HURRAY, THE SQUIB IS TEN! By Adesina ogunlana

Can you believe this- we, I mean we all, the SQUIB FAMILY, we are ten years old. Ten solid years. A decade. One tenth of a century. Wonderful, absolutely wonderful. Incredible, really. Oh migosh…ten whole years!

The Squib is a well known brand magazine in the legal profession; it is so big that it has eclipsed the human identity of its founder, whose names ring a bell in legal circles, only in association with that of his creation, The Squib.

It may appear frivolous, the point just about to be made, that the Squib is probably the only magazine in Africa with multiple pet-names or and nicknames, but on sober reflection, one realizes that the fact is a strong indication of its strength and popularity.

Officially, ‘the Squib’ is the name of the magazine, but admirers also affectionately call it any of these nomenclatures: ‘Scoop,’ ‘Sukubu,’ ‘Skub,’ ‘Squibedo,’ ‘Skaib,’ and even ‘Shaibu!’

However ten years ago on March 22, 2001 when the Squib first hit the stands, the story was different. The Publisher and Editor of the Squib, barely five years old at the bar then, was just any other lawyer, even though his street circulated one-page ‘The Learned Squib Articles’ was beginning to make waves with his fierce, caustic and belligerently agitational but arresting writing style; later carried over to the Squib Magazine, to date.

The Squib was even worse off; it was a completely unknown quantity and quality. Many predicted its failure and death for various “tangible” reasons including the following:

1.   The Squib is too confrontational and destabilizing in its editorial approach to last, since the authorities are bound to react negatively to that provocative stance.

2.   The Publisher is a poor, young struggling lawyer and as such cannot sustain a capital intensive project like magazine publication.

3.   The Publisher is untrained in journalism to do any good job and the Squib is too rough and unattractive at any rate, to be accepted in the market.

4.   Generally, newspapers and magazines have high mortality rates in Nigeria – even those backed by loads of cash and hi-tech.

Interestingly, the predictions of doom have fallen flat, while The Squib, a little acorn of yore has grown and is still growing to a mighty oak.

Oh yes, there have been great hurdles on our way and the road has been rough. Financially we have been stretched and are still being stretched. Physically, our lives have been under open threat and on the line at least three times. Our professional career as a legal practitioner was under siege for many years (2001 – 2010) as the Lagos State Judiciary and the NBA maintained action against us before the Disciplinary Committee of the Body of Benchers.

Even now despite the withdrawal of the complaint against us by the Lagos State Judiciary and the Nigerian Bar Association (under former President, Rotimi Akeredolu SAN), the formal and final discontinuance by the Disciplinary Committee is yet to be done.

We had thought to roll out the drums in celebration of our tenth anniversary – deservedly so; for we have mostly walked in the ‘shadows of the valley of death’ these past years and survived and even done more than survived, thrived.

However on second thoughts, we realized that we still have a long way to go in the achievement of our mission:-

The Squib is born to correct and change the many unhealthy traditions and progressive developments in the legal profession and the judiciary. This critical medium shall be sharp, nay trenchant in its criticism but shall never be unfair or malicious. Naturally the Squib shall tread on toes (especially of serpents). ’Tis to be expected. The truth is the hardest hitting pugilist. Pray for the Squib.

Our immediate constituency, the Lagos State Judiciary may no longer be a malodorous cesspit of sickening corruption and inefficiency but it is still far, very far from El-Dorado. You all know what I mean.

The legal profession still also has bad eggs and rotten apples, even in the upper echelons.

Thus there is still a lot of work to do and little or no time or even basis to celebrate.

The only celebration we are allowing ourselves is to thank God for all his mercies, protection, deliverance and provisions for us as an organization, since March 22 2001.

BUT FOR GOD, WE SURELY WOULD HAVE GONE UNDER AND FORGOTTEN.

THANK YOU BABA.

He gave us those wonderful workers, like Bola Oluboyo, Funmilayo Mendes, Shadia Rasaq, Segun Adaraloso and Temitope Israel, whose dedication to duty was well above average and in many cases uncommon.

He gave us those fantastic open supporters like “Daddy 3,” The Progressive Bar Forum, The NBA Ikeja Branch and those dear comrades, the Aluta Army and family of the Lagos State University Students Union (LASUSU) who helped us to stare down the Great Foe in the fierce, very physical confrontation of November 2001.

He gave us those equally fantastic secret supporters who regularly leaked and frustrated deadly plans and strategies of the Great Foes 1 & 2 against us. It is a pity we cannot mention names yet.

He gave us the GECKOES, without whose contributions, the Squib won’t be so much dreaded.

He gave us good and unbelievably supportive home front; our international editor, OMO FRANCA, that quietly strong girl who “sabi grammar even pass im wahala husband” and who allowed us the latitude and the peace of mind to do our dangerous aluta, without complaining too much.

And God is still giving us many more things that we just marvel at. For example he has given us, before our very eyes in our presence, a Pharaoh that knows and sincerely appreciates our Joseph.

I mention a name here Mr. or (is it Mrs.) Justice Inumidun Enitan Akande, incumbent Chief Judge of Lagos State.

In rounding off this piece, it is our prayer that we all will grow from strength to strength. To our dear readers – esteemed Squibbers, please keep praying for us. We need your constant prayers. Our charge to you ten years ago remains unchanged: “Well, until when next the parliament opens, do not take it easy. Give life your best shots. Do not go to your grave with your songs unsung and your heads bowed. Enjoy your life. Enjoy your Squib. You know what?

 “The Heavens Will Not Fall!”

