Monday, March 21, 2011
Monologues 2: Between Enough And Too Much.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Monologues 1. Waiting to Exhale
This city blows an enervating breeze. I am neither cold nor hot. I want to breath, but not this air. I want to walk, but not these impersonal streets; not with my detached neighbour who cannot tell my moods. I want to lie, but not by myself; not in this massive mess that is my room.
Our connections made in that small rectangular room, cross through capitals, and blow you as you stand. You need your feet to think, all is spinning around you. But you laugh, sweetly. Still you laugh, and I close my eyes and imagine that NYC apartment or maybe you in front of your dance class, holding the phone, waving at your fellow dancers who pass by, saying to me, I miss you.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
FROM THE ARCHIVES...
(From the diary of a young lawyer)
Monday
Something tells me today is not a good day. I am in at a few minutes past nine as usual and don’t expect my boss in until about ten or eleven. I wonder how long I will have to practice law like this and in this unhappy state. I wish I had more precedents and that I didn’t have to find out everything myself from scratch. I miss the days when I looked up to seniors who were sure about the state of the law and challenged you with exact positions and authorities.
Suddenly my work accident on Friday has become an issue and I wonder if all this is worth it. I accept liability but resent the tone and language of my boss who seems not to care that certain words are used only on battle fields. Salaries are overdue by one day and I can’t wait to cash my cheque. The girl who sells credit on the corner has been eyeing me strangely since I asked her to give me a one thousand five hundred naira MTN recharge card on credit. I miss my red wine- my supply has since run out and my car is low on fuel.
Tuesday
I am taking my time. This particular Federal High Court where our matter is, sits at 10am. As is typical on court days, the boss appears on edge and slightly hyperactive. I stay out of her way and go to court on my own in a taxi. I am tired and don’t feel like driving. I get to court at 9am and I know it’s going to be a long wait. This is bad because I am in no mood for chit-chat or saying anything to my boss. Suddenly she goes into manic-hysteria mode because she forgot the case file in the office. I pity the secretary whose job it is to prepare her things for court, even though clearly it is not her fault. She transmits a good dose of that hysteria through the phone, barking and threatening. The driver gets his own share, for the boss has to use his phone, seeing as she also forgot her phone. I stand by and watch all of it, telling myself, I could never take that from someone whose only edge over me is the privilege of a head start and some more money (I admit that’s quite an edge!).
Court doesn’t sit and the embarrassing hysteria has gone to waste. She still has some left in her though, the boss! For me and for the Secretary. This must be the juiciest part of the hysteria for as soon as we get to the office I hear words said to me that I would not let even my father say to me. ‘Never talk back to the boss’, I say to myself, ‘especially if the boss routinely forgets that not everyone she pays is her docile driver’. ‘Calm down,’ I add, ‘you are probably her first real non-domestic staff as the sole boss, so she must forget from time to time the difference’.
But it does not abate. I ask myself what I have to gain by staying. ‘Just the salary’, I tell myself. So I finally fight the mental dread called insecurity; that fear of losing the security of paid employment even when one is completely unfulfilled and is treated less than desirable dignity.
Wednesday
Twenty four hours after emailing my resignation (and giving one months’ salary in lieu of notice- I feel power in giving the now ex boss money!) and feeling the weight of the world off my shoulders, the depression begins to set in. Suddenly there seems to be no structure in my life. Suddenly nowhere to rush to at 9am. Suddenly I miss the screaming in Engliigbo at ancillary staff: “Friday! When you get there, kpoo the man!” or “Blessing! nyem the land line...”
Gratefully I get a brief from an old friend needing emergency legal services: a partnership agreement to be signed in Lagos in 24 hours. Thankfully, something to engage me at my most fragile (and impecunious) moment.
I deliver at the end of the day and they like it! And I get my cheque!!!
Thursday
My good friend and senior Musa introduces me to the Magistrate courts. Before now I have never been to the Magistrate courts as a legal practitioner because of the policy of the ex-boss of not going to Magistrate courts. I have always thought it slightly presumptuous for someone of her legal experience but of course I don’t ever say that to her. The Magistrate court is quite interesting. I am appearing with Musa in a fraud case. The matter just before ours is between a landlord and tenant. The Plaintiff, an elderly Igbo man, glowers at his tenant who has managed to stay in his house for an extra 4 months on a legal technicality. She grins, stopping short of sticking her tongue out. The man takes the box.
