On the Path to Afikpo River

“Mama tell us another story” Ifeoma and I tugged at the hem of grandma’s wrapper like Oliver Twist. “Ok, this will be the last for tonight” Grandma said. “I will tell you two a story of a scene I witnessed on my way to Afikpo river long time ago when I was still a girl. It’s a story of two lovers; Chukwuka and Ada” she pauses for moment. “Guess who they are now?” Grandma asked us. “My ears are itching Grandma” Ifeoma said impatiently. “The Obi of Owa and his Alasi” Grandma said in a voice so tender and eyes glistening with memories as though she was unleashing some top secret.

 “A long time ago while walking through the path that led to Afikpo River on my way to the farm, I witnessed the inception of a love story that still lives” Grandma began. “Ada an ebony skinned girl in her prime was then our village belle. The meticulously knotted skimpy wrapper that she ties round her waist accentuates her curves. The beads she wears on her waist and ankles dances rhythmically whenever she moves her body that she carries with the agility of a tiger and with the pride of a peacock. The empty water pot she is carrying to the river sits perfectly as though it was glued to her head as she makes no effort to support it with her hand. ‘I don’t like the way Udo beats up my sisters’ Ada tells Chukwuka. ‘I have been warning him, but it seems obvious my warnings have been falling on deaf ears. Chisom came crying to me this morning just before I left for the river that Udo forcefully took from her the okpa mama gave to her’ Ada complains to Chukwuka. ‘He is fortunate he did not know me when I was a tom-boy, I would have left him with a missing tooth and a broken jaw not mindful he is a prince’. ‘I have always known you to be a mother hen that jealously guards her chicks. I will remind Udo when I get home to steer clear the Ikemefuna sisters to avoid the wrath of mother hen’. “Chukwuka takes a quick bow like a chivalric knight”. Grandma continued “They both kept stealing glances at each other. On getting to the cross road that leads to their various destination, they parted ways reluctantly. In a bid to steal a last glance, Ada turns her head and catches Chukwuka stealing a glance too. Looking away abruptly, her empty water pot falls on a log and shatters. Bending to gather the remains of her broken pot, Chukwuka came bending beside her to help out, their eyes lock in a passionate stare. Watching as a lone spectator, I knew the rest would be history”

There Must be a Difference Ayanfe...

We time

“We time” for Nkem and I is that that time of the day when we relieve the day’s experiences together on phone. For us it is a culture.  At “We time” for Nkem and I lash out on each other if occasion demands, cry together, laugh over everything laughable, agree in prayer when we can’t handle it, fight each… the rule is that at both end, non goes to bed with any unresolved issue. Duration of the call @ “We time” is not the priorities; top on the list for us is that quality time.

Tonight’s “we time”

“We time” tonight had a unique tone. The tone was so passionate that I could almost touch it. It was phenomena, revealing and deep. After teasing, taunting and laughing at each other, I felt it was time to kiss goodnight.  I asked in a rather casual tone,“Is anything on your mind? “I think I had wanted to say “Can we call it a night?” little did I know that the call was about to begin “Yes baby. I have been mulling over a thought for the past few days. I have been asking myself a very critical question”. Adjusting myself, I asked playfully but really curious “What am I missing out?” “Pardon me baby, I planned communicating it to you after coming to a conclusion. I just came to a conclusion this evening.” With his deep but breathy voice Nkem asked me…

The hot seat

Is there any benefit serving in God? I mean can you really say with all sincerity to yourself that there is a difference between you and that colleague of yours that is not saved?” ‘Dear God! Someone is backsliding’. I thought to myself. Thank goodness he did not hear that, maybe that might have cut the flow. (I forgot to tell you that Nkem was on his way to an all-night prayer meeting in church when we had this conversation). “Hello! Baby, are you still there” he asked me after few seconds of elapsedsilence “Oh! Were you expecting an answer from me? I thought it was a rhetorical question?” I mustered trying to regain composure. “I need to hear your opinion before I share with you my conclusion”. Clearing my throat “What makes me different from an unbeliever is the hope of Christ in me. It is that inner peace that I feel, that eternal hope” I said. “I understand that we have an eternal hope baby” he said sounding unconvinced.“Let’s put it this way” reframing the question, he said “Do you expect to have a different result from an unbeliever? If yes why?“more composed this time, I answered “well, following natural principles, when a person believer or non-believer is diligent, hardworking, committed to a cause, he will certainly be a success just like the law of sowing and reaping, but I will not expect us to have same result with someone that does not know God even if we put in same input because… because I know God”.