'Agbero' By Adesina Ogunlana

If you are an aficionado of “African Magic Yoruba” Channel on the DSTV, then you cannot be a stranger to (at least seeing) fetish practices and display of supernatural powers.

It is common to see on AMY Channel, fantastic occurrences, for example a tortoise can be heard speaking Portuguese, while a doorway can become a dense, impenetrable forest. All too easily a human being can become a squirrel, while a mere look can render an opponent dumb and deaf. Regularly the dead do wake up to debunk the popular saying that “Dead men don’t talk”. In AMY they not only wake up, they exact terrible vengeance on their murderers. There are potions you are made to drink on AMY that loosens the tightest tongue. Thus a hitherto stubborn, evildoer determined to keep sealed lips turns canary.

Whenever I see any fantastic AMY scenes, I re-assure myself that they can only happen in the television world of make belief otherwise it would have been terrible indeed. If for example a malevolent neighbour in a fit of pique could turn one to an “Idumota Statue” or if a mere child can become an ogre chasing one about with a pestle.

However my confidence became terribly shaken a few days ago after learning that it is quite possible and very easy to have AMY scenes in real life.

I was told that right in the premises of a magistrate court, a legal practitioner saw a magistrate whom he had known way back in school (University) as a faculty mate.

Hailing the magistrate, the lawyer stretched out his hand to the judex wearing a wide happy smile and clearly expecting an equally warm response.

Alas, the magistrate did not deem a response necessary or appropriate and calmly walked past the obviously stunned lawyer who suffered the “Agbero” effect for at least two minutes as his outstretched hand hung in the air. He tried his best to bring it down but just could not. In shock, in awe, in wonder.

How could Lagbaja do this to me? Is it because he is now a Magistrate? Ha? ha? Lagbaja of all people, Lagbaja that we used to rub shoulders with in school.

He was still wondering when the high and mighty Magistrate disappeared from sight.

'Open Letter to Honourable Justice Aloysius Katsina-Alu, Chief Justice of Nigeria: Mum is not the word

My Lord,

I am compelled to forward this letter to your Lordship in view of the very serious allegations made against you by no less a judicial giant than the president of the second highest court in the land, the Court of Appeal, His Lordship, Isa Ayo Salami J.(to be continued).

'Hell Hath No Fury' By Adesina Ogunlana

I have always believed that Williams Shakespeare, of course, you know him, that vaunted Band of Avon,  is an over- rated  and for that matter over used commodity.

He is so commonly cited or recited that it can be rightly said of him that he was, to all men, all things. In friendship or treachery, in love or hatred, in prosperity or wretchedness’ in turbulence or in calm, in fear or courage, in wisdom or tom foolery, in sincerity or in dissembling, in fecundity or aridity, Shakespeare always finds a place.

Shakespeare, I tell you is like a magic condiment that fits any soup. So is the Bard that

You can quote him not only to the living, but even to the transposed.

However, Bill Pearl (as the Yankees would have known and called William Shakespeare were he of the 21^st century)and his genius as I have always suspected was exaggerated by his legions of admirers

His philosophy, his insights his perceptions, so highly adulated are not always right, or apt.

One example suffices to prove my point. Let’s look at one of his most popular lines-

 “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”

This Shakespeare discloses two furies - one of hell, the other of a woman. According to Bill Peare, the fury of the Woman is greater than that of hell. This may sound impressive, possibly touching, but on what justifiable basis was this statement made?

For one, Peare was his assertion and in no other way privy to the volatility of the angst of the infernal region .So how did he know about the quality of Hell’s fury?

Second, how many women did Peare  know, in the real sense of the relevant know? History does not tell us he was a Lothario, or a Casanova or Solomon or even an M.K.O. Abiola.What much can any man who walked the narrow and shallow straits of monogamy know about the fury of women to now pontificate on it?

But an even more annoying assertion in the –

“Hell hath no fury……. saying is the reckoning of a woman’s anger to be the greatest and worst in creation.

How can that be true? What of the anger, fury, vexation of a frustrated Politician? A frustrated Nigerian politician like Iyiola Omisore, a former murderer accused but now a distinguished Senator of the Federal Republic of Nigeria.

For quite some time now, the Ile-Ife born politician has been dreaming of becoming the Governor of Osun State.  As far back as 1999. The most he had risen was to become a deputy Governor of a tight-fisted, old school Awoist of a Governor, in the person of Chief Bisi “Imposer” Akande.

After the ouster of the School head master –in - politics from the Governor’s seat in Osun State , a strange obstacle, in the person of Olagunsoye Oyinlola, a retired military officer but an acolyte of the bullish leader of the people’s Democratic Party (1999-2007)and the president of Nigeria (1999-2007).

This obstacle proved stronger than Omisore and he had to make do with a seat in the Nigerian Senate.

But he never forgot his dream

The patient dog, as they say, eats the fattest bone. Soon it became clear in the PDP that once Olagunsoye Oyinlola left the Gubernatorial seat in Osun State in 2012, Omisore would come in.

Alas, for the plans of men and mice! Suddenly another last minute obstacle rolled itself onto the path of Mr. Next Governor of Osun State in the person of Mr. Rauf Aregbesola of the Action Congress of Nigeria.

Aregbesola battled Oyinlola for three and a half years in the law courts, in challenge of the supposed Electoral Victory of Oyinlola at the polls in 2007.