““And what do you do for a living?” The metrosexual looking lawyer asks his client.
“I am a pastor in private practice” The client replies holding his head up, as if there was something inherently noble about not just being a pastor but one in private practice.
I can’t hold myself. I put my head down and laugh. It feels good and I cannot not remember when last I laughed heartily and sincerely on a work morning. I am happy.
Friday
I am surprised that this High Court is sitting today. The registrar told me once that the Judge didn’t sit on Fridays. I am here to hold brief for someone in a matter under the Undefended List. I scan my brain to remember if my ex-boss has any matters in this court. My quitting wasn’t particularly with hugs and kisses so I am not looking forward to seeing her bespectacled face anywhere around town.
My Lord is fond of going off at tangents and discussing politics and religion. In fact , once he asked his registrar to go get his Bible so he could tell a story about a man in the Bible with my name. Today he is discussing a man of God in Anambra whose sermon touched him. Then he goes on about the bad roads on the way to the East as he was going for his learned brother’s mother’s funeral last month. ‘I led the delegation’, My Lord declares proudly. The lawyers in the first few rows upon who My Lord has his intent gaze, all nod in acknowledgement of the immensity of his task and the greatness of the risk on the road. My Lord smiles and chips in something about the sad state of the country before going ahead with the case at hand. A young lawyer beside me is hissing and looking at the time. He seems like he would rather be at the Corporate Affairs Commission pursuing some company name Availability or Legal Search which his boss has no idea about.
I head for the Corporate Affairs Commission to file ‘same day’ incorporation. I see one of my former colleagues. It seems like one month already. He tells me the ex-boss has employed two men to replace me. I am happy for her. She must miss calling me 19 times every day to keep tab on things. And to be honest I also miss the rumbling feeling in my stomach when I see her 11th call and I need to go to eat or use the bathroom.
Friday evening is NBA meeting. Maybe I will see the ex boss, maybe I won’t. I wonder if the ex-boss resents me for just leaving without notice or if she realizes what I think of her.
I will go for the meeting and be bored and have a beer to drown out the annoying rowdiness of lawyers struggling for food like ravenous wolves at the end of the meeting. I will tolerate the annoying old lawyers whose anthem is always ‘wait for your time’ or ‘these young lawyers have no respect’. It is campaign season and I wonder how many young lawyers will be pressured into stepping down for their seniors at the bar. I will try to ignore the questions in my head each time I realise that perhaps fifty percent or more of lawyers at NBA meetings are from the same ethnic group; (knowledge of that language is crucial to understanding any serious side talk.)
Friday night is club night and when I am on the dance floor no one will call me a young lawyer or scream at me or ask me to wait for my time. I won't need to know anyone or any specific language to feel comfortable. There will only be laughing and vodka and loud, mostly Nigerian, dance-hall music. And I will dance until my knees start to ache.
.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
DORIS DE HOUSEGEL (a story in Nigerian pidgin)
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
MOVIE REVIEW: INALE by Jeta Amata

A GLANCE AT THE ADAPTATION OF AN IDOMA FOLKTALE IN THE MUSICAL FILM INALE.
To begin, I must agree with a friend of mine who suggested that the title of this piece might be misleading, for this is not some high academic expose. I will attempt to justify the title.
I grew up, like most others around me, on folktales. Whether they were indigenous or foreign, there was always a good dose of didactic stories which gained notoriety through repetition. So I recall the Hausa folktales (to which every aunt and uncle added some twist of their own) my favourite being the story of Bakin Wake who sacrificed himself to save the village [from which the Hausa word for suicide bomber- dan kunar bakin wake is derived from. I also recall English folktales which I learnt in school. The modern relevance of folktales is seen in the many adaptations of folktales into cartoons and films whether it be Snow White, Cinderella or The Water Horse. I find that one of the advantages of folktales is their simplicity and their timelessness. Folktales lend themselves to easy transmission into different situations and time periods. However one challenge with the adaptation of folktales is that sometimes the reliance on the easy and timeworn symbols and metaphors which characterises many of them, can make the adapted work unforgivably bland, predictable and boring.
