Shaped by a world of champions

We need champions

What I cannot deny is the need for champions in your life, people who see the potential and the best in you, long before you realise you could be anything. Even more so are the people who believe in you, who encourage you, give you the support to begin to believe in yourself, and offer the scarce opportunities of access and privilege to attain what might have at one time been totally impossible.

In my life, I have had many champions, out of all sorts of persuasions, the people who pulled you up when you were down and those who firm the foundations of the platforms on which you stand, you should also not forget those who do not want you to stand still resting on your laurels, they want to see you progress and they try to remove the obstacles that seem to pre-empt you.

Create your vision

The need for a vision for yourself that you can begin to think and to dream and to work towards realising is one of the biggest challenges an individual faces. How do you begin a journey to a destination you cannot even visualise yourself getting to? While an accident of good fortune might happen, we cannot live by accidents and make that a purpose for life.

Today, I remember one of the greatest champions of my life, Cash Soyinka, an uncle and relation on both side of my family who almost 40 years ago became my guardian and mentor. He led by example rather than by instruction. He took me into confidences while nurturing my voice of expression and sense of adventure in ways I could never have imagined, yet in such impactful ways.

Most of all, he allowed me the courage of my convictions, obviously, I had to convince him of why I was making a decision, even as he shepherded me with insight to be more rational than emotional. He passed on three years ago and he is sorely missed.

Take on the mantel

When another friend and mentor, John Coll, passed on at the end of 2013, I did wonder who would champion me in the issues of life. However, someone else suggested that the torch had been passed on to me to champion, mentor, and encourage others, in the same way that I have benefited from the counsel of those who came before.

Much as I strive to live up to this standard, I know I am hardly close to the standard of those who have stood up, stood for, and stood in for me. I will not relent, I hope to get better. My best friend of over 40 years is another who a few have indicated, I could never be impugned, like I could never do any wrong. I have many wrongs, but I am given allowances and forgiven easily for my failings, and I am grateful that none of my failings are used against me.

The partner champion

However, daily, it is Brian that champions me at every moment, the way I am loved so deeply and unconditionally, the way he believes in me, encourages me, and strengthens me even when I seem to lack the resolve. He sees possibilities with facility, even in the midst of limited resources and straitened circumstances, he is a believer.

I do not acknowledge this enough nor is as appreciated to the extent that it has been valuable. I do not exist in isolation; I am a product of the numerous investments of champions that have willed me on beyond where my sights and abilities could carry me. I am grateful for having had the tutelage of champions and the enduring support of those who uphold me daily.

Dreamscape: Was this old Manchester?

Back to the yesterdays of yesteryear

The wonder of dreamland and what one can discover in almost hallucinatory repose is an interesting spectacle. The other night, I walked by the University of Manchester and landed in a picturesque landscape more than 40 years ago, buildings I recognised and things that had changed.

A distinct Manchester Business School sponsored by a large conglomerate, its hoarding atop the school, so unmistakable, yet I forget. Buildings that have been replaced, old in Victorian red brick or new with the facade of brutalist architecture in stark concrete, I was somewhere I knew and did not know.

A picturesque idyll, I recall

Oxford Road was a narrow and busy tree-lined avenue, looking like a forlorn escape from the city to a remote location that you might only visit on business or purpose alone. A village road with cottages from a bygone time, now lost to the sepia of a picture found in the attic of a long-gone ancestor’s home.

I walked up the nondescript pavement that looked more like a grassy verge, dusty rather than macadamised, dust swept up by the heat of summer, all the way to St Peter's Square that had the semblance of a motor park terminus bustling with the energy of an African city station.

In the wonder of dreams

It was full of confusion, I could not find the bus I needed to board, if I could determine where I was even going. I wandered around listless and thinking about why I consciously felt I had travelled back in time from a more familiar present.

Indeed, Manchester was different back then, before I ever came to live in Manchester, but between my dream and the reality, I cannot vouch for truth in my dreams. I guess it just brought many memories to play and create a dreamscape of a time it was best I never experienced. The power of imagination in dreams sends you to times and places you never knew existed.

Autism: Do you see what I see?

Taken at Woolworths in Rosebank, Johannesburg - February 2019.

It was not spelt right

Look at the picture above and have you noticed something? This is a regular conversation I have with Brian when he comments about my ability to see things others do not see. In my own view, I am left quite surprised it is not that obvious.