Then late 2010, the Electoral petition Appeal Tribunal nullified Onyinlola’s victory  and Aregbesola become the Governor and presumably so far the next four years at least. Everybody knows it will not be easy to dissolve a civilian who dislodged a soldier from power. Well where does that leave Mr. Next Governor? It left him exactly in the position of the proverbial, hungry hunter whose quarry, the squirrel  had run up the Iroko tree (Okere gun roko oju ode da)

   Feeling very frustrated, depressed Omisore, like most sorely disappointed human beings went near manic with rage;His target was not the Squirrel or even his own gun, rather he sent his bullets flying all over the forest blaming the foliage and the woods for his misfortune; it was the very forest  that gave cover for the Squirrel to give him the slip!

I pity Senator Omisore. Boy it is not easy to be this near yet so far! How do you expect a man already hailed all over, even in the Senate as “Obalola” – ‘The incoming’ to feel, when  his fortunes that looked so promising suddenly and forcefully vaporises.

In the hell of his anger , frustrated Omisore is ready to pull the judiciary down and consequently the nation with his wild and scurrilons attack or the integrity of the court of appeal judges.

Which scorned women has such tsunamic fury? She would rather destroy her wretched lover her rival and he self, all still being in the family.

If not for anything else, by his latest ‘determination craze’ I am of the view that Omisore now Mr. Next Time Better Luck Governor is a very desperate politician. Now politicians can do just about any thing.

These Court of Appeal Judges need to be careful – when you are the friend of a politician, especially of a frustrated politician be careful, not to talk of when he has marked you down for an enemy.

 Beware! Hell hath no fury like a frustrated politician. 

'Golden Albert' By Adesina Ogunlana

There was this dinner I attended in November 2010, the remembrance of which makes me glad still. It was the dinner hosted by the Office of the Public Defender, Lagos State Ministry of Justice at the Lagos City Hall as part of her celebration of her 10th Anniversary as an institution.

The affair was not merely a dinner, but also an award night and so there were many dignitaries or “big men” as we often call them in these shores, at the end of the rather comfortably average dinner (however there was far lot more to drink, which encouraged the “lady party-packer” syndrome to get activated in some female guests with commodious handbags at the occasion especially when the lights of the hall dimmed) and the award ceremony began.

If I recollect correctly, the OPD awards went to no less than eight individuals including Mr. Bola Tinubu, the Asiwaju of Lagos, the immediate past Governor of the state and establisher of the OPD, Professor Yemi Osinbajo SAN, the immediate past Attorney General and Commissioner for Justice Lagos State, Mr. Fola Arthur-Worrey, the immediate past Solicitor-General of Lagos State, Honourable Justice Bisi Akinlade, the first Director of the OPD, and Honourable Justice Amina Augie JCA.

As each of the awardees were called out to receive their awards, there were polite claps of support, ably supported by the crash of flourish from the police band in attendance.

Then the announcement came that there was an award for the most outstanding OPD staff of the year. The Master of Ceremony then mentioned a name and oh, how do I best put the reaction from the ‘legion’ of OPD staff at the dinner? First, bedlam erupted and collided against ruckus before exploding in ecstacy!

I saw virtually all the legion of the OPD, especially the ladies, jump off their chairs, shriek deliriously and wave their limbs and other apartments of their bodies wildly and in rapturous delight.

At that point in time, the earlier awardees were forgotten in the incredibly loud celebration of this particular awardee. Neither a Governor nor Attorney General, nor Solicitor General nor Judge he was. He was not even a lawyer and certainly the youngest of all the awardees.

From what I gathered from the M.C., the super star merited his award for exemplary and uncommon dedication to work. The deafening approval of the hero’s choice by the OPD staff underscored the appropriateness of the award.

The gentleman in question would not forget that night in a hurry; obviously proud of himself, in his shy, self-effacing manner but bowled over by the thunderous approval of his choice by dozens of those who were his superiors in his work place.

The night would be special for him, because he could never have imagined a situation where he could ever share a glory platform with his former boss, Professor Yemi Osinbajo SAN (he was a clerk in the early 90s in the now defunct legal firm of OSINBAJO, KUKOYI AND ADOKPAYE) who also paved his way for his employment with the OPD when he was the Attorney General, not to talk of outshining him.

While the ladies were swooning over his boy, I stole a look at ‘prof’ (Yemi Osinbajo) and the great man was looking quite pleased with himself in that quiet gentle way of his.

Well, who is the subject matter of this piece? I know him simply as Albert; for a fuller knowledge, you may care to ask any OPD staff, especially them ladies. Just ask about Albert, Golden Albert.

'Israelite Journey' By Adesina Ogunlana

We are told by the Holy Bible that there was a time that the Israelites, used a whopping and even unbelievable forty years to complete a journey of forty days.



In mathematical terms it would read like this:


40 days = 24 hours x 40 = 720 hours.


40 years = 24 hours x 30 x 12 x 40 = 345,600 hours.


The difference between the two periods of time is, I believe only too clear!


One Monday not too long ago when I left my humble abode in Isolo at 10.30 a.m, I least knew I was embarking on an Israelite’s journey. My destination was the Lagos High Court, Igbosere, Lagos at most 18 kilometres away. My appointment with the priestess of Justice was 11:30 a.m.


No reason to fear. An hour is,ordinarily more than adequate for a car to eat up 18 kilometres of road. However I had not taken even 150 metres from my “doormat” when I hit a frozen traffic. As a smart guy, I quickly wheeled out of the adanidurodonigbese traffic and turned back. Immediately I saw that taking the Aiye Bus stop, Lagos Polytechnic-Daleko Bridge route to come out on the Oshodi Expresss Road was out of the question.


