I love my three daddies; Daddy 1, Daddy 2, Daddy 3. And, I love them in equally unequal proportions. All of them are in their seventies. One gave birth to me, the second gave bliss to me and the third gave backing to me. Don’t tell me you don’t understand riddles. Of these three daddies, the one I see most frequently is Daddy 3 and is the only one of my daddies who still goes on wearing natty suits and ties.
Sometimes, we travel together, especially to a golgothaic arena in the centre of Nigeria. Of course Daddy 3 was always on hand to ensure that no crucifixion of me takes place and that my {some say, stubborn} head stays on my shoulders.
Of course we don’t travel in silence. We talk, we gist and almost always on serious issues. Daddy 3 is a mine of information especially on law, politics and history. And what great ideas he has!
Daddy 3 is, as well known quite principled and a first class legal mind, but only relatively few people can claim to know him closely enough. Daddy 3 is now an old man. Then, he will become a grand old man and then one day he will become a was. Of course I don’t want that to ever happen, yet mortality, reality teaches us, is an inescapable fate of all humanity.
Fortunately, however there is a solution to the problem of mortality. An ever effective remedy and which turns mortality to immortality. That remedy is in putting pen to paper, about one’s ideas, one’s life, one’s dreams etc.
That’s the main reason, Mr. William Shakespeare still frolicks with us, any time. Even tomorrow good old Willie will still “dey kampe” because his ideas and thoughts have been immortalised in all those great works of his. Remember Julius Caesar? What of Merchant of Venice? Othello, nko?
Even right here in Nigeria, I know of such immortals. I know of Fela ‘Omo Iya Aje’, I know of Obafemi Awolowo. The former waxed records, the latter wrote books. Both had books written about them. How then can they die?
Of course when Chinua “Things Fall Apart” Achebe finally goes to the land of Eneke the Bird, where hopefully he will meet the master fabuist, Amos Tutuola, he will yet remain with us, hale and hearty. The same happy fate surely will befall Kongi, the action-packed Nobel Laureate.
This is the fate I want to befall Daddy 3. I don’t want him to go the way of that wizard of law, F.R.A Williams who knew so much but wrote so little. And not that F.R.A did not write; the problem was that the colossus was only writing briefs and not books.
I now invite every man and woman of good-will to join me to appeal, urge, persuade, enjoin, encourage, advise Daddy 3 to drop everything and face Project Immortality now!
Walahi, that baba is too precious, to be allowed to just disappear into eternity like that without adequate and permanent representations of his genius on our terra-firma.
ASSIGNMENT FOR MY FRIENDS:
1. Anytime you meet Chief G.O.K Ajayi SAN. After greeting him, politely ask, “Chief, when are your books coming out?”
2. Continue to send SMS to Chief G.O.K Ajayi SAN, asking, “Chief, when are your books coming out?”
P.S. Daddy 2 is a philosopher. For a feast of ideas, you can meet him at:
http://www.numberphilosophy.blogspot.com
and
http://www.myakokaverandah.blogspot.com
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
'More Hunger Ahead' By Adesina Ogunlana
THE LEARNED SQUIB
In the olden days, in the days of Joseph, Balaam, Elisha, Daniel, up to the advent of newspapers and the birth of the www wizardry, you could only become a prophet or a seer by celestial or at least extra-terrestrial calling.
In those days, mental exertions and physical training would never make anyone a Nostradamus. No matter the level of trying, no matter the time of application. The best you could be by those methods was to end up a guesser. Of course we know that in the very precarious turf of prophesy where the propinquity of error to success is quite close indeed, guessers invariably end up losers.
In one word, in ancient times, you were either a prophet or not. But nowadays a newspaper freak, not to talk of an internet fly, has all what it takes to become a super-prophet or a grand seer. You see, when you have a lot of relevant information about a person, thing or an organization at your disposal, with a little application of commonsense, you can confidently look into the seeds of time and say with confidence which ones will germinate and which ones will not.
Of course a newspaper fed prophet or an internet enabled seer may not cut the traditional figure of a diviner one inch. Instead of the penetrating gaze of the prophet of old or his long beard, the modern ‘Nostra’ may look like an Adonis. Of course, Adonis’ are either clean shaven or adorn their chins with designer hair styles. They don’t go about with dirty, tangled beards.
Happily, the hood does not the monk make. The efficiency and reliability of modern day prophets has little or nothing to do with their possibly snazzy looks. You don’t have to be wonky to be a trustworthy visionary, neither do you need to mouth any mantras to get the job done.
I consider myself one of the modern prophets in question and I hereby prophesy unto you all. I prophecy that there is going to be more hunger for Lagos lawyers in the next few weeks. Don’t sneer at me or at the prophecy. It will come to pass. But first, let me tell you how I know what will surely happen.
If you will only turn with me to page 3 of the December 1, 2007 edition of the Saturday Sun, you will be privy to the information I have had since December 1.
The news was that judiciary staff would be embarking on another round of nation wide strike as from January 15, 2008 if the Body of Chief Judges of Nigeria “fails to meet its earlier 4-point demands.”
Now, here’s the prophecy – the workers will surely go on strike. The reason is very simple: nobody in Nigeria, especially at the management levels, ever takes workers seriously until push comes to shove.
Now here’s the second prophecy: as from late January 2008 when the Judiciary Staff Union of Nigeria (JUSUN) will once again shut down the judiciary nation wide, many lawyers, especially Lagos lawyers, will experience lean pockets and even leaner tummies.
