#31Days31Writers – Who else leaves a profession in law for her passion? Lynda!

From Afghanistan yesterday we go to the greatest country in the world, Nigeria!! Whoop!

Lynda (with a ‘y’) is a really good friend of mine. Don’t remember how we met but I know she’s gorgeous, is both an employee and an entrepreneur, and her posts on Facebook are a super source of information for me on all things legal and political (especially as it concerns her home state)!

You best be leaving pretty comments on this one otherwise she’ll sue (lol)! Without further ado (notice the rhyme scheme there), I give you Lynda!

Ok so here I was lazing through my Facebook and I see a message from my runaway friend who’s been away like forever but somehow we manage to stay in touch because she’s one of those people who stimulate me mentally and intellectually and that counts for something because not a lot of people do that for me so she’s one of my special people. 

Hi there I’m Lynda Inyareghdoo Adzuanaga. Nigerian, legal practitioner by training and fashion designer by choice and interest. 

2014? Wow! The year of my epiphany or rather the year of the manifestation of my epiphany because I woke ‎up one day late last year and realised I wasn’t really cut out for a regular 9-5 job.  Not because I hated order and regimental life but I wasn’t one to be stuck doing the same thing without the opportunity to ventilate my new ideas and opinions and in a way albeit a sad one my chosen profession particularly in Nigeria isn’t amenable to change so that was my first issue.

Secondly, I found that some ordinarily latent talents were coming to the fore and I couldn’t hold them back any more. Having been a tomboy most  of my growing years and then realising my femininity gave birth to my interest in fashion so apologies to the average Nigerian designer whose cliché line is ‘ I always made dresses for my dolls and bla bla’. I never made clothes for my dolls and even though I had a grandfather who was a tailor, when his sight started failing I always ran away when he called me to thread his needles! I preferred to climb trees with my brother or play football in the streets.

I however found myself as an adult drawn to fabrics and designs of clothes and way before I ventured into the foray professionally I started to create my idea of fashion: simple, chic, effortless and decent and this was represented by me in my style at work and at play. Therefore when the day of reckoning came I didn’t have to do much so I practically hit the ground running so to speak. That is the story of the birth of the line Tailleur Ensembles.

2014 has been interesting, I’ve had the usual challenges faced by entrepreneurs in Nigeria: power, funding, a dedicated work force, a drive for excellence and most recently insecurity  amongst others. 

Like most Nigerian designers upcoming and established, I looked to the West African coast for professional tailors because of the niche they have carved over time in the industry (one of the challenges previously mentioned). So I procured ‎ the services of some Ivorien nationals and after all negotiations were done and they were ready to ship out two bombs went off in Abuja and that was the end of Solomon Grundy literally! LOL. I then had to look inward, to source locally and so far I have been working with locals who often need to be reminded of the need for a standard in every chosen field.

Funding has also featured prominently as a challenge as loans and the likes aren’t easily accessible here; the commercial banks ask for such outlandish terms that are in the same range as asking for your grandmother’s birth certificate! I basically started with my entire savings which doesn’t amount to so much for starters … but on the whole it’s been refreshing, a learning process, learning to delay gratification, patience( I’m a control freak), resilience, improvisation etc. Been working from home but working on/ at getting a business premises that’s easily accessible to my clientele.

Gratitude would be in the regard of me killing that spirit of procrastination that had plagued me for the better part of my life and standing up to do what I really love despite all odds. Also for support from my family, loved ones and friends and indeed detractors who felt I was a loser for leaving a professional terrain to venture into the unknown. All of these have contributed to the nurturing and birthing of this dream.

As the second half of the year creeps in I’m filled with trepidation because I’ve not done all I want to but that in itself is spurring me to do better,work harder, train people so I can delegate duties and above all stand out in my chosen field by being excellent in what I do.

Thanks Chioma for this opportunity! I do hope my story inspires someone who’s nonconformist and leftist like me to go out there and ‎just be what they have always wanted to be. Just go ahead and do  YOU!

