Rapid advances in the synergising of equally dizzying advances in new forms of information and communication technologies keep opening up wider and more customisable possibilities for any person, groups of persons, peoples or nations who really want and are committed to progress – to source out, engineer and implement the solutions they need. Living in the transitional era of the matrix of all these forces, the times could not be more conducive for progressive African minds to finally achieve the leap out of the state and the sad image of a non-producing, non-inventing, self-oppressing, corrupt, beggarly continent to a self-dependent, socially secure, rights-protecting, technologically inventive part-carrier of the future. Knowledge, once the rarest and most sought-after power-broker in the world, has become a cheap commodity easily available to any serious seeker.

In the midst of all this, it is the more primitive problems that continue to bog us down. Ill-health, lack of education, corruption, power-abuse, tribalism, broken infrastructure, the lack of basic amenities, the lack of social security, the lack of a tourism industry, the lack of a culture of incubation of ideas and new technology, issues of human, civil and minority rights, insecurity, and the list goes on. And at the top is the baffling question of the paradox of why Nigeria, an African country, should make herself the crude battleground of two imported world-religions. At these present cross-road where only UNITY gives us a fighting chance to catch up with the global shift in technology and social re-engineering taking place. My favourite song in my village has very simple lyrics – “Idinotu, o bu ya bu ike.”: UNITY IS STRENGTH. When will African “Muslims” and African “Christians” figure out this little trick?

In an integrated world in which diasporan Africans globally are increasingly looking to the motherland as a source of inspiration, a fountain of ancient knowledge, a bedrock of self-respect, and a field of new progressive activity, self-mockingly the continent is momentum-wise worse off now than at the dawn of independence.

And now Fulani herdsmen have joined the fray in expansionistic dimensions last seen only before colonialism, taken up their walking sticks and their new sophisticated firearms and started brutally doing everywhere in the country the very thing the President said he would never condone or allow under his watch. Lailai.

We are watching. Africa is watching. Quietly?

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

AUCH TRAURIGE MOMENTE SIND MOMENTE

Jene Momente
In denen ich an den 5. April 1995 denke
Einen Tag vor dem Unfalltod meines Bruders
Er wußte nicht, es war sein vorletzter Tag…

Jene Momente
In denen ich an den 18. April 2015 denke
Einen Tag vor dem Krebstod meines Vaters
Die Behandlung lief gut
Er dachte nicht, es war sein letzter Abend…

Jene Momente
An denen ich an die liebsten Menschen in
Meinem heutigen Leben denke, und weiß
– genau so wie ich an andere nun denke –
Einige von ihnen werden sich einst an unser
Letztes Auf Wiedersehen erinnern

Und sinnen: Hätte ich nur gewusst
Daß das der letzte AugenBlick sein würde…
Denn einem unter uns Menschen war gestern immer
Der vorletzte Tag

Liebe den Moment, Mensch
Liebe und lebe diesen Moment

Er wird sich nicht wiederholen.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

TWICE IS NOT ENOUGH – pt. 12

… continued from Part Eleven.

On his way home, Tony was very silent.

Outside the gate of his house, he felt the night-wind softly call, and he took out a sheet of paper from his back-pocket, and a pen, leaned against the wall and, whilst a bird sang somewhere near and somewhere far, like an ancient dream coming again, coming home, he wrote: On this we stand.

Did you love me, did you not?
My, what a heart…
Did it break, broke it not?
I do not know –

Is it ending, is it beginning?
Hard to tell…
‘Tis forever my love
Forever we are this –

This? What is this?
It is this:
Please be true to your heart forever.

*

Ada saw him from upstairs, leaning against the wall just at the edge of the gate, writing … in the dark. How could he see what he was writing?
And he was always writing.

She heard a sparrow singing on a branch in front of the veranda. It was a lovely eternal song.

“Did you see her?” she asked him when he entered. She did not see any piece of paper in his hands. She could still hear the birdsong somewhere near and somewhere far and somewhere deep within her soul, a dream on the long walk home.

“Who?”

“Ngozi.”

Tony searched for an evasive answer, then gave up. How did she know?

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Forget it.”

