ASUU Strike: 100 days and counting..

As I collected my children from their primary school this afternoon my little boy handed me a letter signed by the Headteacher. For the record, my first born is a rambunctious ‘experienced’ Year 1 pupil whilst his little sister just started Reception in the same school. The letter was a reminder to parents/carers that the UK National Union of Teachers, the National Association of Schoolmasters and Union of Women Teachers were indeed committed to a one day strike on the 17th of October 2013. The Headteacher wanted parents to know which classes would be closed and which would remain open. She promised to send out another note closer to that date so that Parents would not be taken unawares. She commiserated with parents/carers over the hardship they would face and wished us well.

 

A wry smile crept into my face as I thought about how the strike phenomenon in education had followed me thousands of miles from my days as a 1995 freshman at Nsukka and now to my kids in primary school in the United Kingdom in 2013. One day strike. Indeed. Thinking along these lines, I recalled other strike actions by different groups of workers in the developed western world. Here in the UK strikes by the TfL unions who operate the mass transit rail and tube lines (the Lifeblood of the City) are commonplace. Ever so often the British Airways flight attendants remind us that they exist, and will gladly keep their high heels firmly planted on the ground in order to drive home their grievances. The economic changes in Greece, Spain, Italy, France and Portugal have equally pitted workers from these developed countries against their governments. And make no mistake about it: it has always been over their conditions of service.. yes, its been about the money. I also recall the ‘shameful’ strike by the heavy duty truck drivers in Paris at the eve of the France 1998 World Cup.

 

As the ongoing stalemate between ASUU and the Government draws into its fourth month it becomes obvious that the government is on the offensive in the court of public opinion. The Medics have followed suit, the Polytechnic dons have capped their pens and the Government is fast transforming into a victim. Talk of Billions of naira already released filter out, how the lecturers are overly greedy and not willing to budge. As these two behemoths tussle, parents bear the brunt of the situation, with most ready to agree with the governments rhetoric on ASUU’s intransigence. Striking workers are now progressively being cast as the villains.. unpatriotic boogeymen who are hell bent on destabilizing the nation. Many public commentators often question why public sector workers in these critical areas cannot seek other ways to drive home their demands.

 

Yes, other ways. Like the option being adopted by the teachers in Britain. One day Strike. Indeed. I laugh. Newtons Third law of motion has always proved true that every action will be met by an equal and opposite reaction. Here in the UK, as in other parts of the developed Western World, human dignity has a high premium. The leadership of these nations realize that whatever situation that causes a rational adult to vote to down his tools at the consequence of a very vital job deserves all the seriousness of a speedy and detailed response. These governments acknowledge that they do not necessarily have all the right answers. They accelerate the process of resolution with a measure of sincerity and if it becomes obvious that both sides wouldn’t meet, the agents of the government involved would go as far as to throw in the towel and quit. Armed with this knowledge, the workers also use strikes as a last option: a statement and not a punitive move. They realize that a defined-period strike will surely elicit the required response. No more, no less. In our case, the level of obstinate unionism we have with us has just mirrored the level of insincerity and levity of our government at all levels in genuinely addressing needs of workers at all levels and from all areas. Education, Health, Aviation sectors workers, Power & Energy, Oil & Gas, Emergency Services etc. Comparing us to these countries is indeed where the lack of patriotism squarely rests.

 

As we rode the bus back home, my son started using the aforementioned letter to display his reading skills to his sibling. After stumbling through, he roused me out of my reverie with a singular question: Daddy, what is Strike? My wry smile returned. Dear reader, please don’t ask me how I explained ‘Strike’ to a 5 year old.

 

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-24268852

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People gather for rally in Birmingham Strike rallies are being held in Sheffield, Birmingham and Cambridge by members of the two biggest teaching unions, the NUT and NASUWT

The Pixar Theory

Jon Negroni

pixar theory

Every Pixar movie is connected. I explain how, and possibly why.

In 2012, I watched a video on Cracked.com that introduced the idea (at least to me) that all of the Pixar movies actually exist within the same universe. Since then, I’ve obsessed over this concept, working to complete what I call The Pixar Theory, a working narrative that ties all of the Pixar movies into one cohesive timeline with a main theme. Another, longer, title is “The Grand Unifying Theory of Pixar Movies.”

This theory covers every feature-length movie made by Pixar Animation Studios since 1995. They include:

  • Toy Story
  • A Bug’s Life
  • Toy Story 2
  • Monsters Inc.
  • Finding Nemo
  • The Incredibles
  • Cars
  • Ratatouille
  • Wall-E
  • Up
  • Toy Story 3
  • Cars 2
  • Brave
  • Monsters University
  • Inside Out (in Part 2)
  • The Good Dinosaur (in Part 3)
  • Finding Dory (in Part 4)
  • Cars 3, Coco, Incredibles 2, and Toy Story…

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Only in Lagos.. (2)

(This article was first written on September 18, 2009 as an email to friends and colleagues; Kindly read the post before to follow the sequence of events in this true life story)

 

Exactly seven days ago (September 11, 2009) members of my bus were privileged to be at the right place and at precisely the right time to be used by God to help a woman who unfortunately commenced the final and critical phase of labour right in the middle of an expressway. Driven by an instinct that only a woman can understand, our ladies stepped up to the plate and helped to successfully usher a baby into this world. However whilst on our way back to work and after the last traces of adrenaline had dissipated, a new, nagging worry quietly crept into our consciousness and kept increasing in intensity: What eventually happened to that baby? Did the baby and mother both survive that ordeal? Is the baby thriving? Sure enough we had all prayed and believed..but we just had to know.