I love you babe!

Inyareghdoo

Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous!

Awww, I love you too babe! Coming to see you once I get in for a dress!

That rape/molestation argument, and my experience at the National Assembly

Right.

I’m a little upset tonight, and I’ll tell you why in just a minute. First off, apologies I’ve been inconsistent. I know I owe chronicles from my Hamburg and Abuja trips, and I will get to them in good time. This piece however couldn’t wait.

It is inspired by a post I saw on Joy Bewaji’s page on Facebook this evening, and because I want this piece to have the right context, I’ve got a screenshot for you.

My comment was along the lines of I’d make sure I gave the person a permanent injury, and even if my breast was hanging out of my top or if I put it on my forehead (because it is my body part), it doesn’t give anyone the right to touch it.

Then I saw a comment from a guy who said “You see — I have two daughters, one much younger and I tell them always to dress up and cover up — so that they don’t have crazies stirring at them in an unwelcome manner”.

And that got me really ticked off. For some reason it just really annoyed me. My comment (in response to that man) is italicised below.

https://fairygodsister.wordpress.com/…/this-has-got-to…/ 

Did the 4-year-old in my blog from 2010 dress ‘indecently’? How does a 4-year-old entice a 45-year-old man?

I am not a parent John* (I see you’re throwing that around a little bit now) but I have this thing that my folks (who are parents) taught me, and that is self-respect. They taught me boundaries and God bless them, I have a brother who they taught him the exact things too.

Some men are animals. Not all, but a good number of men are animals. Animals because they lack self-respect, and self-control. Tis’ the absence of those two that make animals in the forest eat one another, do numbers one and two ‘anywhere belle face’, and all the things that generally separate man from beast.

In my first comment I said even if her breast was hanging out, heck even if it was on her forehead, he had absolutely NO right to touch it. That is what separates man from beast. It’s spring now, and the teens here are preempting summer and wearing the tiniest bits in their wardrobe. Are you saying because they are dressed that way they are ‘not being cautious’? Are you saying they are asking to be molested?

When I have children (and therefore become a parent), I will teach my children to dress decently only because it is the decent thing to do, not as a shield against molestation. 

It is these excuses we give for depravity that tire me. Absolutely grate.

Following on from that, here’s an experience that’s barely two weeks old.

I was in Nigeria in the last week of February, and among a number of meetings was one with a Senator. Venue? National Assembly. Now I’d never been there (accompanied or on my own), so I was already a little apprehensive. And it was HOT.

Got there dressed in a knee-length, small-sleeved, black corporate-type dress, and brown heels. I got to the gate and was told I couldn’t go in because they had a policy against sleeveless dresses so we wouldn’t “entice the Assemblymen”.

I swear I pinched myself to be sure I was neither being pranked, nor starring in my own horror movie. I got them to let me in (involved calling the Senator’s office and protesting), but at the door of the complex, I was again told by military men at the door there was a policy against ‘seductive dressing’, including sleeveless dresses. Remember my dress had a small sleeve? All of my attempts at explaining the difference between ‘small sleeves’ and ‘sleeveless’ were akin to trying to catch the wind.

After all said and argued, ladies and gentlemen, I had to go home to change.

Got home, changed into black trousers and a blue long-sleeved top, same heels and the taxi drove me back there (think about how much I had incurred with this Israelite journey). Went in, met the children of God who are the ‘special assistants’ to the Senator, and when my business was done, I started the long walk under the sun outside to where my taxi was waiting.

Next thing a car passes me, reverses a bit, and stops. The right back window goes down and a man tells me “fine girl, leave the sun, come into my car”. I looked at him, gave him the dirtiest look I had, and continued walking. Brethren, the car followed me till I rounded the corner, catcalling, begging me to enter the car and tell him why I was frowning, etc. He didn’t stop till I turned the corner, then the car drove off. It had NASS plates. I know the guy (I went online and searched all their faces till I found him).

