Timothy’s Upbringing

Narrator:  In this playlet, the story of Timothy has been given a modern rendering.  This modern iteration of the young minister’s life story traces his family background, career choice, challenges in Bible School and ministry.  The moral being that a godly family environment goes a long way in building character, godly personality as well as success in ministry.  Enjoy

Act 1 Scene 1

Dad:       Darling, today’s match between Mancity and ManU was totally awesome.  Balotelli scored a critical goal lifted his jersey to reveal his vest which had the inscription “Why always me” and this started to trend on Twitter.

Mum:    (Quizzical look on her face) Men and football!  Balo who?

Dad:       (Getting all excited) You will not believe what people came up with using that hashtag: “When I finally made it to University, the Loans’ Board stops funding my course #Why always me”

“When Kanumba finally chooses me for a Bongo movie role, he passes on and I have to start licking boots all over again #Why always me.”

Mum:    (Not to be outdone) You should have watched today’s Nollywood film.  Genievie Nnaji falls in love with Emeka Ike, (wistfully) so, so romantic.  You know, it reminded me of when we first met ….

Dad:       I stopped watching Nollywood the day a coffin was opened and the corpse was sweating! About us, why have these directors no thought it fit to feature our love story, I am sure it will be a box office hit with you playing all that hard to get stuff and making me sweat when you were interested from the word “go”.

Mum:  (Surprised) I never knew you existed until you started pestering me about me being the only sugar in your tea, butter on your bread and life being meaningless without the colour I add …. Where do men get all these stuff from?

Dad: The important thing is that it worked and here you are still adding colour to my life. (holding hands and starring at each other).

Tim:       Dad, Mum; time for family altar as I am about to sleep.

Dad:       Good ,Tim, for reminding us (looking at his watch) it is indeed time.  Let us pray

Song:     When Jesus is in the family

                Happy, happy home 3x

                When Jesus is in the family

                Happy, happy home 2x

Act 2 Scene 2

Dad:       It is that time when Tim must make a decision about what his vocation should be.  Thank God for his A-Level results;  a chip off the old block if you ask me.

Mum:    Thanks for the compliment.  I always knew he had your looks and my brains.

Dad:       Now, now I don’t want to go into any argument.  But I think with his background and interests in Science he should be a rocket scientist exploring the Universe and making information available to us about alien worlds and planets, determining if there is water on Mars to sustain life, discovering more planets and hidden worlds just like I always wanted to before my parents stopped me right in my tracks insisting that we are a family of medical doctors.

Mum:    No, no, he has just the right blend of brilliance and tact to make a good lawyer.  Right from the womb I could feel that we were getting another lawyer in the family.  He will take over my law practice and carry the family name forward.

Dad:       He will be a rocket scientist (arguing and trying to drown each other out with the repetition of the words).

Mum:    He will be a Lawyer (arguing and trying to drown each other out with the repetition of the words).

Tim:       (Coming in and Interrupting the argument) Dad and Mum, I feel God’s calling to full time ministry.  So I am planning to enroll in Bible School next fall.

Act 3 Scene 1

Dad:       Darling I just got an email from Tim.  Should I forward it to your account?

Mum:    Sweetheart, you know I can’t stand this social/new media and stuff.  What happened to the good old letter; what you now derisively refer to as “snail mail”?  Read it to me with that baritone of yours.

Dad:       Here you go

Dear Dad and Mum,

I am well settled in and school work is rigorous and fun.  I have never seen so much passion in prayer and studying the Word.  Teachers and students spend long hours in prayer and the results are amazing.  I got caught up in all of it and I can hear God more clearly.  During our practical training, I was attached to one man of God called Paul and he was so impressed with my work that he has asked me to join his ministry the moment I am done with my studies.  I can’t wait to actually be in the field winning souls for the Lord.  Even when I was with him briefly you should have seen the miracles and signs that followed his ministry.  It is out of this world.  I love you both so much xoxo (he spells it out).  PS: Send more money, my provisions are running low.  Remember, when I am not fasting I need to eat!

