"Where were you?"
Sunday, December 27, 2015
What The Witches Said by Reuben Abati
"Where were you?"
Friday, December 25, 2015
Remembering Christmas by Reuben Abati
Christmas looks so different these days from what it was when I was growing up. It is so different it is almost unrecognizable. In this same country, in the 70s, Christmas was a season of celebration, but also of spiritual upliftment, joy abundant, hope, reaffirmation of faith in the certainty of Salvation, and the ritual of that which begins, and that which ends, as a New Year beckoned. We were brought up on a steady diet of Sunday School lessons, and so Christmas and Easter were very much a part of our growing up. We always looked forward to Christmas with excitement. It was that time of the year when we all wanted to act one role or the other in the re-enactment of the drama of Nativity.
The preparation for this drama, which was usually staged during Christmas service, to the sound of melodious songs and priestly excitement, was the high point on Christmas Day of the celebration of Christ The Lord. Weeks earlier, the church organized Christmas Carols. If you made the special choir, you felt as if you had won a lottery. Everyone was a songster of sorts, belting out Christmas Carols in both English and the local language. Parents singing. Children singing. Everyone dancing. The feel-good mood was so intense. You could run into people on the streets and the standard greeting, be they Muslims or Christians, was "Merry Christmas!" The official church Carol team went from one church member's home to another to deliver the good tidings of the season and to announce the coming birth of the Saviour. Christmas strengthened our sense of community, and our Christianity and faith as well.
It was also that time of the year for the reinforcement of family values. People whom you had not seen for the whole year travelled home from their stations to be part of Christmas. You got the chance to meet cousins, make new friends, and sing till you almost went hoarse. I wasn't much of a singer or drummer- my friends used to laugh each time I missed a note or a beat and we would spend weeks afterwards mimicking each other. In short, Christmas was real fun. But it was relatively a simple, inexpensive celebration, year after year. Our parents did not have to borrow, or go bankrupt, or agonize, for Christmas to be meaningful.
We got one or two new clothes and shoes: those were the usual Christmas gifts. On Christmas day, after church, lunch didn't have to be anything extra-ordinary: it was no more than rice and chicken. In those days, chicken was a special delicacy, reserved for Sundays, or special occasions like birthdays or Christmas, very much unlike now that every child acquires the taste for tasty chicken from the womb! On Boxing Day, we either visited friends or stayed home, and played with firecrackers and bangers on the streets. Those children who could not afford bangers were not left out. They improvised with local devices made by blacksmiths. That contraption produced even better effect.
Our Muslim friends usually joined us, but they always teased us. In those days, Muslims and Christians celebrated religious festivals together, without any hang-ups about the difference in faith. Virtually every family had Muslim and Christian branches. Give it to Muslims, however, their own seasons were usually more elaborately and colourfully celebrated. They slaughtered rams during theEid el-Kabir and were generous, handing out gifts of fried meat to family friends and acquaintances. During that festival also known as Ileya, the major Muslim festival, you could acquire a whole bucket-load of meat to sustain the family soup pot for weeks, without being a Muslim and without buying a ram.
Christians were not known to be that generous. Every Christian family was governed by rules of restraint. And so, Christmas restricted themselves to the killing of chicken or turkey; some families did not even bother to slaughter anything at all, and they did not violate any religious code, and in any case, Christians didn't feel obliged to share meat with neighbours. The effect was that Muslim relations and friends had this funny song, which was a friendly way of accusing Christians of being stingy. "Ko s'ina dida nbe; Ko s'ina dida nbe, K'olorun ko so wa d'amodun o, ko s'ina dida nbe". The truth is that nobody took offence, nobody considered the songs derisory, instead the teasing by Muslims attracted shared laughter. Even if there was no meat to share among the entire neighbourhood, there was more than enough fun to go round as many Muslim children joined us to shoot the bangers and make lots of noise. Many of them in fact knew the Christmas songs; they also joined us to stage in our own neighbourhood then, what was called the Christmas masque, or in Yoruba:"Mebo".
The Mebo was a simple enactment, a blend of the secular, the profane and the religious, drawing its elements from a syncretic base. The Masque or Mebo was dressed like a Masquerade: his face was not supposed to be seen. He was the main attraction, backed by drummers and singers: we used pots and pans and maybe our mouths as drums. The masque danced and led the songs:
"Iya Kaa'le o
Wa dagba wa darugbo
Baba Ka'ale o
Wa dagba wa darugbo
Mebo yo robo
E ba mi wa so mi soro
Mebo O yo robo o
E ba mi wa so mi soro.
