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My take on Nigeria’s proposed change

It’s been a month since ‘power changed hands’ like my MFM people like to say and Nigerians have been waiting and waiting to see the light at the end of the tunnel that was promised when General Muhammadu Buhari took over.

Now we all know he was handed over a beat down, scrap metal car that refuses to start whose previous owners had not even finished paying for and he is supposedly expected to pimp this ride to the latest ultra-sophisticated model out there which by any standards is quite a feat but my Math teacher used to say the working of the problem is as important as the end result. There is no way GMB is gonna do things the same way they have always been done and yet expect different results.

Here are 7 things that really do need to change if his policies and governance are gonna be anything near successful:

Your excellency this is for you:

  1. Get rid of the old cargo! The treacherous cycle of never do well politicians has left a dirty stain on our economy. Yet everywhere I turn these expired and quite rotten delegates are being recycled and shoved down our throats as if they had any more room to keep their continually amassing loot. GMB these politicians need a forced retirement. Please do not dance to the ‘if you can’t beat them join them’ tune. These old men are corrupt, greedy, wasteful and heartless. Nigeria is for all of us and not a few of us. Please flush that toilet as they have begun to really stink! I watched the fight at the National Assembly with gross disdain. Are these hoodlums the people supposed to have our best interest at heart and bring change to Nigeria? The same people who earn more than senators worldwide when Nigeria is in severe economic depression, unable to pay salaries, borrowing left, right and center and with its majority living on less than a dollar a day? This is pure tyranny. Those over fed touts need to go: ALL OF THEM!

  2. GMB we seriously need to look into this light issue. For heaven sake this is 2015. How will we ever become an industrialized nation if we can’t even guarantee basic power supply? POWER MUST CHANGE HANDS! We need an overhaul of our power supply. Find a country that has been able to provide power for its citizens against all odds and seek professional help from them. You have our permission as a country to fire the buffoons at the top seeing as they have failed to do the job and have already fed themselves and their generations fat on squandered funds. You can’t do four years and not make the power supply steady and seeing as majority of your foot soldiers are corrupt already I wonder how you are gonna pull this off. It isn’t enough to have good intentions GEJ had them and it got us nowhere!

  3. Well done on firing the NNPC board now please get EFCC to probe them, we need our money back. I laugh anytime Nigerians boast about being an oil producing country. Yes we have oil but a handful of individuals own the oil blocks and oil wells like it’s a shop they bought in Alade market. It’s ridiculous if you ask me. And why on earth can’t we fix our refineries? Exporting crude oil to have it refined is absolute rubbish, especially with all the graduates and skilled work force Nigeria is supposed to have. I know we are all sick of the endless fuel scarcity, GMB please don’t stop till you win where our fuel is concerned!

  4. There were male suicide bombers then we lost a whole lot of women and now there are female suicide bombers. Does that not tell you something? GMB BRING BACK OUR GIRLS!!! They have been raped, starved, abused, neglected, forsaken and now are being brainwashed. Please do something! You have become the father of Nigeria and what father would sleep a wink while his children lay with their abductors?

  5. The ministerial list that everyone is waiting for with bated breaths: GMB please do not fall our hands by recycling dirty politicians, our disappointment in you would be epic! Please take your time to find honest, skilled men and women who have great track records and even greater potential and who have never been involved in Nigeria’s politics and give them the country to run. Take a cue from Pharaoh who made Joseph-the slave the prime minister because he saw something in him that his governors didn’t have and it saved a country. I beg you, out with the old, in with the new.

  6. The health sector needs an overhaul. I am tired of the strikes, the discord, the seeming injustice to the health workers and the lives wasted as a result of industrial action and do I need to mention the deplorable state of the facilities? The doctors are not the enemy, Nigeria has become a country where the government only responds to industrial action instead of dialogue. Please change this, we cannot continue like this.

  7. Job creation and mass education: Crime will not reduce unless Nigerians have jobs and can live on hard work. It will not reduce unless Nigerians see that being a tout, a corrupt politician or a fraudster is not the only way to vast wealth. Crime will not reduce if you do not stop the celebration of dishonesty and corruption in this country! We need jobs, we need education, we need entrepreneurs! For every good imported that can be home grown set up an industry and a market for it that would give graduates and school leavers the necessary work they require to get by. Stop the exportation of our most skilled workers by giving them relevance in this country. We cannot build a greater Nigeria without empowering our people.

I am sure there are many more things that we ordinary Nigerians would love to draw your attention to and if you have any ideas please drop them in the comments section. We all need to do more than complain and right now GMB needs all the help he can get. Let us all work together to make Nigeria a better place and to do away with corruption once and for all.

God bless Nigeria!!!

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Posted by on June 28, 2015 in Inspirational

 

Tags: , , , ,

Working with the wrong tools!

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I recently became a professional makeup artist. I have always had a passion for makeup and wanted to make everyone around me look beautiful. So I did the needful, went to a renown makeup school, registered the business, bought the best makeup tools I could find and practiced with most of my spare time (you’d be surprised how much spare time a doctor can have when it’s for a potential money generating passion hehehe). I even taught myself how to tie gele something I had always abhorred doing (the janded makeup school didn’t have that in their curriculum) and even got pretty good at it but something was missing. The photos of my work didn’t have that wow factor on social media, they were nice no doubt but still not comparable to the makeup artists that I looked up to! It wasn’t my technique, I looked and looked to make sure there wasn’t something I was doing wrong when I painted those faces. It wasn’t the quality of my makeup either so what was it?

This weekend two good friends of mine told me what it was…Moleye and Kay spelt it out clearly and one must be grateful to have friends who encourage your work especially with helpful criticism. I needed a new camera simple. It had never once occurred to me that taking shots of my models with my blackberry Z10 camera was like shooting myself in the foot. After all the phone is supposed to be pretty decent ay? Well it has an 8 mega pixel camera but like Kay aptly said, he owned a camera with more pixels way back in 2008! (Way to go Blackberry, thanks for nothing.)

I felt like a hard working farmer who goes to the farm with a chain saw and tries to dig up the soil with it. OK maybe I am exagerrating with that analogy but it sure did get me thinking. There are so many people who are stuck in a rot because they are using the wrong tools for the job. Are you getting frustrated because you work so hard and for so long and yet other people seem to be getting far more out of it than you are? You need a tool check. Here’s my check list and it applies to every aspect of your life. Hope you find it as helpful as I did! Meanwhile the search is on for the best camera or phone for a rookie makeup artist. Please send in a comment if you have the answer. 😉

So here’s the tool appraisal checklist:

  1. Is there a better tool you could use to carry out this same task? Find out from people in the same field as you are + Google is your friend!

  2. Do you have the expertise required to make the most out of your existing tool? There are numerous short courses to help you on the Internet. Your problem might not be solved by a change of tools if you haven’t learnt the necessary know-how.

  3. Is this what you ought to be doing? No matter how great your existing tool is, if this is not what you are meant to be doing you will not make the headway you are supposed to. A supermodel would suck at farming even if she knew what to do and had a hoe. You can’t be strutting the farm yard like it’s a catwalk, find your calling before it’s too late! Simply put, it’s also one of the main reasons why guy A will be mega rich doing the same hustle that guy B has been struggling to do for a decade!