“She’s travelling in six days’ time.”

“Where to?”

“Germany. University. Work. I don’t know. She wasn’t clear.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, double-ouch.”

Later she said:

“The poems you gave me yesterday. They were nice.”

“Hm.”

“Ngozi read some too, on the bus.”

“Hm.”

“There’s food in the kitchen.”

“Thanks, I’m starved.”

“She’s a nice person; even almost special, I somehow think.”

Tony was silent a while. Then he shook his head and said:

“It’s complicated.” – and walked into the kitchen, his mind on Ngozi.

… ***
… to find out how this delicate and unfinished love story between Tony and Ngozi played itself out, buy and read the full novella on
amazon.com (e-book / paperback)
amazon.co.uk (e-book / paperback)
amazon.de (e-book / paperback)
amazon.in (ebook / paperback)
amazon.ca (ebook / paperback)
amazon.com.au (ebook / paperback)
or any other amazon online stores worldwide.
Available from December 2013.
TWICE IS NOT ENOUGH.

Twice_Is_Not_Enough_Cover_for_Kindle

– AKA TERAKA.

Brotkrümel

Tagging.
Jetzt wurde auch ich getagged, und zwar von Sinn.Wort.Spiel
Ich soll die nachfolgenden Fragen beantworten und anschließend mir welche für andere Blogger ausdenken.
OK, here goes.

1. bei welchem wort bekommst du eine gänsehaut?
= Gänsehaut.

2. bei welchem gedicht fühlst du dich in deine kindheit zurückversetzt?
= „The Eagle“ – von Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

3. wie viel ist 33 geteilt durch 3?
= 11.

4. welche/r schauspieler/in würde dich in einem film über dein leben darstellen?
= So gut kenne ich mich nicht, um zu wissen, welcher Schauspieler am Besten die Rolle spielen würde.

5. links oder rechts?
= Schreiben mit rechts, malen mit links.
= Herz links, Kopf rechts.

6. was war das erste wort, das du als kind sagen konntest?
= Daddy.

7. wie riecht die farbe lila?
= Schöne Frage. Könnte der erste Satz eines Gedichts sein.
Wie riecht die Farbe lila?
Wie klingt softe Vanilla?
… usw.

PS – sie riecht nach kurz vor einem dunklen Gewitter.

8. warum fühlt sich leder anders an als plastik?
= Weil ich Haut habe.

9. wie alt bist du?
= 39

10. warum?
= Warum nicht?

🙂
—–
Und diese wären dann meine 10 Fragen:

1. Was wäre für Dich die höchste Tugend?
2. Welches Wort reimt sich am treffendsten auf Dich?
3. Was würde das Kind, das Du einst warst, von dem Erwachsenen, der Du geworden bist, halten?
4. Welche Sportart fasziniert Dich am meisten?
5. Warum?
6. Welches Lied würde Dich heute am weichsten stimmen?
7. Welche Empfindung wird von der Farbe blau in dir geweckt?
8. Wird die Menschheit sich und die Erde zerstören?
9. Beginnt oder endet das Leben mit 40?
10. Was ist Dein Lieblingskinderbuch?

an die folgenden Blogger – mit der Hoffnung, Ihr wurdet nicht bereits (geschweige denn mehrmals) getagged und es könnte Euch Spaß machen, diese Fragen zu beantworten 🙂 :

Wolfgang Schnier
Form 7
Diafo
Freiraum
Leben und schreiben in nicht (meiner) Muttersprache
Puzzleblume
Benn Wederwill
Hildegard Lewandowsky
Skryptoria
Gescheuchten Igel

Und hier sind die Regeln:
– Beantworte die 10 Fragen, die der Tagger dir gestellt hat
– Denke dir selbst zehn Fragen aus, die du den Bloggern, die du taggen möchtest, stellst
– Such dir zehn Blogs aus, (die unter 200 Follower haben) und tagge sie
– Erzähle es den glücklichen Bloggern (wichtig, sonst gerät das Ganze etwas ins Stocken).
– Zurücktaggen ist nicht erlaubt.

Viel Spaß!

TWICE IS NOT ENOUGH – pt. 11

… continued from Part Ten.

