I Know it Sounds Crazy, But I Miss Nigeria...

Regular readers of my blog will know by now that I'm not afraid to change my mind. I can stand 100% behind a position today, then change my mind later based on new facts, evidence or change of feelings. (Witness my 'I love her/I love her not/I love her again re: author Chimamanda Adichie) Heck, even my faith in God wavers sometimes. It might be a character flaw, or it might be a sign of intellectual honesty and an unbiased open-mindedness. I'll go with option two.

Whatever it is, the fact is that contrary to my kinda negative portrayal of Nigeria in a previous post and my rush to leave it a few months ago, I now miss it. I miss Nigeria. I wish I didn't though. It would be so much easier to turn my back on it, what with its Boko Haram and Ebola and a plethora of misfortunes and calamities and dangers and problems facing the country every day, plus the impending elections in 2015 that many predict will cause even more bloody unrest.

 Good ole' Nigeria: My embattled country

But I lay down at night and wish I was back in Abuja.

There are two major factors that draw me back to Nigeria, one of which is my profession. Yes folks, being back in England has humbled me career-wise. Where in Nigeria I was top of the food chain thanks to my impressive British education, training and experience; impressive portfolio of previous work, impeccable British accent and the confidence that comes with knowing your country values you and wants you, which shines through and makes you even more attractive to prospective employers and clients; in England I'm having to start from the bottom again, not that I was ever even at the top to begin with.

My almost three years abroad has knocked my professional trajectory back down a few pegs, but more than that is my own perception of self. I feel less wanted here. My colour, my experience, my time spent abroad in an unsavoury country, all of that has merged together to give me an inferiority complex, which I presume is written all over my face as I sit in waiting rooms waiting to be interviewed. The chip on my shoulder must be so big right now. Sometimes I even talk myself out of a job before applying: "Nah, The Guardian wouldn't want me, I didn't go to Oxbridge and I'm the wrong kind of Black."

 Bad News: They didn't want me

Actually, regarding The Guardian newspaper, despite its credentials as a liberal, left-wing publication and champion of minorities, I went to its offices in London for a job training/interview stint years ago and was blown away by how male-white-middle-class the whole office was. There were maybe two white women, no brown or Black faces and everyone there were of a certain 'type,' the type that go to Starbucks and order Fairtrade organic lattes, wear distressed jeans, spent a year in Africa working for a charity, are vegetarians, want to live in Brixton but send their children to private school and buy modern art. I felt so out of place there (I'm not a vegetarian and Africa to me is a reality, not a facilitator of my yearnings to be a good person) and it must have affected my performance because I didn't get the job.

I don't wish to play the race card, in fact I hate it when people play the race card, but I'm afraid that after returning from Nigeria - where I felt so good about being me; so wanted, celebrated even, for being me; where I rubbed shoulders with the movers and shakers of society and met and worked with important people, where all that I am was cradled and nurtured and upheld as wonderful (I could also spell better and type faster than most people out there too, I felt like a superhero) - the British job market has being a slight shock to the system. I started to question my abilities. Maybe I'm not as good as I thought. Or maybe I am and they just refuse to see it and give me a chance because I am Black.

Race relations in the UK is miles better than what it is in other non-African countries of course, and there are vast swathes of England where your colour doesn't affect you negatively, and I can honestly say that apart from two instances when I was in my late teens where I'd visited a majority-white part of Surrey and some silly young men shouted racial slurs at me, one from a high rise building and the other from a moving car (I still think maybe I heard them wrong), I have never faced any overt racism in England in my life.

Sure there are instances when I felt I should have positively gotten that job because I was so right for it, and when I didn't I was convinced it's cos I was Black and didn't pass the 'Can I hang out comfortably with her down the pub after work' test by my would-be employers. But on the whole, I never thought being Black held me back until I finished a Masters degree and still couldn't get a nice journalism job (the kind that came with a business card). Then I went to Nigeria and finally tasted success, then returned to England again and saw that such success is hardly enjoyed by people that look like me, and the Blacks that are successful here are of a certain type too. Damn, I wish I'd gone to Oxford. I had the grades for it, but I didn't pursue it because I thought I'd feel out of place there. It's my biggest regret in life.

My children MUST go to Oxford or Cambridge. It's like the only thing that can guarantee your success if you're Black in the UK.

So I long for Nigeria because I feel ignored and not up to par in England, and having to go from Editor to Office Administrator has been oh so depressing. I feel like shouting out: "Don't you know who I am? I used to chair weekly Editorial meetings you know! I have a Masters' Degree for Christ's sake!"

I work in central London surrounded by huge beautiful office buildings made of glass, and I envy the immaculately dressed ladies in their heels and skirt suits that call such buildings 'My Office,' whilst I wear flats and my colleagues will look at me in wonder if I dressed in a suit. I also noticed that the Black people I see in this part of town are almost always shabbily dressed in jeans and trainers; the Black/minority ethnic service class that serve the white business class.

My Future London office: Amen

Sure I can work my way to the top, but how long will that take? And can I ever achieve the career highs in London that I enjoyed in Abuja? Will a qualified Black woman under 30 ever be the sub-editor of a British national newspaper? I doubt it. Not only are the requirements more stringent in England (the standards are admittedly lower in Nigeria, although this should not detract from my suitability), but there is always a white person that the employer feels will be 'more suited' to the role, or who has the right look or better education or upbringing or experience or looks like the employer's nephew or uncle.

I guess I shouldn't blame them though, like employs like. The subtle and overt tribalism in Nigeria is similar to the subtle and overt racism is in England. But rather than work hard to break the Black ceiling, I just want to return to a country that likes me as I am. A country that will gladly take me back.

I also miss the freedom of being in Nigeria. I don't feel as constrained there. Here if you step out of line even a little bit, even innocently, like for instance parking in the wrong place by accident, you get into trouble straight away, no second chances. In Nigeria things are more laid back, more casual. You can smile your way out of trouble, and rules that hurt no one can be bent (I know Nigeria takes this philosophy way too far though.)

In Nigeria, in a land where anything goes, I felt emboldened to LIVE. Life was for the taking, and if you can get it, it's yours. You could go from zero to millionaire in a matter of days, and the rewards for good work knows no bounds. Generosity of wealth and spirit abound, and you could start a business tomorrow that will make you money immediately, no lengthy paperwork and licenses needed.

In England things are more prescribed and limited. No sudden moves. It's a stay in your lane, paycheck to paycheck lifestyle, and as winter approaches, a grey cloud seems to descend on everyone and we all stay deep in our daily routines; everyone in big black coats under grey skies, all living for the weekend or the next holiday abroad to somewhere sunny.

I also felt thoroughly invested in Nigeria. I felt that I was part of the narrative. I complained with everyone about everything, but deep down it felt good to have ownership over the woes of the nation. Nigeria still being problematic after 54 years of Independence was my problem too, and I wanted to make it better. I had a voice that sounded like everyone else's. Nigeria was mine for the loving, hating, liking. But in England, sometimes I feel detached from the primary concerns of most of its citizens, and other times I am actively opposed to the popular opinion.