I assume that everybody knows that many practicing lawyers in Lagos State since the beginning of the New Legal Year in September 2007 have experienced a sharp lull in business. The reason is chiefly due to the incarceration of thousands of non-part heard cases in the registry where they were returned to, in the wake of the mass re-posting of judges from their various Cause Divisions.
Now, a grimmer immediate future awaits us all in late January 2008 since the courts will surely be shut down then. For the moment at least, we are able to eke out a living since courts, lethargic and infirm as they are, are still on; in January 2008, our market will come under lock and key.
Why am I so sure that the courts will be paralysed in January 2008? The reality of this is already obvious to discerning souls.
First from now till January 14, the authorities will pretend not to have notice of the impending strike. Then from the 15th to the 22nd January 2008, the authorities will indulge themselves in making nasty remarks about the JUSUN leadership. It is only after, say the 3rd of February, that Messrs High and Mighty will begin to consider having any dialogue with the striking workers while at the same time start the blackmail programme of labeling the striking workers as “unpatriotic elements who want to truncate our nascent democracy for narrow, selfish reasons.”
Finally, around the outer rim of February 2008, one or two concessions will be made to the workers. Shall I go on prophesying? The spirit has really woken up in me.
Prepare, dear learned friends, prepare for January, February, even March 2008. It will be a long winter.
Related links: http://www.squiblogg.blogspot.com
http://www.squibcoverstory.blogspot.com
http://www.squibreaderspavilion.blogspot.com
In the olden days, in the days of Joseph, Balaam, Elisha, Daniel, up to the advent of newspapers and the birth of the www wizardry, you could only become a prophet or a seer by celestial or at least extra-terrestrial calling.
In those days, mental exertions and physical training would never make anyone a Nostradamus. No matter the level of trying, no matter the time of application. The best you could be by those methods was to end up a guesser. Of course we know that in the very precarious turf of prophesy where the propinquity of error to success is quite close indeed, guessers invariably end up losers.
In one word, in ancient times, you were either a prophet or not. But nowadays a newspaper freak, not to talk of an internet fly, has all what it takes to become a super-prophet or a grand seer. You see, when you have a lot of relevant information about a person, thing or an organization at your disposal, with a little application of commonsense, you can confidently look into the seeds of time and say with confidence which ones will germinate and which ones will not.
Of course a newspaper fed prophet or an internet enabled seer may not cut the traditional figure of a diviner one inch. Instead of the penetrating gaze of the prophet of old or his long beard, the modern ‘Nostra’ may look like an Adonis. Of course, Adonis’ are either clean shaven or adorn their chins with designer hair styles. They don’t go about with dirty, tangled beards.
Happily, the hood does not the monk make. The efficiency and reliability of modern day prophets has little or nothing to do with their possibly snazzy looks. You don’t have to be wonky to be a trustworthy visionary, neither do you need to mouth any mantras to get the job done.
I consider myself one of the modern prophets in question and I hereby prophesy unto you all. I prophecy that there is going to be more hunger for Lagos lawyers in the next few weeks. Don’t sneer at me or at the prophecy. It will come to pass. But first, let me tell you how I know what will surely happen.
If you will only turn with me to page 3 of the December 1, 2007 edition of the Saturday Sun, you will be privy to the information I have had since December 1.
The news was that judiciary staff would be embarking on another round of nation wide strike as from January 15, 2008 if the Body of Chief Judges of Nigeria “fails to meet its earlier 4-point demands.”
Now, here’s the prophecy – the workers will surely go on strike. The reason is very simple: nobody in Nigeria, especially at the management levels, ever takes workers seriously until push comes to shove.
Now here’s the second prophecy: as from late January 2008 when the Judiciary Staff Union of Nigeria (JUSUN) will once again shut down the judiciary nation wide, many lawyers, especially Lagos lawyers, will experience lean pockets and even leaner tummies.
I assume that everybody knows that many practicing lawyers in Lagos State since the beginning of the New Legal Year in September 2007 have experienced a sharp lull in business. The reason is chiefly due to the incarceration of thousands of non-part heard cases in the registry where they were returned to, in the wake of the mass re-posting of judges from their various Cause Divisions.
Now, a grimmer immediate future awaits us all in late January 2008 since the courts will surely be shut down then. For the moment at least, we are able to eke out a living since courts, lethargic and infirm as they are, are still on; in January 2008, our market will come under lock and key.
Why am I so sure that the courts will be paralysed in January 2008? The reality of this is already obvious to discerning souls.
First from now till January 14, the authorities will pretend not to have notice of the impending strike. Then from the 15th to the 22nd January 2008, the authorities will indulge themselves in making nasty remarks about the JUSUN leadership. It is only after, say the 3rd of February, that Messrs High and Mighty will begin to consider having any dialogue with the striking workers while at the same time start the blackmail programme of labeling the striking workers as “unpatriotic elements who want to truncate our nascent democracy for narrow, selfish reasons.”
Finally, around the outer rim of February 2008, one or two concessions will be made to the workers. Shall I go on prophesying? The spirit has really woken up in me.
Prepare, dear learned friends, prepare for January, February, even March 2008. It will be a long winter.
Related links: http://www.squiblogg.blogspot.com
http://www.squibcoverstory.blogspot.com
http://www.squibreaderspavilion.blogspot.com
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Jones and Jane by Adesina Ogunlana
THE LEARNED SQUIB
My attention was very recently drawn to a rather juicy morsel of news. The morsel was a part of the info wrap laid in the confines of a news-plate-the Independent Newspaper of Thursday October 25 2007. The morsel of news in question had an ‘ear-watering’ title “LAW SCHOOL EXPELS SEXY COUPLE”. It was when I bit into the news, that I realised that the couple was not flung out of the lawyer’s bakery for been sex-y, but being sex-ual.
