Things We Say

“A very large conflagration has overtaken your domicile”. This would be a Nigerian telling you that your house is on fire. The statement itself is technically correct but tactically useless, both in it’s execution and it’s purpose. There is something very Nigerian in a cultural sense in that statement. There are so many elements of our political psychic embedded in that one line. We are people who engineer complex solutions to simple problems, the resulting waste of effort, resources and time is hardly ever consequential, it is merely a necessary by product of the problem reaching it’s natural conclusion. While the situation may or may not have been rectified, what is most important is that it is seen that work has been put into it and that lot of effort was expanded in doing that work, even if at the end of the day, much of that work was an unnecessary waste. I was struck by just how much that statement; a standing joke from my college days, just about describes a typical Nigerian politician.

The statement (“a very large conflagration has overtaken your domicile”) is representative of us in many ways. The first of which is that it calls attention to the speaker rather than the fire. Making glorified statements and long winded speeches designed to impress is as Nigerian as ‘eba or ‘ewedu. The purported intelligence of the speaker, is almost always judged by their ability to mix in rarely referenced grammatical idioms and intellectual sounding Latin phases that the intended audience has little understanding of. The ability to apply “isms” (for example colloquialism) to the end of words has long been held as a sign of good education and advanced learning. I will cop to falling into this trap sometimes and using lengthy words were simpler once would have sufficed. The message, a relevant and urgent alarm is lost in the quiet nodding and embarrassed smiles of the listening audience as they quietly tell each other “there goes an educated man”. For example this was part of Hon. Patrick Obahiagbon's tribute to Chief Gani Fawehinmi upon his passing. “Chief Gani was simply inimitable, puritanically committed, inscrutably remonstrative, ideologically transcendental and quixotically cosmopolitan. His transition is not just the fall of an Iroko but indeed the grand initiation of an Iconic legal salamander!!! “Gani inured himself in the aqua of self abnegation and immolation just to give justice to the down trodden”. He went further to say that “the news brought him emotional laceration and threw him into a state of utter catalepsy.” I am not sure what all that means, but he really must miss Mr. Fawehinmi very much.

The second point is that it manages to magnify the importance of the situation without providing any real urge spurring the listener to action. This is a designed state of inertia, rather than an accidently one. A motivated populace demands action or will take action itself, but an impressed one, is stuck admiring the beauty of the spectacle. Politicians are adapt to make statements that in their totality sound convincing and strong but do nothing to galvanize the population towards any kind of problem solving. The aim here is to continue to milk the situation, while appearing to care but really just posturing for the fame, publicity and of course the money that comes with political office. The confused listener shrugs and continues about their business, to the neutral outsider observing from the side with a full understanding of the situation, this could be interpreted as a like of lack of civic pride or a complete disregard for the plight of another but really the case here is the passing of misinformation for the speaker to the listener. In a country with such a large illiteracy rate, people assume that the purpose of the speech was to impress, they accept it for what it is and move on. Invariably it is just another opportunity to advance the state of the country lost in a cloud of big words.

Which naturally would lead to the question, so was there really any intent to notify anyone of the fire? Like all things that we do, it is complicated. The fire while an unfortunate event was an opportunity, a chance to flaunt credentials, if at the end of the day the fire is somehow put out, all the better. We live in a society that values style over function, it is not an accident that is the “Babariga” is our official native office wear. Seriously with our weather how did a heavy blanket of a garment designed to look good rather than feel good, end up the dominant wear for official business? We as a nation play to the gallery all the time, understanding the sweeping nature of that statement, I will go on record with this summary. This writing is a is a generalization that paints with a broad brush, but nonetheless describes a commonality that defines our everyday values enough for it to be almost always true. I know, I know, I accept the position of kettle, in this black calling contest.

Edu Nnadi.

We All Bled Red.

Race, one word, with a deeper meaning than the Mariana Trench. It is impossible to have an honest discussion about race. Nobody ever says what they truly feel, clichés flow forth like cheap wine whenever anything racial is the topic.

Thefreedictionary.com has these two definitions for race;

1. A local geographic or global human population distinguished as a more or less distinct group by genetically transmitted physical characteristics.
2. A group of people united or classified together on the basis of common history, nationality, or geographic distribution: the German race.

The German race, funny that they would use that example. If the definitions above are accurate then race is either a commonality based on physical appearance or a cultural phenomena, the resultant effect of the geographical distribution of the human population. I think most people will agree, that it is some combination of these two definitions that produces the toxic mix which eventually leads to hate crimes.

