Pa Ikhide Unravels That Despicable Human Trafficking Yarn

Trust, but verify

One thing we must never lose regardless of our experiences and how we age is our sense of curiosity, a questioning mind, a precociousness that is adventurous, the boldness to challenge the conventional and the ability to maintain a modicum of healthy scepticism.

This is where I am wont to commend Pa Ikhide (Ikhide R. Ikheloa) who has singlehandedly blown apart the foundation of that human trafficking story supposedly written by Tobore Mit Ovuorie for the Premium Times Nigeria in collusion with ZAM Chronicle in the Netherlands. Much of this discussion has been on Pa Ikhide’s Facebook page.

Blog - Opinion: My Views About That Human Trafficking Exclusive

No one is disputing the truth in the criminality and the atrocity of human trafficking where lives are wasted in petty street thievery, sex trade and organ harvesting, but one should be sure of who has experienced this situation and who is telling the story.

Ghost-writing is no crime

As it has transpired, from Pa Ikhide’s investigations of Tobore Mit Ovuorie and her social media activities, when she was supposedly undercover being trafficked in 2013 and the many questions left unanswered with many of us being carried away on the sentimentality of the narrative to the detriment of the veracity of storyteller, we can very well assume we have been conned.

I do not think Tobore Mit Ovuorie would have been less celebrated if she had ghost-written the gory tales of people who escaped the clutches of those rotten human traffickers, but to have constructed a fantastic thriller of a fictional tale around herself as the main actor in a drama where she was at risk of losing her life is not only dishonest and contemptible, words really do fail me.

Reputations like dung

The supporting cast that appeared to give credence to this travesty are no less beyond repudiation and excoriation. Premium Times with its many award-winning laurels was ready to stake its well-earned reputation on giving this fantasy a veneer of truthfulness by attacking sceptics when it should have addressed the questions, sombrely, honestly and honourably.

ZAM Chronicle with its under-the-railroad offices in Amsterdam has not only been dishonourable, but lent itself to propagating the stereotype of African savagery whilst pretending to be more concerned for the dignity and reputation of Africans in their ambivalence between revelation and concealment – nothing could be more sickening than false empathy.

Thank you, Pa Ikhide

Again, we must thank Pa Ikhide who did not wane or shrink in his tenacity to get to the bottom of this matter, when a majority of us had been taken for a long rocky emotional ride that deprived the real victims of human trafficking of their voice and their story, because some unscrupulous, dishonest, reprehensible, ignominious and detestable journalists and newspapers had an eye for self-serving awards to the exclusion of others.

Shame on all of them and for those whose stories you stole for your selfish ends, you are no better than the human traffickers, their blood is on your heads as it is on the heads of the traffickers. Shame on you.

The horns of a rampaging dilemma

My home, a sty

I returned home from work and this was the first time I saw my house in such a state, I mustered the depths of calm and patience to take in the sight.

I have a guest, a friend of about 15 years who had since returned to Africa from Europe and is one whose peers hold in quite high regard, he is invited to present a paper in Brussels.

My bathroom sink had underwear which first looked misplaced till it was apparent that it had some excrement in it - wrapped it in a bag and binned it - my toilet was in such a state with brown stuff all over the place, walls, sink, floor and toilet bowl, I must have walked into a horror movie.

I have a cleaner, but this could not wait, I was down to the shops, got every cleaning disinfectant on the shelves and was on all fours scrubbing and rubbing - very annoying - my guest just ignored the whole thing - at least since yesterday he has been quite unwell - I have been told.

Oh my, what happened?

Then my kitchen, a casserole I had made the night before was exposed; the serving spoon on the floor, some of the stuff strewn over the table and floor, and surely, this is not on.

The kitchen sink and table tops red stained, probably with wine, when I noticed that in the space of 9 hours when I was at work, a bottle of port, one of sherry, a magnum of champagne had been consumed - makes me wonder, is that enough to make it seem my home has been hit by a cyclone?

Now, whilst I like fine wines, my consumption of alcohol is minuscule, even if I had to take a wine-pairing multiple course dinner, my consumption would not come to more than two glasses of wine and is quite enough.

It is a matter of principle and considered safety that I never drink alone, I have a well-stocked cellar but only for when occasion presents itself.

Now, for two nights since my friend returned from Brussels, he has ensconced himself in the bedroom without any useful interaction.

Familiarity has begotten contempt

There is no doubt that the friendship is being treated with utter contempt, I can handle that, however, I do wonder if I should express my disappointment, check him into a hotel for his last night or endure what is just a wallowing sow for another 36 hours?

Really, I have never been met with such a trying situation before and I do wonder if my friend does need to seek help for a seeming drink problem which might be contributing to the unfamiliar and unwarranted abuse of my hospitality - I am of the good mind of making all the wine bottles in my wine cupboard disappear before the sun is up.

Much more has happened, but those I can handle, this, well, I either need more patience or a rage of absolutely righteous indignation.

We can agree that no such invitation would ever be extended to my friend again, that is if this episode would survive our long acquaintance.

I am caught on the horns of a rampaging dilemma.