The traffic situation was tighter than a Scrooge’s fist. A brain wave hit me; go quickly to Mile 2, come out on the Oshodi Express and run post haste to the court. I accepted the wave of the brain and felt happy I did, until I reached Okota Road. The traffic on this road was not fast flowing but then it was not under lock and key, so I gamely went on. By the time I reached the back of the Jakande Estate on Mile 2, the time was already 11:30 a.m. I sent a message to the opposing counsel in my matter that I was stuck in traffic but hoped to be in court before 12:30 p.m. Suddenly I looked up towards the Mile 2 Express Way and I gave a definite cry of agony; about one hundred and fifty metres away was a gummed together traffic jam.


On the Express! In real panic, I quickly turned back with the intention of passing through Festac Town to LASU and from there tear down to Ikeja. I was already about half way to Festac when it hit me - Festac to LASU route might be a good thoroughfare, likewise LASU to Isheri round-about; but what about from there to Akowonjo which would lead me to the Agege Motor Way on to Ikeja?


Everybody knows that Isheri road to Akowonjo has become one of the roads to hell in Lagos. I was in a fix and knew it. I couldn’t proceed yet retreat was equally daunting. Should I turn and proceed to Mile 2 where I would connect the Oshodi Express Way or should I go back to Okota Road? I quickly jettisoned the idea of going back to Okota Road. That would be like voluntarily jumping into a pot of boiling oil. So I headed back to the immobility on the Mile 2-Apapa Express Way. When I inched nearer enough, I noticed that the clamped up traffic existed only on the service lane.


After about twenty minutes, I sweated to an exit point, which presented two choices. The first choice was to roil on in the snail-speed traffic, down to under the Mile 2 Bridge and then resurrect on the Oshodi bound stretch of the Express Way. The second choice was to “fly” straight and forward to the Liverpool side of the Mile 2-Apapa Wharf Express Way, go up and round the Liverpool Bridge and emerge on the Express Way to Oshodi.


I quickly did a silent prayer and then settled for the Liverpool route. I doubt whether I had ever made a worse traffic way decision. Alas, Liverpool (the service lane bend that would take me up the bridge) turned out to be a flooded, marshy catacomb, buried in yawning pits vast enough to accommodate hippopotami! The stretch of the crater filled road was less than a hundred metres but I spent (with a lot of prayers and supplication) at least fifty minutes there. That the car and I got out safely should be considered a miracle. At one point, I tested the depth of the pool with my shoes before plunging in, and during the maneuvers, I developed the mindset of a kamikaze fighter pilot. When I finally broke free of all vehicular barriers, it was already 1: p.m. As I sped on to the court, I received a message on the phone: “The court was already hearing the matter.” Gosh. But what to do than to speed on? When I got to the court ‘at last at last,’ it was 1:30 p.m. Predictably the session had ended, the court risen. Wow, what a day. An Israelite journey day!

' A Note for African leaders' by Adesina Ogunlana

Dear Sirs and Madams,

Of course this letter is meant for you. You, of course, you. You are a leader, alright, yes. It's true you are not the President, or a Minister, or a Governor, or a Commissioner. You are not a Mayor or a Councillor. You are not the head of the Civil or Public Service Ministry or a "parastatal." Maybe you are not a "traditional" ruler or even a village head. But then you hold an office. You have some authority. You have some people you direct, influence or affect. So then you are leader, maybe the leader of a small club or association, or department, or station or a shop. You do legitimate work. You have a title, some souls, maybe one, maybe two, three, four, seven, ten look up to you.
Yes, you may have none of those big paraphernalia of office or enjoy any tasty prerequisite of office, but why, you have some powers, control, influence over some other people, even in your alleged rat hole. You are a leader, my dear. It is important that you the African leader exercise your powers and discharge your duties with the greatest sense of responsibility. See, the African continent and its many disease ravaged, war-torn, poverty stricken, corruption crippled nations are in a big, big mess.
And the rest of the world see and treat us as nothing but fools and dirty swine.
How do I know? I just watched a film entitled HOTEL RWANDA. Maybe you too have watched it. It's about the genocide that bled Rwanda, one of the East African countries in the early 1990s.
At the height of the conflict between the majority but historically disfavoured Hutu and the minority but historically favoured Tutsi, the massacre of the Tutsi in their hundreds was a daily affair. The United Nations sent only a few troops – peacekeepers they called them, maybe about three hundred. The massacre continued but the world just looked on. At a point the French sent some troops and the hundreds of traumatized victims, those still alive rejoiced. They thought a saving interventionist force had come. But it was a hope, sorely misplaced; the French had come for the bail out of foreign nationals – the ‘Oyinbos.’
Why so? The beleaguered head of the United Nation troops gave the reason as far as the Western World was concerned; the millions of affected Rwandans were not worthy of attention, help or rescue.
Why so? The Rwandans were so inferior in the scale of humanity that they, were in the eyes of the Western World, lower than the already despised ‘Niggers.’


Said the UN troop leader to the hero of the film – “You (referring to Rwandans) are not (even) Niggers. You are Africans.” It hurt to hear this. To know that some other human beings so very poorly regard us, another set of homo-sapiens, that our terrible suffering and horrendous loss of lives mean nothing or little to them. Why so? I guess one finds it very tempting to consider the Whites callous and barbaric cousins of the Devil himself. But that’s only one way of looking at it.
Can one heap the blame completely on the Whites for seeing us as sub-humans? Don’t we deserve the opprobrium seeing the way we ruin, instead of run our lives and our economies, and our institutions and our nations and souls and our bodies by our unrelenting and shameless thieving gluttony and shocking selfishness.
Virtually all our leaders, in both small and big positions are liars and self seekers, who take and hold public office with the grim determination to enrich themselves at the expense of those they ought to serve.
This global mismanagement of the resources of the African people by their own leaders, negroes, Africans like themselves is the reason for 99% of the unspeakable woes of the Black man and which woeful, doleful condition has made us repugnant in the eye of the rest of the world.
Who will save the African?
Nobody, except…..
Please fill in the gap.