The British love cats and dogs and there are several TV programmes and charities dedicated to their welfare, but I care not a jot for pets. Homosexuality is also now normal here, when I left England in 2011 I don't recall homosexual couples being on home improvement, antique hunts and other mundane aspects of British TV, but now every other couple on TV seems to be gay! Then there is the national preoccupation with cancer. Every where you go one organisation or another is trying to fight and beat cancer, but I don't want this disease shoved down my throat every day. Yes it affects many people, but do let's stop going on about it.

Then there's the average British person's love of a good moan. They moan about everything here, and their hate for politicians is so uncalled for, especially when British politicians are actively working hard in their jobs and are genuine public servants, and the minute they do something wrong they're out (did you hear about the journalist who faked a Twitter account to seduce an MP, and when he fell for it and sent back pictures of himself in pyjamas, the MP had to resign?). They should all try living in Nigeria for a week, they'll run back and hug all their MPs. Those on benefits moan that the council won't give them a bigger house, can you imagine? In Nigeria if your local House of Rep member gives you a bag of rice in his bid to get re-elected, you rejoice, here they are bitterly complaining that the free house and free money the government gives them is not enough.

In Nigeria, despite the harsh, unfair circumstances, Nigerians have the best sense of humour about it all. They insult and rain down curses on their leaders, but their patriotism is alive and well. They get up and get on with it, they hustle and they make life work for them. They have terrible habits some of them, but no one sits and complains and expects the government to help them lose weight or stop smoking or give them contentment, cos they know that's not happening.

I also like that Nigerians are on average religious-minded and traditionally inclined; they value marriage, respect, morals and propriety. Even though many sins occur behind closed doors, they are eager to portray a respectable facade. But in England, tradition is receding and nothing is sacred anymore. Anything goes in the name of post-modernity, and my traditionally-minded self cannot hack it.

So there are many aspects of British life that I feel is alien to my experience. Whearas in Nigeria, I felt plugged into every social issue and felt as strongly about certain things that ordinary Nigerians did. I could (and very nearly did) join protests in Nigeria about various issues, but I can't see myself protesting about anything in England.

I visit Nigerian blogs every day and follow many Nigerians on Twitter- I'm avidly keeping abreast of Nigerian news and views because it's more alive to me.

Does that mean I'm not British enough? I guess I fit into my 'Nigerian coat' better than I fit into my 'British coat,' but the irony is that in Nigeria I am more British than Nigerian to everyone else, and in England I'm Black British and that's OK, but it also means I find more people like me on the lower echelons of society than at the top, which is where I want to be.

Could this be a case of the grass being always greener on the other side? Human nature is a funny thing: a few months ago I couldn't wait to leave Abuja, now I'm yearning after the very thing I ran from. Don't get me wrong, England is a fabulous country and I'm lucky to be able to enjoy its many privileges, the NHS being number one. If I could take the NHS with me I would relocate to Nigeria tomorrow.

I guess I want to have my cake and eat it too. I want to to succeed, but in a safe country.

So I'm torn you guys. One minute I want to stay in England and make it work because it will be so worth it in the end, then the next I want to run back to Nigeria so I can feel alive and be called 'Madam' again. Then I think of falling sick in Abuja or of Boko Haram and I thank God I'm back in England. Sigh.

Exposed: Inside a Nigerian Newspaper

A big part of my life in Nigeria for the last two years has been my job, up until last month that is, when I was forced to leave. But my time there has not only given me a close-up view of how a media organisation in Nigeria works, but also exposed to me the huge professional inadequacies and systematic disdain for quality and excellence inherent in many of this country’s institutions. Let me explain.

I worked in the pull-out section of a newspaper, but the entire time I was there not a single issue was ever published, even though four editions were designed, interviews undertaken, research completed and everything was good to go in soft-copy format, but it never reached production.

So for the most part there was nothing to do. My colleagues and I filled our days surfing the net, ‘gisting’ and generally loafing about, our cynicism growing each time management announced a production date for the magazine which came and went with no result.

I was often poached from the inertia of my official department to help out on other titles in the company, and whilst moonlighting as a sub-editor for the dailies, it suddenly hit me: nobody in this whole newspaper company can write!

I edited pages and pages of news and features and interviews and read a fair bit of the newspaper myself, and never saw one piece of writing that had any flair, fluency or fluidity. I gave up trying to rewrite news pieces and features; after all they were supposed to be written by professional journalists working for a national newspaper, yet 99% of the raw copies I received were clunky and misshapen, lacking in proper sentence structure in which grammar and spelling mistakes abound, and this in the age of spell check.

Almost every interview published in the paper used the question and answer style, which is the most elementary way of interview writing discouraged internationally as being lazy and uncreative. I also became familiar with many Nigerianisms: words and sentences that were acceptable in Nigeria but not internationally, like ‘severally’ or ‘put to bed (when a woman has a baby),’ ‘taking a turn for the worst,’ ‘resumed his new job,’ ‘Nigeria Police Association’ (If you don’t see anything wrong with these then you’re probably Nigerian.) I was soon able to tell, from reading just a couple of lines of anything, whether it was written by a Nigerian or not.

I often wondered: Did the readers notice the inadequacies? My teenage sister in England, who is an avid reader, writes better than many of the journalists whose work I had to edit. It was painful. I often looked up from the piece I was trying to render legible and wondered if I could do this for years on end. It would drive me insane.

I understand that Nigerians are often multi-lingual so English is not their primary or singular concern, but I expected a national newspaper of high standing to at least recruit the best. Not everyone in England can write well I can assure you, but in order to be employed in an established newspaper, you at least have to be better than the general population at constructing a sentence, and you are expected to have been trained up to degree level with lots of writing experience before you are given the job of informing the nation every day.

None of the journalists (and it is with regret that I have to use that word to describe them) were natural writers, I believe most got the job through a friend or relative or through luck and thought “Yeah, I think I can do this,” or maybe they fell into the job or dreamt of writing but really shouldn't. Sure some did Mass Communication degrees, which made me wonder at the quality of teaching at university level. If graduates had such woeful writing, what of the non-graduates? My parents' generation enjoyed some of the best education in Nigeria that was on par with teaching institutions globally, but it seems all that has changed.

But I don’t blame the writers, heck everyone’s looking for work these days. If an oil drilling company accepts a pregnant woman to start work tomorrow, whose fault is it?

I longed for quality writing amongst the pile of pain I dealt with daily like a camel longs for water in the desert. I happened upon a well written piece I could actually read through without wincing once or twice a fortnight, but alas, they were written by guest writers (educated abroad no doubt) not staff.

So now add conspiracy to boredom and bad writing and you’ll have the story of my two years at __________ . It was like the plot to a bad movie: I was promoted to the Editor of the magazine, but a colleague did all in her power to remove me from the position so that she could occupy it. She couldn't write, had no journalism training and didn't even study media at degree level, but being qualified for the job is superfluous in Nigeria, just shout the loudest and stroke the biggest ego and you’ll get whatever you want. Granted I’d reported this lady to management after N100, 000 in her care went ‘missing,’ but although she was neither punished nor chastised, I guess I overstepped the mark.