It would even appear that the un-named couple, hereinafter called Jones and Jane, got the marching orders not because they were just sex-ual, but because they were ‘sex-ual’ in the open. According to the short, snappy and tasty strip of news, the couple was caught ‘pants down’ by the “dreaded” security marshals of the law school pants down for “doing it” at the back of the library.”
After a deep reflection on the matter, I concluded that the couple’s real sin was not being sexy, or sexual or openly sexual but being unlawyerly enough to be caught “doing it” and doing it “pants down.”
I am not even very sure that the Law School has been very fair to these true son and daughter of Adam and Eve. For obeying the law of nature, which says that when fire meets petrol, there must be combustion and explosion, Jones and Jane are now denied the opportunity of realising their dreams of becoming inhabitants of the Nigerian Bar!
Seriously speaking, that’s a punishment greatly exceeding the offence. The authorities of the Law School should put the following points into consideration in turning the expulsion into suspension and a short one at that.
{1} Abuja in Octobers is a hot city and the work-load of the Law School is heavy, so students, even teachers need to cool down to maintain their sanity.
{2} Jones and Jane engaged in consensual, heterosexual activity, and not forced or homosexual liaisons.
{3} Jones and Jane did not explore themselves in the innards of the library thereby desecrating it, rather they betook themselves to the back of the house of books to re-enact the sweltering saga of Richard and Tatiana in Big Brother Africa 2
{4} Jones and Jane straight-away admitted their deed of basic biology and did not make any smart-alec moves to turn the table against their captors, the so called dreaded Law School marshals.
{5} The Law School itself is becoming very modern: at least students now must own {by hook or crook} lap-tops and so the open body-in-body interaction of Jones and Jane should be seen as one of the signs and trends of these modern times.
{6} Finally, the authorities should realise that to {have} sex is human, very human and to forgive is divine. So Jones and Jane should be recalled. I rest my case.
Upon recall, Jones and Jane should be sent to different campuses. One should be sent to Kano while the other should be taken to Enugu or Lagos. With such a measure, I believe the only possible place they can meet again in common is either at the NYSC Camp or the altar.
I, prefer the latter.
My attention was very recently drawn to a rather juicy morsel of news. The morsel was a part of the info wrap laid in the confines of a news-plate-the Independent Newspaper of Thursday October 25 2007. The morsel of news in question had an ‘ear-watering’ title “LAW SCHOOL EXPELS SEXY COUPLE”. It was when I bit into the news, that I realised that the couple was not flung out of the lawyer’s bakery for been sex-y, but being sex-ual.
It would even appear that the un-named couple, hereinafter called Jones and Jane, got the marching orders not because they were just sex-ual, but because they were ‘sex-ual’ in the open. According to the short, snappy and tasty strip of news, the couple was caught ‘pants down’ by the “dreaded” security marshals of the law school pants down for “doing it” at the back of the library.”
After a deep reflection on the matter, I concluded that the couple’s real sin was not being sexy, or sexual or openly sexual but being unlawyerly enough to be caught “doing it” and doing it “pants down.”
I am not even very sure that the Law School has been very fair to these true son and daughter of Adam and Eve. For obeying the law of nature, which says that when fire meets petrol, there must be combustion and explosion, Jones and Jane are now denied the opportunity of realising their dreams of becoming inhabitants of the Nigerian Bar!
Seriously speaking, that’s a punishment greatly exceeding the offence. The authorities of the Law School should put the following points into consideration in turning the expulsion into suspension and a short one at that.
{1} Abuja in Octobers is a hot city and the work-load of the Law School is heavy, so students, even teachers need to cool down to maintain their sanity.
{2} Jones and Jane engaged in consensual, heterosexual activity, and not forced or homosexual liaisons.
{3} Jones and Jane did not explore themselves in the innards of the library thereby desecrating it, rather they betook themselves to the back of the house of books to re-enact the sweltering saga of Richard and Tatiana in Big Brother Africa 2
{4} Jones and Jane straight-away admitted their deed of basic biology and did not make any smart-alec moves to turn the table against their captors, the so called dreaded Law School marshals.
{5} The Law School itself is becoming very modern: at least students now must own {by hook or crook} lap-tops and so the open body-in-body interaction of Jones and Jane should be seen as one of the signs and trends of these modern times.
{6} Finally, the authorities should realise that to {have} sex is human, very human and to forgive is divine. So Jones and Jane should be recalled. I rest my case.
Upon recall, Jones and Jane should be sent to different campuses. One should be sent to Kano while the other should be taken to Enugu or Lagos. With such a measure, I believe the only possible place they can meet again in common is either at the NYSC Camp or the altar.
I, prefer the latter.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
'WaterFall Division' By Adesina Ogunlana
THE LEARNED SQUIB
The few times I have stolen time to watch the WHO WANTS TO BE A MILLIONAIRE? show on television, I have found it quite interesting. The show has a few interesting condiments of excitement, guaranteed to fascinate and exhilarate at the same time.
My favourite condiment? The presenter? No. The audience? The gadgetry and setting? No. The Questions? No. The Answer Options? No. The Answers? No.
By now, you are probably twisting your nose and wondering at the direction of my thoughts? If you think I am daft or something similar, you won’t be quite wrong. Come to think of it, how much brains does a gecko have?
