On a recent trip to Abeokuta, I encountered this gallery. Icons. Abeokuta is very historical and a must-visit for people
interested in our history. Editor in Chief.
I am not even going to be pretentious in this write-up. This is going to be a deep intellectual discussion aimed at better understanding the paradigm shift as contained in the recent movement of Mr. Udofia from the PDP to APC.
As a Master of Science Degree holder in Political Science, I once wrote a seminal paper on the dialectics of a paradigm shift in the political process
In the paper, I argued very strenuously that since politics was being played by humans and humans by their very nature remain dynamic and fluid, the process of engagement and achieving set goals and visions within this context must also remain fluid.
The only caveat is that ideology must at best remain constant, but the human relations and platforms can follow the lines of the human dynamic interface.
Please before we start saying that this is too much English and ask if this is what the delegates want to hear, let me state categorically here that I am not writing for the delegates or the many mutants who pervade our political system but for the intellectuals who study and chronicle our politics for intellectual and historical purposes.
My discussions with Mr. Udofia last week threw this up, even without his knowledge. He had said, ‘ Edgar, my vision remains the same and would use any vehicle available and with the capacity to achieve it for the Akwa Ibom people.
This in a nutshell capsules, a position I had taken at the University of Ibadan in 1991 in a paper that was argued brilliantly by the very best political scientists of the time.
A system that has locked itself up by the denizens who control the levers will only throw up Akan and his plans as a shallow-brained midget if he continues staying there and hoping for the best.
Akan is driven and realizes that he is an outsider. Not an establishment candidate and not a mainstream star but a man who has an appeal to the down throwdden who continue to suffer mindlessly as their leaders serially rape them.
So for Akan, like Water, he has to find himself a befitting passage to flow to the people, and as long as his ideology remains the same – right of center and the clarity of the vision does not demur, then he will move.
This crossing is unlike the others we have witnessed where we have seen people cross on instructions of a godfather or on losing out on the sharing table.
This is totally different. This is based on a sound vision of trust. A trust the people have given him based on his vision and it would be foolhardy of him to just drop it and walk away simply because someone had been told by his God that someone else would take power
If you read this last paragraph very well, you will see a social contract evolving between Akan and the people. The people have listened to him, given him their trust as can be gleaned from the mammoth crowds that follow him everywhere, and he in turn must also as custodian of the people’s trust deliver on his promise.
This was the kernel of my discussions with him. This is where theory meets pragmatic political calculations on the ground.
It is now up to Akan and his team to deepen his engagements with the delegates who now have the keys to the corridor that will open his vision up to the people
For me, I really have no business with the delegates or any of those who hold the keys to the flawed political process, it is for Akan to better arm himself with the intellectual fuel that I am giving him now as he begins to engage his new brothers in his new home.
Me, I am but a writer and a prophet who will continue to say it as I see it.
Thanks
Duke of Shomolu
You know that since I lost erelu, the issue of healthcare management in this country has been on my mind.
The need to impact and push it through private wealth has been majorly on my mind.
I have had a series of meetings with first-class brains like Ife Fashola of Kedari Capital to mention just one as I seek a pathway to delivering this vision.
But my meeting with Michael Oyebola just today seems to have created a very realistic pathway of allowing me to straddle investment banking and my huge network as we aim to impact not only Healthcare but also education.
The meeting threw up a private equity/ impact investment plus a quasi charity platform model, which will see us coral impact funds from discerning three-pronged investors/subscriber base towards these sectors.
As I sat with Michael yesterday listening to him marshall out the structure, I began to feel an excitement well up.
Healthcare and education are critical sectors in the throes of a major collapse. The government is Straddled with its inefficiency coupled with massive corruption and nearsightedness. The government needs help.
At the three major levels of healthcare, we have a debilitating erosion, and Nigerians are losing their lives from avoidable circumstances in their thousands.
I hope to fulfill this dream by working very closely with brilliant brains like Ife Fashola and Michael throwing up a structure that should hit the N50b initial mark within a 3 year period and now turn it towards the primary and secondary levels of the Healthcare system and also the primary and secondary educational system
This dream has taken some time to come. Erelu passed about two years ago as a result of the terrible healthcare management system she was exposed to at one of the highbrow private hospitals in Ikoyi.
