As soon as he had his copy of my new book in his hands, The Wonder of Books, he made this striking remark: “Congratulations for answering to the vocation of sitting down.” The idea was entirely new to me; haven’t heard that there was such a vocation. I only knew two: marriage and pastoring. It happened that my friend, Valentine, just came up with a third, one we should all aspire to. Of course, I asked him to explain, the details of which I herein share.

To kick-start his lecture, he waved the book across my face and asked me, “Can you sum up the entire time, from the very start to finish, it took you to getting this piece out, especially with respect to arriving at this quality and volume?” I couldn’t immediately do that summation because arriving at an answer that is close to the truth should take pretty much time; I’d never even given it a thought. But it was a rhetorical question; Val already could guess it took some great deal of time, and it truly and really did.

He was getting at a point I didn’t suspect with that question, as he wanted to put it to me that the work got me sitting down way more than the average person could – not even he himself. I felt my ego raise its head in response to those kind words, but since I wasn’t in for an ego trip and was hell-bent on getting the full gist on the vocation of sitting down, I queried further, “How is sitting down a vocation, then?”

Beginning from his own routine, and proceeding to implicate those with whom he lived and worked, he made this explanation: “Running around is easy, just being busy being busy is fun and anyone can do that. But those who dare to sit down for as long as it would take to produce a fine work of art, of course through creative thinking and continuous reflection, are very much in the minority. And they are the ones that change the world.” I was starting to feel like a world changer when he continued, “My dear friend, it is just not easy; I can’t. I even struggle to get by with my coursework.” Knowing that he was being both sincere and truthful, I gently concurred, and then got us another topic to discuss.

My case was that of writing a book, but the vocation of sitting down is a universal call. Given that we all aspire to stand out, then sitting down is the way. And here is what happens when we dare to sit down, and practically “sit down” I mean: we generate original ideas and conjure up creativity from the depth of our being, which when deployed to our various and varied stations in life yield striking accomplishments and birth unusual discoveries. In fact, in sitting down, in the company of sober reflection, we become one with God!

In a noisy world like ours, and one that privileges activity over productivity, this vocation may not only be challenging but frustrating. Next to every neighbor turns up the volume of their stereo like they’re the only ones in town, next to every driver blares the horn like they’re pushing the other driver to jump the queue and pay a fine, next to every convoy menaces the peace of the neighborhood with their ostentatious sirens, next to every loved one wants us to unendingly lend them our ears – to fill them with gossips and junks. Personally, I’d to sometimes put writing on hold for a sibling to watch a movie or blast the music stereo. These realities further complicate things for us – with regards this vocation.

However, we can dare to try. Just try. Why not wake up early before dawn to answer to the vocation of sitting down. After all, Longfellow revealed that great men got there by doing their thing while their ‘companions’ slept. Why not watch your social network outing. Why not take a walk to a lonely place. Why not turn off your phone. Why not just try…

In all sincerity, I’m done throwing stones at President Buhari. While I was busy hauling stones at him, I thought him to be everything else but sensible; in my thinking he wasn’t just getting anything right. His accent and speeches, his travels, his appointments, his body language, his press briefings, even his dressing all made me sick. I didn’t hate him, and I shouldn’t hate any human being, but I wasn’t comfortable with him one bit. To say the least, this wasn’t because I didn’t approve of his bid for Aso Rock from the word go, but because I expected more from him as the President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria. Lest I forget, I respected him just once; his inaugural speech was a killer. But he lost that respect weeks later when Cardinal Okojie nearly swore that the Buhari he knows couldn’t have come up with such a masterpiece all by himself.

Two reasons saw to my metanoia. One is personal, and the other is this: we’re stuck with him being president, and the best we can do for ourselves is find a common ground from which to operate. Do you doubt that we’re stuck with him? Then a simple demonstration would do. There’re five ways in which he can cede the presidency, and all five ways are no-go areas – to the best of my knowledge, and I’m only being realistic. One is through coup d’etat, and the Nigerian Army wouldn’t do it to Buhari. Second is death, and we can’t bank on that. Third is impeachment, and APC wouldn’t let that happen. Fourth is through mob action, and Nigerians are too gentle for that. Final option is resignation, Buhari would rather die than append his signature to any such letter. You see. We’re stuck with him till 2019 at least, and if he beats his competition to a second term, then 2023. By my tunic, that time is darn long. Don’t ask me how I can be so sure; every realistic Nigerian can be as sure.

