If you were the Governator what would you do?

It is 10:05p.m eastern US time. In 1hr and 56 min. Stanley Tookie Williams as we know him will be no more. Not that I’m perturbed for this brova but one just can’t help to listen in to the arguments generated by his plea for clemency after he was scheduled to be executed for the murder of 4 people back in 1979. Today Governor Arnold Schwazneger a.k.a 'Gorvernator' denied Tookie clemency
I must admit, I took another look into my convictions for this fella. To my surprise too, I found myself scratching my head unable to make a firm stance whether this guys should be fried or let to rot in jail for the rest of his life.
I’m not convinced by his sudden repentance in jail and the fame he achieved after being nominated for Nobel Peace Price because he wrote children’s book with anti-gang messages OR because he stop the Crips gang which he started years ago. There’s nothing he could do that would replace the lives he took.
But a life is a life. When is it right to kill someone? Here’s where my dilemma lies I hope to get your opinions about this issue.
My conviction has always been that anyone who is capable of taking the life of another person should fall to the same fate, period. When you look at Tookie’s issue, who is really qualified to execute another person?
I mean, aren’t the laws of this country founded upon moral values which are guided by our religious faith in God? Isn’t this God’s own part of the deal? At the same time, I’m thinking that shit like this is the right thing to do so that ‘would be murders’ will learn what would befall them if they are caught.

Read More

Gettin' 2 Know You

Mehn! I'm working on a tight deadline here. Bola gave me 24 hours to list my weird habits. Thing is I thought about this all night long...briefly disrupted by my ehem-ehem with ma gurl....Shit, I couldn't come up with 5, just 5 weird habits about me which is weird in itself. Ahh, I think I have an idea on what to do. You know Sister Cleo called me collect last night. I guess I better give her a call. She should be able to tell me a thing or two about moa.

This is what she said about me o:

1. That I am allergic to oyibo chics. Each time I indulge in a one night stand thing with an oyibo chic, it turns out to be a stalking affair. Hold on my phone is ringing. Damn its Amber again. This is her 5th call this morning and its just 8am.

2. I always make the mistake of trusting someone before I get to know the real person. Shit I always get disappointed. But come next person, my hands and my heart are wide open to be hurt again.

3. I hardly attend church service but I can quote the scriptures like I wrote it.

4. Oh yeah, I recall Nneka talking about underwear the other day. Me, I no dey wear dem often o. I prefer to go 'free Willie'.

5. I'm a wild one. Never been committed to anyone; wouldn't have imagined being with a girl for more than a few nights but my girl gat me doing tha dishes now and its been 2 years now. Damn I'm sprung and that shit is weird.


Imma tag:
1. ivyprincess_04
2. Obinna
3. IB
4. ADETOKUNBO MARTINS

Read More

The Policeman is always right

Friends, I strongly believe that the police are always right when it comes to brutality of black people. It is us (black folks) who are always wrong. Allow me to borrow 2Pac Shakur’s poem ‘Liberty Needs Glasses’ to make my point. This may appear contradictory at first but I beg you to read the whole thing:

Liberty Needs Glasses by 2Pac Shakur
excuse me but lady liberty needs glasses
and so does mrs justice by her side
both the broads r blind as bats
stumbling thru the system
justice bumbed into mutulu
and trippin on geronimo pratt
but stepped right over oliver
and his crooked partner ronnie
justice stubbed her big toe on mandela
and liberty was misquoted by the indians
slavery was a learning phase
forgotten without a verdict
while justice is on a rampage
4 endangered surviving black males
i mean really if anyone really valued life
and cared about the masses
they'd take em both 2 pen optical and get 2 pair of glasses

You see, the American social strata thrive on a system infested with people of different race, background and creed. In the end, we have a horde of ideas, and purported egos smack in the middle of justice’s cranium. People on power trip adorned in uniforms assert their own form of justice. One different from the one proscribed by law. Justice is carved out from blind sentiments and preconceived notions.
This is my story: Late in August 2000, I was on my way to Atlanta Georgia from Jacksonville Florida to visit my younger brother after a six-month long military deployment which took me to three continents. At last I was home and I looked forward to seeing my brother. I haven’t seen him since out mother succumbed to breast cancer just 2 days after my birthday.
Soon after I crossed the state boundary into Savannah Georgia, I caught sight of a police car behind me...and then a second appeared not too far behind the first one... and then a third appeared. I pulled over and three cops rushed over to my vehicle pointing their guns at me while they commanded me to keep my hands in their sight.

