Kill Corruption, not Subsidy

As I write, a revolution is ongoing in Nigeria. The Youth have finally woken up and realized that they cannot depend on the current 'elders' to secure their future. The youth have finally seen that they cannot just sit on their hands.

But while we are all pointing fingers at the Senators, House of Rep members and the President's cabinet, we need to also look into ourselves.

Are we also not corrupt? Are we clean? Are we sure it is not a case of the pot calling the kettle black?

For those of us that might say, 'I am not corrupt', we need to really do a reality check. Corruption should be eradicated at ALL levels, from the nursery school child to the oldest Nigerian citizen.

Here is a brief checklist - not exhaustive but it should clue you in:

 - If you sell anything [from garri, to marykay, to land, to flash drives], and you make more than 50% profit margin[profit not selling cost o], YOU ARE CORRUPT.

 - If you help someone to get a job, and you expect a percentage of his salary, YOU ARE CORRUPT.

 - If you help someone get a contract and you expect a share of the profit, [without stating your claims before your assistance o!] then YOU ARE CORRUPT. If the share you are demanding is a lion's share of the profit, YOU ARE VERY CORRUPT.

 - If you are in a position to manage service providers [from suppliers of meat in a Bukateria, to service providers to large businesses e.g. oil companies], and you demand that they 'grease your palm' to continue to receive favor, YOU ARE CORRUPT.

 - If you can carry out your contract with 10% of what you demand as price then YOU ARE CORRUPT.

 - If you spend less than 30% of your time doing other things instead of doing the work your employer pays you for, then YOU ARE CORRUPT.

 - If you go around stealing other people's ideas and parading them as your own then YOU ARE CORRUPT.

 - If you collect bribe, or 'thank you' in any form [cash or kind] then YOU ARE CORRUPT.

 - If you are placed in a position of judgment and you do not do your duty without partiality or bias, then, YOU ARE CORRUPT.

 - If you do not pay your employers according to the work they do for you and hours they spend for you then, YOU ARE CORRUPT.


Let's just face it, everyone needs a cleansing in Nigeria.
Kill Corruption not Subsidy - Yes I agree.
But the murder of corruption starts with YOU and I.
NOW

Kill Corruption, not Subsidy

As I write, a revolution is ongoing in Nigeria. The Youth have finally woken up and realized that they cannot depend on the current 'elders' to secure their future. The youth have finally seen that they cannot just sit on their hands.

But while we are all pointing fingers at the Senators, House of Rep members and the President's cabinet, we need to also look into ourselves.

Are we also not corrupt? Are we clean? Are we sure it is not a case of the pot calling the kettle black?

For those of us that might say, 'I am not corrupt', we need to really do a reality check. Corruption should be eradicated at ALL levels, from the nursery school child to the oldest Nigerian citizen.

Here is a brief checklist - not exhaustive but it should clue you in:

 - If you sell anything [from garri, to marykay, to land, to flash drives], and you make more than 50% profit margin[profit not selling cost o], YOU ARE CORRUPT.

 - If you help someone to get a job, and you expect a percentage of his salary, YOU ARE CORRUPT.

 - If you help someone get a contract and you expect a share of the profit, [without stating your claims before your assistance o!] then YOU ARE CORRUPT. If the share you are demanding is a lion's share of the profit, YOU ARE VERY CORRUPT.

 - If you are in a position to manage service providers [from suppliers of meat in a Bukateria, to service providers to large businesses e.g. oil companies], and you demand that they 'grease your palm' to continue to receive favor, YOU ARE CORRUPT.

 - If you can carry out your contract with 10% of what you demand as price then YOU ARE CORRUPT.

 - If you spend less than 30% of your time doing other things instead of doing the work your employer pays you for, then YOU ARE CORRUPT.

 - If you go around stealing other people's ideas and parading them as your own then YOU ARE CORRUPT.

 - If you collect bribe, or 'thank you' in any form [cash or kind] then YOU ARE CORRUPT.

 - If you are placed in a position of judgment and you do not do your duty without partiality or bias, then, YOU ARE CORRUPT.

 - If you do not pay your employers according to the work they do for you and hours they spend for you then, YOU ARE CORRUPT.


Let's just face it, everyone needs a cleansing in Nigeria.
Kill Corruption not Subsidy - Yes I agree.
But the murder of corruption starts with YOU and I.
NOW

Fab – ulous Tips

Hey Everyone!
Yes I know I deserve some spanking for having such a long haitus, and will turn around for it as soon as I finish typing this, I promise [fingers crossed at my back].
I just had to share this great find - I have not seen words of wisdom for Startups and Aspiring Entreprenuers this brief and to the point yet.

