Ups and downs
October 20, 2014 • By sama_on_point

Good morning to you. Welcome to Monday. It’s a new long week. Definitely gonna be filled with ups and downs.

Down – I’m yet to sign a professional and lucrative football contract.

Up – I acquired a brand new #Adizero #Messi10 design soccer kicks by #Adidas last week.

Down – I’m broke!

Up – my beard is really coming along quite nicely.

Down – I woke up to a scorpion by my side! Scared the sh*t out of me.

Up – I’ve been very much enjoying my new life style.

Down – I’ve been unusually broke. *covers face* It’s possible that some ill-feeling may creep its way in (what would a beautiful lady requesting for lunch do to my ego, for example?)

Up – seriously, I’m rocking the beard.

Mahatma Ghandi, the Indian and human race icon, refused to eat while in prison. He went on “hunger strike” to force the colonialists to free India. Maybe I should do something similar. Refuse to shave until I’m financially buoyant once more.

Down – it could start to get itchy very soon.

Up – in no time at all I could make some handy money winning the #BeardGang contest to be hosted by one of the “clueless” multinationals that fill the country. Isn’t that the norm these days? Companies sponsoring sh*tty contest; from “photo” contests, down to “wear-it-all” contests!

My research this morning, reveals a list of irrelevant contests being sponsored by multinationals: “dancing competition”, #Maltina Dance Hall comes to mind, I’ve seized buying or drinking maltina, it’s my personal protest against that company sponsoring a dance competition for a whole family – dad, mum, son, daughter! WTF??? Where do they get those parents that attend that show? I imagine myself walking up to my father, Alhaji, and the following convo ensues:

ME – “asalam alaykum Alhaji”, then I proceed to prostrate flat on my chest, “I have qualified for a competition sir”.

Alhaji – “good, what’s the competition about”.

ME – “it is organised by #Maltina, the winner goes home with 5million naira, a jeep and bla bla bla”.

I hope y’all have noticed how I’ve stylishly avoided Alhaji’s question on “what the competition is about”, I stylishly ignored the question, and jumped into the rewards of the contest.

Alhaji – “great, you are my true son”.

Y’all know how our parents are usually proud of us when they perceive we’ve brought glory to the family. And once we’ve made an error or brought shame to the household, they refer us to our mothers! Yoruba parents won’t kill me with laughter!

ME – “but, Alhaji, I will need your help sir”.

As usual, my father will frown his face, I’m sure his thoughts will immediately time-travel back to the numerous botched scam I’ve tried to pull on him, then my old man will get serious.

Alhaji – “Ehn ehn, what do you need my help for? If it’s money, I don’t have any spare cash to waste on any useless competition, go and meet your mother”.

Lol, in less than 5 minutes, I’ve quickly metaphorsed from “you are my true son” to “go and meet you mother”.

Me – “Alhaji, it isn’t about money, I only need a little of your time and efforts to win this competition”.

My fathers’ frowned face will relax a little.

Alhaji – “so, what do you need from me for this competition of yours?”

Me – “hmmmm, ehn ehn, Alhaji” then I will go dumb.

Alhaji will raise his voice a bit and yell at me; “what is it you want, talk, I don’t have time to waste”.

Me – “Alhaji, I will need you to go with me to the competition. You and iya Fatai”.

Iya Fatai’s is my fathers’ 6th and last wife, since my mum is late, Iya Fatai will do as my mum for the competition.

My father will raise his voice and yell “Ismaila!!!! Do you think I’ve got the time in the world to waste on such useless competition. What do you take me for?”

My readers, have I mentioned to you that through out my stay, both in primary and secondary school, my father never for once stepped his foot in any of my schools?

Me – “Alhaji, it’s not a useless competition. It’s a dance competition, organised by Maltina. Participants will come with their dad and mum and 1 sibling to slug it out with other families. The winner will go home with the lucrative price gift”.

While I reeled out the contents of the competition, I had instinctively taken about 5 steps away from Alhaji.

Alhaji, in full rage by now, triggered by my revelation that the competition is a dance thingy, will give me the full details of how he met my mother and married her. And how he was very sure I will bring disgrace to his family. And how he doesn’t care because “I’m my mothers’ child and not his child”. It won’t end there. Alhaji will call the eldest son around at the moment. Let’s assume it will be one of my numerous half brothers or foster brothers.

Alhaji will scream – “Lati, Lati, come over here. Give Ismaila 12 strokes of the cane on his bare backs for me”.

Before then, Alhaji would have slapped me, a minimum of 3 times, I would have been told to kneel down, raise my hands and close my eyes! Irrespective of your age, you are never too grown up to be disciplined by Alhaji!

The entire household, and it’s a very big household, I must confess [imagine a 4-bedroom flat with 6 wives, 16 children (10 females; 6 males), about 7 cousins/nieces/nephews, Alhaji loves his house bubbling, at all times. It’s usually a beehive of activities, never a dull moment in his house, by this time, would have stood at standstill. If a pin is dropped, you could hear the sound. Everyone keeps mute when Alhaji gets angry. Then silently, they will all count, and some will cry solemnly for me as brother lati’s 12 strokes of dongoyaro cane lands on my bare back. The only sound will be my shouts/cries: brother lati’s dongoyaro cane landing on my bare bank, and Alhaji’s voice instructing brother lati to beat me harder!

So the thought of the unimaginable pain from Alhaji’s slaps and brother lati’s dongoyaro cane alone, is enough to make me resent Maltina for that sh*tty family dance competition!

May the soul of my deceased parents continue to rest in perfect peace. Thank you a lot for everything mum and dad! *gracias*

Apart from that Maltina Family Dance Competition, I can’t think of too many more (if I’ve forgotten obvious ones it’s because it’s really early in the morning and the thoughts of the spanking I could have gotten if I ever raised that sort of competition with my father has really made me not think through for other sh*tty competitions).

Where were we?

Up – I’m glad I’ve written a blog for you to read after my absence all this while.

Down – I woke up this morning to a fully grown scorpion by my side! It scared the hell out of me! You folks should chill till I’m fully made before you start sending snakes and scorpions to me na, please!

Up – thank you LORD for the protection. #GratefulHeart

Yet here we are talking about beards, scorpions, dance competition, when we should be talking about making money or talking politics!

Despite the news of the “ceasefire” agreement reached by the FG and the Boko-Haram sects towards the tail-end of last week, there just seems to be an air of apathy around everything. I can only talk for myself, obviously, but I look at the FG we have, I like the security forces we’ve got, but I just don’t see them doing anything greater than they’ve done in the past, which is clearly not where we want to be.