Cop #1 (gun pointing at me and the safety button off.): “Slowly step out of your vehicle with your hands above your head!”

Me (hands shaky, eyes in bewilderment): I did as I was told.
As soon as I stepped out of the car, I was pulled by shoulders, slammed against my car and he began to frisk me.

Cop#1 (Cop #2 had his gun pointed at me while Cop #3 searched my vehicle): "What’s your name?" "I SAID, WHAT's UR NAME?" he emphasised

Me: Igo W-wordu.

Cop#1: where are you from?

Me: You mean where I’m coming from sir or where I’m from?

Cop#1: Where are you from? You’re not from around here are you?

Me: I’m fr.. ( Cop #2 waved for him to come over to his side of my car where. I was ordered to stay put an not make a move. Cop #2 whispered something to him and the both looked at me briefly).

Cop#1: Let me see your ID card sir. (He ordered as he approached me again).

I handed him my ID card.

Cop#1: So you are in the military?

Me: Yes.

Cop#1: Well you can go now. The reason why we pulled you over is that there was an armed robbery at a gas station 2-miles behind and the description fits you. The only difference is that the suspect is about 40 years old.

At the time, I was 21 years old!
I guess the police officer who search my vehicle saw my white Navy uniform in the back seat.
Thining about that insident now, I often wondered why we are so different in the eyes of our fellow black brothers yet the policeman never seems to see those differences.I often wondered why black folks can’t stick together. I mean we find every little excuse be it skin tone, the shape of our heads or lips to create differences amongst ourselves. We call our brothers “Akata” – son of a slave. Brovas over here call us monkey, laugh at our accent and ridicule our lifestyle.
Although the brutality mate out to black people can be wrong, so-so wrong but the policeman is always right for one thing - in his eyes we are all black people. An important fact which we ignore as we ridicule ourselves in the face or adversery.
We are all BLACKS. Not Africans or African-American; not 20 or 40 year old African American male. We are all blacks to be subjected to their form of justice. AND THEY ARE DAMN RIGHT. We are Black people.
See, until we begin on the path of self realization, we may never attain self respect and dignity that all men of all color deserve. Come when Lady liberty and her sister Justice do get their prescription glasses, it will be the same of the old shit.

Read More

27

I’m 27 18 seems like yesterday and 27 seemed like eternity Yesterday seems like yesterday when we used to dance to ‘O-P-P’ and style our haircuts like Bobby brown.
18 was when Toni Braxton wanted to 'Breath again' and Shabba Ranks was the 'Champion lover'.

18 seems like its just gone by a second ago when we starched our school uniforms and wore our long white socks up to our dry ashy knees
only to be soiled again
when the bus conductor beckons- “Aba road! You dey go?”
Breakfast used to be round bread and a cup of Bonvita. Lunch was moin-moin and chin chin washed down with 3 Naira pepsi

Our lips were chaffed from cruel hammattan weather.
Our school was in class rooms with broken windows yet wholesome enough to contain our enduring hopes for the future.

Hmm…18 seems like yesterday when ‘Arizona Classic jean’ was the latest fashion and Rendezvous or Mr. Biggs was our favorite spot.

18 seemed like yesterday when we were ‘JAMB bites’ hoping to get into ‘UNI’ 18 was our present day and 27 was our hope-future seemily far far away.

Now that I’m here, what’s next? Maybe 62

Read More

4-1-9 – There're logs in your eyes too!

So I swindled you for your little money
How different I’m I from you?
You fox, you!
Clad in designers suite
hiding in your phony shadow
when the real you is just like me.
Your oil pipes like giant leeches
suck my land to barren.
You bait my leaders with tantalizing gifts just so you can
point your aim at my natural environment.
Sewage and crude oil waste fill what used to be pure water spring.
My nostrils are clogged with plums from oil wells.
My lungs deplete with toxic gases.
Joel and Amanda are dead from taking your drugs
so is Olu and Akwugo
You kill your own children and everyone you can lay your bitter twisted lies on
for the love of money.
But you hide behind the laws you bought with your money
Just so you can code me a 4-1-9.
Tell me-just tell me
How different I’m I from you?

Read More