Its about Fab.com, and their instant success since starting 130 days ago [yes you read right!]. They presently have 750,000 members and 3 million hits on their site per month [I just added to that list, so make it 3 million and 1]. And most importantly, they have $100,000 sales days - very important to the Nigerian Entrepreneur I am sure!
They share a set of slides for us to learn the major 21 things they have learnt so far, that keeps them growing.
I am sure my Entrepreneur friends and family members will appreciate this.
Please take the time to read through - its just 21 points after all :)
Click this sentence

Fab – ulous Tips

Hey Everyone!
Yes I know I deserve some spanking for having such a long haitus, and will turn around for it as soon as I finish typing this, I promise [fingers crossed at my back].
I just had to share this great find - I have not seen words of wisdom for Startups and Aspiring Entreprenuers this brief and to the point yet.

Its about Fab.com, and their instant success since starting 130 days ago [yes you read right!]. They presently have 750,000 members and 3 million hits on their site per month [I just added to that list, so make it 3 million and 1]. And most importantly, they have $100,000 sales days - very important to the Nigerian Entrepreneur I am sure!
They share a set of slides for us to learn the major 21 things they have learnt so far, that keeps them growing.
I am sure my Entrepreneur friends and family members will appreciate this.
Please take the time to read through - its just 21 points after all :)
Click this sentence

On Fear, Elephants and Letting Go

The Voice Box
I was an aggressive fat little kid who stuttered and didn’t have many friends. Every day at school I was afraid to open my mouth because it would invariably lead to being laughed at.

In French class when everyone had to take turns to read a sentence out loud, I would start calculating when it would be my turn, frantically trying to figure out how to get the damn phrase out of my throat. I’d be blushing and sweating when my time had come and I’d be exhausted when it was all over.

Don’t even get me started about oral presentations.

The Blob
I have this thing. Maybe it’s a condition. Maybe it’s just part of life. I get scared when a big blob of undefined work heads my way. I do love attacking big, new and unknown problem sets, but sometimes stuff just overwhelms me. Threatens to shut me down.

I’ve messed up things in the past because of that. Totally blew a big Drupal project once, when I found myself too paralyzed to really move forward and too stubborn to ask for help. In the end it cost me much more than a good relationship with a very interesting research institution, but that’s a story for another day. Maybe.

Today I’m finding myself at the start of a massive project. Exactly the type of project I wanted to work on when I came to Africa. The kind of project where your work has the potential to change something at the end of the day, to create something new and meaningful. Loads and loads of man days are foreseen; almost all of it as of yet undefined.

Holy. Crap.

The Intern
There’s someone I haven’t met many times in real life, but whom I consider a good friend. He was recently offered an internship in an awesome team at a rather well-known social network. He’s obviously over the moon, but I’m sure pretty soon he’ll be entering the oh-my-god-what-have-I-gotten-myself-into stage and start sweating.

The Exchange Student from Cameroon
I have this buddy Big Guy. I don’t get to see him too often, with me living in Senegal and all, but that makes our time together all the more special. He’s a month younger but he’s always been a decade smarter than me. He was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. If he’s not scared, I’m plenty scared for the both of us.

The Lassitude
Years of speech therapy only put band aids on the wound. Nothing really changed until one day when I was 15 or so I saw an interview with a guy whose stutter was way worse than mine. Yet of all things he could have been in life, he was a public speaker. A public stutterer.

Here’s what he said: if *you* are bothered by your stuttering and fear the reactions of the world, the world is going to react to your fear. If you are truly indifferent to your stuttering, no-one is going to care.

It took a few weeks to really sink in, but when it did, my stutter as good as disappeared.

In my early twenties I started working as a technical help desk operator, and a few years later I started publicly speaking – and stuttering – at DrupalCamps and DrupalCons. Thing is, most of the people I know have probably not even noticed I still occasionally stutter. And if they did notice, they didn’t care. Because I didn’t.

The Elephant and the Hydra
A former manager of mine once gave me a solid piece of advice. I didn’t really get how valuable it was until much later. He told me “the only way to eat a whole elephant is steak by steak”.

I’ve come to realize a blob is not a hydra. It does not sprout other blobs when you attack it.

We fear what we don’t know. The way to defeat a blob is by describing it. By defining what it is. By pulling it from the realm of the unknown into the realm of the known. By breaking it into little pieces and killing it slowly, softly.