  4. Do you actually need the tool? Sometimes a malfunctioning tool might just be an unnecessary tool. You will never know if you can do the job without that tool unless the tool gave you drama right?

  5. What other tools do you need? Since you are doing an appraisal get it right this time. The world rarely gives you time for a second impression much less a third. Be the best you can be when you need to be so if you feel you are not bringing it yet, you need to make the change once and for all cos you may not get a third chance!

Have a fab week people and I hope that the week will be as peaceful as yesterday’s elections were and may the best man lead this great nation. I hope you all voted and didn’t sit pretty waiting for the elections to come and go. I couldn’t vote sadly, I registered in Lagos and I work outside Lagos and since Friday wasn’t a public holiday (I was hoping it would be), I couldn’t travel to Lagos to vote but the turnout was impressive. God bless Nigerians. Heard about some bribery that went on at some polling booths with Nigerians getting 5000 naira if they showed evidence that they voted for a particular party and have also seen a lot of unverified results making the rounds on social media. Please let’s all be patient and wait for INEC to officially announce the results to avoid stirring up trouble.

God bless this nation.

Lots of love Chutzpah fam, xoxoxo

 
2 Comments

Posted by on March 29, 2015 in Inspirational

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Gerrout!

This is a story  by Dr Fada Fajuitan that is told from two angles. A rather long but thought provoking read…

“GERROOUT”

A tale of two stories

Story 1

“GERROOUT!”  The solitary vein on Scarfaces forehead looked about to burst.

This is not the beginning of the story, neither is it the end. Truth be told, Scarface is not an Italian drug lord. Scarface is a Nigerian, Yoruba sef.

We should start this story from the beginning it’s just a bit difficult to decipher where that should be. Is it the useless bus that broke down kilometres from his bus stop? Or the greedy transporters that charged triple the usual fare from Ojota in Lagos to Iwo-Road in Ibadan. In fact as far as Fresh-Boy was concerned that was the beginning. He reasoned that if he hadn’t been flat out broke, he would have taken a taxi from Iwo-Road rather than the useless bus and therefore would have never met Scarface. So that’s the beginning of his story.

Ojota, Lagos at 8 am on the 31st of December 2014 he was fleeced by greedy transporters. A journey that would usually cost N1000 suddenly cost N3000 overnight.   Now because of the holidays the greedy transporters tripled the fare. Fresh-Boy would have shouted and caused a major commotion but decided against that when he saw other passengers paying the fare without even a hint of unwillingness. This was a fight he wouldn’t win without support and it didn’t look like he was going to get any. Besides as Fresh-Boy, he couldn’t bring down his rep by arguing with those local touts. Hin no dey dia level at all.

So that’s his beginning the 3k, as he would call it. The only snag is that there’s a lot of time between the 3k and most of the story where nothing really happened. In fact only two things of note happened between Ojota and Iwo-Road. The first was the traffic at Berger because of the fallen tanker which is of no concern to us and the second was the MASSIVE road re-construction going on at the Lagos-Ibadan expressway. Fresh-Boy took several pictures of the re-constructed parts and posted them on facebook and twitter with the hashtags #GEJTRANSFORMATION, #FOWARDWITHGEJ, #GEJ2015 for the rest of the journey he checked his phone frequently for comments, retweets and mentions. Fellow Jonathanians did not disappoint him and the bad belle Buharists were also buzzing around his posts with their bitterness and spite. Of course he didn’t take pictures of the pot hole ridden parts of the road there is no point giving your enemies the weapons to fight you with.

The reader might wonder what “GERRROOUT!” has to do with #GEJ. Well, that’s why I said it’s difficult to pinpoint the beginning of the story but be rest assured, they are all parts of the story.

Now, the time between the hashtags and the scream is about 3hrs a lot of time with nothing much happening but one thing. He got to Iwo-Road, discovered that he was too broke to take a taxi and boarded the useless bus from Iwo-Road bus stop to Ashi. The bus never got to Ashi with him as a passenger on that trip.

The useless bus was a Liteace bus. He knew this not because the name Liteace was visible anywhere on the bus but because haven spent the first 18yrs of his life in Ibadan he had to know what a Liteace bus looked like. They were the standard means of mini-van transportation in Ibadan and were all in varying stages of decay. This particular useless one belonged on a scrap heap. It was little more than a metal box with four wheels and a sorry engine.  The ‘little more’ part were the planks of wood for passengers to sit on. Anyway, taking a taxi would have cost at least N500 an amount he definitely didn’t have so the useless bus was his only option.

As with most useless buses in Ibadan it broke down kilometres from its destination.

“Ki lo tun se oko yi” the driver frantically asked no one in particular as he tried to restart the vehicle. Both the driver and conductor jumped down and started reaching under seats for screw drivers and what-nots.

“E jor e ma binu” the driver said this time looking at the passengers, “boya batiri re ni”.

Fresh-Boy was having none of it, “abeg I wan come down” he said to the passenger between him and the door. This was Ibadan passengers don’t pay until they get to their destinations, very much unlike Lagos where passengers have to pay immediately they get into the bus, so there was no way he was paying one naira for this half trip. Hell no.

“Se wa ni san nkankan ni” the hapless driver said eyeing Fresh-Boy.

Fresh-Boy turned to give him a stare so ferocious the driver immediately backed down.

“Oga o” the driver said giving up on any chance of getting some money from this passenger as he watched Fresh-Boy walk away.

So Fresh-Boy a few kilometres from his destination was walking under the scorching sun looking out for another means of transportation, another mini-van or even a bike. He realised that by not paying the driver of the useless bus he had saved N50 from the N100 he was meant to pay for the journey from Iwo-Road and since there was no other means of transportation in sight he decided to use the extra N50 to buy water. There was no point in dying from thirst. He looked down the road and saw provisions store not too far off.

“Abeg u get chilled bottled water” he asked the woman in the store.

“fifty naira” she replied.

Two gulps of chilled water later…… “Ahhhhh” the exhilarating exhale of a man after two gulps of chilled water under the scorching Ibadan sun. This is a feeling second only to finally shitting when having diarrhea and the toilet is far.

That was when he heard it.

“Jonathan is clueless”, this was coming from a man in the corner of the store. On any other day Fresh-Boy would have tackled such a statement straight away and defended the president but with his thirst to quench, politics could wait. He continued taking precious gulps from the bottle of water.

“Osi ni man yen se l’Abuja” the man continued, “o kan je owo wa lasan ni”.

Fresh-Boy took a closer look at the source of these annoying statements and immediately noticed the tribal marks on the face of the man sitting in the corner reading a newspaper. Scarface must be another Jonathan hater.

“After spending one billion on just food alone he cannot think again” Scarface continued switching to English.

Scarface finally looked up from the newspaper to look at the other people in the store and as with most men discussing politics with themselves he tried to draw people around him into the conversation.

“Imagine, boko-haram attacked two state capitals and all our president could do is condemn, condole and promise to stop the insurgency” he said staring directly at Fresh-Boy.