I cannot tell how it is that I see things in patterns, especially when it comes to words, there is an expected order and when things are seemingly not in that order, I notice. That is not to say I do not commit the same mistakes. What I have written and what I perceive is there could be two different things. It comes with the territory.

However, the number of times I have heard people say, “It’s only you that would see that.”, would suggest there is something, a gift or some irregularity that I possess demonstrated in these observations I cannot seem to keep to myself.

Sensory observations out of pattern

It was only two Sundays ago when in our church Sung Eucharist pamphlet where the credits for the hymns were written, the year of birth and death of one of the credited showed he had lived for 165 years. Who reads that? Well, I do and I noticed before I showed it to the dean after the service.

Yet, it is not just patterns in words, I sometimes hear sounds out of place even if my hearing is not that keen and for someone who has a lazy eye, the keenness of my vision along with the inability to use stereo vision to judge distance and speed is quite interesting. It just seems anything that is out of place jumps out to me.

I sometimes wonder if I should ignore these things, then, these observations can make for interesting documentation or conversation. I love the sight of the unusual, the irregular, the strange, the abnormal, the distinct, or maybe, the invisible to others. Somewhere on that spectrum of autism, the strange is just quite normal. It is the way we see our world.

Did you see it?

If you did not see what was strange about the picture above, Brian swears I saw it within a minute of getting to the restaurant and trying to place an order. My Instagram post about it appears below:

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Akin Akintayo (@instaforakin)

The atrocity of bloviation in futility

They lower your horizon

I learnt to be wary of people limiting your horizon by their vision of you or your circumstances. They speak with a sense of concern, but it is more for their own benefit than it is for yours. If your fortunes are elsewhere, pursue it with vigour. The apparent patriotism of one even more successful than you at home that does not facilitate the achievement of yours is detrimental to you whichever way you look at it.

My experience with this was on an encounter over 30 years ago with an old schoolmate who had done quite well academically just when I was nursing ambitions of going abroad. He, without hesitation challenged the premise then posited that there was much more in Nigeria for me to exploit and achieve than to apparently escape to The United Kingdom to waste my time.

Let the wind blow through

I did not challenge any of his assertions because it was not necessary, this was someone I had not seen in years who suddenly arrogated to himself a knowledge of my situation and circumstances with the view from his apparently more settled and successful status he could dictate and design my trajectory for life and purpose.

Fleeting moments at times should be fleeting rather than life-changing, the power to make it so remains primarily yours and you should refuse to cede it without a bruising fight where you should emerge to the victor. You are in the market of persuasion, but also, the kind of persuasion that should come with commensurate and effective action.

It is comment without commitment

My friend was not offering to take on any responsibility for facilitation in any direction he was projecting, rather, the inadvertent dampening of my vision which effectively was at play if I allowed it was a vain effort to maintain hierarchies where good advice and mentoring would have given me wings to fly and the wind beneath those wings to soar. You come to realise that just because a path has served someone well, it is not the universal roadmap to success.

Invariably, there will always be people who will thrive and prosper in Nigeria just as there are others who need to exit the country to other lands to find their own path and opportunities that seemed to elude them in Nigeria. Ultimately, neither the stayer nor the leaver is more patriotic, we all have an affinity for Nigeria regardless of how long we have been away and our passion for its peace and prosperity is rarely diminished because whether at home or abroad, we are affected.

Chart your own course and except if the alternate view is ready to invest fully in time and resources to alter that course, it is at best the atrocity of bloviation in futility, do not give it or the person any heed and move on. 

Held like Bernadette would do

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Messy clues to play with

There was a line of a verse from lyrics of a song performed by Bette Midler, the words of which were a mondegreen from a body of song I could not match to anything. I typed in what I had in memory in the hope of finding what I needed without success.

Eventually, some clarity came, still missing some words but it was enough to find what I was looking for, and to my surprise, it wasn’t the song I was expecting. The lyrics however, were very relatable to an experience I had when I was 10 that still makes my hairs stand on end when I remember.

The Song of Bernadette was written by Jennifer Warnes, Leonard Cohen and Bill Elliott about Bernadette Soubirous the girl who saw visions of the Virgin Mary that led to the creation of the shrine of Our Lady of Lourdes.