Now let me tell you the aspects I really enjoy in the show. It is the combination of question and answer options. The questions thrill me a lot. They range from sun-up to sun-set. They stretch from the Sahara to Ice-land. They rise from the earth and reach to the heavens. The questions cover all the colours of the rainbow
Little wonder then that you find some of the questions so simple that even a yam head will not spend a second in answering them. Yet there are some questions that will throw just about anyone except rara avis with splinters of Solomonic sagacity or those with microfilmed encyclopedia tucked deeply away in their medulla oblongata. However, more fascinating and titillating and not infrequently maddening are the answer-options provided. They often render many contestants confused and dazed.
At least two of these options will seem to be the right answers. But there can only be one correct answer. So dilemma arises.
In this article today, I, suo motu, create the SQUIB version of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? Anybody who wins becomes a Squib millionaire. Automatically. I have Three Questions for interested readers.
{a} How many divisions {e.g Lands, General Civil} does the Lagos State High Court have?
OPTIONS: {A} 5, {B} 8, {C} 7 and {D} 6
{b} Who are the judges in the Waterfall Division?
OPTIONS:
{a} Oshodi, Akande, Ayo and Coker
{b} Coker, Nicol-Clay, Obadina and Olokoba
{c} Oyefeso, Coker, Oshodi and Kayode-Ogunmenkan
{d} Oshodi, Coker, Okunnu and Oyefeso
{c} Why is the Watefall Division so named?
OPTIONS:
{a} Because the courts in the division float on water.
{b} Because litigants in courts in the Division are all from
Osun-Osogbo grove.
{c} Because water from the air conditioners in the four courts
in the division escape into the corridor, flooding the whole place and runs down stairs every day yet nobody cares about the situation even though moss and fauna are growing steadily on the wet and increasingly slippery surface.
{d} Because the courts in the division deal only with maritime cases.
To increase your chances of making correct choices, I give you these useful tips:
{a} The Waterfall Division is exclusively located in Compound A of the Ikeja High Court.
{b} All the judges in that Division are below 50 years of age.
{c} Only one of the judges is a male, the rest are females.
So, now my dears, Who Wants To Be A Miliionaire? Squib Millionaire.
The few times I have stolen time to watch the WHO WANTS TO BE A MILLIONAIRE? show on television, I have found it quite interesting. The show has a few interesting condiments of excitement, guaranteed to fascinate and exhilarate at the same time.
My favourite condiment? The presenter? No. The audience? The gadgetry and setting? No. The Questions? No. The Answer Options? No. The Answers? No.
By now, you are probably twisting your nose and wondering at the direction of my thoughts? If you think I am daft or something similar, you won’t be quite wrong. Come to think of it, how much brains does a gecko have?
Now let me tell you the aspects I really enjoy in the show. It is the combination of question and answer options. The questions thrill me a lot. They range from sun-up to sun-set. They stretch from the Sahara to Ice-land. They rise from the earth and reach to the heavens. The questions cover all the colours of the rainbow
Little wonder then that you find some of the questions so simple that even a yam head will not spend a second in answering them. Yet there are some questions that will throw just about anyone except rara avis with splinters of Solomonic sagacity or those with microfilmed encyclopedia tucked deeply away in their medulla oblongata. However, more fascinating and titillating and not infrequently maddening are the answer-options provided. They often render many contestants confused and dazed.
At least two of these options will seem to be the right answers. But there can only be one correct answer. So dilemma arises.
In this article today, I, suo motu, create the SQUIB version of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? Anybody who wins becomes a Squib millionaire. Automatically. I have Three Questions for interested readers.
{a} How many divisions {e.g Lands, General Civil} does the Lagos State High Court have?
OPTIONS: {A} 5, {B} 8, {C} 7 and {D} 6
{b} Who are the judges in the Waterfall Division?
OPTIONS:
{a} Oshodi, Akande, Ayo and Coker
{b} Coker, Nicol-Clay, Obadina and Olokoba
{c} Oyefeso, Coker, Oshodi and Kayode-Ogunmenkan
{d} Oshodi, Coker, Okunnu and Oyefeso
{c} Why is the Watefall Division so named?
OPTIONS:
{a} Because the courts in the division float on water.
{b} Because litigants in courts in the Division are all from
Osun-Osogbo grove.
{c} Because water from the air conditioners in the four courts
in the division escape into the corridor, flooding the whole place and runs down stairs every day yet nobody cares about the situation even though moss and fauna are growing steadily on the wet and increasingly slippery surface.
{d} Because the courts in the division deal only with maritime cases.
To increase your chances of making correct choices, I give you these useful tips:
{a} The Waterfall Division is exclusively located in Compound A of the Ikeja High Court.
{b} All the judges in that Division are below 50 years of age.
{c} Only one of the judges is a male, the rest are females.
So, now my dears, Who Wants To Be A Miliionaire? Squib Millionaire.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
The Same Old Story by Adesina Ogunlana
If a man tells one story today, and tells it tomorrow, mouths it the day after, and still remembers to bring it up the week after, he is sure to bore one. It does not matter the nature of the story - whether nice or nasty, whether joyous or sorrowful, whether a tale of woe or a yarn of wonder-once it is the same and one story told, retold, reborn, refurbished, re-polished, regurgitated, re-done, re-presented, re-wrought, re-spun, it must bore the listener.
Little wonder at that, since variety is and will always remain the spice of life. A man must have more than one story to tell, except he has taken his listeners for hard-of hearing folks.
It is quite annoying and painful to be in the company of one-story people, especially if they are not the type one can order to “shut up” or walk-out on.
