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Understanding The 2024 Situation In Nigeria

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By Adeola Aderounmu

In 2024, some states in Nigeria do not produce a pin or a broom.

Understanding The 2024 Situation In Nigeria

In recent days (this February 2024), the criticisms against the Tinubu Jaguda government have toned up. There are reports of people dying of hunger. A woman fainted and her children are starving. A bag of cement is 9000 naira. A lot of things are displayed online with prices hitting the roof and bursting off.

But, how many of these problems in Nigeria are handiwork of Tinubu’s jaguda government and how many of it are due to the (stupid) expectations from about 200 million people? My explanations are long and perhaps repetitive.

Things are expensive globally

    The rise in cost of living in recent years, especially since the inception of the Russia-Ukraine war, is on a global scale. In Sweden, I know of an interest rate on housing that flew from USD 700 per month to USD 1300 per month. How does a civil servant anywhere in the world prepare to cough out so much difference every month on mortgage? What about the cost of food, transport, health care and other stuffs? In our stores and supermarkets in Sweden, prices have hit the roof and a lot of families are struggling. But this essay is not about the situation in Sweden.

    In a country like Nigeria, where the minimum wage is N 30 000 (< 20 USD), the hopes after the emergence of the Tinubu Emilokan jaguda government was that there would be a positive change. The man, Tinubu, made so many promises some people thought he would be their messiah. It’s turning out to be another episode of a long series of broken promises in Nigeria’s horror-filled politics.

    Nigeria is running a useless system of government

    Some of us have mentioned this several times but majority still troop to the ballot boxes every 4 years to keep the useless and senseless system of government working. As long as you are voting in Nigeria’s political elections, you are part of the reason Nigeria is what it is today. As long as you belong to a political party in this senseless system, you are part of the problem with yourself. How does this sound to your hearing: Make money in River State, send the money to Tinubu, Tinubu shares the money to Sokoto, Kaduna and the rest of the state including River State? How much of the amount River State sent to Tinubu do you think comes back to River State? Do the same math for Lagos and all the other states in the country where some economic activities are still going on. Do you think money made in Alaska would be send to Biden so Biden can send the money to Texas and other American states?

    In Nigeria today, all the monies from the regions are sent to Tinubu in Abuja. Before Tinubu, it was to Buhari, Jonathan, Obasanjo, Babangida, Shagari, Murtala and Gowon. This senseless thing started after the coups of 1966. How can you send money to one person and expect accountability? How can you send all the monies in an economy to an individual and you expect that individual to be sane? Even you, you will go crazy and surely become very corrupt!

    Make money in Rivers State, send the money to Tinubu in Abuja. Tinubu shares the money to Sokot, Kaduna, Imo and the remaining states in Nigeria. How much of the amount comes back to Rivers State? Does that even make any sense to you if you have some brain cells to think? But that is what you vote for every 4 years? You are the problem with yourself!

    Nigerian Politicians are corrupt. They are documented criminals.

    Some may argue that if Nigerian politicians are not corrupt, the unitary system would work. But that is the exact illusion that is created by the system and the (s)elections that come with it. That is what the criminal politicians what you to believe. That is why more than 3 generations of Nigerians have wasted away. That belief and hope in the system is the reason why this generation would die in extreme penury and poverty.

    Globally, politicians are corrupt to varying degrees. But Nigerian politicians are documented criminals. Some were criminals before they entered government houses, others became criminals after emerging in government houses. There is no way a sane person will not become insane after emerging in Nigerian politics. It’s designed for you to steal or loot.

    To be clear, the list of criminal-politicians living openly in Nigeria after looting in politics is endless. There is no justice under a unitary system of government and one of the reasons is the concentration of power in one person, at the center. Buhari, Jonathan, Obasanjo, Babangida, name them. All the former and serving governors. All the ministers, past and present. Everyone in Emilokan Jaguda government. They are all thieves. Nigeria is running a useless system of government supervised by thieves and you are crying that thing are expensive. You are not ready to save yourselves and your children.

