Njoku SaintJerry A.
For each copy of this book sold 2% goes to the Saint Awards Educational Project for the African Child
AK-47 in a Wild Why World
is a collection of thoughtful provocative essays, short stories and poetry that take on the political and socio-economic problems of modern Africa and plain Idiot’s guide solution on how to salvage the deteriorating economies and lost pride of the African continent and its people.
The book done in plain, sometimes blunt language, addresses issues of social neglect, religious and political abuse, cultural and economic mistakes and failures, and common human depravities such as greed, ignorance and hypocrisy. For these ills, the author offers what he called 'an Idiot's guide' strategies of positive solutions based on purpose and action.
The author argues about an unknown fear trapped in the heart of every black African who struggles with the reality of a life wasted under economic hardship he calls "nothing less than a fear of hell", a hell of poverty and misery created by ignorance, greed and a crass illiteracy of ideas. To run away from this fear is to invite chaos that might spiral the continent into further darkness. Only by frankly assessing the problems and embracing realistic solutions such as education can there be any hope of initiating social and economic change.
Njoku SaintJerry A. born in Ohafia is an Alumnus of University of Nigeria Nsukka where he studied Graphic Design/Arts Education. A Multi-talented person with divers professional skills and a full-time Graphic Artist and Web Designer also an Illustrator & a Self-Styled Abstract Colorist.
Aside other experiences he had once worked as a Cartoon Editor for couple of media firms, a Language Teacher with years of International classroom experience in Asia and has not put aside his pen from journalism. According to the author, The plight of Africans in Asia alone had flared this writing skills, where this idea of revolutionary journalism has been developed, in his own word, Change will come only when we choose to break away from this collective idiotic mindset of doing things void of creativity for only in so doing could we become positive and change the course of things that have not been favourable to Africans both continental and Africans in the Diaspora.
Njoku J.A. is the coordinator of the Saints Awards Project, an NGO focus on Useful Educational Support, Skill acquisitions and training of young indigent Africans at various professional levels. Giving financial and moral support to indigent people of the community to get a better education through basic scholarship support scheme and training that covers all spheres of education using art as a medium.
“I haven't noticed much difference between one people and the other except some enjoy privileges others don't enjoy and they consider themselves better off, that I consider absurd and childishness.”
Section One:
...the death and birth of a new Africa for Africans
'The black race seems to be on its last legs, on its way to extinction. Unless they summon the will and intelligence and energy to achieve in the next fifty years what they should have organised in the last 50 years, there will be no black Africans left alive on earth by the end of this 21st century...Chinweizu'
This is bitter, this shouldn't be made public, this is so acerbic but I am going to consider it a wake up call to all black Africans all over the world to an imminent danger if we keep hiding in those caves of comfort of self delusion and deception.
Generation comes, generation goes, what man fears most will come upon him, there will be no safe heaven for those who dare run and hide and dine while their wound bleeds, the old will die and rot, their memories will be forgotten, the young will grow and the unborn will come, the unborn will suffer and plunder, the unborn will suffer with the growing Africans when they come, the unborn will plunder and there'll be a greater ruin, the end of peoples, the rot of virtues, the wreck of cultural values, the culture of peoples without a legacy, the rot of people without a guide, a father.
Once we had fathers, now we have none, once we had a home, now we have none, once we had a culture, now we have none, once we have a pride, now we have none, I see a sea of peoples flooding away, there is a great run... single mothers are rife, children without fathers, home without a father, a society, so confused and charged with vigour anoints some blind and deaf individuals to preside over state affairs, they become viciously lawless, there is a great run, Africans are running...their fathers can't see nothing, they're deaf too, their fathers are wining and dining while their wound bleeds, they globe-trot and hide while their wound rot...their present fathers.
The erstwhile fathers did bequeathed a great culture and values, hopes were high for mother Africa and there was a greater tomorrow that never comes but now...There was Jomo Kenyatta, (contd.)
2. The threat of Ignorance and Deceit;
(The Curse of the Black African)
When you lack a sense of self worth, your struggle to impress everyone and everything around you becomes obsessive. At that state of mind, there is a conflict of natural knowledge and imminent blindness to see even one's own face in a mirror. The natural gift of reasoning is threatened so much that a dream of fantasy of an ideal world of our own, made by us and controlled by us rules the humanity in us.
Our poverty, our crimes and failures all emanated from a sheer threat of ignorance to address our own myriads of teething problems, natural wisdom will teach us that a garden of flowers unattended to will be overgrown by weeds overnight, like my dear 'Mr. Don't Touch and the flashy white car' he was so conceited in his prime acquisition, silver-spooned kids and some personal comfort while his entire community lived in total darkness that the knowledge of 'human insecurity' eluded him.
First, he had built his spider-web palace without fenced walls, he was such a force not to dare in his little imagination those days, the ability to speak proper English was one added weapon, and he had always used that word 'Don't touch my car since we could neither tell what that means nor pronounce it correctly we assumed it was his own 'magic words' he got from his white teachers... Mr. Mba was so pleased, at his stupid unmatched profile.
As the day unfolds, the threat of poverty and lack was becoming so unbearable that one day..., (contd.)
Section Two: (Humour)
How does a pig eat?
These kids were staring at Uncle Bobby as he hurriedly devours a plate of rice and dodo at Mama Gee's house, feeling very uncomfortable he asked; my children why are you looking at me like that? Babingo, Mama Gee's youngest daughter quickly quipped in;
"We want so see how a pig eats"
A pig? Queried the puzzled Uncle Bobby, "but I am not a pig".
Em' em' ehen... "But my mama says you eat like a pig", chirped the little girl.
His mouth dropped; while he was yet to recover from the first shock,
Mama Gee's 3-year-old boy quipped in; "and my mama says you always come to visit when the food is ready. Is it not so"?
Section Three: (Poetry)
I love you Money
How I love you money
How I crave to own you
O' money, why the hell you can't grow Like grass in the field?
Money, why're you treating them people so bad?
Money, why're you making lot of the people go crazy?
Just for them to catch a glimpse
And feel your rottenness,
No...your freshness or was it your naturalness
Of course everybody knows it all
The taste of money
How good it scents and
How bad it reeked
When you want to feel it close
O' money, why the hell you treating them people so bad?
Last night I heard Chief Greedy FatPaunch
curse Mr. Flat Ass Porter
He slapped him red
Mr. FlatAss Porter looked down and curse his god
Money breached it all
O' money, why're you making a lot of the people go crazy....(Contd.)
2. A heaven of brutes
Last night somebody stabbed the preacher
I was watching.
All the infidels applaud him
A toast for the fool
Let your God make you rich
Only poor hungry souls cry at night
Brother Infidel had more money,
much more money and power
The church loved him
Then he gets a seat at the pulpit
He garb the robe of deaconry
Although he hate the church like shit
The church love his wicked money
This man killed six humble souls that worked for him
Locked them cor
