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The day alcohol showed me shégè

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1 year ago

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Tunde Odesola
Tunde Odesola

The day alcohol showed me shégè
(1)

Tunde Odesola

(Published in The PUNCH, on Friday, January 10, 2025)

I told this true-life story to my children a long time ago. But I censored its indecent climax because of their young age. Today, I’m going to tell it in full because they have come of age. I don’t mean this story to be a comedy. I mean it to be a piece over which guardians, parents, teachers, mentors and all can chew the cud and consider which tactic is more effective in child upbringing: spare the rod or spank the child?

Growing up under my parents’ roof, the Holy Bible was worshipped. If it mistakenly falls down from your hands, you must fast for a day. That was the unwritten law enforced by my mother. Every child owned a Bible and a bed. Your Bible must be under or beside your pillow, and your bed must be neat because father and mother drummed it into our ears that cleanliness was next to godliness.

A verse in the Book of Proverbs 13:24 that says, “Spare the rod and spoil the child,” was a refrain within the family. Its corollary in the same Book of Proverbs 22:15 (New Living Translation) says, “A youngster’s heart is filled with foolishness, physical discipline will drive it far away.” In its version, God’s Word Translation of the Bible says, “Foolishness is firmly attached to a child’s heart. Spanking will remove it far from him,” and the New King James version says, “Foolishness is bound up in the heart of a child; The rod of correction will drive it far from him.”

But my literate parents will never quote any of the English interpretations. They prefer the Yoruba version which talks about the MADNESS in the heart of a child and the need for exorcising it with a cane: “Àyà omodé nì wèrè dì sí, egba ló máa túu.” I think they quote the Yoruba version to amplify the lodging of madness in a child’s mind and justify their deployment of the cane.

Therefore, canes were part of our home’s furnishings but many of the canes vanished into the thin air without me knowing anything about how they disappeared, I swear.

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In the Holy Quran, Prophet Mohammed (SAW) orders the beating of a child for purposes of correction.

Because I was growing like a rampant corn stalk in raining season, mother soon abandoned caning me as each flogging episode was akin to wrestling that left her with body aches. Then, she employed ìfótí olóòyì aka brain-resetting slaps but when I blocked her slaps repeatedly with my bony arms and her wrists hurt, she jettisoned that idea, too. She finally resorted to verbal chastisement and threat, “You wait till your father returns from work and see if I won’t report you to him.” And she always made good her threat.

My father was predictable. The first thing he does when he comes back from work is go on his knees and pray. The second thing he does is get a bath. Food is the third. If my mother told him about my sins as soon as he got home, he would order me to stoop down while he got a bath and ate. As a child, I used to think the punishment was called ‘stood down’.

It’s the foolish that gets famished when fasting, goes a Yoruba proverb. When my father was out of sight, I would sit on the floor and listen attentively to pick up his footfalls. If my mother passed by and saw me observing the punishment in breach, she would complain loudly so my father could hear I wasn’t doing what he ordered me to do. Double wàhálà.

At times, when I rush to bed before nightfall in order to evade the arrival of my father, my mother would barge into my room without knocking, upon the arrival of her husband, and peel my blanket off me, announcing with relish, “Daddy e ti de. O n pe e” – “Your daddy is back, he’s calling you.”

To picture the state of my mind whenever I ‘stood down’ waiting for sentencing is to imagine the mind of a goat cornered by a lion. I was the stubborn goat, my father was the lion.

That was the kind of house that produced me. A house of five male children and a female. A house that requites good deeds with rewards and punishes wrongdoing severely. I remember everything clearly. I remember we, the children, had Chopper bicycles. I remember plucking out my eyelashes and putting them on my head as a fetish for my parents to forget my wrongdoings and not punish me. Sometimes, it worked; sometimes, it didn’t. In all this, I always remembered the son of whom I am.

But, reminiscing on my secondary school days, I arrived at the intersection of doubt as to my long-held belief that sparing the rod spoils the child. When you’re raised in my kind of home, the tendency is for you to agree that the use of the rod was divine and productive.