Everything seems to be hung up on this #2015polls and while there are so many stories, suggestions, hints, allegations, counter-allegations, facts, fictions, lies, spoofs, and vested interests, it seems kinda mad that we’re so hung up on this thing. The reality is that even if we vote in the opposition tomorrow, the winner can’t change the whole problems the country has.

Down – after writing all what I’ve written above, I’m still BROKE this morning!

Up – er … a fantastic sharp-tongued colleague,brother, best friend, former hostel mate, former flat mate, former room mate, fellow gooner [y'all shouldn't laugh at us 'cos of #Arsenal's poor form so far] has promised to wire a huge amount of money to me this morning! I’m anxiously anticipating the alert via text message with heartbreaking patience.

Down – MTN keeps sending their sh*tty numerous messages from 5031, 4100, 5030, 33550, 5021, 5029, 33240, etc. Can’t I sue this mofo company for “disturbance of personal privacy” to make lil’ cash?

Till some other day, have a blessed week folks!

SamaOnPoint’sBlog…..always ONpoint


On this day, I remember how back then in FGC Ogbomoso, guys had pen-pals from other Unity schools (something peculiar to teenagers of our days then. Sadly, it has become history. No thanks to social media). It was a really cool trend, most especially among the ‘happening’ guys. I remember vividly, how some guys got up to about 5 letters from other schools on inter-house sports days, obviously sent through the schools’ athletes (courier of life!). I remember how peeps, most likely the ones in your clique would rally round to read the letter(s) one of them got. There’s this particular guy in my house, he got about 7 letters on the same day! He was really feeling cool, I was just like “what’s doing this one sef? I wonder wetin gals de see for dis one body sef, with hin big head!” (Did I hear some one from FGC Ogbomoso mention a name? LOL)

Ok fast forward, there was this time I got a letter from one babe from FGGC Ipetumodu, yeah I got one too! The only one I got throughout my 6 years stay in FGC Ogbomoso (hehehehehe…*opens teeth*). I remember she was like a family friend to one of my friends back in school, so while gisting about her one time like that, I just took interest in her and decided to write her.
“Who is Tunde Adetutu?”, senior Bolu Obembe [the head boy then] came into my room asking, my heart almost jumped outta my mouth ‘cos the only thing that could come to my head was “yeeepa! I don enta kwanta!”.


“Kwanta” : / kwa¦an|ta /
Pronunciation: / ˈkwʌntʌ /
NOUN, VERB – worry/problem/difficulty/trouble etc

SYNONYMS to “kwanta” – “gbege”, “yawa”, “gobe”.

(I trust my FGC Ogbomoso goons not to forget those numerous slangs).

“You have a letter from FGGC Ipetumodu”, the head boy said. Trust me, it was as if the whole of Olumo rock was lifted off ma mind.
“But who could it be?”, I wondered after I had gotten back to my normal self (trust me! You can’t be at peace at the thought of having trouble with some seniors, not to mention the “semi-god-like Headboy”!).

Almost immediately, I flipped open the letter! Lo and behold! It was that babe I had discussed with my friend!
After reading the letter, I felt dragon-flies fluttering in my belly! (Yeah dragon flies! There’s this thing about them which I can’t explain biko!). I can’t remember how many times I read that letter but trust me, it wouldn’t have been less than a million times that day! (You blame me?). For real, everything that day made me feel like I was in wonderland! My rusted bunk seemed like pure gold to me. My tattered mattress (not mine though but a senior chose to ‘abachise/colonise’ my wonderful mouka foam. My bad!)…..

“abachise/colonise” : aba¦chi|ise / col¦on|ise.
Pronunciation: / ˈabəCHaʌɪz / / ˈkɒlənʌɪz /
VERB [WITH OBJECT] – Forcefully take and establish control over.

…. was just like a mattress that even d president couldn’t afford! My garri infested locker felt lik a treasure box! (‘Cos I remember vividly how I folded the letter neatly and kept in one of my textbooks, one book I didn’t get to open throughout my stay in FGC Ogbomoso!) Wait! did I forget to mention what the letter was all about? Well it was simply:

“Hello Tunde, I got your letter. How is school? Thanks for writing. Hope to hear from you again”.

You know, this feeling of a super-fly dude enveloped me completely that day! Yeah! I wished someone had stepped on me that day, I’d prolly have been like “WTF! How can you step on me? Don’t you know I just got a letter from a ‘chic’?”. (Oh! Woe betide my folly. Lol). Wherever I went that day, I took the letter with me and gladly showed some of my friends (some where just like me! They never got one letter! So I was a step ahead. Some of them are prolly reading this right now! Hehehehehe).

Eh! I don’t intend to bore you with this long epistle. Read if you can! And if you can’t (but I’ll be damned if you didn’t. How did you get here? Lol). You can choose to keep walking and perhaps along the way, think about how to protect yourself and loved ones from the deadly virus, EBOLA! and don’t you ever forget to pray for Nigeria! *wink* Thanks Y’all, have a nice day.
#‎myFGCstory‬ #‎RelishedMoments‬ #FEGCOchronicles

Written by Adetutu Babatunde Yomi.
Edited by Salami Ismail Oyewale [@sama_on_point].

Did you have any “pen-pal” back then? If YES, kindly share some of the funny #RelishedMoments you had with them. Thank you.

SamaOnPoint’sBlog…..always ONpoint


It’s the TAFA series via | | from the enigmatic @Tafatruth_show.
You can follow him on the following platforms:
TWITTER: @Tafatruth_show
FACEBOOK: Exquisite ‘Tafa Alawy

FACT: “Poetry is beautiful but it doesn’t get enough credit.” – @sama_on_point

Poetry is that sweet rhythmic expression…

Spraying words of joy, hissing melancholic strings of depression…

Poetry soothes as we journey through this strife of a life…

Living standards faltering, altering the thinking faculty of a potential wife…

Poetry is words portraying a graphic detail…

Of those who held the head and those that took the tail…

Poetry is the warning of the yellow leaves…

Poetry is the naivety of the green ones saying “I won’t die, forever this green fellow lives”…

Poetry is the hard worker burning calories for thieves…

Paid in sweats of despair and poverty, so he brings home to his mother gifts of griefs…

This is the theory of 9-5’ers that get home nothing less than eleven…

Out by 5:30am daily, I’m guessing retirement is in heaven…

Poetry is the sun, giving the mind photosynthetic capability…

Poetry is the phoenix renewing the ability of an athlete’s agility…

Poetry is the traffic, the vehicles and their horns honking, the beautifully dented roads, the driver, the conductor and his schemes and screams, the passengers, the hawkers and their not so life threatening marauding runs, the road blocks and the men of the force, the tips for their keeps, the scorching sun that cools because the nights are most vicious…