The Exchange Student Revisited
I haven’t seen my buddy since he told me about his diagnosis. I’m still angry and scared and frustrated.

I’m not really sure how he’s doing. He doesn’t talk all that much. Real Men and all that.

He’s hanging in there though, leading his life, getting promoted, doing an awesome job transitioning from a junior java developer to a project manager and team leader.

I think he stopped caring a little and started munching on some elephant filet.

Not Knowing

This is a poem I wrote for a friend that is having issues....she enjoyed it and has permitted me to share to the world as well - someone out there probably needs the upliftment....

Its family thanksgiving day.
Everyone is in church, seated with their families, children, grandparents and all.
The pastor calls out all the couples that are a year old, and my husband and I file out with the rest.
10 couples in all.
And only one couple is without a baby.
Us.
It felt like the sore thumb, always sticking out. It doesn’t help matters that both my sisters-in-law are among us. I can’t help but feel like everyone is staring at me,
wondering why,
wondering when.
Well, I don't know too!
And I don't like it either!
I don’t like not knowing when God will finally answer my prayers and give me the twins I want.
I don't like not knowing whether I will menstruate or even ovulate each month.
I don't like not knowing how my body could fluctuate between weight levels so rapidly and often.
I don't enjoy being asked when my due date is when I know it’s my bulging tummy that's deceiving their eyes.
I don't like not knowing when my tears will end, when my morning will come at last.
And it doesn’t help matters, not knowing.
How am I supposed to explain to everyone that I'm afflicted with PCOS? Who will understand?
The pastor's call for five year old couples pulls me back to the present.
8 couples in all.
Then I see her.
She is the only one without a child clinging to her skirt. She stands alone, looking just above all our heads.
I can see the tears shimmering in her eyes.
She is a nice friendly person, a humble individual and it is only now that I have discovered.
I know.
I know how she feels.
Tears roll down my cheeks as I begin to pray.
I begin to pray for her in earnest.
If anybody needs a child, she needs it the most.
Who am I to complain? See another woman, five years without an issue, bearing it valiantly.
I thank God for answered prayers.
I thank God for my life.

Not Knowing

This is a poem I wrote for a friend that is having issues....she enjoyed it and has permitted me to share to the world as well - someone out there probably needs the upliftment....

Its family thanksgiving day.
Everyone is in church, seated with their families, children, grandparents and all.
The pastor calls out all the couples that are a year old, and my husband and I file out with the rest.
10 couples in all.
And only one couple is without a baby.
Us.
It felt like the sore thumb, always sticking out. It doesn’t help matters that both my sisters-in-law are among us. I can’t help but feel like everyone is staring at me,
wondering why,
wondering when.
Well, I don't know too!
And I don't like it either!
I don’t like not knowing when God will finally answer my prayers and give me the twins I want.
I don't like not knowing whether I will menstruate or even ovulate each month.
I don't like not knowing how my body could fluctuate between weight levels so rapidly and often.
I don't enjoy being asked when my due date is when I know it’s my bulging tummy that's deceiving their eyes.
I don't like not knowing when my tears will end, when my morning will come at last.
And it doesn’t help matters, not knowing.
How am I supposed to explain to everyone that I'm afflicted with PCOS? Who will understand?
The pastor's call for five year old couples pulls me back to the present.
8 couples in all.
Then I see her.
She is the only one without a child clinging to her skirt. She stands alone, looking just above all our heads.
I can see the tears shimmering in her eyes.
She is a nice friendly person, a humble individual and it is only now that I have discovered.
I know.
I know how she feels.
Tears roll down my cheeks as I begin to pray.
I begin to pray for her in earnest.
If anybody needs a child, she needs it the most.
Who am I to complain? See another woman, five years without an issue, bearing it valiantly.
I thank God for answered prayers.
I thank God for my life.

Bosi Gbangba pt5

Sorry folks, I know this has been long over-due. You can read part 1, part 2, part 3 and part 4 first.
=-------=
=-------=
"Mummy, open the door!" Ajibike shouted as she jumped up and down excitedly at the entrance to her home. She had just come back from a photo session with her best friend, Lanre. They were neighbors- the Adekomi's stayed on the ground floor while their family occupied the upper flat of their building, which was among the staff quarters on campus.
Ajibike had been scared at first when her mother had told her Mr. Adekomi would be taking them there, a man so tall that all she ever saw were his long long legs. The only time she ever saw his face was the one time he had carried them all to school, when he yelled that she had not closed the door of his VolksWagen Beetle car properly, and after that, she had cried that she never wanted to follow him to school again. It didn't help that his cheeks were lined from one end to another in tribal marks either.