Enshrined in minstrel calm

When it was revealed no one believed her, yet, there were people who through the experience got miracles from the wellspring the sprung from the revelations she received. I did visit a Marian shrine once when I was in Lisbon, Our Lady of Fatima, my experience there was profound and revelatory. I brought me back to the desire for solemnity, silence, reverence and meditation in worship, well away from the ululating cacophony of environments I sought refuge in.

Blog - Our Lady of Fátima

For what I saw and heard, no one believed me, but it changed me from the day that it happened. I did not see a vision like Bernadette’s for it had no comfort, but terror. I found solace in Psalms and prayers prayed long and hard for a peace that seemed to desert me when I needed it most. Sometimes, it is the minstrel ministry of classical music, gospel worship music or the music of ladies like Anita Baker, Aretha Franklin, Bette Midler, Billie Holliday, or Dionne Warwick that brings a calming influence.

A heart mended in an embrace

From the Song of Bernadette, the lines from the lyrics that were churning in my mind were; “So many hearts I find, broke like yours and mine, torn by what we've done and can't undo. I just wanna hold you. Come on, let me hold you, like Bernadette would do.” [STLyrics]

There is more in the song that talks about human frailties and the way we seek to make amends for things that may have gone wrong. In all that, we find some hope in life and maybe the embrace of someone who has a vision of the miraculous for us. One night in December not so long ago, I fell into the embrace of a miracle, not Bernadette, but Brian and even if my head had not figured it out then, I felt a coolness, calmness, serenity descend on me like my blood pressure came down a good few points.

With it came the end of grief, the mending of the broken heart that did not seem to mend for almost a decade. Though we are apart, our hearts are knit in a relationship I look to last a lifetime for I have been blessed by providence where I could never have expected to find it.

Quarantined in my self-isolation

No fun in this

If I am to be honest, I am not enjoying the sequestration, quarantine, self-isolation, or social distancing rave of the moment as part of the scheme to limit the spread of the Coronavirus. Much as I am a confessed hermit, I still like social interaction with other people and more on the physical than the virtual.

This social interaction is the equivalent of the grooming observed in a band of gorillas, we are all social beings. At least, I have not developed the ability to commune with inanimate objects and by that derive the benefits I would otherwise gain from seeing fellow human beings.

Obviously, I have to calm myself down and relax, there is another week and a half left of this matter and it could be extended. I would hate to think of what effect it would have on those of us who live alone at home or are used to social events that were so suddenly snatched away.

Sacred cows of our society

In our society, we lose objectivity when anyone suggests a cause is for charity, we are unquestioning and quite generous to charitable causes. You only have to watch the money mountain grow at nightlong television events like Sport Relief in the spring and Children in Need in the autumn, we have been had in a cult and many exploit it.

One other cult is our beloved and revered NHS, founded in 1948, we would not have anyone touch our National Health Service, yet, it has been raped, pillaged, starved through the decades, shedding many of its social underpinnings for the profit motive, but it is being called upon to fight this Coronavirus epidemic hobbled, restrained, underfunded, under-resourced, under-equipped and radically politicised.

A disservice to the NHS

It is not enough to throw money at the problem, someone should be solving the problem of throwing the NHS personnel in the middle of a pandemic without Personal Protection Equipment (PPE) against a virulent and highly contagious pathogen. Much as we applaud the NHS, we cannot justify sending them on a suicide mission for that is not what they signed up for.

They are there to save life and it only behoves the authorities to provide tests, protection and tools for them to perform excellently without having to be kamikaze heroes. Medical personnel are dying, many are gravely ill, and others are in isolation away from the battlefront where they are needed, because of failings in the system.

Exploiting our NHS love

To heap insult upon injury, NHS staff are being threatened with disciplinary action if they voice the dangers in their working environment, that is just unconscionably evil and whoever suggested that action should be booted out of the NHS forthwith.

On the message to the public, it was easy to attach the need for us to stay at home to the cult of the NHS. We are to stay at home to save the NHS, yet, the NHS staff are not given adequate protection and support to save themselves from ever-present danger at work and being vectors that take it to their homes. The government has been utterly derelict in their duty. Lest we forget it was used to drag us into the madness of Brexit that has consumed this country for 4 years.

If only we could see

I remembered reading books by Lobsang Rampa in my late teens which covered paranormal and occultic themes. In one of his narrations, he was in a physics class where electromagnetism was being demonstrated with iron filings used to visually show electromagnetic waves. He told the class he could see electromagnetic waves and he apparently went through a test of his assertion with him being able to tell when the waves were present or not.