However, it’s immediately important to say that refraining from hauling stones at him doesn’t mean going cold on issues of concern; it means approaching them both positively and more constructively; it entails talking about the wins as much as the loses; it says goodbye to the Nigerian household unethical practice of name-calling. On the whole, it means taking full responsibility for Nigeria while tasking the leadership for it’s quota.

Here’s my point: while we keep pushing this edifice called the Nigerian state into murky waters by badmouthing her leadership, and as we await change or chance to save the day, we can as well get busy fixing the “Buhari” in most of us – on individual basis. These “Buhari-areas” in our individual lives include:

1. Obsession for leadership
The average Nigerian like to be in charge – except those with obvious impediments; these ones make do with wishing. Somehow, we’re a “title-centric” people; we want to be at the hem of affairs. And we go all out for it – by any means necessary. The annoying part of this is that we don’t care a thing about preparation. This is unfortunate.

2. We worship LUCK
There’s this annoying way we quickly have recourse to luck. A Nigerian just wakes up one morning and starts a business without a plan, and he strongly believes he’s going to make it really big. Of course, the Nigerian spirit of never-say-die sees some to making it, but the majority must woefully fail. Time to “port” from luck to better options.

3. We think we’ve all the solution
You’ll die laughing when you hear the street man reel out the way forward for the Nigerian situation. There’s this way Buhari was die-hard convinced that he will fix Nigeria the next morning after inauguration. Truth be told, we rarely have all the solutions; only the guy in the shoe knows where it pinches.

4. We pay deaf ears to others’ opinions
ITK is a Nigerian thing – I-too–know. Over-sabi dey worry us. And the implication is that the other person can barely tell us what to do; our ears go deaf! Too bad.

5. We’re darn good at excuses
Are you surprised the number of excuses grow by the day? From corruption, judiciary, “cabal,” fall in oil price, Boko Haram, Nigerians’ unruliness, etc. That’s us! Ask an average Nigeria why he didn’t succeed at something and his many always seemingly plausible excuses will make you apologize for thinking otherwise.

6. We’re award-winning blame-gamers
Are you surprised Lai Mohammed always lashes it at Jonathan’s administration? And APC blaming PDP? That’s the best they can do on a good day (it’s a DNA thing), and most of us are the same: blame the government, blame the economy, blame our parents, blame America, blame the this and blame the that, and forgetting that many people are thriving in spite of those challenges.

***Christ said it best, “Let the person without sin be the first to cast a stone.” We’ve to deal with those traits; it’s a sacred duty.

I hear Oga got us some goodies from China. As much as some insist he’s daft, why not we just call this one a win.

I’m off to do a bottle of beer on this account; don’t know about you. If you like dey there dey make noise. lol!

On this day, April 12, 1945, Franklin Delano Roosevelt died; it was 3 months into his record 4th term in office (12 years in all, March 1933 – April 1945). Though he was the 32nd POTUS (President of the United States), some analysts rank him 3rd on the all-time performance scale of the POTUS – after Abraham Lincoln and George Washington, who rank 1st and 2nd respectively. To his credit are a number of trails, especially: the celebrated US Social Security, and the 1st and only nuclear bomb detonation – on the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It is also important to note that he ran both offices of Governor of New York and President of the United States on wheelchair, having caught polio earlier in adulthood.

This piece is not particularly about FDR (as he’s “abbreviationally” called) and the US, as it is squarely about the ordinary Nigerian and Nigeria. One last point about FDR that is ad rem to this piece is the bizarre circumstance surrounding his presidency and how he got Americans out of it. Herbert Hoover was his immediate predecessor, whose administration was hit by the October 1929 total collapse of the stock market. It is called the Great Depression because it was so great a depression, one that left America in shreds. Neither the centre nor anything else held; things not only fell apart but ground to pieces. Thousands of factories ran out of operating power, thousands of banks folded up, and an uncountable number of businesses filed bankruptcy. And what did President Hoover do? NOTHING. He relied on the unfounded assumption that the depression was a natural part of doing business, and went on to hoping against the hope that things will normalize in a year or two. But things only got worse and even worst until his tenure elapse in 1932/33.