Act 3 Scene 2

Dad: Darling, another email from Tim.  I will read it in my baritone voice

Dear Dad and Mum,

After traveling the entire world (it seems). I have finally being given charge of a Church to Pastor.  This is all new territory to me but Apostle Paul has been so helpful.  He wrote me two lengthy epistles about how to conduct myself personally as well as in the ministry.  I have found this of tremendous help in making a success of my ministry.  We have suffered a lot in the work: shipwreck, imprisonment, murderous plots but through it all, the Lord has remained faithful.   I trust your walk with the Lord and Grandma Lois walk is as zealous as I saw growing up in our spirit-filled home.  That foundation has served me well.  I still recall learning in Sunday School from Proverbs Chapter 22:6 - Teach your children right from wrong, and when they are grown they will still do right.   You guys really laid a good foundation.

Paradise Gained

After grueling physical exercise
An enthusiastic wife can press the right buttons
And light up the loins
And the climb very much unlike Pirelli Tyres
Would be power with control
As you meander with great thrust
You can look down to see her satisfied smile
And by the time you reach the top of your mountain
Your sweeping gaze beholds a well-watered garden
And paradise is gained

The Dad’s Test

My son was traumatized by a break-in while we slept the day before that he could not go to sleep the next night. Tried as we may, he kept waking up thinking that the hoodlums were back. So I assured him I would stay awake all night to ensure that they never came back. Every time he woke up in the middle of the night he would see me watching over him. After a few days of returning to his usual sound sleep, he had a compliment for me: “Dad you are strong, brave and selfless”.
I thought about this quickly and replied: “Well, you see if you can’t carry out this task, you don’t get to be Dad. That’s the Dad’s test”.
“You mean if you fail at it, you get to be Mum?” he asked innocently.
That chuckle or outright mirth you hear is from all Dads including yours sincerely for saving a break point from “The Mum’s test”.

Watch that comment and posting on new/social media

The new/social media is the craze of the moment and everyone seems to be lapping it all up. The beauty of new/social media is that it makes for dialogic communication which is inherently human except that now it bridges distances and makes the world truly a McLuhanian global village or better still a town hall.

However, consumers and users of new media are the same old human beings with their virtues and vices. So, what you find is that the same attitude that is present offline has been transferred online. Abusers and haters still ply their trade and put their caustic trademark on news and events as well other person’s comments. The cynical type will coolly point out that it does not add up reporting that the Boko Haram suspect arrested in Enugu who came out of his forest hideout to buy cigarettes but could not find his way back would then lead the Nigerian Police to the same forest hideout that he had trouble finding! The “why always me” (pardon my Balotelli) will recount and lament all the woes that have befallen them. The chauvinists’ throats (hands this time, as in for typing) spew a continuous stream of venomous tirade. The exhibitionists flaunt curves, six packs ….And the beat goes.

What many do not consider is the implication of their postings and comments given that governments and others are now paying attention to social media postings. Perhaps a few examples will serve to bring this home more clearly. Two British tourists were denied entry into the US for tweeting the following: “free this week for a quick gossip… before I go and destroy America” and “3 weeks today we’re totally in LA p-ing people off on Hollywood and diggin Marilyn Monroe up”. They were taken aside when they arrived at Los Angeles Airport, questioned for five hours and deported as in back to sender. How did the US authorities access the humorous tweets between friends? Another valuable lesson from new/social media – there aint no hiding place (pardon my Americanism).

Liam Stacey was jailed for 56 days for racist abuse of Patrice Muamba who suffered a heart attack during the Tottenham and Bolton match at White Hart lane. He had tweeted “LOL (laugh out loud). F*** Muamba is dead!!!” In passing the sentence, the judge according to the Daily Mail noted that: “not just the footballer’s family, not just the footballing world, but the whole world were literally praying for Muamba’s life. Your comments aggravated this situation. I have no choice but to impose an immediate custodial sentence to reflect the public outrage at what you have done.”

Authorities in the West are also mulling jail time for teenagers for sexting – sending sexually suggestive messages and pictures. When an adult wades into these murky waters especially when it concerns minors they will soon be neck deep. Ask Wesley A. Phillips a former Hoquiam High School teacher who was sentenced to thirty days in jail for sending two 12-year-old girls sexually suggestive messages (including the photo of a penis!). It didn’t end there; he was stripped of his teaching certificate and made to register as a sex offender. There is outrage over employers asking employees for their Facebook password.

Justin Bassett got more than he bargained for when during a job interview, after a few preliminary questions, the interviewer started to search for his Facebook page. She could not see his private profile so she asked him for his login information. The profile would presumably speak volumes about the kind of person he is, beyond his slick and prepared answers about his personality! Even in terms of interpersonal, platonic and life-long relationships, a point to ponder- Does your new/social media footprints make you a good candidate?

