Bitcoins And Plastic Rice

"Guy how far?" 

"Boss I dey o. How your side."

"Na you be boss o. I dey look up to you. Nothing much dey happen. Holiday tinz on a low key."

"Who you dey whine. You wey be boss. Omo this harmattan no be hear o."

"Leave harmattan first. It comes and goes. Let's talk business. Have you heard the latest?"

 "I listened to the network news last night, there wasn't anything different from the usual updates. So what's the latest?" 

 "Just guess" 

"Have that unfreezed mavro? "

" No. They said till January 14th. Guess again."

"You know I'm not good at guessing. So spill, else I continue going where I'm going, maybe if I come back, I'll continue guessing."

"Okay. You sef. Well, It's bitcoins. Heard of it? "

" Ermm, not exactly. I've been hearing people talk about it but honestly, I know nothing about it.  What is it all about?"

"It's a digital currency. One can use it to carry out international transactions seamlessly without having to go through rigorous bank procedures."

"Hmmm. So how does that affect the price of Agege bread? How does bitcoins concern me? You know I'm a local trader and I earn in Naira. So...?"

"Bryan Tracy said one shouldn't depend on one source of income. Robert Kiyosaki further explains the need for investment through his E.B.S.I quadrant..."

"Leave theory abeg. Who theory epp?  Just tell me why I should invest in bitcoins, and when I'll get  back my capital."

"I'm only telling you this as a friend. It's not as if I stand to gain anything if you invest in it not."

"Oya no vex. Teach me. You know say you be my oga."

"See ehn, this bitcoins is appreciating almost on daily basis. Three months ago, 1btc was equal to N270000, today 1btc equals N460000."

"Oh boy!"

"You've not seen anything yet. The price surge started after Trump won. As at last week Tuesday, 1btc was equal to 760USD, today, 1btc is equal to 930USD. You can google it."

"Hmmm. This is serious. That means, one can buy this bitcoins, stock it and sell when it appreciates and make cool dough. Soft work."

"Yes. But you must watch it, it's a volatile currency and depends on market demand. The good news is, the demand is on a steady rise as countries are adopting crypto-currencies. I heard CBN is delibating on introducing it formally into the country. In fact, it is predicted that by the end January 2017, 1btc will equal 1000USD"

"But ehn, I'm afraid o. Since you said it's a universal currency, it might be the apocalypse thing the Bible prophesied about in the book of Revelations. "

"Hahaha. You're funny and skeptical. I didn't say it's a universal currency. I said it's a digital currency. Crypto-currency, better put."

"Okay o. If I come back we'd discuss more about it. I'm in a haste. "

" No qualms. Where are you heading to? "

"I'm going to the market to see if I can buy a bag of rice."

"Alright. The festivity didn't affect the price of rice as there were more supply, supplies including plastic rice. So be careful not to buy plastic rice o."

"Which one is plastic rice again? There nothing one will not hear in this country."

"I thought you said you have been listening to news. Don't you find plastic rice unusual?"

"See this one o, you think I don't listen to news? We've not had light for some time. I don't even know about the plastic rice thing. Let alone finding it unusual. Tell me more."

"Well, in summary it's a synthetic-fake-adulterated rice shipped in from China. It's not the normal rice that is grown biologically in farms. This one is manufactured using nonbiodegradable plastic materials and it is dangerous to the health."

"People are wicked o. How can someone produce such for human consumption? How can someone import such into the country? What are the custom officers doing? 

So how can I differentiate between plastic rice and normal Thailand or Malaysia rice?"

"It boils down to greed my friend. They must have bribed the custom officials. Well, to differentiate, you can put samples of the rice in a bowl of water. If it sinks, then it's normal. If it floats then it's plastic. Or better still, buy Ofada rice. Buy made in Nigeria."

"I heard the Ofada rice is now making sense."

"Yeah. So I heard. I also heard it has better nutritional benefits."

"You mean you've not tasted Ofada rice?"

"I can't remember. You're running late right? We'll discuss more when you come back."

"Alright bro. When I come back, we'll discuss more about bitcoins."

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Zarfund The New Online Scheme.

The name of the company is ZARFUND - Where Wealth is Predictable and It was founded by a South African named Harnnes Jordaan. 

ZARFUND is a Person-To-Person Direct Donation Platform.

The system was designed in such a way that it can be used by Fundraisers, such as Charities, Schools, Clubs, non-profits, family, and personal financial needs etc.

The donations are NOT collected by the Administrator, nor are they automated by the system, rather donations are sent directly and personally from one member to another member, from one member’s Bitcoin Wallet to another member’s Bitcoin Wallet. The donations are done voluntarily by the members without the administrators' directives. 

What are the risk factors? 

The only way you will run zarfund at a loss is if you do not get two referrals. 

Your money is kept in your bitcoin wallet that is different from zarfund. So if anything should happen to zarfund and it folds up (highly unlikely), your money is intact in your bitcoin wallet. 

What makes zarfund scam proof?

The fact that there is no central account where donations are made coupled with fact that no administrator assigns donations makes it scam free. 

How quick can I start earning? 

You earn your first money N17000 or $36 by getting two referrals. You upliners can feed you with new referrals because there is a maximum of two direct referrals for anyone. So if you can't get a referral, it is advisable to join a good team. 

Zarfund is new and rapidly growing, it's advisable not to procrastinate on your decision. 

