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If
a stranger were to go by the reporting in Nigeria’s dailies on the
run-up to next year’s general election, she might just conclude that
the most important issue facing the country is the ethnic origin of the
next president and that the Peoples Democratic Party is the only party
in country able to provide this individual.

She would not be far from the truth. The national
discourse has indeed revolved around the issues of zoning the
presidency and what the constitution of the PDP says about this
obviously important matter.

Various opposition groups and individuals have,
of course, shouted their indignation about this state of things. They
have pointed out that the Nigerian Constitution does not have any
clause that endorses zoning the presidency and that the PDP is not the
only party capable of producing a candidate for this post. They have
even done more, by helpfully analysing the limitations of the PDP,
which include its inability to make a significant positive impact on
the nation despite the fact that it has been in government since the
return of democracy in 1998.

But very few people have paid attention to these
opposition groups mostly because they are not considered a match for
the behemoth they seek to upstage. To all intents and purposes, the
country resembles a one-party state and a lot more needs to be done by
the opposition to show Nigerians they represent viable alternatives to
the party that prides itself as the largest on the African continent.
Clearly size has not meant an ability to govern effectively.

The first two elections (held in 1998 and 2003)
within this fourth republic were relatively competitive, with two other
parties – the All Nigeria Peoples Party (ANPP) and the Action Congress
(or its earlier incarnation as Alliance for Democracy) – presenting a
bold challenge to the PDP. Why, they even teamed up to present a joint
presidential candidate to challenge the PDP! By the last election in
2007, the PDP had truly become the only giant in a community of dwarfs
and it hasn’t looked back since. The ANPP has hemorrhaged badly as some
of its state governors – in Bauchi and Zamfara – have defected to the
PDP. The Progressive Peoples Alliance has similarly lost its two state
executives and the situation is not different at the national and state
assemblies.

Since 2007, no fewer than 13 senators and 15
members of the House of Representatives have decamped to the PDP –
reducing the meaning of opposition in the National Assembly to little
more than a joke. Of particular interest was an opposition senator from
Anambra State who spent the better part of three years fighting a legal
battle to reclaim his election victory from a PDP usurper. When he
finally made his way into the Senate, the politician promptly dumped
his party for the one that had tormented him for years.

Defection is part of politics – although in some
countries this is punished as a way of helping politicians to put party
loyalty above personal interest. The PDP controlled National Assembly
has refused to do so, apparently content in the belief that it will
always continue to be a beneficiary of the system. But the opposition
parties are also to blame.

Many of them do not promote any ideology beyond
being anti-PDP. They are disorganised, poorly funded and are usually
beholden to an individual. Their members sometimes do not have much
confidence in their lasting capability. But the future of Nigeria’s
democracy and the development of the country depend on their ability to
survive.

It is to be hoped that a cleaner electoral
process will ensure that the big party cannot easily manoeuvre its
members into political office to the detriment of smaller ones. A more
democratically driven process should also empower real politicians and
professionals to move into the smaller parties and strengthen them
enough to contest for and win elections.

If only they knew it; no party stays in power
forever – as countries from Mexico to Uruguay and Japan have shown. The
electorate is bound to search for viable alternatives. But these would
have to be parties that show a real capacity for governing even if only
slightly better than the ruling party. The future belongs to opposition
politicians, but only those of them who have prepared for it. The time
for making those preparations is about now.

The
lights are going out all over America – literally. Colorado Springs has
made headlines with its desperate attempt to save money by turning off
a third of its streetlights, but similar things are either happening or
being contemplated across the nation, from Philadelphia to Fresno.

Meanwhile, a country that once amazed the world
with its visionary investments in transportation, from the Erie Canal
to the Interstate Highway System, is now in the process of unpaving
itself: In a number of states, local governments are breaking up roads
they can no longer afford to maintain, and returning them to gravel.

And a nation that once prized education – that was
among the first to provide basic schooling to all its children – is now
cutting back. Teachers are being laid off; programmes are being
canceled; in Hawaii, the school year itself is being drastically
shortened. And all signs point to even more cuts ahead.

We’re told that we have no choice, that basic
government functions – essential services that have been provided for
generations – are no longer affordable. And it’s true that state and
local governments, hit hard by the recession, are cash-strapped. But
they wouldn’t be quite as cash-strapped if their politicians were
willing to consider at least some tax increases.

And the federal government, which can sell
inflation-protected long-term bonds at an interest rate of only 1.04
percent, isn’t cash-strapped at all. It could and should be offering
aid to local governments, to protect the future of our infrastructure
and our children.

But Washington is providing only a trickle of
help, and even that grudgingly. We must place priority on reducing the
deficit, say Republicans and “centrist” Democrats. And then, virtually
in the next breath, they declare that we must preserve tax cuts for the
very affluent, at a budget cost of $700 billion over the next decade.

In effect, a large part of our political class is
showing its priorities: Given the choice between asking the richest 2
percent or so of Americans to go back to paying the tax rates they paid
during the Clinton-era boom, or allowing the nation’s foundations to
crumble – literally in the case of roads, figuratively in the case of
education – they’re choosing the latter.