Fresh-Boy started getting irritated. It was bad enough that this man was disturbing him with unnecessary chatter but the insults to the president were really annoying him. He wanted to point out the fact that federal troops were pushing the insurgents out of major towns in the north-east but he wasn’t going to. He wouldn’t give Scarface the pleasure of a debate.

Noticing that Fresh-Boy wasn’t giving him the time of the day Scarface decided to throw one last insult at the president before returning to his newspaper. “President of the dead and the dying” he said as he readjusted the newspaper to continue reading.

This was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“I am neither dead nor dying sir”, Fresh-Boy shot back. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“So you think Jonathan is not killing Nigerians?” Scarface said folding the newspaper and putting it down. It was obvious he was relishing the possibility of a debate.

Fresh-Boy was up to it. People like Scarface never saw anything good in the president, they were always on the lookout for faults. Such people were all over twitter and facebook and he was used to tackling them there. This was an opportunity to tackle one in real life.

“Sir the president is trying his best it is not easy to govern a local government let alone a whole country”

“Well his best is not good enough” Scarface replied with a finality that further irritated Fresh-Boy.

“A president who stopped ebola from spreading all over the country, a president who transformed the agriculture sector, a president that brought trains back to Nigeria, the man built 9 new federal universities, he built 125 almajiri schools to help those backward northerners. In fact during his presidency guinea worm was eradicated in Nigeria and polio cases reduced from over fifty in last year to just four in this year”. Fresh-Boy wasn’t too sure that all he was saying was the absolute truth but he knew that on social media these were the points argued in favour of the president. He was spewing them out staccato.

“Sir, I am just coming from Lagos and I witnessed the massive repair work going on at Lagos-Ibadan expressway, a road that had been abandoned for years” Fresh-Boy was on a roll. “In Lagos, Apapa-Oshodi expressway is also undergoing massive repairs, go to the airports and see transformation, the whole of eastern Nigeria had no international airport until Jonathan upgraded Enugu airport, work has started on the second Niger bridge and the dredging of River Niger up to Lokoja is almost complete.” Fresh-Boy was in his elements, he knew most of these things from the PDP twitter overlords on his TL and the information was now proving very useful. Let this Jonathan hater counter his points if he could.

“My friend your first statement is wrong, it was Fashola that stopped ebola jor” Scarface smirked.

Fresh-Boy couldn’t believe his own ears, of all the points he put forward it was this one Scarface decided to pick on? Anyway he had an answer to that.

“Was it Fashola that stopped it in Port-Harcourt also?” Fresh-Boy shot back.

“That was Ameachi” Scarface replied still smirking. “Young man, you seem to like this Jonathan man abi?” Scarface continued. “Oya let me counter you”. Scarface adjusted himself on the chair and leaned forward.

“First of all, if not for Fashola and his Lagos people ebola would have finished us in the country.” The smirk didn’t seem ready to leave his face. “Now, let’s talk about the economy. Do you know the current exchange rate for the dollar? Do you know the price of crude oil? This government has managed this economy so badly. They have even spent all the money Obasanjo saved yet there is no improvement in the life of the common man. You talk about airports, go to MMA1 and see how bad it is, I hear the place now smells because the ACs are bad and the toilets are not cleaned regularly. That is our number one airport o” Scarface paused staring at Fresh-boy.

Fresh-Boy wasn’t sure the airport was that bad but he had no proof. He hadn’t been there in a year and the place looked pretty bad the last time he was there, but not as bad as Scarface painted it.

Scarface noticed that fresh-Boy was a bit subdued and he decided to charge on with his own arguments.

“Let me continue. All these transformation they keep talking about, where is the transformation?” Scarface paused once again for effect. ”Do you know that in 2013 Jonathan went to CNN and told the world that by December there would be stable electricity in Nigeria. That was last year o, 2014 is about to end still no light.” Fresh-Boy had to endure another Scarface pause for effect.

“That is not all, two hundred and something girls were abducted since April and their president did not even bother. It was not until that Malala girl came to Nigeria that he decided to meet their parents. Is that a president?”

“That is Borno State government’s fault o” Fresh-Boy found his voice.

“Even if their abduction was the fault of Borno States government, Jonathan as president should have mobilised all available resources to rescue them as soon as possible. But no, he would just sit in Abuja and continue to condemn, condole and promise. Now another almost 200 women and children were abducted which you should know, except you don’t read the paper” Scarface now had that annoying attitude of someone who feels like he knew more than the person he was talking to.

“That’s not all o. All those road works you mentioned are just patch patch work if you don’t know. Other governments have done it before, give them one year, the pot holes will return. The agriculture one too, has it reduced the price of yam in the market?” Scarface was now obviously gloating.

“Answer na!” he continued. “Do you know when last federal workers were paid?”

If only this was twitter, he knew people on his TL he could rely on to finish this man. Fresh-Boy really needed to study more on Jonathans’ achievements to be able to campaign for him off social media. He decided to reach for his personal joker.

“Sir, which government has done YOUWIN for the youths of this country?” This one he was very sure of. His own brother had participated in and won during YOUWIN3 and he himself was preparing his business plan for YOUWIN4. No one could tell him YOUWIN was fake. His brother now employed 14 young men and women, 2 of them being graduates. In fact, this was the reason he was spending the New Year holiday in Ibadan rather than in the village with his parents or in Lagos. He wanted to take pictures of his brothers business and post them on facebook and twitter as proof of Jonathans achievements.

While both men argued back and forth, neither noticed the bored woman in the store with them. After selling the bottle of water to Fresh-Boy she had picked up her phone and was busy with it. When the men started arguing politics she plugged the ear-phones connected to the phone in her ears. She hated politics and couldn’t didn’t like the fact that her dad liked to argue politics so much.

Now the reader is wondering why we suddenly remembered the woman in the store. You see, she happens to be to daughter of Scarface and would play a minor role as the story unfolds. So we have to re-introduce her.

Let’s get back to the arguing men.

“You want to talk about youth employment abi? Do you know about the youths that died during the immigration interview?” Scarface said.

Now, the bored woman in the store was not really listening to anything on her phone, she was just trying to block out the conversation. When her father mentioned the immigration interview a look of worry crossed her face. She took off the ear-phones and turned to look at her father.

“That was an unfortunate incident sir” Fresh-Boy retorted

“Unfortunate incident?” Scarface said getting up from his seat. “You call a poorly planned exercise where millions of applicants were packed like sardines into venues to write an exam at the same time and they had to climb on each other just to breathe an unfortunate incident?” Scarface was beginning to raise his voice.

“Those youths were unruly, all they had to do was be patient” if this was going to turn to a shouting match, Fresh-Boy was ready for it.

“You said?” Scarfaces’ voice was suddenly low and icy. His eyes had turned to slits. The woman had gotten up from her seat and now looked very worried.

Fresh-Boy didn’t notice the tension. “I said they were UNRULY”.

That’s when it happened.

“GERROOUT!”  The solitary vein on Scarfaces forehead looked about to burst. Suddenly it was like there was a wild beast in the store. Goods were flying in different directions as Scarface charged at Fresh-Boy and he would have mowed him down if his daughter hadn’t held his hand.