Let me digress a bit. Please and please. Last week some Tiger chiefs (leaders of the NBA Ikeja branch) went to the office of the Chief Judge of Lagos State. From what I heard from some geckos, these visiting Tigers were actually surprised to find that Mr. Justice Ade Alabi, the venerable Chief Judge “on seat”. They had thought that the Chief would be in far away Abuja attending the well publicised Judges Conference.
After receiving them, the Honourable Chief Judge asked for their mission. You know it’s never an easy sight beholding a band of tigers. Even a solitary tiger is danger enough.
Trust the Ikeja Tigers, they poured out their hearts, how they were sent by “our people to enquire from your Lordship what your office was doing in solving the problem of delayed re-assignment of part heard cases.”
From what I learnt, the chief judge, in response, showed the Tigers that erudition did not start and end with them (tigers).
The Chief Judge made lengthy explanations and promises, but not forgetting to add one story.
An old story. The same old story. That same old story. Yes that very story. Sure you know it now.
Want me to say it? It is the same old story of the honourable Chief Judge, by the honourable Chief Judge, how (here it comes once again)
“the Bar did not support me to become the Chief Judge.
How you people opposed me and preferred another judge to me to become the Chief Judge”.
My friend why are you wincing? Didn’t I tell you it’s an old, old story? But it is the favourite story of our Chief Judge, anytime his Lordship meets with the Bar, especially the Tiger Bar.
For the records, Mr. Justice Augustine Adetula Alabi became the Chief Judge of Lagos State in July 2004 and we are now in 2007. 2008 is already knocking on the door. When it comes, will we still hear that old story again? That same old story. I pray not. Seriously.
Related links: http://www.squiblogg.blogspot.com/
http://www.squibreaderspavilion.blogspot.com/
http://www.editorspark.blogspot.com/
Little wonder at that, since variety is and will always remain the spice of life. A man must have more than one story to tell, except he has taken his listeners for hard-of hearing folks.
It is quite annoying and painful to be in the company of one-story people, especially if they are not the type one can order to “shut up” or walk-out on.
Let me digress a bit. Please and please. Last week some Tiger chiefs (leaders of the NBA Ikeja branch) went to the office of the Chief Judge of Lagos State. From what I heard from some geckos, these visiting Tigers were actually surprised to find that Mr. Justice Ade Alabi, the venerable Chief Judge “on seat”. They had thought that the Chief would be in far away Abuja attending the well publicised Judges Conference.
After receiving them, the Honourable Chief Judge asked for their mission. You know it’s never an easy sight beholding a band of tigers. Even a solitary tiger is danger enough.
Trust the Ikeja Tigers, they poured out their hearts, how they were sent by “our people to enquire from your Lordship what your office was doing in solving the problem of delayed re-assignment of part heard cases.”
From what I learnt, the chief judge, in response, showed the Tigers that erudition did not start and end with them (tigers).
The Chief Judge made lengthy explanations and promises, but not forgetting to add one story.
An old story. The same old story. That same old story. Yes that very story. Sure you know it now.
Want me to say it? It is the same old story of the honourable Chief Judge, by the honourable Chief Judge, how (here it comes once again)
“the Bar did not support me to become the Chief Judge.
How you people opposed me and preferred another judge to me to become the Chief Judge”.
My friend why are you wincing? Didn’t I tell you it’s an old, old story? But it is the favourite story of our Chief Judge, anytime his Lordship meets with the Bar, especially the Tiger Bar.
For the records, Mr. Justice Augustine Adetula Alabi became the Chief Judge of Lagos State in July 2004 and we are now in 2007. 2008 is already knocking on the door. When it comes, will we still hear that old story again? That same old story. I pray not. Seriously.
Related links: http://www.squiblogg.blogspot.com/
http://www.squibreaderspavilion.blogspot.com/
http://www.editorspark.blogspot.com/
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
They Come With Envelopes
There are readers and there are readers. Readers of the Squib Magazine; remember the Squib? That’s the magazine with the singular distinction of being judicially and judiciously branded by a former Chief Judge of Lagos State (Nigeria), the incomparable “Debisi Baby” as “an obnoxious publication.”
One wonders however, how “an obnoxious publication” has not only survived for the past six years but is even growing from strength to strength in “sweet wickedness.” http://www.squibanticorruption.com/ But I digress. We were talking about the readers of the Squib. You see, Squib readers come in different shapes and styles. And I, the First Gecko, should know (See http://www.squiblogg.blogspot.com/).
A major group of Squib readers are those I take the liberty to label the SQUIB ADDICTS or SQUIBADDIES for short.
Squibaddies love to read the Squib so much that they feel great pain and a deep sense of loss anytime the fire-workish magazine is not on the stands. A squibaddie confessed to me a couple of weeks ago that for him the squib is a weekly tonic which “I cannot afford to miss.”
However despite their addiction, there are squibaddies who cannot openly identify with their piece of ‘intellectual cocaine’ and engrossing literary howitzer.
On the surface, these members of the Nicodemus sub-specie of Squibaddies, may appear to have no interest at all in the “obnoxious publication.” In public and in polite circles, you will never hear or see them indicating any interest in the Squib. But there in their closets and drawers, both at home and in the office, you will find piles and piles of the obnoxious publication.
In getting their regular shots, Squibaddies of the Nicodemus sub-class are quite ingenious. I tell you. This is how they go about it. Sorry, I changed my mind. Instead of cheaply divulging the secret to you, I invite you on a voyage of discovery.
