I live life in contentment for what it has given. If given the realm of everyday life, the beginning or perhaps what could best be termed as ones’ immediate environment, the inherent differences in languages spoken at home, on the playground, and the medium of instruction through my academic exploits respectively became primal indicators of the extent of a very complex society one was preparing to grow, learn and live in.
These societal attributes has helped to prepare my mind to a life of multiculturalism. Ebira as a language, a tribe, and a people had been traditionally imbued in me as a heritage by my folks, just like those before them also did.
I’m about at a cross rooad between religion and my cultural roots and its inherent influences. For those whom might not be unaware, Ebiraland is tucked in the Middle Belt region of Nigeria. It’s an inselberg laden rocky terrain between the ancient town of Kabba-the ancestral town of the Okuns- the once provincial headquarter in the first republic to the western front making it perhaps one of the many strategic gateways in Nigeria. Flanking Lokoja-Abuja to the North. To the East is an extension from the still born Steel project known as Ajaokuta towards the deltas of the Nigeria. I’m fortunate to have grown up in the Yoruba speaking region of Nigeria-the language of one of Africa’s largest race-with playmates with the usual mix of pidgin English. Coming to terms with the fact that I live in one of the most culturally complex countries in the world has remained an early, and indeed a great realization, as well as a highly esteemed factor shaping my young life.

I’m an African of the sub-Saharan tribal stock…a very proud one to considerable extents; a patriot perhaps amongst the last of the ones left if you ask me. I wouldn’t swap the land of my father’s father’s father for any other.
I’m from the place regarded as the world’s largest black country; Africa’s most populous, characterized by the colourful multi-ethnic mix of people whom could be termed best as indigent, upwardly mobile, and easily adaptable to the extremes of circumstances. It explains why it’s remained one of the most resilient people despite having to contend with the most horid of events in her more than fifty years of self rule. It’s been often regarded as the happiest clusters of human habitation on earth. Even though we have found ourselves in the depth of national despair, we are fully aware given the glaringly appalling indifference just as much as we exude hope, faith, and pride.

I am a Nigerian and this blog is dedicated to unearthing, assuaging and enlightening doubting “thomases” about the unknown Nigeria. Simply some of my views, my thoughts and a great deal of reflection about the country so little is known about except perhaps its Oil, its years of the Military locust, and a hurt ego that has driven its citizens to the far corners of the globe in the quest for good life and for many, the proverbial golden fleece. There are perhaps much more positive attributes than the usual ethnic avarice, cultural or generalized stigmatization, and the legendary indifference that’s become associated with everything Nigeria.

It’s a country of rich and vibrant cultural heritage some of which date back thousand of years of painstaking traditions. Very dynamic and scenic sights from its  green vegetation, it still straddles like a colossus spanning from the ancient hubs of the trans-sahara trade route in the North historically dominated by two great empires-the Sokoto Caliphate, and the Kanem Bornu- while rummaging through the Middle Belt region as the strategic divide down to the aquatic splendour of the Lagos marina, and the mangroves of the numerous Deltas of the Niger that barges into the trans-Atlantic trade route.

These here are some of the stories from my roots, my cradle and my cross as a Nigerian.

This is my story.


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