“Daddy, please calm down” she begged.

The fiery anger in Scarfaces’ eyes would have destroyed Fresh-Boy if it could be converted to some kind of energy.

“Daddy, e jor e ma binu” the woman continued has she held Scarface.

Dazed and confused Fresh-Boy turned to go out. He couldn’t understand what he could have said that would cause this amount of anger. As far as he was concerned this was even a low point in his argument.

As he made to step out of the store he heard something that made him turn back.

“I’m sorry” this came from Scarface. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you”. The anguish on Scarfaces’ face seemed to have suddenly drained him of all his energy. He collapsed into his chair buried his face in his hands and started crying silently. Fresh-Boy wouldn’t have guessed he was crying but for the heaving of his shoulders.

The dramatic turn of events further confused Fresh-Boy.

“My sister was one of those that died during the Immigrations recruitment exercise” the woman in the store said seeing the confusion on Fresh-Boys face. “We haven’t fully recovered from the shock and my dad was worst hit” she continued

“Oh my God” Fresh-Boy could feel the family grief. “I’m so sorry sir” he said.

“No, I should apologise, I shouldn’t have brought up the topic” Scarface said. At this time Fresh-Boy didn’t want to call him Scarface anymore. He felt like an evil person with the nickname he had given the man. He decided he wouldn’t leave without at least making some amends.

“I am Nonso sir” he said stretching out his hands to shake the man.

“Mr Kamorudeen” the man replied grasping his hand.

At that moment Nonso looked into Mr Kamorudeens’ eyes and so not a political opponent, not a Jonathan hater but a hurting man. A man who wanted to give his family the best but felt he had betrayed them. He saw a fellow Nigerian in the struggle for a better tomorrow.


 Story 2

Someday before March 16th

“GERROOUT!” Daddy Ibidun was livid. Was this man saying Ibidun was unruly? That she caused her own death? His fury unfortunately wasn’t all directed at the man in front of him. Some of it was directed at himself. He had always felt guilty. That somehow he had caused the death of his daughter. And the man standing in front of him seemed to be pointing fingers at him, accusing him of killing his precious Ibidun. Ibidun was not unruly, she could never be. She was the most focused and organised person he knew. Somehow, he was the unruly one. It was his being unruly that pushed her to her death.

Kemi was beside him trying to tell him something but he couldn’t hear her through his rage. The tears welled up in his eyes and he collapsed into his chair. He buried his face in his hands and started crying.

Now, this story has a definite beginning.

It all started when Ibidun received the text. The text was the messenger of death.

They were all in the sitting room that evening watching TV, or let’s just say they were all in the sitting room and the TV was on. No one was watching it. Mummy Ibidun was calculating the days returns from her shop, kemi was busy with the internet on her phone, Sola was playing a game on his mothers’ phone in the corner, Ibidun who had come home from Lagos for the weekend was loosening her hair and he was reading the days papers.

Ibiduns’ phone vibrated and she paused her hair works to check it.

“Daddy awon immigration ma pe wa fun interview” she said turning to her father.

Though her mother was in the same room, she called Daddy first. It had always been like that. She was daddys’ girl. The bond between her and her father was something her mother and siblings neither understood nor could get in between. When she was a baby, he was the only person that could get her to sleep. It went as far back as that.

He folded the newspaper and put it down to answer his daughter. “Iyen da, that’s good. So ojo wo ni wan fe se?” he asked switching between his native language and English as is common with most Nigerians.

“Daddy you think I should go for the examination” Ibidun asked. She knew her Dad didn’t think much of her present job. She was working with an IT firm and though the pay was just thirty five thousand naira after taxes she loved the job. She had always wanted to work with computers and had even had to stay at home for three years before finally securing admission to study computer science at LAUTECH. Now she loved the job but hated the pay. Thirty five thousand naira is not the kind of salary a graduate should be earning for working from 8 am till 6 pm Monday to Friday in a city like Lagos.

Daddy Ibidun also knew his daughter was considering not going for the examination. “Ibidun, let’s look at it this way” he wanted to sway her to his argument. “If you go for the examination and secure the job it would be a big plus. This is a secure government job with a good salary and I’m sure with your qualifications you would be deployed to their IT department. If you don’t secure the job, you can always go back to your current job. This is a win-win. On the other hand if you don’t go, you might be missing out on a great opportunity to further your career in your chosen field”

He knew he had convinced her, besides he could always make Ibidun see things from his point of view so she was likely to agree with him anyway.

“Daddy, I am tired of applying for these government jobs. You have to know someone to get one” she said in a last ditch effort to avoid going for the examination. They both knew how many times she had rushed off to one government job interview or the other without success. Her graduating grade of second-class lower was also not helping with the corporate world. She had finally settled for the thirty five thousand naira job after years of a futile search for a good job with good pay.

Daddy Ibidun on the other hand wasn’t about to give up. He himself worked at the federal secretariat in Ibadan and as far as he was concerned this was the next best sector after oil and gas. Nowadays, even his friends in the banking sector envied him. He wasn’t doing badly.

“But you can’t continue with that you job na.” he said countering her. “What day is the interview jor” he continued.

“March 16th, it’s going to be nationwide so I can write it in Lagos” she replied.

“No o, o ma better to ba se l’Abuja. I will call Mr Priye, he will help with the processing”. Daddy Ibidun was taking no chances this time. If he had to, he would pull strings to get his daughter this job. Mr Priye was his colleague in Abuja and the man had a lot of contacts in high places.

“In fact let me call him now” he continued.

“Ok sir” Ibidun said. She knew she really had no choice at this point.

 

March 16th

Daddy Ibidun can neither be described as a muslim or a Christian. Sure, he was born into a muslim family but this man hadn’t gone to a mosque in years and at the rate he visited the local bar, he could receive a customer of the year award but he believed in God and occasionally said a prayer when the situation demanded one.

The morning of March 16th was one of such times. His wife, Mummy Ibidun was to undergo surgery for fibroids that day and his daughter Ibidun was to write the immigrations examination that morning also. So he prayed that morning. He sat on the bare floor in a corner of the room and prayed. The last time he prayed was when Kemi ran off with a good for nothing man. His prayers were answered then as she returned contrite. He believed his prayers would be answered now also. The main crux of his prayer was his wife’s surgery but since he was already praying, he might as well throw in a prayer for his daughter also.

On his way to the hospital that morning, he noticed several young men and women in white tee shirts and shorts on the streets. He was shocked at their large number as he knew they were all going to the Ibadan venue of the same examination Ibidun was writing that morning.

Now, the surgery his wife was to undergo that day is not the story here but it is inextricably connected to it. The surgery itself went on without undue incident. Mummy Ibidun was out of the theatre in a few hours and she was wheeled into the recovery room. A few minutes later the doctor called Daddy Ibidun to his consulting room to brief him on the outcome of the surgery.

“Sir we were able to remove 3 large sub-serous and one large sub-mucous fibroids amongst many others” the doctor said.

Daddy Ibidun had no idea what sub-serous or sub-mucous meant and he wasn’t interested in knowing at that point.