Wasn’t it for an animal like this I incurred bills on my taxi, and suffered more exposure to the sun than necessary? Isn’t it for these ones I was sent home because a sleeveless dress (never mind that it wasn’t sleeveless) would entice them? Who on earth are we kidding?

Ladies and gentlemen, you are either an animal or a human being. This excuse we give about women inviting molestation or rape on themselves because of the way they are dressed is sickening.

What did this girl on the way back from her grandfather’s funeral do to invite rape, by 6 men who threw her in a ditch and left her for dead afterwards?

It is also hypocritical because, like I said to the creature of God who asked what a young lady was wearing when she was molested by thugs posing as officials of the Abuja Environmental Protection Bureau, the easiest way to show that your argument is a lie is to let your sister or mom be the victim, be the person raped or molested.

Let’s have this argument if your first question is about what they wore to ‘invite it’. Otherwise can we please train our children up in the way they should go already?

P:S – I did a blog (can’t find it) once where I said I’d set on fire anyone who ever touched my kids inappropriately.

The quest to renewing my Nigerian ‘pali’ (Part Two)

Well, part one to this tale is here.

I wasn’t sure what documents I needed for this ‘interview’ to renew my Nigerian passport (renew o, not get a brand new one) so I took all the documents I had confirming my citizenship. I had to go off my route to retrieve some documents from a friend, and then it was off to the Embassy.

Got there, and I was told at the door that I needed to get a postal order worth £20 from the Post Office. Why didn’t anyone say this before? Mention or even hint at it? Online or the day I filled out the forms? Why?

Fortunately I didn’t need any form of transportation to get there but it was freezing, and was time I could have saved to be honest.

I got back from getting it, and because I already had a ‘number’, I sat down and watched a woman try in vain to control her four young boys whose favorite word in the whole wide world (and response to every request, directive, or scolding) was ‘NO’. I chuckled over and over.

Multiple cold repellents (read as hot chocolate) meant I needed to pee, and so to the conveniences I went. Full stop, but I took pictures.

No comment.

Must have spent an hour and then it was my turn to be ‘interviewed’. Got to the counter and they just confirmed I had paid the application fee, collected the postal order and form, and asked me to go sit down and wait to be ushered upstairs for biometric capturing.

Huh? What happened to the ‘interview’? What of the documents I’d been told I needed to convince Nigeria I was Nigerian? I needed to justify the dossier I’d hauled from home. The man said, “you don’t need them”, and then called out the next number. I wanted to say something, but then I reminded myself that I am a daughter of Zion, said thank you (didn’t believe I had one in me) and went to sit.

Started blogging (obviously) till I heard an argument getting louder and decided to listen (how else would I have this story for you?)

This lady had filed out an application, but didn’t have her old passport. Where was it Missy? She said officials collected it from her at the airport because it was expired. Huh? That’s not normal now is it? The more probable thing is you won’t be allowed to fly in the first instance, or you’ll be turned back at the point of entry.

Madam didn’t want to hear that she needed her old passport or some documentation to be able to get a new one. And so there was a lot of yelling, “do you know who I am” thrown about, all of that drama. Of course that meant that my reading/blogging gave way to tatafo. I started thinking too, who did she think was 5 years old there? What did she mean by officials collected it from her? Which officials? And she walked away from them quietly after they collected it? O da.

I got called for my biometrics, went upstairs, and while I waited, I saw the Dame on TV, leading some prayer session. No I didn’t watch, I just took a couple of pictures.

They prayed, they sang…fill in the blanks…

Got my photo and prints captured and I was asked to come back in two weeks. Sigh.

The End.

Update – I went in on the day and after waiting for about 30 minutes, collected the passport of life and destiny. And I hear I got it easier than most. Either way, I’m grateful!

“I won the lottery!!” – Tolu #31days31writers

Now, Tolu and I have never met. I stumbled on his blog early in the year, where he tries to chronicle everyday of moving back to Nigeria, and after a short while I would run there for a laugh, encouragement, or just a glimmer of light for my dark day.