So before you hit the post button, pause and reflect; probably better to keep your bad behavior offline. Or better still do something about it.

Am I becoming a Cyborg?

I think in Flickr and Instagram; speak in SMS and emoticons; dream in YouTube and Lulu HD; RSS my news; PVR (and DVR) my movies and sports; Avatar my online games, Relax with my Playstation and XBox; BBM, Skype, Facebook my relationships; instant message my contacts; twitter my thoughts; iPad my memories; GPS my driving; compass and map my journeys; Blackberry travel my travels; Master Card and Visa my spending; Blackberry Protect and Find iPhone my cell phones; iTunes, Digital7 and Shazam my music; Siri my commands; Drivesafe.ly and Vlingo my messages; podcast my radio listening; Dictionary.com my spelling and grammar; Google my search; Google Scholar my research, iBooks my books; Weather Channel my weather forecast; iSpeech translator (translate) my Spanish and Swahili emails, Photo Editor my pictures… And the beat goes on, and the beat goes on.
Believe me, my Desktop Computer wrote this while I was sleeping, spell checked and sent it to my blog. Talk of computers having a mind of their own!

Freedom of Information Act and the Nigerian Press and Public as Big Brother

I have just read a news story titled “Kaduna free Ramadan feeding controversy: It’s highly deceptive –ACN]” in the online edition of The Sun newspaper. The Kaduna State government has refused to disclose how much it is spending on Ramadan feeding of Muslims in the state and the Action Congress of Nigeria is accusing the government of going against the spirit and letter of the FOI: “In Kaduna State however, some government officials appear to still be living in the past, as they still find it difficult to volunteer information, as little as the cost that would be required in allegedly feeding certain category of residents of Kaduna, free, throughout the 30 days period of the Ramadan fast.” I knew this was going to happen sooner or later and expect more of these kinds of issues. The reason being that public officers and [s]elected officials in Nigeria are masters of the art of making public (government) business private and shrouding same in secrecy.

The New York State Freedom of Information Law; specifically, Public Officers Law, Article 6 Section 84 Legislative Declaration captures the essence of the FOI Law: “The people’s right to know the process of governmental decision-making and to review the document and statistics leading to determinations is basic to our society. Access to such information should not be thwarted by shrouding it with the cloak of secrecy or confidentiality. The legislature therefore declares that government is the public’s business and that the public, individually and collectively and represented by a free press, should have access to the records of government in accordance with the provision of this article. On a related note, and one of the few times that I am proud to be a Nigerian is contained in the Explanatory Memorandum to the Nigerian FOI Act: "An Act to make public records and information more freely available, provide for public access to public records and information, protect public records and information to the extent consistent with the public interest and the protection of personal privacy, protect serving public officers from adverse consequences for disclosing certain kinds of official information without authorization and establish procedures for the achievement of those purposes and; for related matters.”

But I do know that the noble and ambitious intentions of the FOI will have to clash with the reality of the conduct of the Nigerian government business. The Kaduna issue is just the beginning of the Titanic battle. Even in the U.S., Government agencies have been known to flout the spirit and letter of the law. Treasury Department, the US Air Force, CIA at one time or the other won the Rosemary Award; a doubtful distinction named after Ex-President Nixon’s Secretary –Rose Mary Woods - who erased about eighteen minutes section of a key Watergate conversation on the White House tapes. The beauty of the Nigerian FOI Act is that it anticipates this behavior: “It is a criminal offence punishable on conviction by the Court with a minimum of 1 year imprisonment for any officer or the head of any government or public institution to which this Act applies to willfully destroy any records kept in his [or her] custody or attempts to doctor or otherwise alter same before they are released to any person, entity or community applying for it.” Now, to which past Nigerian leader, master of the art of secrecy and corruption, should we institute and name the Nigerian version of the Rosemary Award after?

In practical terms, the FOI Act means that our servants - the President, Vice President, Ministers, Parliamentarians, Governors, Local government Chairpersons and the plethora of public servants who I do not have the space to mention need to cultivate the habit of looking over their shoulders as big brother (the public; sounds too good to be true ehn?) is watching your every move. When you decide to give that contract to the company that has promised you ten per cent of the contract sum, engage in nepotism so that you less qualified relation gets the position instead of the more qualified compatriot, blatantly steal public funds, embark on a jamboree to foreign lands with wife and children in tow in the guise of attracting investors and all the other misdeeds that have come to characterize government business in Nigeria, know assuredly that we shall apply for that information, which you will provide in seven days! And that is a promise. You would of course try to stall and hide behind all kinds of barriers. The FOI Act also anticipated that move: applicants who do not need to demonstrate any specific reason for asking for the information can approach the courts which will hear the case ex parte. Glory, glory, Hallelujah!