“Is my wife going to be alright?” was all he asked

“Definitely sir, she is still drowsy from the anaesthesia but I’m sure that in a short while…………” the doctor didn’t finish his sentence as Daddy Ibidun’s phone started ringing.

“Hello Mr Priye, please can you call me back, I’m a bit busy” Daddy Ibidun said as he picked up the phone. Mr Priye probably called to give him a progress report on Ibiduns immigrations job application. This wasn’t the time to discuss job applications.

“Ehen, doctor you were saying?” he said cutting the call as he was about to cut the call.

“Yes, as I was saying, the surgery went on fine, your wife ………” once again he was cut short by Daddy Ibidun’s ringing phone.

Once again it was Mr Priye. It just might be that he needed to speak with one of Mr Priyes contantcts. That was probably why Mr Priye was insistent on talking to him at that particular time.

“Sorry doctor, please let my answer this call, it’s about my daughter” Daddy Ibidun apologised as he made to pick his phone

“Hello Mr Priye, thanks for all you’re doing for Ibidun o, I’m really grateful. So how is her application processing going?” he said

A few minutes later Daddy Ibidun was being revived in the doctors consulting room. Mr Priye wasn’t calling to give a progress report on Ibiduns application. He was calling to inform her father that he had just identified Ibiduns lifeless body in a morgue. She had died during a stampede at the examination centre.

The centre in his life fell out that day. Daddy Ibidun was never the same person again.

Shortly after the incident the president condoled with the bereaved and announced that siblings of the dead would be given automatic employment. That wouldn’t bring his precious Ibidun back but even that promise was never fulfilled. Neither Kemi nor Sola got a job offer from the government. The government simply forgot about the incident and moved on leaving the bereaved families to mourn their loss. Daddy Ibidun was worst hit. He felt he had sent his own daughter to her death when all he wanted was a better future for her.

December 31st

As with all civil servants, Daddy Ibidun woke up on the 31st of December and prepared to go to work knowing fully well that not much work would be done that day. He wasn’t disappointed. When he got to the office most of his colleagues just came in, signed in, hung around discussing the coming year for a while then took off. By 11 am most of the secretariat was empty and he decided there was not much staying at work. Besides he wasn’t interested in the discussions. The gloom over him following his daughters’ death hadn’t fully lifted and discussing a future without her in it wasn’t something he wanted to do. So he took permission from his boss to close early.

On his way home he bought the days newspaper as usual but decided to make a detour to his wife’s shop rather than go straight home. There wouldn’t be anyone at home anyway.

His wife wasn’t in the shop when he got there as she had gone to deposit some money at the bank before it closed for the holiday so his second daughter Kemi was manning the shop.

“Daddy e k’abo” she said when she saw him “You left work early today”

“Yes, there’s really no work today and most people left early” he replied as he pulled up a chair to sit on. He opened the newspaper he bought to read and as is usual nowadays the headlines were of Boko Haram activities and government corruption.

The major editorial was about the missing girls. The plight of the girls made him remember his own daughters’ death and anger towards the president rose in his heart.

“Jonathan is clueless” he said looking up for approval. That was when he noticed the customer in the shop. He was one of those young men who tried as much as possible to look and sound like all those musicians on dstv. In his mind he automatically christened the young man Hip-Pop.

Hip-Pop was not interested in discussing with him on the presidents’ lack of clues so Daddy Ibidun went back to his reading.

“Osi ni man yen se l’Abuja” Daddy Ibidun continued to himself. “O kan je owo was lasan ni”

The editorial further described the lack of equipment facing the soldiers on the front while their superiors wine and dine with the president in Abuja and this further infuriated Daddy Ibidun.

“After spending one billion on just food alone he cannot think again” Daddy Ibidun continued switching to English.

Daddy Ibidun once again looked up from the newspaper to look at the other people in the store and as with most men discussing politics with themselves he tried to draw people around him into the conversation.

“Imagine, boko-haram attacked two state capitals and all our president could do is condemn, condole and promise to stop the insurgency” he said staring directly at Hip-Pop.

Hip-Pop looked like he wasn’t interested in the conversation. Daddy Ibidun felt that was one of the problems with Nigeria. The youth who are the future of the country didn’t seem to be interested in the future of the country. His own children had absolutely no interest in politics despite all his tricks to get them interested. Hip-Pop seemed to be like most other youth.

“President of the dead and the dying” Daddy Ibidun said as he looked down at his newspaper to continue reading.

Hip-Pop answered him this time.

“I am neither dead nor dying sir” Hip-Pop said.

“So you think Jonathan is not killing Nigerians?” Daddy Ibidun said folding the newspaper and putting it down. This youth might still be redeemable from political apathy, he thought.

“Sir the president is trying his best it is not easy to govern a local government let alone a whole country” Hip-Pop said.

That was another problem, Daddy Ibidun thought. With the general poor performance of politicians it was easy to confuse gullible people especially young people into believing that the president was doing his best. If Jonathan knew he couldn’t manage a local government, why did he contest for the presidency?

“Well, his best is not good enough” Daddy Ibidun said to school the youth.

That was when Hip-Pop proved that he knew about some national issues, albeit just a little.

“A president who stopped ebola from spreading all over the country, a president who transformed the agriculture sector, a president that brought trains back to Nigeria, the man built 9 new federal universities, he built 125 almajiri schools to help those backward northerners. In fact during his presidency guinea worm was eradicated in Nigeria and polio cases reduced from over fifty in last year to just four in this year”. Hip-Pop said with passion.

Daddy Ibidun was impressed a bit. The young man had a few facts wrong but he tried anyway. He was now convinced that Hip-Pop was one of those Jonathan supporters. Maybe his parents were members of the same political party as the president.

Apparently the young man wasn’t done reeling out the miserly achievements of the president.

“Sir, I am just coming from Lagos and I witnessed the massive repair work going on at Lagos-Ibadan expressway, a road that had been abandoned for years, in Lagos, Apapa-Oshodi expressway is also undergoing massive repairs, go to the airports and see transformation, the whole of eastern Nigeria had no international airport until Jonathan upgraded Enugu airport, work has started on the second Niger bridge and the dredging of River Niger up to Lokoja is almost complete.”

Well, this young man was obviously interested in what was going on in his country even if he did make some mistakes. Daddy Ibidun took it upon himself to correct the mistakes in Hip-Pops mind.

 

“My friend your first statement is wrong, it was Fashola that stopped ebola jor” Daddy Ibidun said smiling.

“Was it Fashola that stopped it in Port-Harcourt also?” Hip-Pop asked.

“That was Ameachi” Daddy Ibidun replied still smiling. “Young man, you seem to like this Jonathan man abi?” Daddy Ibidun continued. “Oya let me counter you”. Daddy Ibidun adjusted himself on the chair and leaned forward.

“First of all, if not for Fashola and his Lagos people ebola would have finished us in the country.” The smirk didn’t seem ready to leave his face. “Now, let’s talk about the economy. Do you know the current exchange rate for the dollar? Do you know the price of crude oil? This government has managed this economy so badly. They have even spent all the money Obasanjo saved yet there is no improvement in the life of the common man. You talk about airports, go to MMA1 and see how bad it is, I hear the place now smells because the ACs are bad and the toilets are not cleaned regularly. That is our number one airport o” Daddy Ibidun paused to ensure Hip-Pop was following him.