Before I discuss INALE, the ambitious new Nigerian movie by Jeta Amata, produced by Keke Bongos let me say a little about adaptation of folktales in film. I found the definition in The Greenwood Encyclopaedia of Folktales and Fairy Tales by Donald Haase quite useful. The author defines adaptation as the process that occurs when folktales and fairytales are changed into new versions or variants in the course of their transmission. The adaptation can take one of two broad forms: duplication, where there is a faithful retelling of old tales intact with core ideologies and predicable moral lessons OR revision, is the critical adaptation where the new version implicitly questions, challenges or subverts the story thereby suggesting a different approach to previously settled notions and ideas.
INALE is according to the movie’s official website, ‘a folklore told in Otukpo, Benue state... a tale about true love, betrayal, family, duty and tradition; the first Nigerian musical ever in celluloid.’
Ok, so let’s go straight into the story, or my summary of it. A white American grandfather tells his granddaughter a tale from one of the many places he has visited- the Idoma tale of a beautiful princess who is in a love affair with Ode. To gain her hand in marriage, Ode must follow the tradition of wrestling all who want to challenge him for her hand in marriage. It is a free for all contest. Ode wrestles and beats all the contestants but one- a stranger from a nearby enemy village. He loses in a fair fight and loses Inale. The King is honourable and lets his daughter follow the prince of a rival village who has won her in a fair fight. Rules are rules. On her way to the village of her husband-to-be the maid with whom she travels drowns her and lies to Inale’s sister that she commited suicide at the thought of being with a man she didn’t love. Inale’s sister falls for it and hatches a plan to let the maid impersonate Inale so that the rival village doesn’t see it as a provocation that Inale isn’t delivered. The maid reaches the village, becomes queen and starts maltreating the princess as her slave. Ode who cant bear to lose his Inale runs to the village to challenge the prince for Inale. On his way Inale appears to him as half human half fish and tells him that if he doesn’t wrestle the prince and beat him by sunset she will become a full fish and will be gone forever. He goes to the village, convinces the prince to wrestle him, loses quite a number of times again, but wins the last time. The crown prince who is honourable lets him take Inale. The only hitch is, Inale isn’t Inale but an ambitious maid turned queen. Ode tells him what he has to do and they both run to save Inale before sunset. They have to smoke the fish part of her to make her human. They try and it seems they have failed. They mourn her through the night. But at sunrise she is suddenly alive. They rejoice.
The movie was shot on celluloid which made the production good to look at, and the songs of the legendary Bongos Ikwue were a beautiful accompaniment to the story. Indeed for the first five minutes it was hard to tell whether it was an American or Nigerian production. The songs were performed beautifully with stellar performances by Dede Mabiaku who played King Oche, Inale’s father.
Inale is an adaptation you could call a duplication. There was an attempt it seems to faithfully retell the Idoma folktale. Now, seeing as there is nothing sacrosanct about a folktale which precludes it from being improved upon or scripted for the best dramatic effect I thought that its being faithful to the folktale didn’t add any dramatic value to the film. In fact it made the adaptation bland, and predictable. I wondered if it was the laziness of the script writer or the deliberate disingenuousness of the production that made it so bland. The culture that the film sought to portray was heavily undermined by, in my opinion, the directors camera which didn’t really give us a feel of the dance, (the camera kept going round the masquerades and dancers instead of showing us the dance itself, as it did during the wrestling match) and what is an African musical without dance! I found this grossly lacking.
Let’s look at the tale itself before we get back to the production. A musical in my opinion is not an excuse for a script lacking drama. Again, I kept wondering if Ode, who was touted as Inale’s saviour was portrayed as having any honour at all. He LOST Inale in a FAIR contest. There was no cheating. To have him run after Inale like a little child whose paper kite has been blown off by the wind made him look more weak than strong. He was a sore loser, that’s it. There was no justification moral or otherwise for him getting Inale after clearly losing fair and square several times over. Now this part of the tale could have been remedied by tweaking the tale a little bit to provide a real justification for Ode deserving Inale. This is the hard job of a script writer who is adapting a folktale for screen- to preserve the core elements of the tale while adding value by way of drama and content, both of which was utterly lacking in the beautifully produced movie.