So I was unceremoniously deposed, but still decided to stay on as sub-editor, until another woman in management took a dislike to me. I call it women issues. Here I was, all British and qualified and popular and young and fast-rising, coming to impose myself on the territories others had marked out as theirs. So I became the enemy. Then after my salary was stopped without warning, my computer and desk vanished, and the cold, spiteful exchanges between myself and others ensued, I ran away.

In a British workplace, when someone doesn't like you the worse they can do is get you fired. In Nigeria they could also employ jazz and get you killed. Oh yes, I’d heard of such things happening. You may call it paranoia, but after one threat too many I ran for my life.

I take away from my time working at the paper some good friends and a valuable experience, although I wouldn’t wish it on any other non-Nigerian entering the Nigerian work-place for the first time. My British friend, who I’d met during our Masters degree after which we both decided to leave England and ‘make it in Africa,’ now works for an NGO in Ghana where she’s paid in Euros. I’d stayed with her in Ghana before coming to Nigeria and whilst she now works in a company with international standards and international colleagues which she loves, I was brave and perhaps foolish to go straight into working for a Nigerian company, without the comfort of an International NGO work experience beforehand to cushion my landing.

It has been a rude awakening and I made lots of mistakes, said the wrong things, and tried to implement British practices into a place that was unreceptive and even resentful of excellence.In the end the system found a way to expel me, as I believe it expels anything that would disrupt the dysfunctional status quo.

My colleagues told me the secret to success in the Nigerian workplace: turn up to work, do as little as possible, say nothing in the face of injustice and collect your salary at the end of the month*. They tried to warn me, bless them, but I was too full of idealism and the righteousness of my cause: “But this is wrong!” I would say. They would reply “We know, but just do it anyway. That’s the way it’s done here.” Everything in me rebelled against such a misshapen system; I was used to better and wanted better.

I feel like a different person today compared to the person I was when I first began work for the company in 2011. If I had to do it all again I would assert myself more and speak less in certain situations, but all in all I believe everything happens for a reason and I am proud to say that despite many pressures, I never compromised my morals or changed my personality in order to succeed. I stayed true to myself, which demands such strength of character that this experience has shown me I possess.



*This particular paper actually did well by paying its staff regularly, as other media companies don’t pay their staff for months on end.

I'm Back in Love With Chimamanda Adichie Again

Permit me this double-mindedness dear reader.

I know I first espoused my absolute adoration of Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie in  "Chimamanda Adichie, Natural Hair and Me", and she was number one in my list of "6 Nigerians that Make Me Proud", but then I spoke about my disappointment in some of her words and actions in "How Adichie Fell of Her Pedestal".

I declared that to me she was no longer this wonderful being; she had fallen off her pedestal and I now saw that my hero-worship of her was flawed and ultimately doomed to failure because she was human and imperfect.

I'm in love with Chimamanda again

But I've changed my mind. Adichie is brilliant and I cannot lie. She really is. I never totally denied her genius, but I was (temporarily) turned off by the harshness I noticed and her lack of warmth towards fans, as well as her sense of superiority. But I've since been able to reacquaint myself with her poise and wisdom through consuming some of her interviews and speeches, and I have changed my mind.

But was it she that changed? Was she always this fountain of witty, thrilling anecdotes that illustrate her points so succinctly? Was she always this playfully intelligent, erudite and clear-minded sage that never over-did her power to enchant listeners, was often endearingly shy, with her voice sometimes quivering (nerves?); was she always such a delight to listen to?

Or did she sense that she was tipping over the edge in terms of believing the hype and becoming egotistical, and decided to backtrack, repent and transform into this luminous, graceful woman that has audiences rapt in attention?

Was it that I knew she was this impressive and true but that that reality was usurped by the furore surrounding her 'mailbox interview' and calling a fellow Nigerian writer one of her 'boys'?

Well, although I wouldn't go as far to say I regret ever seeing her in a bad light - because when I wrote about her falling off the pedestal of my mind I meant it, and was very sad about it - but I have now been re-awakened to the beauty of her intelligence. I let small slights overshadow the beautiful thoughts this woman continues to pour out, and it is a privilege to be alive when she is 'in vogue.'

Her Interviews in Nigeria vs Her Interviews in England or America

It strikes me as interesting that the interviews she does that many including myself find displeasing are those she does with Nigerian interviewers. The interview where she angrily chided the interviewer for calling her 'Mrs' and declaring that she does not want that title (despite being married) happened in Nigeria. I think she has less patience with Nigerian interviewers- as if they rub her up the wrong way, and she often comes off as a snooty, humourless 'feminist' in all the terrible connotations of the word that scare Nigerian men and traditional women.

However, she is very accommodating, genuine, warm, bright, candid, full of humour and laughter and ever so generous with her informed opinion with British and American interviewers. And they are completely enchanted by her. Her articles are widely published in The Guardian newspaper, and Channel 4 News love her.

Adichie discussing her latest book Americanah on Channel 4 News with Jon Snow

Channel 4's lead anchor, Jon Snow (who I love by the way. And he's married to a fully African woman, a brilliant intellectual type named Precious Lunga from Zimbabwe. Jon Snow is also very progressive, I just love the man) particular seems to be taken by her, and I don't mean in a silly, British-paternalistic-fawning-kindness-to-Africans-out-of-some-misplaced-guilt-over-colonialism way, but in a respectful "I like that you are intelligent and African and a Nigerian and a woman, so please shed some light on Boko Haram. Your type of voice is so rare and so needed right now" way.

My favourite Channel 4 News lead anchor Jon Snow and his wife Precious Lunga

He truly engages with her in these interviews and I love that she repays his trust in her capabilities with searingly acute dissections of Nigerian politics that retains her patriotism but pulls no punches.

I think I'm starting to see Chimamanda not only in a different light, but in broader aspect. Sometimes she has bad days and sometimes she has great days. She is of course always poised, but in some interviews she is more 'switched on' and happy than in others.

Take this interview with Lola Ogunnaike for Arise Entertainment 360 for instance. Her body language is closed (crossed legs, crossed arms and she taps her fingers often, a sign of impatience or nerves), she seems uncomfortable and lacks a certain joie de vivre she often has, although she is gracious in her answers.

Ogunnaike (whose regal tone and confident cadences makes me swoon with admiration; she reminds me of the elegant Ivanka Trump) does overdo the fawning and lashes on the acclaim, and I could see Adichie cringing under the layers of superlatives bestowed upon her; at one point Ogunnaike asks: "What does it feel like to be a literary rock star?"

Compare it to this interview below with Damian Woetzel, where she is much more lively, fierce in wit and delivery and brimming with humour, masterfully engaging and real in relaying her profound feelings of identity, Africa and other subjects; I could listen to her forever. (It's also funny how she sits where the interviewer is supposed to sit by mistake, and I like that the man is gracious enough to allow her, without insisting that they swap.)