Here is a  step by step guide on how to start ZarFund:

Pre-step: Go to https://blockchain.info/ register as a new user and SAVE your wallet ID AKA account number (a long string of text). That is what you will use to buy bitcoin and in most of your zarfund transactions. 

Step 1:

Send the donation amount PLUS a transactional fee (if any) to your upline’s Bitcoin wallet. You can find all the information about your sponsor (including his Bitcoin address) in the first Step on the Upgrade page.

Step 2:

Now, you need to “prove” that you’ve really sent the money to your sponsor. You can do that by providing the Hash ID of the transaction from the Step 1. In order to find that Hash ID, proceed as follows:

I. Go to https://blockchain.info/

II. Paste the address of your upline’s Bitcoin wallet in the search box, and click on the “Search” button.

III. Find your transaction on the next page, and copy a long string of characters (the Hash ID) that is “assigned” to that transaction.

III. Fill the Transaction Hash ID field on

ZarFund with the Hash ID that you’ve found on BlockChain.

IV. Click on “Submit”.

You can find your TX Hash number like this on Blockchain:

That’s it!

Your account will be upgraded once the system verifies the validity of your transaction (it should take up to an hour)!

Actually, you can upgrade to ANY level whenever you want. However, we strongly advise you to step up to the next level as soon as your current level has earned you enough money for moving up, as that’s the only way for you NOT to miss ANY donations from ALL of your referrals! In fact, bringing in just TWO active referrals who will proceed the same way you did will let your downline fill up very fast – and will qualify you for receiving up to a whole lot of 164 BTC every month!

For more clarification watch the video 

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Men Too Can Cook

I stepped into the compound of my residence, through the main gate,  and many thoughts about the day's event started aligning in my head. Somethings I thought were done perfectly and some others I thought would have been near perfect if a different course of action had been taken...  

But after taking few steps in the compound, and approaching the main building, my free flowing thought process was interrupted. I lost focus. My nostrils caught hold of a fine wave of tomato aroma. Tomato sauce frying gently in hot oil, mixed-up with other condiments that adds value to life. I couldn't say for sure if it was stew or jellof rice. But whatever it was, I thought, it smells great and it must taste great. The aroma was delicious to say the least. It could make a suicide bomber have a change of mind. 

I took another deep breath, I lost count of how many deep breaths I'd taken since I first picked the signals of tomato sauce and spices earlier on. Something wasn't quite clear, and that was the source of the delicious aroma. I began to do all the possible permutations and combinations. I have four neighbours living in four different flats. Two on either side of the building. One flat on the left side of the building had been under lock and key for days since the inhabitants went on vacation. Leaving only three possibilities: the flat I live in, the flat adjacent mine, and another at the left end of the building. The flat adjacent mine is occupied by bachelors. This rich aroma can never be from the bachelors' flat, I thought to myself. I'm not saying guys can't cook jellof rice or fry stew properly, but this particular sumptuous aroma is the job of a feminine specie, specialized with exceptional culinary endowments. With that injunction, I zeroed the possible source of the aroma to two locations. 

I got inside the building, and in the junction where the entrance led to a hallway. The two possible source of the aroma were on either side of the building. It was either left or right. If it was right, then it was no doubt from my flat because the bachelors can't pull off something of this magnitude. I could hear myself wish the aroma wasn't from the left side of the hallway. I turned rightwards, where my flat and the bachelors' were located. The aroma became richer and stronger with each step I took. It could only mean one thing. I was delighted. I hastened my steps. My mouth was already salivated. 

When I entered the parlour, and shut the door behind me, the aroma ceased to flow. It stopped. It disappeared just like good dream in the morning. I sniffed. I sniffed again but nothing perceived, nothing smelled. Instead of seeing stew or jellof, my gaze went straight to the tray on the table filled with beans that was being selected from chaff and stones. 

I was disappointed but I hid the expression. I changed my clothes quickly and decided to pay my neighbours an important August visit. I needed to acertain if a man was truly behind this atmospheric assault. When I got inside my bachelor friends' apartment, the parlour was redolent with the smell of tomato sauce and spices. The whole airspace was saturated and the sumptuous aroma permeated my skin. There was no doubt. This was the source and origin of the aroma. I walked past two guys busy playing Xbox and headed straight to the kitchen and behold Ejike was stirring the pot and sweating. 

When he saw me, he said I must taste his special food today. Yes, it was indeed a special delicacy. If it was the not so special delicacy, he wouldn't have summoned the courage to tell me I must have a taste. It took about twenty minutes for the food to be ready, albeit it seemed like four hours. Finally the food was ready and when I tasted it, I couldn't believe my tongue. I didn't stop eating until I emptied the plate. My goodness, it was finger-licking. I never knew guys could prepare a meal that delicious. 

What a woman can do, a man can do. 

Men too can cook. 

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Social Media Ills

Since Y2K, technology has recorded tremendous advancements. It has spread its tentacles across many platforms, and every sector in life have since registered colossal breakthroughs. One of the revolutionary introduction then, was the mobile phone. It was so unprecedented that people on the streets looked  with awe and wonder at someone who's making a phone call. Speaking to a handset device then seemed awkward, and as with every awkward deed, it attracted feasting eyes. 

Just like every other technological inventions, the mobile phone has undergone through its own evolutionary circle. From big phones with long antenna pole, to smaller ones without a pole, and back to big phones but this time, smarter ones. Somewhere in the circle of mobile phone evolution, social media was birthed. 