Another thing I found was that the maid-turned-Inale-impersonator was not handled properly. The maid seemed to come out of nowhere with this ambition of becoming great. There is no background to her and all we see of her before her betrayal is her in the background like any of the other extras in the movie. So her rise to prominence was sudden and without basis. A little background would’ve helped. Now one could argue (as someone did while we were watching the movie) that it was good for suspense. In theory, I agree. But in INALE, no such suspense was achieved. Again i emphasize that it takes more than an ordinary script writer to adapt a known folktale for screen and make it worth 90 minutes of our time.
I said earlier that I liked the rendition of the Bongos Ikwue songs, the most prominent of which was my personal favourite ‘Cockcrow at Dawn’. I thought however that this song should have been edited for the musical which was set in a time in Idomaland where there were not even bicycles. Dede Mabiaku, or King Oche, sang: ‘will he ever get there...where the traffic never jams...’
Surely he wouldn’t be talking about ‘traffic jams’ where people walked barefoot between villages. The song, the singer and the context were clearly incongruous, making a mockery of the entire scene. I thought that since the movie was ambitiously called a musical, more attention should have paid to the songs and have them also adapted for the purpose and the story. Typically, the highlights and most dramatic moments of a musical are done in song. It is very important that the writers make very good use of the lyrics for each song as this will be the vehicle for telling most of the story. In the case of Inale, the songs were already written and what could have been done would have been the harmonisation of the song and the story. Not much attention was paid to this.
ortant. The wrestling scenes, were just embarrassing for a movie that claims to be a musical. I will refer to a classic here. West side Story as a very successful musical made good use of this dance/fight technique. The fight scenes were done entirely in dance and carefully choreographed. I am not by any means comparing INALE with West Side Story, but it seems basic that a key scene (one of the most important for INALE) in a musical which has a fight where the hero loses his lover should be more dramatic. Here were two potentially amazing wrestling scenes, both central to the story, capable of being the high points of INALE, squandered. I say again that an African musical without dance is no musical! It is not enough for the characters to sing beautiful songs at intervals. At every point the score has to be deliberate and calculated for dramatic effect, not melodramatic as was the case with a lot of the singing in INALE. There seemed to be a forcible thrusting of the songs on the script where there seemed to be any similarity between song and story.
So, why did I begin with all the academic noise in the beginning? Someone insisted that the movie was based on an Idoma folktale and thus they had to be faithful to the tale. My opinion is, not necessarily. The producers could have stayed faithful to the tale without sacrificing the drama. Again they could have stayed faithful to the tale but used the songs for the desired dramatic effect. However, they didn’t have to stick completely to a tale that was bland and predictable. If they insisted they could have improved upon it. No story is so bad that it cannot be improved upon.
My verdict? It is a tremendously ambitious attempt at producing a musical. The effort is commendable and it is good to see Nigerians who aren’t afraid to spend good money to get quality. However its ambitiousness seemed to be its own undoing. More time and resources seemed to be pumped into the production to the detriment of the very basis of the film- the script. Lazy scripting, good production, lack of attention to important detail. And I say important detail because certain unimportant details seemed to get attention, almost as if the producer/director wanted more to impress the Nigerian audience than to make a good film. Case in point, Inale’s fish tail in the water. Impressive. But unimportant.
The acting I considered very good with impressive performances by almost all the characters. Casting is the one aspect I didn’t have any problems with. The songs by Bongos Ikwue are timeless and the renditions were good.
As a musical I wouldn’t rate it very highly, but as a debut project, considering the tremendous constraints Nigerian professionals have to deal with, I would say it is commendable.
Monday, October 25, 2010
THREE POEMS
Yesterday I wondered
if it was the taste or smell
or that strange thing in between that betrayed me-
Our reed has drifted too far downriver
I think of how these thoughts
can reach you upriver-
God no longer sits in your corner
and the Devil will not go there
I have only discovered
how much darker my lips have become
how silly I look puffing smoke
how wide my nose gets when I smile
and the taste on my tongue of tobacco,
after mint mouthwash...
