LETTER FROM THE SON OF MAN by ‘Lakunle Jaiyesimi

Dear Hannibal,

To say I am quite perturbed by your aloofness in the years gone by is an understatement. So much has happened in that spate of time such that, without hearing from you, I have had to make do with what I am fed by the gagged press and pages that are desperate to break even or maintain their status of leadership in mainstream media. Whichever came in handy, the move away from investigative journalism throws up news that fall below the standard that edifies the audience. As a result, going beyond the “turmoil pervading the world in recent times” as you pointed out in your last letter, the blend of truths and untruths have done more to complicate the acquisition of knowledge from modern media and schools. Continue reading

I’m in a mess. ASUU is on strike. Again. For the umpteenth time, that is


“I find that the great thing in this

world is not so much where we

stand as in what direction we are

moving: To reach the port of

heaven, we must sail sometimes

with the wind and sometimes

against it – but we must sail, and

not drift, nor lie at the anchor.” –

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

(29 August 1809 – 8 October 1894)

The name, Musa Parad Isiaka, is that of a fictional character that I intend to be the protagonist in a novel. I’d been nursing the idea of this novel for some time now. For lack of ideas at the moment however, I have elected to gloss over a short period in the life of one Nigerian academic, who goes by the same name. Hence, whatever narrative you read below differs greatly from that of my novel protagonist, at least in their conception.

This period, I innocently wish (like a child is wont to) would ultimately become somehow inculcated into the novel, as events that constitute a major telling bulk of the novel. And when it does, it may just come up as a dream that can’t either harm or make (I’m not here referring to a prophetic dream, mind you). I plead, no one should spank me for all I’ve said and will say, especially for having a “head full of cobwebs”, like my mentor would say, if you know what he means.

If you must know, my usual reaction every time he said it was to gently rub Continue reading