Poetry is the city, the state, the nation; the state of the nation…

Dastardly photos in the Sun, the pretty pixels in Ovation…

Poetry is a spiritual narration…

Voiced or on paper, Olulu’s 15 or Tafa’s dissertation…

Poetry is beautiful like the sunset from a beach view…

Poetry is the sermon to the audience seated on the pew…

Poetry is my father’s handsome portraits gracing the wall…

A reminder, that the almighty designer won’t inform you when he’ll be making the call…

Poetry is my muse, poetry is what I use…

To elevate my moods from different morphs of abuse…

If I die today I deduce that poetry will come up as an excuse…

Poetry is Surah Nas and Surah Dua…

Poetry in my faith, poetry in my Dua…

Hip hop is poetry, I’m a fervid advocate…

The defender of what the world wants to abrogate…

Poetry is electricity…

Sparks that enlighten and darken a city…

Power that weaves the minds of people consciously and subconsciously…

I hold dear to my poetry though at times she lies to me preciously…

Poetry is all words no action, is poetry an irony?…

Poetry is what we see daily…

The grateful moan after the climax from your lady…

Sad lies you see on the gorgeous face of your baby…

Poetry is as sweet as poetry is as shady…

Poetry is as sane as poetry is as crazy…

Poetry is primary like red ,yellow and blue…

Poetry is me, him, her and you…

Poetry is Hitler, poetry is Ghandi…

Poetry is a sophisticated fancy…

A luxury that might just come in handy…

Poetry is light, poetry is the knight…

With words turn swords that give the weak might…

Poetry is more than water, three-quarters of the earth…

What is the name of that s**t that broke before your birth?…

Poetry is everything, poetry is even called death…

SamaOnPoint’sBlog…..always ONpoint


Today’s story is a stone wall reality!
It’s the #Osun2014 piece from one of Nigeria’s leading undergraduate On Air Personality @biodunajibade of #FUTA 93.1fm.
You can follow him on the following platforms:
TWITTER: @biodunajibade
InstaGram: @biodunajibade
FACEBOOK: Abiodun Ajibade

In the political equation in Nigeria today, whatever side any one may be, no one can deny the awe-inspiring adulation which Ogbeni Rauf Aregbesola enjoys throughout the South western state. Rauf Aregbesola, despite his portable frame is a dynamo of a personality, and like similar powerful personalities in history, his overwhelming presence conjures so much attention.
In the early days of his administration, people talked often about his unusual style of governance. Months after his ascendancy to power, he worked himself to the bones, alone as it were. Many, within and outside the party, just wondered who is this man called Rauf Aregbesola. The opposition grumbled and spoiled to make some of the issue political. Interestingly, the more they murmured about him and his style, the more confused they got, Ogbeni Rauf Aregbesola is on the march again.
I was a witness to the APC mega rally in Osogbo few days ago, Ogbeni was followed by tumultuous crowd, all hailing him, in a way celebrating a triumphant entry, same happened in all of his mega rally from the ancient city of Iwo to Ikirun, Ilesa, Ife Ife etc

In all these, the most remarkable was the fact that Aregbesola wasn’t clad in head-to-toe bullet proof vest. His popularity was his armour. Only a few politicians in Nigeria today could have the courage to walk the streets of their constituencies without heavy police protection.
Aregbesola is a man of the populace, walks freely, shakes hands with tens of hundreds despite the fear of Ebola in Nigeria, he has an outstanding privilege to rule without any fear. Ogbeni sees himself as first amongst equals and relates to every human being that comes into his surrounding with utmost respect and a listening ear to issues affecting the growth and development of the state.
It is important to note that Ogbeni’s impressive record of performance in the last 3.5 years is a leading factor in the unpreceedented reception he receives everywhere he steps in the state. His unique style of leadership, creativity and originality have combined to make him one of the best governors in Nigeria today.

He has greatly transformed the State of Osun in all sectors from youth employment and empowerment to child and maternal health, education, home grown school feeding, culture and tourism, agriculture, care for aged, infrastructure. Every city, town and village in the state has been positively impacted with social infrastructure.
Without mincing words, Ogbeni Rauf Adesoji Aregbesola has won the hearts of his people, old and young, men and women.
Never in the annals of the State of Osun have we had a governor that is very dedicated to the overall developmet of the state, transparent in state finances, highly innovative in governance.
It is no gainsaying that a lot of people who have occupied the helms of affairs in the state at different levels in the past have literarily pinched themselves to be sure if this was the same Osun they had governed in the past.
A big source of worry to Ogbeni’s political opponents is that they could not understand how Ogbeni has been able to coordinate and harness the meagre resources of the state of Osun in a way that ensured continuous execution of landmark projects with lasting positive impact on the citizens.
Ogbeni’s closest rival is Senator Iyiola Omisore, gubernatorial aspirant of the Peoples Democratic Party in the August 9 elections. Omisore is not a newcomer to Osun political terrain, a former deputy governor and a senator, it speaks volume of his political capacity in Osun State but one big negative in Omisore’s political career would forever be his alleged involvement in the murder of Late Bola Ige.

The good people of Osun are not only sophisticated but very wise, and they can discern. The death of the former Attorney
General and Minister of Justice is still very fresh in the minds of Osun people. His alleged involvement in Bola Ige’s murder continues to ring in the heads of the people. I sincerely feel PDP as a party lost the Osun state gubernatorial election the very day Omisore was choosen as the flag bearer of the party. His character and antecedents as an alleged murderer, is enough to convince the people not to vote him in. Expectedly, the victory of PDP in Ekiti State appears to have given Omisore some level of confidence to boast that the party would replicate same in Osun on Saturday, August 9, 2014.

Apparently, From my point of view its no brainer that the August 9 governorship election in Osun State is a tougher test for the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) than Ekiti State. Subsequently, The Peoples Democratic Party in Osun state has suffered some major setback when two of their strong pillars in Osun state, Alhaji Isiaka Adeleke and former Osun State governor, Prince Olagunsoye Oyinlola defected to the APC based on the fact that the foundation of the party was based on deceits and falsehoods.
It is crystal clear that the geopolitical demographics and permutations currently favor Ogbeni Rauf.
One can go on and on, the point remains that Aregbesola’s achievements are not only real and credible, but have also been acknowledge even from unxpected opposition circles. As the August 9, 2014 gubernatorial election draws nearer a vote for Ogbeni Rauf Aregbesola is definitely a vote for progress and further developments in all sectors in the State of Osun.

