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I am Thank-God Eboh.A young Nigerian who believes there is honey in the land and refuses to be trampled by " NIGERIAN FACTORS ". I like to talk about knowledge, governance, business,environment, attitude and every other good ingredient that'd make a nation and the world liplicking.
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Monday, April 11, 2016
Dear President BUHARI,

It's me writing from a 'dark' Nigeria :the country you preside over. I have a suggestion to make but I hear you are now far away in China. We have nothing in our treasury but you thought it wise to use the remnants left by GEJ to trot round the world seeking for loans, even from Liberia. Good to know, but...

How do you feel when you have no money or when virtually the prizes of everything you need as a human doubles within minutes and days without the slightest hope of being slashed soonest? The prize of Sachet water, noodles, transportation, fresh peppers, tomatoes and every form of grocery; imported or not. Nigerians can't live anymore. We just can't.
How can you give hope to the People who now have liquid frustration in their teacups in the mornings, plate of gloom at lunch plus a spoonful of tears and distress and heartbreak for dinner.

You fly away in your presidential jet scooping up some governors to go with you. From whose purse? You see, this is the problem with power and free money: greed and the need for luxury creeps in unconsciously. How can you be cruising while the citizens are gnashing their teeth. This is a bad thing. Are you a bad somebody?

Papa, it took you six good months to appoint ministers and we all hoped that you would pick angels to work with you but to our surprises, you picked people who are still apprentices in their portfolio. They almost don't know their job description. It also took you eight months to unveil a budget. You have less than 36 months to CHANGE Nigeria. You either bleach the country or you put us up for adoption by the tens of countries you have visited and the tens you'd visit in the future.

I understand that people feel differently these days. When one feels Chinese, the one flies to China to abort the urge, when one feels Cameroun, the one goes to Cameroun. This is exactly what you are doing. It is not totally bad. It might be worse than bad. Maybe.

I doubt that your frequent travels will benefit Nigerians immensely. This is because the problem of Nigeria is locally brewed. The solution shouldn't come from any other place but here. You know most of my friends in the USA don't believe that we play with malaria here. How we easily recover from it surprises them. I want you to stay here with us and let's figure this thing out. The countries you are visiting have enough problems of their own and they may suggest you sell us all for a slice of bread. You might be motivated to agree with them.

Did you notice that nobody is chanting change anymore. The few optimistic Nigerians are just using the last ounce of it and will soon run out of optimism. Take a look at the queues in the petrol stations, horrible, isn't it? Imagine someone waking up around 3:00AM just to make it to the Frontline and purchase some liters of the PMS for use. This is so bad.

"I will not disappoint Nigerians" is not the goodnews that we seek. We are tired of any whispering and tellings. We want you to show us. That's all. Bring your evidence along with future plans. Please be result oriented.

I'm writing this with a bleeding heart. The NYSC servants have not been paid the stipend called  allowance. They are being owed even though they are investing one ripe year of their lives to serve our country. Is this how you pay them back?
Uncles and Aunties are being retrenched, some are resigning because companies are adjusting and cannot cope with these bushels of challenges you baptized us with. Your change policy has polluted everywhere. You have less than three years to lay some bricks. I believe in miracles but you may not work wonders with this your slow process. Take it a step at a time but please do not print posters, come 2019.

A concerned educator,
Thank-God Eboh.
Monday, May 13, 2013
To be wronged is nothing, unless you continue to remember it.”
― Confucius

What do you do to your bin when it is full? Throw the filths away, right? Ok. Many of us have our minds smell and stink worse than the dirtiest bin you have ever encountered. It’s disheartening to smell the polluted air that originates from that site. But ironically, this bins,if they could talk, would simply call some people names such as: dirty pig, restroom and/or aba dustbin. Huh! One will exclaim, but this is true of many persons we encounter everyday. They have decided to house those wastes that are meant for the vultures. Constant regurgitation on these wastes determines whether or not you will get a good morning from them or not. It so determines their day that you will invest minutes rendering apologies for crimes you never committed just to get them do a job for you.

“Not forgiving is like drinking rat poison and then waiting for the rat to die.”
― Anne Lamott

These ones we cage in the mind are having a good life out there, at least they never paid for the one bedroom flat where you housed their shadows, they never tell you thank you for that wnd nobody in the world will pay you for such devilish charity.Release yourself from the feelings that wand trade you happiness for nothing.

Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

My dear, is there any freedom than “peace of mind”? This peace is calmer than the rivers, there are no fishes to stir it ones a while. Why do you decide to carry such heavy grudges which affect your relationships and productivity? That attitude is not fair at all. It feels better never to ruminate on such trash. Life will be more fun and interesting and of course lighter if we pack those dirty stuff, burn them in incinerators or throw them into the sea where no matter how your flesh tries, it cannot retrieve them.
“Let today be the day you stop being haunted by the ghost of yesterday. Holding a grudge & harboring anger/resentment is poison to the soul. Get even with people...but not those who have hurt us, forget them, instead get even with those who have helped us.” 

― Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free
Do not be a prison guard officer who protects offensive statements and acts of neighbors’ and passersby, it is not a worthwhile employment, Be your own boss in the mind. Lock up my dear and be free.
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Last week, Manpower released their 2010 Talent Shortage Survey, a study of more than 35,000 companies in 36 countries. In all, 31 percent of employers said they were having trouble filling critical positions in their company, up one percent from last year. The ten countries hardest hit were Japan (76%), Brazil (64%), Argentina (53%), Singapore (53%), Poland (51%), Australia (45%), Hong Kong (44%), Mexico (43%), Peru (42%) and Taiwan (41%), although China was right behind that with 40%. In the U.S., 14 percent of employers reported trouble filling positions.

It is quite absurd that many employees are as lifeless as a log of wood in their place of work.I once heard a former banker with the bank of England who moved and is engaged in another money-making machine make this statement ''that's a horrible place and am glad I've left'' Why? This bank that is the dream of many who are in the accounting and banking classes. A place many teens and undergraduates day dream about.
This makes you and I to sit down on an upholstery and think. What is making the  work-for-money lifestyle so frustrating?
As for me, I think that 98% of the world population are all in a journey of acceptance.Everyone needs a place they can feel free and live out their life loudly and happily.Not a gloomy household.
What then should such victims think about while sited in their upholstery for a re-think? They should be plain to their hearts and truthfully discover what in life they would love to do if all jobs had equal prestige,salary,respect etc. Finding out your place is one discovery that sets your heart ready to fight tooth and nail gladly. You will feel at ease as long as you have found you passion.
A shiortcut which is not 100% is what do your friends,parents,peers and people affirm about you?
It could be an easy route to finding your place of joy.

 We are each gifted in a unique and important way. It is our privilege and our adventure to discover our own special light. 

- Mary Dunbar

The intuitive mind is a sacred gift and the rational mind is a faithful servant. We have created a society that honors the servant and has forgotten the gift.
- Albert Einstein  

