See some sections of the Bayelsa International Airport.
Saturday 9 November 2019
See some sections of the Bayelsa International Airport
See some sections of the Bayelsa International Airport.
OBROMA: THE STORY OF THE IJAW DECAYING FISH DELICACY
OBROMA: THE STORY OF THE IJAW DECAYING FISH DELICACY
My entire childhood was spent in my Ijaw native land. The period was spent oscillating homes between my paternal Ogulagha and my maternal Tuomo hometown both in Burutu Local Government Area of Delta State.
I was barely 6 years old when my mother left her husband’s house at Ogulagha for her native home, Tuomo taking me and my younger siblings Pereke and Ebi along with her while my elder brother, Roland came under the care of my maternal uncle, Okoro. A voyage with my mum that made me spend about 9 years of my childhood at my maternal Tuomo Town.
The reason why we changed location according to Roland was a mutual agreement between our parents for my dad, Robert a soft spoken lanky and exceptionally handsome man to sojourn to Portharcourt to work and make ends meet for the family and my mum to relocate with us to stay with her parents until fortune would smile at us again. A decision that has deprived us the opportunity to live under thesame roof as a family till date.
Perhaps you will learn more about the struggles of my parents to make ends meet in my subsequent editions; as I promise to share with you more stories of my life as often as possible.
Today, I am simply thrilled, with nostalgia when I remember how we travelled on a local boat for several hours on our way to Warri thereafter took a land trip to Tuomo. In this piece, I have chosen to write about a special delicacy of my native land. It is probably unique to the Ijaws of Nigeria and most of our coastal dwellers.
Life in Tuomo was full of adventures for me. I intend to share with you from time to time, stories of such escapades that were the very essence of any rural community life, as much as my memory can recall. The story I have chosen to share with you, about my life is that of a special meal made with ‘’decaying’’ fish.
Yes, you may be right if you are apprehensive and wonder why one should feast on decaying fish: To consume such an odoriferous meal can only be driven by poverty. In Tuomo, we were poor even though we almost always had enough food to eat; even in poverty at the time, I can boldly say the craving for the special fish meal was not entirely actuated by poverty, as my grandmother, Miyenbranimugha; Nuanua as she is popularly called was one of the luckiest and biggest fish farmers in Tuomo at the time. She was a traditional worshipper. Her level of success in fish farming tempted me to think that she might have had an unwritten pact with water goddesses which she worshipped with passion and devotion. She was usually blessed with catch of fishes. With the passage of time and as I grew older, I came to realize that she had no pact with any water goddess. Rather, she was just a skilled fish farmer who understood water seasons and the fish harvest that came with them. She was dedicated and successful. In due course, the story of my grandmother and her astonishing and remarkable career in fishing, and fishing trade shall be narrated in fuller details.
We lived in a large house, built in the best tradition of rural architecture of the time. It was a priced-possession of my adventurous maternal grandfather- Ogbodane (papa Donia). He had a liking for christening or naming his children with the names of towns where they were born. They were towns he visited or lived in during his many travels and sojourns across Nigeria and beyond. That is why my mother, Edith is also called Accra-ere, that is, the woman from Accra; perhaps as a reminder of his journey to Acrra. In the course of time, however, Akara-ere became the local adaptation of her name.
Papa Donia’s house was big with several rooms. Some of his wives and their children lived in some of them, and his grown up children, cousins and their families, amongst several other relatives, lived in others. We were a very large family. Whenever my grandmother or the other women had a major catch in their fish business, they ensured that they shared to everyone to prepare meals for their children.
My first lessons in business were on the streets of Tuomo. With a big tray full variety of fish which were arranged in equal quantity, were offered for fixed prices. I often went about in town chanting ‘’endi bo de’’ which means ‘’fish has come’’ or ‘’abo endi fe o’’, meaning come and buy fish. Usually and in no time, I quickly ended up selling out my stock, and at other times it could take several hours to exhaust my stock. It sometimes happen that as I was gripped with celebratory excitement after a successful run of sales, I would lose the entire proceeds and I would run to my grandmother to seek refuge from the fury of my mother. In the alternative, I could go to my grand uncle, Isaiah Okpokunou to take refuge in his home.