Squib Health at  http://www.squibhealth.blogspot.com

''Yampion People" By Adesina Ogunlana

pls click red link to read squib readers pavilion http://www.squibreaderspavilion.blogspot.com

You've probably have heard this joke – a south westerner was at the newsstands and requested for “a copy of the “Champion” news paper. Said the amala-abula man to the vendor – “give me sampion”
It was almost instantaneous, the guffaw that came from a bystander who after recovering from a hearty stretch of laughter said “see this man o, na yampion you dey call “sampion"
According to a newspaper report an organization named “ANTI BABANGIDA COALITION" (ABC) declared that it would mount an insurgency should General Ibrahim Babangida become the next president of the country.
I was aghast at this news. The ABC people were said to be a group of “activists” earnestly contending for democracy. If the news item was correct, then the ABC would be a very strange type of apostles of democracy.
The most elementary of lessons in democracy is that it is a “game of numbers” – the Candidate with the greatest number of popular support have the office be he a killer, drunkard, treasury looter, drug dealer, bomb thrower or even bum pumper. The whole idea is to give effect to the ‘Ori-Ojori’ political myth of the EQUALITY of men, which is the kernel of DEMOCRACY and its famous character of “Majority carries the day”
Every political philosophy has decision makers – in theocracy, God, in gerontocracy, the elders, in autocracy, the junta, in aristocracy, the elite, in monarchism, royalty, in plutocracy, money bags, in democracy, the people.
And, that is why Democracy is so simply and beautifully described as “government of the people, by the people and for the people, but in reality it is the government of the people, by the will of the majority of the people, for the people.
It is therefore a compulsion for a democrat that the wishes of the people is considered and treated as sacrosanct.
Of course, the views of the people are not always sound and the choice of the majority is not always good but a democrat abides by it, for the majority, by its sheer superiority of numbers is deemed to appreciate the point in question better than the minority.
So when the ABC folks say that they would ‘take to the bush’ and fight to the end, should Babangida emerge President, they betray either an ignorance of the understanding of the essential Democracy or worse, they expose the fact that they themselves are tyrants and no democrats.
It could have been a different matter had they premised their threatened insurgency on the event of Babangida’s FRAUDULENT emergence as the next president of Nigeria. In the 1998 build-up to the 1999 General Elections, General Theophilus Danjuma scandalised many people when he vowed to go on self-exile should his choice for the nation’s presidency Olusegun “Umoru are you dead?” Obasanjo lose the elections.
Note that Danjuma’s position effectively is that “I will remove myself from the scene if my candidate fails and not that I will forcefully change the scene to suit my will and preference”. Yet many people, including elements of the ABC sharply criticized Danjuma. But the ABC people have done much worse now. Unlike Danjuma, their position is that if Babangida should be the popular choice they will fight that choice. That is not only wrong, it is abominable. ‘Yampion’ is a worse pronunciation of ‘Champion’ than ‘Sampion.’

"Wahala Dey' By Adesina Ogunlana

A signature tune on the tube of one of the better known stress depressors in the land is an excitable ululation of “Wahala dey!”



To this particular comedian “wahala dey” is a far cry from the true character of “wahala” better known in Nigerian English as “big, big trouble.”


In this piece, as you will very soon find out when I say “Wahala dey” I mean exactly nothing less.


Some days ago, (Friday 15 October 2010) I was a guest at a dinner organized by a group of law undergraduates. It was a memorable day alright, but not for all the right reasons.


It was a big privilege, indeed honour to be put on the high table, where also sat one of those at whose feet twenty years ago, I was fed the milk of law as a fresher.


Also on the high table was a “worshipful majesty,” a great friend of the 1st Gecko who continues to tease me as a “small boy” even though discreet scientific investigation has shown that I landed on this terra firma before her.


Of course we the “older-generation" had issues to pick with the “generation of the day” our hosts. We disagreed with their dressing (disco party wears mostly), with their “lingo” (especially the penchant for introducing lawyers as “Barrister This and Barrister That" as well as their reference to themselves as “lawyers-in-equity."


From the lecturer in our midst, we heard depressing information about the state of university education in Nigerian. For example we learnt that class population of students can be as high as 450. Twenty years ago, we were only 46 in number in my set.


We also learnt that the command of the English language of the average law student is so poor it would be easier marking a law examination script written in pidgin Greek than wading through the scripts of the modern law undergraduates written in specially concocted English.


As if that was not enough, we learnt that it was a common thing for “stubborn” lecturers to be threatened to 'pass' even the most “yammy” of his class or face severe, nay, fatal sanctions.


The most chilling of the news from “my oga” was that due to the high rate of failure amongst students, 40% was no longer the pass mark, but 25%!
Even at that about 35% of these students still fail.

In effect what the universities are churning out these days are nothing but “certificated ignoramuses," be they labeled “engineers,” “doctors,” “accountants,” “lawyers” etc.


It has been said that half education is dangerous, so what do we say of quarter education: ‘dangerful?'
Listen to my lecturer:


"I was teaching on the topic of legal capacity and how it relates to infants. You know the stuff about how an infant can only have capacity to contract for necessaries. So I gave an example of infant entering a contract to buy a bicycle, only for one wonderful student to say such an infant is only putting himself in unnecessary danger: “what if the BRT buses should run him over?”


