#IAMNOTACRIMINAL

not a criminal

After a forced break brought about by relocation, Geoscientist/Poet Plumbline teams up with Kraftmatiks again to come up with #IAMNOTACRIMINAL ‘I am not a criminal, though I know what it’s like to be locked up in Area F, my offence being seen at the Café where I went to print my invite for interview’ Plumbline (Plumbtifex Rantimus) quips as the story of Police Brutality, extra-judicial killings, under-employment, racial profiling, and the tendency for the green passport to be held in disdain is told over a Kraftmatiks montage.

You probably know about the Police Killings of Trayvon Martin, Tamir Rice, Michael Brown among others in America, but who is telling the story of Kunle Adepeju, Dawodu brothers, Odunola Ali and countless others in Nigeria? Who remembers Damilola Taylor, whose family relocated to Peckham because his sister was epileptic and the Parents wanted better Medicare, only to be stabbed in the thigh by the Preddie brothers and left to bleed to death?

If you have ever been subjected to extra security checks at International Airports because of the Green Passport, if you have ever been profiled by the Police, if you have lost anyone to Police brutality, if you are among the Nigerians seeking to make a decent living anywhere in the world but have to work extra-hard to get the respect others have handed to them on a platter of gold, this song is for you. Even if you are indifferent, it is for you too.

 

LINKS BELOW

http://www.radar.ng/2016/04/kraftmatiks-presents-plumbtifex-in.html

Audio:- Plumbtifex – I Am Not A Criminal [ Spoken Word Poetry ]

https://www.hulkshare.com/kraftworks/i-am-not-a-criminal

http://orin.ng/tracks/3184

http://pop.ng/i-am-not-a-criminal-by-plumbline/

 

The Diary of a Xenophobe

POSTED THIS ON FACEBOOK JUNE 4 2008…SADLY NOTHING HAS CHANGED

I had so much to say on recent disturbing events in SA…my brother/teacher John stirred me into eventually putting something together on what had passively been eating my soul…this is in Spoken Word format..so pls y’all expect to read a lil’ more..lol

See, I’m a grown man, I’m my own man. I hung around for ages with sages and tapped into the wisdom inherent in their pages so that my mind can evolve into a gold-mine.

But see, I’m a cold man, my heart is frozen I can’t feel a thing, like the Stone man. I’m a tad barbaric, though I’ve mastered Latin to Amharic and I get so, so didactic but that won’t change a thing, ‘cos in the end, I’m still a lone man.

Still a prone man, many times, scared of my own plan, a victim of my own fears, so I pick a crow bar and slam it hard on a member of my own clan.

XENO

See, I blame everybody for my pain, for every travail that has come my way, for AIDS, for the waste of my race, mine is the culture of hate, but I go on all the same, Shame!

I was brought up not to talk to strangers, now I hate that, so it’s not strange that I did at the onset along with my other African brothers and that was the beginning of a long history of murders; mothers buried their kids Three-feet beneath because Six-feet was too deep to conceal their grief!

Nkosi Sikelel’Africa! My brothers the Zims, peeps from Mozambique, and all over the Gulf of Guinea: Nigeria, Ghana, Mali and Gambia, musicians, movie makers got revolutionary and their sound was heard. The world learnt there was fire in the ghetto of SOWETO!

2008KIL

Pardon my amnesia, and if it is hard to stomach get some milk of magnesia, for I suddenly forgot what Joseph did for Egypt. How did the world know Mandela was locked up in Robben? When Steve Biko was dropping and the mamas of Hector Pietersen and Hastings Ndlovu were sobbing, how on Earth did the world know?

I’m quick to forget how men with conscience from the West unequivocally condemned Apartheid and that word became one of the first tri-syllabic words any African kid in the 80’s would know.

The only thing I remember is waking up from slumber to see all the Makwerekwere flooding South Africa. That explains sort of, why I ever lifted my klepto-hands, against a fellow man!

KIL2

October 19, 2007, Lucky Dube was shot dead right in front, of his son..our way of saying “Thank You For demanding our freedom with your songs”…

Nkosi Sikelel’ Africa! God bless Africa

Ps: The Crowbar is messy, can I get a gun?