Uncle Isaiah was a former military personnel who turned a pig and plant farmer upon his retirement from the force. He was famous amongst my age grade as a brave soldier. He always provided refuge for my cousins and I whenever we did anything wrong and terrible and were too scared to return home: Even, it could also be whenever we wanted some time to explore the rivers and bushes freely without any serious restrictions. I remember on one occasion I had to stay with him and his family for over a month after I escaped from my mother’s fury. He had an equally adventurous son, Odinna (now Jackson). I was very fond of him probably because he was often at the frontline of creating adventures like swimming, wrestling, playing football, bird hunting with catapult, group battles with sticks forest trips, bolingo, etc.
Yes, fish was never a problem, as my grandmother and other women made sure we had well-crafted native baskets called “gide” filled with smoked fish. There were also several plastic drums often filled with fresh fish to stock, to cushion the out-of-season scarcity. Sometimes, such stock reserve of fish could last up to four months if properly managed.
In Tuomo at that time, no fish was wasted no matter its condition, decaying fish was not spared. It is usually used to prepare a special delicacy I have chosen to refer to as “obroma” in this piece.
It is usually prepared by putting the decayed fish in a pot with very little or no water to which are added large quantity of pepper, some seasoning cubes and salt. The pot is thereafter closed and placed on fire until it is very dry. The combination is stirred with a spoon until the only thing that was left, though looked like fish, but in reality were mere bones. The flesh turns into a porridge-like blend, releasing a unique aroma to the delight of the cook, and making many others to salivate while awaiting their shares from the dish. For maximum satisfaction, this is eaten with well-prepared kobu-geri that is an heated blend of garri mixed with palm oil.
This was the preferred meal of the many adults in the Igede, that is, the extended family quarter. Sometimes, they ate directly from the pot, each person focusing on the taste and oblivious of the stench that occasionally oozed from the pot. They licked their fingers as though they just had the best meal in the entire world.
I had my fair share of such moments when I also enjoyed the special delicacy. Till date, I still crave for Obroma delicacy with Kobu-geri. That is the magnetism in Obroma of the Ijaw people.
Moral Lessons:
In life, we must never discount the utility of anything. What might otherwise be seen as beyond redemption could turn out to be useful if only an imaginative value is added to make it beneficial to mankind.
While in Tuomo, I learnt that whenever circumstances are in the hand of the right person to determine, everything can turn beautiful. Whatever is old in your hands today may be new in the hands of those who had never had the opportunity to have it. A relationship which you think has nothing to offer might be the craving of many others, who may be ready go through the fire to make it work if only they had your partner as theirs.
There is good in everything if only we apply the right perspectives to make it to meet our tastes and quench our cravings.
Obroma delicacy may be from a decaying fish, it was nevertheless the only dish we had to cling unto for survival at some very critical period while growing up.
I am Victor Isereke (Veekite)
The Ogulagha Boy
Veekite1@gmail.com
Writing From Obuguru Community in Delta State
9/10/19
NEXT STORY:
Osene Agege Apede: The story of my Premature Birth
My entire childhood was spent in my Ijaw native land. The period was spent oscillating homes between my paternal Ogulagha and my maternal Tuomo hometown both in Burutu Local Government Area of Delta State.
I was barely 6 years old when my mother left her husband’s house at Ogulagha for her native home, Tuomo taking me and my younger siblings Pereke and Ebi along with her while my elder brother, Roland came under the care of my maternal uncle, Okoro. A voyage with my mum that made me spend about 9 years of my childhood at my maternal Tuomo Town.
The reason why we changed location according to Roland was a mutual agreement between our parents for my dad, Robert a soft spoken lanky and exceptionally handsome man to sojourn to Portharcourt to work and make ends meet for the family and my mum to relocate with us to stay with her parents until fortune would smile at us again. A decision that has deprived us the opportunity to live under thesame roof as a family till date.
Perhaps you will learn more about the struggles of my parents to make ends meet in my subsequent editions; as I promise to share with you more stories of my life as often as possible.
