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Social media does
not provide the kind of social ties that social change requires argues
New York Times best-selling author, Malcolm Gladwell in his October
2010 piece for the New Yorker titled, “Small Change: Why the Revolution
will not be tweeted.”

According to him,
the kind of activism associated with social media websites such as
Facebook and Twitter is built around weak ties; allowing people to
“friend,” “like” or “follow” acquaintances that they might not be able
to connect with or stay in touch with. To him, these sort of weak ties
seldom lead to high risk activism. They also seldom lead to high impact
activism, he argues.

Activists the world
over are mad and are calling his argument mindless hogwash from an
intellectual who does not even own a Facebook or Twitter account. I
agree with them. Though I have profound respect for Gladwell and some
of the seminal ideas he has contributed to the world, unfortunately,
this time, I think he misses the point.

The most frequently
used argument against social media activism by critics such as Gladwell
is that it is all noise, no action. In fact some writers now
derogatorily call any form of mobilisation that uses social media –
“clicktivism” or “slacktivism.”

“Clicktivism” or
“slacktivism” they say, is a form of activism that reduces action by
creating the illusion of doing something. For instance, by “liking” a
Facebook page or tweeting a Twitter hash tag, participating individuals
are deluded into thinking that they are effecting change when they in
actual fact are not.

Of course, such
criticism is valid. Any social movement wishing to make impact on the
ground that exists solely on the pages of Facebook and Twitter should
not be taken seriously. However, any movement that uses the power of
social media to mobilise people to effect change offline is one that
should definitely not be overlooked.

The problem with
Gladwell and others who critique the power of social media is that they
confuse bad activism with the use of social media tools. It is bad
activism to encourage people to “like” a Facebook page or tweet a
Twitter hashtag without translating the online participation to on the
ground change. What should be criticized are “slacktivists” – social
media activists that mobilise people online and keep them there without
connecting participants with opportunities to effect grass root change.
Sadly, in this new age of viral media, the world has many
“slacktivists” and this is the true problem, not social media.

Often times, social
media activists do not define the goals of their movements
appropriately. Many Facebook pages for instance are organised around
the idea of gathering people online and sharing links and information
with them. While this is perfectly valid if the goal is solely to equip
people with information, if the goal is to organise people to act in
the real world, creating a Facebook page is often not sufficient. It
should be viewed instead as the first step to getting people to act.
For instance, if the goal is to solve a given national problem, then
sharing links, comments and opinions online is merely a first step. At
some point a face to face meet-up should be set up where concrete
actions and project plans can be drawn out and discussed for
implementation. Afterwards, subsequent follow up meet-ups should be
organised until the goal is achieved.

Sadly, very few social media movements make the transition into this important phase.

An oft used example
of effective social media activism is Barack Obama’s 2008 presidential
campaign. President Obama’s campaign was successful not simply because
he was able to garner so many Facebook likes, but because he was able
to channel his social media support base to make donations. These
donations were then used to buy out large advertisement spots in the
media thus helping him strengthen his campaign in the real world. But
he did not stop there. He gave his supporters the tools and directives
that enabled them organise their own offline Barack Obama meet ups and
fundraisers. This helped him use his online support base to build a
powerful offline grass root movement.

Another good
example is a 2008 protest organised by a young Colombian engineer,
Oscar Morales. Morales used Facebook to launch a massive protest
comprising millions of Colombians to march in 27 cities throughout the
country. For a country like Colombia, which had no history of mass
demonstrations, this was unprecedented and phenomenal.

I implore all
Nigerian social media activists who wish to implement real world change
to make the important transition from online mobilisation to offline
implementation if they haven’t started doing so. The latter is the
harder but most important phase. It lacks the buzz and the flash of the
former, but without it, all that has occurred is
clicktivism/slacktivism/noise. Social media can change reality. It just
has to be used effectively.

To Malcolm Gladwell, you miss the point this time. Stop blaming the messenger (social media). Blame the message.

At the beginning of
the year the Federal Government announced the closure of primary and
secondary schools nationwide to enable the Independent National
Electoral Commission make use of their premises for the voters
registration exercise.

That in itself was
a dubious decision, rightly condemned by all well-meaning Nigerians. It
shows Nigeria up for what it is, one of those for which the adjective,
“Orwellian” (associated with the novel, ‘Nineteen Eighty-Four’),
appears to have been created. In such societies government appears to
exist primarily for the purpose of oppressing citizens and restricting
freedom – in this case the rights of children to a decent education.

None of the
protests moved the government, it went ahead to enforce its decision.
And so the schools were shut, and the students, who, like the rest of
the citizenry, are often to be found bearing the brunt of clueless
political leadership, are at home.

But that is not all there is to the story.

We have to turn to
George Orwell again, to make sense of this. This time it is his novel
‘Animal Farm’, whose very famous premise is that “all animals are
equal, but some are more equal than others.” (And nowhere is that truer
than in the Nigerian context. Petty thieves are asked to go directly to
jail, while the thieving elite are allowed to serve out their sentences
in private hospitals).

That Orwellian
‘equality’ ended up being applied to the government directive on school
closure. In a country of discretionary “waivers”, one more was not
going to be a big deal. All schools are equal, yes, but some are more
equal than others.