I know now that taste on your tongue:
the taste has become you
today I find a recipe for you on a platter
in my head:
MINT
1 CANCER STICK
FIRE
1. Put generous portions of mint in the mouth
2. Hold cancer stick with the lips
3. Light up, shut eyes, drag...
4. Serve your presence on a platter
... with a smile to taste
MUTATION
you used to dream
of kings with balloons and candy
you used to dream…
i would laugh
you used to speak
of painless circumcisions
and of doves, white doves-
while we both could see
the dark hollows of mouths
while we could perceive
the odor of charnel houses
and hear the desperate beating of hearts-
you floated on your dream-raft
i laughed!
now i see
you have learnt much:
to tell sincere lies, smiling
to sit in dark rooms
that reek of bullets and ballots…
you have eye bags now-
you no longer sleep
you can now suggest
for plan b
a smart solution
like chaos…
ERASING YOU
I look
through this olive green translucent pencil
The 0.7mm lead is broken
I feel my dreams, break
under the light pressure of scrutiny
I shake my hand to keep awake-
The broken bits hit against the hollow plastic
reminding of beads on calabash
actuating delirious dancers
with plastic smiles on their sweaty faces,
smiles which end with the dance…
All I have of you is this frail pencil
which once told your tales
I feel your prints as I hold it,
rolling it between forefinger and thumb
hearing the broken lead
actuating the dancers in my heart …
And I write.
I am not sure if I should write this-
the dance has ended
I erase the three words I have written
The eraser is good
It leaves no trace.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
INTERNATIONAL REPRESSION MECHANISMS AND VIOLATORS OF INTERNATIONAL HUMANITARIAN LAW

- The disproportionate use of force against the civilian population and the specific targeting of civilians during military operations;
- long-range artillery shelling, and other military operations that are being used to target or indiscriminately fire on civilians;
- the systematic destruction of civilian property. This includes the burning and destruction of homes, the burning of crops and the killing of livestock;
- summary executions and execution of people in detention;
- widespread torture and ill-treatment in detention, including in particular allegations of the deaths of at least five persons as a result of torture by police and
- indefinite detention leaving the victims incommunicado, without access to their lawyers.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
CORRUPTION AND THE LAW: THE CORPORATE AFFAIRS COMMISSION AND THE COURTS-
If gold rust, what will iron do?- Geoffrey Chaucer
I begin this short essay by stating my credentials: I am only a new lawyer, having qualified barely 12 months ago. I am very young. Very inexperienced maybe. Perhaps that is why these things shock me enough to write about them. Perhaps that is why I have not yet come to terms with this solution-resistant affliction.
The word corruption in Nigeria has become cliché and all the more so when speaking in general terms. I thought of this just a few minutes before I began typing. But I also thought of Bess Myerson who said that the accomplice to the crime of corruption is frequently our own indifference. Perhaps this quote alone is my biggest motivation. I do not expect that things will change after I publish this. But I expect to feel better for nothing in my estimation is worse for a human with a conscience than to lose the ability to be surprised and shocked at impropriety.
When the very learned lecturers at the Nigerian Law School taught me the procedural law, they prepared me for a career where precedent is ultimately more important than creativity. One of the things they taught me was the procedure for registration of companies at the Corporate Affairs Commission. One thing they didn’t teach me was that there was an easy way to fast track things. As easy as one thousand naira squeezed in someone’s palm to get my company name approved in one day while others could sometimes as long as two weeks.
They didn’t tell me how aggressive the court bailiffs would be if I insisted on not giving more than a fair price for serving my processes. They didn’t tell me I’d have to bargain with officers of the court to do things that they receive a salary to do. I wonder why there are no standard rates for services in courts such that lawyers are left to the whims of officers of the court; left to haggle as if one was in a second-hand goods store. I remember trying to serve a Writ of Summons on some defendants within Abuja. I was going to provide transport for the bailiff- an air-conditioned car, something he surely was not used to. I was asked how much I was going to give to the bailiff. I asked back: “For what?”. The bailiffs job, for which he receives a monthly salary is to, among other things, serve court processes. What did I get for this suggestion? The lady at the desk said to me in Hausa: “Wannan lawya, kana da mako.” My translation: that I was a stingy lawyer. Eventually another lawyer in the office suggested I offer two thousand naira which was turned down. Apparently, this is a common practice, for none of the lawyers in the room found anything strange about it. Some lawyers were even irritated because I was wasting time and they were waiting for their turn. So, I should have just made a good offer and gotten the hell out of their way.