Today, I am simply thrilled, with nostalgia when I remember how we travelled on a local boat for several hours on our way to Warri thereafter took a land trip to Tuomo. In this piece, I have chosen to write about a special delicacy of my native land. It is probably unique to the Ijaws of Nigeria and most of our coastal dwellers.
Life in Tuomo was full of adventures for me. I intend to share with you from time to time, stories of such escapades that were the very essence of any rural community life, as much as my memory can recall. The story I have chosen to share with you, about my life is that of a special meal made with ‘’decaying’’ fish.
Yes, you may be right if you are apprehensive and wonder why one should feast on decaying fish: To consume such an odoriferous meal can only be driven by poverty. In Tuomo, we were poor even though we almost always had enough food to eat; even in poverty at the time, I can boldly say the craving for the special fish meal was not entirely actuated by poverty, as my grandmother, Miyenbranimugha; Nuanua as she is popularly called was one of the luckiest and biggest fish farmers in Tuomo at the time. She was a traditional worshipper. Her level of success in fish farming tempted me to think that she might have had an unwritten pact with water goddesses which she worshipped with passion and devotion. She was usually blessed with catch of fishes. With the passage of time and as I grew older, I came to realize that she had no pact with any water goddess. Rather, she was just a skilled fish farmer who understood water seasons and the fish harvest that came with them. She was dedicated and successful. In due course, the story of my grandmother and her astonishing and remarkable career in fishing, and fishing trade shall be narrated in fuller details.
We lived in a large house, built in the best tradition of rural architecture of the time. It was a priced-possession of my adventurous maternal grandfather- Ogbodane (papa Donia). He had a liking for christening or naming his children with the names of towns where they were born. They were towns he visited or lived in during his many travels and sojourns across Nigeria and beyond. That is why my mother, Edith is also called Accra-ere, that is, the woman from Accra; perhaps as a reminder of his journey to Acrra. In the course of time, however, Akara-ere became the local adaptation of her name.
Papa Donia’s house was big with several rooms. Some of his wives and their children lived in some of them, and his grown up children, cousins and their families, amongst several other relatives, lived in others. We were a very large family. Whenever my grandmother or the other women had a major catch in their fish business, they ensured that they shared to everyone to prepare meals for their children.
My first lessons in business were on the streets of Tuomo. With a big tray full variety of fish which were arranged in equal quantity, were offered for fixed prices. I often went about in town chanting ‘’endi bo de’’ which means ‘’fish has come’’ or ‘’abo endi fe o’’, meaning come and buy fish. Usually and in no time, I quickly ended up selling out my stock, and at other times it could take several hours to exhaust my stock. It sometimes happen that as I was gripped with celebratory excitement after a successful run of sales, I would lose the entire proceeds and I would run to my grandmother to seek refuge from the fury of my mother. In the alternative, I could go to my grand uncle, Isaiah Okpokunou to take refuge in his home.
Uncle Isaiah was a former military personnel who turned a pig and plant farmer upon his retirement from the force. He was famous amongst my age grade as a brave soldier. He always provided refuge for my cousins and I whenever we did anything wrong and terrible and were too scared to return home: Even, it could also be whenever we wanted some time to explore the rivers and bushes freely without any serious restrictions. I remember on one occasion I had to stay with him and his family for over a month after I escaped from my mother’s fury. He had an equally adventurous son, Odinna (now Jackson). I was very fond of him probably because he was often at the frontline of creating adventures like swimming, wrestling, playing football, bird hunting with catapult, group battles with sticks forest trips, bolingo, etc.
Yes, fish was never a problem, as my grandmother and other women made sure we had well-crafted native baskets called “gide” filled with smoked fish. There were also several plastic drums often filled with fresh fish to stock, to cushion the out-of-season scarcity. Sometimes, such stock reserve of fish could last up to four months if properly managed.
In Tuomo at that time, no fish was wasted no matter its condition, decaying fish was not spared. It is usually used to prepare a special delicacy I have chosen to refer to as “obroma” in this piece.