He is VERY funny, writes brilliantly, and I was excited when he said he would join this project. Holding up the 14th day of my #31Days31Writers project, the lovely Tolu!

My name is Tolu Onile-Ere, I am Nigerian (& British), and I work at Playhouse Communication Ltd, a digital advertising agency in Nigeria.

One thing I’ve learned this year? Well, I found out I was adopted.

Just kidding, although am sure my parents and siblings often wish it was true.

Sorry, couldn’t resist and it felt like I had to say something major. But truth be told I know I’ve learned loads of small things but nothing that major. Wonder if that is something to be thankful for or something to worry about cos it could mean that I have coasted through this year and have not pushed myself.

Okay, I’ll have to think about that and tell you what I learn next year.

What am I most grateful for? I’m grateful for winning the lottery.

Just kidding again.

Ok, no bullshit, everyday I am grateful for what I have – my family, my friends, everything.

And if I could, one thing I would do differently.

Sorry, am writing this so I set the rules. So I’m not saying just one thing:
I wish I had loved more,
lost my temper less,
taken more chances,
worried less,
laughed more,
attended fewer funerals,
been closer to my God,
spent more time with my son…

And I think I’ll stop there.

Feet!!! Tolu!! By the way, Tolu has an amazing blog here… http://playhousecomm.wordpress.com/

“I have learnt that light always comes at dawn” – Alkayy!! #31days31writers

Alkasim was my neighbour at the BBC World Service Trust in Abuja, and shortly before I left the country, he became my boss. It’s not the fact that he is wise beyond his years, it’s not the fact that he’s a journalist of international repute, it’s not even the fact that his knowledge of history always sends me to Wikipedia (earning me the nickname ‘Wiki kenan); it’s the fact that Alkayy is perhaps the most down-to-earth person I’ve ever met.

I would go on, but before I tempt that humility we all love him for, I present my neighbour, Alkayy!

My name is Alkasim Abdukadir, I am fiercely Nigerian. I work as an international freelance journalist in Nigeria, and the link to my most recent piece for African Arguments is here.

I have always known that after all trials and tribulations light will always come at dawn; this Hausa saying is even more blunt –Bayan wuya sai dadi -loosely translated to mean that after the hardship comes enjoyment.

In retrospect this year though, I came to understand that in the end everything will fall into place, not necessarily the way we want but somehow we will get by.

It is amazing what the human mind can endure/ how challenging the times can get. It is doubly tragic that people can let you down, just because they can, to show their god-complex – from family members to friends to bosses and those whose loyalty really matters.

A family member was out of work for two years, because he lost out in office politics, and it became imperative for me to stand-up and support his dependents not because I am the most conscientious person or the most wealthy, not even because I treasure family, but because it was the right thing to do. I must confess when the  requests came sometimes it was not only heart breaking but also debilitating; the thought of what people in this country go through. Imagine this sms: “Please send us money, we are out of food again, we are cooking the last grains this afternoon”.

How could a mid-level manager end up like this? Life and Nigeria happened, I say.

And then imagine the times, when my paycheck was delayed, the untold misery it caused at the other end was just unthinkable.

This is just one of several episodes of need that surrounded one this year.

I am grateful that in the end, succour came in the form of a new job and a new lease of life for my family member; though pressure still persists from other quarters, the biggest hurdle had been crossed. I am grateful that I didn’t falter nor flee when I was most needed. That I remained resolute, even though it was hard, that I shared of my heart when it mattered most.

If I had another chance to do it again, I would do exactly the same, just that this time I would go a notch higher, because light always comes at dawn.

Dapper!!! Whoop!!!

Vote for my neighbour’s article please!

http://africanarguments.org/alkasim-abdulkadir/

Abuja to Lagos: Aren’t you just miffed when people eavesdrop?

