Let's start the war you have just declared. I like your njakiri and
would like to help you out of your cowardice by telling the world that
I am the person you are talking about. There are only two
Igbo-speaking lecturers in the Department of English at the University
of Ibadan -- Dr Remy Oriaku and Dr Obododimma Oha. The latter wears a
rich beard; the former does not. So, you are referring to Obododimma
Oha, my warlike self.
I have no problems with what Okey Ndibe has written and have not
argued against Nigerians in the so-called "Diaspora" criticizing what
is happening at home. I have only corrected the faulty generalizations
some of them market sometimes. Okey in his piece tried to avoid this
by indicating that the situation he is writing about could be found
elsewhere, the only difference being a matter of degree. We leave that
to researchers, for it is a statement that invites a disciplined
academic investigation, not a rabid response.
You see, your offensive posture is already affecting, not just the
quality of your reasoning, but also your language. Look at one of your
sentence: "I hope the bearded Igbo Taliban of the English Department
in Ibadan, who believes that one must not speak about our University
system if you don't live in Nigeria, won't rush out for Okey's neck."
Funny. Don't you know agreement rules in English again? When you use
the indefinite pronoun "one" in a co-referential sense, you have to
complete the reference with "one," not "you." Something like: "... one
must not speak about Nigeria's university system if one does not live
in Nigeria...." Second grammatical error: The construction "our
University system" is semantically faulty and should be replaced with
a properly modified form, "Nigeria's university system." Third error:
wrong use of capital letter. You didn't have to put the "u" in
"university," a common noun used as a modifier, in capital. That is
wrong application of the notion that significant common nouns like
"Nature" need to be foregrounded through initial caps.
Given these shocking errors in your response, can one ask whether you
also purchased your own First Class honors degree from a university in
Nigeria? Surely, you are a product of the system that Nidbe has
written about. Just as I am. Perhaps you have to enrol in my
composition class and try to bribe your way to better writing.
Be well.
Obododimma Oha.
ree
On Monday, July 11, 2011, Pius Adesanmi <piusadesanmi@yahoo.com> wrote:
> Okey has given us food for thought in this fine piece. I hope the bearded Igbo Taliban of the English Department in Ibadan, who believes that one must not speak about our University system if you don't live in Nigeria, won't rush out screaming for Okey's neck!
> Piuswaiting to give him a good hiding if he rears his Taliban beard here screaming that one has no right to write these things from the Diaspora.
>
> Sexually Transmitted Degrees By Okey Ndibe
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> Posted: July 11, 2011 - 21:42
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> Okey Ndibe
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> Columnist:
> Okey Ndibe <http://saharareporters.com/columnist/okey-ndibe>
>
>
> A friend of mine, a writer based in Abuja, surprised me recently when
> he asked if I knew what the acronym STD stood for. To underscore how
> ludicrous I found his question, I quickly retorted, "Of course, sexually
> transmitted diseases." He guffawed – I should have noted a tinge of
> mischief in his tone – and then disabused me. "It stands for sexually
> transmitted degrees!"
> This writer then went ahead to explain that the term was coined by
> another friend of his to account for the fact that many (too many, in
> fact) of Nigeria's university and polytechnic students – mostly females,
> but some males as well – barter their bodies in exchange for grades. In
> effect, this inventive adaptation of a well known, frightening
> shorthand for venereal infestation seeks to sum up a disturbing social
> trend: students sleeping (or otherwise bribing) their way to a degree.
> There are, one conjectures, multitudes of Nigerian bankers,
> engineers, lawyers, accountants, physicians, mass communicators,
> economists – to name a few – who flaunt sexually transmitted degrees,
> diplomas or certificates. Or degrees that were priced and bought, not
> earned through diligent study.
> One must stress that there are many academics and students who don't –
> and won't – participate in this monumental self-debasement and
> degradation of education. Even so, there's no question that those who
> take part, as lecturers or students, in this scandalous cheapening of
> education constitute a significant percentage.