Copyright ©2008 Jeffrey Jaiyeola Plumbline

HECTOR

#31Days31Writers – Jaiye is up! “Change came, but it is that kind of change that changes the change maker”

Fairy Godsister's Blog

The last time Jaiye was in London, we were supposed to meet up to catch a movie, and I got to him late. The way he scolded me eh! Wow… but that’s just the kind of person he is. Big brother, super writer, someone I really look up to. After all the scolding, we had a great time watching Thor 2, and then munching on wedges and potato skins!

I don’t remember how we first met, but I remember catching up at lunches in Abuja, and Jaiye being gracious enough to do an interview for a class project during my Master’s Degree. I’m super excited he could write, I literally bullied him into doing this on a weekend he was very busy! What else are big brothers for?

My name is Jaiyeola Jeffrey Ifihan, I’m a Geoscientist and I’ve been set up.

Life for a writer with long-standing memory block…

View original post 574 more words

#31Days31Writers – Jaiye is up! “Change came, but it is that kind of change that changes the change maker”

Fairy Godsister's Blog

The last time Jaiye was in London, we were supposed to meet up to catch a movie, and I got to him late. The way he scolded me eh! Wow… but that’s just the kind of person he is. Big brother, super writer, someone I really look up to. After all the scolding, we had a great time watching Thor 2, and then munching on wedges and potato skins!

I don’t remember how we first met, but I remember catching up at lunches in Abuja, and Jaiye being gracious enough to do an interview for a class project during my Master’s Degree. I’m super excited he could write, I literally bullied him into doing this on a weekend he was very busy! What else are big brothers for?

My name is Jaiyeola Jeffrey Ifihan, I’m a Geoscientist and I’ve been set up.

Life for a writer with long-standing memory block…

View original post 574 more words

#31Days31Writers – Jaiye is up! “Change came, but it is that kind of change that changes the change maker”

Fairy Godsister's Blog

The last time Jaiye was in London, we were supposed to meet up to catch a movie, and I got to him late. The way he scolded me eh! Wow… but that’s just the kind of person he is. Big brother, super writer, someone I really look up to. After all the scolding, we had a great time watching Thor 2, and then munching on wedges and potato skins!

I don’t remember how we first met, but I remember catching up at lunches in Abuja, and Jaiye being gracious enough to do an interview for a class project during my Master’s Degree. I’m super excited he could write, I literally bullied him into doing this on a weekend he was very busy! What else are big brothers for?

My name is Jaiyeola Jeffrey Ifihan, I’m a Geoscientist and I’ve been set up.

Life for a writer with long-standing memory block…

View original post 574 more words

WHO GAVE GUNS TO MR BOKO?

How did we get here? My Take On Violence and Using God as ‘Third Party Affiliate’

Tagged , ,

GOD, PLEASE DON’T ACT

Image

You bought a Flight ticket, got stuck in traffic, arrived at the airport twenty (20) minutes to take-off, and met a closed Counter. Even though the plane did not arrive until ten minutes after, you were told you already missed the flight.

Today, penalties paid in cash to re-validate your ticket; you’re way too early for your flight. After you checked-in, a text comes in that your flight has been delayed for One Hour! You try hard not to curse. The plane arrives eventually, you board, and as a typical Nigerian, bow your head to pray, and the only Prayer that escapes your lips is ‘GOD, PLEASE DON’T ACT’!  Few bumps and about an hour later, at the arrival terminal, while waiting for your baggage, you stand by the conveyor belt and look up at the graphically assisted pictures of Mr President and Madam Aviation Minister, the smile of the former, and the eyes of the latter that seem to be fixated on you and then you breathe out ‘GOD, THANK YOU FOR NOT ACTING’

Image

You work with the Aviation Authority, just a couple of weeks ago, a chartered plane split in half less than a minute after take-off, spewing charred bodies and a trapped casket dangerously close to your  office. Today, you are getting totally unnerved at the drones flying ahead so you pray…‘GOD, PLEASE DON’T ACT’!  Eleven hours later, you arrive at your Iju, Lagos-Ogun-or-whatever-State-Suits home and just as you’re about to settle for a late dinner, a Plane sounds pretty close overhead and the four letter ‘D’ word flashes across your mind and before you could say DANA! You drop your spoon by reflex as you pray ‘GOD, PLEASE DON’T ACT’!