Social media has since then changed our lifestyle. It now seems awkward talking to someone on the street. It is so old fashioned. What are you doing, chatting with someone on the street? People will look at you with awe and wonder. What an archaic way to socialize. We now use terms like: I'll whatsapp you, I'll ping you, I'll snap chat you, I'll skype you... This new way of communication has made mobile phones more personal than personal computers. One hardly stays an hour without checking his smartphone - I'm a culprit. It is like a part of the human body - only independent. 

 Social networks have  connected us to people far from us, and distance us from people close to us. Talk about building bridges and walls. In family reunions for instance, you see family members glueing their eyes to their phone screens and their hands busy fingering their smart devices. Instead of holding chit chats with their loved ones whom they've not seen for over a year, two or even more. The only evidence of such reunion is the group selfies that ends up on social networks.

Aside from bridging fences and borders, another thing social media has done is eliminate the regard of social status or age. There are no code of ethics on social media, anybody can take shots at you. Irrespective of your social reputation, age or wealth; If you post a photo or a text on a subject, and it is misinterpreted, you get firsthand criticisms. More often than not, the criticisms escalates to feuds. Online beefs. Such is often the case when you post about sensitive subjects about religion, race and politics. 

Talk about politics. Politicians have taken to social media to spread their propaganda. They use it as as a very lethal weapon of mass deceit. The propagandists continue with their evangelism, even in the face of  clear contrary evidence. Lies are spread and truths covered; and the gullible swindled. 

Another ill of social media is the uncensorship of contents. On Facebook for instance, anything can appear on your homepage timeline. I mean anything. Good, bad and ugly. Even at that, what appears on the homepages are lesser evils compared to what are being circulated via inboxes - the most secret zone. 

The lack of authenticity of posts is worth mentioning here. So long as you can concoct an eye-catchy headline, and google a corresponding image, your post is likely to go viral, even if the story is fabricated. The idea is making the post eye-catching. The relevance or authenticity is not considered. 

I can't help but wonder how the younger generation of kids will adapt to life with a massive social media presence. Back then, parents protect their children from the influence of the outside world by confining their kids within the perimeter of their homes, of course with the exception of schools and religious gatherings. But today, things are different. Children nowadays, can reach the ends of the earth while in their rooms, without turning the door knob. New gen parents now have to take pragmatic approaches, different from that of yesteryears' to instil morality into their kids. 

I mean, there're several forces lurking around on social media that the underaged might be exposed. An instance, CNN reports that most terrorists recruitments are carried out through social media. In fact, the victims of social media brainwashing are not children alone but adults as well. To get an insight into what I'm talking about, visit the pages of any succession movements, anti religious/race groups, political parties... 

These are just  tad bits of the adverse effects of social media. There are many more negatives. It questions the moral decadence of the next generation. However, humanity will thrive as usual, there will be an adaptation, maybe in the form of social media bill or policing. I also believe notwithstanding, there will continue to be a balance of good and evil. 

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NEW SEASON RESOLUTION

Football is a beautiful game. We all know that right. Yet, most times, we permit sentiments to cloud our eyes. Which gives us only but a blurry vision of this beautiful game. Sentiment is emotional. It not only clouds one's eyes but one's judgement as well. I have observed, no matter how good a team plays, one doesn't appreciate such team's effort, simply because of sentiments.  Same reason, a Barcelona fan doesn't see the genius in Ronaldo. Same reason a die hard Madridsta will never agree Messi is a prime candidate for greatest-player-ever. 

This new season, I pledge to watch football without sentiments. Instead of wishing a team hard luck over the span of an hour and half match duration, I will rather wish the better team wins.  It doesn't make me any less a Chelsea fan. I simply need to appreciate the excellent round of football. 

I'll try as much not to beef rival teams. The likes of Leicester, Liverpool, Manchester clubs and Arsenal - a derby and rival team. Admittedly, the beef comes naturally. Expecially in league matches, where a rival's loss is another's gain. Also, naturally comes the soothing relief, when a rival team's loss complements my team's prior loss. 

However, according to my new philosophy, sentiments should be eliminated during the ninety minutes match interval. I'll stick to this philosophy regardless of my team's performance. This will be difficult, but I'll attempt. It is my new season resolution.

There are many great managers in this new EPL season, geniuses, you may say. They have come with their player-mercenaries. All gunning for one title. The English Premier League.  The competition promises to be very stiff. Very stiff!
Having said that, I don't expect Conte, Chelsea FC manager, to win the league. But if he does, I celebrate; if he doesn't, I'd say next season. I just hope Roman  doesn't axe him if the latter is the case.

Lest I forget, please and please. No one should remind me of last season's nightmare. This new season is as fresh as the morning wine. It needs no contamination in any capacity.

The weekends will henceforth change course. There will be lots of talking points. Lots of mind blowing moments. Lots of fun. The wait is over. EPL is here!

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SOME DAYS ARE LIKE THAT

After having a long and stressful day at work, I came back home, exhausted and hungry. Why must Mondays always be this mean?

Without pulling off my clothes, I swiftly dashed into the kitchen, from where my help cometh from.
I rolled up my sleeves, and washed my hands. Then I started inspecting the pots. The first pot was empty and clean, the second was empty and shining. Those were the only pots on the gas cooker. I had lost hope of finding any cooked solid food in the kitchen, but there was a voice, a tiny voice inside, telling me to check the pot on the floor beside the gas cooker. I was conservative of energy so instead of bending down to open the pot, I skeptically kicked it with one leg.  The thing made an empty barrel noise, turned and rolled freely in a semi circular path, dropping its cover along to reveal its empty content to my weary eyes. Damn!