It’s a disastrous choice in both the short run and the long run.

In the short run, those state and local cutbacks are a major drag on the economy, perpetuating devastatingly high unemployment.

It’s crucial to keep state and local government in
mind when you hear people ranting about runaway government spending
under President Barack Obama. Yes, the federal government is spending
more,

although not as much as you might think. But state
and local governments are cutting back. And if you add them together,
it turns out that the only big spending increases have been in
safety-net programmes like unemployment insurance, which have soared in
cost thanks to the severity of the slump.

That is, for all the talk of a failed stimulus, if
you look at government spending as a whole you see hardly any stimulus
at all. And with federal spending now trailing off, while big state and
local cutbacks continue, we’re going into reverse.

But isn’t keeping taxes for the affluent low also
a form of stimulus? Not so you’d notice. When we save a schoolteacher’s
job, that unambiguously aids employment; when we give millionaires more
money instead, there’s a good chance that most of that money will just
sit idle.

And what about the economy’s future?

Everything we know about economic growth says that
a well-educated population and high-quality infrastructure are crucial.
Emerging nations are making huge efforts to upgrade their roads, their
ports and their schools. Yet in America we’re going backward.

How did we get to this point? It’s the logical
consequence of three decades of anti-government rhetoric, rhetoric that
has convinced many voters that a dollar collected in taxes is always a
dollar wasted, that the public sector can’t do anything right.

The anti-government campaign has always been
phrased in terms of opposition to waste and fraud – to checks sent to
welfare queens driving Cadillacs, to vast armies of bureaucrats
uselessly pushing paper around. But those were myths, of course; there
was never remotely as much waste and fraud as the right claimed. And
now that the campaign has reached fruition, we’re seeing what was
actually in the firing line: services that everyone except the very
rich need, services that government must provide or nobody will, like
lighted streets, drivable roads and decent schooling for the public as
a whole.

So the end result of the long campaign against
government is that we’ve taken a disastrously wrong turn. America is
now on the unlit, unpaved road to nowhere.

© 2010 New York Times News Service

Who
has heard that one about how parents of newborns name their children in
Calabar? A tin plate is flung against the bare floor at the naming, and
whatever sound it makes is the child’s name. It’s an appalling joke,
but at least it registers the non-indigene’s bewilderment at the
intonations, and tricks on the ear that the Efik and Ibibio languages
play.

I must admit that I
am near giving up on ever successfully speaking either language. But
because I am the glutton that I am, every syllable of every word that
concerns food falls on my ears like the sound of a running stream. This
week it is the turn of Ekoki made from fresh maize or Ukpo Oka as the
Igbo and Anioma call it. My husband calls it a tongue twisting Ekoki
Ibikpot (cue in more infantile jokes about the similarities between
Efik and Chinese).

I think of Ekoki as
the queen of delicacies because it is perfect only at this time of the
year when maize is unambiguously fresh.

It is an
interesting season. Between last week and now, the price of yam has
doubled along with the condescension of market women selling it. Eating
yam is literally like eating gold. One either pays the price or bears
the bitter taste and melting texture of new yam. And perhaps it is only
psychological, but as the mind registers the value of old yam, its
taste significantly improves. It is really sweet, texturally and
otherwise like gold. As a sign of the times, each yam is marked boldly
in the market; identified so that there is no question of whom it
belongs to.

Fresh corn is on
its way out. And with it those women who roast cobs over coals in
basins, in the shade of trees on every street corner. They are not yet
gone and I am already nostalgic. The season has passed all too quickly.

I was given seven
cobs of white maize. It felt reassuring to peel layers and layers of
leaves, and detach the heads of silk to reveal the unique shape of each
ear. I had not done these things since I was a child, and considered it
a chore. It was pure joy to have my senses awakened by the smell of
freshness.

I then
painstakingly pried out each seed, much to the annoyance of members of
my household who passed and observed what they considered wasted
diligence. Someone suggested that I use a knife, another that I use a
grater, which is what was traditionally used in the preparation of
Ekoki. I self-righteously declined. The first would only retrieve half
of the seed, the other too much of the cob. I did not want to waste the
maize, nor did I want the grittiness of the cob. Sore thumbs and the
passage of time were a small price to pay.

I blended my seeds
of maize with water, garlic, ginger, salt, leeks, onion and fresh
pepper. I found that no matter how long I blended the maize, the
consistency remained grainy. The blended maize was so fresh; it looked
and smelled like milk. I must make a note that I did use parts of the
cob, near the head where it was youngest.

To the medley, I
added blended smoked fish and a generous amount of palm oil. This was
no ordinary palm oil. It was the first time in my life, that I had seen
palm oil that resembled red wine. Like the maize, it was a gift from
Ogoja, presented in a small recycled Ragolis water bottle. Unlike the
palm oil that I am used to, the top of the oil was beautifully
transparent; obviously the very first grade of oil which the Yoruba
call “Ogere”. City slickers like myself may never encounter this grade
of oil in their lifetime.