SamaOnPoint’sBlog…..always ONpoint


Tonight’s story isn’t a dream. It’s a new story with strong and explicit language use, readers discretion is advised.
Are you ready?

It’s the #TwitterAfterDark series from the specially gifted @IamHighDee.
You can follow him on the following platforms:
TWITTER: @IamHighDee
InstaGram: @IamHighDee
FACEBOOK: Olatunji Ifedayo Warner

As a “balling” guy, I had cheated a couple of times with other girls…but they were never permanent. I loved Ophelia like no other girl. I couldn’t imagine anything would separate I and her. Her parents even let her come spend the weekend with me most times. it was nothing…*pops collar*.

I had gotten Ophelia a car as her birthday present when we were in our second year at BU, hired a personal trainer to teach her to drive and… In short, the love was almost spiritual. I’d never looked at any other girl the way I looked at bae, she never stopped being pretty.

One day, I was so sick I couldn’t leave the house. Ophelia was with me the previous day. She called me that morning that she’d come over to check on my health. It was already 3:15pm. I was about switching my TV mode to FIFA game mode and saw something on the local news… there’d been an accident. I hated bad/sad news, especially about deaths or injuries. I quickly tapped the remote control and slot in my FIFA 13 disc.

After playing for about 2 hours or so, I finally summoned the courage to go have a bath so I could get prepared to go to the clinic. Still wondering why Ophelia’s number had been switched off since the start of the day, I had my bath, taking all the time in the world to get done. Then I stepped out, rubbing the towel all over my head and my entire body.
“Tega…” I stopped for a minute. That was Ophie’s voice.
” Ophelia???” I replied, kind of surprised because I hadn’t heard Musa, the gate keeper, open the gate for her to drive into the compound.
“Yeah baby” she answered in her usual babyish voice.
“What happened? Where is your car?” I asked.
“I drove it inside the swimming pool darl”
I laughed heartily. She had a way of evading questions whenever she was trying to hide something.
“I’m sure it’s well parked there, silly foul”

Then I stepped out of the bathroom and for a minute, I stood there looking… “Wow!!! You look like you’ve just seen a ghost”, she said.
“Wow! Madam, damn! You look crazy sexy” I exclaimed.
Ophie had on a lingerie corset under bust, all shades of black and pink.

She looked like all these porn actresses or… maybe a little better. She stood there with a crazy pose that revealed her sexy thighs. Her black hair shone brightly, almost like an angel’s, if they really do exist. Her boobs, 38D if I remember vividly. The only thing covered was her nipples, I could smell the lip-gloss she had on from where I was, cherry flavoured! She was just perfect!

“Came to make you feel better hun” she said in a very erotic and invitingly soft voice as she cat-walked towards me… “You like…?” she was about to complete her sentence. I cut her short.
“Like? Baby you look gorgeous! I love this…” I replied quickly.
Still glued to my feet waiting for her to get to me…
“Awwn my poor baby” she quipped

As our tongues swirled around each other, she quickly held my hand and took me to the chair near the table next to my TV…
“And how is my baby feeling now…?” She asked. I had even forgotten I was sick. Man I wasn’t even ill no more.
“Perfect, I feel just…”
I hadn’t finished my sentence before she pulled my towel from my waist. She held my d*ck, wanking it while she had her eyes fixed on mine.
I stared back at her… her eyes felt so distant. Funny, but this was definitely going to be a different night. Best so far because…
“Oh my…” I gave a deep moan as she had her tongue on the tip of my cock. It felt so good I could feel my load in my balls already!
It wasn’t as if this was the first time I was getting a blowjob from her, but the whole costume play had taken it to another level entirely.
Soon she had my cock in her whole mouth. She was making this “Hmmm” sound like she was having a very delicious meal.
Deeper she went with each gulp. At times she’d take the hole fat 7 inches into her throat for about a second or two before she removed it. The slurping sound she made with her mouth almost drove my mind crazy! I had to hold onto her hair one time to hold my load back.
Slurp… slurp… slurp… the sound went on and on with her making the most erotic sounds ever. Best blowjob ever! Then she stopped. I couldn’t hold it anymore! I shot my cum in her mouth, not having time to warn her what was coming. I knew she hated cum in her mouth. But to my wildest surprise, I heard her gulp my cum down her throat. She sucked every bit of it and even used her fingers to wipe the little that trickled down her chin back into her mouth. My mouth was wide open… “Ophie…?”
She brought her boobs closer and put my dick in between them. Then the titty-fucking started. Amazing! Almost seemed unreal!
“Oooh Ophie ooo…” I called her name while moaning and she looked at me while she continued squeezing my dick with her boobs. I could hear the sound her boobs made with my dick in between…so sloppy…As soon as she was done, she sat on my laps facing me. She placed her hands around my neck and slowly kissed me, yet again, so creamy and sweet. My dick was stone hard again!
She carefully shifted her panties to the side and stood a little so she could get my shaft inside her warm kitty… Warm! Tight! She slowly sat on my dick, increasing her moan with every inch of the thick meat that made its way up in her pussy “Tega…ohhhhh”

Wasting no time, I had my hand on her soft bubbly ass and helped her go up and down. As her pace increased, I had to let go of her ass. She was doing a perfect job, her ass was bouncing up and down and she had her eyes closed. I managed to suck her nipples as we f*cked on. After a little while, she stopped moving up and down and gave me a little time to suck her nipples well. She moaned so loud and… I… She stood up and pulled me up, kissed me and then bent down; holding the table and shooting her ass out as she did… What .a .view!!!
I quickly positioned my cock in her p*ssy and drove it in, we both moaned as I started slamming against her ass… the sound…the view! CLASSIC
I was going as hard as I could, grabbing her ass… “Oh oh…” she requested as she pushed against my d*ck. I smacked her ass a couple of times… then held her hair and f*cked even harder. I was going to cum…”Ooooh Tega im cumming! Im cumming!” She also said. I couldn’t even wait one more second after I heard that…my cum was poured inside her while I pullled her ass against mine with all my strength. Surprisingly, my cock was still a little hard. She knelt down and sucked my d*ck for a few seconds, making it harder. After she was sure I was hard again, she stretched her hands towards me like a little baby asking to be carried. I carried her up, she held my neck with one hand and put the d*ck into her pussy with the other. Soon she started bouncing up and down in my hands. After a while, I put her on the sofa and she immediately assumed the doggy position. I parted her p*ssy lips with my cock and found my way in gently.