“You are close it baby. Let’s assume that I am that your colleague. I am very learned, smart and have the smell success, way more successful than you, but I don’t care about God.   How do you logically convince me beyond reasonable doubt that I need to be saved; that I need what you have?” I racked my brain a little more, sat up this time. “I don’t need to see any visible difference to know that, I just know we are not the same and God knows that also”.  After some moments of silence, Nkem asked in a voice pulsating with energy and fervor “How do you articulate this difference?” 

The Eureka Moment

I held the closer to my ears not to allow any word fall down. “that difference between you and that normal guy out there that does not know God cannot be communicated nor expressed, it is manifested. You must manifest that difference baby. That is ourlogical proof and flag that declares us believers in this smart and paced age that we live in.” God is the father of all, but sons and daughters have that extra. That extra magnifies your natural effort and put you above. You must demand for it baby. Don’t expect to always stand at the same pedestal with every regular child of God. If you don’t know this truth and have it as a deep conviction, you will lose your identity. Expect a difference, demand for it and manifest it. There just have to be a difference! Oh no. I’m being warned that I have limited airtime”. Exhaling “Pardon me love for boring you tonight” “did you say bore?” “We will talk tomorrow Ayanfe, let me quickly goodnight before the service provider does that for me…” “Hello! Hello!” I called out “Oh!  my battery just died” I spoke out loud!...

What is Culture? 

When I was in primary school, I was taught that “culture is the way of life of the people”. It came to me so easily. I crammed the definition and never hesitated to reproduce it on occasions I was asked “what is culture?” When we got to secondary school, the definition of culture got a little beef up; “culture is the cumulative deposit of knowledge, experience, beliefs, values, and attitudes.” hmmm! That was a little mouthful but I found my way around it. Trust me I was good at cramming. It poured it back to them at my junior WAEC. Little wonder I came out with distinction! (Don’t ask for my result) The definition took another twist when I got into the university. GST (Generation Studies) gave me a rather vague definition of culture “culture consists of patterns, explicit and implicit, of and for behavior acquired and transmitted by symbols, constituting the distinctive achievement of human groups, including their embodiment in artifacts; the essential core of culture consists of traditional ideas and especially their attached values; culture systems may, on the one hand, be considered as products of action, on the other hand, as conditioning influences upon further action”. I managed to survive this definition. After several attempts at cramming it, I gave up. I can’t remember though if “what is culture” was asked in the exam, I sure could have told them my primary school definition. Anyways I passed the exam As I immersed myself a little more into studies at post graduate, the definition of culture lost colour. I learnt that “culture is communication; communication is culture”. How do I explain to my little niece that came home with the assignment “what is culture?” How do I communicate to her that “culture is communication and communication is culture?” Maybe if it is broken down, the meaning may come through to us. What is communication? Communication is an exchange of information between a sender and receiver through a channel. If culture is communication, who then is the sender and who is the receiver and what message is being transmitted through what channel? (Oh please don’t loose me; I am trying to make it as simple as I can). Role call- Let make the sender the society which comprises of institutions like, the family, the schools, the church/mosque, etc and then the receiver as You and I. Let’s put the message as the kind of food we eat, our dress code etc which forms our beliefs, taboos, norms and value. They disseminate this message through print, radio, family gatherings, festivals etc… The Aha! Moment- What is culture really? Not many of us have given it a taught. I agree with the later definition that culture is communication. Putting many dots together, I see how it all connects now. The Americans have born and indoctrinated (not in the negative sense) that America is the world. This notion have been communicated to them through institutions like the family, school, Hollywood etc and this belief and value for America have become their way of life. Every developed nation today have that value, belief, norms that have been communicated over and over again through institutions and the feedback that we all se today is seen in their way of life. Lesson- Now I can confidently tell my little niece that “culture is communication and communication is culture”. I will deliberately drive some virtues into her; until those virtues becomes her values and beliefs that she holds dearly and reflects in her way of life; I will not stop until communicating to her until she too becomes a nation builder. I am sure when she gets to school tomorrow and she asked “what is culture” her hands will be flung up high…

INTRODUCTION

“Start-Up Nation” was written by Dan Senor and Saul Singer and published by Twelve Books. The claims which the authors argue in the entire book are; “Israel is innovative and entrepreneurial” and “Israel is the next big thing”.

