Naija-born Bloggers aplenty

When I started out exploring the blogosphere (blogville? The names tire me abeg), I was quite ignorant about its true size. I also knew virtually nothing of its makeup or its various architects. Funny enough, I also thought I was a pioneer.

Not a pioneer blogger of course, but a pioneer Nigerian blogger. Yeah... right!

At the time I had no idea there was a whole generation of pioneers who had come before me. But then when you think about it, I should have realized it. I mean c'mon, I only started doing this in 2007. Some Naija bloggers been online since 2004. Probably longer.

I began to come across Naija blogs all dealing with such a diverse range of topics that prove that we Nigerians are not monolithic in our thinking. These fellow explorers would dive readily into issues Nigerian society as a whole wouldn't touch.

I found that Naija has some really bright young philosophers on the net. We've also got a lot of vixens, gangsta wannabes, political analysts (of course), sports enthusiasts, hobbyists and lobbysists, poets and our fair share of narcissistic egomaniacs spouting a lot of self-centered rubbish.

Nowadays, one or two of our Naija superstars are catching on and a few are expressing themselves and connecting with friends and fans through blogs.

Then there's those bloggers for whom a blog is simply a diary through which they can allow others to critique their actions under cover of anonymity.

And I almost forgot the entertainers whose blogs make a nice humor detour on a busy day. Others take you on a voyeuristic journey into their escapades (sex-capades?).

Long and short, Naija-born bloggers are plenty and growing by the day it seems. To those who came before, I throway salute. To those keeping the flag flying, maintain the flame. To those blogs yet unborn, we eagerly await what you will yet build in the Naija Blogosphere.

When the movie 'Living in Bondage' was released in 1989(?), no-one could have predicted a time when actors would earn N1million per movie. When Majek Fashek and his ilk were struggling to make it on the music scene, noone could have foreseen record sales of hundreds of millions of naira.

So who knows where blogging is headed. Perhaps to a time when we'll all get paid by media interests to become legitimate writers. Perhaps to an age when your expertise is recognized and translates into money made from speaking engagements. Perhaps some of us are the movie scriptwriters Nollywood needs to go to the next level?

Anyway. Let's toast... To the growth of a new industry.

Cheers!

PS. I wanna give a shoutout to Naija Fine Boy who's signed out of blogsville for good. We're gonna miss him. (http://www.naijafineboy.blogspot.com)

Who's Ur Daddy?

This is gonna be my first series. (Yay! Milestone!). And it was brought about by the emotional high I hit recently by discovering things about my ancestry that I had never known.

Let me say first off that I don't expect this to be an easy ride for everyone. I have a dear friend who at age 26 has no idea who her father is. I'm not sure if her mom doesn't know or simply won't tell.

Needless to say for people like herself, the very title of this series could be quite painful to read.

I know my daddy. And for that I am truly grateful cos I cannot imagine what life would have been without that knowledge. Knowing him is a thing I took for granted until recently - which I believe is as it should be.

I know my father is the last child of a one-time Balogun of Ibadan. I know he literally went to a private school (his dad set it up so he could school at home). I know he lost his dad at age 7. I know life in that polygamous family was never the same after that.

How relevant is this knowledge to me? VERY. Understanding the forces that shaped my dad helped me appreciate the man. It helped me love the man in spite of the man. It helped me see his mistakes as just that - mistakes.

It saved me from hate and allowed love to blossom. And trust me, I had my fair share of reasons to hate him. Knowing his past helped me appreciate his present and to some extent, my future.

So I ask you: How well do you know the man that fathered you? Who's your daddy?

Mista Kunta Kin-Jay?

I've never really given much thought to my ancestry.

Not because I don't care - after all everyone gets curious about grandpa and grandma. Even those who never knew them. There always seems to be a little nagging desire to belong somewhere.

I'm saying all this now as if I've always felt this way. I haven't. In fact the whole "roots" thing was as far from my thoughts sometimes as Chicken George was from Naija.

Until recently.

My father's a yoruba man, my mother's okpella, I was born in Port-Harcourt and lived my whole life in Kaduna. I communicate fluently in only one language - English. Actually, so do a lot of modern Nigerians. I've had lots of people try to explain to me the benefits of identifying with my culture and speaking my language. My response? Which one?

I once traveled to Ibadan and felt so out of place among my "own people" that I was tense throughout; until I drove into the Sabo area in Ibadan and overheard some fellas speaking Hausa. Phew!

"Sanu nku" I was relieved to blurt out much to their delight. But being limited even in that language I could only converse for a couple of minutes.

"Sai an jima!" and I was outta there. Me, the modern Nigerian.