It is usually prepared by putting the decayed fish in a pot with very little or no water to which are added large quantity of pepper, some seasoning cubes and salt. The pot is thereafter closed and placed on fire until it is very dry. The combination is stirred with a spoon until the only thing that was left, though looked like fish, but in reality were mere bones. The flesh turns into a porridge-like blend, releasing a unique aroma to the delight of the cook, and making many others to salivate while awaiting their shares from the dish. For maximum satisfaction, this is eaten with well-prepared kobu-geri that is an heated blend of garri mixed with palm oil.
This was the preferred meal of the many adults in the Igede, that is, the extended family quarter. Sometimes, they ate directly from the pot, each person focusing on the taste and oblivious of the stench that occasionally oozed from the pot. They licked their fingers as though they just had the best meal in the entire world.
I had my fair share of such moments when I also enjoyed the special delicacy. Till date, I still crave for Obroma delicacy with Kobu-geri. That is the magnetism in Obroma of the Ijaw people.
Moral Lessons:
In life, we must never discount the utility of anything. What might otherwise be seen as beyond redemption could turn out to be useful if only an imaginative value is added to make it beneficial to mankind.
While in Tuomo, I learnt that whenever circumstances are in the hand of the right person to determine, everything can turn beautiful. Whatever is old in your hands today may be new in the hands of those who had never had the opportunity to have it. A relationship which you think has nothing to offer might be the craving of many others, who may be ready go through the fire to make it work if only they had your partner as theirs.
There is good in everything if only we apply the right perspectives to make it to meet our tastes and quench our cravings.
Obroma delicacy may be from a decaying fish, it was nevertheless the only dish we had to cling unto for survival at some very critical period while growing up.
I am Victor Isereke (Veekite)
The Ogulagha Boy
Veekite1@gmail.com
Writing From Obuguru Community in Delta State
9/10/19
NEXT STORY:
Osene Agege Apede: The story of my Premature Birth
Friday 8 November 2019
The making of Greystone Towers, Victoria Island, Lagos
A couple of years back, Chief Dumo Lulu-Briggs birthed Platform Petroleum Limited and in the course of set up and acquisitions, a property was acquired on Victoria Island.
Lulu-Briggs planned to set up a befitting 15 floor Corporate Headquarters for the firm but his enthusiasm was shot down, when the Town Planing authorities told them that permits will only be granted for nothing less than 19 floors (Storeys).
This reinforces our belief that a government can determine to a great extent the outcomes in its community or pattern of urbanization.
Dumo Lulu-Briggs and his team took up the challenge and the project named Greystone Towers on Idowu Taylor, Victoria Island, Lagos is the result of the plan.
It is the tallest on that street but the Total-fina building at 28 floors still holds the ace in Lagos.
It is refreshing to Port Harcourt people that a Port Harcourt boy is involved in a mega project that is not government related.
Adjust your dreams and aspirations accordingly.
Source: Eugene Abels
Lulu-Briggs planned to set up a befitting 15 floor Corporate Headquarters for the firm but his enthusiasm was shot down, when the Town Planing authorities told them that permits will only be granted for nothing less than 19 floors (Storeys).
This reinforces our belief that a government can determine to a great extent the outcomes in its community or pattern of urbanization.
Dumo Lulu-Briggs and his team took up the challenge and the project named Greystone Towers on Idowu Taylor, Victoria Island, Lagos is the result of the plan.
It is the tallest on that street but the Total-fina building at 28 floors still holds the ace in Lagos.
It is refreshing to Port Harcourt people that a Port Harcourt boy is involved in a mega project that is not government related.
Adjust your dreams and aspirations accordingly.
Source: Eugene Abels
NDDC: The devils in the Niger Delta
NDDC: The devils in the Niger Delta
Mr. Godwin Omene, was the first MD of the Niger Delta Development Commission (NDDC), the Niger Delta Regional Development Master Plan was initiated and developed by GTZ and this provided a very comprehensive plan of how the region can be developed across various sectors, little did we know that It will uprooted and thrown away and a looting spree will be initiated
How does the NDDC make money?