First, the not-so-good news. On our way back home on Tuesday we stopped by that spot and discreetly made some enquiries about the baby/couple. We were working from a very poor situation since we didn’t have the couple’s names or addresses and we could only recollect the name of the hospital that the husband had mentioned to the taxi driver. Our search was fruitless. The market women didn’t know where the couple lived; the Taxi cab wasn’t from the nearby taxi park hence he couldn’t be located..even the all-knowing Okada riders had never heard of that hospital. Faced with a seemingly dead end, we sadly left for home.

Incidentally one of us had the good sense to leave his contact number with another good samaritan, a road-side telephone operator who had participated in the delivery. So you can imagine how excited we were when we got news that the husband had returned to the place in gratitude, made contact and would now wait for us on our way back on Thursday evening. However, whatever excitement we had rapidly shrunk in our sojourn to the couples ‘home’. Muddy long-forgotten roads, putrid smelly drainage, densely populated and decayed houses lay on our path. Nevertheless we trudged on until we climbed the wooden footbridge that served as the entrance to a rickety shack on stilts perched on an urban swamp.. the home of our ‘9/11  baby.

A Nigerian proverb in pidgin English tells us that ‘Na God dey help drive flies from cow wey no get tail’. These words instantly flashed into my mind the moment I laid my eyes on the beautiful baby boy of Mr Muyili & Mrs Adijat Raheem. Though he was born in the most unusual place/circumstance and had spent the first 6 days of life in a mosquito infested, damp, wooden shack without any electricity he was so cute, cherubic and healthy. His mother too looked very healthy, with no signs of post partum complications. Boy! They were so happy and grateful to see us ‘cos it was obvious they had also lost hope of any opportunity to say thank you. In all we took pictures, some of us gave tokens, all of us gave our blessings to our ‘9-11 baby’ (going by his parents customs/religion he should be named tomorrow) and we departed for our homes.

Indeed Lagos is much more than a geographical entity.. its more of an experience. Lagos, to the uninitiated, is an impossible place to live in and survive. No (or very little) pipe borne water; very epileptic electricity in the better neighborhoods – none in the shanties; scarce jobs; very little security; endless traffic jams; in fact Lagos is better known for the things not available than for the things that are. Lagosians have however developed a knack for survival, like a flower that doggedly grows amongst set stones. I just couldn’t help juxtaposing the events we’d just witnessed with the central plot from Danny Boyle’s Slumdog Millionaire.Something tells me that we’ve just stumbled into the rise of greatness. This is a genesis…

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Only in Lagos..

(This article was written as an internal email to my friends and colleagues on the 11th of Sept 2009)

lagos_orile

Nigerian roads have often proven to be veritable theatres of death and pain in the form of numerous vehicular accidents, armed robbery attacks and the odd law enforcement ‘accidental discharge’ that occur every other day. However, today, Friday Sept 11, 2009 I was privileged to witness an event so unlikely that it touched the very core of my soul.

Commuting to work in my company’s staff bus, the traffic build up was exceptionally high due to the fact that the driver was 30 minutes late and it had rained earlier this morning leaving the ubiquitous pot-holes filled with water and passable lanes possessed by snarling commercial bus drivers. Our normally jovial commute was quiet with everyone dull over the situation we found ourselves in. The driver decided to take a different route to see if we could better our situation. At around 7 am we were in the thick traffic just after Alafia bus stop but before Orile. I saw a man leading a little child of about two and his wife was waddling behind him. As soon as they cleared the front of our bus the man crossed to the other side whilst the woman stopped abruptly in front of a BRT (Red Bus) bus just beside out bus. She was in obvious pain and she bent over clutching her waist. Time stopped as she started crying out. Within seconds she was on her knees.

Our bus coordinator, affectionately called Mummy B, was the first to notice and shouted that the woman was indeed pregnant and about to give birth. The rest of us, myself inclusive, doubted aloud that it was impossible. However mummy immediately roused us into action. We all alighted from the bus and the ladies rushed to the woman’s side. The head of the baby was already out. A nurse in our midst shouted for gloves but with none in sight we retrieved two used nylon bags from someone’s bag. A market woman on the side of the road rushed down with the plastic sheet that was used to retrieve the babe. Some lady loosened her outer wrapper and another held the other edge to form a makeshift private ward. I fetched the first aid box that was in the staff bus and handed it over to the nurse. They couldn’t find a razor blade so someone fetched out her nail clipper and the knife tool was used to cut the umbilical. At about 7.16 another staff’s head scarf became the first garment that was used to retrieve and wrap a beautiful baby that arrived this world right in the smack center of Mile 2 – Orile expressway! The guys in our staff bus helped to fetch things and other agberos (area boys) helped to control traffic on both sides of the ‘labour room.’ Afterwards the women hailed a taxi and the trembling husband stutteringly gave the directions of the hospital they were headed to. We were all moved to contribute some money to the obviously indigent couple and the cab drove them away. By 7.20am we boarded our bus and continued our journey to work today.

I feel so proud to be part of a company that emphasizes emergency preparedness. Also we were able to do an immediate situational risk analysis and promptly swung into action whilst onlookers were watching with mouths open (Lagos lookers!!). Quick thinking, the presence of a first aid box, and emergency training no doubt played a major part in the life/death drama. These are lessons that we should always take home because you never know when you may be called upon!

I’m also blessed to have witnessed & participated in this event today: on this anniversary of so much wanton loss of life in New York City, USA and on a surface where so many lives are lost every day (Nigerian roads). Also spare a thought for the new baby and his parents and please ask for God’s blessings on that child and also on the wonderful women of Route 6 Staff bus.

What more can I say.. only in Lagos!