My people-Ah, wahala dey!

'An African Tragedy' By Adesina Ogunlana

Omo ale


Lo n fi ow osi


Ju ‘we ile baba re” (Yoruba proverb)


(Only a bastard points out his father’s house with his left hand)






Sometimes last month, in the fore-teeth of September, I was on official duty as it were, one fine Sunday afternoon, to Ibadan.


The occasion was the thanksgiving service and reception of Mr. Erhabor 2nd Vice President NBA for his electoral success in the last Delegates election of the NBA in July 2010.


Expectedly O.J’s friends, relatives, admirers turned up at the event, likewise his political supporters and strategists. Success is never a lonely brand.


It was a rich quiet victory dance of a thanksgiving service. It was praises galore to God for the “wonderful victory” recorded by O.J at the polls. The man himself received a lot of commendations from all and sundry.


Yet the happy event was marred for me, incidentally from rather unlikely quarters; a royal father from Ilesa, Oyo State- O.J’s practice base.


The royal father, a high chief from Ilesa who was more or less the representative of the paramount ruler of Ijesa land prefaced his speech with these stunning remarks- “When I left home, today the Kabiyesi specifically instructed me that I should not speak the English language here, that I should deliver his message at this gathering in Yoruba language. But when I got here and saw the array of learned men all over here, I was perplexed. I thought within me how could I deliver Kabiyesi’s message in this August gathering in Yoruba. So as things stand, I will speak in English and when I get home, I will tell Kabiyesi that I just could not speak Yoruba in the place you sent me”






I was shocked and saddened at this declaration which was a desecration of culture, a perfect and tragic self abnegation and degradation of the entity called the Africa. The greater tragedy was that the foul talk was greeted with applause, smiles and wide grins. What a horror - like you must feel, seeing a mad man marching up and down a busy street in broad day light, in only his skin, arms akimbo and whistling merrily away! My sadness can only be imagined. By his declaration, the chief (is he really a chief?) thumped his race in the face. How can a true Africa high chief declare openly that he could not obey his monarch and did just that brazenly? What a sorry pass the African ‘monarchy’ (even if only decorative) has come to, that the instructions of a first class king like the Owa of Ilesa could be treated with levity by his own ambassador. The chief’s (is he really a chief?) position is quite clear - Yoruba is not a language fit for the society of civilized folks and enlightened souls, but fit I reasonably presume for the hills of Philistia and Isles of Barbary!


Oh, how are the mighty fallen! Oh what arrant nonsense! Yoruba the home of a thousand and one poetics, the flute of the dirge, the trumpet of the panegyrist, the drum of the Oshugbo, the voice of the Ifa the unerring deity of divination, the conductor of the potent invocation, the very tongue of Oduduwa, understood and respected in the heavenly ………. Now not good for use in the midst of mere mortals who happen to be lawyers?


Indeed, how very low are the mighty fallen! That Ilesa chief is typical of most Africans; deep, fervent and incorrigible believers in the inferiority of the African in the comity of the human race.


Oh, pity for a people who take pride in other people and pour scorn on themselves. Oh, pity for self made, self-defined slaves. Oh, pity for a race that calls others giants and themselves mites. Oh, pity for fools and ignoramuses. As for me I AM BLACK AND PROUD.

'NBA ELECTIONS 2010: LET THE TRUTH BE TOLD' By Adesina Ogunlana

Immediately the 2010 general elections of the Nigerian Bar Association ended and the results announced, late in the evening of 29" July 2010 at the JOGOR CENTRE, Ibadan, Oyo state, the organizers and the winners of the election have not been silent in awarding high pass marks for the conduct of the elections which has been lavishly described as a huge success and prescribed a model for the larger Nigeria polity to copy.


Reading the many fulsome praises of the said elections, the ordinary man on the streets would be forgiven to think it a perfectly executed event devoid of any blemish or shenanigan whatsoever.


However any honest and informed participant or, and observer would admit that the claims of a perfect election are in reality, the inflation of the truth.


In the humble view of this columnist, the more correct assessment would be that the winners actually defeated their opponents at the polls; a more credible election could easily had been conducted.
A dispassionate view of the election would show that the Electoral Committee headed by Mr. Obi Okwusogu S.A.N erred in some vital areas.


Though accreditation of the compiled List of Voters, on delegates voters was smooth and displayed before the election, simple enough but it was observed showing the voting strength of during the accreditation exercise that there were pockets of complaints from individuals, branches and even some candidates over their registration to General Secretary Ibrahim Mark and Obi Okwusogu about the exclusion or inclusion of some names from the list of delegates.
The resolution of these complaints was fluid as a lot then depended on the personality of the complainant and the discretion of Ibrahim Mark and Obi Okwusogu SAN. For example three candidates from Ikeja branch in the elections Adekunnle Ajasa (financial secretary), Chinwe Nwadike (assistant financial secretary) and Dare Akande (2nd vice president) got accredited as voters only after the vigorous intervention of their branch secretary hours after Ajasa had tried and failed.
On the day of the election itself, it is a fact there was no list of Accredited Delegate voters, before, during or after the elections. In the event, nobody knew how many delegates voted until after the votes were cast when voter stubs were counted numbering 1,204, excluding uncounted rejects. Interestingly the total approved votes cast in the presidential election amounted to 1,205 with 718 going to J.B Dauda and 487 for J.K Gadzama. Clearly the proper procedure ought to be existence of a compiled List of Voters, on Display before the election, showing the voting strength of each of the 88 branches as well as the identities and numbers of automatic voters like Senior Advocacies of Nigeria, Benchers, past National Presidents and General Secretaries, accredited for the election.