The press which has a bounded duty to hold government accountable on the public’s behalf have a duty to apply for any and every information about government (I mean public) business and make this available. The dry news days are over all of a sudden; this is a news goldmine given the present arrogant and insensitive disposition of public office holders who go against the letter and spirit of the Nigerian constitution that specifies that the welfare of Nigerians is the main purpose of government.

And if the press fails or is compromised, Citizen Imoh, Preye and Zoaka can apply for the information and all that s/he is required to pay is the cost of photocopying the material that can assist in instituting impeachment proceedings against the president, governors and whoever. And when these big men and women, formerly invisible and untouchable demigods begin to fall like a pack of cards, a clear signal would have been sent to the effect that if you do not have the interest of the people at heart, don’t seek public office.

And to public servants and other category of government officials who might be pressured into destroy incriminating records to protect fraudulent and criminal “Excellencies”, the bill protects you as a whistle blower. So, sing like a bird and let their (not our) Excellencies go down alone instead of dragging you down with them. The FOI act has firmly put power back where it was supposed to reside all along – with the Nigerian people. I see a glorious dawn: “Nigeria we hail thee” and so “Arise O Compatriots”.

SWAZILAND WAS RAINING PROFESSORS, RECENTLY

It was raining professors or better still, it was a deluge at the University of Swaziland. As I flew in the midst of egg heads, I noticed the cloud overhang with chances of a few showers (that is me thinking aloud, not a meteorologist, as you would have imagined). The cloud cover would not break as we drove through captivating scenery with gentle-rolling hills, nature-manicured lawns, man-made and well-maintained roads snaking up and down the mountain ranges. I could almost kick myself; why didn’t I know this place when I was getting married donkey years ago. It would have been my first choice for a romantic get away. What a way to start a life-long journey together viewing the mountains, exploring the virgin forest and taking and breathing in, deeply, the traditional ways. But that is a story for another day.
The welome party was at the go as we cleared Customs at the small and compact Swazi Airport; I must remind myself to wake up leisurely on departure day, have a sumptous breakfast and stroll to the Airport one hour to the flight. Afterall, it is not the commotion and complexity of Lagos, Johanneburg or Nairobi airports; where one hour to departure is a sure guarantee that the flight will leave without you. Now the thunder and lighting that accompanies a West African deluge takes centre stage and is to be taken seriously; not empty threats of the Botswana fire and brimstone that passes away with out rain.
The University of Swaziland staff separated luggage into one Kombi (mini-bus) and the visitors into another. To many on this train, I mean mini-bus, this was their umpteenth goings and comings and yours sincerely was just coming for the first time. The novelty of it all inspired this blog (for the records, of course, so you know). Everyone was addressed as “Professor” and the flood, keep in mind the deluge that we kicked off with but you don’t have to suspend disbelief (it is not that complicated) were herded off to Ezulwini Sun Hotel and Resorts, where else but in Ezulwini (what did you expect?). As we checked in, Heads of Deaprtments and other officials started arriving (forget that Saturday is officially a rest day) with graded scripts for the external examiners (who all happened to be professors!) and thus officially kicked off the University of Swaziland annual external examination ritual from Monday May 30th to Friday June 2nd, 2011 or thereabout.
By the afternoon, another rain of more professors and we (I will drint to that) had, officially, taken over the Hotel. How to know this? You just needed to listen to the conversations. It went something like:
“Prof, when I was here last year, this and that was the case”
“Prof, where are you based now? I learnt you left University of Botswana ...”(mum is the word, here)
“Prof, I’d like you to meet, Prof. ...”
“Prof, are you off to town...”
Even the receptionist got into the show. she rang me up, “Prof Akpabio (very professional, did I mention “very professional”?), there is someone at the reception for you”. It turned out to be the Head of Department of Journalism and Mass Communication, bringing more work! How exciting.
Even the Customs and Immigration officers knew their clients were different, I believe the University must have given them a crash induction course as they addressed everyone who moved as “Prof”. Just to be sure, some of the faces, I saw at the airport were not at the hotel and couldn’t possibly have been one of us.
If only the money that academics are paid was commensurate with the respect, acclaim and respect of being a professor, I would have gone on my second honeymoon to Swaziland, of course. Now, wait a minute; did we have a first honeymoon? But as it is, the best I can do is work hard, pray hard for a consultancy so that next year when the University of Swaziland sends me a ticket, I can take my loving wife along for the ride. And as in Germany, where the wife of a PhD holder has a title befitting her remarkable (bold and italics, sometimes Google blogger neglects this, just in case it did again) choice, she can drink in the title (she does not need to exhale, gives more lasting effect, you see) from the University, hotel, customs and Immigration, airlines staff etc. What a honeymoon to remember! What a honeymoon to remember!!
Back to the exercise though; being able to muster so many eggs heads into one space is indeed a remarkable achievement for the University. Mark my words: the institution and country will go places. And I don’t just mean up the ubiquitous mountains that dot the entire country!