In the mornings, especially Mondays and Tuesdays, just go to a spot in the Ikeja High Court called the SQUIB ROTUNDA. You will see some Squib-selling folk there. After a while you will see some other folk coming from different temples of justice, approaching the Rotunda, after glancing furtively about, one after the other. Usually these other folk hold big brown envelopes in their hands. Then when they are right under the Rotunda, these envelope bearers quickly give some quid to the Squib sellers and with the same alacrity pick their ‘drug’ and deposit it efficiently in their envelopes. Then they go back to their offices and to their lords.
Some minutes later, you will hear (if you have Squib-like ears) one ‘milord or milady calling another milady on the phone, saying
“Ah, have you seen the Squib today? It is too much.
Omo yen o ni pa wa! (that guy will not be the death of us!) I won’t lend you my copy. Go and get yours.”
Of course, it is no surprise then that more and more envelope bearers will turn up from you know where, for you know what, under the SQUIB ROTUNDA.
One wonders however, how “an obnoxious publication” has not only survived for the past six years but is even growing from strength to strength in “sweet wickedness.” http://www.squibanticorruption.com/ But I digress. We were talking about the readers of the Squib. You see, Squib readers come in different shapes and styles. And I, the First Gecko, should know (See http://www.squiblogg.blogspot.com/).
A major group of Squib readers are those I take the liberty to label the SQUIB ADDICTS or SQUIBADDIES for short.
Squibaddies love to read the Squib so much that they feel great pain and a deep sense of loss anytime the fire-workish magazine is not on the stands. A squibaddie confessed to me a couple of weeks ago that for him the squib is a weekly tonic which “I cannot afford to miss.”
However despite their addiction, there are squibaddies who cannot openly identify with their piece of ‘intellectual cocaine’ and engrossing literary howitzer.
On the surface, these members of the Nicodemus sub-specie of Squibaddies, may appear to have no interest at all in the “obnoxious publication.” In public and in polite circles, you will never hear or see them indicating any interest in the Squib. But there in their closets and drawers, both at home and in the office, you will find piles and piles of the obnoxious publication.
In getting their regular shots, Squibaddies of the Nicodemus sub-class are quite ingenious. I tell you. This is how they go about it. Sorry, I changed my mind. Instead of cheaply divulging the secret to you, I invite you on a voyage of discovery.
In the mornings, especially Mondays and Tuesdays, just go to a spot in the Ikeja High Court called the SQUIB ROTUNDA. You will see some Squib-selling folk there. After a while you will see some other folk coming from different temples of justice, approaching the Rotunda, after glancing furtively about, one after the other. Usually these other folk hold big brown envelopes in their hands. Then when they are right under the Rotunda, these envelope bearers quickly give some quid to the Squib sellers and with the same alacrity pick their ‘drug’ and deposit it efficiently in their envelopes. Then they go back to their offices and to their lords.
Some minutes later, you will hear (if you have Squib-like ears) one ‘milord or milady calling another milady on the phone, saying
“Ah, have you seen the Squib today? It is too much.
Omo yen o ni pa wa! (that guy will not be the death of us!) I won’t lend you my copy. Go and get yours.”
Of course, it is no surprise then that more and more envelope bearers will turn up from you know where, for you know what, under the SQUIB ROTUNDA.
Timi's Will
We have, I believe come to the end of Act One in the increasingly fascinating play/soap opera called “TIMI’S (Unseen) WILL. Don’t tell me you’ve not been watching this opera. Gosh! Have you been spending all your time on lesser entertainment such as BB2 – where much of what you get to see is muck: - mock home, mock home-making, mock love, mock lovemaking and real mammary gland exposure! For those who may not know, Timi’s (Unseen) Will hereinafter referred to as TUW is just about four very grown up children of a famous Nigerian lawyer who died in 2005. These children, all boys, sorry, all men are warring amongst themselves over the control and I dare say, enjoyment of their late father’s vast estate.
So far, it is an even, balanced contest – it is a two against two thing. That’s an indication of how decent and fair minded children from a greatly cultured family background behave even when at war. Two against two is neat, nice and meet.
Now let me give some flesh to the identities of the dramatis persona.
The paterfamilias of the four fighting children is none other than Frederick Rotimi Alade Williams S.A.N a.k.a Timi the Law. Timi’s first son is Ladi a.k.a “Ladi Gentleman” (in his younger days). The second is Kayode, a prosperous land tiller. The third is Folarin, a lawyer and business man. The last but not the least or darkest is Tokunbo, a lawyer too and a Senior Advocate like his first brother – Ladi.
Further information about the dispute is that the two older brothers (Ladi and Kayode) are more or less together while the younger two, Folarin and Tokunbo form the opposing force. To put it in sharper relief, we have a tag-team ‘A’ LADIKAY fighting tag-team ‘B’ to wit FOLATOKS.
So far, the most intriguing aspect of the plot of the play is the absence of F.R.A Williams’ Will. That fact to many people seems quite odd indeed. How can it be that a lawyer of F.R.A Williams’ status would not leave behind a Will to govern the administration and appropriation of his vast estate?
This is the question millions of Nigerians have been asking one another since the opera debuted. Of course, everybody knows Rotimi Williams was not just any lawyer. He was the best, the very best, not only in Nigeria, but in all of Africa. So why should such a man leave a vast financial empire without a will?
Could his action stem from ignorance? Could it be an oversight? Could it be from wickedness? Could it be from indifference? I suspect and there are a few others who suspect that, the extraordinary F.R.A actually wrote and left a will, but in an extra-ordinary manner. Such a will cannot be seen with the naked eyes, or held with bare fingers. It is only sages and deep spiritualists that can see F.R.A Williams Will. Are you puzzled? If so, then this story will help.