One of those more
equal schools is The American International School, Abuja. Last week we
reported that the school, which appears to have links to the American
Embassy in Nigeria, and “which counts among its pupils and students
children of prominent senators, ministers, governors, and even the
president – resumed on January 10 and has remained open ever since,
running a normal school programme.”

Right under the
nose of the authorities in Abuja, the American International School
decided to defy a government directive. It is hard to know what their
defence would have been – perhaps they assumed the diplomatic
affiliation earned them some immunity of sorts. Or perhaps they
concluded (rightly in this case, we must admit) that the American
system of education they run does not permit such a closure on the
basis of a voters registration process.

However, after our
exclusive story on this defiance of the government order, the situation
changed. And so, two days after our initial story, we reported that
“the school’s website [announced] the closure of the school yesterday
in a message posted by Amy Uzoewulu, the director: ‘In compliance with
the Nigerian Government’s directive, AISA will reopen for preschool
through Grade 8 on Tuesday, February 1, 2011.’

A teacher in the
school later told our reporter: “Go and read NEXT newspaper of
yesterday (Tuesday edition) and you will know why we have to close.”

So, finally, the
President’s children are at home, like all other children. That is the
proper thing. If government officials insist on permitting mindless
decisions then they should not be allowed to exempt their kin.
Hopefully in future we will find a way to prevent our leaders from
sending their children to school abroad while our universities languish
beneath the burden of strikes and empty laboratories

The successful
closure of the government-defying American International School
notwithstanding, the real tragedy still remains – that Nigeria’s
schools will remain closed for another three weeks because of an
electoral process that has in the past only succeeded in producing
politicians who have never had anything of value to contribute to the
future of these children.

Phew! Yes, you can
exhale now, anti-climax or not! In one fell swoop, the former Governor
of Lagos State, ASIWAJU Bola Tinubu, spoilt months of ‘sweet’ future
gist which would have thrived, whether true or not, on how or why the
party did not give the Governor of Lagos State a second term ticket.
“… by the power conferred on me by the ACN, and following
consultations with the leaders and members of the party, I wish, on
their behalf, to announce the final endorsement for re-election of
Governor Babatunde Fashola”, said the Leader of the Action Congress of
Nigeria [ACN], Bola Ahmed Tinubu. Date was Wednesday January 5, 2011;
Venue was the Lagos State Party secretariat in Ikeja; in attendance
were leaders of the party, Federal and State Legislators of the ACN,
Local Government officials, and members of the State Executive Council,
women and youths. The jubilation and applause was spontaneous; fans of
FASH, who have been waiting to exhale, can finally do so! Imagine
spoiling a serious gist that’s guaranteed to sell any paper,

Just like that! The
story made for good reading anytime. Don’t forget: this is a country
that thrives on gist. And we love our gist to come with a little dose
of the truth/reality, no matter how tiny [less than 1% suffices]. This
means that once you know someone who lives in the same house with
FASH’s neighbour’s cousin’s in-law’s driver, everyone will believe you!
Add to that, a semblance of signs that you are ‘doing well’, [everyone
will assume it’s obviously as a result of your seeming connection],
then you will always be summoned by people to come and share the latest
gist on the alleged face-off. Of course, to maintain your relevance,
you shall not give the impression that you are nobody and do not know
gist emanating from FASH’s inner caucus, will you? So, you let rip, any
which way! “Do you know ASIWAJU stormed out of a meeting where
prominent Elders of the State gathered to ‘beg’ him to please let FASH
go for a second term?” While the neighbours are still digesting that,
you go for the kill, adding for maximum effect: “Dem say e dey jealous
say the Governor Don too work, sotay e wan spoil ASIWAJU record, with
all this award wey e dey carry up and down”.

Guess what? We all
lapped it up; we were always looking out for those little tell-tale
signs confirming that all was indeed not well. The two were actors in a
movie they could not remember agreeing to participate in. Damned if
they did; Damned if they didn’t! ASIWAJU does not attend FASH’s
birthday? Ah-Haa, the rift is real! They turn up hand-in-hand,
together, in the same fabric, sewn in the same style, or any event? We
wrinkle our noses at their attempt to hoodwink us into thinking they
are cool together! Or FASH must have laid ambush for the man: “as soon
as ASIWAJU came down from his car, FASH jumped and muscled in to start
walking beside him; you know ASIWAJU now, he didn’t want to embarrass
the boy by walking away”. They appeared together with the Chairman of
their party and said all was well? Who listened? Who cared? Of what
value was that denial? The gist was not in there not being a fight; the
gist was in there being a fight! And the gist was sweeter if only in
the purported fight continuing until about this time when FASH is
finally not given the party ticket.

We would never have
stopped talking about how the ACN shot itself in the foot by
‘wickeding’ FASH. “No mind those AC people; u no say FASH no be
politician”. Was it conceivable that the party would have denied the
Governor the ticket? Truly speaking? This, a Governor adjudged by
everyone, including Governors of rival parties, as the best performing
Governor in the country? In fact, some had wanted the Governor to
decamp to another party because he is the brand that the people will
vote for. In other words, any party he joined would be sure to win.