Wanted: An Organic Spouse

Not me; I am settled! I mean you, because are young, single and available. Thing is, people are getting increasingly dissatisfied with their bodies. No thanks to the media that is busy making people in the image of the film stars, super models and beauty contestants that is the fare and hallmark of popular culture. And couch potatoes do not just watch, they try it at home; damn the admonition that prefaces difficult tasks and challenges performed by professionals and experts. Any wonder the epidemic of bulimia and anorexia as well as intensive exercise regiment so that one can have the figure of a model; preferably 8 for females and 6 pack for males.

Manufacturers of slimming pills and medicines as well as muscle building concoctions and the medication that ensures that you gain the desired inches are having a field day. The hedonistic, materialistic life style that defines us has spawned a whole industry whose spin offs includes waxing, boob job, booty job, lip job, nose job, Botox, Steroids and enhancement etc. I read a poster once that indicated that enhancement was a process, not an event, so go with our product. The cheek of it all!

Basically, people are becoming genetically modified (GM) creatures. I knew there was something in them GM foods! That is why I am of the considered view that in classifieds as well as dating sites we may soon begin to move away from lonely hearts seeking love, Black girl seeking a Caucasian man, White girl seeking the Black athletic type, recently divorced seeking stable and reliable partner, older males/females on the look out for young, vibrant lovers … to people actually specifying that in addition to the usual honesty, reliability, sensitivity, companionship and the unspoken but implied fat back account, sexual prowess …, that interested persons should be wholly organic!

Let me break it down. Being organic means being exactly how God made you; warts and all - Fat legs, big hips, oblong face, curly hair, thick African lips, thin Caucasian lips, kinky African hair, curly black Indian hair, Chinese eyes, full colour (as in green, yellow, blue, indigo, orange and what have you) White eyes, receding hairline, bow legs, short, thin, fat, tall, Chinese ears, full African booty (as if on steroids), flat Caucasian and Japanese booty (as if they were hit by a plank), Jewish hooked nose, Black flat nose, White pointed nose, small, medium, large and XXXL body sizes. Warts is just a figure of speech, the Maker deliberately went for variety in body sizes and looks to deliberately spice up our lives. But when we become one-dimensional human beings; what is there to choose from?

Mark my words about specification for spouses and give me the credit when the world turns round to demand the organic. But then, am I also among the prophets?

The snooping habits of journalism, media and communication students: Teachers beware

Having been a student of mass communication and now a teacher of the same subject, one can’t help but be amazed by the level of curiosity that this discipline engenders in those who have been bitten by the bug of journalism, media and communication (JMC). My students, naturally and instinctively, scan my desk any time they come for consultation in my office and I suspect that they are on the lookout for news worthy items. You can search me for the outlet that will want to publish such boring stuff: because there are no sex, lies and videotapes here!
Telling them the story I picked up some time back to the effect that Americans train spies so that they can go spy on other countries on behalf of their principal; the moral being that we train journalists so that they can go snoop on others not us, their hapless teachers, does not seem to make too much of a difference. Old habits do, indeed, die hard.
I suppose the up side is that we as teachers are doing our job too well. It is said that the purpose of education would have been achieved if the attitudes and behaviours learnt under instruction continue after the instruction has seized. The snooping habit of our students starts from the time of instruction and develops horns and hoofs even before they graduate!
So, if you are a JMC educator, the moment you hear a knock on your office door and students walk in clear your desk immediately if you do not want to cry foul about invasion of privacy as their eyes rove all over thus detracting from the important discussion at hand. But, before they leave point them to government offices, the private sector etc as avenues for them to ply the trade you have taught them. Hopefully, one day, we shall overcome by getting them to snoop outside and not on us.
A parting shot: I have two words for governments, newsworthy persons and organizations seeing the level of monitoring/close marking that we JMC teachers are subjected to by our very own students – brace yourselves!

