Samuel Oladimeji Kuye (Eric WordSmith). Theme images by kelvinjay. Powered by Blogger.











By Samuel Oladimeji Kuye (TFW)
When the mind is myopically fixed on the instant and meagre gifts, the future is traded away with pride. But who can blame the hungred for taking stones as bread or snake as fish? Poverty is not the status of the one working hard and smart, planning and acting well with time and convinced of prosperity. Such may just be in a moment of lack. But the one who has internalized poverty as a destiny and who has deleted hopes of success from his mind is the real poor one. The lifestyles of the poor, even when they pretend to be rich, are evident of their poverty-stricken mind. No matter how obvious a devil is to them they'll still open doors and invite him in to plunge them deep and dead. The princely poor always disregard consequences of choices of corruption and extortions and they'll suffer most after the comic relief of peanuts sharing.

Poor with pride
Give me a morsel
And take our seeds and lands
Plunge it and take the spoil
Use them, own them as you wish

Poor with pride
Give me a morsel
And take my legs and life
Send it to steal or kill
To destroy or to die

Poor with pride
When I see you
In robes like you're royal
And all rivers and riches you made yours
Let my cries be to you then, harmless barkings.

The rich  (and I do not mean just the millionaires and upper class) who know best to mind their business, will not have time to walk hours and sit for hours, wasting precious time in the name of campaign and gifts to be given. Actually, when there's much gain as an insider with a profitable assignment, the rich minds can be involved but such are usually in tens or hundreds. The hundreds of thousands or millions dancing and singing hyperbolic eulogies are the ones richly poor, following the masters like local dogs, forgive me. They anticipate bones to be thrown to them. And that's what they'd get -dry bones -that's what they'd fight for: Bowls of rice, two to ten tubers of yam, one to ten thousand naira and other ephemerals. My God! What a princely poor people such are. The princely poor sell their time, mind and life for the enthronement of a selfish master. How do I know selfish masters? It's simple. Anyone who will bribe me to represent me; threaten me to serve me or trouble and fight or kill to win a post of service is evidently not altruistic but egocentric and greedy. And Africa has got many of such rulers, past, present and perhaps with untouchable perpetuity.
Fraudulent acts is encouraged by acknowledgement and deifying fraudsters and thieves. For example, the growing fraudsters and ritualists known as "Yahoo guys" are not ghosts or invisible. There are people around them, hailing them, worshipping them, praising them and many sexual relief materials also flock readily around them. The coming ones can be easily lured into fraud.
That is the same in politics of self, common in Nigeria. Many people hail and praise the ones plundering them. The curses of the people won't touch those spoilers. It's trade by barter. It's investment. When candidates are expected to give some amount of money or gifts to get votes how do we expect them to not be selfish. Where is the money coming from? If it's not from a godfather then it is borrowed, perhaps at times from the candidate's savings. Who then is to blame, the godfather who must make profit from his political investment or the candidate who must in multiples realize the money spent or the princely poor electorates?

The rich minds want a rich society and favourable policies. That is why great democracies do emphasize debate. That is why manifestoes matter to great minds or great countries. But debate in Nigeria is a child's play? A candidate can choose not to partake in such. Well, if about 80 parties have candidates and all are to debat, that might take months to organize. Perhaps, there should be a legislation that Presidential candidates be limited to a number and different parties can adopt a candidate. And a legislation that such candidates must attend debates.
If we're not going to settle for less, if we're not going to shield corruption; if we are going to get good governance, stable political system of altruism, we must begin to look into socio-economic ideologies of candidates, manifestoes of candidates and history of candidates.
Why should a candidate promise good health or education or security or food or jobs or amenities? We don't need them to promise these. These are duties or responsibilities they have to sustain. We should rather ask, "what are you going to do, how will you develop our economy; how will you attack these problems; what are your policies? Not what will you give me. Government is not for individual but for a people. So, we may ask, what will you do for our society, our children and our farmers and business men and how.

The great ones will think of how to make or earn money and not how to be given money. The ones who are princely poor will endure hardship for four years, uttering harmless curses if a candidate reneges. They will wait for another four years and unfortunately, they will readily be deceived into making the same mistake of choosing peanuts over policies, over integrity.
And there are many who are knightly poor. They take sticks and bottles to torment and make troubles in the name of a candidate who must deny them in the face of the law. They also get peanuts and some might get some fame for a while. They are expendable rungs of political ladder. They never wonder where the families of their masters are. They never ask which god declares them knightly poor and expendables. Poverty is first a virus in the mind. It's a virus because once it's eaten deep into the mental system of a person it hardly dies and it gradually destroys.
If we must practice true democracy apart from the nominal and life experimental one we currently operate then we must stand against ourselves and resist the virus of poverty, princely or knightly in our systemic command. We must choose leaders for the society's sake and not for ephemeral gifts. God bless the Federal Republic of Nigeria.