Then came FDR. And he called his presidency the NEW DEAL. Anchored on the tripod of Relief, Reform, and Recovery, the New Deal was true to its name. Importantly, the New Deal wasn’t magic; it slowly and steadily turned things around and eventually saved the day.

The recent happenings in Nigeria, especially the excruciating pains that the average Nigerian is passing through has got everyone in a mad-chase for a lasting solution. Analysts are saying their own, critics are firing at the sitting government, the religious people are taking it spiritual, and everyone is just on it! But one thing is certain: the Nigerian situation is not yet as bad as the Great Depression, one that lasted almost 10 years. During this depression, death practically swept through the streets of America every other morning. And the New Deal got Americans out of it.

And so, I’m calling our attention to the following:

We always needed a New Deal

A wise man defined insanity thus: Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. What madness! And so, what will get Nigeria out of the current economic cum political mess she’s in must be something new. Business as usual will only deliver the usual results. And what are these usual results? These include: the celebration of mediocrity, ethnic politics, nepotism, incompetent leadership, favoritism, bribery and corruption, and what have you. A good student of Nigerian history knows that we’ve been on this same spot since independence; we’ve only been improving upon the status quo. And so, we can be sure that even if luck or grace gets us out of our present mess, we’re going back there very soon; only a matter of time. Unless we at least try out something new, something different – in anticipation of a different result.

We must never forget

Nigerians are notoriously reputed for their “collective amnesia.” It was Matthew Kukah who said so. We just have this embarrassing way of forgetting. Our hate for history is unarguably second to none on the planet. One thing anyone can be sure of is that we will forget the mess we’re in the morning after it, such that we may again chant C.H.A.N.G.E. in 2019. We must not forget this episode in our national life. We must detail it on paper and pass it on to our children, requesting them to equally pass it on and on. We must say to them, “Once upon a time we all played the fool, and that should never repeat itself ever again.”

THIS IS THE NEW DEAL

Individuation. That’s the word. And that word is neither synonymous to selfishness nor anti-community.

There’s this interesting way Africans pride themselves over the West for being a communalistic people. Funny. And what have we to show for it? The list of our enduring legacies runs the gamut from celebrated underdevelopment, disease and starvation, weak political structures and poor political consciousness to human rights abuses. And then we turn to the same West for aids and loans. Does it make sense? I doubt.
Those of us in the social sciences know that communal living is one of the earlier and lower organizations of the human society. Even the Church knew about this enough to give US all the needed support with which to dismantle the Soviet’s Communist Manifesto. Why? Because communism seeks to subject the individual to the tyranny of the group. We’ll even make heaven as individuals, remember.

Note that it is the individual that thinks. It is the individual that does science. It is the individual that does arts. Inventors are individuals. Social reformers are individuals. Religion founders are individuals. Revolutions are staged by individuals. Systems of government and operations are designed by individuals. When more than one person embark upon any of the above, it is insofar as they share common interest or for convenience.

There’s just this way we mess things up under the umbrella of groups. There’s this way we absolve ourselves of the guilt that stem from collective action; we simply say, “I’m not the one,” and that’s it! In Nigeria, for instance, a good number of us think we’re safe by saying, “I wasn’t a party to voting in the Buhari-led administration.” But what difference does it make when everyone buys petrol at the same alarming price.

The novelty in individuation is that full responsibility is taken and original creativity is deployed to tackling problems.

My point: individuals must rise up to the Nigerian challenge. We must begin to treat our macro-problem like we treat our marital and business problems. It should make us cry, it should give us sleepless nights. It should shut our mouths up from complaining and cursing, and send us instead to do quality researches on the way forward.

When Nigerian individuals start doing this, a new crop of fine leaders will naturally emerge. And once leadership is taken care of, everything else has this astonishing way of taking care of itself. With a charismatic leader, for instance, patriotism simply turns into bread and butter.

Back to FDR. The day following Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour, December 8, 1941, he stood before a Joint Session of US Congress to request them to declare war on the Empire of Japan. That epoch-making speech tagged “Infamy Speech” lasted just 7 minutes. Now, here’s my point: 33 minutes later, Congress declared full scale war on the Empire of Japan, and the number of Americans that enlisted in the US Army to that effect can only be second to Lincoln’s and Washington’s. That’s how it works, the individual moves the group.