Feeling disappointed, but optimistic,  I went over to the fridge.
At all at all I must see bread.
But surprisingly, there was no bread. Not even fruits or any food drink. Quite queer.
The items I saw in the fridge were: one bottle of salad cream, one opened tin tomato, fresh vegetable leaves and plenty sachet water. All well arranged in strategic positions that made the fridge look full, but to me the fridge was stark empty.

The tiny voice spoke up again. This time, it suggested I checked the freezer. I diligently opened the freezer and my eyes was fixated on a white bowl with a lid inscription: "Golden North  vanilla cream ...  1 litre... Keep refrigerated". Aha!

Alas! Something to quench the hunger and cool off the exhaustion. I didn't know how the ice cream got there or who kept it there, but this definitely wasn't the time to ask questions or seek answers.

I picked an iron spoon from the cutlery set, with which I'd use to murder the content of the ice cream, then I proceeded to the parlour.
I sat down and tried opening the ice cream lid. It was difficult to open initially, but after a hunger induced aggressive effort, the lid came off  and I saw iced-egusi soup inside the ice cream bowl. WTF!

My eyes practically popped out. Huh!

All these series of unlucky events must be orchestrated by someone, I thought. So I started looking out for hidden cameras. Maybe MTV base were trying to prank me.

I didn't find any hidden cameras, so I guess some days are like that.

Thanks for reading.
Happy new week.
Happy new month.

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Rain, spare my clothes

Mr. Rain or Ms. Rain, you need to stop for a while.

I understand perfectly that this is your season, but please stop the cry.

It is your turn to shine I know that prayer line, but please give the sun some space and time.

It is no big deal just a small tweak in weather and clime.

My washed clothes are many and wet and still on the line.

Making my wardrobe look scanty and dry.

Why don't you join the budget, the Girls and the Moon and go missing for sometime?

Rain: Because Nigerians would just the same, party and dine.

Then fall once a day or two, instead of continuous downpours every time.

I prefer you heavy and short to lengthy and light.

I also prefer you announce your coming with thunder and light.

But not too much of the former for fright.

I don't mean to give you instructions, I just want my clothes to be sultry and dry.

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Happy Fathers day

Fathers are the pillars of our families, and in a broader view, society. As the breadwinners by default, they act as the financier-in-chief of the family. Providing enough funds needed to school the kids, feed, clothe and shelter the family. Notwithstanding the state of the economy. In most cases, he is the first to leave the house for work and the last to come back,  not as a hobby, but a means by which he meets his primary fatherly responsibilities, which is providing the financial needs of the family.

But aside acting as the family's ATM,  fathers have over time, been the chief disciplinarian in most families. They instill morality and improve upon the ethics of the children. They take no bullshit at all. When you give them a bullshit, you get a bull's hit. Yes, they use the cane. But the reason in retrospect is more often than not, justified.

When they err, kids often find a way to hack into the heart of their mothers and go scot-free. But a father's heart is fortified with firewalls, you can't hack into it, play with their emotions and get around a crime unpunished. Even the mothers are well aware of this, sometimes when the child goes "out of gear", they threaten to report that child to the father. "Chiboy, so you don't want to wash your clothes, don't worry  your daddy will soon be back..." After that, as if under spell, Chiboy goes to wash his clothes pronto.

When you walk up to a kid in the street and try to hoodwink him/her into doing something wrong, you feel the father's discipline at play when s/he declines and responds:
"No, my dad will be mad at me"
Or when you ask a kid from the street I grew up in, the response is identical:
"No o, my Papa go shout"

The fear of the Father comes outrightly into play. It has subconsciously installed moral uprightness in the minds of such kid, even when eyes are not watching.

In a family where the father is up to par, a child dares not leave the house without permission and come back late at night. If by chance or maybe by sheer adventure the child leaves the house without permission, and fate hooks up with him in the form of traffic jam or something, and he or she is still late outside, the fear of the father will continue to taunt him or her from wherever, to the door of their apartment.

If you find a wayward kid in the street, look at the society of such kid but before then, look into the family and more specifically, the father.

The father's duty cannot be overemphasized, despite their  being strict and authoritative, they also find a balance by being affectionate and protective. It is not an easy role if you ask me.

Happy father's day to my dad and all the fathers out there.
Dads are amazing.
God bless my dad.

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Here Today Gone Tomorrow

Just this morning, we woke up to the news of the demise of Stephen Okechukwu Keshi. Yes, it happened. Unexpected and shocking as it might be. The nation's cup winner as a player and a coach is no more. He's gone.

Who do we hold accountable?
Is this the pact we signed up with life? Here today and gone tomorrow? Forever?

Incidents like this usually triggers off questions deep inside our minds.
Questions that paralyzes my thought.
Questions about Whys.
Why life?
Why death?
Why do bad things happen to good people?
Why do people live today and flourish, only to die tomorrow and be forgotten?
Why this? Why that?

Someone said, "people die only after they have fulfilled their destinies, or purposes in life"
I ask, what about the children that die young. They as well have fulfilled their destinies huh?  Or the infants that die few minutes after birth, perhaps their sole purpose or destiny in life was to cry.

