Re: The Republic Of Ruinatics II
I don’t believe that, in the last twenty-one years — ever since I received my “E Too Late” certificate from the National Youth Service Corps — any of those around me (including most especially ALL that I’ve had as family — my incredibly evil parents, and my siblings; and excluding an infinitesimally minute few, like — hopefully — Dr Olawole Olalere and Dr Jehoichim) ever wanted anything positive for my life. I would even say, “In the last twenty-one years AND MORE;” due to the “You No Need Am” advice that even led to my being in the terrible shoes I’m in today in the first instance; given by wickedly evil parents with enough foresight to see that which I would become if not for the cruel advice, and by those I once would have called childhood friends — that would try to console with companionship then the pining away that was not then (cheap consolation) accompanied by the abuse, the plunder, the insults, and the afflictions I have suffered ever since my “E Too Late” certificate was given to me.
Absolutely no one, apart from an infinitesimally minute few. To the extent where even the foolish young woman that came to Oba Akinyele Memorial High School (the ignoble school where I have consistently suffered plunder similar to that which I suffered at the University of Ibadan School of Business, the ignoble school where I have consistently suffered abuse and insults over the last fifteen years that has finally led to my dropping my resignation letter with the Oyo State Post-Primary Schools Teaching Service Commission) the silly young woman that came to the school with the refrain, “I can marry you now;” was within a few days of uttering that refrain, known to be sleeping with one of the “illiterate” enemies that scourge me daily with insults and abuse at Alegongo-Akobo.
She was a University of Ibadan undergraduate, by the way. To prove the extent to which the Frauduria you would know as Nigeria (the ignoble Republic of Ruinatics) all conspired to gang up together with the intention of destroying my life with fraud, with plunder, with insults, with abuse — and that is the least of all they do; a fact I have known even before a University of Ibadan post-graduate student said of me, four years or so ago; in a public transport bus in which were mostly illiterate Nigerians, “A ma a pa okunrin yi gan.”
We will kill this man very well.
And that it is Nigeria “and beyond” can be seen in how the speed with which the shoes of the guinea pig I’m in brought forth www.mpowerfinancing.com.
The similarity of its name to that of Frauduria’s NPower cannot be a coincidence to anyone that can think. Or to anyone that can see how it embraces the Frauduria that did not fail to instantly use its becoming privy to the means with which I would that I fund my studies and my living expenses at the University of Central Lancashire; even as it has for twenty years and more used every ounce of the nudity of mine due to which Nigerians knew themselves as “peeps,” to improve their own lives and destroy mine.
And thus, the Republic of Ruinatics keeps on using its guinea pig. To the extent where the illiterate indigenes of the Alegongo-Akobo that have been scourging and plundering me for over two decades, rose up this morning to gloat — with all the noise of public address systems — of how this very same “childhood friends” of mine, that had kept on deceiving me with the notion of “You No Need Am” (in those days when I used to walk with them) have pulled all these ignoble indigenes and their ilk into the fold of theirs that kept on drumming the words “You No Need Us” into my ears, during my days with them. Even as Wole Soyinka gave me a fake membership of his Pyrates Confraternity that has an abominably vile number know me as “faeces” today, after almost ten years of membership; whilst the illiterate indigenes of Ikadanland (and, most probably, beyond) had this said of them, after mere days of membership — membership due to the intentions of the guinea pig of theirs that they kept under the most stern of their monitoring; the intentions that they could see, with his naked applications to the Pyrates Confraternity — after mere days of their being accepted by groups like unto the Black Axe Confraternity and this same Pyrates Confraternity, they had this said of them;
“Won ti so’gbe di’gboro.”
They have turned faeces into the streets.
And I (whose noble background and upbringing the “igbe” — the faeces — have ever envied and coveted, ever right from the days of his birth as the first son of a university professor) I am the one that is now to be side-lined and relegated to the position of the “igbe” that Alegongo-Akobo rose up this morning to gloat before, over their having been accepted into the “Quarters” fold of these same childhood “friends” that have spent years drumming “You No Need Am” into my ears.
Successful companies know the importance of trade secrets. Whoever it was that thought up the evil of making the nudity of my mind a property of the public certainly knew the most effective way to destroy a man. And that my mother could open her mouth to brag of having been peeping at the nudity of my mind ever since my childhood, of being the one that had the nudity of my mind become the property of the vile public pursuing me to be everything I can be; I hate her with a most justifiable passion.
They are known as my “rends” — these so-called friends. As though they in any way rend is that which would have them accept my childhood enemies into their fold; as though rending is that which would have a girl obviously sent by the fools amongst them, sleep with one of these illiterate enemies within a few days of its being known that I indeed intended to court her.