This fund will be my life’s work as I would work my network, grow the network, and expand the network with the aim of exploding the fund so that at least one million Nigerians will benefit from it annually.
As Michael closes his laptop after such a wonderful meeting, I remember how I met him.
He had just come into the country being part of the early inward brain gain, which was fueled by the favorable policies of the Obasanjo administration
He was a fund manager with one of the PFAs, and I was at BGL an aggressive and no-nonsense marketer.
I walked into his office and introduced myself and began a wonderful relationship that saw me follow him to GT Assure now AXAmansard before he surfaced at FBN Quest Asset as MD
A brilliant internationally regarded fund manager. His strengths are in quantitative analysis and markets. He understands the markets in a way that amazes the very best.
We will build the fund management module of this project around him and working with other already identified super brains like Ife Fashola, my sister Oginni the MD at United Capital asset we will deliver on this promise.
Meanwhile, we at Hamilton and George have already built a powerful team led by the most brilliant next-generation of Investment banker I have met- Dekola Odedina who will be leading from that end making me all the more giddy with excitement.
Let’s do this
Duke of Shomolu
Dignitaries at the launch of Magnus Onyibe’s new Book – becoming President of Nigeria
I have spent the last 12 hours watching Mo Abudu’s latest offering on Netflix. I find Netflix quite boring as I often glean through the offerings looking for something to attract my attention.
Once in a while, something like Anatomy of a Scandal or Bridgeton will catch my interest, and I will be glued. But none of the Nigerian offerings ever attracted my attention.
Then I caught a younger friend watching Blood Sisters on her phone, and I asked why she was so entrapped. At 26, working as an investment banker and getting carried away at work with Blood Sisters, I made it a point of note to see it when I got home.
The series is so beautiful in its lack of originality that I began to stare in amazement. It’s so brilliantly put together that you must begin to see the high amount of creative energy that must have gone through its production.
The casting, the layout, and the depth of the storyline. Its intriguing fluidity is enmeshed in the suspense that has been designed to capitulate and keep you glued to the screen. Its aim is achieved as you fly into the world of the Ademolas.
As you watch, you realize you are watching so many American movies in this Nigerian series. I saw Dynasty, Starsky and Hutch, Hawaii 5.0, and so many other international films and TV series blatantly copied in mannerisms, plots, and lines.
But you are willing to forgive because its beauty makes you realize that it must have taken a crop of geniuses to have meshed so many plots and caricatures into this bewitchingly exciting story.
Kate Henshaw was perfect as the wooden matriarch. At first, I was afraid she would not be able to carry the role. Her initial shaky performance gave way to a perfectly blended outpouring. I loved her.
But I asked what Keppy was doing there. Cementing stereotypes is not my thing. So, the Igbo man must always be a trader and be eager for money. Keppy was miscast; he didn’t carry it well, while Uche was brilliantly stiff.
It wasn’t her comfort zone, but she did well.
The two lead ladies were near perfect. Ohh, I loved them. Although Kemi was initially stiff, she relaxed later and gave an Oscar-winning performance.
You know, I have a crush on the second lady. She can do no wrong. When Kola was strangling her, I felt like jumping in and blowing her head off.
Her beauty, her carriage, and her striking resemblance to my daughter, Annette, made me position her as my star.
The hitman sent to kill Kola in the initial scene was the worst in the series. I cannot lie; I didn’t understand all that frowning and doing alagbara all over the place. Last but not least, he could not even fight. They ate butter. Although mad, Kola was able to beat him up with bare hands. Na wa for this director, o.
My main complaint was that they didn’t give us enough Kola. Kola was my Denzel Washington in that movie. His looks, charisma, and technique were killing.
He carried the role well. He was perfect, and kudos to the casting director, but he was killed too early. He was left with a huge vacuum as his best man, despite his strong talent not being able to fill it.
The jokers in the pack were Arinze and the Chicago policeman. Arinze is still looking rough and he came with the old Nollywood acting style. This is not Ichokwu, this is Netflix. All that growling and opening of big eyes won’t work again.
