Saturday, May 1, 2010

A Life of a Phone



At present, The richest man in the world according to Forbes is Carlos Slim Hetu; a Mexican telecoms mogul. Recently, one of Nigeria’s biggest telecommunications firms; MTN declared over 600billion naira profit amidst the economic chaos and losses befalling companies and the economy at large. The above speaks volume of how the emergence of the phone has revolutionised the technological and economic status-quo. The phones unique multi-dimensional applications coupled with personalized ringtones makes the writer posit that the most popular 21st century technological invention is the phone.
Speaking of Phones, The Nation’s Gbenga Omotoso in These Mobile Times, gives a vivid creation of ‘phone-resque’ as he asserts ‘Ring tones are wonderful. From the sonorous tunes to the husky ones. Then the personalised ring tones. This could be the song of a popular musician or the voice of a frontline preacher, saying: "Let somebody shout Halleluyah!"’‘Some of us carry as many as four mobile phones. As we speak on one, the other rings. "Hold on; I’m on another line!" Yet another rings and we complain: "Na wah o; how una take know say I dey here?"’
A popular comedian once hinted, how the phone had turned to God when he described the enormous grip on America’s Individualism due to her use of personalised ringtones. He joked that one day the phone company will buy up the ring tone company and as a strategy cease to give the default ringtones.
Some conservative Nigerian pastors have declared that technology may be inimical to the progress in search of heavenly escapades. In my own opinion, the phone can be said to have further charged up this argument. Inveigle meanings from this; Mr Akande, a Christian mechanic lies to his client that he is purchasing materials for the repairs of that client’s Dewoo when he is actually servicing a richer client’s jeep. Mrs Bamishaye tells her husband that she is in a crucial meeting when she is cuddled up and cuckold in the hands of a younger and more energetic libido. Phone lies are rampant because of the exigencies of the instrument of available lines.
T.S Elliot’s WASTELAND thoroughly reveals the horrible modern life we live in by depicting the mechanistic, unfulfilled life of emotional and relational psychosis. A life of virtual communication performed at the expense of the nuances of facial and gestural cues. An escapist modicum of a life where socialising becomes a problem. There is a sound breeding of complications in an attempt to solve distance in communication.
A naughty post on your facebook page through the ‘cheats’ on the phone says all for the interaction of a young man, no wonder they are failing WAEC,NECO and JAMB. Let’s paint a picture together, a young tech-yippee is asked to write an easy on ‘How I spent my Holiday’, there is a high possibility that it may be written like this.
I spnt my Hols at the Silvrbird Galeria watching films and listenn to music
I got lots of fun and lol.

Though the paragraphs may not be as brutish and short as this, but with this, you would decipher that in the modern existence of general scribble we are faced with students who are wont to misspell, shorten, lose track of context and feel annoyingly exceptional in their self created standards. Phones have also come to play a major role in exam malpractices, boy-girl relationships and the myriad of misinformation posted on the net and searched through google.

ThisDay’s Techno-Mania Takes Control highlights what has become of our lives through this development. When the most intimate relationships are shared through text and your blackberry pre-paid bills takes No.1 on the income scale of preference. When you interact less because of the ‘Young Forever’ song pounding in your ears and the only thing you do for a long time is nod like an agama lizard. Do you buy credit incessantly? Do you pay fewer visits but send text messages to your friends instead, through your multi-dimensional, multi-exceptional phone? If you are pliable to these, you are a free culprit of the post-modernist age.
The great Harvard critic of Literature, Abiodun Jeyifo wrote in The Guardian; Being There For The Call All the Time-Confessions of a Bemused Consumer (1) where he commented on the revolutionary tool of the 21st century called the phone. It has no doubt broken the barriers of communication along the lines of financial stratification as there are expensive and cheap phones. Furthermore, Jeyifo goes confessional when he asserts ‘ I find that I am split, perhaps even schizophrenic subject as far as using the phone is concerned because while I am fairly in control and my individual, existential autonomy is secure and perhaps even consolidated as a maker of calls, as receiver of calls, I am constantly haunted by feelings of a massive invasion and erosion of my privacy, my autonomy, my waking hours, my daily life.’
I totally agree with the superior wisdom of Jeyifo for it is obvious that Phones are taking over our lives. Big business transactions are approved, outsourced and managed through the use of the phone, thereby reducing paperwork. The writer’s poems have now started to assume the first scribble of text messages before final publishing. The alarm clocks, the reminders, the ringtones calling for attention, the bonus offers of sleepless nights by phone service companies and the phone frauds. In fact, when I begin to feel like a phone-prisoner, I switch them off. You will never know how attached you are to your phone unless you lose it, then you realise that the world has left you behind. You have been formatted from the people you know, the professional and inter-personal communications that are the ingredients of your life, DUE TO A MERE PHONE LOSS.
However, phones have come to stay. In Nigeria as well as other countries, the advent of the phone brought about self and corporate employments, skilled and unskilled labour, language developments and destructions, to mention a few. With the exponential improvements and continuous smouldering of naturalness one will totally agree with Ray Kurzweil and David Kelly of the TED fame that inventions are here to either save the world or destroy it depending on how Humans use it.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