Many wondered why,
in the face of seeming disrespect from a reportedly unappreciative
party hierarchy, the Governor opted to remain within. Now, you know!
You may say the loss of Ikorodu, if only for a few months, brought
about a change of heart, but then is anyone admitting that any heart
changed, at all? Whatever! What is not in doubt is that FASH has got
his swagger back. But is the ACN’s endorsement too little, too late?

My 2011 starts the way 2010 began: wondering where my seven-year-old son is and mourning our enforced separation. In a nutshell, no change in a painful situation as his father continues to deny me custody of and access to our son.

One divorce and a re-marriage later came June 26, 2009, a date I will never forget. As I prepared to board the plane to take us to Boston for me to start a Masters program, my son was pulled from my arms and for twelve months I could not see him and had very limited access.

When I returned to Nigeria, I expected to be able to take my son home where he belongs, but for some reason, it makes sense to his father that our son is raised not by his parents but by a paternal uncle and his wife.

When my son was taken from me, my identity as a mother was brutalised and my belief in God and society shaken to its core. I waited for the heavens to fall for this injustice. Nothing. I waited for the clarion call of angels who guard the hearts of mothers. Silence. It took me close to a year of agonized pondering to understand why. We have a saying in Islam: whoever sees something wrong should change it with their hand; if not, then with their tongue; and if not, then with their heart. If I’m honest, I had done none of these things when I saw injustice around me. Like most Nigerians, I did not speak. And now there was no one to speak for me.

How does a society which worships parenthood separate babies from their mothers for no just cause? Why do men use children to punish or hold on to women? And what is it about our culture that makes it so easy to ignore and ill treat children and young people?

When inexplicable things happen you look for answers and explanations the same way you look for missing keys: under the table, between the cracks of chairs, in jacket pockets…everywhere and anywhere. I found to my surprise that what has happened to me happens every day. Women comfort and oppress me in turn; telling me ‘this is a man’s world’, ‘stay in your corner and pray’ and ‘your son will find you when he grows up’.

In Nigeria – I am a woman first before I am anything else. I am expected to be a certain way, and have certain expectations and to know my place. Then, I am in the same position as the average man. Not crowned by ill-gotten wealth nor cloaked by the power of ill-used public office and so like most Nigerians, the system is not supposed to work for me. I am told God is my only hope; my sword and my shield. I smile through my tears; how easily we forget that God works in mysterious ways. I think of a Hadith which says in response to a question put to Prophet Muhammad PBUH about whether a camel owner should tether his camel or trust in God, Prophet Muhammad answered ‘ tie your camel and trust in God’.

I decided to tie my camel and take a different route; I filed a lawsuit.

Most of the sisters in sorrow I have met on this journey or whose stories have crossed mine, have taken the path of least resistance. One weeps outside the gates of the house and school where her four daughters are being kept from her. Another waited 4,380 days (the time it takes the earth to go round the sun 12 times) for the son she last saw when he was 3 to find her. And others stare at their adult children, now near strangers, with unfamiliar traits. On all sides there is pain.

It is for these women and their children, our children, that I share my story, because my story like theirs is not unique. However, what makes our stories different is how we choose to interpret them and use them to empower not only ourselves but those around us.

Gradually my thoughts stopped leading me to unanswerable questions outside the realm of my influence and I found myself wondering: what am I supposed to learn from this experience? How are other mothers like me coping, what are the children thinking and what can I do to help?

There is no poem, no picture, no perfume on earth that captures the depth and tenderness of a mother’s love. It is this tenderness that I hear keeps Death at bay when a mother is near. It is said that Death waits patiently for that second when a mother’s eyes are averted from the face of her child before taking the life of that child away. But humans have no such sensibilities and so openly and with impunity they tear children away from mothers and damage our collective psyche.

We tell ourselves that the decay in our society is because we have lost our values and followed the western world. The truth is we have lost the best of our ways and adopted only the worst from outside. We have traded the strength of the Aba women and the governance of Hausa Queens for western consumerism. We continue to buy machines we cannot make or fix and continue to treat children as chattel, while ignoring the science of psychology. In the West the young have a voice, they thrive and innovate, ours use drugs in the north to escape a bleak future and in the south, use arms to rage against inequity and to join the band of greed. The latest shared iniquity – the defilement of a young girl by policemen in Kano, might not have happened if this child lived with her mother and had not had to ‘travel’ to visit her. How many of our children are put at risk daily for reasons which dissolve under scrutiny?

As I continue on my path, I wish mothers like me would realize that what makes our stories powerful is how we can take what we have learned from our experiences to deal with our narratives from yesterday, the questions that haunt us today and our dreams for tomorrow.

My dream for tomorrow is that in a country where apathy, masked as piety and nobility, has risen to an art form, we each see something wrong and change it with our hands or our tongues or at the very least with our hearts.

Ayisha Osori is a writer and lawyer. She invites
all mothers and children who have experienced forced separations due to
divorce, death etc. to share their stories at aosori@yahoo.com

Reports of the recent presidential primaries of
the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) have largely been based on
television footage of the exercise. Any deep political observers do
know, however, that the outcome of the presidential primaries or any
primaries at all is determined by events that are never captured by
television cameras. The PDP convention is no exception.

Atiku Abubakar had delivered a fiery speech
targeted at selling himself and unsell the candidacy of Goodluck
Jonathan. In his own speech, Jonathan spoke more about what he would do
if elected, with occasional jibes at his main rival. Serah Jibril’s
speech did not receive much attention because she was never considered
a major contestant in the election.