Chicago had watched too many American cop movies that he confused himself. He wasn’t sure who he was, whether Will Smith in Bad Boys, Brad Pitt, or Eddie Murphy in Beverly Hills Cop. He just tried to carry all of them together and came up as the weakest link in the movie.
Ramsey, Noah, you exhaust me. The strong silent type popularized by Kevin Costner in the bodyguard for Whitney Houston’s character did not work. much effort. He wasn’t fluid, wasn’t free, and carried a certain tension that reduced his usual sterling performances.
I loved the sexual energy of the second son’s wife. She killed her role as the tempting but ambitious vixen. Her hubby, the bumbling pretender to the throne, was perfect, and their sexual chemistry turned me on.
The part where the cameraman showed us a wiff of her red pants as they struggled to make love was magic. A copy, but still magic.
The director killed me with the bathing and fighting scenes in the rehab. Come and see beautiful, robustly natural naked sisters in that scene. These were real naked African bodies with all the flaws you can imagine-big tummies, droopy breasts, and huge thighs; it was beautiful. I loved it and kept going back to it. Mad
I loved the story. I loved the way it was told and despite the fact that I saw almost 12 movies in Blood Sister, I still enjoyed myself. How else would you explain me not leaving for work this early because of Blood Sister?
So, has Mo Abudu won my respect? I will say she is almost there. This was a brilliant effort, and I must congratulate her for her tenacity and hard work in pulling a great team together.
Blood Sisters is a must-watch, and I give it 4 stars. Well done Aunty
The Duke of Shomolu
I had a long conversation with my friend Wole on African Traditional Religion last night.
He was so engaging and talked superlatives about its mores, traditions, and ceremonies.
He talked about the rules of engagements, the sacrifices, and the powers that come as a strong adherent.
I was not only interested but very curious. He said most big men were adherents and the number one man in the place was having a big ceremony today and as such, we can’t visit the main shrine but we could visit some other ones.
We visited 7 today. They were not as beautiful as the guided mosques and churches we are used to
They were scary and almost childish in their apartments. The first shrine under the second level of the famous olumo rock housed the holy place of the egbas.
The chief priest was nice. He wore all white and held the obvious horsetail. I asked if I could go in. They said no and that only the Alake and Chief priest can enter at a particular date.
Sacrifices are made there; we saw the blood on the floor, chicken feathers, and all other stuff.
The next one was for women. The Iya oluwo. We saw two very old women sitting on mats. We saw the shrine dt cured chickenpox and other childhood illnesses like measles and were told that the Iya orisa who was 137years PLD was still alive.
I begged to meet her but they laughed that she no longer came to the shrine.
We gave them some money, and they prayed for us. The third one was one of my inlaws.
The men saw me and said, “You are our inlaw, welcome.” I was amazed, and they repeated – you marry from Ikija, and I was amazed. How did they know?
The rock transcends two communities – Ikija and itoko – and yes, I was married in Ikeja.
They asked me to come in. I sat in between them, and they welcomed me ‘home’. I took pictures and thanked them for their warmth
I saw two other shrines, but by this time, I was tired and hungry, took their pictures, and went straight into the cave where ancient warriors hid to ward off attackers from Dahomey.
We saw a 250-year-old plant that was used to enthrone the Alake of Egbaland. We were told it never withered.
What I learned today is plenty. The slowness in modernizing their processes and methods is working against them in a digital age.
Making live animal sacrifices, having shrines in scary places, and secrecy of the methods all work against them, esp when competing religions have imbibed the digital age up to getting ‘pos’ machines in churches to collect tithe.
Their penchant for secrecy also allows for a lot of myths and false assertions, which strengthens scary narratives about them and their adherents.
Furthermore, their shrines also evoke fear. Their locations, and their instruments of worship, all evoke fear, and if u compare this with other religions, you will see what I’m talking about.
But from what I saw today was the feel-good factor from its adherents who were warm and were happy to receive us.
They allowed us to take their pictures with us and took time to explain some aspects of their religion but never failed to say, ‘ We can’t tell you that one
As I came down the beautiful rock after inspecting a cave built over 500 years ago, which was still standing, I wondered just how long these beautiful stories would be shrouded in the secrecy of our dark past.