Have you followed this Djeregbe trip religiously? Then you’ll know there’s a post from London to Lagos and Lagos to Djeregbe (in one), the one on devotions, the one with the story about the madman, pictures from the entire trip, Djeregbe to Lagos and Abuja, Abuja back to Lagos, and a final Lagos to London post. All of this in seven days. Phew!!!

Officially available to do travel writing, this trip (and all the other trips I’ve made this year) keep screaming out to me that I should take it up professionally. Don’t even know if Booski will buy that but hey, let’s put out the ads first!

Ok, so all good things have to come to an end right? My girl Wumi and I went to Abuja together, and for the trip back to Lagos, staying true to who I am, we raced all the way to the airport! After we’d checked in, dropped our luggage, and started walking to the security gate, we saw the flight had been delayed and so we didn’t have to run.

When we got upstairs though, I was taking off my belt to place in the basket for the scanner when I was told to take off my slippers as well. Now I try not to wear belts or anything else I’d have to take off when I’m traveling because the ‘stripping’ (I’m exaggerating I know) in front of complete strangers just irks me.  Me taking off my slippers here was doubly annoying because the carpet was filthy and what on earth could I have concealed in flat slippers? Not like they would have noticed if I had concealed anything (because the bottle of water in my bag wasn’t detected) but let’s just move on.

While I was grumbling within myself, I noticed a guy wearing a kaftan who came and waltzed through the screening thing (actually walked beside it), while the officials took a break from their duties to chorus, “you’re welcome sir, your people are here sir, have a safe trip sir”, and all that rubbish.

I turned to Wumi and said (to her, not via a public address system to the entire airport, “looks like some animals are indeed more equal than others. That man wasn’t searched, these people are even hailing him.” In Bible speak, ‘while I was yet speaking’, a lady official tapped my shoulder twice (startling and then thoroughly annoying me), and the conversation that ensued is below

Lady official: Why are you talking like that? Do you know who he is?

Me: I don’t know who he is and I was talking to my friend. You shouldn’t listen in on other people’s conversations.

Lady official: Instead of you to ask, do you know he is the D-I-G? (Deputy Inspector General)

Me: I don’t want to know, and you really shouldn’t listen to conversations not meant for you.

And I walked away, ticked off.

We were walking to board,  and I asked Wumi if I said anything wrong (again talking to my friend and not via any device to the entire airport) when another person in uniform (apparently carrying the said DIG’s bag) turned and said, “how can you not know the DIG”?

By this time I was almost smoking from the ears. I raised my voice and said, “what is it about today that everyone’s eavesdropping on my conversations? Was I in any way speaking to you? Please leave me alone!”

He slunk away.

SMH. There should be no exceptions to the rules, especially in a very unsafe, insecure Nigeria. It is this ‘different rules for the goose and the gander’ that have fed corruption to the point of obesity.

And people shouldn’t eavesdrop!

Related articles

• Tales from Djeregbe: The ‘not-so-mad’ madman (fairygodsister.wordpress.com)
• Let me confess: what will be will be (hemaginations.wordpress.com)

Tales from Djeregbe: London – Lagos – Benin Republic!

Happy birthday Nigeria!

English: Political map of the 36 States of Nigeria (English) Deutsch: politische Karte Nigerias (Englisch) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today, the 1st of October is Nigeria‘s 53rd birthday. For some, it is a time to be happy, make merry and bring back the fond memories of 53 years of a fine and shared experience. For others, it will be a sober reminder of the promises that the nation made in 1960, and how far away we seem to stand from those promises. On whatever side of the divide you stand, attaining the ripe age of 53 is a reason in itself to be grateful.

At YNaija2015, we agreed that regardless, every birthday deserves a birthday message. So, we have created Nigeria’s birthday wall here, and we invite you, the informed, the smart, the discerning and the objective reader to leave a goodwill message for your dear fatherland (Or is it motherland?) here on the live blog titled ‘Independence Day Greetings: Happy birthday Nigeria!’