Adichie's interview with Damian Woetzel is tremendously entertaining

The interview is particularly wonderful, and! Somehow, she manages to mention Fulani and Fulfude! The last question from an audience member was from a Fulani woman from Guinea, and when Adichie asks her "Do you speak Fulfude?" I was like wow.

Biafra, Feminism and Homosexuality

Adichie is also very brave. She has not only wrote and spoken extensively about the Biafran War, an incident Nigeria wants to forget (the film based on her book Half of a Yellow Sun which tackles the war has been banned from screens in Nigeria), she also focused one of her TED Talks on Feminism (below) and wrote a lengthy piece describing the injustice of Nigeria's anti-gay laws.

Biafra, Feminism and Homosexuality: You couldn't find three more controversial, incendiary, polarizing and hot-button issues in Nigeria today, and she skewered them all effortlessly. You may or may not agree with her, but you cannot deny that she addressed all the points and presented her case well. She is fearless, and exemplifies this famous quote by Marianne Williamson:

We are all meant to shine, as children do
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us
And as we let our own light shine,
We unconsciously give others permission to do the same.

The clarity of her thoughts, fierceness of her convictions and power of her delivery gives me the freedom to be bold.

My initial reaction to her feminist talk was to disagree, because contrary to the norm (educated, first-generation British-African woman born in the 80s tend to be quite the feminist) I'm a traditionalist and my post titled "I'm a Submissive Woman, What's Wrong With That?" explains my stance.

But I listened to it again and found myself nodding to and agreeing with everything she said. There was no need to insult or demean men to gain our rights, she was saying, but a Nigerian woman (she concentrated her observations on Nigerian culture, much to the delight of the Nigerians in the audience who clapped and laughed generously at her often very funny observations) shouldn't have to shrink from success to enable a man to feel good.

Adichie's is the best modern, globally-sound Nigerian voice we have right now.

I used to imagine the things the great boxer Mohammed Ali would say today if he could talk. The man that was so vocal about race, politics, religion and his own greatness in the past I imagined would have a lot to say about Obama and various aspects of African-American culture today. What a shame that he is unable to inspire our generation with his words, and how cruelly ironic too, that he has had to live his final years voiceless, when he was once celebrated for his exuberant oratory.

Well, Chimamanda Adichie is someone who is using her strong voice to stoke the flames of intellectual debate about the most important issues of our time, and I have fallen in love with her all over again.

Defending Free Speech: My Reaction to #JeSuisCharlie

As a journalist, I am appalled, horrified and disgusted by the murders of French journalists and cartoonists of Charlie Hebdo magazine on Wednesday January 7th 2015 by Islamic extremists because they dared to draw unsavoury cartoons of the Prophet Muhammad. But I am also saddened at the fact that these continuing terrorist attacks in the West are turning people off ALL religions, not just Islam.

This image and the hashtag #JeSuisCharlie trended worldwide on Twitter in solidarity with Charlie Hebdo Magazine

I take pride in being free to write what I want when I want, especially on this blog, and although I have strong views, I am pleased and energised when readers comment with equally strong views in disagreement. I believe it is a sign of intelligence and tolerance to be able to disagree vehemently with someone on any given subject no matter how important, and still have the decency to be polite and calm and charitable to them when need be.

There is a distinction between disagreement and discrimination; it's a fine line and a slippery slope, but I believe it is possible to tow it. I may disagree with Islam or homosexuality but like Volitaire said, I will defend to the death the rights of those within it to live it and be it. Absolutely so. I cannot hit them over the head - so to speak - with my Bible. They don't believe in it like I do, so why judge them on its laws?

So I shake my head at them, produce eloquent arguments against their way of life and maintain my belief that what they are is not God's best intention for them, but as human beings they are just as worthy of life and love and happiness as I am, and I will never stand in the way of their success. That would be crossing the line. So it brought tears to my eyes when the news broke that people had died because they decided to parody the Prophet Muhammad.

Satirists have been ridiculing Jesus for years, but I personally don't see the harm in it. Some of it is offensive yes, but I have the right to be offended and they have the right to have their opinions. I don't expect people that haven't engaged with Christian truths to understand it, so when they grapple with the beliefs I hold dear, part of me is kinda glad.

It's good when 'secular people' engage with my faith, turning it around in their hands, poking it, breaking it apart and spilling out its absurdities for humour. If it brings its values to diverse audiences, this is a good thing, and I'd rather people laugh at Christianity than ignore it completely.

Remember when people ridiculed former American President George W. Bush? Well now nobody does, because he is no longer important or powerful or relevant. So if Jesus shows up on the popular animated series South Park as a wacky TV show host in slippers and a gown, I laugh when it's funny and squirm when it's not, but I'm glad I'm watching a depiction of my saviour along with millions of other people.

Because unlike in the past, kids today don't go to Sunday school as a norm and religion is not part of their every day lives. So I appreciate shows like South Park or The Simpsons which pay homage to Christianity, no matter how crude, because I'm afraid that in 50 years time, show producers won't even know who Jesus is to mock him.

So defending a man that died centuries ago by killing men that draw cartoons about him is absolute lunacy.

But not only have the terrorists brought shame on their religion once again, but increasingly all faiths are being denigrated by people who believe themselves to be free from the constraints of organised religion.

They think we're all crazy.

I respect those that can live in the real world and acknowledge the existence of something greater than themselves, but many don't, and religious attacks like the one on Charlie Hebdo adds to the growing mainstream belief that all religions should be assigned to the waste basket of history and all 'God-botherers' should be dragged kicking and screaming into the modern world where an ancient book doesn't dictate their actions.

And no matter how much I try to draw a distinction between Christianity and Islam (like I did on my post titled Why I'm Glad I Am No Longer a Muslim), many still say to me "Nah, all religion is based on medieval mindsets not compatible with modern life. All religion is bad." That pisses me off, especially because I think that Christianity and Islam are as different as night and day.

However, such attacks make me think that the battle is sometimes between those with a faith and those without, rather than between Christians and Muslims. I was often cynical about shows of unity by Imams, Priests and Rabbis coming together to condemn or celebrate one religious news item or another, because I think that one of those three religions cannot join the others to speak of peace until they get their house in order.

But I believe it is more honourable to believe in something than to believe in nothing and be wafted here and there by any breeze that blows, without an anchor or an allegiance to something you're willing to die for.

So to that end, I have more in common with a Muslim than with a person of no faith.

And I feel increasingly sorry for the normal, everyday Muslims in the West; immigrants that moved to non-Muslim countries to work and live and become citizens; men and women who appreciate England and whose children have grown up here; and young Mohammeds and Safiyas who are as British as the Michaels and Kellys around them and who are just as appalled at the killings by those who share their religion.

I feel sorry for second and third generation Muslim immigrants who are somewhat confused about how to live in a world that is increasingly seeing them as the enemy, but they still continue to be devout in their faith, and even those who came from Muslim homes but wear the religion lightly and drink and smoke with the best of them.