We started f*cking again, each slam felt like I was going deeper and deeper. Her juiced flowed from her p*ssy down to her laps too. Slamming and ramming…moaning and whimpering sounds…
“Baby I’m gonna cum soon now…” I told her as I slowed down a little.
She started pushing her ass back and forth. As soon as I was about to cum, I quickly removed my d*ck and the cum splat all over her ass.

Exhausted, I fell on the bed and she put her head on my chest too… slowly rubbing my chest.
“Baby that was awesome… like crazy” I said.
She didn’t say anything at first. She was probably too tired to talk, I guess. She lifted her head up.
“Tega, I will always love you, …you mean everything to me…” she sniffed “I don’t want you to ever leave me Tega…”
As she said this, her eyes was filled with tears. I didn’t understand why she was crying, then I thought… tears of joy or something.
I kissed her forehead and held her close.
“I will always love you too baby, you’re mine…”
After a few minutes, she stood up and told me she was going to the bathroom to clean up. My phone rang, probably, for the millionth time. It had been ringing since. I picked it up with a very exhausted “hello”.
It was Dayo, one of my good friends from school.
“Tega where you dey?” He almost shouted with a shaky voice
“I’m at home..” I responded wearily.
“I’m at your gate, come open gate abeg” he demanded.
“Call Musa to open the gate for you.” I told him.
“I don dey knock since. Musa no dey him post”
Then I remembered Musa had left earlier. He took permission to leave for a party he had that day. How could I have forgotten that? I went to the gate reluctantly.

I opened the gate and found Dayo and a bunch of my goons looking so gloomy and sad.
“Wetin happen?” I inquired
“You never hear?” One of them asked
“Hear wetin?” I shot back, wondering what the f*ck was going on.
“Ophelia bro…” Dayo said
“She’s inside with me na” I replied, still wondering.
All of them suddenly looked at me like I was a mad person.
“Didn’t you watch the news this afternoon?” One of them chipped in.
I was still confused.
Then I turned to head indoor with them at the gate, wide opened. I wasn’t sure what type of trick they were playing but their acting was perfect.
I went straight inside, Dayo was following me closely behind.
“Babe…”, I called out as I entered the room. “Ophelia!!!”, I screamed.
My heart started racing fast. I went into the bathroom and found no one inside. Still assured she was somewhere in the house. I started shouting her name all around the house but got no reply. Then I walked into the living room.
The boys were all gathered round the TV. I could hear the sound of the 7:30pm news theme as I walked towards them. For a minute or two, I felt as if my heart had stopped beating.
“Is that…” I couldn’t even finish my sentence… I went down slowly as my legs couldn’t bear the weight of my whole body anymore.
Dayo was already crying, all the boys were too. I couldn’t cry just yet. I still don’t understand what’s happening around me.
Like a far away scene, I could see Ophelia’s pink mercedes, crashed. I couldn’t doubt because I could see her plate number clearly.
“It… it happe… it happened this afternoon… when she was on her way here…” Dayo tried as much as he could to explain to me.
Then I ran inside the room, they all ran after me, screaming my name. I got inside the room and looked all around.
My laptop was open. It was playing a porn series… the main actress had a lingerie on. Exactly the type Ophelia had on.
I went down again… hot tears started flowing endlessly as I sobbed. I slowly walked back to the sitting room and sat on the bare floor.

Then I remembered what she said to me… “I will always love you, Tega…” And it kept ringing, like it was so real when it happened. I had an affair with a ghost?

Hello. My name is Tega Jeba… Thanks for reading my story of what was real and what was not.

*The End*

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Tribute/Diary to My Late Awopegba Adedapo Julius [DPO] FUTASU President [March 10, 2012 - July 13, 2012]

This is a story I have said before, it is a story I will continue to say because Awopegba Julius Adedapo [DPO], it’s the last respect I can pay to you.

My dearest DPO, as you are fondly called by friends and foes alike, today, it’s exactly 2 years [= 24 months, 104 weeks, 730 days, 17,520 minutes, 1,051,200 seconds] that you have been committed to mother earth and yet it seems like yesterday. We parted ways at the Federal University of Technology Akure [FUTA], long after the “swearing in ceremony” that brought you officially into office, the stead I had left for you, to continue the uplift of Students’ welfare in our great citadel of learning, FUTA.

Being a 400 level student of the prestigious Federal University of Technology Akure [FUTA], I had proceeded on the compulsory 6-months Industrial Training [I.T] scheme. I was hell bent on making all necessary required income during those 6-months, which I look back to with nostalgia. Having garnered little working experience as a fresh undergraduate, thanks to the “110-days ASUU strike of 2009″, I expected this I.T to be “bread and tea”, I was wrong! I had to work my socks off to get a placement, can we forget about the pay, please? My industrial attachment took me to SEVEN states [Lagos, Oyo, Ogun, Edo, Delta, Anambra, Kogi], I worked on virtually all the NIPP [National Integrated Power Plant] complex in the southern hemisphere of Nigeria! I kept on ticking the days, waiting for the 6-months to be over, for probably the first time in my life, I longed to go back to school!

In the middle of a tiring, hectic schedule on a very wet fateful Friday, July 13th 2012, at the Petroleum Training Institute [PTI] central mosque, Effurun – Delta State, that was my post of duty then, just immediately after the jumah salamah [end of prayer], my phone lines went agog with numerous phone calls from past and present union leaders and union members, I knew something was wrong! My circus on the “social media” were buzzing and beeping me all at once, I knew big trouble was in stock! Then I saw it with my own eyes, it was posted CLEARLY and LEGIBLY, by a “senior comrade”, an ex-FUTASU president, on his facebook wall, I wept! Since the day I lost my mum, at the tender age of NINE, I always claim that no death can shake me vigorously again, until well, I lost my dad too, four years later, that for me, sealed my “weeping eyes” for any death again, until Julius Adedapo Awopegba [DPO] died, I wept like a kid, it shook me to my bone marrow. Your death stood right next to my parents’ own on my list of personal colossal lost!

After my tears had dried up a bit, which took the better part of TWO hours, I decided point blank to make the trip down to Akure that evening, but my boss wouldn’t have any of it, he was worried about my safety for such late trip, from Asaba, Delta State to Akure, Ondo State. He persuaded me to wait till the next morning before I made my trip, which I obliged. The waiting all night was painful, lonely and extremely long, I just couldn’t sleep, I lost my appetite, I couldn’t eat. I wept more. At cock crow the next morning, Saturday, July 14, 2012, I was the first out of the block for the short drive to the park, upon getting to the park, I learnt I couldn’t make the trip because the Edo State Gubernatorial election was being conducted that day, there was no movement, both vehicular and personal, in and around Edo state, I had to pass through Edo state, which was a connecting state from Delta state to Ondo state! I wept more at the park! I just couldn’t bear the pain of being somewhere in Delta state, and I couldn’t pay my last respect to a close associate on his death bed at the Federal Medical Centre, Owo.