Some months back, I lost a friend to a fire incident. This friend of mine (may his soul rest in peace) was a student of Medicine, and was about rounding off before the tragic incident. Was he not supposed to be a "destined" medical doctor, after passing through primary and secondary school, scaling through JAMB and post UTME and making painstaking efforts to meet the requirements in order to remain a student of Medicine?

Sadly, there are no answers to the many questions life throws at us, and for the reverence and fear we have, we cannot question the Almighty. But do we have questions? Yes, we sure do.  Even when we pretend not to, or are afraid to ask, the questions resides deep in our curious minds, and reoccur often only to be silenced.

King Solomon,  the wisest king in the Bible was faced with similar same life questions. Of which he concluded, "life is useless"  and in a different verse he wrote, "Here is what I have found out: the best thing we can do is eat and drink and enjoy what we have worked for during the short life that God has given us; this is our fate."

Indeed, it is truly a short life. No matter how long you live, you would be dead much longer. So, longevity alone doesn't mean we have led a meaningful life. Neither does the wealth we amass nor the accolades we are ascribed. The meaning of life is the meaning we give it. The smiles we put on the faces of each other, the happiness, the contentment, the reason to live through the uncertainties of life and hope.

We are here today, but we won't always be here. Someday we'll go, maybe tomorrow, maybe next. This is not the time when you say "fire" or "I reject it" or "it is not my portion". It is not a wise thing to say, well, neither is asking "unanswerable questions". It is best we do the good we can today, to do it now and every limited time the opportunity arises.

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The disparity between the rich and poor in Akwa ibom

The disparity between the rich and the poor in Akwa ibom.

The beautiful state of Akwa ibom is blessed with a rich  cultural heritage, fantastically peculiar language, diverse delicious delicacies, good road networks with street lights and artefacts that leaves envy etched on the faces of other states. Adorned with a mild weather and fertile land for tiling, sea for fishing and crude oil for export. It is a beautiful land flowing with sea and oil.
Hidden beneath the veil of beauty of the state is an ugliness between  the social classes. A great rift exist between the wealthy and the penniless in the oil rich state of Akwa ibom. Okay, Maybe penniless is too strong an adjective to describe those living below par in the state, it is not as if they are literally without a penny, but it does inject into ones consciousness, the wide margin that exists between the rich and the poor.

Just like most states in the country, the clime of Akwa ibom favours the rich. Equal tax rate is charged on both the rich and the poor, even when the revenue of the poor is nothing to write home about when compared to that of their rich counterparts. No extra tax on properties which are used to show affluence. A man can comfortably own five cars, one for each working day without paying taxes for any parking lot. The electricity billing rate is the same with the poor. No preference what so ever is meted on the low income earners. It is a case of equality as against equity.

But unlike other states in the country like Lagos, Akwa ibom doesn't provide a fair habitat for the coexistence of the rich and the poor. In Lagos for instance, there is a well developed transport scheme. Public transport buses of various sizes are readily plying the road, going to and fro  bus stop to bus stop. Such that, the poor without private cars can get to wherever they want within the state and beyond, at anytime and at a reasonable cost. On the contrary, such is not the case in the oil rich state. In Akwa ibom, the transport system is substandard, you don't get to see buses picking up and dropping passengers at different bus stops. What you get to see are parks where public cars load passengers. The snag with this type of transport scheme is that it is not cost effective. One gets to pay a fixed transport fare for the entire journey regardless of destination, even when one alights on the way, few distance from take off.

Also, one's  economic productivity is hampered by the fact that these public cars in parks are not readily available. A man who works in a bank can barely make it early to work without his private car because, when he comes to the park by 6.00 in the morning, he meets an empty park. When the early bird public car driver shows up by 7.00 or later, he wouldn't leave until the last passenger comes to fill up his car or cab as commonly called. On a mean day, it can take hours for the cab to be full with passengers. This stunts the economic growth of an Akwa-ibomite and is bore only by one side of the populace, the poor, while the rich cruise around in their private cars.

Corp members who by default do not fall into the class of the rich has deviced a means of survival. They cut their transport cost by "son son". "son son" is a lingo used among corp members to label free ride or free lift. In Ibibio, the predominant language in Akwa ibom, "son son" means thank you. When a corp member is given a free lift, s/he says "son son", to show courtesy and appreciation, hence the coinage "son son". So it is common to see corp members standing by the road side, flagging down private cars  going in their direction, in a bid to get "son son" (free lift).

The self esteem of these corp members, who are serving the country and live on a very low federal allowance is not in jeopardy,  there is no shame what so ever in them seeking "son son". The heart break, is seeing mature working class men and women in Akwa ibom, joining  corp members to stand by the roadside under the sun to seek "son son". Not only does it reduce the productivity of these men and women, who waste working time standing by the roadside for close to an hour or more, it tells clearly of the disparity between the rich and the poor. In terms of transportation, the poor who cannot afford private cars are handicapped.

The job opportunities in Akwa ibom are very minimal, it is unlike the south western or south eastern states where companies and factories are scattered  all over, providing job opportunities for both the skilled and unskilled labour, and rich and poor citizens alike. Majority of the minimal jobs available in Akwa ibom are concentrated in Uyo, the capital city. Not everyone can afford to live in Uyo, the house rents are exorbitant, cost of living is up the roof and beyond, favoring a habitat  for the rich. Even the poor who manage to cough out the money for the house rents are living from hand to mouth, without making any savings.

