Look away and wash your hands…

Look away and wash your hands after all you are not guilty of any action, just apathy and silence. So what can we do to stop the injustice. 1) Get rid of leaders who have no empathy especially those that dance when kids are being murdered under their watch. 2) Admit that each life matters not just your family or tribe but each child needs to be cherished and protected. 3) Next time an idiot blames a victim of genocide bitch-slap the idiot with some knowledge especially if the idiot is your religious or political leader. 4) Raise your voice in unison with others that give a damn, mobilize for action and shout “enough is enough”. 5) Learn from the past, say and mean it “not on my watch”. 6) Use your time, talent and or treasure to seek change 7) Genocide is not acceptable , not in Nigeria, not in Uganda, not in Central African Republic, not anywhere in Africa and definitely not anywhere. 8) Otherwise look away and wash your hands but please remember to shut up with your bogus conspiracy theories.

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Be the change you desire and be the peace you seek….

As a child growing up in Nigeria, I had the great fortune and privilege of being constantly told that my only reason to exist was to make my world a little bit better. One of the most interesting quotes I read was from a little book called ‘The way’ by Josemaría Escrivá, “To criticize, to destroy, is not difficult; the clumsiest laborer knows how to drive his pick into the noble and finely-hewn stone of a cathedral. To construct – that is what requires the skills of a master.” The quest to create change seems to be a dominant theme of my life.  I know that other kids growing around me had similar experiences since so many of us have dedicated our  lives to becoming  the change we crave in our world. Perhaps our parents were closeted or outright revolutionaries disillusioned by a nation that many returned to after years in the diaspora only to find decay that continues to marinate five decades later into festering, putrid hopelessness. Complacency was not an option, and I learned to shout my dissent, march my dissent, and sing and cry and write, all in an effort to effect change. I also learned that idealism without practical, decisive goals was only fit for the trash can. I also learned that gluttony and greed make nightmares more colorful. Sometimes it seems that all my prayers, words, and actions are futile as change is so so slow. I quietly remind myself that it takes time, perhaps a lifetime to evolve into a master, capable of constructing effective change but that will not stop me from creating my own little oasis of change and peace. Until then, I savor spectacular sunsets as they foreshadow inevitable change.

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Privilege

There was once a man

he lived for his knowledge.

Each day, he would get up

go somewhere,

discover something,

classify something,

paint something,

characterize something,

develop something…

But this man

wore no unique clothes.

His were the norm.

He had no colour,

His was the expected.

He had no accent,

His was the average.

He lived a normal life

Spoke a majority language,

wrapped himself

dominant.

Oluwatoyin Asojo Peterborough Ontario Canada 28th May 1991

Praise singers

There is a new generation of praise singers that constantly sell their souls and voices to the highest bidder. They are so loved by the rich and powerful as they complement every word, idea, spewed by these people for some rice, naira, dollar, or whatever tip, privilege or opportunity that is tossed in their direction. They praise with their blogs, their songs, their dances and worship at the feet of their masters, who can do no wrong. These praise singers are spineless chameleons changing colors and teams without blinking. Curiously resilient their voices are loud and they reap the rewards of their ‘loyalty’ as they ascend to levels previously reserved for sacred cows. Once in a while, however an insane master, unmoved by the incessant adulation, crushes a praise singer, like roach. Before we can get used to the quiet another praise singer arises ululating dirges to the memory of the fallen gong.

The curious case of the anointed TBJ

A synagogue residential hall collapsed upon hundreds of evangelical Christians in Nigeria and over a hundred lives were lost. Families and friends are mourning from Nigeria to South Africa. Even Dr President Goodluck Jonathan (when will he go do the same at Chibok?) came to mourn and stand side by side with the prophet of the synagogue. The dead are dead and may they rest in peace Amen. The plot thickens as the prophet declared that he knew that his congregation would go through tragedies and difficult times. I believe him because this anointed prophet is like an arsonist who sets fires and predicts it would burn. Anyone surprised? Monumental buildings that are improperly constructed will collapse, surely the anointed ‘ s holy water could not collapse proof his building. The prophet needs our prayers not because he is pursued by satanic forces spearheaded by his critics as he claims. But because he has power, money and influence that is guiding the gullible to death, despair and ignorance. Many Christians are quick to claim ‘touch not my anointed’ but we need to be careful. We have seen ministers like Jim Jones, David Koresh, who ended up hosting mass deaths.
None of them are God. The cult of greed and egoistic, self-centered, self-serving, money amassing, prophesy is dangerous in so many ways. BTW I will pray for the anointed that he gets a new vision and keeps his jet of Ebola curing water out of Liberia unless he is sending some soap and bleach as well.

Please see below an image of the building, anyone surprised that it collapsed?

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