> I was always aware of the existence of rogue academics who sexually
> exploit their students, or induce them into parting with cash, for good
> grades. But I came to grasp the dimensions of the crisis when I spent
> part of the 2001-2002 academic year as a Fulbright lecturer at the
> University of Lagos.
> As I prepared to give my first class, a colleague observed that I
> seemed "excited." When I confirmed that I was, he said, in a
> discouraging tone, "But these students don't want to learn anything.
> They prefer to pay cash or offer sex for their grades."
> "Is it possible," I queried, "that some lecturers are not keen on
> teaching – and so prefer to collect cash or to bed the students?"
> "No, believe me," this lecturer insisted. "They are not interested in learning."
> Of course, the terrible transaction of buying and selling grades
> involves two parties, but the seller of grades – the lecturer – strikes
> me as having far more power than the buyer. At any rate, with all the
> determination in the world on the part of students to buy good grades,
> the sordid deal cannot be sealed unless and until a lecturer consents.
> With that in view, I told my students the first day of class that I
> had heard that some of them purchased their grades with cash or their
> bodies. Then I warned: "The only way you can do well in this class is by
> working hard. I don't accept financial or sexual gratification."
> To their credit, most of the students rose to the challenge. They
> read the texts and came to class ready to ask questions and to
> participate. Still, a few were too dyed in corrupt colors to take me at
> my word. One young woman was particularly persistent in asking me to
> change my rules. "Is it a crime to love?" she asked me over the phone.
> "Who do you love?" I asked. "You," she answered. When I told her that I
> was her teacher, married and unavailable to be loved, she was far from
> fazed. "I'm not asking you to leave your wife," she informed me. "I
> won't let you borrow me from my wife for even a minute," I said. Her
> response: "Why do you hate me so much?"When I gave exams, another student – male this time – approached me.
> After giving me the information – which he seemed to think remarkable –
> that he and I were from Anambra State, he said, "Bros, what can we do
> about this exam?" Feigning ignorance of where the conversation was
> headed, I asked, "Did you take the exam?" When he nodded yes, I added:
> "That's all I need from you. I will grade you and everybody else." "No,
> bros," he pursued, his tone more earnest. "As a bros, tell me how much I
> can give you," he implored. Enraged, I told him how ashamed I was of
> his conduct – and then waved him away.
>
>
>
>
>
> An old acquaintance – at the time a final year law student I had
> known since the mid-1980s – had observed the encounter. He approached
> and asked why I seemed so irritated. His response to my account of
> events was even more shocking. He advised me to call back the student
> and take the money he was willing to offer. "If he fails the exam, he
> can go and give the money to somebody in the records office – and they
> will change the grade. Since you're the one who suffered to teach him,
> you should be the one to enjoy the money."
> I was astonished to hear a lawyer-to-be pass off such inanity as
> logic. He was asking me to anticipate wrongdoing by another person, and
> to move fast to, a, do the wrong thing first and, b, claim the prize –
> being the one who "suffered."
> This whole business of buying and selling grades is a touchy subject.
> A few years ago, Ernest Emenyonu, one of Nigeria's most esteemed
> literary scholars, ignited a storm when he detailed how some Nigerian
> lecturers demand cash from their students as a condition for handing out
> good grades, supervising projects, or awarding degrees. Titled
> "Sorting: New Vocabulary in Nigerian Higher Institutions," his piece
> offered several examples of such unscrupulous behavior.
> Emenyonu, who had a distinguished career as a professor at the
> University of Calabar and whose current teaching address is at the
> University of Michigan (in Flint), wrote that the terminology "sorting"
> has become part of the tragic economy of trading in grades and degrees.
> According to him, sorting means, "to check out lecturers and determine
> how much a student could pay in return for a grade not worked for or
> earned through the academic process." Professor Emenyonu then revealed
> that some lecturers "bargain in tens of thousands of Naira while some
> high profile lecturers and professors quote in hundreds of thousands."