Won’t it be wonderful to have that kind sight to see where the Coronavirus is, in the air and on surfaces and by that be able to navigate the world without interacting with it except when found in enclosed places with others or when someone expels droplets by sneezing or coughing?

Back to my feeling at the beginning of the blog, this self-isolation is having the effect that I want to further isolate and extricate myself, I feel I am losing the mental capacity to call up people and engage, I am tired.

Impian Stories: Dreaming of a new way

Dream control

Long ago, Impian realised the potency of dreams, dreams being events he quite vividly remembers when he wakes up, he almost always analyses what he has dreamt about as a playback to appreciate and understand what has been going on in his quite fertile imagination.

Besides this, after watching a film about using scientific methods to enter the dreams of others, he somehow took away from that experience, the ability to control to some extent the plot in his dreams like getting himself out of danger, knowing when he was dreaming, in a trance or experiencing reality and having the ability to break out of a dream waking up spontaneously to extricate himself out of a sticky situation.

I guess everyone knows if you flick a switch in a dream and the lights do not come on, you are in a dream, the funny thing is his mind will inform him in him dream that he is dreaming, the lights will not come on, and if the lights are requirement for that setting, rather than roam in the dark to experience lurking wonders, the self-preservation and failsafe facility kicks in, he will most likely wake up.

Closed up dreams

One area of he dreams he was yet to master was the one to do with enclosed spaces, whilst he had already found coping mechanisms for conscious claustrophobia, his subconscious claustrophobia had gotten worse, he always found him in a maze, unable to retrace his steps and caught in a tight place with no means of escape – very scary.

Houses all seemed to end up like rooms on a spiral stairs with ever-decreasing room to manoeuvre until a point that the space was literally too tight to get the body through, almost like a well-built house had suffered some structural damage after he gained entry that he was in need of a rescue – this was becoming unreasonable because houses are not build like that and why is it that the most interesting rooms were always at the other side of a constricted passage that claustrophobia kept him from exploring.

Rethinking the dream

Then, he had this dream, where the spiral staircase of rooms became an impediment and hindrance, he woke and reasoned, the spiral staircase was a fiction of the mind, houses are not built into a conundrum of impassable passages unless to anyone but those who could slither through like serpents, these were built by human-beings for the use of human-beings and the rooms regardless of how they are laid out will always be properly accessible.

He fell asleep again and picked up the dream where it had left off, only this time, the rooms were all accessible, he had deal with the subconscious claustrophobia by rationalisation and reason, this might well have opened up a neural pathway to exploring other abilities underdeveloped by reason of that impediment.

Methinks, Impian is on a new journey of discovery having opened up a new channel for adventure in his dreams.

Caught in flagrante in Manchester

Simmering and cooling off

I was back in Manchester this weekend literally spoiling for a fight to pick up my glasses which Vision Express expressly did not have the courtesy to expressively inform me of as to the progress in sorting my order out knowing full well that I was from out of town even though after phone calls to them I was told and assured I will be informed but no information came to my notice.

Meanwhile, on the train from Chester, a journey lasting just 75 minutes had me sat in the middle of a crowd I would not have chosen but for the circumstances.

Behind me was a young man in his twenties but with the mental development of an obstreperous 3-year old being chaperoned back home. He got restless, fidgety and kicked violently at the back of my seat everytime the train stopped.

Holding my hair piece

In other circumstances, I would have remonstrated but this was one of those situations where it was just best to live and let live, enduring it for the experience of knowing how fortunate most of us are and how longsuffering their carers might be not forgetting the frustrations of a big man caught in the throes of a small child.

In front, there was a couple of the alternative kind where one in that time had quaffed two bottles of blue vodka and he still had two legs to stand on when we got off the train.

The conductor found time to joke, apparently, Justin Bieber, whoever that is was performing in town and he said he had just heard from the organisers that the concert had been cancelled because Justin had to wash his hair. Much laughter filled the train.

A 419 experience

When I got to my hotel, I was put on the top floor which required the use of steps because it is not serviced by a lift. When I showed the receptionist my cane, he promptly relocated me to a more accessible floor and also close to the lifts. The room number was 419.

I decided on having no breakfast at the hotel, basically, if they could not get mere toast right that it was just toasted on one side, it was unlikely that whatever else they were offering would be up to palatable standards, I had experienced it before – cheap, tacky and avoidable.