Once upon a time a wealthy trader died. Before he died, he gathered his twenty children around his bed and prayed for them. Days before his transition he kept telling his children never to depend on his wealth or other inheritance but to struggle and really make their own names and fortunes. Just before he died, he indicated where he kept his fortunes – a very large, uncultivated farmland of several acres.
Said the old man, - “All my jewelry, my sacks of money are somewhere there.”
What news this was in the ears of the children – they knew never knew how really wealthy their father was! After burying the old man, the children could hardly wait to discover their fortune.
Three days after their old man was committed to mother earth, the troop rushed to the farmland. They searched diligently through the bush, combed all the undergrowth but drew blank. The failure to find the bags of treasure their father hid on the farmland saddened and puzzled the trader’s children. So they embarked on another search, this time around, more thoroughly and very slowly. Alas, after three days of meticulous search, they discovered nothing more precious than a dozen eggs of a partridge, ten snails and the shed skin of an old snake.
Feeling very sad indeed, the troop decided to seek from an elder, counsel about their predicament. The elder asked them to dig up the farmland; “somewhere on the farm lies your father’s treasure.” It took the twenty children three whole weeks to complete their labour. It was indeed a backbreaking job. But once again, it yielded no treasure.
Thoroughly beaten by now, the embittered and dispirited children trooped back to the house of the elder who had instructed them to dig up the farmland and told him of their misfortune. The elder however insisted that their father’s treasure was nowhere else but in that field. The old man spoke with such confidence and authority that the children went back to the “treasure site” reinvigorated, to conduct a fresh search.
Armed with hoes, cutlasses, rakes and other farm implements, they ploughed the earth once again. This new effort took them twelve days to complete. Yet, no dice! Now, completely miffed and exhausted, the poor children of the wealthy father dropped the farm implements, sank to the ground and began to weep.
Oh, how they ululated! And what a sight they made. Twenty grown men weeping their heads off in the centre of more than fifty acres of freshly ploughed land.
They were so lost in their emotions that they did not realize that the sky had started turning dark with rain clouds. Suddenly, the big, loud, slow grumbling rumble of thunder sounded in their ears. A few minutes later, scattered fat drops of tears from the sky dropped to the earth. Some of the sparse sprinkles fell on the children.
Suddenly, the eldest child, a man of sixty years, called Niniola jumped up and hushed up his brothers.
“Listen to me,” Nini shouted and looked up into the heavenlies with arms outstretched. His brothers were surprised at his rather dramatic pose. But they became even more startled when the man started laughing –first gently, silently and then vigorously and uproariously. Nini’s brothers quickly scrambled to their feet, worried about their brother’s sanity. Poor chap, they thought, the disappointment had surely “turned his head.”
Their fears became reinforced when Niniola, with quite a rapturous look on his face declared:
“My people, the treasure is here, I see papa’s treasure. It is here! It is here! “Where is it?” the other brothers shouted in unison, feeling the stirring of hope once again in their bosoms.
Our father’s treasure, his gold, his money, everything is all around us, here in this field now, and in other fields.”
“But show us now, now. We’ve suffered enough. No need to waste further time,” chorused his brothers.
“If I show you how to get it, will you believe me, will you obey? “We all will!” shouted his siblings. So Niniola showed them. He told them to plant the vast acres with seeds and tubers. And mercifully, they obeyed. And the Lord blessed their efforts and they became richer than their father, richer than they could ever have imagined, certainly more than they could have been, if they had been content with sharing amongst themselves, their inheritance.
Now let’s get back to the story of Rotimi Williams and his quarrelling children. Can you now begin to see that the great lawyer in not leaving a Will, actually left a Will?
Timi, the genius lawyer was neither a fool nor an irresponsible father. I assure you. Can you see the old man’s will now? I see it. And I tell you its contents. The legend reads:
“Ladi, Kayode, Folarin, Tokunbo, my dear children.
I leave you all this vast estate and stupendous wealth.
If I share it equally, one or two of you will complain and contest my Will. If I do not share equally, one or two will complain and contest my Will.
But if I leave it for you to share among yourselves, the whole world will see and judge by the way you handle my wealth whether you are indeed children worthy of coming from my loins or not. If you handle it well, the glory is yours.
If you handle it badly, the shame is yours.
Remember I am no longer in the flesh. Material wealth does not count with me any more.
“Alagemo ti bi omo e na”
“Ai mojo ku sowo e.”
Related links: www.squibcoverstory.blogspot.com
http://www.squiblogg.blogspot.com
http://www.editorspark.wordpress.com
So far, it is an even, balanced contest – it is a two against two thing. That’s an indication of how decent and fair minded children from a greatly cultured family background behave even when at war. Two against two is neat, nice and meet.
Now let me give some flesh to the identities of the dramatis persona.
The paterfamilias of the four fighting children is none other than Frederick Rotimi Alade Williams S.A.N a.k.a Timi the Law. Timi’s first son is Ladi a.k.a “Ladi Gentleman” (in his younger days). The second is Kayode, a prosperous land tiller. The third is Folarin, a lawyer and business man. The last but not the least or darkest is Tokunbo, a lawyer too and a Senior Advocate like his first brother – Ladi.
Further information about the dispute is that the two older brothers (Ladi and Kayode) are more or less together while the younger two, Folarin and Tokunbo form the opposing force. To put it in sharper relief, we have a tag-team ‘A’ LADIKAY fighting tag-team ‘B’ to wit FOLATOKS.