I remember when I used to silently pray that the news about a murder or armed robbery didn't involve Black men, and breathing a sigh of relief when it didn't and wincing when it did. I'm sure many in the Black community are quietly relieved that the racism and condemnation we often faced from the mainstream has found a new target. I bet many Muslims, upon hearing about a shooting or other public violence, always pray it doesn't link back to their religion.

I'm also getting 'Outrage Fatigue;' I'm tired of criticising Islam and feeling religiously superior after yet another terrorist attack, because these attacks are gradually changing the world for the worse and in ways we won't begin to identify for years to come.

There are no winners when we are all suffering its effects.

I still believe people like the Charlie Hebdo gunmen Cherif and Said Kouachi are as Muslim as they say they are, and they actually believe that they were avenging Prophet Muhammad, but they also revealed themselves to be nothing but common criminals when they robbed a gas station at gunpoint and stole food and drinks hours after their 'holy crusade.' I mean, does Allah condone armed robbery, even if He seems to condone murder in his defence?

In a fight between Gods and mortals or Prophets and Cartoonists, I'd put my money on the Gods and Prophets winning, so they don't need defending. The supernatural can surely handle media mockery without losing its potency to those that care right?

So today I stand with every person who is standing in defence of free speech. It is imperative that those with a voice don't cower in fear. Charlie Hebdo magazine lampooned all institutions; from Christianity to Feminism and Politics, so why should Islam be omitted? All believers think their religion should be respected, so why should Islam be treated with kid gloves?

To all journalists and writers brave enough to say what they want because they truly believe it, people have died to safeguard the freedoms we enjoy today, and long may we continue to enjoy them. Be fearless with your words because the pen IS mightier than the sword.

And to moderate Muslims everywhere, although I continue to firmly disagree with your religion and believe that there is something inherently faulty with it because of the way it brings out the violence in men in ways no other religion does, I will fight to the death for your right to practice it in peace, for your right to live in safety with your neighbours, and for your right to pursue your happiness the same way I can.

That is what freedom is all about.

#JeSuisCharlie

Interview with British Fulani Author Munir Bello

Finding out that the author of The Break Up Recipe, Munir Bello is a British Fulani-Nigerian piqued my curiosity immensely. 

Munir Bello, Author of The Break Up Recipe

Sure, his self-published e-book about relationships is hilarious and received rave reviews from publications like The Voice and Female First, and reviews here and here were also glowing, but what I really wanted to know was: what did his parents think about him stripping naked to promote the book (yes, that's his well-oiled physique below)? 

And was his ex-fiancée - the woman that inspired him to write after she broke up with him - Black, Nigerian, Fulani or none of the above? 

Munir strips totally naked to promote The Break Up Recipe. As you do.

Munir also said that he attended a Gay Pride parade to hand out flyers promoting his book, and is happy to attract a gay audience thanks to his hot bod on display. This 30-year old Fulani man's outlook on life is definitely refreshing, so I asked him a whole load of questions, and bless him, he not only answered all 50 (I was very curious) with great candour and humour, he also gave me an insight into how another Fulani Brit thinks. Thanks Munir!

BIOGRAPHY

Where were you born?
I was born in Lagos, Nigeria in 1983

Where were you raised?
I was raised in Lagos where I went to school until the age of 10 and travelled around Kaduna, Sokoto, Kano and Abuja where I have family. I then moved to England at the age of 10 to school and have permanently lived here since. I used to go back to Nigeria quite regularly during the school holidays, but less frequently now as my immediate family now live in London.

Describe your family.
Like most I am the product of a mother and father. They live in London. My father is a consultant and my mother runs a small business. I have 3 siblings; the oldest is a lawyer,  my younger sister works in sales and my younger brother is a radio presenter.

What is your current occupation?

I am an author. I wrote a book called The Break Up recipe. I am also currently in the process of writing the sequel for the book as well as filming a dating show in London which will be airing in the summer.

What is your family's religion and what is your personal religious belief?

I was born into a Muslim family and I am a part-time Muslim. By that I mean that I do consider myself a Muslim, however I am not fully practising. I fast during Ramadan.

What career did you want to go into when you were younger?

I originally wanted to either be an actor or a journalist. I realised early on that I was not good enough to be an actor so decided to concentrate on something else. As for journalism, it was something that as I got older, I had less of a desire to do.

BEING NIGERIAN
What is your relationship with Sokoto/Zamfara?
My paternal grandmother lives in a small village in the state and so do some of my uncles, aunties and cousins. I very much do consider it my home and generally when I am asked where I am from I tell people that I am a Nigerian from Sokoto (It has been pointed out to me that it is now Zamfara, but when I was growing up it was Sokoto and that has now stuck in my vocabulary)

What is your relationship with Nigeria?
Nigeria is the country that I am from. Although I am a dual passport holder and have lived most of my life in The UK, I consider myself a Nigerian as my earliest memories are from there. I speak Hausa at home to my family which serves as a reminder to my roots.

Do you have any extended family in Nigeria, and if so, are you still close to them? 

I have plenty of extended family in Nigeria as I come from a very large family, and I am close to them. We communicate regularly online.

What is your view on Boko Haram?

My view on Boko Haram is that it is an organisation that has put our country in the news for all the wrong reasons. I am certainly not in any way a sympathiser.

What is your view on the Bring Back Our Girls campaign and it's popularity around the world?

I am glad that the world is sitting up and taking notice by trying to help us eradicate the problem with the violent attacks. I am sad, however, that the name of my country is seen as synonymous with terrorism which unfortunately is one of the first words that come out of people's mouths now [when they thing about Nigeria]. The campaign hopefully sends out a strong message of support to the families of these girls and I hope that in the end it helps bring them home. I also hope that it isn't just a social media fad that will lead to a swift evacuation if it becomes considered as old news.

What is your view of the Nigerian government?

My view on Nigerian politics is extremely limited as I don't keep up to date with the current affairs. From what I know, we have a president who seems powerless in the face of everything and we have a first lady who delivers many excellent sound-bites that bring a huge smile to my face. In fact, my neighbour and I have been watching lots of her Youtube clips recently. Interesting is a word that springs to mind.

Would you ever return to Nigeria to live long-term?

'I don't know' is the honest answer to that question. The reason is because two thirds of my life have been lived in the UK so I am more used to the way things work over here. I wouldn't rule out living in Nigeria for long periods of time over the course of a year in the future, as when I have children I would like them to know where their father comes from.

Would you want your kids to be strongly connected to Nigeria?
I absolutely would because I have so many wonderful memories from when I was living there. As mentioned previously, I'd like them to know where their father comes from as there is a strong likelihood that they would be raised in the UK.

Are you proud to be Nigerian, given often negative perceptions of the country?

I'm very proud to be a Nigerian because there are values within our people that are very commendable, such as a strong work ethic and an entrepreneurial streak that is unrivalled. We also are very good at adapting and some of the hardest working people I have ever known are from Nigeria. The negative perceptions which are well publicised are to do with fraud, corruption and most recently, bomb attacks. The positives greatly outweigh the negatives. We have the biggest GDP in Africa and some amazing scholars.