Then I made for Vision Express where my first pair was ready and the spare pair was still in the laboratory. I asked to speak to the manager to remonstrate about the lack of adequate customer service.

Appeased with a deal

She arrived with my spare pair which had different lenses from the main pair. That was not what I  had ordered, they were both supposed to be photo-chromatic or as the lingo is nowadays, transition, scratch-resistant and anti-glare – at least in my case, there was no reason for me to order different pairs of lenses if I wanted to be able to interchange glasses.

The change would normally have cost extra but as a sop or some sort of appeasement, they were offered for free though that would mean another visit to Manchester in maybe fortnight.

The rest of the weekend in Manchester was not that eventful, clubs that required membership for me to gain entrance presented a hostile side to the city which should have been catered for with the presentation of a hotel key card signifying I was from out of town.

Hallelujah in my birthday suit

I found a Nigerian restaurant called Hallelujah African Cuisine, when I called to ask about their services, I learnt they will close late because there was a night vigil – maybe, I should pray a bit more over my food, but honestly, these divinely inspired names of businesses that seem to want to double as shrines to the Levitical priesthood are more amusing than to be taken too seriously. I had a good meal there.

We are to check-out of the hotel at 11:00AM, I am usually barely able to do that until maybe 11:15AM but before 11:00AM there were knocks on my door despite the fact that I had a red Do Not Disturb sign on the door knob.

I cannot think of who could have removed it that by 11:10AM before I could answer the door, the lady was in my room and there I was in flagrante deprehensus nuda nudus...

Nigeria: The youth must face the challenge of IBB

Where’s the future?

A nation’s future can be measured in the dreams and aspirations of its young generation, once again a cabal of malevolent power brokers are ready to take away the new, fresh, invigorating and change that Nigeria needs to race into the 21st Century and claim a piece of national significance and pride in global history.

A great challenge has been thrown down to our future that faces a bleak, regressive and dark course of events if we allow ourselves to be subsumed into the fiefdoms of megalomaniacs who have no interest in the progress of Nigeria than to plunder its abundant mineral resources and frustrate its greatest asset, it people and most especially its youth which constitute the majority of her population.

Has-beens in wannabe clothes

These “has-beens” are the crux of our political class who have been ex-this or ex-that from the military hierarchy, old representative roles, crooked business people all of whose names we have heard before, time and time again; many have been around since before we were born and are still around hugging power, position, influence and process.

They were there in power before and their activities have done Nigeria no good, they are here now, and Nigeria is faring no better, if they were to be here in the future, they have no track record to give us any hope for improvement, progress or change – they are the forces of derogation, denigration, destabilisation, destruction and desperation that have plagued Nigeria since its independence.

A existential plague

It is time to eradicate this plague forthwith, this is time for something revolutionary, like excising a cancer with surgery rather than the palliation of pain with the administration of analgesics. There is nothing better of the devil we know, if we know that the devil brings evil beyond comprehension – a new force must rise and that force is amongst the youth – they cannot afford to be beaten down by the system and its protagonists as inexperienced and ill-equipped for leadership.

A sign that those leaders of the past have failed in leadership is that they have not been able to groom leaders from amongst their followers either for the better or the worse – their selfish, self-serving and conceited ways meant they have left legacies of the negative that have become the bad stereotypes of everything Nigerian that foreigners seem to see.

The past haunting the future

Chief amongst these is General Ibrahim Badamosi Babangida [1] (retired, also known as IBB), once the president of the country between 1985 and 1993, a time that saw such radical change in Nigeria for the worse from the economy through the ascendancy of corruption as the life-blood of every faction of society, the mass exodus of its precious youthful talent to a botched electoral process that presaged the advent of the despotic Abacha era.

This man is planning a come-back to leadership on the ticket of the most inimical political organisation to Nigerian’s future, the ruling party and if he cannot buy that platform, one of the other parties would mortgage the future of Nigeria for a chance to have a plunderer in charge to dole out the largesse of Nigeria’s bounty like he has done before.

The biggest onslaught on the country has come from an interview he gave to the BBC News Hausa service recently where he said [2] “we have seen the signs that they are not capable of leading this country and so, we feel we should help them.”