“Let me continue. All these transformation they keep talking about, where is the transformation?” Scarface paused once again for effect. ”Do you know that in 2013 Jonathan went to CNN and told the world that by December there would be stable electricity in Nigeria. That was last year o, 2014 is about to end still no light.” Daddy Ibidun said before another pause. If the young man didn’t get anything from this encounter at least his confidence in the presidents achievements would be shaken.

“That is not all, two hundred and something girls were abducted since April and their president did not even bother. It was not until that Malala girl came to Nigeria that he decided to meet their parents. Is that a president?”  Daddy Ibidun said, this time referring to the article he read in the newspaper.

“That is Borno State governments fault o” Hip-pop finally found his voice.

“Even if their abduction was the fault of Borno States government, Jonathan as president should have mobilised all available resources to rescue them as soon as possible. But no, he would just sit in Abuja and continue to condemn, condole and promise. Now another almost 200 women and children were abducted which you should know, except you don’t read the paper” Daddy Ibidun countered. The young man seemed to desperately want to hold on to his belief in the president and this made Daddy Ibidun smile all the more.

“That’s not all o. All those road works you mentioned are just patch patch work if you don’t know. Other governments have done it before, give them one year, the pot holes will return. The agriculture one too, has it reduced the price of yam in the market?” Daddy Ibidun continued. The young man was now obviously confused.

“Answer na!” he continued. “Do you know when last federal workers were paid?”  He was ready to inform the young man that he himself hadn’t been paid his salary since October.

“Sir, which government has done YOUWIN for the youths of this country?” the young man asked in a last ditch effort to hold on to something worthy about the president.

They were presently not talking about YOUWIN but if the young man wanted to talk about Jonathan’s government and its effects on the youth, well he had some lessons to teach the young man.

While both men argued back and forth, neither noticed Kemi who was in the store with them. After selling the bottle of water to Hip-Pop she had picked up her phone and was busy with it. When the men started arguing politics she plugged the ear-phones connected to the phone in her ears. She hated politics and couldn’t didn’t like the fact that her dad liked to argue politics so much.

“You want to talk about youth employment abi? Do you know about the youths that died during the immigration interview?” Daddy Ibidun said.

This time Kemi looked up. She had a worried look on her face as he mentioned the interview. He felt if that was what it would take to get her to realise that the present government had a hand in her sisters’ death then he would talk about it. Maybe it was time to finally discuss the event and confront the hurt it caused their family.

“That was an unfortunate incident sir” Hip-Pop retorted.

That was the same phrase the government had used to describe it. An event that took the life of his first child and other young Nigerians was nothing more than an unfortunate incident to Jonathan and his apologists. This really got on his nerves.

“Unfortunate incident?” Daddy Ibidun asked getting up from his seat. “You call a poorly planned exercise where millions of applicants were packed like sardines into venues to write an exam at the same time and they had to climb on each other just to breathe an unfortunate incident?” he continued. The young man and his stubborn support for Jonathan had really begun to annoy him.

“Those youths were unruly, all they had to do was be patient” Hip-Pop said raising his voice.

Now, Daddy Ibidun was really angry.

“You said?” He asked. Was this American gangsta wannabe saying his own Ibidun was unruly. Was this good for nothing scum of the earth saying his precious daughter caused her own death.

He didn’t notice that Kemi had gotten up from her seat was approaching him to calm him down. His fury was targeted at this sorry excuse for a human standing in front of him. In his mind the young man was the government and all the evil it represented.

“I said they were UNRULY” – Hip-Pop said.

That’s when Daddy Ibidun lost it.

“GERROOUT!”  He screamed.

Kemi quickly rushed to her fathers side to hold him and try to calm him down.

“Daddy, please calm down” she said holding his arm. “Daddy, e jor e ma binu” she continued trying to get her father away from the young man.

Daddy Ibidun collapsed into his chair and buried his face in his hands. It was like the emotional torture of ibiduns death suddenly washed over him and consumed him.

The young man suddenly looked dazed and made to get away as fast as possible.

Daddy Ibidun realised that his anger was misplaced and this young man had no hand in his daughters death. He decided to make amends before the young man left.

“I’m sorry” he said. “I shouldn’t have shouted at you”.

Kemi went to the young man and explained her sisters death to him.

“My sister was one of those that died during the Immigrations recruitment exercise, we haven’t fully recovered from the shock and my dad was worst hit” she said sadly.

“Oh my God” Hip-Pop said looking from Kemi to Daddy Ibidun. “I’m so sorry sir”.

“No, I should apologise, I shouldn’t have brought up the topic” Daddy Ibidun said. He really shouldn’t have brought up the topic. The pain was still fresh in heart and there was no point stirring it up over again.

“I am Nonso sir” Hip-Pop said stretching out his hands to shake Daddy Ibidun.

“Mr Kamorudeen” Daddy Ibidun replied as he grasped Nonso’s outstretched hand.

At that moment Mr Kamorudeen looked into Nonso eyes and it was like he could see into the young man’s soul. He didn’t see a visionless youth, he didn’t see a stubborn Jonathan defender. He saw hope for the future of Nigeria.


Dr Fada Fajuitan is a writer and medical doctor with a passion for Nigeria. You can follow him on twitter @ireloju.

 

Disclaimer: This story and the opinions expressed are those of the writer alone and do not represent the views of the owner of the blog as this blog maintains its political neutrality. The youth are the future of Nigeria, your vote counts! We pray for a free and fair and most importantly peaceful election this year…MizChutzpah!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
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Posted by on January 2, 2015 in Urban Culture

 

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Steths don’t lie!

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Steths don’t lie, people do.

I glance at my stethoscope and sigh. The day is October 1st 2014 and I am sitting at an independence day program listening to one of the speakers tear to shreds the last atom of self-respect I have. I think of a thousand other places I’d rather be instead of right there lost in the crowd, sitting on the 8th row but still invisible to the one man who claims to know all about me. When did I become this villain, this hated persona whose pride in her work has been snatched away by ignorant speakers such as the man who stands before me? Men who have the crowd roaring in excitement, who know just what to say to get the mob agitated and ready to do his bidding and care less about who has to hang for the sake of a good speech! I zip up my bag hurriedly, I don’t want Mr Steths hearing such bull, it could break him…and a good Littman stethoscope costs about £150 these days.

Who gave this man the permission to perpetrate ignorance? If it was any other function, we definitely would have settled it outside (I am tougher than I look oh). I think of all the casualties of this long drawn out war between the people and doctors and sigh… (if Oliver Pope was real, this definitely would need fixing). I wish I could introduce the speaker to Mrs A, my dedicated co-worker who is now a widow responsible for three children after her husband died of HIV following a needle-stick injury while he was treating a patient. Mrs A has the virus too but you would never know as she goes about her duties cheerfully. Or maybe to  Mr B, who shed tears when he was told he wouldn’t be paid this month. His rent is due and so are his children’s school fees and contrary to what this arrogant speaker is telling the crowd, Mr B has no savings to fall back on. He barely manages to keep his head above water in the sea of middle class men. And so many other doctors share his fate yet he scuttles to the emergency room when summoned to see a new patient, his problems momentarily forgotten. How does Mr B explain to his children who rarely get to see their father that all the effort he puts into his job night and day is not enough to ensure their school fees are paid on time? How does he explain to the world that the thought of buying a brand new car is merely a fantasy he couldn’t dare to entertain? Yet he is supposed to be a doctor, a senior registrar for that matter. The world doesn’t know about this but ask Mr Steths, he hears everything.