However, I have some doubts today. Today, I’d rather a cane was kept at home, used rarely, while moral suasion took centre stage in child upbringing.

I lay the validity of my argument on this story below.

At the Archbishop Aggey Memorial Secondary School, Mushin, we were four bright friends – Akeem Adigun, Akinade Ayodeji, Jide Oladimeji and my humble self.

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We had some other friends who were not bright. When examination approached, some of my struggling friends would ask me a favour – to sit with me during the exam period. But only one student could sit beside me in an examination. So, to grant their requests, I devised a plan that we all should sit in the same row, with a bright student pairing with a dull student.

In the early 80s, there was an Italian wrestling duo – Gino Brito and Dino Bravo – called the ‘Love Brothers’ of the International Wrestling Federation fame. We adopted their name, Love Brothers.

My house was a favourite rendezvous for the Love Brothers because it offered eat-in food and grocery takeaways from my mother. One day, we carried our sàárà food offering past the mosque when we went to Akeem’s house.

Akeem was living with his foster parents in a three-storey building right at Olorunsogo bus stop, Mushin. We all pass by his house to and fro school.

On this particular ‘ojo buruku esu gbomimu’ day, I think someone said he wanted to drink water. Instead of waiting downstairs for Akeem to go and bring water, we all ran to the topmost floor.

Instead of allowing Akeem to bring water from their tall refrigerator, some of us ran towards it, each curious rat wanting to behold the occupants of the refrigerator. When Akeem opened the fridge, we saw water, food and more.

We saw rows and rows of assorted beers imprisoned in the bowel of the refrigerator, begging to be set free. And we did set some beers free together with the pots of rice and soup in the refrigerator. We all departed happily thereafter.

The next morning, I saw Akeem in front of the assembly ground while students were singing devotional hymns. He wasn’t standing alone. His foster mother was beside him. Right behind them were some fearsome male teachers. Akeem was staring at the floor.

After the day’s announcements were made and the national anthem and pledge were rendered, students sang as they marched to their various classrooms. The first to go were Class One students of various arms, followed by Classes Two and Three students.

The die is cast. I watched him pick out his fellow criminals – Jide, Akin etc – as they were marching to class. Quickly, I sneaked from the rows of the knicker-wearing junior classes, where I belonged, to Class Four row, which was trousers-wearing.

Luckily for me, some Class Four students wear shorts even though the right uniform for them to wear was a light blue shirt over dark blue trousers.

Life and its absurdities. The dream of every Class Three male student was to wear trousers when they got to Class Four, yet some Class Four male students refused to wear trousers when the handle of the machete was in their hands. Left-Right! Leff-Rai!! I marched with senior students past Akeem who wasn’t expecting me in Class Four.

After escaping the assembly crackdown, I fled to the school farm. Akeem’s co-conspirators, who were not ferreted out at the assembly ground, were picked up in the classroom. Although no bounty was placed on my head, a manhunt was declared for me while I nestled under cocoyam leaves on the school farm, pretending to be reading.

Intelligence soon reached the staffroom and a crack team of hefty seniors was dispatched to arrest me dead or alive. To date, I do not know the Judas who sold me out. When emissaries from the staffroom stormed the school farm, I submitted myself like a lamb, and they led me to Golgotha.

To be continued.

Email: tundeodes2003@yahoo.com

Facebook: @Tunde Odesola

X: @Tunde_Odesola

The day alcohol showed me shégè

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The world dislikes the weak, by Hakeem Baba-Ahmed

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6 days ago

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March 3, 2026

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Former Northern Elders Forum spokesperson, Hakeem Baba-Ahmed
Former Northern Elders Forum spokesperson, Hakeem Baba-Ahmed

The world dislikes the weak, by Hakeem Baba-Ahmed

The world dislikes the weak, by Hakeem Baba-Ahmed

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Our children must be kept away from Obi’s mob