Here’s what you should do. Click on this link here, fill in the details and then your message (in any Nigerian language or in English)! All we ask is that you refrain from foul or indecent language. Keep it responsible.

On behalf of all of us, we congratulate our dear Nigeria for being 53.

 

PS – If we don’t send birthday greetings, who will?

Related articles

• 53 wishes,quotes and prayers for Nigeria @53. (futatalk.wordpress.com)
• I Still Believe In Hope, I Still Believe In Nigeria_Happy Birthday Nigeria! (salvationhouse.wordpress.com)
• Happy Independence Day – Nigeria at 53! (mrshustle.wordpress.com)

My New Chosen Career…

I made a decision this morning, and that is to be very rich. Mind you, I have always wanted to be rich, but this morning I decided on a new course of action to achieve that goal. I am going to get into public office (currently working on schematics) and then I will do one thing – plunder like there is no tomorrow.

I will award contracts to phony companies set up in different variations of my name and the names of my family members, and to my friends as soon as they sign over a minimum of 30% of the contract sum to me. Whether they deliver or not is immaterial, and I can always look good from making a big show of threatening to revoke said contracts when I’m up for a second or third term.

Ahh! I will give personal gifts using public funds, including cars, landed property, trips abroad, livestock, you name it – all that matters is that I’m seen as generous, loving, and supportive. Doesn’t matter that basic amenities in the areas under my jurisdiction are non-existent or dilapidated, that the people whose votes (whether real or stolen) put me in that office are impoverished, or whether I cannot even bear to live in my place of primary assignment because of the alarming level of crime that I have done sod all about. I will give gifts on behalf of my family and myself to whosoever I please, and I won’t give a damn what you think.

Why won’t I give a damn? Errr, because apart from craft cleverly worded tweets and Facebook updates, you don’t do much else. Matter of fact, I can count a good number of your activist peers who pay me nocturnal tea visits, hoping for a slice of national cake to go with it.

Why don’t I give a damn? Let’s see… right. Another reason is because traditional rulers, who should be the custodians of our culture, teachers of right and wrong, and role models for the community, have made camp with political parties that best serve their interests regardless of ideology.

Long as you use the creamiest butter on their bread, doesn’t matter if you’re a rogue, murderer, or pedophile. I’ve been advised that once I’m in that office, they will flock to me, begging to give me chieftaincy titles. And I will accept, because I am an illustrious son of the soil.

You know the biggest reason why I don’t care though? The more wealth I amass, the more immune to prosecution I become. Ahh, there are even some offices I can occupy where something called the ‘immunity clause’ posits that I am above the law.

A thousand blessings to the brains that enacted and ratified that law, it is one of the reasons I aspire to public office. For all the enemies of progress who at one time or the other tried to campaign against that clause, it will not be well with you!

Now, in the event that I offend someone higher up who decides to embarrass with a robbery/fraud accusation, I can decide to engage my army of thugs to fight off the Policemen who dared to try to arrest me, or simply flee to another country to escape prosecution. If the odds are stacked against me and the Police there get a hold of me too, I can post bail, and then escape!! Yes, flee that evil land either dressed as a woman, a circus animal, or inside a drum of oil.

There’s no place like home. I’ll return knowing fully well that after a few days of talking about me and my triumphant entry from my sojourn abroad, they’ll move on to ‘fighting corruption’ in other quarters. And the icing on the cake?

A few years of laying low, bowing at strategic shrines, rebuilding my profile, and of course showing remorse, and I get a presidential pardon! Glory! My slate is wiped clean, and I am free to vie for office again to finish what I started, serving my country with all my strength.

Background reading

Presidential pardon sparks outrage & Nigeria pardons Goodluck Jonathan ally

P:S – originally posted on the Future Challenges site on the 20th of March 2013.

Garbage in, Nigerian Police Force out!