Let me introduce you to God. You are not likely to know this God. He’s not the One Moses talked about as recorded in the Bible and Torah.  He’s not the One Jesus claimed oneness with, nor is He the Allah that sent Jubril/Gabriel to Muhammed while meditating in the Carbonate Caves of Arabia. This God was created circa 1858 when the phrase: ACT OF GOD, known in French as Force Majeure crept into Law/Insurance.

Image

This God is as capricious as the Esu of Yoruba mythology (Esu in Yoruba mythology is the god of the crossroads who grants ordinance to sacrifices, determines fate, and is the master of trickery, it is probably the trickery aspect that prompted Bishop Samuel Ajayi Crowther to erroneously translate the Devil as Esu in the Bible when he got to Genesis Chapter 3). Okay, let me not get carried away.

When Nigerians pray, it looks more likely that they pray to the 1858-Force Majeure-Esu God. When something terrible happens, the individual must have not prayed enough (the Yoruba Esu afflicts those who fail to make sacrifices).

Image

An over speeding Car runs into a humongous pot-hole and somersaults, killing the Passengers. No one thinks of the reckless driver nor the passive passengers who do not want to come off as weak and afraid should they tell the driver to slow down. No one thinks of the corrupt politician who has appropriated the funds meant for the repair/maintenance of these roads, nor the Contractor who does a shoddy job, having ‘tipped’ several officials to secure the contract and had no funds left to cater to his ‘Mark-Up’, it has to be God, to whom the victims did not pray enough to, hence were left at the mercies of the ‘Witches’ who set their cauldrons in the middle of the road!

ImageAsk the Christian who pays his Tithe dutifully why he does that. Tell him to think deeply before answering. Is he paying because he loves God or because the Pastor has quoted Malachi 3 so much that he’s afraid that if he doesn’t pay, the capricious God is going to strike him with various afflictions?

Ask the Muslim who gives Zakat; is he doing it as a wealth redistribution to help the poor as enjoined in the Quran (mainly in the Medinan Suras) and Hadith or out of fear of damnation and disaster?

It is interesting that in the United Kingdom, Muslims give more to Charity than Jews, with Protestants tailing behind, then Catholics, with the Atheists at the bottom of the Charity list (http://worldnews.nbcnews.com/_news/2013/07/22/19611201-muslims-give-more-to-charity-than-others-uk-poll-says). If this poll is anything to go by, the average Briton who has no thought of repercussions is NOT likely to give to charity! I would have conveniently extrapolated this trend to the entire Homo Sapiens Sapiens but some prominent secular humanists come to mind, even at that, I would still call them the handful exceptions to the rule.

Politicians and Millionaire Ex-Militants must love this God more than any of us at the lower end of the Food-Chain. The corrupt Politician can go ahead with his impunity as long as he knows that the average citizen would rather pray for ‘Divine-Intervention’ instead of marching on the Streets to say NO to impunity and tyranny. This God has his own Christ too, ‘the unseen shrink at every Tweet     ’ who allows you to vent your pent-up frustrations, till the same Politicians come up with Twitter handles with their array of ‘False Prophets’ and Pseudo/Para Voltrons  closing the Trinity loop.

A bunch of Clerics love this God too, contrary to Late ‘Oyii’ Chuba Okadigbo’s prediction in 1999 that Clerics would be ‘out of business’       with the advent of democracy, it is now a Game of Numbers too. The Politician needs the Cleric for two major reasons:

1)    Numbers : The Politician knows that kneeling down before the Man of God  right in front of about a Million strong congregation is going to hit the headlines, increase the ‘eye-witnesses’, make him come across as ‘Humble and God-Fearing’ and translate to VOTES.

2)    Atonement: Who would rather build a Church/ Mosque, donate largesse to  Places of Worship and grant license to Churches to build ‘Private Universities’     while ironically starve the Public Schools that were built by Missionaries and leave the Universities in Doldrums while the Roads remain Death Traps?

 Image

I could say more, but I really do not need to.  Just breathe calmly as you note that when next a Politician jets off to the Holy Land at the time there are strong corruption charges hanging on his or her neck, it is an ACT OF GOD!

 

@Plumbtifex

JO THE BAPTIST OF OTUOKE

Image

Friends, foes, collective ‘twittering children of anger’, LWKMD contortionists, listen to me and listen good. This might just be the much needed antidote to your ‘sophisticated ignorance.

There is enough to depress anyone lately, that is, if you allow it. For some of us, we just lose ourselves in keypad punches and ‘finger away’ pent-up frustrations.