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1 week ago

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February 28, 2026

By

Vincent Akanmode
Vincent Akanmode

Our children must be kept away from Obi’s mob

Any Nigerian with an iota of conscience would be miffed at the content of a video that trended on the social media during the week. It was the motion picture of three children whose age ranged between 10 and 12 professing to be supporters of former Anambra State governor and presidential candidate of the Labour Party (LP) in the 2023 presidential election, Mr. Peter Obi. Oblivious in their pristine innocence that they were being initiated into the triple crimes of lying, cheating and forgery by those who contrived the issuance of voter cards to them, they heartily flaunted the cards meant only for adults above 18 years, threatening to vote Obi in the 2027 elections like they did three years ago.

Instructively, it was Obi’s supporters, led by the then Chief Spokesperson for the Labour Party Presidential Campaign Council, Dr. Yunusa Tanko, who embarked on a peaceful protest in Abuja against alleged registration of underage voters in the build-up to the 2023 elections.

During the campaign rallies that preceded the 2023 elections, the world had watched with bated breath as a 15-year-old boy identified as Alabi Quadri jumped into the road arms outstretched as Obi’s convoy approached during a campaign rally in Lagos. I was personally alarmed at the stupidity of young man’s action, seeing the possibility of him being hit by the advancing convoy of vehicles. But while I thought it was the dumbest act anyone could muster, Obi, rather than rebuke Quadri’s foolery, alighted from his vehicle, walked towards the scallywag and embraced him in the full glare of cameras. Obviously, the Labour Party presidential candidate was in full agreement that the rascal did very well staking his life for his (Obi’s) presidential ambition.

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Obi, who had earlier prided himself with not giving shishi (a dime), reportedly rewarded Quadri’s foolhardiness with an unspecified sum of money, which later put him into trouble with his colleagues and earned him a stay in Kirikiri prison for about three months after an alleged frame-up for armed robbery by some thugs in his Amukoko (Lagos) neighbourhood, who were said to be angry that Quadri did not deem them fit for a slice of Obi’s cake. They handed him over to the police, who kept him in custody until some human rights activists intervened and secured his release.

Not surprisingly, many other admirers of Obi celebrated Quadri’s display of obtuseness as a heroic act worthy of emulation by anyone worth the helm of the presidential aspirant’s black gown. Little wonder the teenager’s example has since caught on among his followers with other dumb actions and utterances. Last week, another youthful follower of the mob took the malady to the precincts of blasphemy, saying that Jesus Christ would lose if he contests an election with Obi in Nigeria. And rather than condemnation, this reckless delivery has enjoyed the approval of many Obidient members in a country where religion is as sensitive as the mimosa plant.

And before the dust generated by the sacrilegious utterance could settle, another teenager identified as Mc Aha from Imo State said he would gladly sacrifice his father and mother if that was all Obi needed to become the President of Nigeria. Commendably, the teenager’s obviously embarrassed father did not allow his son’s misguided utterance to go without a consequence. Convinced that the teenager’s outburst bordered more on crime than insanity, he ignored psychiatrists and psychologists and promptly handed his errant son over to the police.

I felt a sense of vindication on learning about the young man’s utterance, because a day or two earlier, I had been viciously attacked on Facebook for sarcastically posting that I once thought of becoming an Obidient but was discouraged by the long and tortuous process of having to undergo a surgery that would remove my brain and replace it with sawdust!

The question then arises: what exactly is the Obidient movement teaching our youths? What impact do Obi and his followers hope to make on the impressionable minds of innocent young boys and girls with the negative messages being passed to them by their mostly reckless, aggressive and abrasive older colleagues? A group that has turned discourtesy into an art. A group that has no place for the African culture of respect for the elder. A group to which age means nothing but sheer number. They address the elderly the same manner they do their apprentices and attack statesmen and eminent public office holders with the venom of a snake. A group whose leader is making a career of de-marketing his country and presenting his land of birth as the heaviest burden the rest of the world bears. What impact?