So far, the most intriguing aspect of the plot of the play is the absence of F.R.A Williams’ Will. That fact to many people seems quite odd indeed. How can it be that a lawyer of F.R.A Williams’ status would not leave behind a Will to govern the administration and appropriation of his vast estate?
This is the question millions of Nigerians have been asking one another since the opera debuted. Of course, everybody knows Rotimi Williams was not just any lawyer. He was the best, the very best, not only in Nigeria, but in all of Africa. So why should such a man leave a vast financial empire without a will?
Could his action stem from ignorance? Could it be an oversight? Could it be from wickedness? Could it be from indifference? I suspect and there are a few others who suspect that, the extraordinary F.R.A actually wrote and left a will, but in an extra-ordinary manner. Such a will cannot be seen with the naked eyes, or held with bare fingers. It is only sages and deep spiritualists that can see F.R.A Williams Will. Are you puzzled? If so, then this story will help.
Once upon a time a wealthy trader died. Before he died, he gathered his twenty children around his bed and prayed for them. Days before his transition he kept telling his children never to depend on his wealth or other inheritance but to struggle and really make their own names and fortunes. Just before he died, he indicated where he kept his fortunes – a very large, uncultivated farmland of several acres.
Said the old man, - “All my jewelry, my sacks of money are somewhere there.”
What news this was in the ears of the children – they knew never knew how really wealthy their father was! After burying the old man, the children could hardly wait to discover their fortune.
Three days after their old man was committed to mother earth, the troop rushed to the farmland. They searched diligently through the bush, combed all the undergrowth but drew blank. The failure to find the bags of treasure their father hid on the farmland saddened and puzzled the trader’s children. So they embarked on another search, this time around, more thoroughly and very slowly. Alas, after three days of meticulous search, they discovered nothing more precious than a dozen eggs of a partridge, ten snails and the shed skin of an old snake.
Feeling very sad indeed, the troop decided to seek from an elder, counsel about their predicament. The elder asked them to dig up the farmland; “somewhere on the farm lies your father’s treasure.” It took the twenty children three whole weeks to complete their labour. It was indeed a backbreaking job. But once again, it yielded no treasure.
Thoroughly beaten by now, the embittered and dispirited children trooped back to the house of the elder who had instructed them to dig up the farmland and told him of their misfortune. The elder however insisted that their father’s treasure was nowhere else but in that field. The old man spoke with such confidence and authority that the children went back to the “treasure site” reinvigorated, to conduct a fresh search.
Armed with hoes, cutlasses, rakes and other farm implements, they ploughed the earth once again. This new effort took them twelve days to complete. Yet, no dice! Now, completely miffed and exhausted, the poor children of the wealthy father dropped the farm implements, sank to the ground and began to weep.
Oh, how they ululated! And what a sight they made. Twenty grown men weeping their heads off in the centre of more than fifty acres of freshly ploughed land.
They were so lost in their emotions that they did not realize that the sky had started turning dark with rain clouds. Suddenly, the big, loud, slow grumbling rumble of thunder sounded in their ears. A few minutes later, scattered fat drops of tears from the sky dropped to the earth. Some of the sparse sprinkles fell on the children.
Suddenly, the eldest child, a man of sixty years, called Niniola jumped up and hushed up his brothers.
“Listen to me,” Nini shouted and looked up into the heavenlies with arms outstretched. His brothers were surprised at his rather dramatic pose. But they became even more startled when the man started laughing –first gently, silently and then vigorously and uproariously. Nini’s brothers quickly scrambled to their feet, worried about their brother’s sanity. Poor chap, they thought, the disappointment had surely “turned his head.”
Their fears became reinforced when Niniola, with quite a rapturous look on his face declared:
“My people, the treasure is here, I see papa’s treasure. It is here! It is here! “Where is it?” the other brothers shouted in unison, feeling the stirring of hope once again in their bosoms.
Our father’s treasure, his gold, his money, everything is all around us, here in this field now, and in other fields.”
“But show us now, now. We’ve suffered enough. No need to waste further time,” chorused his brothers.
“If I show you how to get it, will you believe me, will you obey? “We all will!” shouted his siblings. So Niniola showed them. He told them to plant the vast acres with seeds and tubers. And mercifully, they obeyed. And the Lord blessed their efforts and they became richer than their father, richer than they could ever have imagined, certainly more than they could have been, if they had been content with sharing amongst themselves, their inheritance.
Now let’s get back to the story of Rotimi Williams and his quarrelling children. Can you now begin to see that the great lawyer in not leaving a Will, actually left a Will?
Timi, the genius lawyer was neither a fool nor an irresponsible father. I assure you. Can you see the old man’s will now? I see it. And I tell you its contents. The legend reads:
“Ladi, Kayode, Folarin, Tokunbo, my dear children.
I leave you all this vast estate and stupendous wealth.
If I share it equally, one or two of you will complain and contest my Will. If I do not share equally, one or two will complain and contest my Will.
But if I leave it for you to share among yourselves, the whole world will see and judge by the way you handle my wealth whether you are indeed children worthy of coming from my loins or not. If you handle it well, the glory is yours.
If you handle it badly, the shame is yours.
Remember I am no longer in the flesh. Material wealth does not count with me any more.
“Alagemo ti bi omo e na”
“Ai mojo ku sowo e.”
Related links: www.squibcoverstory.blogspot.com
http://www.squiblogg.blogspot.com
http://www.editorspark.wordpress.com
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