 Use what talents you possess; The woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best.
Monday, April 22, 2013
IN America, all men are believed to be created equal and endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights. But Nigerians are brought up to believe that our society consists of higher and lesser beings. Some are born to own and enjoy, while others are born to toil and endure.
The earliest indoctrination many of us have to this mind-set happens at home. Throughout my childhood, “househelps” — usually teenagers from poor families — came to live with my family, sometimes up to three or four of them at a time. In exchange for scrubbing, laundering, cooking, baby-sitting and everything else that brawn could accomplish, either they were sent to school, or their parents were sent regular cash.
My father detested it when our househelps sang. Each time a new one arrived, my siblings and I spent the first few evenings as emissaries from the living room, where our family watched TV after dinner, to the kitchen, where the househelps washed dishes or waited to be summoned.
“My daddy said I should tell you to stop singing.”
Immediately, they would shush. Often, they forgot and started again — if not that same evening, on a subsequent one. Finally, my father would lose his imperial cool, stomp over to the kitchen and stand by the door.
“Stop singing!” he would command.
That usually settled the matter.
I honestly cannot blame my father. Although they hailed from different villages across the land, their melodies were always the same: The most lugubrious tunes in the most piercing tones, which made you think of death.
Melancholic singing was not the only trait they had in common. They all gave off a feral scent, which never failed to tell the tale each time they abandoned the wooden stools set aside for them and relaxed on our sofas while we were out. They all displayed a bottomless hunger that could never be satisfied, no matter how much you heaped on their plates or what quantity of our leftovers they cleaned out.
And they all suffered from endless tribulations, in which they always wanted to get you involved.
The roof of their family house got blown off by a rainstorm. Their mother just had her 11th baby and the doctor had seized mum and newborn, pending payment of the hospital bill. Their brother, an apprentice trader in Aba, was wrongfully accused of stealing from his boss and needed to be bailed out. A farmland tussle had left their father lying half-dead in hospital, riddled with machete wounds. Their mother’s auntie, a renowned witch, had cursed their sister so that she could no longer hear or speak. They were pregnant but the carpenter responsible was claiming he had never met them before ... Always one calamity after the other.
Househelps were widely believed to be scoundrels and carriers of disease. The first thing to do when a new one arrived was drag him off to the laboratory for blood tests, the results of which would determine whether he should be allowed into your haven. The last thing to do when one was leaving was to search him for stolen items. In one memorable incident, the help in my friend’s house, knowing that her luggage would be searched, donned all the children’s underwear she had stolen. And she nearly got away with it. But just as she stepped out the door, my friend’s mother noticed that the girl’s hips had broadened beyond what food could afflict on the human anatomy in such little time, and insisted that she raise her skirt.
Every family we knew had similar stories about their domestic staff. With time, we children learned to think of them as figures depressed by the hand of nature below the level of the human species, as if they had been created only as a useful backdrop against which we were to shine.
Not much has changed since I was a child. My friend’s daughter, who attends one of those schools where all the students are children of either well-off Nigerians or well-paid expatriates, recently captured this attitude while summarizing the plot of my novel to her mother. “Three people died,” the 11-year-old said, “but one of them was a poor man.”
It reminded me of the conversation in Mark Twain’s “Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,” when Huck tries to explain a delay in a journey:
“It warn’t the grounding — that didn’t keep us back but a little. We blowed out a cylinder-head.”
“Good gracious! anybody hurt?”
“No’m. Killed a nigger.”
“Well, it’s lucky; because sometimes people do get hurt.”
Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani is the author of the novel “I Do Not Come to You by Chance” and a fellow with the African Leadership Institute.(this article wac published on the opinion column of the newyork times on feb 10,2013)
Friday, March 15, 2013

We always hear this statement; " an eye for an eye, tooth for tooth" and we cruise around it all day without thinking about the implication. Anger that resides in the streets of our hearts will never like to lie low,it wants to fulfill its mission, it wants to maximize its full potential either by making its host throw a coca-cola bottle to the face of a friend, massacre a model-shaped wife. It could also make you tell your Boss to his/her face; "You want me to go, I will go". How will man,this precious sixth-day creation be controlled by  mere "ANGER"? What exactly do we engage in that lures it into the self-contain apartments in our hearts where it uses its only-God-knows raw materials for production.
When it jumps down from its throne, and stands at akimbo, you know no one is safe,even a passerby.But come to think of it; instead of continuing in our search for Love, we are busy sharpening our pen-knife for a revenge.
An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth will simply make us; mama,papa,uncle,distant cousins and boss to go blind and become toothless.How will our handsome and beautiful faces look like? Will you be able to greet your next door neighbor good morning?
C'mon dudes and divas,learn to let go.Forgive because that makes you feel freedom rather than revenge which keeps you hostage. RELEASE your offenders now and be free..........*progress*


 It will be startling for one to say that the world is full of angry people. "I disagree" one would quickly say.
Lets make it personal,is there not any issue you are angry about? A ride through your home,office,school,taxi,roadside paints the picture perfectly.These scenes are platforms where these angry inhabitants of the world dwell.They buy apple and cheese just as everyone would. Maybe you see a naked lunatic by the roadside counting the gravels,or you sight dad kicking mum......what? The impulse runs through your system and you whisper to your cold chest.What a world.It is definitely not wrong to be angry but then the friction comes on what angers you.Is it the thirst for revenge,positive change,murder,progress? What?
Search your heart and scoop the real reason you are angry. I bet you, if it is anger towards seeing something that humanity craves for, it may be your ministry.....pursue it and the same angry world will announce you.I DARE YOU------->