    Nigeria is a consumption-based economy

    One of the consequences of sharing monies to different states in Nigeria was that several states became unproductive. Before the useless unitary system was introduced to Nigeria, all the different regions were very productive. Agriculture and industrialization were in full speed. The regions competed with one another. Their respective economies were vibrant, and the common currency was very strong. Infrastructures were built and maintained. Everything made in Nigeria and by Nigerians were of the highest standard. Our health care and schools attracted people from all over the world. That was the golden period of the regional system of government in Nigeria.

    Fast forward post unitary system of government. In 2024, some states in Nigeria do not produce a pin or a broom. The politicians cross their legs, sit their asses at the government houses and wait for federal allocations that have been mopped up from a few productive states. When the money gets to them, they steal most of it, at the state and local government levels. The same at the ministries; ministers loot monies and they get away with their loots. There are almost no consequences for being a criminal politician in Nigeria.

    Even in some states where minerals are mined, a few criminals in the states have cornered all the mineral resources with the help of unregistered foreign companies/persons. So, it would appear that the money shared to the states are looted by politicians. Then the income from the mineral resources that are supposed to be used for the state end up in the pockets of the same politicians and a few of their friends. These are the people you see buying houses and land for trillions of naira all over the country and abroad. Several politicians starting from the presidency down to the local government level just dip their hands into the country’s account and take money to buy houses in UK, Dubai and America.  Then you are there crying that things are expensive, you are not serious yet. Our freedom will never come on a platter of gold.  

    A rotten head

    What people are facing in Nigeria today are not only due to the pressure of global crises. Internationally, we are all feeling the impacts of a global economy meltdown. Interests on our mortgages are up in the sky, depression is high and homelessness (even in the absence of war) is noticeable.  But what makes Nigeria unique is that the head is super rotten. The head is represented by politics and policies. It is represented by law and order. By accountability and patriotism. But they are all decayed!

    It does not matter who is elected or selected as Nigeria’s president. You can be Atikufied or Obidiots or Agbadoists, it does not matter. Where did Anambra money go when Obi was governor? What did Atiku do with all he stole for years 1999 – 2007 as VP? The unitary system of government does not give accounts. It loots and assist to loot because that was the purpose of the system. In recent years, a man called Buhari, a classical dullard and a man of low mentality was pushed down the throats of Nigerians as president. In private conversation, we know that no one of us will employ Buhari as a gatekeeper or servant. He was that incompetent and incoherent. But some cabals made him a president. Unforgivable. Today, a certain Tinubu whose identity cannot be verified is leading. Everything about Tinubu is unclear. What is clear is that he, like Obi and Atiku, is one of the criminal politicians in Nigeria. But he is president.

    The heads in Nigeria have always been rotten. The implication is that the rottenness spreads into the entire network and systems in Nigeria. There is nothing in Nigeria today that does not smell. That is the most viable explanation to how some people with no known source of extra income, can survive on USD 20 a month. Even a bag of rice approached USD 70 but we move, abi? Nigerians say they hustle to make ends meet. You don’t want to know what hustle means to some people. Let’s leave it there. Try to get something that is your right in Nigeria, like a passport. Try to open a bank account. Try to park your car in a public place in Lagos Island. Everything is hard and frustrating. We rip one another. The head is bad, rotten and smelly. You can feel it in everything in Nigeria.

    Where do we go from here?

    In some articles in the past, I have written very provocatively. I still do, sometimes. In one controversial article published in the Nigerian Village Square, I asked if we should lease Nigeria to the former colonial masters, to see if they can turn things around in 10 years. On more than one occasion, I wrote articles titled: No rage, no change. They are here on my blog. Today, I cannot stand by and allow a rogue called a colonial master to rule my life; that article on leasing Nigeria was borne out of frustration in the days of ignorance. Still the idea was to provoke to positive actions. More than a decade later, Nigeria is down the hole.