In the morning of the convention, there was
controversy around the format to be adopted for the exercise. The
election panel led by Professor Tunde Adeniran had adopted the
identification of states on the ballot boxes. The Atiku Campaign
opposed this, arguing that the format will intimidate the delegates
from freely expressing their choice among the candidates. Their
argument was that state governors who are standing election for a
second term will not allow the defeat of President Jonathan in their
states otherwise; he might use his position as President to work
against their election in April.

Another argument of the Atiku Campaign is that in
an environment where agencies like the EFCC is used by the incumbent
government to fight political battles, every governor will work for the
victory of Jonathan in their states. Finally, it was argued that since
Chief Tony Anenih, a Jonathan promoter, had threatened that any
delegate who voted for Atiku in the South-South would be fished out,
tagging the ballot boxes with the names of the states will frighten
delegates from freely expressing their choice. The Jonathan camp was
reportedly averse to these arguments. In spite of hours of debate, the
election panel went ahead to tag the ballot boxes with the names of
states.

Another bone of contention in the weeks ahead of
the election was the list of delegates. The Atiku Campaign and the
National Secretariat of the PDP were engaged in a battle of wits over
this. Three weeks to the election, the Atiku Campaign addressed the
media in which it alerted that the ground rules for the election had
not been released. It also requested that the list of delegates should
be made available to all campaign organizations.

There were crises over the accreditation of
delegates. The tags for delegates were handed over to state governors.
The governors, in turn chose which delegates to accredit for the
election. In most of the states, delegates identified as being
sympathetic to Atiku were denied accreditation. The states in this
category included Adamawa where most members of the State House of
Assembly who were sympathetic to Atiku were denied accreditation. The
others include Ogun State where members of G15, members of the state
legislature estranged from Governor Gbenga Daniel and who had openly
supported Atiku were denied accreditation by the governor. The same was
reported by delegates in Akwa Ibom, Cross River,Jigawa, Gombe, Kwara,
Oyo, Benue, Kogi, Nasarawa and Plateau states. In those states, the
delegate’s tags meant for these delegates were reportedly given to
other persons who claimed to be the delegates.

Perhaps, the most popular television footage of
the primaries was that of the Minister of Youths, Senator Olasunkanmi
Akinlabi, who stood at the polling booth directing delegates from Osun
State on who they should vote for. As the delegates walked into the
booth, he checked as they wrote on the ballot, sometimes pointedly
instructing them on what to write. This went on for several minutes
before he was confronted by officials of the Atiku Campaign
Organization. The same experience was replicated in Ondo, Ekiti, Oyo,
Kwara, Gombe, Adamawa, Anambra, Cross-Rivers and Benue State among
others where identified officials supervised delegates to vote for
President Jonathan.

The Election Panel was flooded with complaints but
its ability to contain many of these practices had been put in question
for several days by the Atiku Campaign Organization. The committee was
populated by supporters of President Jonathan. Its chairman, Prof.
Tunde Adeniran, the Chairman of Universal Basic Education (UBEC), is a
member of the South-West Coordination Committee for the Jonathan /Sambo
Campaign Organization.

These aspects of the convention were compounded by
the now open story of the offer of $7,000 to each of the 3,500
delegates by President Jonathan’s men to “defray” their transport cost
to Abuja.

The conduct of the PDP primaries may just be a rehearsal for how Jonathan will conduct the April presidential elections.

Mr. Ofodile wrote in from Abuja.

It is Friday, Jan.
14, in downtown Tunis. In the streets, we shout “No!” – a million
tongues together against the dictatorial, 23-year-long government of
President Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali. Tear gas, bullets and death fly
above us. We are ambushed at the Barcelona metro station, one of the
city’s main transit hubs, and attacked with tear gas. I cover myself
with a black scarf as I run toward Bourguiba Avenue, which tourists
call the Tunisian Champs-Elysees. There, we are met with sticks and
rifles.

Counting our every
breath, we dodge bullets for many more blocks until we run into a wall
of police officers in civilian clothing. They order us brusquely into a
nearby metro station, pile us into trains and take up positions at each
end.

An old man near me
who had left his home to buy bread and got caught up in the
demonstration is gasping. I tear my scarf in two and give him half. I
would love to ask him what he thinks of the protests against the
government, but everyone is struggling against the tear gas.

That night, the
militias come out. In my apartment building, we hear bullets ringing
overhead. My wife is shaking. Word of raids and rapes has begun to be
broadcast on the radio and on the streets. She asks me, as she looks at
our 18-month-old son, Haroun, playing and laughing to himself: “What
will we do if they attack us? Please don’t defend me; take care of
Haroun.” I go out to see if our neighbours and I can take shifts
standing guard outside our building. I take a small kitchen knife and a
metal rod. I ring my neighbours’ bell. No answer; either they’re not at
home or they are panicked. I shout from the bottom of the building’s
staircase, “Neighbours, get down and let us prepare ourselves!” No
answer.

I return to our
apartment. My wife says, “No one’s there, of course.” I try to calm her
down, but Haroun is a rambunctious child and we can’t explain a state
of emergency to him. My brother, who is in the Tunisian Army, phones
and asks me how we are doing, telling me that his wife is also besieged
in the area where he is posted. My brother fails to reassure us.