Our children must be kept away from Obi’s mob

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History and psychoanalysis of El-Rufai’s troubles with Ribadu – Farooq Kperogi

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1 week ago

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February 28, 2026

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Kperogi is a renowned columnist and United States-based Professor of Journalism 
Farooq Kperogi

History and psychoanalysis of El-Rufai’s troubles with Ribadu – Farooq Kperogi

Given the depth and intensity of the friendship they cultivated over decades, many people are befuddled by why the personal conflict between former Kaduna State governor Nasir El-Rufai and National Security Adviser Nuhu Ribadu has burst into the open with such virulence. As I’ll show, it’s inspired by deep-seated envy, ego trip and bruised self-construal.

Both were born in 1960 (with El-Rufai being about nine months older), graduated from ABU in the 1980s (with El-Rufai graduating three years earlier), have a reputation for boldness and outspokenness, and were stars of the Olusegun Obasanjo administration.

From the outside looking in, it appears to me that although both men had mutual admiration for each other, the scale tilted a little in favor of El-Rufai. I say this for at least two reasons.

One, according to a recent social media post by presidential aide Gimba Kakanda, who appears to be close to both men, Ribadu named his son in honor of El-Rufai. I am not aware that El-Rufai requited Ribadu’s gesture even though he has had boys. If my assumption is wrong, I apologize. If it’s right, that bespeaks a deep, unspoken, but nonetheless significant inequality in admiration.

Second, on page 358 of El-Rufai’s 2013 autobiography titled The Accidental Public Servant, which has made the social media rounds, El-Rufai revealed that when the late Umaru Musa Yar’Adua sought Ribadu’s support to be president and said Obasanjo had already endorsed him, Ribadu rebuffed Yar’Adua, saying, “Well, Obasanjo has not told me, and as far as the presidency is concerned, I have my candidate for president, and that is Nasir El-Rufai. I am going to have to speak to Obasanjo about this.”

So, El-Rufai internalized the asymmetry in their admiration for each other. He took for granted that Ribadu thought higher of him than he did of Ribadu. There can be no greater endorsement of this fact than Ribadu’s perception that El-Rufai was the best Nigerian qualified to succeed Obasanjo.

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However, in 2011, when Bola Ahmed Tinubu was shopping for a young northern candidate to fly the flag of the ACN, he commissioned a public opinion poll to determine which northern candidate enjoyed the most national acceptance, according to Akin Osuntokun’s February 20, 2026, Arise News interview.

Osuntokun not only worked with both men during the Obasanjo presidency, he is also friends with them. Plus, I’ve heard this story from several people close to El-Rufai and Ribadu, but this is the first time it’s out in the open.

Osuntokun’s revelation that the national poll showed Nuhu Ribadu with a significantly higher rating (about 45 percent) compared to Nasir El-Rufai (around seven percent) is consistent with what I’ve heard.

Based on that result, Tinubu backed Ribadu’s candidacy within the ACN. It also marked the beginning of Ribadu’s relationship with Tinubu.

El-Rufai’s exaggerated self-construal of his superiority over Ribadu was badly shattered, and he couldn’t take it. But I am not surprised by the outcome of the poll. It occurred at the height of Ribadu’s popularity in the country.

As I pointed out in a past column, my own paternal uncle, a UK-educated health professional, named his son Ribadu, not Nuhu, in honor of Nuhu Ribadu’s exploits at the EFCC. When I told him Ribadu is the name of a town in Adamawa State where Nuhu hails from, he was surprised. We still laugh over it.

El-Rufai’s ego was badly bruised because he had a hard time accepting that Ribadu, who didn’t think of himself as presidential material in 2007 and who instead thought El-Rufai should succeed Obasanjo, should be considered worthier of being president in 2011 by more Nigerians. As a result, the previously impregnable walls of friendship between them began to collapse irretrievably.

By 2015, El-Rufai rode on the coattails of Muhammadu Buhari to become governor of Kaduna State. According to people familiar with the dynamics of their relationship, El-Rufai studiously used his influence in the Buhari government to exclude Ribadu.