From the wilderness, sorry, creeks of the River Jordan (Niger, whatever) came a certain Baptist preaching the remission of sins. He had no shoes, ate wild locusts and honey (presumably so, since most of his Countrymen feed better than him). His name is Jo, the Baptist of Otuoke.

Unlike John the Baptist (his predecessor of over 2000 years), Jo the Baptist could work miracles. Like, turning a Company of Zealots (some call them Militants) into Josephs of Arimathea (so rich they can loan you a Mausoleum) of some sorts.

Although the ‘Amnesty’ miracle was birthed by his predecessor, he (Jo) it was who visited the creeks. Thousands of ‘repentant’ zealots came down by Warri River to lay down their Mark 4s to study War no more.

Alas! The Creeks still bleed and pipelines get punctured every now and then, but it is not the Ministry of Jo to end that, there cometh One after him who would baptise y’all with brimstone and fire!  Amen, Somebody, anybody!

Some Kings of the North heard the feat of Jo and pleaded for him to repeat the same Miracle with another group of zealots in the North who have held the region/religion hostage…..Alas! He could do no mighty works there because of their unbelief except a heavily guarded visit.

Bar(awo)Alams was a notorious Robber/Insurrectionist, yet Jo the Baptist a la Pontius Pilatus style, freed him  and delivered himself to be crucified in his place.

Image

Unlike intolerant John the Baptist, Jo never called the Religious Leaders of the day Brood of Vipers! (Pauses before LWKMD contortionists decide to read the 4D into this logic).

Jo is married, and miracles run in his wife’s veins too, like: Coming to life after being dead for 7 Days, making an entire nation laugh through the power of her spoken words (English). As a matter of fact, it is the Writer’s opinion that Dame Lazarus la Stella Maria should write a book, and she should be canonized alive! (Caveat, Contortionists).

Image

Jo has disciples, mostly sworn to do even greater works. You all probably grew up reading how Jesus fed 5000 (Five Thousand) People with 2 little fishes and 5 loaves of bread and you wondered in awe. Well, have you heard of 1 Million Naira (about $6300 /£ 4150) ‘Mr Bigg’s’ Lunch for Six (6) Party Chairmen! Those who criticized him have no inkling what God’s Will is! (Beware, pun creators).

Jo loves the poor, probably more that the Poor Man of Assisi whom the current Pope is named after. He is frustrated about the Miracle of Subsidy which does not benefit the poor but only benefits the affluent Middleclass. But the people spoke of stoning him the last time he tried to stop the Miracle.  But then, perhaps the bigger miracle is the Palliative Miracle which only the eyes of faith can see…Dear Reader, if you can/have not see/seen this miracle, kneel down, repent and be baptised by the great Jo of Otuoke!

Jo really wants to be like Jesus, he just seems to have his own terms of aspiration. Jesus was hated by the Religious leaders of the day because he hired a Tax Collector and even dined with one. If you are not familiar with Judeo-Roman history, you just might find it hard to understand why the Jews hated Tax Collectors. They (the Tax Collectors) were the ‘Face’ of their Roman Oppressors. Worst part is that the Tax Collectors were not Roman, they were fellow Jews! Tax in those days, wasn’t anything like the modern Pay As You Earn, even though the trend is similar. Conquered territories were forced to pay their new ‘Masters’ from their toil and a Tax Collector was appointed from among the conquered tribe.

These ‘Tax Collectors’ love their Jobs and are more than eager to please their Masters. They lived under the delusion that they were a superior race to their own fellow Jews….this is not some history lesson; abegi if you still can’t figure, ever heard about the ‘House Negro’?

These Tax Collectors abound today, they are the face of an Oppressive Government that never had to clash Swords nor run Chariots to Rule. Have you forgotten so soon these very words: “We can’t pander to threats of the people we RULE”? If you’ve forgotten who said that, to whom, on what occasion, then you just discovered why you sucked at Religious Knowledge and History at the Secondary School Certificate level!

Jo dines with Tax Collectors, but unlike Jesus, whose presence was enough to convict Zacchaeus about his life of extortion and make him commit to returning extorted funds. What I fail to understand about Jo is how BarAlams would be said to have shown remorse without any announcement of returned loot! But then, maybe I’m wrong, maybe I am yet to fully grasp what remorse/repentance is all about, maybe the rule is, steal, don’t get caught, if you do, Pardon is an option.