Tunisian television
is making me nervous. Another politician is announcing, slowly, that he
is taking power, and he interrupts himself, saying: “By God Almighty,
protect yourselves.” A civilized nation is announcing its independence
from keeping the peace.

I can’t stay here
and keep looking my wife in the eye; I’m panicking too. So I grab an
ax, and kiss my wife on her forehead. I take my place on the building’s
steps, intoning, “either kill or be killed.” The night plods along,
heavy, murderous.

I hear that the
militias are driving around in requisitioned ambulances. They are
transforming the vehicles from carriers of mercy to carriers of death.
The country has suddenly become the setting for a Hollywood gangster
movie, its peaceful, enlightened people the extras.

Shots ring out, and
I hide behind a wall. The sounds of an army helicopter come from far
away. I slip back into my apartment to see my wife’s petrified,
questioning face. Haroun is dancing joyfully.

I try to reassure her, telling her that I am all right and that the army is protecting us with its helicopters.

I go back out to my
sentry post and decide to take refuge in the Quran. But I forget the
opening section, the Fatiha, with its prayers for God’s guidance; I
stumble over the lines, jumbling their order. I think of writing, and
feel for my pencil in my coat pocket.

Suddenly, bullets
ricochet all around me. I flatten myself on the ground. I wait to hear
the helicopter again before I return inside to reassure my family and
recharge my energy with Haroun’s enthusiasm.

On Saturday morning
we venture into the street to find our neighbourhood filled with
unfamiliar faces. The shopping centre near my home has been looted. I
go with my wife and son to a relative’s house to coordinate our
neighbourhood security.

With sticks and
stones, we take control of the neighbourhood. We spend that night
shooing away strangers and strange cars. In the morning we roam the
city looking for bread and milk for our children. There is no milk to
be found. Gradually, city residents become used to the state of
emergency and the curfew, and begin to enjoy the free time they now
have, especially since they are able to speak freely, able to openly
curse and ridicule Ben Ali and his corrupt family.

On Monday we are
told that a new “unity” government has formed. When Tunisians see that
some members of the old regime have been named to cabinet posts, there
is a new wave of disturbances, and people start saying that the
revolution has been stolen from them.

On Tuesday, young
people again take to the streets, demanding the dissolution of Ben
Ali’s party, the Democratic Constitutional Rally party, which has ruled
Tunisia since independence in 1956. Others argue that this risks being
a repeat of the purges of members of Saddam Hussein’s Baath party in
Iraq, which contributed to the insurgency there. While I agree that it
may be impossible to dissolve the party without sending the country
into chaos, I think we have no choice but to try.

There are also
demonstrations at the offices of the largest opposition group over its
complicity with the old regime in the new government. By the end of the
day at least five ministers have stepped down, and nobody knows what
will come next.

As for myself, I
feel an overwhelming happiness that I will now be able to write freely.
A year and a half ago, one of my novels, which describes life under
oppression, was performed as a play at a cultural centre here. The
police monitored those of us involved constantly; none of the
journalists in attendance wrote reviews.

That is why I
support the revolution and, like so many of the young people, worry
that it will be stolen from us by the traitors, thieves and killers who
have ruled us for far too long.

Kamel Riahi is a novelist.

© 2011 The New York Times

I doubt if former
vice president, Atiku Abubakar, aspirant for the presidential ticket of
the ruling Peoples Democratic Party, had quite last week’s events in
Tunisia in mind when he quoted the warning that “those who make
peaceful change impossible make violent change inevitable”. But the
Tunisian revolution arrived nevertheless, in neat counterpoint to the
decision by delegates at the PDP convention in Abuja on the 13th of
this month that (at least as far as their presidential ticket went)
their hope was that the result of the April elections would be no
change at the top.

Not, it must be
emphasized, because change was made impossible, simply – apparently –
that it was deemed undesirable. The two events; one a national
catharsis played out before an international audience, the other, a
personal tragedy of only (and instantly limited) national concern,
suggest – particularly considering the calm with which his defeat was
greeted – that the unfortunate reality for Atiku is that for ‘the
people’, real change is about something rather more significant than
the settling of the precedence between the flea and the louse.

As might be
expected, Tunisia galvanised the Middle East commentariat, while
copycat self-immolation events attempting to replicate the alleged
trigger of the Tunisian revolution, although they failed to achieve
traction, certainly highlighted the festering despair of so much of
Arab youth, trapped in systems which offer little or no avenue for
peaceful change.

It had long been
Israel’s boast that it was the only democracy in the Middle East, and
its Arab neighbours could point to little in riposte, particularly
given their lukewarm to non-existent support for the democracy in
Palestine which expressed itself in an electoral preference for Hamas,
and Arab governments’ collusive acquiescence the sanctions and
restrictions imposed by the United States of America and the European
Union that stifled the Hamas-led government that was democratically
elected in 2006.

With only post-war
Iraq left to tout democratic credentials, the monarchies and
quasi-monarchies (presidents-for-life-then-my-son) of the Arab world
might all seem vulnerable to the same kind of upheaval that saw
President Ben Ali chased out of Tunisia by his angry subjects.