Poor with pride
Give me a morsel
And take our seeds and lands
Plunge it and take the spoil
Use them, own them as you wish

Poor with pride
Give me a morsel
And take my legs and life
Send it to steal or kill
To destroy or to die

Poor with pride
When I see you
In robes like you're royal
And all rivers and riches you made yours
Let my cries be to you then, harmless barkings.
©DejiKuye TER


Happy couple
Ne'er afraid to be together alone
Ne'er tired of talking and listening
To each other
Ne'er losing touch in darkness

Hold me, I'll hold you
Touch me, I'll gladly touch you
Smile but say it freely
I belong to you and you to me.

That there's one to call my own
And a home to call our own
I can stretch my arms
Or wrap them in delights.


The life of yam begins with lush deposition of pleasure-act into the earth of a woman. The depositor has to clear the bush of doubts and thorns of hostilities or indifference to convince the soil of love and care and ecstasies of love and promising yields. Yam should not be a budding from accident but a dealing with consent. It's then, as essential, first, that earth or soil be consulted and convinced for concord and compartibility or sheer comfort and companionship, for every forced ploughing of the earth nullifies the divine shared-pleasantness of bonding and breeding between the depositor and the soil.

When the farmer is certain of earth's constancy and yielding, his intention is uncloaked. It's first selfish -satisfying his desire for feel, his greed for feeds and need for seeds. Second, it's sacrifice for the good of life and it's cycle of which the earth is richly revered. This second is just getting place in hearts of many farmers joining great and gentle ones who care that the earth must know comfortability, not a cry or crack, not a loss of nourishment or attraction. Being nonviolent or not getting angry is a shadow of gentleness. And who does not get angry? Gentlemen are the ones very kind and considerate, seeking mutual emotional, physical, systemic and spiritual good and gains in a bond. Gentleness is not in the I or ME but in WE and US.
"O earth
How's thy health
And what befits thee?
Legumes, grains, tubers or trees?
I shall tend to till and fill thee."

"O farmer,
How's thy hands and hoes
And what have thee?
Get me great fill and dress
For I delight in vegetables and others."

Such is the right route of the blessed yam -the farmer must first cultivate and upon that success plant his seeds.
The one who won't work won't own a yam. No, let him not. The hands must utilise the cutlass and hoes or what's better to make plough and make ridges or beds. Therefore, there should be upon the shoulders of nurtured farmers to follow yam maxim of getting sufficiet materials; acquiring, possibly possessing, with adequate legitimacy, an earth, and then much planning and working must be done before the yam seed is buried in the earth for it's metamorphosis.
The deposit is either for the desire for procreation or just for the pleasure. And of course all deposits cannot be buried in close range. There's going to be trouble when much seed sprout in a ridge. The gaps allow nutriments's proper alignment and growth.
Then transformative heat of the earth and protective cooperation of earth mound keeps the seed focused. Usually, in life, many seeds are planted in a space of earth and it's a race to claim just an oxygen blood-ball. The survival, first to reach and set a blockade, claims the life -blood is life. And the rest can't die; they've not even lived; they just degrade in the system and waste away, certainly. At times, two or more just head once into the life-pack and they're sealed in glory of fertilization. When the yam is degraded the survivor.
The pattern of life, pardon me, is a yamian or yamy one. No one grows like a solitary giant tree needing no support. From the earth and as it buds, support must be adequate. The yam has got to set it's tendril on a support and curling around, up ways with leaves green, it is sure to make meaning in life. The farmer must ensure a stick or any support is available as the tendril sprouts. Woe betides the one yam seeking to become big all alone. It's in fact a lie and intentional denial of humanity for a man to think or claim that he's arrived all alone. If not many, one had been a help; if not human, nature had been a help; if not nature, machines (nature-sourced by man) had been a help. Life heads forward as a tendril needing some support to reach upward.
The sun and the rain are great support too. The Sunlight and the rain are sure sources of sustenance for the plant, and of course, these are upon the bed of the earth and the watch of the farmer.
The farmer is responsible by the command of divinity, nature and humanity to care for the earth and the yam. The joy of Demeter is the grace of fertility and great harvest. If our earths suffer then our seeds suffer and life is itself threatened.
The eyes of farmer must watch. Though the yam enjoys the warmth and coolness of the earth with the influence of the sunlight or the rain the farmer must still work to weed away all encroachment and challenges. He's not worth the name farmer or father who cannot care for the earth and the yam.
The becoming of the yam is the gospel of life cycle. The birth of one is a source of joy to the good ones. At birth, each yam owes the earth a seedling as the earth mustn't be barren and life mustn't end, not before the foretold end. Yam is no mere a plant. So let's protect the yam, preserve the yam and plant the yam again. Let's clear the bush, convince the earth, work the ploughing, ridges and planting; weeding and watering, perhaps rain is delayed. All these must be done for we're all yams.

