31.03.2016
The desire to deepen our understanding of history and expose wrongdoings should be as attractive to us as food. Given the failing polity of our clime, the need to contribute to political discourses and literary archives should give us sleepless nights. That will be the only way we can leave a future so dignifying to our children.
STORIES FOR THE NEXT GENERATIONS, The Mafias, The Masses, The Messes, which will be presented to the public on Wednesday April 6, 2016, at Bishop Thomas McGettrick’s Pastoral Centre, Mile 50 Abakaliki, is not my book; it is our book. The enthusiasm is there but it is not anything new; it is rather a selected anthology of all our discourses in this column. The fear is that if we do not leave our stories for next generations, they will not know the distance we have come. Edmund Burke said that they never look forward to posterity, those who never look back to their ancestors.
For years I have been in the apostolate of the pen not because I know how to write. No, I rather believe that the pen is mightier than the sword. As not all sword bearers are professionals, so no one should expect that I get all things right.
My passion for journalism has been driven by the declining willingness of people to bear witness to truth. With the prevailing hunger in the society, truth has become too relative. The fear is that with time our society is going to find itself on a moral nowhere. The signs of the impending doom are here. What have we not got in Nigeria? We have exhausted all catalogues of evils any moral being or entity can commit. Any Nigerian who enjoys reputations knows that he doesn’t merit it.
True witnessing demands courage. No one who is too weak can dare cabals because five out of every ten persons you meet will hate you for your chosen profession; and three out of five persons who love you may not be comfortable with you in discussing certain issues. True prophets have no permanent friends and foes. So many are the sorrows of true witnesses!
Because witnessing demands courage, at ordination, I asked God to increase in me the desire to bear true witness. I asked him to make me a victim of His truth. Besides the priestly vows of chastity, poverty and obedience, I asked for the strength- to give not only sacred host but bread; and yet separate religion from philanthropy. I asked for the strength to adore the pulpit and respect a platform; and yet differentiate Jesus from Luther. I asked for the power to proclaim the Gospel and recite a national anthem; and yet keep a distance between Mark and Marx.
From that beginning I prayed for the desire to teach not just doctrines but alphabets and yet see an island between Rome and Greece; to learn not just value of prayer but value of work, and combine God’s providence with social security; to raise up not only saints but activists, and commend Marys before Marthas.
At my ordination, I knew the implication of toeing the path of truth. I knew that is energy-sapping. I knew that one can be victimized. While lying prostrate during that litany of the saints, I prayed: “when my strength is low and tasks high; and I need to smile but have to sigh; when I need friends but find only allies; Crucified Saviour, keep me united with Golgotha; on my Good Friday, may I heave with you: “It is finished!” Amen.”
Faithful to these, I have over the years deployed my energy to the apostleship of the pulpit and the pen as a public affair analyst and an advocate of justice and love. This column was conceived in fulfillment of the promise I made to God. That is why I prefaced it on the ethics of developmental journalism.
It was not my intention but many readers have been on me to come up with a compilation of the column’s articles. For years I disagreed because we have been learning. Besides, I didn’t think it necessary but for obvious reason I will not tell you immediately I have decided to yield to people’s demand. Added to the above, I often get a call from readers complaining that my column is missing in the particular paper they bought. Sometimes, I also get embarrassed with the avoidable errors of spellings and other errors generally classified as ‘printer’s’ that have always marred the beauty and logic of the column. With all these put together, an anthology has become necessary.
The voices you will encounter in the anthology will not whisper softly to you or be discreet or polite; they will shout their dismay with loud intelligence. Though the end impression will be that of coherent collective anxiety, each article is entirely singular, but all concerned, sometimes saying deadly, ugly things in mocking tones that leave one perpetually uncertain whether to laugh, shed tears or do both at the same time.
Stories of the Next Generation is a drama where everybody is a character. Two characters emerge prominently in each article you pick- You and You. You are either a mafia, or the hoi polloi. Players switch positions as roles change with political tsunami that ravages from time to time. The anthology is a mirror where everyone looks at and understands the weight of their guilty. The messes are our collective failure. We should not be ashamed to tell our children that once upon a time we got big decisions wrong and at other time we got it right.
The Dragnet readers are the chief hosts of the event and you cannot afford to call guests and miss out. The readers are so important to yours sincerely for many reasons. When I go through life challenges, shared or not shared, their solidarity keeps me going. When those mafias I occasionally step on their toes threaten me, the fans rally around me in defence. Some they shun; others they fight. When people try to use gifts to dry my ink the thought of fans reminds me that betrayal is not the answer.
Together we have made this column grow. I am not unaware of our success. But our success calls for caution because we are not yet where we ought to be. When the column published ‘He Who Laughs Last Laughs Best’ I contended that long term success can lead to overconfidence and a lack of imagination.’ We can’t adopt this illusion.
If not the fans, I would have given up, the stress, the threats are enough to send one parking. But as I make new enemies, I earn the fans’ support. If you do not keep your distance this will be a life time project. Be sure that two weeks after the launch, the second book will be on sale.
See you at Pastoral Central, Mile 50, Abakaliki, on Wednesday, April 6, 2016, at 3.pm.