    But I stand by “No rage, No change”. Sometimes, we say revolution. Sadly, Nigeria does not need a revolution that change people or replace people in a unitary system. Nigeria needs a revolution that would reshape the geographical space very dramatically. If Nigeria continue to exist in its modus operandi, I cannot see the light. Even the tunnel does not exist. As long as a unitary system of government remains, Nigeria and Nigerians are hopeless. 10 years from now, some will debate this provocation!

    The big question is: what can you give to make your geographical space a better place for your children? If my generation or the one after ends thinking we can save Nigeria, then we would end up chasing shadows. Our lives may add no real values to humanity. Our parents died believing in a certain imaginary one Nigeria. See where it left us.

    Our concern should be on our common heritage, our common culture, our common values, our common language. We must return to where the bubble bursts in 1966. Everybody need to know where we were before the 2 useless 1966 coups in order to understand what we are up against. It would not come easy because the politicians, the elites and the rogue colonial masters are also ready to keep Nigeria as a giant slave camp. But with a massive population of over 60 million representing, the Yoruba for example must be able to govern their Western Region where Agriculture was king. Nobody was eager to leave Yoruba Western Region for a low standard London or Paris, at that time. My mother stayed back in Abeokuta of the 1950s. She told me the story. What a glorious choice she made. In 2002, I could not make the same decision as my mother when the call came. What applied to a 1960 glorious Western Yoruba Land applied also to the other regions at that time. It is the regions that we must take back in order to pursue own peace, happiness and economic prosperity.

    One of the greatest fallacies and chant of slaveries in Nigeria today is “We will take Nigeria back”. From who? Was Nigeria ever made for you? What is Nigeria? We have lived our lives on false identity. Sadly, we will die this way, with the identity that our ancestors did not bequeath to us. But we can save our children and the unborn generations by giving them their rightful identities. You can never claim back what was never yours. Nigeria was created as a slave camp. What belongs to you is Western Region-Yoruba, Eastern Region-Igbo (Biafra), Northern Region-Arewa, Middle-Belt and the South-South (The Delta). In this new age, perhaps more regions should emerge. Why not? Some of the most prosperous countries in the world do not even have a million inhabitants.

    Finally, there will be no quick fix to all the problems that have accumulated in Nigeria since the erroneous coups of 1966 and the prevalence of mad, corrupt people in government houses since 1966 to date. If we correct the most fundamental error today (that is operating at the regional levels), our children and children’s children would have something to smile about in the next 20, 30, 40 or 50 years and forever.

    We have to stop crying or lamenting on the social media and in real life. We need to stop praying from Maiduguri to Jerusalem and Mecca. Let us stop wasting time. Stop sharing nonsense. Share the history and stories that will change for our lives for better, forever. Spread the news that awaken our critical thinking. Let us disagree to agree that we need a proper plan for the rest of our lives.  Our progress starts the day we start building our respective nations again. Everything starts on the day of our real freedom from a slave camp called Nigeria.

    aderounmu@gmail.com

    Sweden’s Failure At Transportation

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    Sweden’s Failure At Transportation

    By Adeola Aderounmu

    Sweden is always trying to save the rest of the world from all unpleasant situations.  There are so many adventures that Sweden have undertaken since time immemorial. I remember a damaged pipeline off the American coast or where was again, Gulf of Mexico? Sweden was the country that succeeded in stopping the leakage and ending a potential environmental disaster.   

    Sweden is everywhere. She goes to Africa doing all kinds of missions. She invades the Middle East and scoop souls to save or revive. Sweden builds abroad, with very fine architectures. She exports music, Spotify, Abba, Aviciii (RIP) and so many good things of life. No doubt she brings home the rewards of plundering.

    But if you live in Stockholm especially along what we call the surface train lines (pendeltåget), Sweden would have at some point made your life hell on earth. There is a dilemma on this surface train line that I have witnessed for almost 2 decades. If a problem can persist for that long, and of there is no solution in sight, the most appropriate explanation is corruption. There must be some form of massive corruption that has made it impossible for Sweden and Stockholm to end “a simple” problem she would have solved if the problem was in another country.