I had no choice but to go back and wait for another 24 hours before I could make my trip to Akure, the wait was excruciating and painfully long. During the wait, there were counter reports from the officials of FUTASU that DPO wasn’t dead, that he was in a state of coma. Why play “politics” with the death of a perfect, young and resourceful gentle man beats my imagination! Was is it that the officials of FUTASU were blatantly falsifying the truth ? Or were they “withholding” the truth from the students? Or was it due to inexperience on the path of FUTASU officials in handling such important issue?. A similar scenario ensued when the then president of the country, the Late Umaru Musa Yar’adua, died, the presidential aides kept feeding the masses falsehood which almost tore the nation apart! I don’t get why the true state of the then number one student of FUTA be withheld from the students populace, whom he is/was serving. This piece isn’t for the shenanigans or those that were with us [the student movement] then but not now, they have since switched sides! Emotion is making me deviate from my tribute to the illustrious Julius Adedapo Awopegba [DPO].

While my forced wait didn’t allow me to personally participate in the mass student movement that ensued all day on that epic saturday after the “confirmed news” of DPO’s demise was made known to students, Akure town witnessed, if not the BEST [from the point of view of a unionist] or worst [from the point of view of the "anti-student movement" agents], it would surely be right up at the top, depending on which side of the fence you sit; BEST or worst. FUTA students took to street in Akure to mourn the demise of late Julius Adedapo Awopegba [DPO]. I followed the movement all through via the “social network” sites, one after the other, the national dailies had to cover the students’ unrest, which later became a national news. Our demand was just ONE and sacrosanct: that the governor of the state, Dr Olusegun Mimiko, turn up and grieve with the students, on the street! After all, the journey that claimed the life of DPO and four other comrades in Ondo State was in honour of the governor at an award ceremony in Abuja. The governor, after lots of delay and “poli-tricks” by his aides, later showed up, albeit not on the street, but inside the school premises, at the Sports complex, precisely, where he listened to few aggrieved students, he promised a “state-burial” among others. To an extent, the thirst for justice within the rank and file of the FUTA students’ movement had been satisfied, they all dispersed and went home to regroup the next day.

I embarked on my journey, first thing Sunday morning, a little delay occurred in Benin city, as the “comrade governor” had won a re-election, I was deep in thought, we had lost a comrade that could have gone on to better the impeccable records of the “comrade governor”! The joy on his face at the open rally while I was commuting was a joy to behold, the happiness on the faces of indigenes and residents of Benin city was heart warming, Ring-road, Benin city, was temporarily turned into the “convention ground” where Adams Oshiomole delivered a goodwill message to hundreds of thousands of electorates who had poured out en masse to celebrate with the “comrade governor” in the slight rainfall, neglecting their sunday service, that was the power of “comrades”, and far away in Owo, we had lost a “shining comrade”. In my thoughts, I prayed to DPO to forgive me, for, I had abandoned my trip to Akure, for about 1 hour, to behold the spectacle on display at Ring-road, Benin city. I wept again, the lads surrounding me thought I was weeping tears of joy for Adams Oshiomole, no folks, I was weeping for my deceased comrade! I was weeping because I was thinking, this rally could have been DPO’s own in some 20 years time! And it’s all gone down the drain with his death!

On arrival at Akure that sunday, I met a sizeable number of “students activist” on ground, still gathering, still mobilising, still inspiring, still challenging the “powers that be”, still holding forth, still insisting on having a “lecture-free” week in honour of the late FUTASU president, and above all, still praying! I joined in naturally, exchanged pleasantries with all and sundry within my reach, and I was immediately “sighted” by the agents of the University management. A task from the Dean of Students, Dr B.K Alese, he himself a thorough FUTARIAN, and once a FUTASU official, having served meticulously as an honourable during his days on campus, was immediately assigned to me, I was to join in the efforts to calm the students.

The Ondo State government too as well did not leave us in mourning alone, they took care of the corpses at the mortuary of the Federal Medical Centre, Owo, they took care of the bills, casket and transport of the corps from Owo to various destinations.

It was indeed a monumental burial I could remember DPO, your corpse left early morning to Ibadan from Owo, your body was escorted from FMC, Owo to FUTA, where we had demanded that you should be allowed to be paid a last lap of honour by students in the school, after much arguments and bickering by the University management, the FUTASU officials cowed in, they didn’t allow us give you the best befitting lap of honour we wanted, although, they claim it was your family that instructed that they didn’t want your corpse to be brought into the school, we didn’t believe them, we connived with some genuine student movement comrades and ensured that your corpse was brought into the school premises, a short lap of honour was did for you from the frontage of the Students’ Union Building to the North-gate of the school, where we had mobilised an appreciable chunk of students to pay their last respect to you, there was tears from us, as we could not hold ourselves any longer, it was a memorable sober, we drove in convoy of about thirty vehicles, all from neighbouring institutions, Ondo State government officials, the University Management, and well-wishers to see you home, we were living legends, you were our deceased hero!

Our Beginning,

I remember vividly, our first “tate a tete”, it was sometime in 2010, when I, as the then Assistant General Secretary of the FUTA Students’ Union, was running helter skelter to get the “power brokers” of FUTA, which you were strongly one, as the then “school governor” of the prestigious School of Agriculture and Agricultural Technology [SAAT], to endorse my candidacy for the presidency slot. I had to practically appeal to your pity to support my candidature, which you were against, due to the debacle you found yourself in, there was a presidential candidate running from your school, SAAT, and it would be “politically suicidal” for you to jettison his candidature to support mine. It was in this same meeting that I took the decision to personally have a flesh of pound from you when I eventually get to become FUTASU president. I waited patiently, 12 months later, it was your turn #DPO to run for presidency, and I vowed never to support you!

Our second contact was while you were running for the top seat, the FUTASU presidency, I would never forget that fateful day. You had been doing all your best to have an audience with me, but I had been doing all my best to put you off, refusing to grant you the audience, after a while, I eventually decided to meet you, I fixed the appointment in my room, suite A1, FUTASU presidential villa, block II, Abiola Hall, FUTA, I can see you all FUTA folks giggling at that address, stop it, don’t paint the “luxury accommodation” of the FUTASU president in bad light to the public now!