GPS and my Driving Experience in Botswana and South Africa

When I wanted to drive to South Africa (SA) recently, a breath of fresh air from my usual flying, I was naturally concerned about how I would find my way around, until a friend told me to get a GPS device (I wish to assure you this is not a sale's pitch or an advertisement even though it sounds like one; one of the few times when it walks, sounds, quacks and taste, yummy, yummy like a duck but it is not one). Now where was I before that long digression? My trip to SA. So I abandoned the road maps; really, a candidate for the museum in this days of IT.

I shell out two thousand five hundred Pula (about $400) for the device mount it on my dash board and off I go. "Turn left at the rotary and follow A1 for 400 kilometers (Kms)" and similar commands in a female American voice (my preference over and above the stodgy British and Afrikaans laced English accent) until a matter of fact: "You have reached your destination" statement; which, if you ask me, is stating the obvious being on the lookout anyway.

You can't but be impressed with the device as it plots your way to your destination giving the approximate time you would arrive (provided
you are not involved in an accident; my life is in your hands, O Lord). It recalculates the arrival time if there is a traffic jam or other delays. It also gives a clear indication of the road with various twists and turns so you know when to overtake that annoying truck billowing thick, black smoke in front of your car for the past thirty minutes.

Even when you need to drive around a foreign town, you have no need for those annoying persons who tell you "go straight ahead, turn right at the intersection and then left again', instead of admitting that they do not know the street you are looking for. Also, the GPS unit tells you where all the speed traps are so that you drive within the speed limit in those places. You can plot a route that avoids all the SA toll gates; but be ready for some not-too-smooth road for your troubles.

Now, to it's weaknesses. It is not able to inform you of the mobile speed traps like the ones used in Botswana. It tells you to go on even if the road has been temporarily closed. And when you follow the digression, it annoyingly reminds you to "turn around as soon as you can" while the arrow points out that you are going in the wrong direction for the past twenty Kms, for good measure.

And a friendly advice: Don't use it in Botswana if you do not want to get lost. Let me share a personal experience. I was invited to Molepolole and told to use the first Engen Petrol station as a landmark to get my bearings. I dutifully typed in Engen, Molepolole. Guess where the GPS Unit led me to? Engen Petrol station, Mogoditshane. Based on this experience, I limit my use to finding the main road from tricky side roads and then switch it off and follow the road signs. So far, I can tell you, so good.

The manufacturer expects you to go on the Internet to buy more up-to-date road maps so that you can drive with greater peace of mind because as they say "7% of the road has since changed". "Tell me something new",I quip. I will make do with the road as it is until it hit the 50% mark. I mean, the world is just coming out of recession and every thebe, kobo, shilling and cent counts!

The Euphoria of Google in Setswana

Batswana and other Tswana speakers are understandably over the moon with the launch of Google service in Setswana. How to know? Sign into your Gmail account from Botswana and what you encounter first are all the messages and direction that would guide you into Gmail, scholar, search and whatever else you do in Google all in Setswana. As a non-Tswana speaker, I’ve had to grope my way around the site and I consistently miss my Gmail link. I try to remember where the link is from the old days when everything was in English. And because I’ve never had to memorize this placement in the past, this strategy does not seem to work. So, I move on to my back up plan. What sounds very much like mail in (from my little knowledge of) Setswana, Kaedi? Wrong again. (I know, I know, I should have made an effort to learn the language, but let’s drive away the fox first before we blame the chicken for wandering too far afield). So I move from link to link until, thank God for little mercies, I finally happen upon English (that colonial language again) with palpable relief and then proceed to find my way around with renewed confidence.