A Case of Killer Policemen, the Ikotun Police Force and their Victims

On the 31st of March 2010, I was hit by a motorcyclist, to my greatest astonishment; it was a policeman whom I undoubtedly believe was from the Ikotun Divisional Office located near the Mr Biggs eatery in Ikotun. He merely looked at me with a great sense of ruthless dictatorial power reminiscent of the military days and sped off. He was wearing the uniform, and till now I wish I had gotten his name, but the pain shot at my leg by the effect of his bike did not let me plan any strategy whatsoever.
I am writing this not to find out people to prosecute the ‘police-criminal’ because this will lead to another societal confusion. Shouldn’t the police in conjunction with traffic wardens be the one safe guarding me from the terrible wheels of the known impatience of motorcyclists by controlling traffic effectively? Shouldn’t a police bike have a horn? Should a Policeman be the one breaking traffic rules for no just cause? Shouldn’t a reasonable and people-conscious police force be humane enough to find apologies from their throats or is it stuffed by the many twenty naira notes they are wont to collect?
I had just submitted one of my articles for publication for an international journal that evening and the incident made me wonder. The policeman almost turned me cripple. The Policeman was about to further shatter my already shattered dream; I mean every youth had his dreams for a better tomorrow shattered by the government and their unfriendly, selfish policies. You can see us (Youths) on the streets looking for jobs for donkey years after some National Scheme of doom (NYSC), You can see us (Youths) reading Newspapers, Finding words on facebook and filling profiles on Naijajobs, Jobberman, et al. So the reader can imagine what the policeman wanted to do to me. Who would employ a cripple?
In addition to my anger, I immediately began to think ‘what if I had died?’ ‘What would I be known for?’ ‘How many lives have I affected?’Surprisingly I did not think of the much touted eternal destinations; either heaven or hell. This was what came to mind, ‘Here lies the grave of Morgan Oluwafemi, author of a good, intellectual, promising but largely unsuccessful collection of Poetry, due to the Nigerian Market and the loss of values. The co-coordinator of PacesetterPoets.org; an organisation for promoting promising and award winning poets in Nigeria and One of Nigeria’s many unemployed but promising youths. A fearless, thorough and venomous journalist (during his University days), who survived all odds until he was hit by a Killer Policeman in Ikotun. He survived by a shelf full of books from other renowned and unpopular authors, many published articles, but more importantly far more unpublished articles, an uncompleted collection of Short Story and an uncompleted collection of Poetry. He was not able to touch lives and affect his nation as he wanted to due to this incident. Rest in Peace.
If I had been crippled, I really felt it will be unfair to begin to think of looking like Chinua Achebe when my greater mentor had always been Soyinka. What if I had a chance to put up a fight, I could have been shot and paraded as one of the criminals killed in a shootout. I could have been arrested and blackmailed for being one of the boys who murdered Bayo Ohu; the late News Editor of the Guardian, at least Ikotun was not really far from his Egdeda residence. They (The Ikotun Police Force) could say I was the one used by the military junta to murder Dele Giwa, who I had not met in all my life. Trust the Nigerian Police with their fictitious stories worthy of the Nobel Prize in literature. There was really no need to put up a fight but I would have enjoyed headlines like Youth Kills Policeman after Accident or Irate Youth Kills Policeman in Ikotun.
I have decided to make this simple so that even the less wordy encumbered could see what has befallen the Nigerian Police. The Nigerian Police is not your friend; you can at best call them ‘zombies’ in the exact words of Fela.
I must say in all my writing years, this faithful day of near death experience made me want to own a gun so that I could have caused some havoc. I had walked with all sense of patience at a filling station, quite off the main road, before the idiot in Police garb decided it was my turn to die. I have no apologies for these harsh words of mine, I only plead with the Editor that it be published that way, because with all the facts at my disposal (courtesy news reports) I am made to believe the police decides who lives and who dies. A myriad of Good examples are the murder of the Akpo six, The shooting of a obviously MAD POLICEMAN who kills a bus driver for 20naira, The murder of 6 butchers recently in one of the South Eastern States, the interesting and novel conspiracies they propound that can only be fit for The NNLG Prize for fiction, The parade of innocent victims as armed robbers, the unsolved murders and to cap it up, the rampant and rapacious appetite for 20naira which has increased to fifty, even hundred. It would be fair to policemen to say that they are largely in equal competition with armed robbers, cultists and militants whenever one is really on a reflective journey on the lost souls of Students at protest grounds shot by policemen and the many stories of stray bullets.
There was no need to raise alarm; at least I was alive; largely unharmed to tell the story.
However, there is need to call the Lagos State Superintendent of Police to call his boys to caution, to dismiss any irresponsible policeman as a deterrent to other policemen. I must also call on the Divisional Police Officer of the Ikotun Police Station to engage in high handedness with his boys, that is if he wants to prove to the community that he is not part and parcel of the obvious bad policing in Ikotun; the failures of the unsolved credit card scams, the armed robberies and the unjust actions of his boys. Sir (to the DPO) your boys are a disgrace to the Police force. They are masters at bribes and manipulations and it is high time you act.
Femi Morgan
femimorgan@gmail.com