    In the winter every year and sometimes with temperatures as low as minus 21, the Stockholm surface train could suddenly be out of service throwing many passengers into confusion.  The pain is indescribable. The frustration, the anxiety and the uncertainties that occur every winter in Stockholm with respect to the failed surface train schedules should be studied. It may be a life shortener.

    Let us be clear about a great nation that Sweden is. She has the longest underground tunnel network in the world. It has been described as the longest work of art made by man. That is very commendable. The fact is the network continues to grow because more interconnections have been proposed and some are near completions. The underground blue line has been extended and will reach a new length in the nearest future. The problems with the Swedish underground trains are not severe. They are no unusual and do not take time to clear.

    It is even slightly mysterious that the underground network (that is under the earth) works better and more effective the surface network that is over the earth. Could it be that more focus is placed on something that is under the earth than something that is above it? Are they trying to tell us that the surface train is more exposed to drastic changes in weather? You must wonder why Sweden can take care of the underground train network better than the surface train network.

    Nevertheless, with all the knowledge, experience and technical abilities in Sweden, the surface train network remains a disturbing shame to the country. This winter 2023 December, a lot of train travel times have been cancelled. Some trains have run on shorter wagons. There have been complains about the maintenance of the tracks. That really is shocking: that the tracks are not well maintained. What is serious accidents occur? The blaming game would start. Who does not know that prevention is better than cure?

    The consequences of these annual anomalies may in fact constitute serious aspects of mental health imbalance for affected people. We must see beyond the frustrations on their faces. Failed train networks do more than causing lateness to work. People also often get late to getting their wards from schools. They miss other friends and family engagements or activities. What about the financial or economic loss to the county? Individuals lose time and money. The country loses time and money. When shorter wagons run, the crowd at the stations build up. In this cold weather, that is a means to increase the spread of communicable diseases.  A substantial part of the residents fear for terror attacks too. The crowd that builds up when trains stop working or are delayed are potential spots for attacks.

    My suggestion to the Swedish Transport Corporation (Stockholm Local Traffic) is that they need to sit down and look at themselves in the faces and in the mirror. They need to get this system working by taking a holistic approach to problem solving in this sector. 

    The tracks must be fixed and maintained as scheduled. Ten years over the schedule time is a clear indication of being irresponsible and taking our lives for granted. There will be winter every year. So why is every winter characterized by the same problems with the trains? I do not think there are newer problems with the trains than they were 10 years ago. Winter will come, there will be snow, it will be cold. Is there anything that the Stockholm Local Traffic does not know about winter? Winter should no longer be an excuse for poor train services. This is Sweden!

    What is this thing about shortage of employees? Take measures to make the job of a train driver attractive and get more people employed. There are so many unemployed people in Stockholm, so we should not be having shortage of employees at all. No, we should not.

    There is the story of failure of signal. I don’t think anybody knows what that means. It has become an acronym for “out of service” if you ask me. Can you please explain “signal fel” to us so we can proffer a solution?

    The bottom line is that the Stockholm Local traffic lacks pre-emptiveness and the corporation is behaving like it is doing us a favour. We are paying for this extremely poor delivery of services which is why I maintain that the underlying cause of these problems is massive corruption within the Stockholm Local Traffic.

    The corruption must be addressed in order to improve services. In my end of the train line, we have a 30-minute interval to deal with. If a train is cancelled, that is minimum of one hour waiting time. The interval must be improved going forward.

    I understand that politics too have a role to play in all these poor service deliveries. Talk to the concerned politicians about your needs and bring the citizens on your side to improve train services. Stop further increase in the prices of train tickets because the quality of service delivery have declined in the last 2 decades.

    Don’t forget: update your tracks to prevent accidents or derailing.

    One can be proud of Sweden in many ways, but in the Stockholm transport system, shame is what I feel. Fear is what I breathe when expecting visitors and never knowing if they will arrive or travel back in peace.

    Sweden is everywhere. But I don’t see Sweden in the Stockholm Local Traffic.

    aderounmu@gmail.com

    8 Days, 6 Deaths

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    By Adeola Aderounmu

    I am on the bus going to work.