Maybe BarAlams deserves praise instead of condemnation. Afterall, crude oil production has increased since he held his ‘Attack Dogs’ on the leash. Every Governor that seeks to loot must raise his own German Shepherds, Chihuahuas, Dobberman, call the Dogs by whatever name, Dog na Dog! You can even chose to cross-breed.  Like some did and raised a Monster in the process.

Image

The Ginger-Cassavabread man is free to ride the back of the Sly Fox to cross the Creeks, I can only hope that Cassavabread man would not morph into Cassavadead man, slain in the midst of the Creeks by his own trusted Dogs/Foxes. (Did y’all read the Ladybird series while growing up? If you didn’t, sorry your childhood is wasted!).

Today, the Daughter of Herodias is dancing, she’s going to dance so well, Herod would make an offer….One can only hope that she’s not going to ask for the ‘Hat’ of Jo on a Wooden Platter!

Footnote: And when the Gas Flare sinks at last behind the Creeks of Old, Peace to this young militant, that comes with Bombs of Words…

 

-QWERTYTYRANTINO appears on Twitter as @plumbtifex

Tagged , , , , , ,

THE DAY INNOCENCE WAS RAPED

CHAPTER TWO

 

chs2

I believe the existence of tyrants creates the balance in any community. We had lived in the middle of nowhere with guards patrolling only once in a fortnight and that did not matter until now. I guess Mr. Vulture provided a form of leadership that kept us at the threshold, before insanity took over.

Before now, it never mattered who was male or female, we were all family. We knew the rules: the male were not allowed to cross to the other wing which housed the female, and vise versa.

But without Mr. Vulture, the rules had changed. Matter of fact, all rules died that fateful night. There had to be something about the human blood; you shed the first, there will be no hesitation shedding the other. Not only that, your thinking changes because at that instant you exercised control over life and death, you become a god in your own right.

Naturally, the females were the first victims of this breakdown. I grimaced each night as I heard the wail of one girl after the other as the older boys amongst us took unsolicited liberties with them. That continued for over a week, until one of the girls died in the process. I recall her wail getting reduced to moans and sobs, then to nothing. I recall the ensuing stampede and the haste to dispose her body in the bush with what I considered an unnecessary threat to the other girls.

z980495d

The first fortnight went without a visit from the guards. For that, I was both thankful and worried. The girls and the older boys had taken over the responsibility of cooking for us all. Our own part was to fetch firewood. I was also rewarded for my role in instigating the riot: The Storekeeper. That was what had me worried. The guards’ failure to turn up meant one thing among many others: There would be NO supplies.

I told them my fears. A meeting was convened and we agreed on one thing: We needed a leader. A tall fifteen year old that had left me wondering since my arrival how they managed to capture him in the first place was elected. His name was Bashir. I was amazed at his insight as we drew a plan for our survival. He told us the whole essence of our being captured: To sell us within the Country or across the border to Cameroon or Niger, depending on how fit we were. Those that were less fit will be sold within the Country as ‘househelps’, while the rest will seek to meet the rising demand for child soldiers in Sudan, Sierra-Leone, Liberia, and in some cases, Ethiopia and Eritrea. Their contacts in Niger and Cameroon would take care of that. Up till that time, those names were alien to me.

A mixture of anger pain and resentment flooded my heart again. Despair followed. I may never see my village again, nor my mother.

Images of my father’s bullet-ridden body flooded my eyes, but I did not feel a thing. I promised my mum I would become a soldier to avenge my father some day.

Tagged

Rantimus PRhyme: I HAD A DREAM

I dreamt that we were truly independent
That our captors in our freedom were truly interested
That when the union jack was lowered we no longer answered to Downing
But I’m frowning ‘cos they ensured that in debts we’re drowning
The G-8 is clowning with the way that they’re sounding
I feel like screaming in their ears “give us us free”
But no one will allow me so I feel like slipping into a coma
Asking you all to wake me when I’m free
But I won’t, I’m not flying till I finish
You can’t close my chapter, I got too many pages
I dreamt true civilians ruled our country
Not dictators hiding their toga to fool all and sundry
I dreamt that places of worship were not moved by money
They didn’t have to rub it in that truth has fallen
Idolized their tummy, I’m sick of their grumbling
Now everything is tumbling; but I see a new world