Of course they are
not all the same. Some Arab governments are very much alert to the need
for reform and keeping alive the hope that change remains possible.
Indeed, the establishment of the Arab Democracy Foundation in Qatar
would appear to be direct recognition of the need to get out ahead of
the yearnings of the people.

Naturally,
oil-rich, low population states like Qatar may have more leeway and
more time for reform than resource-poor, high population countries like
Tunisia but apart from the head-in-the-sand panicked condemnation of
Tunisians by the Brotherly Leader in Tripoli, still convinced that
(after 40 years) he IS the revolution, the urgent question for Arab
leaders is no longer simply how to contain or suppress yearnings for
change, but how to give expression to them.

Here at home, we
have already decided how we will make change possible: democratic
elections. Meaning firstly, elections which reflect the choices
actually made by the people, and secondly, the aspiration that one day
our collective choices will be about ourselves and what we want from
our government, rather than selecting which flavour of crumb we might
graciously be allowed to gather under the table where our political
warlords are sharing the national cake.

Perhaps that is a
long term aspiration, particularly when the said warlords seem so
determined to prevent the realisation of even the basic requirement of
an accurate count. Witness, for example, how swiftly calls started
coming for the Independent National Electoral Commission to scrap
electronic registration of voters by direct data capture. Who does not
know that political fixers are already registering as many of their
supporters as many times as possible? They are confident that contrary
to INEC’s assurances, multiple registration of voters will not be
detected, and that multiple registrants will not only be able to vote
on Election Day, but that they will either be able to vote as any times
as they like, or to have several otherwise ineligible persons vote on
their behalf.

After all, they
reason, is not exclusion and prosecution of multiple registrants what
Maurice Iwu threatened last time in 2007? And in the end, was it not
the dummies (writer included) who believed him who ended up looking
like fools?

Having registered
with little problem, said writer continues to hope that attempts to
sabotage, crash or overwhelm the present DDC voter registration will
fail. Actually, rather than give in to pressure to abandon electronic
voter registration, what is needed from INEC (as well obviously, as
upping its game) and as soon as possible, while the exercise is still
taking place – is a few (or a lot of) well-publicised cases of detected
double registration and speedy retribution for offenders, starting with
the penalty of exclusion from the register of voters.

On the other hand,
if INEC is in fact unable to detect multiple registrations, we might as
well know now. Then we will understand that some people still think it
is smart to make peaceful change, through democratic elections,
impossible. We can decide how long we are going to allow those idiots
to be right about taking us for fools who have no alternative.

Over the past week, the only issue in Nigeria has
been voter registration. The celebrated arrival of the direct data
capture machines did not translate into a smooth take off of the voter
registration process. The problems have been extensively discussed. The
training of the registration officers was insufficient and many of them
simply did not know how to use the equipment. Software glitches cropped
up with the finger print scanner and the printers in some cases did not
work.

With our legendary inventiveness, some Nigerians
have been seeking short cuts and ridiculous solutions. Some
registration officers are reported to have photographed the fingers
when they could not get the scanners to work, while others have been
wiping people’s fingers with various chemicals to remove possible
contaminants that were “annoying” the scanners. In the process, some
scanners have been ruined. Many people have actually been registered
and given cards without their fingers being scanned which makes their
registration illegal, null and void.

In many instances, the solutions were perfectly
straightforward. In some cases, the plastic seals on the finger print
scanners had not been removed, so naturally, the machines could not
read what was placed on them. In other cases, INEC staff had not
updated the software to resolve the known problem about “tropicalising”
the machines.

The result is that the there has been considerable
delay in the registration process. As we approach the end of the week,
I myself have been unable to register in spite of the fact that I have
been engaged in advocacy campaigns for every eligible Nigerian to come
out and register. My problem is that the area where I live in Abuja –
Sun City to the mechanics village area is newly built and did not exist
during the previous registration exercise. No DDC machines have been
programmed for such areas and it is a serious problem in many parts of
the Federal Capital city and other urban agglomerations.

However, along with many of my neighbours, I
continue to spend long hours at the nearest village with a DDC machine
determined to register so that we all can exercise our franchise. It is
imperative that INEC extend the registration period by at least two
weeks so that we can all partake in the exciting process of the
forthcoming credible elections that are being planned. I am aware that
there are legal difficulties to surmount to have the extension but the
registration is simply too important a process and we can find
solutions if we search for them. My reading of the situation is
positive. Nigerians are agonizing over the hitches in the registration
process because their civic consciousness is very high and most people
are determined to vote in the forthcoming elections. This means the
belief that Professor Attahiru Jega and his team will produce credible
elections remains high so citizens want to be part of the historical
moment when our political future w be decided. The agony of difficult
registration is therefore linked to the hope of consolidating democracy.

The political situation in the country is
presently very encouraging. It is clear that the forthcoming elections
will confirm what we know that one political party cannot be a behemoth
controlling the politics of over two-thirds of the country. Nigeria is
a federal country and four or five strong parties should emerge from
the elections.

Preparing for and addressing this outcome would
encourage the political class to negotiate alliances. The fact that the
candidate of the ruling party is from a minority zone without a huge
natural constituency means the chances for the opposition are real if
they can get their act together. It also means that there is a
possibility that the presidential election would require a run-off.