Youths without job are in the majority, they engage in unethical source of livelihood. The men engage in robbery and kidnapping, or just idle, drinking alcohol in local joints and gambling over draft, a local board game. While the men are at it, the women are engrossed in prostitution. Prostitution is so predominant in the state that it ranks tops in the country sex rating. In fact, some people regard the state as the land of sex. Myth has it that the high rate of sex is as a result of  the high rate of dog consumption. That, however is yet to be scientifically justified but technically, it is as a result of unemployment, suffered mostly by the poor in the society. A lot of girls, old and young engage in the act of loose sex, this has resulted in the low price for call girls, compared to other parts of the country, chiefly because the readily supply outweighs the demand.

To fill the void between the rich and the poor, the government needs to step in with a strong foot. There is need to have a dynamic taxing scheme that would be lenient on the low income earners. Furthermore, there is a dire need for youth empowerment. It is not enough for the youths to be educated, they need to be gainfully employed to keep them busy to curb prostitution and other ills. There are a thousand and one jobs that can be created in the state. The transport sector is like a untapped mine, agriculture is another and so is industrialization. The government can do well to provide buses to roam the freeway and offer a much cheaper transport cost compared to the cabs. Loans can be granted to farmers to encourage agriculture, and mechanized agriculture for exports. Industries where local goods can be manufactured and exported is also a possibility, not only would it increase the internal generated revenue and provide non oil source of income, it would as well keep the youths gainfully employed and the gap between the social classes will be hugely reduced.

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Facebook experience.

This is my seventh year on Facebook, and with the years, comes observations, and observations begets experience.

The like feature has been one of the most controversial features of Facebook. It has come with so many misinterpretations.

The Problem:
Girl-A posts a photo of herself and gets only 10 likes. Girl-B posts a photo of herself and gets 120 likes. Worthy of note here is,  Girl-A appears to be more decent in the photo.

Girl-A turns purple face by her low-like count, she begins to think she didn't get as much likes because she's not as hot as Girl-B, or in a case where she's convinced beyond all doubt that she's prettier, she begins to question the loyalty of her friends. 'why did I get only 10 likes?' She soliloquizes.

On the flip side, Girl-B starts to feel on top of the pyramid, she begins to chew the ego that comes with stardom. she even brags to her friends about her like-conquest. 'If I post a photo, I get of over a hundred likes' she brags as if likes can add petroleum subsidy. "who like don epp? "  her shrewd friend counters.

The Discovery:
What they are ignorant of is the size of their friend list. Girl-A has just 90 friends, made up entirely of people she knows, while Girl-B has 4,120 friends on her list, of which she barely knows 100.

The Solution:
Facebook posts should have a like system based on percentage calculation. That is to say, your like status would be based on the percentage of likes you get relative to your audience (friends). Since one friend can only like one post once.

A line of code or two can fix this.

If this is implemented, Girl-A would get 11.1% likes, while Girl-B would get 2.9% likes.
See the difference?
In that case, no one will feel socially irrelevant or an overnight celebrity or harbour delusions of love/hatred.

The benefits:
It would eliminate trivial friends from the list of a Girl-B person. Trivial-friends whom she wouldn't accept but for like-sake, trivial-friends who might even hack into her account and post obscene contents, trivial-friends who only invites her to play candy crush or other annoying apps, trivial-friends who might hack into her account and add all the friends on her list to useless groups, trivial-friends who would generate unnecessary notifications...

Her account will be more secure and her confidentiality increased. The benefits goes on and on.

Thanks for reading.

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Last Day in Camp

The NYSC orientation camp finally came to a close. It had seemed  like the three weeks of camping would be unending, but here was the last day of the exercise.   Several camp activities made the three weeks somewhat unbearable for a person who had no military training. The routine parades at dawn, noon and   dusk,  amidst military jargons. The compulsory skill acquisition lectures in the afternoon didn't help matters. The lectures were held in a  pavilion, that was not big enough to  house the teeming population of corp members. Corpers scrambled for chairs. Even  the pavement of the pavilion was scrambled for, and used to sit. The lecture was called  SAED, which stood for skills acquisition and entrepreneurs development. But the skill acquisition lecture was more of an oratory class than practical, and  an avenue for sleep.  I won't easily forget the morning  drills after  parade,  under the scorching heat of the sun.  The soldiers seemed more happy and fulfilled the more they drilled us. Another necessary evil was  waking up by 4:30AM everyday except on Sundays by irksome trumpet sound when sleep was sweetest. 

The queue!
Sweet potatoes, the queue!!
Oh my world, the damn endless frustrating long queues for one registration after another. Queuing for various allowances, queuing for wishy-washy meals at the kitchen,  queuing to answer nature's call - a short line of people waiting in impatient turns to empty their bowels in the shabby toilet facilities.

After the ceremonial parade that marked the end of camping activities, dignitaries who came to honour the event dispersed into thin air, corps members were soon gathered in platoons, scattered in clusters as the posting letters were ready to be dispatched by the platoon officer. It was a feeling of happiness interwoven with unhappiness. Even though the camp was miles away from comfort, there were gloomy looks etched on the faces of corp members. Over the three weeks in camp, new friends were made, relationships established, both the genuine ones and the mammy couples.

The camp had become fun amidst the unfavorable camp conditions. It seemed no one wanted to leave after all. On one cluster, you see corpers taking group selfies, on another you see corpers exchanging contacts and on another you see couples hugging tightly like they were about to be separated and would never see again. Actually the odds were against them being posted to the same LG let alone PPA. Walking around were different fellowship associations carrying  placards of which were written the  names of different local governments, to assist those posted to any, easy location and transport usually for free.

