
I live in exile in a strange country, surrounded by strange people speaking in strange tongues. I visit my home country the way Yankee tourists visit the Riviera, two weeks at a time, once a year. I only stay two weeks; because even my nostalgia is no match for the fear at the pit of my belle every time I am offered a glass of “pure water”, or the way my friends catapult from the back to the front of the car when I am forced to take evasive maneuvers to avoid giant holes in the middle of the highway. My time at home is always short, I am always in a hurry to return to this my new found land where I have chosen to hide myself. My shame runs deep, like the pools of mosquito infested stagnant water at the village, I cry at night from the pain that I know is somewhere being inflicted on the unlucky and the targeted by heavily armed thugs that own the darkness and the streets after 8.00PM. Somehow despite a GDP of $147 billon, the scream of the dying grows stronger by the day, you see my country is host to the silent curse of the big disease with the little name and unknown cure. Medicine cabinets are stocked full of fake drugs dispensed by unlicensed pharmacists and powerful priests claim to cure all kinds of illnesses by lays hands on people’s head. I internalize my sorrow a lot , when I am at home I can’t call my friends, I barely have any minutes and even when I do the South African company that owes my cell line is charging me 40 times what normal people would pay for the same service anywhere else in the world. There are plenty of others like me, we hang around the nice parts of this make belief place, wear fancy clothes and pretend to be something we are not, Americans. Everywhere I look I see doctors, lawyers, engineers, architects, artists, artisans, bankers, accountants all like me, lost souls trying to find a new meaning in Diaspora. The brave have abandoned their culture and left their heritage and history to be described by the lives of the unfortunate, the greedy, the unscrupulous, and the lost. I want to find outrage in my heart but my soul is empty, I have drained all my tears and my eyes are like hollow dark pools of black coal. The possibility that I will one day return to my homeland permanently is remote, you see I have broken bread here, my children will be born here, they will call this land home and refer to that distant place with the rich dark brown soil and the canopy of a thousand year old giant Udala trees as Africa.




Either way, so these days when even the smart guys are getting taken, when banks are falling victim to fraudsters and conmen, you now have to ask yourself, who scares you more? The semi literate trying to pull a “Yahooze” from an internet café in Lagos or the Palm Beach Country Club snob, that was “Investing” the money of friends and family? Imagine this, Bernard Madoff runs into a friend, despite the fact that he knows the man is broke (after all, he just “invested” some of his money) he will seat with him and eat expensive steak dinner, drink $100.00 a shot Cognac, and tell him to can rest easy, that his money is safe. The fact that the SEC did not bother scrutinizing a fund seating on $50B (How much is Nigeria’s budget for 2009?) in capital, tells you something about how completely this guy was trusted in the investment community. The sheep list covers every spectrum; it includes major European banks, probably your 401K mutual fund, movie producers, pension boards, labor unions, it seems to go on and on. 

There are so many shady characters around these days. There are the guys on TV telling you “ I earned $9K a month doing nothing” all you have to do to be like me, is visit the website 82fastmoney.com, the TV station does not mind collecting the AD revenue, even if the message they are spreading is barely legal, nobody cares. These days every time I turn on the TV, somebody is offering a “reverse mortgage”; or in other words selling your property one monthly payment at a time. They claim it a way for seniors to tap the equity in their homes without ever moving out, I say it a way for banks to steal homes from the elderly while they are still alive. Websites Offer 3 month PH.Ds, nobody thinks it is bad idea, it’s all good fun until somebody gets hurt, then it’s just news. 
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Fannie and Freddie – This refers to the gay couple living down the street. They are very unreliable; and will flake on you if you invest in them. They do not work but have very rich parents and therefore throw money around as if it is nothing. But because they are always sending everybody gifts, they are beloved despite their flaws.





He chose his running mate carefully.
Initially his base was not too enthused about his candidacy.
But eventually they came around.
Then they took over.



He talked about the corrupting influence of money in politics.
Then came the debates, where he aggressively tackled the issues.










At least that is what it says in
This tickle down nonsense, seems curiously familiar to this Nigerian, I knew I had seen it somewhere before; but I was not sure where? An economic environment in which the ruling class and their well connected friends, initiated a plan to rob the treasury and pass the burden of repaying the mess on the country while they themselves swiftly proceeded to retire to a life of luxury and great wealth? OH MY GUSH, it is the same thing IBB and Uncle Segun were doing to Nigeria all these years. Turns out that greed and corrupt is universal; and was not invented in Africa contrary to what you might have heard.