Two major sources
(a) from the Federal Government, the equivalent of 15 percent of the total monthly statutory allocations due to member States of the Commission from the Federation Account; this being the contribution of the, Federal Government to the Commission
(b) 3 percent of the total annual budget of any oil producing company operating, on shore and off shore, in the Niger-Delta Area; including gas processing companies.
This is where the blood money is, Imagine
Shell,Total,Agip,NLNG, etc paying 3% of its total annual Budget to the NDDC?
JUST IMAGINE!
From the Ministry of Finance: Budgetary Allocation to NDDC, Naira in Billion
2004: 14.00
2005: 28.80
2006: 26.13
2007: 24.00
2008: 40.57
2009: 27.13
2010: 46.49
2011: 55.08
2012: 48.67
2013: 61.35
2014: 61.94
2015: 46.72
2016: 41.05
2017: 64.02
2018: 81.88
2019: 100.19
2020: 80.88
N769bn uptill 2019(2004-2019), Yet to find 2000-2004.
Ibe Kachukwu said Over $40b was paid from 2006-2016 to the NDDC and states in the Niger Delta region for it's 13% deriavative.
However If you add the contributions from the Oil companies to the NDDC, You will have trillions of Naira yet We have over 12,000 abandoned projects that requires 3 trillion Naira to complete without a peculiar signature project.
One consultant makes N1b monthly just to collect these monies from these Oil companies meanwhile NDDC has an account with CBN that These companies can pay into directly.
Another company collect 3%of the total sum generated by the consultant before the money is paid to NDDC
NDDC has been in existence for over 19 years yet It still pays rent of over 200m every yearly as Rent with possibility of an increase next year. It is yet to complete its own office at eastern by pass in Port Harcourt, Big NDDC na still Tenant.
The Senate is currently investigating How N2.5b was budgeted for water hycainth project and The commission ended up spending N65b
One Man had over 50 of these projects to himself
In another instance, Over 56 register companies have been traced to one man with 313 contracts to allocated and awarded to him with 120 fully paid for and He has not mobilized to any of the sites.
Over the years, NDDC has proven that It is an ATM machine without pin
Another example
a. N3.39 billion was awarded to a company for Sandfilling and Shore protection of Ogu Town ended up costing N8.133 billion, a whopping 230% increment.
b. Construction of Isielu-Okaigbene Idungboko road awarded for N2.35 billion ended up at N3.73 billion, increased by 160%. Construction of (the same) Isielu-Okaigbene Idungboko road was to another company again for N585 million and ended up at N3.67 billion, an increase of 620%.
c. Construction of Ikot Ukap Ndiya internal roads in Nsit Ubium LGA awarded for N1.2 billion ended up at N2.86 billion, an increase of 235%.
These are just the few out of thousands
This is why we have many abandoned projects and owed contractors. The money that should execute projects were inflated into others
We can not continue to feed a few and starve many
Go to Creeks where the Oil is situated and you will weep
Let the deep forensic audit be carried out, where are they going to get 3 trillion from to clear the mess?
This madness must stop
Mr. Godwin Omene, was the first MD of the Niger Delta Development Commission (NDDC), the Niger Delta Regional Development Master Plan was initiated and developed by GTZ and this provided a very comprehensive plan of how the region can be developed across various sectors, little did we know that It will uprooted and thrown away and a looting spree will be initiated
How does the NDDC make money?
Two major sources
(a) from the Federal Government, the equivalent of 15 percent of the total monthly statutory allocations due to member States of the Commission from the Federation Account; this being the contribution of the, Federal Government to the Commission
(b) 3 percent of the total annual budget of any oil producing company operating, on shore and off shore, in the Niger-Delta Area; including gas processing companies.
This is where the blood money is, Imagine
Shell,Total,Agip,NLNG, etc paying 3% of its total annual Budget to the NDDC?
JUST IMAGINE!
From the Ministry of Finance: Budgetary Allocation to NDDC, Naira in Billion
2004: 14.00
2005: 28.80
2006: 26.13
2007: 24.00
2008: 40.57
2009: 27.13
2010: 46.49
2011: 55.08
2012: 48.67
2013: 61.35
2014: 61.94
2015: 46.72
2016: 41.05
2017: 64.02
2018: 81.88
2019: 100.19
2020: 80.88
N769bn uptill 2019(2004-2019), Yet to find 2000-2004.
