Lerabari's Blog

I had a conversation with a senior colleague bothering on journalism and trauma.  He asked one striking question: "Are journalists getting soft?" In the course of our conversation, he talked about how this era or generation of journalists enjoy certain privileges that older journalists didn't enjoy and how things are more or less served on a platter of gold in terms of working conditions for younger ones. He also said journalism is a profession we signed up for and have to face the realities that come with the job. Just like the military and police personnel, there are hazards of the job journalists must face, he insinuated. Then I reminded him that these guys experience PTSD. Journalists consume a lot of traumatic content. 'Regular' citizens consume as well, and it's not good for anyone at all.  Journalists have to probe further and sometimes consume a particular traumatic content over and over again to find answers and clues. Now, the past week was p...

Monday mornings are not very pleasant for me. This is because sometimes I just wish my weekends were longer, or maybe my weekdays were shorter. I recently read an article about some advocacy for fewer weekdays and I fear Nigeria for one, will not be the first to adopt that, unfortunately. So, my dread for Monday mornings may continue for a while until something gives.  So, on my way to work this morning, racing against time as usual, I alight from the very last taxi from whence I would walk down the crescent leading to the office. As I begin the ‘long walk to ...’, I notice something strange happening ahead of me. There are three men on the stretch of road: one barefooted, wearing a white robe and ahead of the other two. The second is holding what seems like a long rod or stick, and the last one is hustling behind the stick-wielding one.  The one cloaked in what looks like an ‘aladura’ robe, charges on in my direction. He is holding something like a rope and is tying it around...

I talk to myself sometimes, maybe most of the time. I don't always speak the words out loud, except I'm rehearsing a script.  Friday morning I'm rushing to work (as usual). I board a keke and start talking to myself again:  "Hope this guy won't see too many passengers to pick and waste my time, or stop at the filling station to buy fuel like that taxi driver did the other day."  The taxi driver thought apologising while driving into the petrol station would stop me from being upset. He's lucky there's been some improvement as regards my 'sweetness' (I actually typed 'wereyness' but autocorrect did its magic 😅). Years back, I'll get off the vehicle right there in the petrol station and go board another one without giving him a dime.  Back to the main story, the keke driver sees two passengers going the opposite direction and since I was the only one in his auto rickshaw, he asks me to get down and board another one. Hmm. This whole ...

I love travelling. I didn’t realise this until my national youth service in 2010. Of course, I had travelled even beyond the shores of Nigeria before that year, but there were things I experienced in 2010 that made me discover this part of myself. Truly, life is a journey, and if you’re deliberate and taking note of certain things about life, you’ll find out that life can be a journey of self-realization. Let’s get back to my love for travelling. When I and a childhood cum close friend, Boma, had heard that the NYSC posting list was out, we were apprehensive or somewhat anxious about the list. We needed to see where we had been posted to, majorly because we didn’t want to be posted to any ‘dreaded’ place. We didn’t ‘work’ our posting, so it was expected. Come to think of it now, I wish knew some things then, that I know now, like the fact that THE EARTH IS THE LORD’S. Maybe I wouldn’t have been worried. And to think of how things panned out, there was no need to worry about where I w...

The coronavirus pandemic has changed a lot of things in our world today. It has exposed systems and sectors like a naked person stripped in public, in the full glare of everyone. Our systems and structures built over the years have been tried in the fire of a ravaging disease. Unfortunately, these systems and structures have not come out like fine gold after having passed through a crucible. An adage has it, that knowledge is power, and this saying proves so even in times where there might be information overload on one hand, which can breed conspiracies; and ignorance on the other hand, which fear breeds on. Knowledge becomes power when the facts are known about any given thing or situation and put into good use. What use can the facts about the #coronavirus serve? Well, I sure know that it can help dispel fear and make you make the right decisions. The woman in the story I’m about to share took a decision, but was it the right one? I had to go from my sister’s place ...

Wetin Musa no go hear for gate? This seems to be the latest expression in town.  But it should be changed to 'Wetin #BigBaby no go hear inside Keke?' Here's why.  "Police, Agbero and Taskforce wey dey collect money from drivers for road, dey help drivers sometimes kwa. Dem dey help dem escape some kain tins like accident and armed robbers." - Keke Passenger What started off this obscure point of view from this passenger? Well, the Keke driver had parted with some money (for the boys) at the junction where we boarded - thanks to the absence of wisdom displayed by those in charge of ensuring sanity on our roads (which I'll explain in another post). So, after driving some meters down the road, just by one of the approved parks, the Keke driver parts with some amount of money again: this time, for the 'park officials'.  One of the passengers who couldn't understand the system of operation asked the Keke driver why he had ...