Somewhere else, Ngozi dressed up and went to work. Her mind was on Tony, wondering if he would call, hoping he would call, knowing, from memory and a deep understanding of him, that he might not, and why. And yet, wishing that he would surprise her all the same.

Tony did not call. – He came.

All of a sudden. She looked up and there he was, standing in front of her in her office in Anthony Village, a respectable, quietly opulent area of Lagos Mainland.

A little distance behind him, leafing in through the newly and quietly opened door, was the light of day, huskily harmattan. A car drove past further in the background, then another, as they smiled at one another. Her smile was open, his shy. She was amused, he was unsure. He took a step forward and shut the door.

Finally, she stood up. They looked at one another, unsure of what to do. Then she noticed how thin he was. A sharp, audible intake of breath, a full-throated hiss, was her first reaction. Then she came to him and touched his arm.

“Tony, you’ve lost weight.”

What is the mystery of love?

“I’ve missed you,” Tony said, speaking, like he so often did, without pausing to think, without ever even having once previously felt it. Since the resolution, years ago. Yet when he saw her, he remembered her again. And missed her. And had her. And was hers.

He let out his breath, slowly, deeply, and said it again:

“Wooow… I’ve missed you like what!”

“Like what?” she asked, smiling like a tease, remembering and playing along in the word-game.

“Yeah, like what.”

And they laughed, smiled, but did not embrace.

The weight of the years, somehow, lay yet upon them and between them. Memories of pain slowly arose. Tony saw it steal over her eyes like grey clouds across an open sky. He had hurt her. Deeply.

She had had her faults, some of them major pain-bringers. But in the end, it was he who had delivered the fatal blow. And she had not forgotten. It was in her eyes.

But had she forgiven?

“How did you know this place?” Ngozi asked, taking her hand off his arm and inching away almost imperceptibly and, thus, most perceptibly.
“Tony-magic,” he smiled, twirling his fingers like a trickster.

They laughed again, partly to soften a heavy moment. Somewhere at the back of both their minds was the immediate understanding that this moment and how they handled it, and how it resolved itself, with or without their participation, would determine their future. Together or apart. Or what.

The undefined what.

Maybe because Yuletide had softened everybody. Maybe because of both their yesterdays. Maybe because of the manner and mood of this re-meeting. Maybe because they had never stopped caring. But, somehow, it was as though they had never parted. This was the moment in which they would meet or part.

Characteristic of Ngozi she wanted it settled at once. And it seemed to her as though she had been waiting and preparing for it all these years.
But characteristic of Tony he wanted to post-pone it again, like he did the last time. Imperceptibly. Like he was a master at doing.

Tony smiled and looked round her office. It had the touch of beauty floating upon it, simple as it was, but he had the feeling that something was missing, without being able to place his finger on it.

There was an uncurtained window behind her seat, and, a toned contrast to the fluorescent be-lit room, again wafted in the light of day upon the tastefully designed, sturdy wooden office table, panelled-over with leather, colonised by but a tiny telephone on one side and nothing else. Tony noted that she still had that habit of being neat almost unto sparseness.

Her office was opened into by the door through which he’d just entered, behind which was a spacious business-centre.

He looked round her office again. There was a painting … he ignored it.
She waited for his eyes to quit roaming, then trapped them again. For a second she thought she’d detected panic in there, but she couldn’t be sure. His eyes, light brown and expressive, were amused and appraising as they settled on her one more time.

The moment, as though it had a will of its own, became now tender.

They embraced.

… continued in Part 12.

– AKA TERAKA.

If you want to skip the excerpts and read the full story of this delicate, subtle love story, the novella is availaable on
amazon.com (e-book / paperback)
amazon.co.uk (e-book / paperback)
amazon.de (e-book / paperback)
amazon.in (ebook / paperback)
amazon.ca (ebook / paperback)
amazon.com.au (ebook / paperback)
or any other amazon online stores worldwide.
Available from December 2013.
TWICE IS NOT ENOUGH.

Twice_Is_Not_Enough_Cover_for_Kindle

TWICE IS NOT ENOUGH – pt. 10

… continued from Part Nine.