But by 2023, when Tinubu became president, Ribadu got his groove back. El-Rufai believes that the rejection of his ministerial nomination by the Senate on “security” grounds was inspired by Ribadu, who was retaliating for El-Rufai’s own underhanded exclusion of Ribadu during the Buhari presidency.

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Most regular people with no hangups would take it in their stride and wait for their “time.” But El-Rufai isn’t a “regular” person. He must be in on the action or everything must be scattered. So, he set out to do at least three things to get at Ribadu: 1. Show that Ribadu is dangerous and vindictive. 2. Show that he is incompetent. 3. Show that he is a craven fellow who can’t return, much less match, El-Rufai’s lethal rhetorical salvos.

These points overlap. If you are vindictive but are afraid of being seen as such, then you’re a coward. If you’re a coward and you control the security of the country, then you’re also incompetent. If you don’t respond to my personal attacks, it’s because you fear that I’ll reveal more damaging information and also lack the rhetorical and intellectual firepower to fight back, which harkens back to your fitness for the job of protecting the country.

Of course, El-Rufai knows that Ribadu is anything but a coward. In The Accidental Public Servant, El-Rufai recounts an incident from their undergraduate days at Ahmadu Bello University to illustrate what he presents as Ribadu’s boldness.

According to El-Rufai, Ribadu was confronted by an armed robber who pointed a gun at him. Instead of complying or retreating, Ribadu slapped the robber and challenged him.

El-Rufai told the anecdote as an example of Ribadu’s fearlessness and impulsive self-confidence during their student years and to sketch Ribadu’s temperament early on, suggesting that Ribadu’s later public persona as an anti-corruption crusader was consistent with traits visible even as an undergraduate.

In his only public reaction to El-Rufai’s constant personal attacks, Ribadu was conciliatory and even-tempered. “Despite the incessant baiting and attacks, I have never spoken ill of Nasir on record anywhere,” he wrote on February 24, 2025. “This is out of respect for our past association and our respective families. I will not start today.”

El-Rufai’s supporters read the statement, whose grace should have disarmed anyone, as evidence of cowardice. But had he attacked El-Rufai back in the fashion that El-Rufai savaged him, the public, which tends to side with the underdog (in this case anyone outside the orbit of the reigning government), would see El-Rufai as the victim and Ribadu as the villain.

This gave El-Rufai the illusion that he was winning the war and led him to dig in even deeper with that self-sabotaging Arise News interview, which overstepped the bounds of reasonableness and landed him in the hot water he is in now.

In spite of people’s natural predilection to sympathize with the underdog, outside of partisan political circles, El-Rufai’s troubles aren’t eliciting the profusion of support, outrage and empathy anyone else would have received. And it’s because he is being given a taste of his own medicine.

For those who want to sympathize with him, which is perfectly legitimate, I leave you with these words he uttered on January 22, 2012, at the Yar’Adua Center, Abuja, at a presentation at the T2T (Transformed To Transform) Nigeria Conference for Youth Corps Members:

“We have no politics of public interest or public good. And you know the politicians proudly tell you that politics is about interest. If they don’t get what they want, they’re ready to collapse the system.

“Every military coup in Nigeria’s history was engineered by civilians. They have lost elections, right or wrongly. If a politician contests for a position and he doesn’t get it, he’ll not support a party member that got the nomination.

“He would rather move to the opposition and ensure that the person that defeated him fair and square loses the election. So, we have a political culture where the primacy of personal interest trumps everything else.

“Now, what is the difference between human beings and animals? So it is with most Nigerian politicians: everyone for himself, no one for the country, no one even for the party. It’s an interesting political culture. And it’s ingrained. Politicians believe that is the way, that is politics, and to change it will take quite an effort. This is a problem.”

History and psychoanalysis of El-Rufai’s troubles with Ribadu – Farooq Kperogi

Kperogi is a renowned Nigerian columnist and United States-based Professor of Journalism.

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