From my little knowledge of Setswana, Batswana (citizens of Botswana, not Botswanans; take note Asians, Americans, Europeans and non-SADC Africans, especially Nigerians!) prefer the spoken to the written version of the language. My research assistant in a survey research I did in Botswana some time back insisted that we print fewer copies of the Setswana version of the study instrument because Batswana characterize the written version as difficult to read. And he did return most of the Setswana copies unfilled unlike the English version. It seems people prefer to be read the questionnaire items than reading and reacting to same. If this experience is anything to go, it may well be that after the initial feeling of national pride, at this Google’s public relations and marketing coup, Batswana may well want their (English) Google page back. Out of curiosity though, which (Setswana) spelling version does Google favour (Dumela, Dumelang)? Over to you Tswana speakers!

I have always maintained that the Tower of Babel biblical account must have taken place here in the African continent. Look at the multiplicity of languages all around us. While Google must be commended for the Setswana initiative as this is guaranteed to keep the language alive, what of the rest of the languages in the continent that are slowly becoming extinct because they are not Bible, Catechism, UN or official languages etc? May be it is about time we started to deploy IT in the task of preserving African languages and culture. I, for one, would be willing to buy an Ibibio language software package that can teach my children my language. A parental task, I must admit, my wife and I have failed at. I take solace in the fact that older couples from the same ethnic stock living far from home are in the same boat as yours truly. And the way today’s children have embraced IT, it will qualify as cool learning local languages this way.

President Jonathan’s visit to Akwa Ibom State: The fallouts, the moral.

There was a robust debate online about whether or not President Jonathan endorsed the sitting Governor of Akwa Ibom State in his comments when he visited the state recently. The gist of the debate involved accusations and counter accusations about the performance of the governor given that Akwa Ibom State gets the largest allocation among the thirty six federating units and his second term ambitions. Throw in issues of ethnicity, name calling, the kidnapping saga … and eureka you get a very clear picture. The whole brouhaha about endorsement is a throwback to the conviction that without this (not the voters who wear the shoes and feel the pinch, if any!) the incumbent would not make it at the polls.

The ethnicity question is really my concern here and you can extrapolate my thinking to the Nigerian nation; the choice is yours. The governor is from the minority Annang ethnic group and there are charges that he is promising to deliver the governorship title to other minority groups like the Oron, Eket … to spite the Ibibios who he perceives to be more stridently opposed to his second term ambitions. Again, voters are not factored into the equation when democracy involves the minority having their say and the majority having their way.

Like Achebe, the distant kinsman is a brother in a far country. Akwaibomites living outside of the state regard themselves as brothers and sisters, and the common term is akobusem (if you are expecting me to get the spelling right, you must have another think coming having never lived in the state for up to a year continually at any given time). The Ibibio language that I speak is the real mother tongue (from my parents, of course). I did pick up a few words during my undergraduate days at the University of Calabar but I did also notice that the Efik speakers looked down on my brand of Lagos Ibibio while seeming to understand the Uyo etc brand so I had to tuck in my neck and speak English as much as possible to avoid being corrected over and over again. I was pleasantly surprised when my mother came to visit once and I could hear her speak fluent Efik for the first time to a cab driver. I also recall going to visit my Aunt in the village and she commented on my code switching with something like “you can’t even speak proper Efik (not Ibibio which we all speak)”.

Our oneness as a people came out clearly during one of my long distance bus trips to Uyo. A quarrel ensued between two of the passengers on the bus. I could feel for the lady as she launched into Ibibio to verbally abuse her opponent. He quickly switched from the Ibibio he was speaking to Oron language (I presume, which was Greek to me) which he was more comfortable with for the purpose of hitting back. The lady screamed at him to speak the language she could understand and the other passengers who could follow both languages insisted that it was OK since he was speaking an Akwa Ibom language. Talk of another Lagos Akwaibomite in addition to yours truly.

The plot thickens. My late in – laws are an interesting example. My father – in –law was from the Annang ethnic group and my mother – in – law was from Eket and they lived in Lagos almost all their lives. As a compromise, my wife and her siblings learnt and speak the neutral (for their purpose) Ibibio language. Of course, my wife is proud of her Eket roots and tries to dazzle me once in a while with some Eket (as opposed to Annang) words. At home, we speak English and Ibibio; and Yoruba if we do not want Akwa Ibom people around us to understand what we are saying. If we do not want the children to be privy to our discussion we speak Ibibio although my eldest daughter is picking up, maybe we should try Yoruba; what do you think?