These days the in thing is to differentiate between a racial incident and a racist act, as if the clever play on semantics would somehow lessen the gravity of the discrimination, this would be somewhat along the lines of degrees of pregnancy. You can’t be a little bit pregnant. The problem with bigotry is that it comes in so many shades and hues. The more sophisticated the community, the harder it is to spot. It is at it’s crudes form when combined with poverty, illiteracy and a sense of social inferiority. I have had some friends make the most insensitive statements about a person of a different race, not because do not mind being labeled racist, it takes a certain level of disregard for civil society to openly admit to be being a bigot. They make these statements out of ignorance, and in the mistaken belief that this is just a conversation amongst “us”, nobody was hurt by it.

There lies the problem, ignorance or not, they are being more honest than they would have ever been had the person they were referring to been with us at the time. If a “White” or “Latino” joke is funny when you are with your “Black” friends, it should be funny when your “White” friends come around as well. If African Americans or black people as a whole tend to play the race card more than others, it is not because we ourselves have somehow transcended race. A thousand years of real and perceived oppression, coupled with generational marginalization has led us to build a racial safety net as a catch all for every insult and injury (real or imagined), that we have suffered at the hand of another race. “He would not treat me this way, if I was white” is almost a manta amongst colored folk. The person could just be a “jerk” to all people, of all races.

Going back to the definition of race for a minute; it is true that the human mind will always look for a way to differentiate itself. We find newer and more ingenuous ways to reclassify ourselves everyday. Hence the reason why in some places tribal differences inspire a hatred that burns with a fire that few racists can match. As long as we continue to see “white people”, “black people”, “Africans”, “Asians”, “Southerners”, “Northerners”, “Ibos’” and “Yorubas’” instead of fathers , mothers, uncles and aunts, the world will continue to be a complicated place to live in. 

The Child.

There is a loneliness to being an adult that childhood does not prepare anyone for. The sobering cold reality of adulthood comes usually in the quiet of the night, when the music has stopped playing, the friends are gone, the TV is off and the mind is on. That is when you realize that all you truly own in this world is beating in your chest and the only true achievement in life is the impact you have in the life of the people that stay on after you are gone.

The dream of independence that fuelled most childhood rebellions juxtapose badly when compared with the personal and total isolation that is grown-up decision making. If you had to do it again, I bet you would have nestled more and fought less. I remember chaffing at the power that older folk seems to have over me, not one day dreaming that I would myself become one of them, the lessons they tried to teach me washed off me like water down a duck’s back, it irritated rather than inspired and as a consequence, I conducted my affairs in a childhood cocoon, blissful to the cold realities of life without the support pillars built in. The truth is I acted a fool, if I did not get one hundred percent attention I assumed it was because they did not care. My mistakes were often erased behind my back so I never had to go back and redo them. My struggles came pre-chewed, softened, so I did not realize the true depth of effort that it took to achieve some of the things I took for granted.

As you look at your children do you see yourself in their innocence or the unshakeable obligation and responsibility that they represent? In their childish resentment for your authority I know they are not thinking about your sacrifices. In retrospect I acknowledge that there is nothing more self centered than the human child but nothing in this world will bring you greater joy than their success and happiness. I just wish I had known all this as a child, i would not have given so much grief, to so many, for so long.

Edu Nnadi

Deep Pools Of Black

I am going to tell you a story, a sad story.
A story of unimaginable misery and a very forlorn story.
This story will leave you in tears.
Iit will leave you angry.
It will leave you with despair in your heart and a gaping hole in your soul.
This is a story about confused youth and gang cultures.
The story of missing dadas' and preoccupied mammies.
It is a story driven by poverty and social marginalization.
A story about the institutionally disenfranchised.
A story about the boy who walked on the wrong side of street.
This is a story about anywhere USA.
A place where the child is raised by the streets.
A place where only one rule matters.
The rule that helps you survive the silence of the city night.
A place where your cry for help will be met by blank stares.
A place where deep and hollow eyes look straight through you.
A place scarred by the viciousness of lives counted in minutes.
Your heart will be broken, again and again.
You will hear of promises being thrown away.
Tales of futures damaged beyond repair.
Tales of men dealing with the repercussions of decisions made as a child.
You will resign yourself to the hopelessness of the times.
You will tell yourself it is the sad savage underbelly of “living in the City”.
The “City” a jungle of a place where boys grow up fast and girls even faster.
A place driven by the one true creed, “I gats to get wats mines”.
I was going to tell you this story.
But you have already heard it, so many times before.
Now the whole thing just washes over you.
Even though you are soaked in it.
You barely stop to reflect on the brutally and stupidity of it all anymore.
This is the sad story of black on black violence.

Edu Nnadi