Daniel Samuel “Dan Senor” is an American writer and political adviser who has been considered as “an unusual breed… a policy wonk, a media maven, successful author and financier. Saul Singer is an American-Israeli journalist and author. He is formally the editorial page editor at The “Jerusalem Post”.

In the backdrop of the “Start-up Nation” Israel’s success story is one seeded by a feat of survival, watered by a corporate culture which has its root in chutzpah, nourished by battlefield experience that resulted in innovation and entrepreneurship, and crafted by the chisel of Government policies and strategies and motive,classic cluster modeled after Michael Porter and venture capital.

Putting “Start-Up Nation” in the context of classic traits of entrepreneurship and features that makes an entrepreneur innovative, Dan Senor and Saul Singer successfully articulated these features with justifiable proofs. The book is a classic business plan for Israel. It began with an executive summary in the manner of a foreword by President Shimon Peres, glides on to the body where it judiciously sells Israel by going from the history of Israel, the present situation and forecast. It reveals Israel’s strengths and balances it threats inherent to the economic miracle and concludes with the projections made by President Shimon Peres.

...Join me next for the reveiw of chapter one

LIFE IN ABSTRACT

The molue with its imposing frame packed full with passengers plying through the metropolis of Lagos created a scintillating sight to me. The two conductors stationed at the entrance and exit of the molue called out to passengers in voices husky but inviting causing a sought of duet performance in a concert. The call of the duo was not in vain because two young men came running towards the molue as though they were both on a relay track.

Taking my eyes a little away from the molue, I saw a motor cyclist conveying a passenger, reflecting another form of transportation.  What intrigued me was that everyone seemed to be in a sort of chase. “What’s all of the hurry about?” I found myself thinking out loud. While I was mulling over the molue, the sight of a goat and a cock strolling past the road as though not afraid of being crushed made me giggle unconsciously. My giggle was short lived as I saw a woman carrying her wares on her head tugging at her little child who was also carrying some wares. She looked more like someone hawking. That sight made my heart leap, not just for her but for the African woman. The strength they embody. The sight of the child spoke to my feminine nature. It mirrored the bond between a mother and child. I could not help but pause to gulp a mouth full of admiration for this mother and child.

Flipping my eyes across the road was an even more spectacular sight. It is a sight of market women and men all displaying their wares on various stands with some hawking theirs. Scanning through the market, I spotted a woman shading herself and her ware with a beautifully coloured umbrella. She was being patronized by another woman. “Maybe her beautiful umbrella is the centre of attraction” I thought loud to myself.  Taking my eyes off her and looking farther into the market, I observed that everyone seemed to be on the go; to their various houses I suppose. In a bid to understand the reason for the chase, I looked at the cloud and saw its thickness. There is an imminent down pour I suppose.

I could not help but admire the simple life of the people in this community. They communicate deeply to me. They portray the everyday life of a typical Lagosian. Standing akimbo and smiling broadly lost in admiration, I felt a gentle tap from behind. “Can I join you please?” One of the waitresses at the cafeteria asked me. “You look so engrossed and fascinated with this painting”. “Oh!” I quickly looked at the time and discovered I had spent over twenty minutes staring at the painting that hung on the wall of the cafeteria. I looked around and saw curious eyes staring at me as if waiting for explanation. “Did I just make fool myself?” I asked the waitress in a whisper. “Far from it dear; I just want you to tell me what you can see”. She said in a warm but curious voice. Blushing and tongue tied, I smiled at her and walked out of the cafeteria briskly. “Amadi Obi is such a terrific painter” I said to myself as I looked back to catch a quick glimpse at the painting again before shutting the door behind me.