Another case in point, my traditional wedding was in Lagos and we tried to replicate as much as possible how it is done in the motherland. In fact, when I told some people in Uyo that we did our traditional wedding in Lagos they insisted that we got it all wrong; it should have taken place in Akwa Ibom state. My response: It is a free world and everyone is entitled to their opinions. I mean look at the Yorubas, who do traditional weddings of their sons and daughters using pictures of the couple who are domiciled abroad and the Heavens do not fall. How does the venue add or detract from the marital bliss which should be the natural outcome of the married state? You can search me too.

The moral is that we have lived together for too long to allow politicians and other self serving persons to play up our differences to Rwanda and Burundi us in this towering Babel of ethnicities and languages that is Akwa Ibom state, Nigeria and Africa.

Now that President Jonathan is on facebook

As a matter of academic and professional interest, I have been following GEJ, that is the trademark sign off of the President on his facebook page and of course also browsing through comments and views of Nigerians. Let me declare my interest promptly: I teach media and communication outside the country and I have been racking my brain as regards what to research on about Nigeria for the numerous conferences and publication that await! I do not deserve your pity; my choice of career was self-inflicted. So the activities on this facebook page was a God sent. I refuse to divulge the slant of my research so that other academics don’t beat me to the gun.

One comment did stand out though; when a Nigerian posted that whoever is impersonating the president and deceiving Nigerians by writing on the page should stop forthwith. A poignant commentary about the arrogance of our past leaders who were completely insulated from the daily lives, struggles and challenges of their compatriots. So, some Nigerians can’t in their wildest imagination see the Nigerian head of state relating directly to the people. In the part of the world where I live it is a pleasant surprise that the political movers and shakers mix with the people; go to the same shopping malls and people don’t bat an eyelid when they see them. These leaders have learnt their lessons quite well: You climb on your high horse, like the award winning Axe commercial model to tell the ladies how their man should smell, and you are voted out. Where to view the axe commercial? YouTube, you technophobic reader! That Nigerians are hungry for this kind of conversation is apparent from the increasing number of persons who like the page and keep commenting.

Of course the president cannot possibly read all the comments. Even I am struggling with the few friends I have on facebook, twitter and Foursquare. If I need to meet a deadline, I forget to check in at the tennis club where I am mayor on Foursquare, forget to tweet for weeks and black out facebook. To my peeps on facebook this explains why I did not send you birthday wishes. Next year will offer another opportunity. Of course I do all these to keep in touch but also, as an academic, I do not want to become a museum piece in the area of media and communication. I won’t bore you with the apps I have downloaded from the iTunes store and how I do not have a need for many of them and how my children have invaded my iPhone space. When I get the iPad, remind me to upload the video on YouTube of my five year old listening to old - fashioned bedtime stories by swiping her hands to turn the pages of my iPhone.

But this provides a good opportunity for the many media and communication graduates to get off their butts and play a role in the communication machinery of government. Away with the fixation of hiring former journalists as communication and public relations executives and their narrow media relations outlook! To my former students, you can see I am rooting for you, so carry go! So they can go through the various postings and give an executive summary to the president. And the president, just like other statesmen/women who pretend to have written the speeches they deliver at the UN, will then respond to Nigerians’ concerns. His re-election will then be guaranteed by the people not by Godfathers whose only credential is stuffing stolen ballot boxes and, as a reward, getting hefty pay offs from the state treasury. Just like the sad ending of the silent movies’ era, where some talented persons had to move over with the coming of sound, these relics would be consigned to the dustbin of history with the envisaged electoral reforms, like the good looking stars with squeaky voices.

All government setups will also have to have email addresses and facebook pages so that Nigerians can complain/commend service provided. If this was in place, I would have posted my disenchantment with the goings on at the Nigerian High Commission in Johannesburg where my wife, our four little children (ala I have a dream) and I were subjected to a grueling and distasteful experience last December in our quest for the ePassport after traveling down from a neighbouring country. In the same vein, I would have also posted how the collection of the ePassport experience went smoothly like a well-oiled wheel. This way, all the arrogance, bribery, tribalism etc would be exposed and this might even be the beginning of the revolution that would be agreeable to Nwabueze and Danjuma. Shi kena.

Traditional communcation

The field of indigenous communication is enigmatic and quite interesting. Even without realising it, everyone has something to offer to this field. However, the frenetic pace and growth of the modern mass and new media sometimes means that scant consideration is given to these forms, with some going so far as to question its continued relevance. The reality of its continued relevance is well documented in my text - African Communication Systems: An Introductory Text - which I am currently reviewing.