In consequence, under the arrangement, the best data that could be had was the number of voters, correlating to the number of votes cast but it could not and did not show or prove the lawful eligibility of the voters. So if the voters included mercenaries and other otherwise unqualified entities, there was no way knowing.


During the voting, this reporter noticed that among delegate voters purportedly from Ibadan branch, at least two, wore double tags on their necks, bearing “observer”, and “delegate.” You wondered whether a person could both be observer and delegate at the same time!


Another low point of the elections that was papered over is the fact that the chairman of the Electoral Committee, Obi Okwusogu SAN perpetrated what could be described as “agent harassment and intimidation.” In the short pre-voting meeting of the Electoral Committee with the agents of the various candidates, Obi Okwusogu S.A.N., the chairman of the E.C throughout maintained the perfervid temperament of a beleaguered porcupine! He was to say the least oppressive in his manners, yelling, hectoring and rudely hushing up any agent who dared express any opinion or ask any question. The charged up silk repeatedly tossed the threat of "under the constitution I have the power to conduct this election and I will order any one out who does not comply with our regulations."


Certainly this bullying by an electoral chief, should not be commended to the Nigerian polity by any right thinking adviser! Why Okwusogu SAN normally a calm, amiable and easy going gentleman became so needlessly irascible and even power-drunk was simply bewildering but the conduct put up by him was construed in certain quarters as nothing more than a ploy to cow the agents of the candidates from opposing any untoward actions of the Electoral Committee.


The participation of Mrs. Fatima Kwaku in the Electoral Committee and conduct of the elections was another low point in the elections. It would be recalled that Kwaku had been deeply involved in the bitter and uproarious dispute that arose over the failed attempt by the falsely monolithic Northern Lawyers Forum a.k.a Arewa to present J. B. Daudu S.A.N as the single presidential candidate in the election and keep J. K. Gadzama out of the race. Up to the very day of the election Kwaku was a well known J. B. Daudu supporter, yet she and other so called learned elders and sages saw no sense in the decency that dictated her self-retirement from the electoral
committee!


In the course of the election proper maybe about three hours after the commencement of voting, the pair of Funmi Roberts and Chief Niyi Akintola rushed in one after the other, may be in the interval of thirty minutes to plead with the agents to agree to the opening of the voting hall to the huge crowd of voters outside.
According to the two lawyers, incidentally both who were co-chairmen of the Local Organising Committee of the Ibadan Delegates conference, the gates to the voting
hall should be opened since the "crowd outside were setting uncontrollable and wild and would soon force their way any how."
Chief Niyi Akintola SAN, a loud and virulent Dauduist was especially earnest in this claim. But when pointedly reminded by this reporter that he lacked the locus to press for such a thing, as to regulating access of voters, he not being part of the Electoral
Committee, his response to the QUO VADIS was a lame "we are only trying to find a solution and some people are just shouting."
All this while, the Electoral Committee maintained a sedate, "all-is-well-in-Zion posture" and did nothing!


The pertinent questions begging for answers were and still are:


1. Is throwing the gates open to a frenzied crowd, on an election ground, a reasonable
option?
2. Who was responsible for lack of crowd control?
3. Why was there such a massive crowd build-up considering the fact that NBA elections normally take 10-15 hours to conclude, and there had been no precedent of
crowd disturbance or unruliness since 1998, after the rebirth of the NBA?


In the light of all the above issues and points, I submit that any well meaning Nigerian patriot will find it hard to recommend the just concluded elections and the
accompanying shenanigans to this lamentable country.


An election where tribalism was a major factor, where key conductors were partisan, where there was no (display of) voters register, where crowd-control was poor, where voters accreditation was not transparent and where election conductors threatened,
terrorised and intimidated agents from asking relevant questions.


I close with this observation. In the Ibadan Delegate Conference election only about 1,204 voters voted in one voting centre. Imagine if it was an election of 30 million voters in 500,000 centres. Just imagine.

'Go, Man, Go' By Adesina Ogunlana

Eni egungun
Lese lo n se
Laka n laka
Ta la be lo (Yoruba Proverb)
(The needy perforce goes to
the provider)


For the past three weeks now I have been on the campaign train of my candidate for the office of the 2nd Vice-president of the NBA, Oludare Akande of the Ikeja branch.


Most of this time was spent traversing the whole of the North. We were, so to say, everywhere. We had meetings with the Lokoja, Lafia, Bauchi, Birnin Kebbi, Kafanchan, Kano, Kaduna, Katsina, Jos, Jalingo, Makurdi, Minna, Maiduguri, Gboko, Gusau, Gombe, Sokoto, Suleija, Wukari, Yola, Okene, Pankshin, Damaturu, Idah branches of our great association, the N.B.A.


Our peregrinations could not have covered less than ten thousand kilometers, for truly the North is a vast space.


When we got to Kaduna, we met an elder and a former president of the association Prince Lanke Odogiyon. The Egbon welcomed as cheerfully
to his sizeable office and interacted meaningfully with us. But he expressed a view, which went unchallenged due only out of respect for the author.
According to the Prince-President, it was regrettable and dismaying that contestants for offices into the Executive Committee of the N.B.A had to cover huge distances on campaign trails.


Said Odogiyon '"when a lady, a contestant from one of the Eastern states phoned me that she would be coming to Kaduna to campaign to us, I was shocked. Come to Kaduna for what? I told her not to come.
It is too dangerous, too stressful and too expensive to be travelling up and down the country because of votes. In my time as president we banned this moving up and down but I don't know why Akeredolu is allowing it. May be we are not serious about this thing, because there has been no case of fatal accidents attending our campaigns."