Ajibike had sat quietly in the car until they had gotten to the studio, and had scrambled out so she would not be the last one out of the car - and thus the one to close the door. She had had a fun time making faces at the camera, only to be told that she had been there before as a baby, with her friend Lanre. She had been given a complimentary copy of their early photo and she was clutching it in her hand at the door right then.


Before she could shout again, the door swung open, and she ran into the living room. Her Aunt Itam, her mother's Calabar-born help was busy trying to force her little brother to wear a sweater over his shirt - with one glance Ajibike saw she wasn't making any progress.
"Where is mummy?" she asked.
"Is that how to say good afternoon?" Aunt Itam replied.
"Sorry Auntie," Ajibike mumbled. "good afternoon Auntie."
"Good afternoon to you too," Aunt Itam replied. "How was your photography?"
"You mean photo session, Itam," Aunt Ibiriyike interrupted as she entered the room. She was Ajibike's mother's younger sister, and as far as Ajibike was concerned, an angel from God living among humans.
"Yes," Aunt Itam agreed."Your photo session, how was it?"
"Fine Auntie," shouted Ajibike, who pivoted to her angel instantly. "I behaved myself, and the photographer gave me this as a gift! He said I had been there before as a baby!"
"Yes that's true," agreed Aunt Ibiriyike. "When you had no hair on your shiny head."
Ajibike touched her head of full, curly hair. "I didn't have hair?" she asked, dismayed.
"Yes, but you have plenty now," Aunt Ibiriyike said, rubbing her head affectionately before she pulled out the large-scale photo gift, and smiled. It was a copy of the shot showing Ajibike sitting on a stool, and Lanre standing beside her, both smiling so happily.
"Lemme see!" shouted Ajibike, as she jumped up, trying to catch a glimpse.
"Here have it," Aunt Ibiriyike handed it over to her.
Ajibike stared at the picture and smiled, already sure she was going to tease Lanre for his almost toothless grin at his age - he was about a year older than her and should have had plenty teeth by the time of the picture. She felt a tug at her shirt and looked down at her baby brother Deji as he used her as a prop to stand. When he was upright he reached for the photograph but she raised it out of his reach.
"No Deji," she said repeatedly. "You will spoil it!"
Frustrated, the toddler grabbed her clothes closer as if to hug her.
Ajibike smiled. Her baby brother had never tried hugging her before, she thought, as she put her hands around his body, bending a little to enjoy the special moment.

Then she felt the bite.
Her baby brother had bitten her stomach, in the navel area, with all of his five teeth.
It would have been mild if the boy had let go but he held on to her flesh, through her dress, as tight as he could.

Ajibike's yells brought everybody, including her father, to the living room. Eventually they were able to separate the two children. While Deji gave his first true smile since he could crawl, Ajibike cried and cried so much that her mother was scared that they might have to go to the hospital just for check up. As their father was still contemplating whether to disagree, Mrs. Adekomi, who was a nurse, knocked on the door.
"We heard Ajibike screaming," she said. "Hope no problem."
"None o," replied Ajibike's mother. "Just the two of them fighting. Deji bit Ajibike in the stomach."
"Thanks for checking on us Madam." Ajibike's Dad interrupted Mrs. Adekomi's sympathetic response. "And if you dont mind, could you please examine the bite? She keeps crying and crying."
Fifteen minutes later Mrs. Adekomi confirmed his thoughts - no serious wounds. She must be crying from the emotional pain,the nurse concluded.
But when by nighttime Ajibike was still sobbing and scrambling away from Deji everytime he crawled near, her mother knew she had to do something.

Bosi Gbangba pt5

Sorry folks, I know this has been long over-due. You can read part 1, part 2, part 3 and part 4 first.
=-------=
=-------=
"Mummy, open the door!" Ajibike shouted as she jumped up and down excitedly at the entrance to her home. She had just come back from a photo session with her best friend, Lanre. They were neighbors- the Adekomi's stayed on the ground floor while their family occupied the upper flat of their building, which was among the staff quarters on campus.
Ajibike had been scared at first when her mother had told her Mr. Adekomi would be taking them there, a man so tall that all she ever saw were his long long legs. The only time she ever saw his face was the one time he had carried them all to school, when he yelled that she had not closed the door of his VolksWagen Beetle car properly, and after that, she had cried that she never wanted to follow him to school again. It didn't help that his cheeks were lined from one end to another in tribal marks either.