Over the years I’ve earned the notorious reputation among my friends for not minding my business. In fact, Stella categorically told me that there’s this way I keep quizzing people on stuffs about them without me realizing I’m doing that. After giving it a thought, I realized she was correct, and I owe those friends who don’t enjoy that “quizy” part of me apologies. Maybe I should just go master in Investigative Journalism. By the way, that’s the only way I know how to play friend; I can’t stand someone I call friend not being the very best of him or herself. To say the least, our friendship is my business. And I don’t fear the Red Card; show it to me and I gracefully walk away.

However, that is not the point I’m up to here. The point is that the results of most of the quizzes I dish out to friends are the same: “Cornel you won’t understand, I’m just too busy for that.” In fact, one of my friends, who is more of a mentor than a friend, had to go the extra mile of letting me into what her typical day looks like, how tough it is being a lawyer, wife of a very busy husband, mother of three, masters and PGDE student… This revelation made me feel really sorry for ever thinking she was being lazy. The good news is that we both came to the realization that she wasn’t that busy after all, that she could pursue her dreams alongside the discharge of her obligations. And she’s on it!

Now, it also got me thinking further on who the busiest human beings on the planet are. Although I can’t be certain about who they are, but my tunic pointed me in the direction of the Catholic Pope Francis and the US President Obama.

About Pope Francis: Every Cardinal who leaves for Rome for the conclave is usually not sure what to expect. He could become Pope. And part of becoming Pope is that you don’t get to return to your home diocese when other Cardinals start returning home; you’re now Bishop of Rome and Successor of St. Peter, and you’re henceforth pinned to the Vatican. Even a trip to your home diocese, which can only come months later, must be recorded as an official trip.

The Pope’s job is a particularly peculiar one: to preserve the 2,000-years-old Christian tradition. One may not understand the enormity of this job unless one thoroughly understands what it means to swim against the ocean current. In a world of sweeping social change and devastating social problems, growing secularism, unequaled moral decadence and religious intolerance, the Pope is in for one hell of a job. And his typical day must be something else.

About President Obama: Getting to the position of No. 1 country on the planet is easier than remaining there. And it is the job of one man to see to that. His name: Barack Obama. If there is one man that most people want to drop dead, it is him. And if there is one country that most people want to disappear from the face of the earth, it is his country, the very country that he’s sworn to protect with his very own life. Seen thus, there is no difference between his life and his country. And his Constitution authorizes him to launch all the nuclear warheads from all the silos containing them from any part of the world and to any part of the world if that is what he must do to keep God’s-Own-Country up and running. His security detail must be so paranoid that those mean looking men around him in black suites and dark glasses have pledged their lives as a ransom for him any time any day. That’s the situation Obama is in; it is this same situation Trump and Mrs. Clinton are currently bargaining for.

I suppose, you now see why I thought Pope Francis and Barack Obama are the busiest on the planet. Don’t be quick to reminding me that their aides number in the thousands. I know that pretty much. But truth be told, occupying such a position where none of those aides but you would take the ultimate responsibility for any mistake that crops up in the line of duty makes the job more difficult, which is why Nigeria’s Buhari got messed up with the budget scandal. And kindly let me know if your schedule beats theirs. However, if we all agree that they’re as busy as I thought, then let’s consider the following about them.

Do you know that one of the first things Pope Francis did was call his shoemaker to inform him that he’s now Pope and wouldn’t be coming back to Argentina any soon? Is that what a busy man should do? That simply reveals that he is not too busy to undermine his relationships. About Obama, he still does the things he loves doing. Visit the White House to find that he doesn’t joke with playing basketball, and he’s never joked with it since he got his first basketball from his father at age 10 or less. And funny Obama is so liberal with his sense of humor any time any day. And Francis and Obama never stopped writing; they’re some of the finest still.

What about you? Did you stop dancing because you got married? Did you stop writing because you’re now a banker? Did you stop swimming because you’re now a priest? As Pope, Johnpaul II asked that the Vatican got him a swimming pool and they did, and he swam every so often. What did you stop doing because you’re now too busy? Are you busier than the Holy Spirit, who though God yet fills the heart of the faithful every single time they ask Him to?