There is nothing Christianly about this type of song, but for us, growing up, we celebrated Christmas in the neighbourhood, mixing elements of all the religions and all the available modes. Even children of Egungun worshippers joined the Christmas celebration. And so we could start with Mebo yo robo, and shift to "We wish you a Merry Xmas…Good tidings we bring… Hark! The Herald Angels Sing… E lu agogo E lu agogo, E lu agogo o Olugbala de o, e lu agogo…Keresimesi, Keresimesi, …" followed by other songs in Yoruba, which connected well with the community and did not attract any objections. We went from one house to the other and some people would give the Mebo money, which we shared thereafter and used to buy more bangers and firecrackers. We went round night after night until Christmas Eve.
Our parents did not discourage us, knowing that it was all in the spirit of the season. They also did not have to worry about anyone getting kidnapped, or getting into any form of danger. It was a different Nigeria in those days. Those were the days of innocence when children were brought up to shun any form of ostentation and conspicuous consumption. It was the season of joy and contentment. Just as we celebrated Christmas in the town, there was also as much excitement in the villages. The prospect of a New Year, a week after, always made the season special.
But Christmas today is different. It has become a commercial enterprise for many families and investors, with little or no emphasis on the spiritual dimension. I don't hear too many children going from house to house even in the same old town where I grew up, singing Christmas Carols. This new generation does not know Mebo. But they knowSanta in Naija on their phones and similar animations. In our time, we talked about Father Christmas; today's children refer to him asSanta Claus. There is no sense of community anymore, only a sense of rising expenses and religious isolationism. Many churches cannot even organize house-to-house Carols. Parents are reluctant to let their children go out to any stranger's house, be they Christians or whoever. They don't want their children kidnapped; they don't want their daughters to be raped. Some of the churches have no buses, or they cannot even afford to buy fuel at N130 per litre. If anybody shows up at anybody's door, singing Christmas Carols, these days, the door is likely to remain shut. The times are truly different. You can never know who the visitors are: they could be a band of armed robbers, dancing their way to your doorstep, to gain entrance and inflict harm.
I don't see the excitement of old anymore. Many average families cannot even afford to travel home for Christmas. The cost is too high. The city of Lagos used to look deserted close to Christmas, because virtually all the non-Lagosians would have returned to their villages to celebrate Christmas and New Year with their kith and kin. This year, Lagos traffic is still as busy as ever. People are staying back. Even the more privileged families also don't want to go to the village. They are afraid of being mobbed by all kinds of relatives looking for help. It is easier to tell people you did not see their text messages, or the account numbers they sent, even when you have not announced that you have surplus money to give away, but to go to the village and see them face-to-face, could be quite an ordeal. I have listened to various tales of harassment, reported by persons who have had to tolerate that cousin who has just taken a third wife, who wants to be supported to maintain the woman, or that in-law who wants to buy a motorcycle and his body language is like if he doesn't get the support he wants, he'd be tempted to recall his daughter!
I really haven't heard those peals of laughter that used to be the main feature of Christmas anymore. What I see is the sheer anxiety on people's faces. Christmas has become so expensive. Many parents are practically panicking! The children of today are not interested in Christmas rice and chicken: that stopped being a special delicacy a long time ago. They want expensive gifts. And there are many capitalists cashing in on the taste of today's children, to provide a variety of services and items that dig holes in a parent's pockets. One parent remarked that he really does not know what to do. His salary has not been paid. His children would like to experience Christmas. His wife wants a special gift. His children look like they don't want their Christmas to be "inconclusive." But in January, he will also have to pay their school fees for the new term.
On top of it all, our society today is more divided than it was even after the civil war. Our laughter is shorter; our hopes are slimmer. We will celebrate Christmas all the same because we are a people of faith and hope..…Well, "don't worry, be happy!" Merry Christmas.
Sunday, December 20, 2015
El-Zakzaky, Religion and the Nigerian State by Reuben Abati
By the same token, the Nigerian security establishment has since the 1980s showed an equal determination to put El Zakzaky in his place. But in no way does this justify the extra-judicial killing of members of the Islamic Movement, or the use of the word, "Prisoners of War" (POW) to describe its detained members. The Nigerian Government since the '80s has set up a series of panels of inquiry and produced tomes on the subject of forging peaceful relations between the state and religion, and yet religion remains a key threat to amalgamation and the sanctity of the Nigerian state.
What we are dealing with is something deeper — it is the outflow of a deep schism within the Islamic faith on the questions of authenticity and legitimacy, in terms of what constitutes rules, doctrines, interpretations and values. This old battle for doctrinal supremacy is what has been responsible for the divisions within the faith since the First Fitna. It is the drama being played out in the Middle East. It is the story and politics of ISIS and ISIL. This is why it will be wrong to describe the Islamic Movement in Nigeria's constant conflict with the Nigerian state as a confrontation between Nigerian Muslims and the state, to the extent that ISIS or ISIL does not speak for all Muslims just as the ISMIN does not speak for all Nigerian Muslims.
