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Point of Order

Memories of the Big Boss

As the year gradually inches to a close – we barely have six weeks left in 2016 – I am thinking of the friends I’ve lost this year, Ken Saro-Wiwa being one of them.

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Vacancies without violence

The New Year, 2011, is two days old and the many resolutions of many are not likely to be crumbling this soon. But, because this year seems to be one of promise, in spite of the seething darkness trying to undermine what we have all anchored a volition for, we should tackle the bad in us for the good to emerge.

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One birthday & a funeral

It is Christmas again! It is my favourite time of the year – when the languid air smells of good fare: the sharing of goodwill; the visit of friends and family; the return of migrants from various corners of the earth; the salute to the belly by all forms of gormandizing acts – the sheer sense of completion of another cycle of life and of the seasons. All these amplify the significance of this time of the year.

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Death of our guinea pig

We lost our national guinea pig, Chief Anthony Eromosele Enahoro, to the cruel hands of death last week, at age 87. He did not die in America or England or India. He died in a hospital in Benin City, a lover of his ungrateful country unto death. In the Sunday Vanguard of June 11, 2000, I wrote a piece on The National Guinea Pig.

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The two sides of Nigeria

I was in Edo State for most of last week. I had read a lot about what Governor Adams Oshiomhole was supposed to be doing in the state; also the many write-ups of the erstwhile ruling PDP that the man has been planting flowers, digging up streets and abandoning them and borrowing money that was not being accounted for. Seeing, they say, is believing.

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Eating the future today

The body language of our people cannot be fully relayed in words. When they tell you something you ought to have done and you fail or refuse to do it and the come later comes to become, they look you in the face, put both hands on their faces with two fingers ready to produce a message, run the fingers from under the eyes to the chin. Some times they will mouth the invective “iyo” (pronounced i-yaw). No other sound follows, but the message is clear.

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Who is misdirecting Waziri?

People ask me if what we, as columnists, say is ever read by those they affect. My answer has always been that, in a division of labour setting, ours is to show the way and leave the decision to follow the way to those who so choose. We can’t force anyone, but whenever things later go bad, in spite of our shouting and yelling, we go back in time and point to what we said that may have been ignored.

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First of many calls

Someone called me at noon on Tuesday October 12. He told me his name which I first thought was a title. After he had lectured me for the better part of 15 minutes on the Niger Delta and the distraction the bombs of October 1 seem to be causing, and after I had wanted to explain a point or two but he would not let me, insisting that as someone who writes for people to know what is happening, I had to listen to him, I told him no one imposes their views on me.

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