Recently though, an uncle in the states emailed the family a book about our grandpa that totally changed the way I previously saw the man. He was quite a businessman in his day. In fact, he was once the richest man in Ibadan and in line to rule to ancient city.

Now although it had always been common knowledge how rich and famous he was, being ensconced it the north far away from my family roots really dulled the impact of the family legacy on my life. He was such a vague personality to me that the degree of detail in the book of his exploits just blew me away.

The old fellow racked up enough entrepreneurial firsts to make it into any worldwide business hall of fame. Not for the first time I lamented my country's tendency to celebrate mediocrity and ignore true achievement. I mean really, what good have most of those strutting around as our leaders done for us? Maybe that's why you can only really impress me through your private sector prowess.

On a personal note, I gained a satisfying insight into myself. I began to see our similarities and understand the things that drive me to explore and seek to improve the status quo. I now understood the entrepreneurial bent my father, my brother and I have. And I was inspired to keep at it till I achieve all I had ever dreamed of doing.

Looking back at grandpa helped me understand my vision for myself and my nation. And now more than ever, I am resolved to take my place in Naija as one of those who changed it for the better. Thanks grandpa.

Thief Tafa Balogun

I was thinking the other day about how short our collective memories can be. So much that ought to stand as a warning for all time in the annals of our collective consciousness gets pushed into apparent irrelevance.

In this nation, we've seen dictators turn into raging democrats, junta dons reaping more democratic dividends than anyone person deserves, chiefs proven to be thieves and thieves turned into chiefs.

I just heard that former IG of police, the legendary Tafa Balogun, was conferred with a chieftaincy title in his hometown. All I could think was… why?

This is the same person who stole billions of naira, confessed and was even convicted and did (soft) time in prison – the biggest dishonor imaginable to a policeman not to mention a police chief. And they honored him.

He embarrassed his office, brought ridicule to members of his family and shamed his community. And the elders of the same community in their wisdom turned around and lifted his hand as a worthy son to be emulated. God help us all.

His is not the only case of such irritating foolishness brought about by a combination of communal myopia and selective amnesia, but it certainly is one of the most galling particularly since it represents a new low – now even the convicted government thieves can expect chieftaincy titles.

I recall when Bayelsa's former governor DSP Alamieyeseigha was turbaned in Katsina state. It was a carnival. Those who attended said they had never seen so much money on display. I recently saw a towel commemorating the event, typically I had to take a snapshot of the poor old thing.

It seemed life could only get better and better for Alams. Instead he ended up as the poster boy for corruption in governance and gave us our most monumental national embarrassment ever when he fled the authorities in the UK. Our Nigerianness hit a new low that day.

Imagine if our traditional rulers would resist the pressure to honor those of questionable character and dubious financial means. Imagine if our people would let it be known what they really thought of such people's actions. Imagine if our fathers would all refuse to attend such debacles. I doubt that will change in a hurry, everyone wants to eat free food and carry towel souvenirs home.

Thank God for the father of a friend who turned down the invitation to attend Chief Tafa's event on account of what people would think of him – a noted criminologist – fraternizing with the biggest criminal ever caught and punished in recent history. May our fathers not shame us in their lifetimes.

Here's a thought: Yar'Adua was governor when Alams, a rumored police thief turned governor, was turbaned the kjhgdhg of Katsina. Now he's president when a convicted police thief is honored as a chief. Sigh… I wonder if my friend got another towel this time.

Me and 419ers sef

Hey, I'm back. It's been awhile. So much has been going on in my life recently and no link at work for like 2 weeks (gasp!). I don't what makes me a magnet recently for scam mails O. (could it be spending time on forums and stuff?)

I just got one of those intelligent fraud mails. I say "intelligent" cause unlike the ones that land in your box with enough zeroes to make you dizzy, this was a "500,000.00 GBP" mail.

I logged into my mailbox and since I'm currently addicted to facebook, I didn't even glance at anything without the word facebook in it.

And I must say this; I'm a very, very bad target for these scammers and 419ers. It took me a full hour to even open the mail and 3hours to notice that I had won the "lottery".

Send me mails and I literally don't notice them. Call me and I try to help you find a way to do what you want to do. Imagine me telling a guy on the phone "Why don't you call the police to help you?"

I once was met by a tag team pair of 419ers. I met one guy who claimed to have come from Sierra Leone with goods for one lady and couldn't return with them. Another who played the suspicious passer-by. I was such a bad mark that they just left me alone.

But these guys are everywhere. It's like they're trying to get me with all they've got. I've been accosted on the street, I joined facebook and got a phony call that same day, and now I'm back to getting emails. Make una pray for me O.