Munir Bello: Proudly Nigerian, proudly British and proudly Fulani

What do your non-Nigerian friends thing about the country?

Generally speaking a lot of them would like to visit the country mostly due to the great PR the food receives over here. I do tend to introduce them to some of our foods. The weather also means that it is a natural draw for non-Nigerian friends of mine who spend a lot of their time in cold climates. The lifestyle and pace of life over there also makes it appealing to friends of mine who have visited the country.

BEING FULANI 

What does being Fulani mean to you?

I live with the knowledge that being Fulani, I am part of what was the old ruling class and am sometimes unfairly judged as the son of a rich man who knows nothing about a hard life or hard work which couldn't be further from the truth. At the same time however, it is a fact that we are the best looking people in Nigeria and yes I am being biased on my beautiful family members. Our people are traditionally nomads, hence why it was a seamless transition for me to move to another country.

Do you think being Fulani differentiates you from other Nigerians? If so why?
The differentiation has been touched on in the previous question. It is more apparent in the UK than back home because there aren't many of us here. The majority of Nigerians present here tend to be Igbo or Yoruba.

Would you say you were knowledgeable about Fulani customs and traditions? 
I'm ashamed to say that I am not knowledgeable enough to have a debate about Fulani customs. I know small bits from my time over in Nigerian and from what my parents have tried to teach. Fura da nono is one tradition I am fully fluent in.

Are you proud of your Fulani heritage? 

Without a shadow of a doubt, yes I am.

What aspects of Fulani culture do you most identify with?

Being a nomad.

What are your thoughts on Fulani nomads and their lifestyle?

Very admirable. I have a lot of respect for the discipline it takes to be a cattle herder, which is underrated.

What are your thoughts on the spate of Fulani gunmen that allegedly shoot down many villages in the North?

It is not a subject that I am familiar with but my thoughts on any gunman that would shoot down a village of people is that he is a coward.

How do your family honour your Fulani heritage, if at all?

They've instilled in me not to forget where I come from and always make a point of reminding me that I come from a people I should be proud of which I am.

Do you speak Fulfude?

Sadly not.

Do you know/have met Fulanis from across Africa, and how did you get on?

I met a Fulani from Sierra Leone 16 years ago and we are friends to this day.

What do you think about me: a British Fulani Christian?

I think you're normal, there are lots of people who come from a predominantly Muslim community who are Christians. I come from a heavily inter-married family so although my parents are Muslim, my uncles and aunties are a mixture of different religions. Also my grandmother on my mothers side taught me the Bible and the Quran from a very early age.

BEING BRITISH
What do your British friends think about your Fulani heritage?
They don't know anything about the Fulani.

Have you met many Fulani people in England? If not why do you think you haven't? 

I have only met one from Sierra Leone. I think the reason for the scarcity of a Fulani presence here is because Fulanis either stay in Nigeria or go to America and other parts of Europe.

Does being a Fulani man affect or influence any aspect of your life in England?

None whatsoever.

In some of the interviews for your book, you mention going out to drink with friends and writing when drunk, and you also pose naked with a cover of your book. How do you reconcile your 'Western' behaviour with a (presumably) conservative Fulani heritage?

I'm a product of a Nigerian upbringing in the first third of my life and a western upbringing the rest of it, meaning that the two cultures meet somewhere in the middle and compromise. The picture for the marketing cover was originally met with some resistance by my parents but not outright opposition, the rest of my family have never commented negatively on it.

What's more important to you: being British, being Nigerian or being a Fulani man? 
In order would be 1) Nigerian, as it is where I was born, 2) Fulani as it is my heritage and where I'm from (it's not 1 because of my minuscule knowledge) 3) Being British because it is a nationality I inherited but one that I am nevertheless very proud of.

Does your heritage affect your dating choices or choice of who you will marry?

No not at all; my girlfriend is British and it's not a problem for my family. 

What do your family think of your lifestyle?

Good question. I've never really asked them. I think overall they're happy with it as I've never been taken aside by them and told I need to change my ways.

Whenever you return to family in Nigeria, do you feel assimilated or different from them?

I feel assimilated, the only difference would be my accent but i still remember the customs and the correct way to eat the food.

Are you happy you're in England or do you wish you had stayed in Nigeria?

I'm very happy I'm in England. Had I stayed in Nigeria then I wouldn't have gotten to see as much of the world (cheaper to travel form here) as I have or met the many wonderful people that I have met. All the good people I met back home are either now here or if they are back home we are still in touch. Three letters were worth the move over here: KFC!!

What do you think are commonly-held misconceptions people abroad have about Fulani people?That we are a bunch of uneducated in-breds. Not many people realise what the generation before us did which was that they left the country to get first class education and helped pioneer many things back home.

Would you say you play up or play down your Fulaniness? 

Neither really, it's something I'm proud of but as I don't get asked much about it, I rarely get the opportunity to elaborate on it.

Has your name, because it is Muslim, ever posed any issues for you? 

Oh yes!! Most airports I go to will pull me aside for extra questioning due to "computer generated" reasons. It's the last thing that I need after a long flight but I tend to ignore their stupidity rather than get angry about it.

How do you feel about your Islamic background in a country where Islam is often associated with global terrorism?

I don't hide my Islamic background and so far I've never had any problems because of it. I think I have been very lucky in that respect. I get more irritated by other Muslims from other countries who, once they find out my Islamic background, try to test how much I know, almost as if I need their approval. I find it very pathetic. Muslim converts also tend to do this a lot.

Do you feel completely assimilated into English life or do you feel like an outsider sometimes?

I am an outsider because outside of a major city I am considered a minority. I don't feel alienated, but I am aware that I am not considered as the norm in some quarters, but then that is very normal because if a white person rocked up into Lagos they would be seen as an outsider also. It's never hostile on either side however.

HIS BOOK
Describe what The Break Up Recipe is about.

The Break Up Recipe is a romantic comedy from the point of view of a man. it contains some funny observations on life and some expletive language. To sum it up, a guy gets dumped by his fiancee and then looks back on his previous encounters with the opposite sex. He comes back to the modern day and creates new experiences with the opposite sex.

What do your family think about your book?

They like it. They have been incredibly supportive throughout. They did initially harbour reservations over the language and the naked image, but were never hostile about it.

You state that you were inspired to write it after a bad break-up with a fiancée; where was she from/what race was she?

Bloody hell you really have done your research! I was wondering when that question was going to come up haha. She was a white British girl.

Did her race pose any problems for you?
Absolutely none. As pointed out earlier, due to the regular intermarriage within my own family, dating outside my race/religion has never been an issue. Come to think of it, it's very acceptable as it's never even been mentioned or alluded to when I've told my parents about someone I'm dating.

Does your Fulani heritage show up anywhere in The Break Up Recipe?

No there isn't any mention of my Fulani heritage in the book.

Do you think the book would have succeeded had it being published in Nigeria?

Time will tell, there is definitely a huge audience in Nigeria that would appreciate it. however due to limited accessibility (It was originally released as an e-Book) it's too soon to say. Now that it has been released as a paperback, we will see. In fact today was the official release day of the book as a hard copy.