    What I am hearing on the bus now is the 6th person shot to death in Sweden in the last 8 days, that is from 7th of September to 15th of September.

    6 persons shot dead in one week.

    Where is Sweden going with all these criminals on the rampage?

    How did so many criminals get to establish themselves so comfortably and successfully in Sweden?

    The kid that died last night was not even 18 years yet. Many teenagers are wasting away in Sweden.

    How did we get here, Sweden?

    Rune Westlund (1921 – 2021). I Knew A Good Man.

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    By Adeola Aderounmu

    There are not so many people in the world today or even in old times who would open their doors for others to come in. It is not a matter of whether one is a stranger or not. Opening of doors to others is not even a family matter. People have locked out friends and strangers alike. For various reasons, people close their doors and lives to family members. People are strange. We are strange.

    So, when a person willfully opens his/her door to help you accomplished a task or reach your goals, it is not just a matter of flesh and blood, it is the best of humanity. It is a feeling that you cannot describe or quantify. It is something that should boost the quality of your thoughts and move them in a positive direction, permanently.

    Rune was a man with a good heart and a clear conscience. He was a symbol of harmony and dedication

    Breaking a chain of kindness can bring non-visible pains as well as emotional distress to those who really have flesh, bones and hearts. Breaking the chains of paying (good deeds) forward can bring unhappiness or a feeling of unfulfillment. You break the chain already when you lack appreciation. You break it when you close your door and heart to others even when you could have sustained it or pay it forward. Indeed, humans are plagued with insecurities and broken chains of goodwill. We are!

    I am not qualified to write the tributes of a man who lived for almost 100 years. I can only pay my respect. Rune Westlund was a man who opened his doors and life to as many as he could possibly do. He would have been 100 years old today (12 December). Rune was born in Stockholm in 1921. He left us, peacefully, on 26 April 2021 after a brief illness. His burial took place at Kanalkrykan in Sandviken, a place where he spent his working life and nurtured his family. A few people are worth celebrating, even in death. Rune stood out amongst them. I am paying him this respect as a way of celebrating his life and all the indelible marks he left behind.

    I knew Rune for about 17 years. His kindness and thoughtfulness ensured that he became one of those who impacted my life. It added to the list of the people who previously influenced my choices in life: my parents, my teachers, and a few good people. Rune was the great-grandfather of my 2 wonderful daughters. He was the same to a handful others. If you are looking for exemplary, selfless life, he lived one. He was an accomplished man who left us a year after Smith & Tell sang that 2020 was the Year Of The Young.  Even 2021 turned out to be another year of the young.

    Almost invariably, we always feel sad when our loved ones leave us even if they had grown very old. But sometimes we ought to focus on the quality of their lives too and the impact they made to humanity. In addition, we ought to reflect on the roles we played when they were with us. How much time did we spend with them and how well did we influence the things that were within our capabilities to do? A lot of people would find genuine or residual happiness if they focused on the outstanding quality of lives that their loved ones experienced and the positive values they added to humanity.

    Rune was a man with a good heart and a clear conscience. Until his last days, his mind was alert and his memories never depreciated in worth. I will not tell you how, but he was ingenious. Okay, I’ll tell you: he kept the ones he loved close to his heart. Rune was never out of words to describe things and events. There was almost nothing he forgot. Throughout life and in all seasons, he trained his mind to remember the things that matter. He never forgot the birthdays of any member of the family.

    He knew the dates when all his grandchildren and great-grand children were born. He read newspapers and followed current affairs. He could discuss politics at top level, and he never shied away from our discussions on sports. The value or worth of our memories can never depreciate if the people we love are always in our hearts and if we apply our heart to good deeds. We often neglect the need to overcome our shortcomings to find fulfilment and happiness. There are, of course, consequences for life’s choices.