He offers no new help too

That is too little too late, when he was in government 24 years ago, he had 8 years to help the youth see their great potential in future in a place called Nigeria, he had neither the wherewithal and persuasion give this vision to us as we entered our 20s with aspirations and dreams – in the end, he oversaw probably the greatest exodus of people for the great Nigerian dream who are scattered around the world now in their 40s and very few returning because they have significant ad laudable contributions building the economies and resource pools of foreign countries.

Just like ex-President Olusegun Obasanjo before, they have not been able to give way to the youth whilst doing nothing for the better of its assets – the story goes that when Obasanjo was Head of State he visited a primary school in 1976 and said to the pupils “You are the future of our great country, Nigeria”, in 2006, a pupil observer of that event said, 30 years on, we have that selfsame person in leadership.

That is where the future of Nigeria has been hamstrung, in the hands of the so-called experienced who have no new ideas, no vision, no mission and a personable inclination to convey a sense of aggravated entitlement to every decision-making process and position that matters in Nigeria so as to continue to thwart every progressive move and darken every light of inspired thought for change.

Time up for them and time now for the youth

Nigeria today however still has great youthful resources of successful, able, inspired and resourceful people; they have in all their endeavours in other walks of life shown themselves full of purpose and vision that a country like Nigeria needs at this time of her history – they can lead and lead the way to the promise of a country we are proud to call our own anywhere we live in this world.

Let us call time on these people and let us do it now.

Sources

[1] Ibrahim Babangida - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

[2] Nigeria: “My Regime Was Better Than Now” – Babangida | AfricanLoft

Nigeria: My real expectations of Enough is Enough

Lessons to absorb

The Enough is Enough campaign of the youth of Nigeria marched on the office the governor of Lagos State today and it comes just within a month of their marching on the National Assembly in Abuja with a whole list of demands.

I felt the march in March was a qualified success in that it was a compelling gathering of note but it did not achieve the essential goal of delivering their letter of demands to the authorities.

This time, I held my peace to observe and then review the results of this march which one of the leaders said was a mixed success.

Indeed, they have now realised that the so-called leaders of our country in the words of one of the organisers “don’t believe that they are accountable to us”.

Select yourselves

They the leaders probably do not but it is laudable that they, the youth, are campaigning to take ownership of the voting process with the R-S-V-P call which reads as Register – Select – Vote – Protect.

We do need a voting and accountable system that counts and reveals the express wishes of the people who have exercised the right to choose their leadership.

One does wonder weather the choices we have to select from really just leave us with the best of a rotten bunch – that would in no way give us the leadership we demand and deserve.

Maybe what the Enough is Enough team needs to realise is that they are not going to effect change by looking in from the outside, then the political entities we have now would not be the best incubators for the range of aspirational and visionary talent and ability these young people represent.

They should take the next step in securing the voting process for the right selections when voting in order to protect the entity of Nigeria and the future we all hope for.

The capable youth

Looking at the poster that accompanied the call to march, this gathering consisted of professionals, celebrities, media, students and activists – definitely, much more from all works of life.

Of these professionals we have entrepreneurs and businessmen that everyday Nigerians trust to run organisations and honourably conduct business in a proper fashion.

The celebrities definitely have proved themselves capable in some sort of endeavour to have become celebrities whilst the media can give an honest, just and truthful voice to the yearnings and aspirations of the young Nigerian.

Students are supposed to be thinkers with amazing ideas and capabilities, the activists have causes that impact on lives all around Nigeria.

The youth can lead

The question then becomes as we realise that the youth make up the majority of Nigerians why these selfsame successful and youthful people cannot vie for the leadership of our dear nation.

There is where I want to see the Enough is Enough movement, a political force that competes honourably and competently for office, shaking up the fossilised body of politics that has hamstrung the nation for decades.

Yakubu Gowon & Thomas Sankara were hardly 30 when they assumed leadership of their countries, whilst it was through military coups in their case, there can be democratic rewards for the youth that take on the system for the good of the country.

Let the majority speak

The gerontocrats have failed us too many times just as the political jobbers have had no interest but theirs to heart in the pursuit of office and the spoils to loot therein.

Let your votes count by young Nigerians taking charge and voting for competent leaders amongst yourselves.

Enough is Enough – Let new blood, fresh blood, young blood in – Enough is Enough, let the youth seize the mantle of leadership and infuse us with hopes and visions that change Nigeria for the better.

That is where you should take the ground and occupy for the good all the majority which just happens to be yourselves.