Tony was wide awake now. Faintly on his consciousness registered themselves the peripheral sounds of morning. Over the fence, the neighbour’s pestle was hitting and rolling in the mortar with a quick rhythmic thumping, smooth but noisy, legacy of innumerable generations.
Tony purred like a cat and sighed again into the bright rays of the eager morning sun. Last night’s surprise rain had tinged this morning’s harmattan with the soothing touch of sweet wet bliss.

In the backyard, or from the boys’ quarters, came the voice of the radio. Full of mixed opinions, it jumped from one topic to another like a mad and wise and, above all, delirious mind.

He listened a bit, but his interest soon slipped away from there and reluctantly focused on the issue of Ngozi. It was something he did not want to think about for the simple reason that he did not know what to think about it, how to handle it. So, yet again, like he had done the previous evening when Ada told him of her encounter with Ngozi, he rolled it carefully along the periphery of his thoughts for a few thinking seconds and then pushed it away and began to reflect instead on what 1999, only six days away now, would have to offer.

With this turn of his thoughts, suddenly he heard and perceived the sounds and smells of Yuletide again.

Christmas period in Lagos. No wonder the sun was so bright.

The radio had overcome its indecisiveness and settled down to singing Boney M Christmas songs. Songs that had accompanied him, Christmas after Christmas, from childhood into the harsh forests of adulthood. Songs of which he never tired.

There is no time like Christmas.

A knock on the door and Ada barged in, smelling of a happy, busy kitchen.

“Tah lah!” she called in a sing-song voice, half-skipping in and throwing her arms wide open the way she did almost every morning, as if to say “I’m here!”

And she said: “It’s me again!”

“I perceive that it has not yet come to your notice that my door now swings, and most precariously so indeed, on only one hinge. It would be good to wonder why.”

Ada burst out laughing.

“A mystery for Hercule Poirot,” she replied between laughs.

“Even Hercule couldn’t solve this one. Only you can – with a simple confession; or, rather, admission.”

“Confessions are for convicted felons. As a rule, one should only confess when all the evidence point irrefutably against one. As for admissions, I leave that to presidents and the like.”

“You’ve changed o, you this woman! You now talk like a ring-leader.”
She laughed again.

“Ring-leader of what?”

“Of the things that have ring-leaders. There are many of them. They are always getting caught everyday. Infact, most channels make it a point of duty, as is easy to verify, to show us arrested ring-leaders at least once every week – ”

“And to showcase the unarrested ones at least once everyday,” she added dryly.

“You can’t blame them, when they have nothing else to show.”

“Television is all about advertising –” she began, with the voice of a school-teacher.

“So they’re advertising your fellow-ringleaders. You should be rejoicing. You people have taken over the world.”

“Yes, you should know. Aren’t you the one always watching T.V.?”

Now he growled and jumped out of bed. He found himself laughing although she had just digged him again on a sore spot. He raised his clenched fists and began to bounce. She raised hers too and circled him.

“Ah, do you think it’s all this silly bouncing? It’s not like that, you have to be cool. Approach, let me teach you a painful lesson.”

“I knew today would start with a morale-booster. I just never thought it would be this good – bestowing you with a swollen countenance. But let me apologise in advance –”

As he was talking she rushed forward with jabs.

“Wait wait wait – ” he ran back and began to bounce again. “Hm, I’m warning you o! What! Are you laughing at me?? Ok!”

Now they began to shadow-box in earnest, but made no contact, pulling all punches just before impact, until he began to breathe harder and then leaned against a table.

A worried look immediately came into her eyes.

“How do you feel now? I thought you said –”

“Yes, I’m fine,” he sighed. “I’ve recovered, but I’m still weak physically.”

“You fall ill too often.”

“That’s my destiny.”

They looked at each other without speaking, for a while. Then,

“I’m hungry. Ọkwọ Yuletide bonus is on the culinary way.”

“Hm! Mchm!… ” She made sounds not easy to spell and started to walk out of the room. “When Yuletide comes, you can ask him for your bonus! Me, I’m making my own normal breakfast. If you don’t want to eat it, no problem … But don’t let me catch you near the kitchen!”