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

LAMENTATIONS OF A MADMAN

Scene one:
A madman in a psychiatric. A bed, on one side and an adjacent table. He is wearing a heavily stained white top, a shoe on one leg and a different slipper on the other , a sock on the slipper leg, a tight knickers. A tattered hair. There is a tattered news paper on the table.
Madman: life is made of stones, even boastful humans are nothing but clay
shattered in their graves. One day the clay pot will break. I need a
break says the clay pot, so he retires. Retires like an army general.
(jumps on the bed) long since the battles have gone and the guns
(displays his hands as if he is about to shoot, immediately runs to
the other side of the bed) don’t shoot please don’t shoot me. Don’t
you know me, Don’t you know me!( runs back to the soldiers
side) I know you, only when I take away your human rice, your
human beings, you bloody human beans.
(pauses) soldiers are the best you know, not this agbada agbada men. Let me think for all of you, since all of you are mad anyway!. The devil stained my shovel is better than the new soap washing it. The amala without soup, in rancour, is better than smiling in hungry disguise.
I am sick ooo, BBC, EN TII EH EH, WHATAVER, BLA BLA BLA, PEE DRI PEE, Air CONDISHIONER, yangan yangan yangan. Invite me to the state house, I will mistake it for a toilet like you.
You! wura, wara , jara jara.
Labe ile mi when I AM NOT MAD?, the doctors said that my illness is expensive . At what expense? Oh oh, Saudi here I come!
Common ta le vu, get out! I don’t want a French doctor , before you find contracts in oil and gas, gassing all of us with your oyinbo fart. We are thin here oo, we are not fat, we have kidney problem, skin cancer, pericardium ditties, cholera, leprosy, et al et al, pick your choice.
Salam aleikun, salam aileekun, are you the doctor from Saudi?. Where is your lawani?. Why come here, YOU WILL TAKE ME TO SAUDI ARABIA!.
No problem, I will rule from there!
I have general Anthony or is it Anthony general, he hee heee Anthony general from Honduras car heee heeee
Very perfect liar!, he lies more than the devil !. Fact! Guinness Book of world’s record.
(Walks weakly, sleeps on the bed)
Doctor from Saudi, I need life support!
( jumps from the bed) Wait a minute, do we live here in per seconds or per minute
Yes! where is my cabinet, where I put my pants, my condom, a forty year bread and my loud megaphone of lies.( carrying an imaginary luggage)
My megaphone ooooooo, ohh ohh ohh. Very useful! , useful to me but useless to the house. One that rebrands waste product. Rebrands my gutter! and rebrands the maggot that comes out of my toilet!. What do you expect! I need more mad people in my CABINET THAN I AM SANE.
For the love of sanity, I know my mistake. That is my mistake!, I AM WITH A DEPUTY THAT TAKES THE DICTIONARY MEANING AWAY SUDDENLY!. Anytime he is deputy, you know now..., something happens to the oga. I will not hand over!. I will die!, I know I will die, everybody will die. But I will die with my post!. A keeper at the goal post, a stamp at the tip of a tattered envelope.
Hand over?, hand over ke, to that one?, come and cut my hand
Doctor! Doctor!, I am still on life support, per second or per minute?
Go and warn the go-warns anb the barber- and gigi’s that I am still in government, though I cannot recognise. When I was well,I did not recognise anything, now that I am sick what is the big deal with taking a masters degree in unrecognition, and the marijuana of agbada agenda?.
Ehn was it seven, eight or nine points, leave me! Write whatever you want, lecturer will mark whatever he wants
Yes those lecturers, lecturers in primary schools!
They fight!, ASSSU or ASSAULT or what do you call them, they demand for money to teach. let them pass students,Erohhhh! . Three point agenda! Fail the students , sleep with the students and strike for more money.
People are mad oooo!
I don’t know which is more effective with them and the water guard
My boat, one of my very big boats!
Missed on the water. They said it flew away,
Imagine! price giving day? Organised by my company that makes law.
They award one of themselves, at least when you praise a father for blowing up another man’s house.
Job well done! by the many dunces; mumu.
The boko boko and haram haram- newspapers are selling!- good for the economy!
Something must happen that adds salt, magi, epo, eja, meat, curry, yam flour, okro, garri, sugar and some f i n e ashes to the ever stirring porridge.
Bitter Life for Rural Women, and when she dies, there is a campaign, soliciting for Ghana must go.
DOCTOR! Dockita! Duck , doh doh
Am I still on life support or am I supporting lives?
(Footsteps, Door opening sounds)
Madman: yeh! They are coming!, this cannot happen to my government(paces round a little)
Saudi doctor, oya lets go, carry my life support
(Goes under the bed).