What do you think of other Nigerian novelists like Chimamanda Adichie et al?

She is a wonderful author and a great ambassador for our country. I love her books and think that she paints a wonderful picture of our country through words.

Much of the reviews I read didn't focus on your race/nationality, why do you think that is?

The reason for that would be because they were reviewing the book rather than the author, but in some interviews it is something that is referred to. The book isn't set in Nigeria and it has no race references, hence why no reviews would mention it. My bio however states my nationality and my pictures kind of give away my race, especially my marketing picture.

What would you do if the follow up to The Break Up Recipe gets on the New York Times best-seller list?

What I always do when something good happens to me: I'd say a silent thank you to God first, after that I'd probably go on a holiday and enjoy a well deserved rest.

See? Nice guy, great answers, hot bod. So go get the book on Amazon! And also connect with him on Facebook and Twitter.

Nigeria's a Mess & Abuja is Burning, so I'm Back in London

My dear readers, I have relocated to England. I will return to Abuja one day, but boy, Nigeria is in a BIG mess. I can't even begin to tell of what I've been through.

So after the first explosion in Abuja, my family were calling me from England and asking me to reassess my habitation in Abuja amidst the growing insecurity. So I did.

The crazy thing was that I was in Nyanya on the Saturday before the first blast for a wedding, and drove past the scene of the explosion, which is by a very busy motorway. Nyanya is a densely populated, poorer area on the outskirts of Abuja where many civil servants live because the rent is much cheaper there than in the Abuja metropolis (average rent is around N500, 000 a year for modest lodging in Abuja, whilst in places like Nyanya it's around N100, 000 or less).

I imagine myself like I'm in one of those movies where the city is under attack and buildings are erupting in small explosions behind me everywhere as I dock and weave my way to safety, finally I leap in slow motion and grab unto a swaying ladder hanging from a helicopter labelled 'BRITISH AIRWAYS', and as the helicopter veers away the whole city finally explodes in a huge ball of yellow inferno, and I look down on the burning, hot mess with a tear in my eye, all bruised and battered from my two and a half year life living as a returnee to Abuja.

I will write about distinct aspects of my bad experiences in another post, as this post will concentrate on my departure and why Boko Haram is winning the war in Nigeria.

The First Nyanya Bomb
Firstly let me make one thing clear: the official death toll of around 75 for the first Nyanya bombing on Monday 14 April has been grossly under-represented. I was working for a broadcast media station in Abuja before I left and was responsible for their social media output, and from reports and eye witness accounts, I can confidently tell you that at least 400 people died in that explosion. Yes, 400, and I believe even much more.

One of our freelance journalists who lives near Nyanya called me to tell me he saw four burnt out buses after the explosion, and each of those buses would have been full at the time of the bombing (around 7am on a Monday morning) and each bus carries 50 people. But with the way Nigeria is, I believe if the official capacity is 50, at least 55 would have been on these buses.

I count seven burnt out buses here, and I believe they would each have been full of people that fateful morning. 

Another row of four burnt out buses. Still believe that only 71 people died?

Other pictures from the scene show a row of up to eight burnt out buses, not including kekenapeps, motorcycles, pedestrians, commuters queuing to board buses, street hawkers and cars nearby also loaded with people. A bus park like this is usually heaving with people trying to get into town for work. And remember that some of the injured would have died later in hospital.

So it really pisses me off whenever I see reports from CNN and Nigerian media of the death toll in the 70s, it's a gross injustice to the actual number of people who died, and dangerously underplays the enormity of the blast.

Such unrepresentative figures of the dead in these situations come from eye witness accounts usually from a journalist from Reuters or something who counts the bodies they see before them, but don't take into account bodies in other areas of the scene, the obliterated bodies (human parts were strewn everywhere) or those that die later in hospital. And Nigerian reporters, inadequately equipped to take proper account of the dead, and without a streamlined system for recording those missing, or forensics taking details of bits they find (it usually takes weeks before the final death toll figures are released) and the propensity for Nigerians to regard as correct information from CNN rather than figures from their own people, the initial report stands and is rarely updated.

The numbers injured, officially in the 100s or 200s, should also be much higher.

Some reports also say it was a suicide bomber, then there was a picture of the supposed suicide bomber (with body in tact, is that possible?), then other reports say it was a car bomb. One of my colleagues, who also lives near Nyanya and would usually have traveled to work that fateful morning but was late, says there were rumours that it was a boy with a bomb. The freelancer that called me told me an empty car was seen by commuters parked in front of one of the buses, and as a bus driver horned for the car to get out of the way, it exploded.

But can one car bomb make such an impact, with reports of a huge crater at the scene of the carnage and the rows and rows of burnt out vehicles? Reports of petrol tankers nearby that exploded too might explain the level of impact, but who knows?

This image has been touted all around Nigeria as the suicide bomber. But has there ever been a suicide bomber found intact like this, whilst other victims of the blast were obliterated?

The fact remains we don't know what type of bomb it was, how many people were killed and how many are still missing presumed dead. And nobody will ever find out.

The Second Nyanya Bomb

I heard about the second bomb on Friday May 2 - which occurred right by the scene of the second bomb - after I'd arrived back in England. And judging by what I now know of the first incident, the official figure of 19 dead is most likely 119. I'm serious. People die in Nigeria and nobody knows or cares to find out the details. Again the hospitals were filled, there were calls for people to donate blood, and President Jonathan called another security meeting afterwards to access the issue. Nonsense. But more on President Jonathan later.

I heard reports that the bomb supposedly exploded earlier than planned, and the target was for the following day or Monday? 

Either way, Abuja proper, the central areas that is, are still safe (for now), and Nyanya is quite a distance away. But the point is that Boko Haram have now infiltrated the nation's capital. 

FACT: Boko Haram are Mightier than the Nigerian Army

This is sad but true. Boko Haram not only have better weapons and transportation, they are also united in their purpose and vision, something the Nigerian army (thanks to lack of funds, tribalism and various motives for joining the force) are not. 

And I think the numbers they say Boko Haram have killed in Nigeria in the past five years is 1,500? Well triple it and you'll get closer to the right number. Hundreds have been killed in Borno, Yobe etc, but because these are remote states, no official eye witness is there to count, unlike in Abuja, and see how the numbers there were still under-estimated. My mind boggles at the carnage BH have caused, not just the trail of countless dead, but the maimed, blinded, orphaned, widowed, homeless, income-less and whole communities that have been destroyed. 

And the army, although celebrating a few successes here and there of foiled bomb attacks, and despite the $6bn in funding they receive annually, they are not performing. I've heard reports that the huge funds are siphoned away by the generals and 'ogas at the top,' and the soldier on the ground gets a pittance to live on; they sleep on the bare ground when on duty, have three pure water sachets allocated to each of them and faulty, aged weaponry, some of which are from the Biafran war of the 60s. I have a friend who is a lieutenant who tells me some of their challenges.

