Where is Nnamdi Kanu?

In a flamboyant show of force the Nigerian government crushed Nnamdi Kanu’s budding Biafran uprising. Operation Python, was the name given to the army exercise that invaded Abia state to squelch the uprising of the Indigenous People Of Biafra (IPOB) movement on September 14th, 2017.


Members of IPOB have since been arraigned before the Federal High Court Abuja on charges of treason but Nnamdi Kanu seems to have disappeared.

Reports in the media have said he was seen in Ghana, but many people think that is just a ruse. Some Nigerians have declared that an unthinkable atrocity was committed and Nnamdi Kanu’s lawyer has called on the army to produce his client. In a statement, the Nigerian army said they do not have Mr Kanu in their custody and they are unaware of his whereabouts.


Even though, according to Nigerian Law, Nnamdi Kanu is being charged, many people are still concerned about his welfare. It is a fundamental human right that every life be protected. Was Nnamdi Kanu’s life protected? Was he killed? Was he seen in Ghana?


If he is alive, where are the pictures? If he is alive, why hasn’t he made any statement to allay the fears of his supporters?


If he is dead, why isn’t there any outcry by his family in social and mainstream media?

So many questions, not enough answers, but one question remains: where is Nnamdi Kanu?


Unbridled Delight: A Pre-Review Of ‘The Miraculous Deliverance Of Oga Jona’ by Chimamanda Adichie

When was the last time you stumbled on a piece of writing that made you laugh, then made you cry? Then made you laugh through your tears?

When was the last time you read a piece that said all you have always wanted to say yet couldn’t quite find the words or the time or the skill to say it? And did so in a few hundred words?

When was the last time you read something that touched you, gripped you, wouldn’t let you go?

For me the answer is simple: tonight.

It had been a long day, a tiring week and I was just scrolling through the ‘Please Read’ links littered on my phone without missing a beat. Experience had taught me that most weren’t going to be my idea of a pleasurable read. Even the writer’s ‘big name’ wasn’t enough to get me reading:

‘The Miraculous Deliverance of Oga Jona’

It is probably just another drawn out opinion piece harping on the things we know already. I thought. What else was there to say? That hadn’t been said already?

But I was wrong. Ah, I was so wrong.

The story begins with an awakening. Oga Jona, the main character, wakes up miraculously delivered. Upon rising, he discovers all he had been doing and saying wrong and has logical, tangible ideas on how to get things done right.

And wonder of wonders, he starts to do them.

I won’t give anything away here, but let me say the responses of his erstwhile praise singing minions alone are worth your eye time. Plus, there are enough generous spoonfuls of allusion, sub-text,irony and sharp jabs stirred in throughout the tale to make you wish for more.

Midway through the piece I found myself laughing, but as it drew to a close, tears were dripping down my cheeks. They were tears of hope and hopelessness, a rivulet of unspoken dreams and wishes for my dear country Nigeria.

Ms Adichie has done something special here. She has expertly woven the searing pain of the patriotic Nigerian, the possibilities of our desperate situation and the potency of literary magic into an adorable piece that will certainly outlive our time.

One can’t help but wish that this story and @zebbook’s stirring piece “The Gospel According To Farouk”, the best of @elnathan’s “How To Be A Nigerian…” series and a some other great works of contemporary Nigerian satire were made into a book/e-book.

Moreso, one can’t help wishing some Nollywood director would be bold enough to buy the rights to this and make it into a film. I would buy one.

Why, I would buy a hundred.

Because, the message here needs to be shared, needs to be talked about, needs to shown in every Nigerian salon, bustop, market,home and phone.

Today, we still marvel at Fela Kuti’s music and it’s timeless classic message. Fela used his gift to speak about the ills in the society of his day. I can’t sing Afro juju. And well neither can most of us but we can read and we can write. We can ping, and we can tweet. So let’s read and write and act and share.

Let’s get the ‘Miraculous Deliverance Of Oga Jona’ All the attention it deserves and some.

Let’s share it on BBM, Facebook, Twitter, WordPress, Whatsapp and Beyond.

Please let’s read ‘The Miraculous Deliverance Of Oga Jona’ here and comeback back here for some healthy discourse.

And possibly a proper review.

Stay tuned.


Hurting In New Places

I am hurting in new places tonight. Places I didn’t know existed until they began to throb and smart . Which one do I soothe? Which can I heal? Will they ache till dawn?

There’s the matter of my people: small, important yet more fractured than cracked glass. Why can’t we think? Why don’t we see that we are better off together? That together everyone achieves more?

Then there’s the matter of the blogpost. I couldn’t breathe for days after I had said yes. It was like my soul had been mortgaged for three pence. Saying no, was a boulder rolled off my chest. I have no regrets.

About Barbie, it’s difficult. We are siblings. We are one. Before the world at least. But to listen to her assertions while knowing she is just as guilty of the crimes rankles in a space bellow my gut. We can’t talk about it because we’d be labelled as haters but emotions don’t read. So my heart churns with the hypocrisy and insincerity of it all. And the fact that my share holdings pay for the show doesn’t help. I wonder if it would carry the same hype if it was undressed. And shown for the tribalistic bit of bunkum that it is.

About Nigeria, the matter is stale. Yet my heart clamours for community based leadership where people are unbiased and unafraid. Where we can look a man in the eye and say ‘Da Udo, you aren’t a prudent man’. And choose someone we know will deliver because his past shows a track record of success.

A desire, to see growth from the community, in the community and for the community. To see us seek solutions for our problems by ourselves.

To cast aside colonial thinking, ideas designed to prosper The Crown. To re-think local/illegal refineries. Consider upgrading, equipping and licensing them. Giving them a niche. Taxing and supervising their products. Sending young engineers to oversee and assist them. If nothing else, as a blow to our escalating unemployment rate.

When will we think? When will we grow? When will we face the truth and stop living in shadows?

No answers yet, my aching continues.

Time Travel

I remember when gay
Meant happy,
When doggy was a nickname
For Bingo,
When people wrote letters,
Made up tall stories,
About holiday trips,
Without being asked to Twitpic.

I remember when we made our
Own games,
Knew our real names,
Planted our own food,
Weeded our farms,
Went home for New Year,
Hunted snails and mushrooms,
Told tales by moonlight.

I remember when the f-word
Was taboo,
Marriage was forever,
Jobs for graduates were instant,
Suicide bombs unheard of,
Laurels won by merit,
Mobile phones a luxury,
Kidnapping a western anomaly.

I remember and
I wonder,
Are we going back
Or moving forward?
Is this the Nigerian Dream
We longed for?
Are we better now
Or worse off?