> My sadness grows each time I reread Emenyonu's essay or recall my
> personal experiences with students who wanted grades that cast them as
> excellent, but who were loath to do the requisite work. As Emenyonu
> stated, many students of tertiary institutions "are receiving no
> worthwhile education at all," their sponsors "paying for their
children
> to be duped by lecturers and if they learn anything at all, it is
> experiencing first hand how to camouflage appearance for reality."
> Emenyonu continued: "The
sharp ones among them are receiving their
> first orientation into obtaining
goods, laurels, and wealth by false
> pretences, alias, 419. However, the
most irreparable harm done by
> 'Sorting,' is that Education is being
mirrored as inconsequential in
> the development of a nation; the degrees we
award have no value and the
> years spent in institutions of higher learning
are irrelevant, and
> rigor as a crucial virtue to be acquired in the course of one's
> education is an avoidable and unnecessary self imposed
hardship."
> I had a drink in Lagos with a Nigerian entrepreneur who's in the
> middle of hiring staff for his start-up company. He told of graduates of
> accountancy who are ignorant of the most basic terms and procedures in
> the field. He noted the large pool of candidates he must interview
> before he finds somebody who appears barely qualified. "It's
> embarrassing and frustrating," he said.
> The malaise in Nigeria's education is a microcosm of a larger
> cultural crisis. By and large, the ethic of the unearned, illicitly
> acquired preferment has been enshrined in Nigeria. Too many of us aspire
> to stupendous wealth, but disdain the patience, inventive enterprise
> and focus that facilitate material success in many other societies. As
> Emenyonu pointed out, Nigeria runs the risk of arriving at a point where
> earned and honorary degrees would become indistinguishable. After all,
> the recipient of a sexually transmitted degree is unlikely to be more
> versed in her/his field than a man who just gave a big donation to some
> university in exchange for a degree.
> Much as Nigeria's educational sector mirrors the broader problems of
> the society, we can stipulate that the country can't move forward until
> it gets its educational house in order. No society has ever achieved its
> developmental goals by degrading the quality and standards of
> education.
> The condition of Nigerian education demands the declaration of a
> state of emergency. As a corollary, a special commission to save
> education ought to be established. Nothing less would do. I'd give
> Emenyonu the last word: "It is about time parents and guardians took
> more interest in what goes on at the
campuses of our tertiary
> institutions in the name of educating the young
minds. What we sow
> today in our citadels of learning, we will reap
tomorrow in the
> behavioral and mental disorientations of our children and
children's
> children!"
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> --
> You received this message because you are subscribed to the "USA-Africa Dialogue Series" moderated by Toyin Falola, University of Texas at Austin.
> For current archives, visit http://groups.google.com/group/USAAfricaDialogue
> For previous archives, visit http://www.utexas.edu/conferences/africa/ads/index.html
> To post to this group, send an email to USAAfricaDialogue@googlegroups.com
> To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to USAAfricaDialogue-
> unsubscribe@googlegroups.com
--
*Obododimma Oha*
http://udude.wordpress.com/
(*Associate Professor of Cultural Semiotics & Stylistics*)
Dept. of English
University of Ibadan
Nigeria
&
*Fellow*, Centre for Peace & Conflict Studies
University of Ibadan
Phone: +234 803 333 1330;
+234 805 350 6604;
+234 808 264 8060.
--
You received this message because you are subscribed to the "USA-Africa Dialogue Series" moderated by Toyin Falola, University of Texas at Austin.
For current archives, visit http://groups.google.com/group/USAAfricaDialogue
For previous archives, visit http://www.utexas.edu/conferences/africa/ads/index.html
To post to this group, send an email to USAAfricaDialogue@googlegroups.com
To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to USAAfricaDialogue-
unsubscribe@googlegroups.com
No comments:
Post a Comment