And they resort to lying to look as if they're performing, not just lying about finding the missing Chibok girls, but also about catching Fulani militants. The military/police released the pic below, supposedly of Fulani men, but they most certainly are not. They don't look Fulani at all, and rural Fulani men rarely ever wear boxers even. Lies.

These men are not, nor were they ever, Fulani herdsmen in any shape or form

Boko Haram's leader, Abubakar Shekau, in a video claiming responsibility for the Nyanya attack, not only taunted the Nigerian president and said 'catch me if you can', he also boasted that the Nyanya attack was a small one compared to what they're planning. They also confirmed they were behind the school girls' abductions, and said they'll sell the girls off.

His video online was so odious it hurt my ears to listen to the Arabic/Hausa, although I read somewhere there was close to 20 minutes of his rantings, yet I can only find a 1 minute video which was cut mid-sentence. Hmmm. 

#BringBackOurGirls

The way that the whole world has campaigned for the release of the over 200 girls abducted by Boko Haram men dressed as the Nigerian army (Umm...who supplied them with army uniform??) from their boarding school in Chibok, which is in Borno State, has been astonishing, heartening and wonderful in a sad, uplifting way.

Firstly, the exact number of girls kidnapped remains unknown. it's been 85, 197, 234, 250, etc over the weeks since their abduction, with reports it could be up to 300, as students from neighbouring schools were brought into Chibok at the time for exams. The names of the girls have been released, and the majority of them are Christians, but I believe the number abducted is more than 300. 

Now I'm aware of some in the Muslim community both in Nigeria (see here) and around the world (see here) who forcibly kidnap Christian girls and marry them so that they convert the girl and the eventual offspring become Muslims, and there are reports that the Chibok girls have been married off to the militants, who need both cooks and wives to tend to them in their camps. Some of the girls have also been reportedly taken out of Nigeria into neighbouring Chad and Cameroon.

Street protests in Abuja, Lagos, London and everywhere else have taken place about the issue, the kidnapping is front page news on the BBC and CNN websites, and widespread attention has been given to the issue, with American and British celebrities, politicians etc speaking out on the issue. It's a BIG story. 

Yet am I being pessimistic when I say that, from what I've seen and heard, those girls will never be found? Remember that another group of girls were kidnapped in similar circumstances weeks before these ones in Chibok, and those ones were never found, and they're out of the news.

  

And everyone knew, after a couple of days, the location of the Chibok girls. They were in the Sambisa forest, as locals saw groups of girls, many still in their school uniforms, been loaded and unloaded unto trucks and driven away. 

Some of the parents of the girls tried to go into the forest themselves to rescue the girls, but failed. I believe the military also knew where the girls were but were afraid to go into the Sambisa forest, maybe due to an agreement between themselves and the terrorists to stay away from that area (this is very possible) or because they are inadequately equipped to go in, rescue the girls, detain or kill the kidnappers and emerge safely. That takes a lot of planning and fire power, all of which were probably beyond the capacity of the soldiers.

I know I sound negative and condescending about the power of the Nigerian army, but dear readers, I've seen these things. It annoys me so much, the way corruption and ineptitude has made fools and wicked men out of a force that should be strongly focused on citizen's safety.

I pray for the girls too, and God bless every non-Nigerian that has lent their voice to the campaign, and the Nigerians whose hearts bleed at the injustice of having children stolen and the government unable to do anything about it, despite it seeming so easy to get them back, and knowing if you lived in a different country such a thing would never happen, and if it did, it would be the government's priority to find them and they would have done so by now. It's excruciatingly awful that the Sambisa forest was off-limits to soldiers because of the might of Boko Haram, who operate with impunity and can kidnap more students again at any time.

This report by the Guardian newspaper quoted a source from Nigeria's intelligence agencies who said: 

“We in the intelligence were ready to penetrate the sect but they [the government] wasted too much time concentrating on irrelevances. Now it is too late, the intelligence guys are not ready to risk their lives any more after all the frustration from the managers in Abuja. We have given them all the information they need including the level of sophistication of the insurgents; it’s up to them to act.”

Those girls should have been found days following their disappearance. Now I fear it's too late. And if BH decide to release some (I've heard reports the Muslim girls have been released), it would be their own decision independent from force or any negotiations.

A Nice But Dim President
President Goodluck Jonathan seems like a nice man. He would have been a great lecturer I'm sure, but putting him in charge of the most populous, richest and most troubled country in the whole of Africa was a big mistake.

Not only because he lacks the 'killer instinct' to be tough on the bad guys in the Nigerian system, but also because his political enemies (mostly the Muslim North) are hell-bent on making his tenure a mess, because they feel that, in the grand tradition of the turn-by-turn Christian/South then Northern/Muslim system of voting in Nigerian presidents, that it wasn't the South's turn yet. (Former President Yar'Adua, a Northern Muslim, died in office, leading to his vice president Jonathan taking over prematurely).

So repeated attacks by Boko Haram have been orchestrated to frustrate Jonathan and make him look inept, and the feeling is that if he contests and wins Nigeria's national elections next year, things will be worse.

His Presidential media chat yesterday in which he answered questions and showed he had no idea where the missing girls were (he told the journalists present that they knew more than he did about the situation) and in which he said that many people were stealing government money in Nigeria but that this was not corruption, was sad to see. (Read more about that Presidential Media chat here).

The powers that be in Nigeria are mostly there to 'chop,' their minions on the ground have become mean due to lack of money and resort to bribery at every turn, and the ordinary man exists in a helpless void of knowing you're all alone, and the government will most probably hurt you rather than do well for you in your life time.

So...I Left
Yup. And as many Nigerians looked upon my decision to opt out of the mess with envy, saying I could never claim to be Nigerian when I can so easily disengage and run off, I say yes. And you would too if you could.

You're proudly Nigerian because you have no choice.

I'm back in England now, where things are so decent it's almost boring, and although there are challenges, I don't have to worry that my siblings could be stolen from their schools never to be seen again, or that my government doesn't know I exist, neither does it care and it could in fact kill me tomorrow and bury the evidence.

The fact that I automatically got an NI number through the post when I turned 16, and if I turn 100 the Queen automatically sends me a birthday card, and my details are on countless systems somewhere, all attesting to the fact that I exist and the government knows me and is watching, is a source of comfort to me. Absolutely.

Nigeria, my Motherland, I tried to love you, I tried to make it work, but it was just too much of an uphill battle. Adios, for now. I will visit for sure, but I shall never live with you again, even if I become fabulously wealthy and could afford all the trappings of the West in my house.

Two good female friends of mine, born and bred in the UK, relocated to Nigeria (Lagos) recently and are thriving: they've launched successful businesses, enjoy a vibrant social life and are living large. I believe if you have lots of money (which I didn't) and have an entrepreneurial flair (which I don't), you can make it in Nigeria.

But I'm just not built for all that. I don't want to live in a beautiful castle in the middle of a gutter, next to a den of robbers and adjacent to a brood of vipers, knowing that if the outside gets in, I'm on my own.

There's just too much wrong in Nigeria for it to ever be OK for me.