    Rune was a symbol of harmony and dedication. He was contented and happy. He was always calm and jovial. Faced by the inevitable, the end of all mortals, he never lost it. For a man who lost his wife Anita to cancer in 2008, he carried on gracefully and kept fond memories of her. In their lifetime, Rune and Anita were also parents to some other people they never met in real life. Regularly, they sent monies that ensured that some children in faraway places on earth had food on their tables and got educated. As if that was not sufficient, they opened their doors to receive and welcome immigrants in Gävle/Sandviken area of Sweden. In their home, immigrants learned a new language, they learned to cook and bake. They found a dependable base to seek happiness and hope for the future.

    Rune was aptly described by his children as a man with great generosity, empathy, and strong integrity. He had a great sense of humor and presence. When the sun went through the windows and shone on his casket, it was an affirmation that he was a good man who deserved to rest in glory. Rune is survived by children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

    I knew a good man. His name was Rune Westlund. He’s resting, in peace.

    Pojken Med De Gyllene Öronen

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    Mina barndomsminnen skulle vara ofullständiga utan min mammas vånda när hon satt och såg mitt spädbarnshuvud dekoreras med två ofullständiga öron. När jag ser tillbaka är jag så tacksam för allt bemödande min mamma la ner på att rengöra mina öron.

     

    POJKEN MED DE GYLLENE ÖRONEN

    Adeola_4years_old

    av Adeola Aderounmu

    Året var 1986 då jag fjorton år gammal tog bussen till Lagos Allmänna sjukhus för att genomgå en öronoperation. Det var menat att bli slutet på en rad tidigare besök på sjukhuset. När jag föddes var mina öron inte färdigväxta. Defekterna var uppenbara eftersom mina hörselgångar ofta var fyllda med en gulaktig vätska.

    Mina barndomsminnen skulle vara ofullständiga utan min mammas vånda när hon satt och såg mitt spädbarnshuvud dekoreras med två ofullständiga öron.

    Jag minns min barndoms dagar i grundskolan. Jag hade alltid en laddning med bomullsvadd hemma som jag ibland tog med till skolan. Jag lärde mig snart att vira bomullsvadden runt ett kvastskaft och stack in vadd i örat till både höger och vänster. Vid flera tillfällen tog bomullsvadden slut, så vad gjorde jag? Jag använde locket på min BIC penna istället. Detta lock blev min närmsta följeslagare i flera år. Hade jag inget annat på mig så hade jag locket till en blå, svart eller röd BIC penna som jag stack in i mina öron och grävde ut tonvis med vätska.

    När jag senare i livet hittade bomullstopps använde jag dem istället. De hade de ett värde av guld för mig.

    När jag ser tillbaka är jag så tacksam för allt bemödande min mamma la ner på att rengöra mina öron. Jag minns att hon varnade mig för skarpa föremål. Men ibland såg hon bara på mig med medlidande, för i mitt fall var det som att leva tillsammans med någon med ett missbruk. När begäret att stoppa något i mina öron dök upp fanns det inget i hela världen du kunde göra för att hindra mig.

    Jag är också tacksam att mitt problem inte klassificerades som ett handikapp, eftersom i det avseendet kunde Nigeria ha förstört mig totalt. Jag hade tur att inte kategoriseras som någon i behov av specialundervisning på grund av mina hörselproblem.

    Innan operationsdagen 1986 lärde jag mig att vakna klockan 05.00, ta bussen från vårt hem i Festac Town och resa till Allmänna sjukhuset beläget i Ikeja.  Vi, jag och min mamma, hoppade vanligtvis av Lagos gula buss vid hållplatsen med namn PWD och vandrade sedan utmed en bro hela vägen till sjukhuset.

    Det var en obekväm resa. Den var inte heller helt säker eftersom det oftast var få personer på vägen där vi gick vid bron mot sjukhuset. Enligt min bedömning var hela resan ungefär fyra mil lång, kanske till och med fem. Det kunde ta oss en och en halv timme med minst två eller tre byten av olika bussförbindelser.

