The CJ Factor

The evolution of education is inevitable. Classroom learning is fast becoming obsolete as the information age rapidly advances at the palm of our hands. Anyone with a smartphone can access the greatest library ever known to man and can learn just about anything, sitting on their couch, as long as they can read, remain connected, dedicated and disciplined. Of course that last bit is the tricky part as it is as well in the classroom setting. There is no use in me going over the great possibilities that abound on the internet as far as education is concerned. What interests me is the question of how the future of education in this part of the world is shaping up. According to the NCC, there are over 91 million  Nigerians connected to the internet. That is around 48 percent of our population with access, albeit most often at snail speed. Yet you can't help but be astonished at the immensity of the potentials if more direction can be provided to speed up the integration of internet res

I must say from the perspective of a Nigerian, it is rather fascinating how  there is a fairly clear divide between what you call the Left and Right. At the risk of sounding hyperbolic, our political fabric is not comprised of Left and Right views. Intrestingly most of the subjects of the ideologies which constitutes left or right views in Nigeria are taboo. Religion is forced down your throat from childhood. We build everything on it and then we place it on top of everything and any questioning of it is met with deliverance services and ostracization if your demons of curiousity persist. We do not discuss same sex anything, in fact same sex interraction is a crime punishable by 14 years inprisonment and Same sex marriage is a capital offence punishable by death so that tells you all you need to know about how we treat the subject. This is not to say that we do not have gays amongst us. I would provide statistics to back this up but nobody would even dare to do the research; cases of s

I am in the backseat of a Volkswagen wagon on the highway from Zungeru. I just opened my last bag of chips and plugged my earphones to Kid Kudi singing The Prayer. The road is proving unsurprisingly thrilling and subtly revealing the reasons behind its pull on dedicated and professional travelers. It is very easy to get sucked into the love of the wind and occasional dust in your face. The freedom of being in a place where you are nobody. The glimmer in the eyes of the locals when they witness your astonishment at simple elements of their daily lives. They also respond with hostility when you try to objectify them, as in their physical bodies. They don't mind you taking pictures of their landscape or the livestock but you don't just take a picture of Almajiri boys hurdled by the roadside on the highway to Kontagora. They will throw rocks at you. Can't have everything right?

Soon all this will be over, all this talk and whisper. This is my time and I will not spend another day in wait. The streets are clear as we move through them. No police, no traders, no beggars or tourists. The streets are empty for us. There is nothing in our way except for the stray goats and local birds who judge us with their melodious chirps as we make our way out into the town. Soon it will all be over. Mercy and Grace are both behind me. I cannot see them but I know that they are there. Baba is in front of me. He will be most  pleased when all this is over. He says it all the time. This is what needs to happen for Goodness sake.  A year ago I came here afraid but I don't know the meaning of fear anymore. It came some nights in the  form of loud explosions and some nights it was a silent shadow. Some days it was the thought of  going home, on other days it was the dread of forgetting where home is. This morning it is nothing. One year later and the world still carries on,