With due respect to the Prince of the Niger, I see no merit at all in his position. When did going on the hustings by candidates seeking elective posts become a crime?


I have always thought that Law and Politics are soul-mates and that lawyers are best suited to understand political philosophy and practice than any other class of people.


One of the key ingredients of Democracy as a political system is election based on the equality of voting franchise of "one man, one vote." Even an ass knows this.
Two, the votes, specifically the majority of votes determine who gets the office.
Three, the votes we talk about never take up residence with the candidate, but with the electorate.


As the matters stand it is clear that the candidate in the democratic set-up must need go the 'house of votes' and interact with the occupants (electorate) in the hope that they will yield the votes with them to him.


The blunt truth is that the candidate who wants to win election in a democracy and sees no good reason to meet the electorate is any one of these four things - unserious, mad, anti-democrat or an election rigger.


Now, friends, citizens, fellow countrymen, where is the electorate of the NBA? They are, I trust you know, in the 88 branches of the NBA, scattered all over the surface of the Nigerian Earth.


It is from these 88 branches that you have the delegates who will vote on election day. It is very simple then. Candidates have no choice than to go to these branches to gain their support.


As to the first charge that campaigning nationwide is too expensive, I say being expensive is normal in democracy. Indigent contestants, who have lean financial muscles, have no business in the fray.
The incidences of winning the electorate to the candidate's side to wit, printing manifestoes, printing and posting hand-bills and posters, provisions of transportation, accommodation, security, feeding and sundry incidentals for the campaign train necessarily costs money. So a candidate who does not have funds and cannot raise funds should limit his political ambition within the boundaries of his sitting room.


The second charge that it is too dangerous for candidates to embark on nation-wide tours and campaigns also cannot stick.


So far in the annals of the history of the N.B.A no candidate or his campaign team mates has ever died or been involved in ghastly accidents. And even if this happens, it is nothing strange or unusual, vehicular accidents are one of the sad realities of life. And to those shouting "what of armed robbers and kidnappers?" my answer is "The Lord is my Shepherd" The threats of such are not enough to defer serious candidates from campaigning. By the way must a person be on a campaign tour before he suffers kidnap or robbery or any other evil?


The charge of stress is to me laughable. A democracy that is not stressful, you can be sure is not a living democracy.


Democracy has been famously defined as "Government of the people by the people and for the people.


If you have a weak or weakened bio system, why participate in politics? You must have strength for endless meetings, consultations, visits ' and receptions. Oh yes, democracy is stressful, but you only feel the stress too badly when you do not have the passion and the strength for the game.


When you are a committed democrat you won't call getting out to meet the
electorate you will eventually serve, if elected, stressful. If merely reaching out to the electorate my dear lazy bone candidate is stressful, what will you call serving them?


For me and my team, our campaign to the North to the West, Mid-West and the East was more fun than pain.


Everyday of the campaign was an education, in geography, history, culture, agro-economy, tourism etc.
There were so many beautiful and memorable encounters in our interactions with colleagues in the various branches.


In Akwanga we paid a courtesy visit to the Judge of the High Court. He turned out to be one of principled judges who gave the historic judgement in the case of Mimiko vs Agagu, ensuring peace and progress instead of chaos and frustration in Ondo state.


In Damaturu, I saw the largest collection of tractors ever, may be numbering more than 400. Yet they were just the remainder of the lot given out to farmers in the state.


In Gusau, I had certainly the best fura de nono of my life. This wonderful
quality was only rivalled by the dambu nono and fura de nono of Gombe town. It was in Gombe that I was introduced to dambu nono.


The Gombe nono is so good that the next NEC meeting should hold there and the next in Gusau. In Birinin Kebbi, we learnt that not all that glitters is
gold. The impressive looking hotel we stayed the night, rejoiced in the name "ZINARI" which means gold in Hausa language.


My resolve that I would name my first daughter ever, Zinari, dissolved in the middle of the night when PHCN struck as usual and wicked mosquitoes took over, feasting greedily on us. All through the ordeal the only person who appeared at peace under the bombardment happened to be the only northerner amongst us, inspiring some of us to think that there was perhaps, tribalism even among mosquitoes!


Between Jalingo and Maiduguri, we saw something that almost disproved the biblical parable of the seed sown in a rocky place. Unlike the Biblical seed which germinated poorly, the ones we saw in Biu and its environs sprang lustily up to the sky even though their roots lay below and amidst crags. We are talking of places where the furrows of the ridges are rows
and rows of stones.


And what stones! So heavy were they given their relative sizes that we suspected they contained iron ore. Impressed, I took two samples home, only for my wife to exclaim upon my arrival "after all these days in the North, it is only stone you bring comot!”


On the way to Gombe, I saw for first time a shepherdess driving a herd of cows numbering about thirty.
Another proof that what a man can do a woman can copy! It was also on this journey that I saw for the first time a herd or is it a pack of donkeys about forty strong. Before then I had thought that donkeys were unsociable loners.


From Awka to Onitsha to Agbor to Ugehlli, our reception involved the presentation, 'wedjing' and breaking of kolanuts. Not to talk of wine gifts. Oh, what wonderful hosts our colleagues were.


Face to face, goes the ancient adage, is better than a thousand letters. I agree. By visiting our colleagues in their various bases, we learnt first hand of their challenges, aspirations and requests. Only a few of our hosts appreciated SMS politicians.
Boy, I can't wait for the 2012 political season come. To democrats willing to pay the price, campaigning all over the country is another name for in-
land vacation!