If you’re indeed too busy, then make your case on the comment box. I’m waiting for you.

They say that men are in sizes and life is in phases. This is true. But while we can’t do much about the phases of life, given that every baby passes through, all things being equal, childhood, adolescence, adulthood and eventually turns old someday, we can bargain our sizes. Yes, our daily actions and inactions, choices and decisions are just one sure way of cutting our sizes in life, especially as to whether we turn affluent or wallow in lack. To say the least, success is rarely accidental; it is more of, in Steve Jobs’ words, “connecting the dots” – looking backwards.

I wish to immediately take an exception to any argument that imports the “invisible hand” into the equation; call it ill-fate, karma, or whatever. Of course, these things may be real, but bringing them into the equation has this embarrassing way of messing things up, especially the likelihood of excusing those caught up in the web of the so-called “ill-fate,” and perhaps giving those of unfortunate background a pat on the back. Even at these, we’re masters of our fate, plus we don’t have to let our background pin our back to the ground. But if one insists that the devil has the capacity to crash the party of one’s life, then I like to remind us that we’ve the mandate to resist the devil and he would flee.

It was past six pm yesterday. I’d just finished the day’s exam two hours earlier; stopped by to deliver a package to someone I’d given my word the previous night, and was headed home. Before I knew it, my heart skipped a beat; my heart had seen it before my eyes did. And when my eyes caught up with the pace of my heart, it was an old man lying face-flat by the road. I’m not particular sure if the truck hit him, but the truck was responsible for his warm embrace with the ground. And since my Christ had asked me to go and do likewise the Good Samaritan, I immediately dashed in his direction. Painfully enough, I couldn’t lift him up all by myself because the old man was gross. And then a second and a third help arrived, and we did it together. Until I felt him move his body I feared he’d died, and I’m too grateful to say that the risen Saviour spared his life.

Now, this whole episode got me thinking. It pained me so much that I cried. You know that sort of crying that didn’t require shedding of tears; I spent my long journey home beating my breast in sober reflection on what had just happened. And I asked myself a million and one questions, starting with: “What would old-age look like for me?” Yes, if God doesn’t change his mind, and He’s not a man that He should, I’m sure of old age; He promises to satisfy me with long life, and anyone who believes, too. Other questions were: Why was he out that evening all by himself? Why was he dealing with over-the-counter drugs? That was what he had in his hand. Why wasn’t he in his car with a paid driving behind the steering? Why? Why? Why? It pained me so much that I cried. And it still pains me.

Obinna now calls me a blogger. Though I feel odd in that title, I thought it wise to instructively blog that incidence. And the rationale behind this blog post is so that we don’t get to identify with this man’s story when old age comes around. For God’s sake I’m not being judgmental about the old man, but I’m simply saying that his experience holds some moral lessons for us. Of course, he might have had a car parked at home no thanks to the pump price of petrol, N250 as at the time of the incidence; he might have had a number of people to send on this errand but decided not to bother them, perhaps to know some fresh air; he might have been a patient of one of the finest private hospitals in town and only came over to the local pharmacy to pick up a dosage he ran out of. These are possibilities and I’m aware of them. And so, this post is not so much about that particular old man as much as it is about us who are yet young and would someday get as old as him.

These days I’m not quick to dishing out pieces of advice, especially with regards how to run people’s dawn to dusk. I realized we’re all pretty good at fixing our things. However, I’m insistent that we must bear in mind that someday old age will come around with its many challenges and difficulties. And we stand the chance of spending it at the mercy of Good Samaritans if we don’t consciously and prayerfully plan things out ourselves. Let me quickly let us into the part of the Good Samaritan parable that Jesus didn’t bring in the picture. What if the Levite was the last human being that took the road from Jerusalem to Jericho that day? Simple: the man attacked by robbers and beaten half-dead would have simply died. What am I saying? If we make a plan that leans on the possibility of a Good Samaritan showing up to lend a helping hand, then we should not be in a haste to forget that it is only a possibility. Probability is a better word. Gambling is just about the best word.

And now I’m compelled to leave this piece of advice: DON’T GAMBLE OLD AGE. That’s certainly a really bad deal.