Easy Thursday evening; reading up on the requirements for one job I’ve been eyeing when I stray to Twitter (*sigh*) and see a link to an article by @BellaNaija titled, ‘N150 Daily Meal Allowance, 50 Recruits Sharing A Fish Head… More Sad Facts Emerge about the Nigerian Police College, Lagos‘. Convinced that @BellaNaija is determined to be a gossip blog this year, I click n the link. What I see is an official news report by Channels TV on the appalling, shameful living conditions of trainee Police Officers.

The video below is off the official news report, shot at the Police Training College in Ikeja, Lagos State, where the recruits are fed three N50 meals in a day, =N150.

A little perspective for you: about Christmas time the exchange rate was about one dollar to one hundred and sixty naira ($1 = N160), and one pound to between two hundred and fifty-eight and two hundred and sixty naira (£1 = N258 or N253). So that’s our government, feeding its potential security force on literally less than a dollar a day! A little more perspective; here’s what the President and his Vice have budgeted for their meals in the same 2013. The picture below was gotten off Punch Newspaper.

Do the math, keep dividing till you get to the cost of individual meals. And I intentionally left the feeding budget for dogs in.

And the Police Boss in the video had no scruples with saying, ‘N150 a day, it is very meagre’. No Sir, it’s not meagre, it’s an absolute disgrace! It is the reason the Police Force is a joke!

Christmas 2012 I was driving to an event, and I got to a Police checkpoint. The man said, ‘Madam anything for your boys, make I take buy indomie’. Noodles? I was shamed, and I gave him N500. So it’s degenerated from asking for ‘money for the weekend’ to asking for money for indomie noodles? How is that Police officer supposed to catch a thief? How won’t he subvert the law for the highest ‘indomie money giver’!!

Back to the video. How do we eat like mice and expect to poop like elephants? We grumble and cuss our Policemen for being below standard; after watching that video I’m even surprised we have Policemen at all!

The bit with the recruits huddled around the bucket where they were sharing fish brought tears to my eyes; was reminiscent of movies about slave trade. Sad. Very sad. Can I digress and say that if their training is as bad as their food (and what’s to say it’s not even worse) then we have the reason the Boko Haram insurgency hasn’t been quelled?

Decided to go beyond my ranting to see how much the Police Force gets from the Federal Budget. Massive respect to @BudgitNG for simplifying the budgets, and especially for the pictorial representation. Well done!

Take a look at the picture below:

The total sum allocated to the Police for 2013 – N311, 148, 387, 312.

That figure is further broken into three categories, captured below as well:

Not much detail and I can’t tell how much goes to the 6 Police Colleges from this.

Decided to look at the 2012 budget, it has a little more detail. The total budget was N308, 474, 241, 153, some 3 billion less than the budget for 2013. This is a link to download (and read) the budget for yourself Police Formation and Command Budget 2012.

Thing is, sadly I didn’t find exact figures, and that’s kind of taken the wind out of my sails. Maybe not completely though, because I’m sure we could shave off monies from the N147, 100, 544 going to computer software acquisition (no comment), N44, 544, 722, 278 each for allowances and ‘non-regular allowances (what’s a non-regular allowance), N180, 000, 000 allocated to ‘non-tangible’ assets, (amongst many other funny looking figures) to provide respectable meals for the men training to serve and protect our great country.

Otherwise, can I announce that they are being bred to be corrupt, ill-mannered, inefficient, ineffective; and will function only so it won’t be said that Nigeria doesn’t have a Police Force.

Otherwise, we can put in applications (and early too) for super heroes (Thor, Hulk, Spiderman, Wolverine, take your pick) because we’ll definitely be needing them.

P:S – I didn’t mention GEJ’s visit to the Police College because I wasn’t impressed. I’m sorry.

Related articles

• The Nigerian POLICE Force Holds Religious Crusade To Combat Crime (Photo Inside) (dailygistxtra.com)
• 2012: A Year Of Multiple Disasters (ejaife.wordpress.com)
• Suspected Islamists kill 2 Nigeria police at checkpoint (news.terra.com)