The stories I heard today were exciting, enthralling, and powerfully engaging.
Lovely
Duke of Shomolu
Clemas Effanga is a super exquisite fashion brand that has over the years developed scented threading of male lines.
Here is The Duke of Shomolu modeling some of his pieces in a run down to a private collection – Prive – inspired by the Duke – that would be unveiled to a curated grouping of just 20 high networks individuals.
Scenes from Babakekere
Beautiful faces at Babakekere Command performance
Most men who are sexually active have found themselves in the situation I am about to describe.
She loves you. You’ll love her. The mood is right, and the body language on both sides says it all.
You move, she receives you. You look into her eyes and you see lust. You unhook her bra, and she smiles, and just at the point of entry, she says No.
She carefully pushes you back. But you are experienced. You know her. This does not mean yes. Women are wired that way, you tell yourself.
You continue, and she pushes back, but as she pushes back, She pulls up closer. You are a little bit confused. Her hands are saying no, but her eyes and open legs are saying yes.
You get there, and she is all wet. ready for you. You thrust, and she thrusts back, but she is still saying “No” with her mouth while giving you her all.
Then, you start to hear little moans from her. So you relax and increase the tempo and the moans begin to rise, and by the time you are through, she is screaming down the roof and you climax and roll over and smile to yourself. Yes, I am the man.
It is at this point that your life will begin to change because she does not have control of what will happen.
She may not feel right about it. Yes, she enjoyed it, but something was missing. There was no warmth in his eyes. She begins to feel one kind.
She can’t explain it, but she feels violated. She feels used. She suddenly feels less of a woman. She looks at you as you smile and feels repulsed.
Woe betide you if she now goes to the wrong woman for advice. Then your life will begin to turn around like a yo-yo.
This is the most dangerous part of all of this rape matter. We understand the violent part, where sufficient force is applied. We understand when a weapon is used with full consent, but the part we still don’t understand is the part I just explained.
The woman loves you; she is part of the process, but after it all, she feels violated.
Thankfully, most don’t do anything about it, but a tiny few will go ahead and report it, and there, the multitude of feminist me-too activists will chew you to death.
I watched a movie recently where this played out. He was a married man, and she was single. She was close to the Prime Minister, and he had rough sex with her, which she enjoyed and initiated in the lift.
She tore her blouse herself but couldn’t finish tearing it, so the man tore it for her. She asked to be bitten on her breast so she could masturbate to the scars later, but after it all, she felt violated.
According to her, she felt useless, like a whore because he ‘f..d me in the lift just like that’. She went for advice and Pronto a report of sex without consent was filled out and the same thing she asked for in the lift was used as evidence against the man.
Her argument was that she had said, “Not here, and he didn’t listen.” He explained that not here was part of their love language, and for them, it implied taking me. But who will understand that one in a Nigerian court?
For me, I get scared. I get a lot of interest from women. A lot of them come outrightly to ask for sex. Plenty send me their nudes in all shades.
What has kept me upright is this thing, which I will explain. Once a woman doesn’t feel right about an encounter, you have been raped. Emotional value and security are the currency of the woman.
Once she doesn’t get that from you, she feels less of a woman. So why risk it when it is not really yours to give?
If her intuitions drive that process, all you can do is to enable it by saying the right things, doing the right things, and if she is the material type, buying the right things.
But all in all, you still don’t have control over how she will feel afterward. Not even herself. So why take the risk?
My brothers, my advice to you all at this time is self-pleasure, even with your legal wife.
If you are not sure of the encounter and you really have to come off, masturbate and walk away.
This is what I have mastered, and I want to believe it has saved my life. Masturbation comes to the rescue.
For the man who needs to relieve himself, that can be achieved variously: through a woman, butter, or a hole in the mattress.
Mbok, the hole in the mattress, will save you from all the complexities that will come from an encounter with a woman who is not confident in her sexuality or herself.
In today’s world, all you need to have your reputation damaged is an allegation of rape. See, even groupies who beg to be fucked will come back and allege, and you have to start fighting the fight of your life.
If you are not sure of the nack, wank. Simple
The Duke of Shomolu