He knew she was teasing. Something special was on the way.

“Ah-ah. Am I surprised?” he called after her through the door she’d left customarily ajar. “What else can one truly and honestly expect of a village-apparition…”

Her laughter floated back in, and he smiled too.

… continued in Part 11.

– AKA TERAKA.

If you want to skip the excerpts and read the full story of this delicate, subtle love story, the novella is availaable on
amazon.com (e-book / paperback)
amazon.co.uk (e-book / paperback)
amazon.de (e-book / paperback)
amazon.in (ebook / paperback)
amazon.ca (ebook / paperback)
amazon.com.au (ebook / paperback)
or any other amazon online stores worldwide.
Available from December 2013.
TWICE IS NOT ENOUGH.

Twice_Is_Not_Enough_Cover_for_Kindle

TWICE IS NOT ENOUGH – pt. 9

… continued from Part Eight.

Bright, exceptionally bright sunlight, shinning in through the wide open window of his bedroom mediated into Tony’s still, relaxed form an increasing warmth until, nicely and freshly toasted, he awakened, with a dazed, wondering look on his face, into a new day.

The intensity of the rays, the glare, nay, the blare of this morning’s sun startled him and, in that brief moment of attempted re-orientation, his dream receded into the depths of unconsciousness. Too late he tried to exit again his day-consciousness and retrieve the last moments of his fast-fading supra-earthly reality… to recapture, to retain, reclaim, to remember it… there was something that had just now been happening… but what?? – – It was too late. The line had broken. He had lost it. Another buried dream.

He was again on the earth.

He sighed, rolled around, and sighed again. Wistfully. Everyday the same thing.

He rolled again, again he rolled, and sighed an even deeper sigh. He couldn’t remember the dream, yet he could remember it …, how it felt. It had been a particularly strong dream, this one. Near and far.

Yet, he knew, one day it would resurrect.

They always did.

Like Ngozi.

Dreams come back.

… continued in Part Ten.

– AKA TERAKA.

If you want to skip the excerpts and read the full story of this delicate, subtle love story, the novella is availaable on
amazon.com (e-book / paperback)
amazon.co.uk (e-book / paperback)
amazon.de (e-book / paperback)
amazon.in (ebook / paperback)
amazon.ca (ebook / paperback)
amazon.com.au (ebook / paperback)
or any other amazon online stores worldwide.
Available from December 2013.
TWICE IS NOT ENOUGH.

Twice_Is_Not_Enough_Cover_for_Kindle

TWICE IS NOT ENOUGH – pt. 8

… continued from Part Seven.

Those who long shall grow.

The night was young. Young again. The moon, half-full, was banking all alone in the west of heaven, and there was, though no clouds were anywhere to be seen, a distant smell of rain. Sweet night rain, to bear our dreams softly down from heaven and wash our fears away; wash the old year away too and water the seeds of a new one. But the night, for now, was young and eager, eager to look into the homes and hearts of human beings, to know again their story.

Tony sighed – a deep sigh – and turned in for the night, wondering at the destiny that had returned Ngozi into his life.

He said goodnight to Ada and retired to his bedroom.

Quietly Ada watched her brother’s back as he retreated into the bowels of the house in which they lived.

Softly the night crept into the house and touched, as it was touched by, the hearts, the hopes and the everyday history of the human race.

And deep into the night, between midnight and dawn, singing, singing, the rain fell softly down.

… continued in Part Nine.

– AKA TERAKA.

If you want to skip the excerpts and read the full story of this delicate, subtle love story, the novella is availaable on
amazon.com (e-book / paperback)
amazon.co.uk (e-book / paperback)
amazon.de (e-book / paperback)
amazon.in (ebook / paperback)
amazon.ca (ebook / paperback)
amazon.com.au (ebook / paperback)
or any other amazon online stores worldwide.
Available from December 2013.
TWICE IS NOT ENOUGH.

Twice_Is_Not_Enough_Cover_for_Kindle

Life after 21st Dec 2012

If the world does not end on 21st December 2012, I will post one poem everyday and one short story every week for the next ONE YEAR on this blog.

Keep following… if the world is still here.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.