Before your arrival, I had ensured all the core members of my campaign team where present for the “D-day” with you. Upon your arrival, you were stunned to see us, eagerly waiting for you. When you had been through with your “speech” on why we should endorse you, I broke into a tirade, I lost my head, and I told you point blank I would never support you! You were stunned! That gladdened my heart! I then proceeded to take the pain to explain to you why I wouldn’t endorse you; I told you it was because of what you did to me, I told you it was the way you treated me when I came to you for your support while I was gunning for the top seat, I told you that you barely gave me an audience, you made me stand to hold that discussion with you at the 3-in-1 lecture theatre “quadrant”, I told you that you didn’t give me a chance back then, and I told you it was since that day that I have held that grudge against you. I told you that the day I learnt you were also nursing the presidential ambition, I had made up my mind I was going to tell you what you did to me, which really hurt me. Surprisingly, you smiled, that smile probably won my heart! And you explained all that happened to me, you told me your hands were tied back then, that you couldn’t “betray” the SAAT agenda. I was thrilled by your loyalty to SAAT. Either it was your loyalty to SAAT, although I later won the then SAAT candidate, right in his own faculty, or it was your smile, at the end of that epic and lengthy discussion, I told you that the presidency was yours! I don’t know what or why I said it, but I knew you were the horse to beat in the race. I told you not to panic because it was still early in the race, and you were up against heavy weights, there was the “SOS agenda”, there was the “SEET agenda”, and you were more of the “underdog”. Above all, there was the strong personal believe you had that you were going to win the presidential race. But GOD has HIS ways of playing out destiny, the rest, they say, is history, Julius Adedapo Awopegba [DPO], you eventually won the FUTASU presidential race.

Our third contact too was based on the “suspicion” of your campaign team that I was playing “politics” with you and your campaign crew. You were concerned that a present officer in my regime was also running for the presidency post and that I would go with him not you. But I reiterated my stance that I’ll provide all logistics support to you and your crew to the best of my ability, but I told you I wasn’t going to betray an officer in my regime, I told you that was the BEST I could do for you. Your crew wanted me to be a leading advocate of your campaign, and I told you that was asking for too much from me.

Our struggles

I remember back then how we took the bull by the horn, when we protested against the outrageous fee for the “soon-to-be introduced” PMT 301 & PMT 302 course, that was our first real struggle. It was a battle of the wits with the university management. It was during the transition period from the “outgoing FUTASU officials” to the “incoming FUTASU officials”, we held series of meeting, in house, and with the management, where we had to keep pushing the fee for this course down, we had to start our negotiation from the #12,000 charge, after extensive debates for and against the introduction of the course, we settled “unofficially” for #3,000 at the fifth meeting. I want you to know that after your demise, the fee was hiked up to #4,500, I swear to GOD, I know nothing about it, I was away on I.T, that formed the first basis for the numerous resentment towards the officials of your regime after you left! Despite calls from some “short-sighted” students that you should demand for the outright cancellation of the PMT courses, you stood firm and upheld it, you only beat the price down further, thus students had no option but to take the course, virtually all students who has taken the course has gainfully learned one “entrepreneurial skill and vocation” or the other, except perhaps, the stress they complain about, but again, what comes without pain? Most of them today are managers of men in their different “small scale” endeavours, this is another milestone of yours!

I could remember my last struggle as the president of FUTASU, it was due to the epileptic power failure around school area, you had just been elected but not yet sworn in, technically, I was still in charge, but theoretically, you were the boss, my star was shining less among the students, yours had just begun to shine brightly. The pressure from the students for a protest was mounting, I had no choice but to call a congress, and at the congress, it was resolved that we led a “peaceful protest” to the PHCN office at NEPA junction, I communicated that resolution to the university management, and of course, they were against it, we had no option but to move en masse to the PHCN complex. After we had all gathered on the morning slated for the protest, the Dean of Students, Dr B.K Alese, did all he could to stop us, but we still went ahead, I remember the threat you got that you hadn’t been sworn in yet, and that the mandate could be taken from you, but you still forged ahead with me at the battle front to the battle ground, the PHCN complex. Your sheer courage and willpower really motivated me and lots of students and we achieved results though not immediate, this again, you fought out rightly.

My President, I will never also forget our last trip to Abuja together, before your “LAST” trip, I can still picture the both of us cuddled in the hotel room, on the same bed, brainstorming on ways to make FUTASU better, it was this trip that you discussed extensively with me, all your plans for a better and more vibrant student movement in FUTA, it was this trip that really made me know you! We ate from the same plate, the potato chips and egg from that local woman on the road side, which became our regular meal during our stay on Lagos Street, Abuja. That smile of yours whenever we hit a snag in our efforts to ma FUTASU a better and more vibrant union!!! I can’t ever recall seeing you frown!

My dear Julius Adedapo Awopegba [DPO], I write you today that I shall never forget your good for humanity and most especially myself, at any given opportunity in life again, I shall remember you. Julius Adedapo Awopegba, DPO, as you used to say: “it is not over until is over”, there we are and the struggle continues.

Adiue my dear Dapo, like I said this morning, those we started the struggle with have join them and we are still watching the day we shall triumph over them.

May your soul continue to rest in perfect peace.
May God continue to grant your family the fortitude to bear your loss.

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#RamadanKareem too all Muslim faithful worldwide.
May ALLAH [S.W.T], in HIS infinite mercy, accept all acts of worship, in this sacred month and beyond, as an act of ibadah.


This write-up was first published on THURSDAY, MARCH 27, 2003 by IKE ANYA [via].
11 years after, we are back debating the nationwide strike by the medical practitioners in this country.
Any semblance to characters living, dead, re-incarnate or in limbo are REAL. All blunders are mine, please bear with me, thanks in advance as you read, comment and share the post.

In the past month or so, several articles have appeared in the Nigerian press criticising some aspect or other of the practice of Nigerian doctors. It started (I think) with Bolaji Abdullahi’s “Thank God I Am Not a Doctor” in THISDAY, which unleashed a flood of responses. More recently, Rotimi Oyekanmi in a passionate article decried the perceived role of doctors in the care and subsequent demise of his friend and colleague. Even more touching is the letter from a Mr Sule in The Guardian recently, outlining the circumstances of his wife and baby’s deaths in a hospital in Kaduna.

