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Ugochukwu Ejinkeonye’s published
articles on various literary, political and social topics, have
enjoyed widespread critical acclaim in his country, Nigeria, and
abroad. He has also written a number of poems and short fiction,
though some of them have not been published. Ejinkeonye was born in Umuaka, Imo
State, Nigeria, and was educated at the Universities of Port
Hartcourt, and Ilorin where he took degrees in English and
Literature in English. At the University of Port Harcourt where
he emerged the best graduating student of his class, he edited
Uniport Mirror, a magazine published by the University.
Presently, Ejinkeonye is on the
Editorial Board of Daily Independent (www.independentng.com),
a national newspaper published in Lagos, Nigeria. He writes a
well-read weekly column (scruples) on the back page of the paper
every Wednesday. His articles have equally appeared on several
internet media sites.
Interests: African, Caribbean,
Afro-American Literature, Afro-centric Thought, and Criticism.
Advocacy for Democracy and Good Governance
Ugochukwu
Ejinkeonye writes a column for Independent
www.independentngonline.com every Wednesday
scruples2006@yahoo.com
www.ugochukwu.blog.com
* * * *
* With his novels, superb lectures and rich
essays, Achebe was able to compel the world to alter their
entrenched warped views about Africa. After a particularly
brilliant and spectacular speaking engagement in Canberra,
Australia, in the summer of 1973, Professor Manning Clark, a
distinguished Australian historian wrote to Achebe and pleaded:
"I hope you come back and speak again here, because we need
to lose the blinkers of our past. So come and help the young to
grow up without the prejudices of their forefathers..." I
find this display of sincerity very touching.
But the pain there is that while those on the
other side of the big divide were showing sufficient remorse for
their twisted perceptions of Africa, and letting their
"blinkers" fall off, to enable them improve their
long-blurred vision, our "big names down here, were, most
unfortunately, falling over themselves to "prove" with
every strength in them, that like our misguided African American
brother, Booker T. Washington, in his book, Up From Slavery
(which Ngugi said should have been called, Back To Slavery),
they are scared of losing their chains. Achebe
Another birthday in exile
* * * *
*
I will not condemn Diane Abbott. I
would rather regard her as a true friend of the long
suffering masses of Nigeria. The real enemies of Nigeria
and Nigerians are those discrediting her unimpeachable
testimony, which the regime in Abuja needs from time to
time, to help it develop the right attitude to
governance. Even if the Abuja regime insists on
remaining totally destitute of pity and compassion for
impoverished Nigerians, the continued exposure of the
rot and underdevelopment it is religiously creating in
Nigeria by such influential personalities like Diane
Abbott, might achieve a change of heart in them. Indeed,
it is clear from Abbott's article that the corruption
she denounces in Nigeria is official corruption, the one
perpetrated by leaders, hell-bent on milking Nigeria to
death. She believes that based on what Nigeria is
earning daily from oil, Nigerians should be living in a
more decent and well-organized society.
Diane Abbott A True Friend
* * * *
*
As I followed the
sad story of Mr. Knuckles’ downfall, I began to ask
myself whether he would have bothered to even address
the issue, if he was from my own country. In a country
like Liberia, described by one of its citizens, Rufus S.
Berry 11, as having “a chronic, pervasive problem with
sexual immorality”, I am amazed that a national outrage
could attend the shameful misbehaviour of Mr. Knuckles,
although, there were muffled noises here and there about
“human rights” like the one contained in the unedifying
article by Professor (Ms.) Francien Chenoweth Dorliae,
in the March 3 article of The Perspective. A public
officer need not be told that there is a minimum
standard of conduct expected of him, and that he loses
the right to behave anyhow once he is appointed into
such an office. Liberia
The Willis Knuckles Saga
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*
Table
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I have taken time to examine the various
tributes paid to late Stella Obasanjo by several characters that
have over the years over-tasked the Nigerian public space with
their uninspiring presence. The most prominent description of
her, which was later seized upon by countless unimaginative
mourners and plagiarized and recycled several times over to the
point of almost turning it into a national slogan, was the one
in which she was called “the mother of the nation.” It would
be interesting to look out for the inventor of this ingenious
phrase, who, most unfairly, stands the chance of being denied
due dividend for his “intellectual property,” as his voice
has been effectively drowned by more strident ones in the battle
by desperate mourners to out-mourn each other. Indeed, many people may want to contest the
propriety of describing Stella as the “mother of the
nation.” Well, that one is their business. What no one would
be able to deny her is the fact that she was a very good, caring
mother – to her only son, Olumuyiwa Obasanjo. She loved the
boy so much, and was hundred percent committed to his welfare,
happiness and comfort.
A Mother Like Stella Obasanjo
* * *
* *
Although I got the invitation to attend the special
reading in Osundare’s honour on Saturday March 10, at
The Jazzhole, Awolowo Road, Ikoyi, I could not make it.
The Association of Nigerians Authors (ANA) also met at
the National Theatre that same evening for its monthly
reading, which it dedicated to the great poet. There
were other equally exciting gatherings of the tribe at
other venues in Ibadan and Lagos and Ikere Ekiti, where
the leading poet was, was most deservedly, wrapped with
shinning encomiums and celebrated with enchanting
chants.
It is now widely accepted that Osundare is Africa’s
finest poet. His way with words is distinct and rare. It
is impossible to read Osundare’s poetry and not be awed
by his great insights, and overwhelmed by the great
talent he betrays, and the exceptionally overpowering
way he deploys words to great effects. His ability to
create very vivid and lasting imageries in the mind of
the reader, the rhythms he realizes so effortlessly, and
the deep, fresh meanings his poems yield each time one
reads them, are what, in my view, makes his work stand
out all the time. Niyi
Osundare At 60
* * *
* *
Now, because, the girl and the preacher lay
near the bush, shielded a bit by the body of the bus, the man
whispered to her that this was their only chance to escape, as
those men could kill all of them, once they re-emerged. They
slowly, and noiselessly, crawled into the bush, and made good
their escape. They never believed their guard would not see and
gun them down. Yes, they never believed it. They just tried it
nonetheless, and it worked. And suddenly discovering themselves
safe and free, even though, stark nude (who cared again?),
they ran very far into the bush. Soon, they began hearing
gunshots from the place they just had escaped from. They ran
farther inside the bush. And about an hour later, convinced the
men must have left the place, they traced their way back, still
with fear and trepidation, hoping, at least, to retrieve their
clothes. But when they got there, they saw nobody or vehicle or
anything. Only blood splatter everywhere! Indeed, it was
doomsday as the young men had promised!
Then, wearily and fearfully, they commenced
the painful, arduous task of tracing their way to the direction
they believed would lead them to the road. Fortunately, they met
Fulani herdsmen in the bush who ran back on sighting them. But
with the aid signs, the man was able to make them realize they
needed clothes.
Where Then Shall We Run To
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*
created 8 March 2007 /
updated 15 October 2007 |