Friday, December 18, 2015
Why History should be taught by Reuben Abati
There is never a scarcity of shocking events, revelations, encounters and experiences in the course of the interesting times we seem destined to live in. But nothing can perhaps be more shocking than a recent encounter I had with a young man. He had remarked quite innocently to my hearing that he wondered what all the noise was all about over the late Chief M.K.O. Abiola. "Who is he?", he asked. I almost passed out.
"Who is Chief M.K.O. Abiola? How old are you? When were you born?", I retorted, trying to figure out whether it is indeed possible for anyone in this country not to know who MKO Abiola is. I followed up with another question.
"You mean you don't know who MKO is?"
"Why should I know him? Does he know me?"
By now, I was sweating. It turned out that the young man was born in 1995, two years after the 1993 Presidential election, and he was still a toddler by the time of the return to civilian rule in 1999. Now 20 years old, and a university graduate, he has grown up inside Nigeria, never knowing the late MKO Abiola, the martyr of the struggle for democracy: the main man whose sacrifice and heroism resulted in a long, civil society protest against military rule. Abiola was in addition, a major African philanthropist, a promoter of sports and one of the most remarkable figures in Nigerian history in the latter part of the 20th Century. I tried to explain Abiola's significance to the young man.
"Good for him", was his response. I could sense that he wasn't excited.
I had to take on the additional task of further urging him to check out the name on Google: the knowledge made-easy platform on which the young ones rely for quick information. I dare not ask him to read some books about that period in Nigerian history, knowing what new technology has done to many of our youth, who find it difficult to read anything that is more than a few easy paragraphs. My encounter with this particular young Nigerian ended with the sad feeling that there are many like him out there, already out of university and busy thinking of next steps in their lives but who know next to nothing about the history of their country.
I have had similar encounters in more recent times: young Nigerians who do not know the author of Things Fall Apart, and who have never heard of Lord Lugard, Ahmadu Bello, Bola Ige or Kaduna Nzeogwu. The other day, I stumbled on an exercise on social media in which someone posted the picture of Samuel Ladoke Akintola, and asked that he should be identified. This generated some confusion as some referred to him as Adegoke Adelabu, and some of those who could identify him said Akintola was the one that uttered the famous phrase: "peculiar mess", which got translated by his Yoruba listeners to "penkelemesi". The only relief I took away was that nobody said the picture was that of Aminu Kano or Sa'ad Zungur. I imagine, at this rate, that a day may well come in the future when some young Nigerians may never have heard of Murtala Muhammed, or any of the present-day historical figures.
This is one of those self-inflicted omissions in our development process. Close to two decades ago, history was removed from the primary and secondary school curricula as a core subject. The teaching of history also became threatened at the tertiary level, as it got labeled as one of those disciplines that cannot get anyone a job in the oil and gas sector or the banks. In an attempt to remain relevant and avoid being shut down by the National Universities Commission, History Departments became creative by changing their content and nomenclature to History and Diplomatic Studies, or History and International Relations.
A succeeding generation of History graduates never failed to emphasize the suffixes. At the primary and secondary levels, history was replaced with social studies (which is at best a study of civics), or made optional, until it was even completely removed from the syllabus. Years of lamentation by history teachers has not made any difference, but the point needs to be made ad nauseam, that the school curriculum must be reviewed to place a better emphasis on the learning and teaching of history. It is in fact quite ironic that Religious Studies occupies a more privileged place in the Nigerian school curriculum: we are busy teaching our students and the future generation, the two major religions, and many of them grow up force-fed with only that kind of history that the religious books teach, along with the dogma. Today, we are harvesting the dangers.
History is the connecting link between the past, the present and the future. Serious nations take time out to teach students and the general populace the history of the people and their country, for it is only when a people know where they have been, where they are, and where they are going that they can better prepare themselves for challenges. The history of mankind is repetitive, another way of saying there is nothing new under the sun, by learning from other ages, we build the confidence to forge ahead.
Every country that cherishes memory and the art and culture of remembrance of all things past and present strengthens nationalism, a sense of citizenship and the current of knowledge in the public space. History is a truckload of mistakes made, from which we can draw lessons and accomplishments from which we can draw inspiration. It is also an instrument of power: colonialists in Africa did not teach the history of the colonized, they taught their own history, and insisted that Africans had no history, and no culture. It took a whole generation of African historians to insist on the existence and the authenticity of African history, and to tell our story to the world as a means of affirming identity, cultural heritage and independence. And yet today, this aspect of the struggle against mental slavery and domination has been abandoned.