Reading these articles as I sympathised with the families of the bereaved, I was also conscious of the fact that often, bereaved families feel not enough has been done to save their relation. This is a natural human response and most health workers learn in the course of their careers to accept this with equanimity. I am also conscious of the fact of the very difficult circumstances under which doctors and other health workers in Nigeria work. I am pleased that these articles are being written and that hopefully a debate is being opened which for a long time has been avoided or ignored. There is a need for the Nigerian populace to ask certain pertinent questions – What type of health service do we want? How do we intend to achieve it? Nigerian doctors need to ask – What is our role in the context of the wider population? What do we intend to achieve? What is our motivation? What is behind the recent media onslaught? What can we do to restore our image and credibility? How can we best serve our patients? How can we act more effectively as advocates for the health services? The media have a key role to play in raising awareness of these issues and also must re-examine their own roles in this context.

Oyekanmi in his article for instance refers to the fact that many beds in the hospital ward lacked bed sheets and that there were only a few nurses to take care of a large ward and no doctor available on the ward. This merely underlines the paucity of resources that is the lot of the Nigerian health sector today. While I accept that mismanagement of resources is also a common phenomenon, I would argue that within the context of Nigeria, that is hardly surprising. I would further argue that accepting that corruption and mismanagement runs through all sectors of Nigerian society, the resources allocated to health fall short of what is needed to produce desired results. The continued brain drain of health professionals to other countries is part of the problem. Too often, attempts at analysing the brain drain have focused solely on remuneration.

Having worked in various health services in Nigeria, I am familiar with some of the problems that result in the sorts of complaints in these articles.

In the first instance strengthening primary care and prevention efforts is key as this will actually reduce the demand on secondary and tertiary care. I am aware that several primary health care centres were planned by the present government, but am unsure if they were completed to schedule and if they are producing the desired impact.

Secondly, improving the working conditions of health workers is important and by this I do not mean the ubiquitous salary increases alone. Paying doctors and nurses a million naira a month without providing them the infrastructure they need to work effectively will yield no results. That is not to say that adequate remuneration is not an important factor in motivating health workers. Nor has the present or indeed previous governments done enough strategic planning in this area. In this regard, I had first-hand experience of the attitude of some key government officials during the 2001 resident doctors’ strike. There were proposals from the NMA [Nigerian Medical Association]and the NARD [National Association of Resident Doctors]to put in place a mechanism that would have guaranteed regular, seamless review and adjustments of doctors’ salaries and allowances and fore closed the issue of strikes in the health sector but these were rejected in the most cavalier way. Little wonder two years later, there is still talk of strikes in the health sector.

The other role that needs to be strengthened is the role of the wider public. Patients have a right to care and must demand this right. The media and organisations like the Centre for the Right to Health have key roles to help sensitize the public on this. Such a movement can result in positive changes for the health system as a whole. Lawyers as well have a role to play in this, in ensuring that patients who suffer from a doctor’s negligence gain redress. In doing this, traditional perceptions of justice and letting sleeping dogs lie may need to be challenged. Medicine like any other profession has its bad eggs and it augurs well for society to admit to this and have channels of redress open for victims. But it is not only in fighting negligence and demanding care that the wider public and the media have a role to play. They also need to demand of the government adequate funding for health services. The importance of electing public officials with a clearly defined health agenda is key in this regard. Indeed to paraphrase a well-worn cliché, a society gets the health services it deserves, or as the Pidgin saying goes “Good soup na money kill am”.

The quality of health reporting in Nigerian newspapers for instance leaves a lot to be desired. One would expect that a reporter on the health beat should have an adequate grasp of the issues and terminology of medicine and health. However, one daily sees examples of mis-spelt words, wrong conclusions drawn, faulty statistics proffered and a general desire for sensationalism in the Nigerian health press. Can an inarticulate and uninformed press be an effective watchdog for the medical profession and the public? Organisations like Journalists Against AIDS have blazed the trail in organising media workshops and training materials on HIV/AIDS but a lot more needs to be done in a wider health context.

Nigerian medical doctors must also be more introspective and seek new ways of dealing with the challenges they face in a changing world. A growing number of articulate patients, a widening of information sources and changes in the traditional perception of doctors and the medical profession all mean that new ways of working must be explored. In this regard, it is heartening to note the Medical and Dental Council’s introduction of Continuing Medical Education where doctors will statutorily be required to undergo re-validation from time to time to ensure the quality of their practice.

Yet more needs to be done. The current system of postgraduate medical education needs to be re-examined. A system that regularly records 20 per cent pass or less must have something fundamentally wrong with it. Either the wrong people are being admitted into the programme (unlikely- as these are very competitive schemes) or the training prepares them inadequately for the examinations, in which case, the structure and content of training needs to be overhauled. In like manner, clinical governance and audit are concepts that need to be introduced more widely into the Nigerian health care delivery system. This, in simple terms involve looking at the quality of a doctor’s work, not necessarily in a judgmental manner but in order to help them improve the quality of their service. So a doctor in effect could ask himself – How many patients have I treated in the last six months? What was the outcome of the treatment? Do my standards compare with those of my other colleagues in the same environment? How can I make my service better? This will go a long way in improving the quality of service. Of course, there are constraints. The average Nigerian doctor and indeed health worker is overworked and introducing audit may appear to increase the workload. However, in the long run, this is a concept that is likely to prove beneficial to doctors, the government and the wider public.

Nigerian medical doctors and health workers also need to rethink the concept of their traditional roles and determine effective working systems and patterns that put patients and their interests at the heart of the system. The continual squabbling over assignation of roles has not been to the benefit of patients. Mutual respect and recognition of complementary efforts is essential to building better and more effective working partnerships.

There is also a need for better regulation of the private medical sector. A friend recently carrying out a research project in private hospitals in a South Eastern state was shocked to discover that the state Ministry of Health could not furnish him with an up-to-date list of private clinics in the area. How then can standards be checked and maintained? The Guild of Medical Directors and the Nigerian Medical Association have an important role to play in this regard as self-policing agents. The message is if you do not police yourself adequately, others will do it for you, to your detriment. The unchecked proliferation of private hospitals may ultimately be doing more harm than good to the population. A situation where virtually anyone can open a “specialist hospital” is fraught with dangers.

In the final analysis, the ailments of Nigeria’s health system are by and large reflections of the ailments of the wider polity. The bottom line in all this is a reconfiguration of leadership, followership and the wider Nigerian society. Yet within this disordered setting, certain challenges present themselves, which can be turned into opportunities.

In writing this article, I am conscious that not a few feathers will be ruffled. I expect that eyebrows will be raised at me, a Nigerian doctor working abroad daring to prescribe solutions for the health system I have abandoned. To such critics I say that it is precisely because of that distance that I can dare to write this article and explore new and possibly subversive concepts in the search for positive change. I hope that it contributes to the debate and furthermore opens up concrete channels of improving the health of Nigeria’s teeming population. – By IKE ANYA [].

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