So, what is the big deal, you would ask. Well, the big deal is that there are some sectors that cannot afford corruption. The big deal is that lawyers who ought to be above reproach are mostly silent about this while they scream on about national corruption and injustice. They appear on AIT everyday and grant interviews talking about unconstitutionalities and corruption and injustice. They claim their place as ministers in the temple of justice but would gladly give that extra one thousand at CAC or not argue when the bailiff demands some money because his matter is urgent. We cannot be champions of free and fair elections and human rights and freedom when we give little bribes while we work.
I believe the legendary statesman Awolowo when he said in 1975, that the eradication of corruption from any society is not just a difficult task: it is without dispute, an impossible objective. However, it is also not acceptable to have corruption as the norm and all other things as exceptions- especially not among lawyers. Indeed it should not be acceptable anywhere.
I am sad each time I perceive the overwhelming heavy stench of rottenness that permeates everything Nigerian and indicts us beyond defence; beyond defence every time we lie to ourselves with those four misleading words: good people, great nation; beyond defence every time we add our superficial smiles to the odd number of happy people. It has become clear to me, at least in the past year that this country is in trouble. A friend of mine once said that it is wrong to say Nigeria is a failed state; Nigeria is not even a state, but a huge disorganized village. I laughed when he said it but everyday and with every case of impropriety I come across, I reconsider his statement.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Sabon Kitso. A Hausa Poem on the purported Nigerian Rebranding
Sabon kitso
Sabon kitso
Tsalle da nitso
a sabon kitso
Ba su tunawa?
Ba a Sabon Kitso
Da kwarkata
Ba juyi, ba rawa
Ga gashi ta yi kawa
Da kwarkwata
Mun yaudara
Muna takama da kabido
Hadarin kuma- na kasa
Sabon kitso!
Gashi a cinye-
Gaba da baya
Mai kitson mu kuma-
Kuturuwa!
Kuturuwa mai-kitson makauniya
Makafi!
Ana yaudaran ‘ya’yan mu
Gurbin ido ba ido bane
Nemi gurbin:
Idon zai fado ciki
Wanke gashi:
Ba sai an yi sabon kitso ba
Kori kuturuwa da tsabta
Ba da kidi da rawa
kare zai san ana biki ba
A gani a kasa
kare ya ce,
A gani a kasa!
Monday, December 22, 2008
RAINDROPS AND ROSEBUDS
Raindrops and showers
Rosebuds and flowers
Can you see it changing, forming?
Do you see it becoming…?
Can you hear my heart beat
Like a pestle crushing wheat?
The wind today blew hard and long
As I lay listening to a rock song
The raindrops dropped and grew into showers
And I wished that I had a mystic’s powers
I wished as I saw in every drop, your face
That you were like a flower vase
Where I’d keep the wild flowers of my heart
Or that you were a work of Gothic art
Stolen from Europe in the Middle Ages
Bought for the price of a hundred men’s wages
To adorn my home, eternally
Standing right next to my effigy
Do you feel it, just like me,
Can you feel it, can you see-
How the air ripples as my heart beats?
If I were Shakespeare or John Keats
I would say it better in verse
If I could lay upon my self a curse
My craving would be but for you
To roam the earth a wandering Jew
To see and smell and hear and touch
Be it a little or be it much…
Can you see it changing, becoming,
Do you feel it forming…?
Raindrops to showers
Rosebuds to flowers?
Raindrops and showers
Rosebuds and flowers
Can you see it changing, forming?
Do you see it becoming…?
Can you hear my heart beat
Like a pestle crushing wheat?
The wind today blew hard and long
As I lay listening to a rock song
The raindrops dropped and grew into showers
And I wished that I had a mystic’s powers
I wished as I saw in every drop, your face
That you were like a flower vase
Where I’d keep the wild flowers of my heart
Or that you were a work of Gothic art
Stolen from Europe in the Middle Ages
Bought for the price of a hundred men’s wages
To adorn my home, eternally
Standing right next to my effigy
Do you feel it, just like me,
Can you feel it, can you see-
How the air ripples as my heart beats?