In many states of the country, ruling parties will probably change.
What this means is that the value of the vote is going to be very high.
Our votes will count in determining those who rule and those who do
not. The godfathers would become less important and less capable of
determining our political life. Yes indeed, the registration process is
agonising but we have hope for a greater political future. Political
parties should take note; their success depends on citizens and not
money, violence and electoral fraud.

A reader of my One
Man’s View of the CPC Convention wondered why I did not subject Messrs
Atiku Abubakar and Goodluck Jonathan to the same scrutiny.

Another said he
detected personal issues which he did not specify, as well as contempt
for the rural citizen who contributes more than the urban elite. He
said that “the qualification of mastery of English is a function of a
captive mind,” adding that the Chinese who have recently done more than
most to pull their people out of poverty never bothered to master the
English language.

All my writing is
the reflection of personal experience. I have had some experience
interviewing applicants for employment. It is the most interesting
candidate that receives the closest attention, the one that detains you
the longest. If I have not commented on Jonathan or Atiku then consider
the possibility that that explains why. Put another way, I chose to go
shopping in the General Buhari Department Store because I value good
reputation and it has a reputation as a good store selling good
products at affordable prices. I was disappointed that the products
that I was interested in as displayed in the store, and as I lifted and
closely inspected them, were of a very substandard quality. Hence, what
I wrote.

I said Buhari has a
poor speech writer. Let me explain why there should be no doubt about
that and why it matters. A writer must be conscious of the audience he
is addressing. If village people do not watch television, then he
should not use their language in his television address. A speech
writer should in addition be aware of who will deliver the speech.
English, like most human languages, contains synonyms, words which
convey the same or similar meanings as other words. If the writer knows
that the deliverer has a problem with the correct or intelligible
pronunciation of “fetch,” he should use “get.” If he does not know, or
if he does and doesn’t use the more accessible word, then it is clear
to me that he does not know his job. The point is that a speech should
not contain surprises which divert, rather than focus our attention.

Last year I saw in
an American journal the picture of a page in the draft of an address
prepared for US President Barack Obama. The President had made some
edits by hand. If you take a close look, you will notice that
everywhere there was a passive tense, Mr Obama had modified it with the
active voice. That was smart. He was to read it out loud. The active
voice works better. This is the sort of attentiveness that I require in
my leader. It is not an impossible ask nor is it foreign to Nigeria. We
had that kind of leader in Chief Awolowo.

The day after the
results of the 1979 elections were announced, Awolowo’s UPN held a
meeting at the Federal Palace Hotel in Lagos. After the meeting, a
radio reporter accosted Chief Awolowo with a question about the
controversy surrounding the interpretation of the declared results. The
way the reporter posed the question showed that he did not understand
the issue. What Awolowo did was to tell him that, rephrase the question
properly, and then answer it. I was a young boy at the time but I was
very much impressed. In fact I wrote an essay a few years ago about how
something else that Awolowo once said has had a lasting influence on my
life. If I appear hard on Buhari it is because he offers nothing to
inspire any young boy today.

Nevertheless, I was
well aware that my argument about the usage of English could be
dismissed as elite snobbery, hence the care I took to provide a
specific context for it. English is what unites us; if you want to
reach everyone then you stand a much better chance if you speak it in
an accessible manner. Another thing you could do, of course, if you are
the Nationalist you think you are is to speak in your native Hausa with
an English interpreter alongside you. Better yet, given that the
Chinese have a National language of their own, you could tell us your
plans for giving effect to the Constitutional recognition of Hausa,
Yoruba and Igbo. We will demand that those plans are made very clear.
How, for example, are you going to make Hausa an effective modern tool
of communication in Nigeria? Have you considered that despite our many
advanced-degree-awarding University Departments of Hausa with their
professors not possessed of captive minds, the only true Hausa
dictionary available is the result of the work done by an Englishman in
the 1930s? Have you noticed that the development of most of the new
information technology terminology in Hausa has been funded by the
Voice of America and the BBC? Is there an Igbo word for potassium
permanganate, and if not, how do you propose to create one? In which
schools will all this language learning take place? Do you have
sufficiently large numbers of speakers of Tiv able to teach Yoruba?
Provide a plan that has answers to these sorts of questions and I can
begin to take you seriously.

Confront me with an
argument that discussion about English or Hausa speech is really old
fashioned and not forward-looking and I will take you even more
seriously. Today’s world is one in which many young people are able to
conduct five or six conversations simultaneously using tools Made in
China, which is what enables the Chinese to do what they do for their
rural people. Dora Akunyili can express her horrow at the usage of the
term Naija, but it will not go away. A new version of English, and
Yoruba, and Igbo circumscribed by a 160 or 140 character communication
boundary is fast evolving. What new opportunities does it present for
Nigeria? What if General Buhari had not made an underwhelming personal
appearance at the convention at all? Imagine instead of that busy,
overcrowded podium, a large screen Made in Naija. In a large attractive
font, we are reading tweets or texts as Buhari sends his presumed
anti-corruption message from his home in Daura: “i wont steal n wont
let u,” “if u steal its jail 4 u,” “even if u r in d cpc.” He will have
his critics but I won’t be one of them. It will surprise in the right
way. It will capture the imagination of his immediate audience, but
also that of the outside world. Here was a leader with a novel approach
fully in tune with modern realities. Out of Nigeria! “i will ensure dat
all laws n rules r en4cd,” “if u will break dem beta leave d cpc now,”
“leave now.” It would have been interesting for me personally, as that
last text came in and focus switched to the audience, to see whether
Senator Faruk Bunza, who led the Convention to approve Buhari’s
nomination would get up and leave. Bunza, the same man who sent four of
his boys to my home to threaten me because I wrote a confidential
letter to him explaining why his plan to build a department store at a
bend on the road, on land crudely excised from one residence,
surrounded by two other residences was a bad idea, and why it was not
too late to convert the building into a residential one. The only
reason they didn’t beat me up, they said, was because I was not an
Nyamiri. If you do not have your vision of a good country articulated
in clear and unmistakable terms, such as is enforced by a 160 character
boundary, any old barbarian can rally with you.