Another revelation
was the moin moin leaves (ewe eran). In Lagos, these leaves are sold to
us with the greatest condescension in the market. There, the market
women make you buy both the small and large leaves as a package. You
are not allowed to pick and choose. Here in Calabar, the leaves are as
broad as you like, and for N50, you have enough to roof a house.

My Ekoki was gently
divided among folded moin moin leaves, deveined fresh prawns added, and
steamed for about 45 minutes in a steamer. In the first five minutes of
cooking, the smell of steaming leaves completely ravaged the house.

Perfectly cooked
Ekoki bounces when tapped with the fingers. It retains its grainy maize
texture. The smoked fish gives it maximum flavour without fishiness.
The prawns, protected from direct heat, yet steamed perfectly add
personality to it. There is no Asian dim sum that can stand in the
presence of my Ekoki.

It is unbearable to think I must wait till next year to eat it again.

She said, she said, and she said; but the real question is what HE did.

More people have
been focused on the trial going on at the Special Court for Sierra
Leone (SCSL) sitting at The Hague this last week all because of the
presence of a beautiful super model called Naomi Campbell and little to
do with the enormity of the crimes for which Mr. Charles Taylor, former
president of Liberia is being tried.

The war that took
place in Sierra Leone for which atrocities the prosecution is trying to
prove Taylor culpable turned that country into a hell hole, truly a
heart of darkness: amputated limbs, child sex slaves, drugged out boy
soldiers, blood chilling brutality.

Ms Campbell lucky
for her inhabits a vastly different world of glamour, designer clothes,
klieg lights and glossy magazines, as far away as you can possibly be
from the amputated survivors of Sierra Leone.

She was apparently
oblivious too to the blood and horror of war torn Liberia, from which
two Nigerian journalists, Krees Imodibie of The Guardian and Tayo
Awotusin from Daily Champion then, never returned alive. They were
killed there, executed, in August 1991, nineteen years ago.

But such is life is
it not? The difference is as wide as that between the raw dirt
encrusted stones and the sparkling luminous end products that grace the
necks and fingers of the rich and celebrated and hang at the bottom of
the prosecution’s case against Taylor. One half of the world is gushing
about the latest designer bags; the other is silently being buried
alive.

You do not even
need to go that far as we well know: in Lagos the difference can be
between the families on one end of a street and another.

Many are familiar
with the effect fashion models have: an instantaneous loosening of the
faculties, a melting sensation that we used to refer to as going gaga.

Their celebrity status is indicative of how facile the values of contemporary society can be.

Ms Campbell has had
remarkable staying power in a profession where careers are notoriously
short, being dependent primarily on youthful beauty and physical
appearance. Hers is a world of fashion, ever changing and yet
perambulating the same circles. Floods in Pakistan, mudslides in China,
but fashion week in New York, Milan and Paris, must stay on schedule.
That collection has to be out and in the shops for work on the next one
to begin. It is business.

To be fair Campbell
and others in her profession have used their status to raise funds for
and bring awareness to the causes that affect the lives of many less
fortunate people around the world. Campbell’s association with the
Nelson Mandela Foundation and her affectionate relationship with Nelson
Mandela, a different kind of melting moment, is a case in point.

The man to whom
Campbell said she handed said diamonds gave them over to the police in
South Africa last week. But spokesperson or campaigner for any long
term cause she is not (nor should she be) and one does not have to go
into her brief flirtation with animal rights organisation PETA (People
for Ethical Treatment of Animals), to see that.

The more disturbing
issue is the investigative competence of the prosecution at the Special
Court for Sierra Leone and why it looks as if they are having a
difficult time getting their case against Taylor together. One would
have thought there would be ample evidence of his alleged atrocities.
So what if he gave Campbell a bag of diamonds in South Africa? How on
earth does that prove that he sold diamonds to procure weapons? So he
brought raw diamonds into South Africa illegally, according to South
African law. What then?

If you were a
beautiful super model, seated next to Nelson Mandela with a wide range
of rich and celebrated men from all corners of the globe, melting at
your feet, why would a dinner table “flirtation” or tête-à-tête with
Charles Taylor, as described by Campbell’s rather dour detractors, be
particularly remarkable, such that you would recall every detail of it
13 years later?

This is a major
case for Nigeria, ECOMOG, and Africa. We give little attention to the
high price we pay just to survive and therefore do not learn the
important lessons for the future. The Naomi Campbell saga has brought
the atrocities and mistakes of the Sierra Leone war back to world
attention, and maybe that is the extent of what we may have gained from
this soap opera.

Our leaders have
trampled over our rights with mind-numbing impunity and bungled their
way through crises at murderous cost to the populace. Setting a
precedent that justice can be done on this continent and that
accountability in governance can begin to count is critical. One hopes
that the SCSL has more serious arsenal in its task to seek justice and
redemption for the victims of the 11 year war in Sierra Leone and help
us to pave the way to avoiding future tragedies.