One year of what?

National Youth service?
To me, the whole thing is a joke. Employers of Labour either see you as slave labour or not useful enough to handle any real responsibilities. And the pay? Terrible. A few are lucky; but the greater percentage of corps members are not. Some organizations have taken advantage of the scheme to save costs. How? They have a consistent turn over of corpers every year, hardly retaining any after working them to the bone.
The scheme itself isn't left out. They often times don't pay allowances for apparently no reason. When you make a complaint they go right ahead and credit your account. They look for even more flimsy excuses to give service extensions. What about the NYSC local government officials? They have become demi-gods in their various local governments making life as miserable for corps members as possible. If you ask my opinion, the whole scheme is a complete waste of time. And it gets even more annoying when you consider the fact that every organization wants to see an NYSC discharge certificate. Their argument? It's supposed to foster national unity and make us better youths. I can say with confidence that it hasn't done that.
I could be bolder still and say that those that graduated before 1973 are a much better generation than we've had since then.
My thoughts.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010 at 12:00pm

WOMAN!

Woman in her weakness,is yet the strongest force upon the earth.
She is the helm of all things human;she comes in many shapes and knocks at many doors.
She is quick and patient,and her passion is not ungovernable like that of man,but as a gentle steed that she can guide even where she will,
and as occasion offers can now bit up and now give rein.
She has a captain's eye,and stout must be that fortress of the heart in which she finds no place of vantage.
Does thy blood beat fast in youth,she will outrun it.
Nor will her kisses tire.
Art thou set towards ambition?
She will unlock thy inner heart and show thee roads that lead to glory.
Art thou worn and weary?
She has comfort in her bossom.
Art thou fallen?
She can lift thee up and to the illusion of thy sense gild defeat with triumph. Aye,she can do these things for nature ever fights upon her side; and while she does them,she can deceive and shape a secret end in which thou hast no part.
And thus woman rules the world.
For her are wars,
for her,men spend their strenght in gathering gains; for her,they do well and ill;and seek for greatness,only to find oblivion.
But still she sits like yonder sphinx and smiles
and no man has ever read all the riddle of her smile,or known all the mystery of her heart.
He must be great indeed who can defy the power of woman,which pressing around him like the invisible air is often strongest when the senses least discover it.

Sunday, May 3, 2009 at 6:28pm

I was not there...

I was not there when he passed away. And it hurt. He had been undergoing chemotherapy for the cancer which had spread through most of his chest.
It had started with him losing his job at the embassy. That was when he started drinking and smoking. He always used to say it was a way to forget his pain and vent his frustration. Then he got an even better job, and the substance abuse did not stop. We begged, we prayed, we cajoled, but nothing.
He wouldn’t quit no matter what we said. So we learnt to live with it.
Six months ago, he had come home at about 5pm, which was strange. He got off work at 4pm and usually didn’t get home till 10pm or thereabout. From the way he looked, we immediately knew something was wrong. My mum and I were the only ones at home and immediately he saw her, he burst into tears.
‘’I have cancer’’, he said, his voice trembling, ‘’and the doctors say I have just nine months to live.’’
Immediately my mum heard those words, she broke down too. The first thought that came to my head was that it served him right. After all it was no one’s fault.
Six months later, it began to dawn on me that he would soon be dead; if the doctors got their prediction right, that is. And I realized that despite all he had done, and all he had put us through, this was a man I called ‘dad’, a man who had taken me for walks in the park right from when I was in my pram till the point where things went awry just a few years before. I remembered the look of love I used to see in his eyes. Then it struck me that despite his short comings I was going to miss him. I think that was the point at which I forgave him.
A month later, I had to go to camp for my National youth service. It was in my second week there that my mum had called and broken the news to me. The doctors had been wrong after all. They had missed their prediction by a month and a half.