NEXT’s comments
editors, clearly apprehensive about everyone getting along, deleted my
response to a comment by that infamously cheeky fellow in the comments
section of NEXT online news. The fellow owns the inscrutable
appellation of Truck Pusher.

He is sometimes
affectionately regarded, and sometimes reviled; an omnipresent
garrulous encyclopedia of a man or woman who very recently began to
claim that he is also an avid home cook who as a progressive monogamist
regularly and enthusiastically churns up meals for his current and
former wives. Last week he suggested that I use the Maggi version of
crayfish in my cooking of Ogbono soup. My deleted response:

“For the very last time Truck Pusher, I do not eat or cook with Maggi!”

The incidental
debate in the comments section was not actually about Maggi but about
Ogbono soup and what one was to put in it or exclude from it to make a
genuine Nigerian version of the soup. It was apparent from the debate
that many Nigerian cooks are “purists” when it comes to their choice of
soup ingredients: Crayfish is in; Maggi is in, Iru is in, pepper is in,
smoked fish is in; garlic is out, ginger is out, bay leaf is alien and
onions are strongly debated.

Those who argue
that Maggi is a classic Nigerian condiment are of course in a fashion
accurate. But the statement has many limitations. The stock cube
whether Maggi or Knorr or Royco can also be argued to be alien to the
Nigerian pot of soup. It can be argued to be alien to any pot of food.
The stock cube has no real resemblance to what it claims to represent.
It supposedly stands for the flavour of natural glutamates in meat,
chicken, crayfish, or vegetables, yet in form it is some vague powdery
substance held together by God knows what and preserved with some other
substances whose definition the layman is unsure of. Take for example
the stabilizer in the stock cube; what is a stabilizer anyway if it
isn’t that electronic device used for keeping NEPA sane.

Secondly in its
relationship to the mouth, the Maggi cube cannot be put on the tongue
on its own without causing some serious gagging. Without the addition
of water, its taste is pure acridity. It is basically inedible on its
own merit, so does it have a right to pretend that it is food or that
under any other label it is edible or an enhancer of taste?

It might be worthy
of mention that according to Maudlyn Park writing for Sahara Reporters
in her article “Shhhh! Maggi Cubes and big bubbly butts”, Congolese
women have found a novel use for the Maggi cube; have innovatively
discovered other parts of the body which will accept the Maggi cube
whole without cringing…Enough said

In its physical
similitude, its shape in no way or form follows nature’s shaping of
food. Real chicken stock made from a whole chicken in a generous pot of
water with herbs and spices and plain salt is renowned for being so
nourishing as to be considered medicinal. It is also an honest flavour
enhancer.

A stock or Maggi
cube on the other hand is convenience Umami, taste (questionable taste)
and nothing more. And for those who have found themselves reacting to
glutamates manipulated in laboratories, it can be a lot more in terms
of hazards to their health.

If from a table of
possible ingredients, the Nigerian picks out the bay leaf or garlic or
ginger or onion as the odd person, that choice needs to be strongly
questioned. At the least it is a superficial choice because many stock
cubes will profess to contain some form of onion or bay leaf anyway.
How can one, with any integrity snub ginger and garlic grown in Nigeria
with reassuring dirt still clinging to it at the point of purchase, and
choose in its stead, a stock cube!

Any Nigerian who
votes for the Maggi cube as the quintessential traditional Nigerian
condiment might be some class of purist, but he is the very worst kind.

I like the type of
Nigerian purist who swears by smelly Ogiri and Dadawa, fishy crayfish
and good plain homemade meat stock. In my opinion, that is the purist
worth his salt!

By the way,
Michelin star and celebrity chefs are known for their snobbery of stock
cubes; there is an unwritten code of conduct in which cooking with
stock cubes is considered unprofessional and dishonest. In that code of
conduct, in order to qualify even as a good home cook, one must be able
to make basic stock from scratch. I suppose all these reservations
don’t really apply to us Nigerians.

The conclusive point I suppose will still boil down to taste, since
a lot of eating is not about what is morally upright or even nutritious
but about what appeals to the taste buds. I believe that even by this
parameter…even where there is the comparison in taste between a pot
of Jollof rice cooked with Maggi, or a pot of Jollof rice cooked with
fresh homemade beef or chicken stock, there is no question that Jollof
rice cooked with wet, fresh, designer stock made up of chicken, ginger,
garlic, bay leaves, honey, hot pepper and salt wins and will always win
hands down!