And as for all these scavengers of Frauduria in general — of Ikadanland in particular — where I am going, or would have been; is the only objective that they have in mind. To the extent where it was my applications for Pyrate membership that had all of them immediately after throng into the streets, through membership of groups like unto the Black Axe Confraternity and the Eiye Confraternity. Whilst Wole Soyinka on his own part decided to give me a fake membership of his own group. To the extent where it was my applications for Rosicrucian membership that brought forth Nigeria’s “oclub” culture. Whilst Kenneth Idiodi on his own part could only give me a fake membership of the Rosicrucian Order, AMORC. To the extent where (be it with their utterly shameless begging, or with better, or with worse) they have gotten now these childhood “friends” of mine that I know now as Judas Iscariots to accept them into the “Quarters” fold that is where I would be, had I ever been truly accepted by any of these supposed “rends.” To the extent where my wickedly ignoble father has said often that he sought to become a professor ever since my childhood, after he saw where I would or should end up with the position he then had imposed upon me. And if only he was the only Nigerian that could say that of himself/herself today. It is only what I would or can be that they’re all interested in. To the extent where indigenes and residents of Ibadan that have never seen the four walls of absolutely any school, now are scheming over how they can be also known as writers — not only by plundering me of my own works, not only by ogling the nudity of my mind to see how I come about my own writings, but even by working supposedly honestly to build what a foolish world would then know as “talent.” Even as the father that has been using his first son’s destiny ever since that son’s childhood is known by a most foolish world as having worked honestly to become professor. Whilst Oba Akinyele Memorial High School, on their own part, had its teachers and my colleagues praying fervently after one of its daily assemblies, that I do not win the only Commonwealth Short Story Prize that I have ever been motivated enough to compete for — motivation despite a climate that is not only hateful, envious, and spiteful; but that also is insulting, abusive, and worse.
Absolutely no one but an infinitesimally minute few has ever wanted anything for me but that I should “Sit Down There!” under my ignoble father’s authority, and do nothing but “Just Praaay!” — or have them tell all The Fools and The More Runs that I’m indeed enjoying life because I masturbate even whilst they’re all ogling the nudity of my mind. Absolutely no one but an infinitesimally minute few, of whom my Creator is the only one that I can be certain of — for only His Laws cannot abide with the evil that has ruined and destroyed my life into that of a guinea pig in the hands of not only the “illiterates” that as a consequence are known now as “natives,” but also in the hands of their wealthier and more educated “compatriots;” ever since those I would have called childhood friends kept on drumming into my ears the “You No Need Am” refrain that brought about the crippled limbs with which I live today.
They’re all scheming now over how they can destroy my life even further — they all; be they family, be they so-called friends, be they colleagues at work, be they even total strangers on the streets like unto he that said unto me almost twenty years ago (after the first application with which I would I join the Pyrates Confraternity);
“Wole Soyinka gan a pa e danu.”
Even Wole Soyinka will kill you.
Thus, they scheme even further — with all intent being to destroy everything Ikoro Iyineleda. The words of mine that I place on the world wide web, they delete. The words of mine that I keep as hardcopy versions in my room, they destroy publicly with fire. Even those on my flash-drives and my laptop, they have threatened to destroy also by deleting. And if only it was only the creative works of mine that they’re all hell-bent on destroying.
During my Post-Graduate Diploma in Financial Management programme at the Obafemi Awolowo University, they sought to have my lecturers award the lowest marks possible to me. When I eventually graduated from that programme with the best grades in my class (all glory be to my Creator, and may none be to my ignoble parents) I was plundered, abused, insulted, and scourged out of my Master of Business Administration programme at the University of Ibadan School of Business — a programme that I gained admission into with the best grades in the post-graduate admissions exercise of that university. Now that I’m running an online Master of Business Adminstration programme at the University of Suffolk, all of my ignoble father and others are all striving to use every inch of the cunning of all their evil to not only stain my name at that university, but to destroy also any of the means with which I can emerge out of that programme with the best of grades. Now that I’ve been granted admission to the University of Central Lancashire (an admission that the evil Ikadanland that you would know as Ibadan sought to destroy, by sending nude pictures of yours sincerely to the authorities of that university in particular — before the admission was despite all such attempts at being subverted, eventually granted) all the evil of the town and beyond are desperately running around now to see how they can thwart a university admission that should grant me a visa to the United Kingdom.
And all the so-called “childhood friends” of mine can think of as solution is to call into their fold all my childhood enemies — all the ignoble residents and indigenes of Ikadan, and even most probably of beyond; be they illiterate or what-not! No, I don’t think I ever had anyone even then that sought anything good for my life, even in those days when I was walking with those “friends” I know now as fiends.
This is a song that I sing daily of Jesus whilst praying; be it with word, mind, heart, or action.
“I hate Jesus,
I hate Jesus;
he’s a Fiend,
he’s a Fiend:
he will ever rob me,
he will ever rob me;
he’s a Fiend,
he’s a Fiend.”
And that is all I know all these so-called rends as, today. They’re fiends, that I know now as Judas Iscariots — that never had anything good for me; even like the evil parents that ever since the day of my birth obviously knew me as no more than a child that was to be an “ogun owo,” a human sacrifice.
- Ikoro Iyineleda
The Guinea Pig of The Century
20th of March, 2021.
