Igbo identity crisis: The DNA option (2), by Ochereome Nnanna
Since the end of the Biafra War in January 1970, ethnic disunity has wreaked great havoc in the former Eastern Region. In the former Northern Region, the Minorities (especially Christians and non-Muslims) want to be fully accepted by the so-called “Hausa/Fulani” Muslim Majority, who wield overwhelming power. But they (the Minorities) are rebuffed, discriminated against […]
…Now that we know Ethiopia
There is celebration in the land, celebration that was not seen in the first half. A first half that made a mess of all those stupendous predictions by overzealous fans who believed that Ethiopia will be meat for super.
Where Is Our Money?
In a recent media interaction, Governor Emmanuel Uduaghan of Delta State expressed deep concern at the inability of the NNPC to fund the federation account and facilitate payment of monthly allocations to the three tiers of government, especially when crude oil has consistently sold for over $100/barrel in place of the budget benchmark of $79/barrel!
God Is Talking To You (4)
Roberts Liardon was a guest-minister at a church. Suddenly during the service, the Holy Spirit drew his attention to a woman. Then he told him something unusual. He told him to go and slap her. Liardon obeyed. He went to the woman and slapped her. There was a loud gasp in the church as she burst into tears.
What makes a good citizen?
Couple of days ago, the national television station held its yearly national programme, called the PRIDE OF BRITAIN. Here the cream of human kindness at its best were showcased where the ordinary people up and down the country do the most incredible act of heroics to complete strangers, loved ones and colleagues. They were awarded for their selflessness and acts of bravery in the face of adversities.
No, not Tunji Okusanya; he shouldn’t die
Why am I writing a tribute to someone who was unknown to me until May of this year? And when we first met, I discovered that he was just about old enough to be my second child? Yet, in less than six months, I had become so fond of him that when the news of his sudden death in the Associated Airline crash reached me at Ibadan, my regular refuge from the chaotic life in Lagos, tears came tumbling out of my eyes uncontrollably for hours – as if he was my son. In reality, right from our first conversation on the phone, which started with him calling, he always called me “Daddy”. Even, when I told him that “Uncle will be more appropriate”, he had replied, “Sir, you are like a Daddy to a lot of us educated young ones around Campus Square. We are proud that you are one of our own; and we read you every Sunday religiously”.