Ibe Kachukwu said Over $40b was paid from 2006-2016 to the NDDC and states in the Niger Delta region for it's 13% deriavative.
However If you add the contributions from the Oil companies to the NDDC, You will have trillions of Naira yet We have over 12,000 abandoned projects that requires 3 trillion Naira to complete without a peculiar signature project.
One consultant makes N1b monthly just to collect these monies from these Oil companies meanwhile NDDC has an account with CBN that These companies can pay into directly.
Another company collect 3%of the total sum generated by the consultant before the money is paid to NDDC
NDDC has been in existence for over 19 years yet It still pays rent of over 200m every yearly as Rent with possibility of an increase next year. It is yet to complete its own office at eastern by pass in Port Harcourt, Big NDDC na still Tenant.
The Senate is currently investigating How N2.5b was budgeted for water hycainth project and The commission ended up spending N65b
One Man had over 50 of these projects to himself
In another instance, Over 56 register companies have been traced to one man with 313 contracts to allocated and awarded to him with 120 fully paid for and He has not mobilized to any of the sites.
Over the years, NDDC has proven that It is an ATM machine without pin
Another example
a. N3.39 billion was awarded to a company for Sandfilling and Shore protection of Ogu Town ended up costing N8.133 billion, a whopping 230% increment.
b. Construction of Isielu-Okaigbene Idungboko road awarded for N2.35 billion ended up at N3.73 billion, increased by 160%. Construction of (the same) Isielu-Okaigbene Idungboko road was to another company again for N585 million and ended up at N3.67 billion, an increase of 620%.
c. Construction of Ikot Ukap Ndiya internal roads in Nsit Ubium LGA awarded for N1.2 billion ended up at N2.86 billion, an increase of 235%.
These are just the few out of thousands
This is why we have many abandoned projects and owed contractors. The money that should execute projects were inflated into others
We can not continue to feed a few and starve many
Go to Creeks where the Oil is situated and you will weep
Let the deep forensic audit be carried out, where are they going to get 3 trillion from to clear the mess?
This madness must stop
WHERE IS YOUR WRAPPER?
WHERE IS YOUR WRAPPER?
Erelu Bisi Fayemi.
I was in Uganda a few years ago for one of the programs we used to run at the African Women’s Leadership Institute. One day, there was a report about something that had happened in one of the local markets. One of the women in the market went into labour unexpectedly.
It seemed there was no time to get her to a nearby hospital or clinic, so the women around went into action. Some of them ran around to look for basins, hot water, towels, and razors. A few held her hand and encouraged her to push.
Majority of the women around took out their wrappers and held them up, creating a protective ring around the woman, shielding her from prying eyes. Every now and then, this scenario plays itself in other markets around the continent, and the response is mostly the same – women bring out their wrappers to protect one of their own.
Sadly, this is no longer the case these days. Instead of wrappers coming out, it would be cell phones to record every graphic detail. Sure, help might still come, but not before the person concerned has all their pain and agony out there for all the world to see.
Recently, there was the case of a young woman in Ajah, Lagos, who was found wandering the streets. Reports on how she got there vary, but she was stark naked, extremely emaciated and incoherent. Instead of immediately rushing to help, covering her up and getting her medical attention, onlookers laughed at her, threw things at her and recorded her on their cell phones.
Without any idea of who she was or how she got there, judgements were made on the spot about her being the victim of ritualists which she must have brought on herself in her quest to make quick money. A good Samaritan, Keira Hewatch, stepped in and took her to the hospital. Even though many onlookers where not prepared to help the poor woman on the road, they tried to stop Keira from helping her, saying she too might be bewitched. Essentially, they refused to bring out their wrappers to protect and save someone and tried to stop someone else who was willing to bring out hers.