What this speaker doesn’t know is that beneath the white coat and brisk demeanor lies a broken man. An overworked, unappreciated member of society who is expected to serve at all costs regardless of his present circumstances no better than a mere slave. His dignity long forgotten, his legacy merely an embarrassment. His pleas for better work conditions shelved in the archives of greedy employees. Nobody remembers he looks death in the face each and everyday. Nobody remembers that he handles patients and diseases that could potentially cost him his life and that he walks boldly where others fear to tread (R.I.P Dr Adedavoh). We are not afraid to die and some of us have died, unsung heroes just to save a life. We wouldn’t mind Ebola and Hepatitis if it meant our children would be well taken care of if we passed on, we wouldn’t mind HIV and Lassa fever if it meant that we would be able to afford a home of our own or a car that wasn’t ‘tokunbo’. We wouldn’t mind the stench of a diabetic foot or Fournier’s gangrene if we had great working conditions. We wouldn’t mind the gore of a burst abdomen or the vigil beside a critically ill patient if we were appreciated by the people we give our lives for each and every day. But even without these perceived luxuries we work tirelessly everyday to ensure that the lives in our care do not waste away and instead of gratitude we are painted as greedy and wicked.

Free services are demanded of us by men and women who would not dream of letting the doctor’s child go to school for free or dream of giving him merchandise without money. Men and women who would not save the doctor the littlest expense, they would smile at him and say ‘Ah ah, you be doctor na, you get all of the money’. They grumble that the doctor would dare drop his stethoscope for even a day in the name of a strike but pray do tell me if there is another way to get the government to listen and yet another way to make them stay true to their promises. Like a slave who revolts after tireless beatings, doctors have revolted refusing to suffer in silence any longer. They prayed for a voice, one to fight their battles as they focused on saving lives and who better to do that than the very patients who they had managed but these patients so easily forget help rendered and join the mob to throw stones, forgetting that those who oppress the doctors are the same ones who oppress the masses, the same ones who always seek medical help abroad and cannot be even the least bit worried about the deplorable working conditions and quality of services in the health sector. My people shouldn’t we be joining forces to fight this menace rather than fighting each other?  Don’t be deceived by false statistics, for every doctor that lives in luxury there are sixty others living in squalor. Maybe it’s time the doctor started trading by barter because the other option would be to provide his every need, to allow his children go to school for free, to make sure he didn’t have to worry about his rent or his family’s expenses so that he could focus solely on saving the lives brought before him. Let’s start with you mister car dealer who refuses to go to hospital, it’s not your right to have free consultation over the phone, it’s a favor and one good turn deserves another. How about a car at half price?

They say becoming a consultant is the peak of our career, I have seen pitiable consultants who could only be called successful within the four walls of a hospital where they wield their diminutive power over subordinates till the day closes and they drag their worn out shoes into their worn out car, praying that by some stroke of good fate it would start without pushing. Why would you even entrust your life or the life of your loved ones into the hands of a man who was depressed and disgruntled with his job? It is quite ridiculous to assume he would do his best for you when the society he lives in does not care about him, when the people he works for do not care about him. It’s hard to be a hero every blessed day, doctors don’t have the luxury of being human. And for many the future is bleak.

Ask my stethoscope, he has seen it all…He has heard the deceptive words of the medical elders as they sold us out for personal gain, he shuddered at the closed door meetings, his presence forgotten as they made plans to trample upon their own for the good of their pockets.
Mr Steths ears burned when he was roughly pushed aside by the grey haired man who eagerly advised the president on the best course of action against his own kind in exchange for a place among the ruling council. Let’s not even get started about the time he heard the management warn the doctors to not treat any patient for free as they would have the cost deducted from their salaries along with a fine. Mr Management was snoring in his house the day the woman who couldn’t afford the money for the surgery died in the waiting room. No one saw the unshed tears glistening in the doctor’s eyes, his hands tied. He pressed his empty wallet against his thigh, wishing he had the five thousand naira needed by the patient for the deposit. His colleague had been fired a week before for daring to flaunt management’s orders. He needed the job but it was costing him his soul. Ask Mr Steths about all the times doctors have had to count out precious Naira to assist a patient who desperately needed a drug or test. The deed promptly forgotten as the patient ventures back into the world, the doctor’s kindness buried along with painful hospital memories not even resurfacing during testimony time at church. Perhaps these patients see it as their right, perhaps they believe we are an elite group of cyborgs created to serve…I wonder…

This uncouth speaker talks about us knowing what we signed up for when we decided to become doctors. What ten year old knows the truth about being a doctor in Nigeria? What sixteen year old filling her JAMB form can recognize the sorrow behind the doctor’s smile?  What twenty-three year old graduating from medical school knows the dissatisfaction surrounding the practice of medicine? The old doctors are tired of fighting, their eyes cast down in defeat. The younger doctors are becoming hustlers. After all you are nothing in this country without money. Dignity doesn’t put food on the table or pay the bills. Yet we serve, for whatever reason, whether it is to earn a salary or out of human compassion or for the sake of the passion we feel for the medical profession, we serve. WE SERVE.

My steths doesn’t lie, he doesn’t need a PR agent to make him look good, he believes in the greater good of humanity but people lie…

I could be lying right now like many others before me but then again I just might be speaking the truth and perhaps I have been able to give you a little insight amidst the jumble of words. So the next time you sit down judging a doctor, think of him as a person, not necessarily a good person but a person nonetheless who doesn’t care about where you have been or what you have done, who doesn’t care about the extra hours or the unending sacrifices but is only interested in helping you the best way he can even if he has a long list of unmet needs hanging over his head. It is his job description isn’t it? He isn’t the enemy, he isn’t the oppressor. He is human just like you.

Love your doctor, it’s healthy!
A heartfelt thank you gives us the sort of high that makes unpaid bills float away…Ask Mr Steths, he has been around far longer than I have and could teach you a thing or two!

Have a great day Chutzpah fam,
Xoxoxo

 
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Posted by on October 13, 2014 in Health

 

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Triage Patients to stop the Ebola epidemic; An essential tool for every health worker!

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If you are a health worker, hospital administrator or any other staff in a health facility then THIS IS FOR YOU!

 

Hello Nigerians,

The Ebola virus has become an unwelcome visitor and calculated steps must be taken to curb this epidemic before it escalates. Do not be a victim. As a health worker you are in the fore-front and you need to be armed with this questionnaire to ensure that the patient whose life you are trying to save does not become the very patient responsible for your demise. Hospitals should print out these questionnaires and have them at the front desk. Insist all patients fill them before they are attended to and above all, every health worker should obey universal precautions even if the questionnaire puts the patient in the clear.