Ajibike had sat quietly in the car until they had gotten to the studio, and had scrambled out so she would not be the last one out of the car - and thus the one to close the door. She had had a fun time making faces at the camera, only to be told that she had been there before as a baby, with her friend Lanre. She had been given a complimentary copy of their early photo and she was clutching it in her hand at the door right then.


Before she could shout again, the door swung open, and she ran into the living room. Her Aunt Itam, her mother's Calabar-born help was busy trying to force her little brother to wear a sweater over his shirt - with one glance Ajibike saw she wasn't making any progress.
"Where is mummy?" she asked.
"Is that how to say good afternoon?" Aunt Itam replied.
"Sorry Auntie," Ajibike mumbled. "good afternoon Auntie."
"Good afternoon to you too," Aunt Itam replied. "How was your photography?"
"You mean photo session, Itam," Aunt Ibiriyike interrupted as she entered the room. She was Ajibike's mother's younger sister, and as far as Ajibike was concerned, an angel from God living among humans.
"Yes," Aunt Itam agreed."Your photo session, how was it?"
"Fine Auntie," shouted Ajibike, who pivoted to her angel instantly. "I behaved myself, and the photographer gave me this as a gift! He said I had been there before as a baby!"
"Yes that's true," agreed Aunt Ibiriyike. "When you had no hair on your shiny head."
Ajibike touched her head of full, curly hair. "I didn't have hair?" she asked, dismayed.
"Yes, but you have plenty now," Aunt Ibiriyike said, rubbing her head affectionately before she pulled out the large-scale photo gift, and smiled. It was a copy of the shot showing Ajibike sitting on a stool, and Lanre standing beside her, both smiling so happily.
"Lemme see!" shouted Ajibike, as she jumped up, trying to catch a glimpse.
"Here have it," Aunt Ibiriyike handed it over to her.
Ajibike stared at the picture and smiled, already sure she was going to tease Lanre for his almost toothless grin at his age - he was about a year older than her and should have had plenty teeth by the time of the picture. She felt a tug at her shirt and looked down at her baby brother Deji as he used her as a prop to stand. When he was upright he reached for the photograph but she raised it out of his reach.
"No Deji," she said repeatedly. "You will spoil it!"
Frustrated, the toddler grabbed her clothes closer as if to hug her.
Ajibike smiled. Her baby brother had never tried hugging her before, she thought, as she put her hands around his body, bending a little to enjoy the special moment.

Then she felt the bite.
Her baby brother had bitten her stomach, in the navel area, with all of his five teeth.
It would have been mild if the boy had let go but he held on to her flesh, through her dress, as tight as he could.

Ajibike's yells brought everybody, including her father, to the living room. Eventually they were able to separate the two children. While Deji gave his first true smile since he could crawl, Ajibike cried and cried so much that her mother was scared that they might have to go to the hospital just for check up. As their father was still contemplating whether to disagree, Mrs. Adekomi, who was a nurse, knocked on the door.
"We heard Ajibike screaming," she said. "Hope no problem."
"None o," replied Ajibike's mother. "Just the two of them fighting. Deji bit Ajibike in the stomach."
"Thanks for checking on us Madam." Ajibike's Dad interrupted Mrs. Adekomi's sympathetic response. "And if you dont mind, could you please examine the bite? She keeps crying and crying."
Fifteen minutes later Mrs. Adekomi confirmed his thoughts - no serious wounds. She must be crying from the emotional pain,the nurse concluded.
But when by nighttime Ajibike was still sobbing and scrambling away from Deji everytime he crawled near, her mother knew she had to do something.

Bosi Gbangba pt4

Sorry folks, I know this has been long over-due. You can read part 1, part 2 and part 3 first.
=-------=