Uyo,  the capital city was on the lips of every one,  only a few weirdos wanted to go to places such as remote villages devoid of either electricity, water or most importantly to me, data network, to spend the next twelve months in. Uyo was regarded as paradise in Akwa ibom, where one can get part time supplementary jobs, catch fun at recreational parks, Ibom Tropicana, the stadium, cinemas, clubs and everything a city can provide.

The glitch was that the capital city was just one of about thirty-one local government areas to be posted to. No one knew for sure where he/she would be posted, majority were visibly shivering nervously under the sunny weather, except a fraction whose parent or friend or parent's friend or friend's parent were at the top.

An aura of uncertainty and tension filled the breathing space as the platoon officer called out the state code.
"zero zero one zero " the platoon officer announced ,  his voice straining to the ears, one barely can hear him from a close range. He started calling out the state code in ascending order, it'd take longer time before he gets to mine.

I was claded on my ceremonial crested vest,  khaki trouser, jungle boot and face cap just like every other corper,  waiting patiently but not anxiously for my state code to be called. I was among the fraction that did not shiver nervously under the hot weather, I was quite sure to be posted to the capital city.  Seun gave me a strong assurance I would serve in a government agency therein.

Seun, an ex-corper who just finished serving, called me a few days to posting.  He said he'd seen my biodata online and I was well qualified to replace him in the accounts department of one of the government agencies in Uyo, where he served. He had actually called to seek my consent and told me what was required of me for the job, and  to ascertain if I was up to the task and willing to accept the offer. An offer I gladly accepted without boggling my brain. Not only would I be in the capital city, but I would escape being posted to a school. Who likes teaching by the way?

My phone rang, the caller ID was my bunk mate. We had a bet earlier on who was to get Uyo and who would be catapulted to a remote rural settlement. We didn't stake cash nor anything of value, but ridiculous mockery.

"Hello, guy how far" I answered the phone.
"Guy, guess what? " he quizzed.
" you've been posted to Nsit Atai" I answered, with a hysterical laugh.
Nsit Atai was the rural community were the camp was located.

"hahaha, you wish. I have been posted to Uyo. PPA, university of uyo... "
" What about you?" he continued
"I'm yet to get my posting letter. I'm quite sure it will be Uyo."

"Okay o. Call you later ",  the call ended. I began pondering about the conversation, this guy would surely crack pieces his ribs if I don't get the  capital city.
Aside the mockery, the news of a friend's success naturally stimulates one to replicate similar feat, thereby putting one under nature induced pressure.  At that instant, the pressure mutated into tension, which gradually grew, starting with a cold feet. I started imagining the worst case scenario.  Teaching a remote public school in a  remote village with no remote cellular network; would there be any visible electric cables and poles to keep the hope of electricity alive? How many miles would I have to walk to get water,  probably stream water? Would they speak English? Pit toilet or 'bush'? ...

"zero five eight zero " the platoon officer announced,  his voice jolted me back to reality. It seemed his voice became fainter, as he progressed down the list. To help matters, corp members close to him would rebroadcast and amplify the  state code in choruses,  further raising the tension. Not helping matters.

" zero five eight zero" they re-echoed,  from their facial expressions,  one could tell his/her fate. If they were all smiles, revealing their dental cavities, then it was probably the capital city, otherwise, it was otherwise.

My heart beat began to accelerate as my state code was among the next in line, it seemed as though there was a change in gear with each state code called. I found and forced my way deep into the cluster of people around the platoon officer.

In no time,  my state code was called out,  I proceeded to the platoon officer's desk to collect my posting letter. I stood tall in front of his desk,  spreading my shoulders wide and high like those of a peacock, to shield my posting letter against prying eyes and the longing necks from those behind. The platoon officer handed me the sheet and at a glance, my eyes went straight to the posting address at the top left of the page.  My mouth was opened slightly, a fly could have  easily flown  in, my eyes popped out, they could have fallen off, I felt cold and my joints froze for about 10 seconds after which my heart beat decelerated back to normalcy. I was posted to Nsit Ubium local government. I quickly folded the sheet to half its size not to reveal its content and folded it again and again until it was small enough to fit in my pocket and then i tucked it deep into my right pocket.

Almost immediately, I heard voices at my back asking in unison,
"guy where were you posted to?"

I turned around head held high and with a big grin spreading from my left cheek to right,  and looking from left side to right and smiling again for emphasis I responded,  "Uyo!".

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Unnecessary Frustration

Just like other nights,  the house of Mr. Okafor was without  power, and enveloped in darkness, just like other houses. The blackouts in the country had become excessively recurrent, the people had adjusted to living in darkness. Suffering but smiling. Aside from the curses laid out on the power company anytime the power supply was  interrupted, no one seemed to have taken any legal action.

Mr. Okafor, a middle class business man in his early forties,  lived in a flat in a Lagos suburb, with his wife,  five kids and his nephew, Chike. He was a happy family man but lost his temper easily when frustrated. The prickly heat that filled his house with gloom, caused by the lack of power,  was enough to trigger his frustration. For this reason,  he had acquired two generator sets.

Dinner was already served, however, Mr. Okafor wouldn't settle for it yet until the breeze from the fan in his living room cooled down the steamy Eba and hot Oha soup and his sweaty body. The time was already 8pm,  the time Mr. Okafor customarily  powers on his generator set, as an economic game plan since petrol started selling for a high N150 per liter. He went downstairs with  Chike to power on the generator set, located some few foots away from the flat for safety reasons.