What do these wrappers signify? To me they mean protection, solidarity, sisterhood, empathy, kindness, compassion, duty, all those things and more that make us human beings. In the market places where the scene I described in Uganda happens, there is an unspoken protocol amongst the women – a responsibility to take care of one of their own who needs them. She is in pain. Afraid. But she has sisters around her, rooting for her and helping her.
So, I ask us my dear sisters, where is your wrapper? Where is your wrapper to shield and protect other women and girls who need you? Where was your wrapper for the little girl who was molested by someone in your household and you said ‘Shhhhh’ and looked the other way? Where was your wrapper when someone you know said she was raped by someone she trusted? Did you ask her what she was wearing? Or if she seduced him? Where was your wrapper when your friend needed succour from an abusive husband? Did you gossip behind her back that it served her right, she is too arrogant?
Where was your wrapper when your sister or daughter told you that her lecturers were harassing her in the University? Did you tell them that they must have done something to encourage them? Where was your wrapper when a young woman who could have been your own sister, daughter or niece was found on the streets naked? Where you one of the women who stood by and recorded her misery and threw things at her? Where you one of the men who tried to stop brave Keira from helping? What was in it for you to have a very sick woman die untended in broad daylight, with human beings baying for her blood like animals? Even animals care more for their own.
Our wrappers might all look different, with varying sizes, shapes and colours, but each and every one of us has a wrapper. Bring that wrapper out to shield another woman, or a man. Use it to help get her a contract, help with her rent, pay her children’s fees, help her with capital for a business or simply a discreet shoulder to cry on. Never let a day go by without bringing out that wrapper. The way God works is that the more wrappers you bring out for others, the more will come out for you. We don’t only need wrappers when we celebrate and buy Aso Ebi. We need the wrappers for our trials and tribulations and we all have them.
The women in the market place might never see the woman they helped again. She might never be able to say thank you. Yet she will never forget that other women stood by her and gave her dignity and covered her nakedness. Are we prepared to cover the nakedness of others, or do we want to be part of the mob that strips them naked?
These days there seems to be a war against women. Not only is sexual violence at an all time high, these crimes are now committed in full view of the public. A young woman is accused of stealing and stripped naked, hands all over her and objects being stuck into her. When this happens, what do we do, will we look the other way? When a woman is being harassed online, do we join in the abuse? The more wrappers we bring out, the safer we will all be. There is another conversation to be had with the men, with our male leaders, with those who have the powers and privileges that weaken our agency and make us forget that we have wrappers in the first place. Today, we are talking to and about ourselves.
Let us all agree to bring out our beautiful, strong, diverse wrappers. Our wrappers of respect, love, dignity, support and endless hope. Thank you for bringing out your wrapper Keira. God bless us all.
This is an expanded version of a brief speech that was given at the ARISE Women’s Conference in Lagos, October 26th, 2019.
Bisi Adeleye-Fayemi is a Gender Specialist, Social Entrepreneur and Writer. She is the Founder of Abovewhispers.com, an online community for women. She is currently the 1st Lady of Ekiti State. She can be reached at BAF@abovewhispers.com
Vanguard
Erelu Bisi Fayemi.
I was in Uganda a few years ago for one of the programs we used to run at the African Women’s Leadership Institute. One day, there was a report about something that had happened in one of the local markets. One of the women in the market went into labour unexpectedly.
It seemed there was no time to get her to a nearby hospital or clinic, so the women around went into action. Some of them ran around to look for basins, hot water, towels, and razors. A few held her hand and encouraged her to push.
Majority of the women around took out their wrappers and held them up, creating a protective ring around the woman, shielding her from prying eyes. Every now and then, this scenario plays itself in other markets around the continent, and the response is mostly the same – women bring out their wrappers to protect one of their own.
Sadly, this is no longer the case these days. Instead of wrappers coming out, it would be cell phones to record every graphic detail. Sure, help might still come, but not before the person concerned has all their pain and agony out there for all the world to see.
Recently, there was the case of a young woman in Ajah, Lagos, who was found wandering the streets. Reports on how she got there vary, but she was stark naked, extremely emaciated and incoherent. Instead of immediately rushing to help, covering her up and getting her medical attention, onlookers laughed at her, threw things at her and recorded her on their cell phones.