    På operationsdagen lät min mamma mig göra resan på egen hand. Hon skulle anlända lite senare. Jag minns inte anledningen till det beslutet men antar att är du mamma till sex barn lär du dig snabbt att göra dem självständiga vid en lämplig ålder. Jag skulle kunna föreställa mig att jag vann min självständighet när läkarna väl bestämde att korrigera mina öron med en operation. När jag kom fram till sjukhuset mötte jag sjuksköterskorna och gjorde den nödvändiga registreringen. Sedan väntade jag. Och jag väntade, väntade och väntade.

    Efter att jag blev tveksam till den ovanligt långa väntetiden frågade jag sköterskorna när det var min tur att bli omhändertagen? Svaret jag fick då kom som en chock jag aldrig kommer glömma. Det här sjukhuset hade jag besökt åtskilliga gånger tillsammans med min mamma, jag var en återkommande patient. Till exempel en gång när ett litet fiskben fastnade i min hals under en utsökt måltid och min mamma tog mig till öron-näs-hals på Allmänna sjukhuset i Ikeja, kände jag redan till den avdelningen lika väl som min egen handflata.

    Så därför när sköterskorna, denna ödesdigra dag, svarade mig att de inte kunde hitta min journal med dokumentationen som fastställt min operation trodde jag det var ett enkelt misstag av felplacering. Jag antog att de skulle hitta den och att mina öron sedan skulle opereras.

    När min mamma anlände blev hon mycket upprörd. Hon gav mig en tillrättavisande örfil för att uttrycka sin ilska. Jag kan inte minnas någon annan dag, varken innan eller efter denna ödesdigra dag, då min mamma slagit mig. Hon gjorde aldrig det. Därför blev jag nu mycket förvirrad. Det var ju sköterskorna som inte kunde hitta min journal. Vem borde då bli slagen?

    När jag tänker tillbaka på hela det scenariot, kan jag bara gissa mig till olika skäl att min journal försvann. Ett är att sköterskorna förmodligen blev chockade att en pojke dök upp själv inför sin operation. Var fanns min mamma som skulle betala dricks så att journalen inte försvann denna viktiga dag? Eller, sett ur ett annat perspektiv, räknade personalen med att min familj skulle ha kontaktat dem i förhand med förskottsbetalning innan operationsdagen? Hur väl förstod mina föräldrar att sådana här möjligheter måste säkerställas genom att hålla koll på sjuksköterskor och doktorer för att undvika besvikelser?

    Varför försvann min journal på operationsdagen? Ett tredje skäl kan vara att läkarna inte var kapabla att utföra denna operation och därför drog sig ur?  Det sista påståendet är rätt osannolikt eftersom mina minnen porträtteras en rad kompetenta, professionella läkare och undersökt mina trumhinnor, öroninfektioner och hals med instrument och redskap på öppenvårdsmottagningen.

    Så, varför kom inte läkarna ihåg min bokning? En operation borde ju inte vara så lätt att glömma? Varför kom inte läkarna till väntrummet för att leta efter mig? Sa sjuksköterskan att jag inte dykt upp? Vad var det egentligen som gick fel?

    Min mamma smällde till mig eftersom att hon fann mig sitta lugn och samlad, trots det troliga scenariot att missa ett tillfälle att korrigera mina defekta öron som man bara får en gång i livet. Hon visste säkert med en gång att chansen inte skulle komma igen. Många saker måste farit genom hennes huvud när hon kom för att höra de dåliga nyheterna gällande mina öron. Den enklaste vägen för att ge utlopp för sin frustration var slaget jag fick. Hon trodde troligen att jag bara kom dit och satte mig ner utan någon ansträngning. Men vad kan en fjortonåring göra när de äldre sköterskorna kastat eller gömt hans medicinska journal?

    Jag kan inte minnas att jag någonsin var arg på min mamma. Hon var min gudinna. Hon var kvinnan som lärde mig nästan allt – att läsa, att skriva och sedan att laga mat. Min mamma lärde mig vara ödmjuk och uthållig trots de svårigheter och motgångar man möter i livet.