The teaching of history needs not be formal: indeed in developed countries, more history is taught informally, bits of history are inserted into the landscape of social being in various forms. These include different types of museums: natural history, art, aviation, technology, war. Monuments are erected at chosen locations to remind the people of the past. Homes and birthplaces of famous achievers, including writers, statesmen and war heroes are marked and described. Public buildings welcome visitors with history. Cultural products, including movies, are also used to promote national history and energize the populace. By the time a child grows up in the midst of all this, he develops a sense of awareness that guides his relationship with country. It is also for the same reason that professions, including the military, teach their own history, to project tradition and achievement.
The historical narrative, thus represented in many shapes, has defined many societies. We visit such societies, enjoy their spectacles, absorb their narratives, and even buy their mementoes, but here back home, we have no museums, telling any significant story. We have no public places preserving the memories of our heroes past. Every child in Ghana knows who Kwame Nkrumah is, because his legacy is well-preserved in the public space. Where are the Nigerian equivalents: we don't even keep official records anymore. Where is Nigeria's National Presidential library? A nation without a conscious promotion of its history, culture, landmarks, icons, symbols, monuments, and heroes is a society deserving of extinction.
In the absence of a deliberate and structured effort to see history as a tool for national development, we have over the years left the telling of our story to revisionists playing games with national unity and promoting the enemies of amalgamation. Revisionists are propagandists, masters of dogma, and promoters of falsehood and lies. They deliver their narratives in convenient short-hand formats and through rumours. Many of the young men today who are clamouring for secession have never read the history of the civil war; they are victims of a false single story, which says other Nigerians do not like Igbos. The Yoruba landlord who does not want an Igbo tenant may not have heard that Igbos once represented Yorubas in parliament, or that Igbos have always been strong stakeholders in Lagos politics - all he knows is that silly story that Igbo tenants take their landlords to court, as if Yoruba tenants don't do the same.
Those young men and women who allow themselves to be turned into foot-soldiers by Pastors and Imams, and who turn religion into a vehicle of violence have never been taught that those who did the same in the past in this same country got gunned down. Those religious groups who take over the highways and our streets, claiming they are holding a special revival or a procession, and who do not care about the rights of other road users and citizens have probably never read stories about the tension generated by such encounters between the state and religion. They all do not know that turning religion and ethnicity into enemies of the Nigerian state will ordinarily attract dire consequences because the state has a responsibility to allow freedom of expression but also an equal responsibility to prevent any form of abuse. By the same token, those trigger-happy security men who indulge in extra-judicial murder, have never read how such conduct indeed violates the dignity of the state, and sets a condition for the failure of government and state.
The historical sociology of the Nigerian condition points to much repetitiveness of social and political conduct with very little change in capacity to manage same, from the colonial period to the present. Those who ignore history and fail to learn from it are bound to repeat it. And so, we keep repeating the same errors because we forget too easily. The process of national re-orientation must include a promotion of our history for national development purposes. It is not enough to admit that some of the worst fanatics using religion and ethnicity to threaten national integration are university graduates: this indicates a great omission in the curriculum; in form of the failure to use the education system to produce Nigerians who are first and foremost citizens with loyalty to country.
Sunday, December 13, 2015
Great Ife and the Failure of the Gown by Reuben Abati
Friday, December 11, 2015
Who released, killed and ate our lion? by Reuben Abati
Jos Zoo Dead Lion |
“Bush meat?”
“The lion in the zoo that became bush meat in Jos”
“What’s my own inside? I don’t know any zoo worker in Jos and how could a lion that was allowed out of its cage and got shot end up in my stomach. The kind of things you say sometimes.”
“That means you have not been following the story.”
“It is an animal tale”
“Created, concocted and delivered by animals in human skin, working in animal kingdom, telling us animal tales. What surprises me is the fact that there has been no public uproar, no outrage.”
“People are too busy thinking of how to survive as human beings, how to fight the current nationwide epidemic of empty pockets and stomachs, and survive the change in their lives.”
“But when a similar incident occurred at the Hwange National Park in Zimbabwe, there was serious outrage all over the world. Dr. Palmer, the American who killed the lion was the target of abuse and attacks. He even had to shut down his dental office. There were calls for his prosecution.”
“I know. In our case, the international community is indifferent. It is as if nothing has happened. A lion was killed in Zimbabwe; there was protest. A few days ago in Kenya, two Maasai herdsmen were charged for poisoning a lion.A lion is killed in Nigeria, not a whimper.“