"What do you think happened?" asked her husband as he joined her on the balcony to watch the coming procession.
"I don't know," she replied, "but it cant be good for 7 people to be carrying our daughter home."
"She's alive isnt she?" the father mused. "Then it can't be that bad. Just calm down."
Thirty minutes later he wasn't sure of his conclusion anymore. The crowd had arrived and were taking up the space in his living room. When he asked what the problem was, they all tried to explain at once.
"Silence!" bellowed Daddy Eko. "Only one person should talk."
"She has a bead stuck in her nose." the sunday school teacher said.
"Is that all?" her mother asked, sighing in releif. "She didn't beat anybody? Didnt steal anything?"
"No Ma." replied the man. "She's a good girl. That's why we're all so concerned."
"I hope there are other teachers with the remaining kids, seeing as many of you as this." Daddy Eko said.
"Yes there are sir." replied the teacher as he realized that only the instructor on the stage didnt follow them to Ajibike's house.
"We will be taking our leave now." he added. "Are you taking her to the hospital?"
"Something stuck in her nose you say?" repeated Daddy Eko as he stroked his thick moustache in thought. "That should be easy to pull out."
"Madam can I get a hairpin?" he asked the mother, who promptly ran into the rooms to get one. She was back seconds later with a black thin piece.
"Thank you." he muttered, as he collected it from her shaking fingers. "Ajibike, come here."
the girl ran to him gaily, smiling.
"Now I want you to do something for me." he said in a softer voice. He waited until her distracted eyes focused on him again before adding, “Stay still. I am going to try to bring out the bead in your nose with this pin. I wont hurt you, but you must stay still so that I can do it properly, ok?”
Little Ajibike nodded in understanding. She looked around again, wondering what the problem was. Her mother looked ready to burst into tears, while her father face held a grim expression. If she didn’t know better she would have thought he wanted to beat her, but she didn’t know what her crime was this time. Surely the bead stuck in her nose was not going to kill her. Couldn’t they all see that she could still smile and talk?
After thirty minutes of gentle rummaging, Daddy Eko raised his eyes to her father and shook his head slightly. Then he asked Ajibike for a favor.
“Breath out like this” And he breathed out.
Ajibike savored the attention she was getting from her Daddy Eko as usual, and obeyed. She breathed in, then she breathed out. Her mother raised her hands to her head and began a silent wail. Her father rubbed her mother’s back and whispered calming noises that Ajibike could barely hear above the din the Sunday school teachers raised at her actions.
Ajibike looked confused. Why did they start shouting? Didn’t they see that she was trying to emulate the deep breath her Daddy Eko just breathed out?
As always, Daddy Eko understood her young mind.
“Don’t try to do it as deep as I did,” he said. “Just breath out with force, you understand?”
She nodded vigorously.
“Now breath out.” He ordered.
She breathed out.
“Harder, Ajibike” he added.
Since there was not enough to breath harder, she breathed in, then out. Her mother started crying seriously.
Daddy Eko pulled Ajibike into a hug then rose from his seat. He and her father thanked the teachers profusely and ushered them to the door. When they were gone, he turned to his friend.
“We have to go to the hospital.” He said. “The bead is round and her nostril is too tiny. They might have to do an operation to get it out though.”
At the word ‘operation’ her mother’s cries grew louder.
“Daddy Eko,” Ajibike said for the first time since she was brought home. “What is wrong with my mummy?”
“She has plenty water in her eyes,” her father replied. “Where is your shoe?”
“It cut.” She replied.
“Go and get another one and lets go.” He ordered.
By the time she had found a complete pair, her mother’s crying had stopped. She came out and handed them to her mother.
“Mummy please help me wear my shoes,” she said. The mother quietly complied.
They entered the hospital through the emergency entrance. When the nurses saw what the emergency was, they began to rush.

=-----------=
THREE HOURS LATER
“Has she woken up yet?” the British doctor interrupted his assistant’s explanation of the procedure they had almost performed on Ajibike.
“She’s stirring sir” the assistant replied, glancing at the girl in her arms, before continuing, “We were supposed to make the incision just above where the bead was stuck, then cut downwards until it could drop freely, but something happened. We could not find the knife to make the incision. This was not possible as I had supervised the cleaning of the tools myself, we were wondering what to do as we had already applied anesthesia and everything, when Dr. Graham interrupted us and asked, “Why not make her sneeze?””
“That was it! By the second sneeze the bead had popped out of her nose, just like that!”
Ajibike’s mother was so relieved that her baby’s nose had not been cut open, she was smiling and praying in Yoruba in short bursts. She prayed for Dr. Graham’s great-grandchildren and Dr. Ogochuckwu’s great great grand children.
Dr. Graham’s attention was more focused on the child that was awakening in Dr. Ogochukwu’s arms. He waited for Ajibike to raise herself and glance around at the people standing over her before he spoke again.
“Little lady,” he said. “If you ever get anything stuck in your nose again, you will meet me in the theatre.”
Then he motioned with his fingers, “I’ll snip snip your nose to get it out.” He didn’t smile as Ajibike shuddered in fear.
To this day, those hairy fingers, making the scissors motion are still vivid in Ajibike’s mind, and she never ever touches her nose with anything, not even a flower.