    Så vi åkte hem. Det blev ingen operation år 1986. Jag fortsatte att sticka in allt i mina öron för att få ut vätskor och för att skrapa öronen när de kliade. Vid något tillfälle använde jag pinnar och kvastar för att skrapa ut smuts som fastnat på mina trumhinnor. Jag var expert på mina öron. Som öronläkare skulle jag varit den bästa i hela världen. Jag minns en dag när jag pillade i mitt öra med ett skaft och någon plötsligt sprang in i mig. Det började blöda från mitt öra och jag fick därmed en ny möjlighet att sticka in fler föremål för att få ut blodet. Mitt missbruk var hopplöst.

    Jag har levt i Sverige sedan 2002 med ett fortsatt lidande av återkommande öroninfektioner på grund av mina trumhinnors sårbarhet. En dag när jag besökte läkaren rekommenderade han en operation. Mina öron hade testats under en period och resultaten var förkrossande. Jag har fått anstränga mig nästan hela livet för att kunna höra vad människor säger. Resultaten jag såg visade tröskeln för normal hörsel jämfört med min. Jag har varit döv!

    Så år 2007, tjugoett år efter att sjuksköterskorna på Allmänna sjukhuset i Ikeja sabbade min då planerade operation, fick jag äntligen min öronoperation i Sverige. I ena örat var hörseln redan borta vid det laget! Efter operationen blev det örat det bättre av de två. Vilket betyder att i det bättre örat innan jag opererades saknades redan hörseln. Öronen var helt enkelt döva till olika grader. Operationen utfördes på Danderyds sjukhus i Sverige.

    Till ålderdomens höst, som snabbt närmar sig, kan jag ana vad mina största utmaningar kommer bli. Jag har en dålig höft efter att ha spelat fotboll i tonåren and kommer definitivt inte kunna gå ordentligt. Jag får använda hjälp. Jag kommer också vara nästan döv på bägge öronen. Hörapparater finns att erhålla men om de är lämpliga för just min dövhet blir intressant att upptäcka.

    Jag bestämde mig för att skriva detaljerat om min hörselskada eftersom det avslöjar mycket om Nigerias folkhälsoproblem. Jag vet inte hur mitt sjukdomsfall behandlades som litet barn. Kunde jag opererats redan som bebis och därmed botats för resten av livet? Det är troligt. Men med tiden blev jag medveten om, att trots tillgången till ett bra hälso- och sjukvårdssystem i Nigeria fram till 1980-talet, fanns luckor i systemet som gjorde det svårt att korrigera min hörselskada. Den delen var olycklig.

    En operation blev bortslarvad. En vän sa till mig att min död på läkarbordet var uppskjuten! Men jag litade på sjukvårdssystemet i Nigeria 1986 även om sjuksköterskorna var illasinnade. Jag skyller den sabbade operationen på dem, jag tycker inte de var genuina och det är ledsamt att minnas nu.

    Så hur är det nuvarande läget gällande hälso- och sjukvård i Nigeria? Med ett ord, katastrof! Nigerianska politiker och beslutsfattare måste tänka på medborgarna och arbeta hårt för att säkerställa att sjukvårdssystemet förbättras och anpassas till efterfrågan från den omfattande lant- och tätortsbefolkningen. Den vanliga medborgaren måste ges förmånen att kunna ha råd med ett sjukvårdssystem där livet prioriteras.

    Som tonåring riskerade jag mitt liv och reste flera mil. Sedan gick jag längs vägarna till läkarna i Lagos i Nigeria. Jag är mannen med de gyllene öronen.

    Om en nigeriansk politiker, vilket inkluderar presidenten, önskar resa utomlands för medicinska skäl bör de hindras från att göra det. I ett land med mer än 170 miljoner människor borde politiker som inte kan leverera avskedas. De förtjänar till och med min mammas tillrättavisande örfil.

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    From the original text, The Boy With The Golden Ears by Adeola Aderounmu, 2016.

    Translated to Swedish language by Louise Holmberg, Stockholm, 2018.