Please click on the links below to view and download the questionnaire and spread the word. Thank you!

The BE questionnaire- Instructions

The BE Questionnaire

 
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Posted by on August 12, 2014 in Health

 

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EBOLA VIRUS- The Serial Killer Gets Shipped To Lagos!

EBOLA VIRUS- The Serial Killer Gets Shipped To Lagos!

TOPSHOTS-GUINEA-HEALTH-EBOLA

 

His name was Patrick Sawyer, a Liberian who died yesterday in Lagos from a suspected case of the newest epidemic- Ebola. May his soul R.I.P.

Ebola is a virus which causes the Ebola Virus Disease or Ebola Hemorrhagic fever; the symptoms of the disease include fever, sore throat, muscle pains, headaches, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea along with decreased functioning of the liver and kidneys and as the disease progresses, the affected person begins to bleed from any or all of the following – mouth, nose, ears, eyes, skin, internal bleeding, prolonged bleeding from wounds etc. Death inevitably occurs in about a week, as there is no known vaccination or cure at present.

Can you catch Ebola?

Yes! A person can get Ebola by eating contaminated bush meat or touching a contaminated corpse or coming in contact with contaminated blood or body fluids of an infected animal such as a monkey or fruit bat (farmers and hunters beware) and even pigs but that isn’t why we are all worried after all how many average Nigerians get to do any of these things.

Well here is the problem: EBOLA IS SPREAD FROM ONE INDIVIDUAL TO ANOTHER BY PHYSICAL CONTACT!

–          If you touch a person who has Ebola virus, you will be at risk. (Think about the health workers who treated the Liberian man and initially didn’t know he was infected and then think of all the other people they could have touched- in the hospital, at home, in the bus etc.) THANKFULLY, DOCTORS OBEY UNIVERSAL PRECAUTIONS and wash their hands after seeing a patient. The question is, do you?

–          Men who survive an infection with Ebola (yes, a few people do survive, the disease kills 50-90% of infected victims) may be able to transmit the disease sexually for nearly two months. GIRLFRIENDS, WIVES and SIDECHICKS BEWARE!

Ok so now you see the magnitude of the problem. The dude who shook your hand could have Ebola. The lady who touched you may be infected. The caretaker trying to get that body to the morgue may be joining him soon and the doctors, nurses and the other members of the health team are very much at risk. The brave doctor who was spearheading the Ebola epidemic in Sierra Leone has been infected by the virus and his predecessor died of Lassa fever (Ebola’s brother). If you felt the Nigerian doctors were being greedy by asking for a meaningful hazard allowance, think again. The money won’t stave off death but at least it would show the risk they were taking was duly compensated!

So how can you prevent catching the disease and how can you help curb the epidemic?

  1. Wash your hands with soap and water and if you can help it carry an alcohol-based hand sanitizer in your bag so that every time you touch an individual, you disinfect your hands.
  2. Forget about bush meat right now. Do not visit joints that offer exotic meat. Yes I know it tastes great with palm wine but dead men don’t drink remember? (Libation doesn’t count!)
  3. If you suspect your neighbor has Ebola or even your family or friends, do not take them to a chemist, please take them straight to a teaching hospital AND DO NOT TOUCH THEM OR THEIR BLOOD, FAECES, URINE, TEARS, SPUTUM OR SWEAT and if you have been in close contact with them, avoid contact with others till you are sure you didn’t catch it.
  4. Health workers please observe UNIVERSAL PRECAUTIONS abeg!!! Avoid contact with blood and body fluids of infected individuals.
  5. Don’t touch the dead body of an infected person.
  6. Do not travel to a place where an Ebola epidemic has broken out (Liberia, Sierra Leone, Guinea, Democratic Republic of Congo and Sudan)
  7. Avoid touching contaminated materials and utensils used by an infected person.
  8. Call 08057886636, 08023169485, 08033086660, 08033065303, 08055281442, 08055329229 to report a case or ask questions.

Ebola virus is highly infectious and contagious and it has no cure. Please stay safe!

Don’t panic, just stay calm and wash your hands, thank God it isn’t air-borne!

Have a lovely night Chutzpah fam,

xoxo

 
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Posted by on July 25, 2014 in Health

 

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10 Questions for the Nigerian government!

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When Kema Chikwe began to ask questions a few days ago about the inconsistencies in the Chibok story, the nation was enraged asking her how on earth she could doubt that 234 girls had been abducted but the thing is the inconsistencies surrounding the story can no longer be ignored.

A lot of discussions on various platforms have gotten me thinking. There are so many unanswered questions and we the people of Nigeria demand answers from the FG!

Here are some of the questions Nigerians are asking:

Why is the government failing to act on obvious leads?

Why hasn’t the offer of international organizations and other countries to assist us been embraced by the FG?

Why have the neighboring countries not been compelled to produce concrete information on the whereabouts of these girls who may have crossed their borders?

Why has a list of names of girls abducted along with picture identification not been released to the press?

Why does the principal of the school have conflicting stories about the incident?

Why is the government not declaring a state of emergency, why does it seem like business as usual?

Why is the total number of girls abducted and released constantly changing?

Why did the armed forces do nothing when news of the camp where the girls were being held was circulated?

Why were the accounts of the escaped girls as well as eyewitness accounts not used to formulate strategies to track down the abductors?

Why is a committee being set up to look into this instead of emergency action?

I still believe there is a lot of fear, hidden threats, political propaganda  and blackmailing going on behind the scenes that’s the only thing that can explain why everyone in power seems to be going about this the wrong way.

Two bomb blasts and over two hundred girls missing and the most we have gotten out of our president in the last few days is his response to the untimely death of the VP’s brother. Are the other deaths and losses not as important? Why are we not getting updates on what exactly the government is doing about the issue and what breakthroughs they have had so far?

The government was elected to serve the people and we the Nigerian people deserve answers. Presidents have resigned over smaller incidents and even though I am not agitating for the resignation of Mr President, I would love to see more action. The snail speed response reeks of political propaganda. Who has Nigeria by the balls Mr President? Who has crippled us to the point where we can no longer intelligently respond to crisis situations?

Surely Boko Haram is not the problem, they are merely a tool. Mercenaries in the hands of someone more powerful. But if the blood of our citizens is the sacrifice you have chosen to offer to this unseen menace then I must ask what it is you would gain in the long run. Mr President be a hero- a great man would do far more with much less than is at your disposal. Dare to be different or save your neck and vacate the seat for someone whose courage surpasses yours but please do not give in to blackmail, do not let fear cause a complacency that will make you stink before your nation. Tell us what is going on. Talk to us, your people are far from stupid.

I wonder how you sleep at night. A shiver runs down my spine when I think of those little girls. It’s crazy to think about the suffering, oppression and torture they go through every single day that they stay within the enemy’s camp. How would you feel if your own daughter was kidnapped? Mr President you are a father not just to the nation but to your home. Fight, again I say fight!

#bringbackourgirls

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Posted by on May 3, 2014 in Inspirational

 

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