If I were Shakespeare or John Keats
I would say it better in verse
If I could lay upon my self a curse
My craving would be but for you
To roam the earth a wandering Jew
To see and smell and hear and touch
Be it a little or be it much…
Can you see it changing, becoming,
Do you feel it forming…?
Raindrops to showers
Rosebuds to flowers?
THE LEGAL CLINIC- MY PET PROJECT

The Ahmadu Bello University, Faculty of Law Legal Clinic is the effort of a group of students whose passion is to provide community development services to people in and around the university community. Their particular mandate involves giving free legal advice and consultancy. The group is made up of Law Students from various levels, supported by Staff Advisers who are practising lawyers.
The group as it now exists was started by Elnathan John, a 500 level law student in the Faculty of Law who has led two successive sessions of the Legal Clinic. Barrister S. K. Musa, a practising lawyer of over twenty years, provides the group with the much needed practical support as the Staff Co-ordinator of the Clinical Legal Education unit in the Faculty.
This Clinic has received the full backing of the Faculty of Law which has endorsed and adopted the project.
LEGAL CLINIC 2007: OUR MEMOIRS
INTRODUCTION
He who would do good to another, must do it in Minute Particulars: General Good is the plea of the scoundrel, hypocrite & flatterer
William Blake, JERUSALEM.
Millions of humans, if not billions at one point or another in their tortuous existence think of doing good to people. They find themselves wishing that they could some thing or another to relieve a person’s suffering or improve the quality of a person’s life. They wish and that is all they do. Perhaps if the transcendental God were to judge them, they might just pass the test of goodness. Yet on earth, and for all practical purposes, it is only those who actually go out of their way to perform acts of graciousness and kindness that count as good men. Further it is only those whose goodness can be traced to some specific act who will bask in the timeless glory created by posterity.
We thought of good; we went out of our way to do good; we did good in minute particulars.
We began preparations for the clinic about mid- July. Since we already had a template from the last session to work with, we did not need to work from scratch; we knew what we wanted. It was important to find out who exactly would be beneficiaries of our free service. Not by coincidence, we chose three places in Zaria namely Zaria City, Sabon Gari and Samaru.
Perhaps our most eventful experience was with the Police. In view of the fact that the event was to be held outside the school campus, it was necessary for us to inform the police and request for their participation. At the Zaria Area Command which covers the entire Zaria, we were received quite kindly. We were able to meet with both the Area Commander and the Divisional Police Officer without much protocol. They informed us of all we needed to do and pledged to support the program. We made some friends at the station and even had the calm looking DCO drive us back to Kongo. It came to us as a pleasant surprise that the police could be so nice. However we met a sharp contrast at the Samaru Division. Thinking we would get the same kind reception we got at the area Command, we marched confidently into the police station. Much to our chagrin we were hounded by the policemen on duty. The questions “Who are you?”, “Where from?”, “What do you want?” came so quickly and in an impatient loud voice that we were confused as to which question to answer first. We were asked to bring out our Identity Cards before we were even allowed to say anything. With our spirits dampened, we left the station with a directive to write formally to the DPO. However, a subsequent visit exposed the reason for the initial scare. The station was close to a highway which linked two states, Kaduna and Katsina, as such being a thoroughfare for armed robbers. They thus treat each stranger, especially well dressed as we were, with extra ‘caution’.
Perhaps the greatest task was that of raising funds for the Clinic. We had a scary budget and ten days to find the money. We received a lump sum (which took care of sixty percent of our expenditure), from the Dean of Student Affairs, Dr. Adawa a few days to the event. Professor Tawfiq Ladan and Dr. M. N. Maiturare also supported the project immensely. However before that we sourced funds for logistics from our kind lecturers both from the Faculty of Law and beyond.
For Sabon Gari their most prevalent problem was that of landlord- tenant relationship. Police brutality and manhandling was also on their list. In Samaru we had a lot of cases of spousal neglect and abuse. Particularly, we were able to assist a neglected woman who had severe problems taking care of children. We were able to begin the process of aid by linking her with WRAPA (Womens Rights And Protection Agency) to help her learn a trade. Eventually we paid a token for her to begin learning Fashion Design/ Tailoring at the United Nations Development Programme Assisted Skill Development Centre in Samaru.
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ELNATHAN JOHN
CLINIC HEAD