Without any idea of who she was or how she got there, judgements were made on the spot about her being the victim of ritualists which she must have brought on herself in her quest to make quick money. A good Samaritan, Keira Hewatch, stepped in and took her to the hospital. Even though many onlookers where not prepared to help the poor woman on the road, they tried to stop Keira from helping her, saying she too might be bewitched. Essentially, they refused to bring out their wrappers to protect and save someone and tried to stop someone else who was willing to bring out hers.
What do these wrappers signify? To me they mean protection, solidarity, sisterhood, empathy, kindness, compassion, duty, all those things and more that make us human beings. In the market places where the scene I described in Uganda happens, there is an unspoken protocol amongst the women – a responsibility to take care of one of their own who needs them. She is in pain. Afraid. But she has sisters around her, rooting for her and helping her.
So, I ask us my dear sisters, where is your wrapper? Where is your wrapper to shield and protect other women and girls who need you? Where was your wrapper for the little girl who was molested by someone in your household and you said ‘Shhhhh’ and looked the other way? Where was your wrapper when someone you know said she was raped by someone she trusted? Did you ask her what she was wearing? Or if she seduced him? Where was your wrapper when your friend needed succour from an abusive husband? Did you gossip behind her back that it served her right, she is too arrogant?
Where was your wrapper when your sister or daughter told you that her lecturers were harassing her in the University? Did you tell them that they must have done something to encourage them? Where was your wrapper when a young woman who could have been your own sister, daughter or niece was found on the streets naked? Where you one of the women who stood by and recorded her misery and threw things at her? Where you one of the men who tried to stop brave Keira from helping? What was in it for you to have a very sick woman die untended in broad daylight, with human beings baying for her blood like animals? Even animals care more for their own.
Our wrappers might all look different, with varying sizes, shapes and colours, but each and every one of us has a wrapper. Bring that wrapper out to shield another woman, or a man. Use it to help get her a contract, help with her rent, pay her children’s fees, help her with capital for a business or simply a discreet shoulder to cry on. Never let a day go by without bringing out that wrapper. The way God works is that the more wrappers you bring out for others, the more will come out for you. We don’t only need wrappers when we celebrate and buy Aso Ebi. We need the wrappers for our trials and tribulations and we all have them.
The women in the market place might never see the woman they helped again. She might never be able to say thank you. Yet she will never forget that other women stood by her and gave her dignity and covered her nakedness. Are we prepared to cover the nakedness of others, or do we want to be part of the mob that strips them naked?
These days there seems to be a war against women. Not only is sexual violence at an all time high, these crimes are now committed in full view of the public. A young woman is accused of stealing and stripped naked, hands all over her and objects being stuck into her. When this happens, what do we do, will we look the other way? When a woman is being harassed online, do we join in the abuse? The more wrappers we bring out, the safer we will all be. There is another conversation to be had with the men, with our male leaders, with those who have the powers and privileges that weaken our agency and make us forget that we have wrappers in the first place. Today, we are talking to and about ourselves.
Let us all agree to bring out our beautiful, strong, diverse wrappers. Our wrappers of respect, love, dignity, support and endless hope. Thank you for bringing out your wrapper Keira. God bless us all.
This is an expanded version of a brief speech that was given at the ARISE Women’s Conference in Lagos, October 26th, 2019.
Bisi Adeleye-Fayemi is a Gender Specialist, Social Entrepreneur and Writer. She is the Founder of Abovewhispers.com, an online community for women. She is currently the 1st Lady of Ekiti State. She can be reached at BAF@abovewhispers.com
Vanguard
Thursday 7 November 2019
Urban Life experience
Urban Life will be our focus going forward for some weeks. More and more people are moving to live in Urban areas and it is appropriate for us to pay attention to those things make urban living awful and those that needs to be done in enhancing living experience, especially, in developing countries.
Tomorrow, we will be reporting events as witnessed in Port Harcourt, Rivers State, Nigeria.
Tomorrow, we will be reporting events as witnessed in Port Harcourt, Rivers State, Nigeria.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)