Usually the generator starts after the first or second yank of its starter,  but it would not start yet, even after the umpteenth trial.  This too was enough to trigger Mr. Okafor's fury.  He could not call  the generator repairers who fix the machine,  he knew it would take only a miracle to get them to leave their workshop at that time of the night,  owing to their busy schedule.  The other generator he has was not in good shape, the engine knocked as a result of overload, Chike used it to iron his clothes two days ago  for a job interview,  an interview that was later postponed.

The breeze had ceased,  the mosquitoes were actively present and the chattering sounds of generator sets in the neighborhood filled the air mixed with   carbon fumes. Mr. Okafor was tenacious, he never gave up on things so easily without a fight. Bearing in mind his food,  the heat and the television program, He sent Chike to get his  box of tools so that he could try some first aid on the generator.

He replaced the plug with a spare but after a series of attempted starting, the engine gave a cough but failed to start. He got the engine oil changed yet the engine remained cold. Then he went as far as cleaning the carburetor. Cautiously, but with enough force he thrust the starter,  the engine kicked, whined and then was silent.  Mr. Okafor's light complexion was already turning red,  one couldn't be sure if his redness was caused by the mosquitoes or bile level. He was filled with rage already but yet he wouldn't stop trying to get the generator to start. Such was Mr. Okafor's fury that he continued thrusting the generator starter but this time around with an increase in the force applied and frequency.  This he continued until the tensile strength of the starter rope failed to hold and it got shared into two. One with the generator,  curled up inside the machine and the other in the tight fist of Mr. Okafor. Realizing nothing can be done to start the generator when the rope is cut,  angrily he left to eat his dinner which must have been cold.

He was barely 5 feet away from his flat when he heard,  "Up Nepa!".  A phrase,  usually in a cheerful tone,  exclaimed in utter exhilaration by people living in that part of Lagos indicates supply of power from the power company. Mr. Okafor on hearing the sound of joy, a prickle of excitement ran up his spine. He increased his pace,  hastened up to his flat leaving Chike trailing behind.

He switched on his appliances: First the Fan,  next the T.V.  and then the Air conditioner, then he settled for his dinner. He called Chike to get him a wash hand basin and when it was set,  he said the grace before meal.
Just as he was about to dip a handful morsel into his soup,  the power supply was interrupted.  "Ndi Ara!" he yelled,  cursing the power company.

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The Door Syndrome

I grabbed the remote control and without looking at it I pressed 2-2-3.  My fingers  pushed down on the button combinations in quick succession without sending any impulse to my cranium box. 
The TV didn't respond accordingly. Instead of displaying  2-2-3 as I punched the keypad, it only showed 2-2 and then froze. Several repeated thumb movements didn't change much.
"What's wrong with this remote device again" I said in silence.

"Why will it be hanging when it handles no complex task. Is it not just a wired panel that is meant to do just one thing? Change the dial? Why is it now freezing like BlackBerry Curve?... "

I tried some old tricks of turning the remote device in different directions, North, West and East while I pressed it yet no show. I raised my hand, giving the handset some elevation and pressed it again and again still no show. Hand still up and forward, this time I pressed on the buttons with more pressure as I tilted it in acute and obtuse angles but still same story.

I knew it had to be the battery. I knew I had to replace the battery for it to come alive but I was too relaxed on the sofa to get up. If I  get up from this position, I might not find this exact spot where this sofa gave solace to me in undiluted comfort. But the clock was ticking, it was almost time for Chelsea match. I wanted not to miss the team line up and pre match interviews and analysis. So I sprang up from my comfort zone and headed for the kitchen where spare batteries were kept in the cabinet.

I met a closed kitchen door so I placed my right hand on the door knob, squeezing it to open the door, I entered the kitchen room.

As soon as I got in, I was greeted by a rat that tormented the house. Usually before now, when I bump into the rats, they run and I chase. But now the tables have turned. The rat sat on the sink, saw me coming and remained motionless with bold eyes and erected whiskers. One would think it was dead if not for the momentary swinging of its tail. I threw my hands in the air towards its direction in order to scare it out of my sight. But it didn't move an inch. I had to be armed with two formidable weapons from the kitchen arsenal, a machete on my left hand and a pestle on my right, to get the rat out of sight. Rats of these days. SMH!.

Feeling triumphant, I took some bold steps round the kitchen, stamping my feet as I matched round. Then I paused for a moment, trying to recollect what must have brought me to the kitchen before the encounter with the rat. I walked further in a circular path, wandering and wondering what brought me here. I stood still facing the wall-fan that sat at the top center of the opposite wall and rubbed my right hand on my head, trying to remember what I wanted to do in the kitchen.
"Something important brought me here, what is it?" I said to myself.
My memory was temporarily blacked out. I looked around for any clue. But found none. Nothing was cooking, the dishes were washed and I wasn't hungry.

"It must have been the door syndrome" I thought to myself.
I still have not figured out what was in doors that make people partially forget the reason why they entered into a room sometimes.
The door syndrome - Different from schizophrenia and far lesser than amnesia.
One way to regain the lost memories in a door syndrome is going back to your immediate previous location.
After a long thought, I decided to go back to the living room. Halfway into the living room, I saw the remote control on the table and then I remembered what made me visit the kitchen.

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