YAM is no mere yam.
Yam, hairy or smooth, coloured or white, is beautiful. No ugly yam, no horrible yam except the ones hurt with wrong processing and harvesting or ones abandoned.
Each yam has several usefulness and each will do better fulfilling one and surely some more.
We gain b following the yam maxim pattern of life. We eat yam and eat with edible oils or butter or eggs as we like it. We can roast it and enjoy it. And the peel is no waste for we get some flour from it which gives us another kind of food -Amala Dudu -highly honoured.
We make Porridge joining beans, banana or what's so good for the graceful taste
Ikokore is also gotten from a kind of yam. And there's delicious ojojo, the pudding.
But there is one, Pounded Yam, most revered and symbolic. Pounded Yam is in itself a royal food. The peeling of yam, cooking of it, and the washing of mortar and pestle, the energetic pounding of yam with the pestle in a mortal, rolling it for uniformity is notable. And the soup must be a declaration of delicacy with locust beans, crayfish, fish in kinds of making and meat of wonder animals. That's why pounded yam is the king among the food, the emperor among the morsels. And if pounded yam is king then the yam is the embodiment of royalty. And that's what each child is -a king in a calling; that's what everyone is, a king in a calling ordained in Renaissance.
We can say the New Yam Festival in some place is the full acknowledgement of the riches in farmer-earth peaceful bonding with sunlight and waters friendlies.
And as well, riches and potentials of yam itself for the good of life. Yam is a hope of sustenance and continuity, it's growth is the blessedness of life in times from now. Yam is planted, grown, used, wasted, preserved, transformed or left to just be and just die. Dying is certain, but just being to just dying is a sacrilege to the blessedness of Yam - of a child -of human. So, care is necessary is setting up for the task of Yam planting.

Elfchen 1


World's worded-wealth
Lives' experience compiled
And knowledge surely enriches

Her Gait LA Captiver

Her gait LA captiver
Her vision au loin
Beyond the seas and skies
And moi
LAmour de loin

May the god of love
Lend me some courage
To speak the words
And act the intent
Moi, I love You.


A man in love
Is like a baby.
He wants to be sure,
Of getting or owing,
Of his mother's
Whatever he wants from her.


Make yourself fit
For the keep
Get updated.

The Aged

When poverty crowned and arrayed the aged
Waning in travails to survive till they're dead
And descendants pained, grieved and cried
Twas painful but glorious exit they lied

Wish them long life
To be celebrated by their descendants
More rewarding than they did their ancestors
As blind sword and scale bearer sees flowers in times


The world is full of conflicts because it is full of humans. But conflict does not have to be crises or chaos. It is the friction of Plutonium assertive conflicts that culminates into crises, chaos and catastrophe. Every human is a collection of hidden or expressed conflicts, critical or classic. What makes games interesting are the challenges they pose. what makes movies, Wrestling, Football, Basketball, Boxing very capturing is the conflict they present with the need to win. Life, therefore, is worth living as long as there is an object to desire, a course to take and a hope to win. When nothing makes meaning anymore then life is done and gone.

Will humans ever be one again? Only when there were one, a man, and one, a woman was complete oneness known on earth, in good and erring, in innocence and falling. I do not think I believe it but if there was a Lilith then the coming of a third, our Eve, is the cutting of the cord. And Lilith is to blame, God is never to blame. Here, I digress to submit that the ever best form of union is between two -a man and a woman -that is wholeness. And I do not mean that wholeness is without challenges. Only the blown-away cremated dead ones face and feel no earthly challenges. There are, over dead bodies, challenges of swelling, stinking, embalming, shrinking, burying and decaying. The worms make the grave busy a good while. And necromancers can still trouble the dead, even the great Prophet Samuel lamented when summoned from paradise for king Saul.

So, we must be quick to reconcile with the fact that conflict is human and global phenomenon. Crises, chaos and catastrophe (nature or human triggered) are not contents of the Nigerian land or logo, soil or sky.
If we agree that the flag or badge of evils: corruption and terrors are not Nigerian we we will find comfort to hope, confidence to live and Courage to cater rather than complain even amidst felt or heard, visiting or abiding plagues if unpleasantness.

The problem with Nigeria, as it is with all Capital cities or palatial countries of corruption and crises is the unwillingness to dissolve the powers of a single-eye and solidify the powers of many eyes. To be single-eyed is to be monstrous, cyclopsic. It led the Hutu against the Tutsi in Rwanda. It caused the Nigerian Civil war and all civil wars. It caused all wars and terrors. A single eye can never work in a secular state of accidental conception that involved many sperm cells ruining ova into one entity -a very multi-eyed Cyclops.