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Sov: Sanity or Vanity
Sov: Sanity or Vanity
Sov: Sanity or Vanity
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Sov: Sanity or Vanity

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SOV is a thrilling narration of a person who has gone beyond redemption, but his life story is about to make great influence in the life of another positively.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateFeb 4, 2015
ISBN9781482805727
Sov: Sanity or Vanity
Author

Bilyaminu K. Aliyu

The Bilyaminu I know is a serious-minded person who takes what he does seriously and is committed to what is dear to his heart. He is reliable and very resourceful. We met at the university, and ever since, he never stops to amaze me for his commitment and hard work. He follows his dream with passion and, to the best of my knowledge, is a patriotic Nigerian devoid of ethnicity and tribalism. A good mathematician, I must say, and a friend anyone would want to depend on. Have a discussion with him in five minutes and you’ll always want to listen to him again and again because he drives home his points and articulates his ideas. Though sometimes he could be stubborn but easily falls back in line whenever the need arises. —Alaya Abdulazeez I.

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    Book preview

    Sov - Bilyaminu K. Aliyu

    Copyright © 2015 by Bilyaminu K. Aliyu.

    ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-4828-0573-4

          eBook         978-1-4828-0572-7

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    www.partridgepublishing.com/africa

    CONTENTS

    Chapter 1

    Chapter 2

    Chapter 3

    Chapter 4

    Chapter 5

    Chapter 6

    Chapter 7

    Chapter 8

    Chapter 9

    Chapter 10

    Chapter 11

    Chapter 12

    Chapter 13

    Chapter 14

    To Aminu Kangiwa, who saw me through SOV.

    Chapter 1

    E veryone knows too little, or rather, everyone is illiterate compared to the knowledge that lies before the naked eyes. One cannot readily remember an event as accurately as it had happened in real life. People sometimes try to embellish an event to an extent of belief but, along their selfish path, pave the way for distortion down the memory lanes of their audience and others. The real events that had unfolded that people don’t have an idea of are concealed forever.

    If you could rewind the hands of time, I doubt if you could make another step forward or backward from your standing point. But today before you, due to the discreet ways of nature, you can see well-laid-out, beautiful green landscaped grass across the lands. When the old sit, looking focused, it is obvious the mind is travelling through the years.

    Your decision today, if given the same chance a few years later, will differ. Nature seems quite good in settling all odds. The cloudy smoke and dust of the battles fought, the corpses that were laid and had rotted alongside other animals used during the fights, the abandoned weapons, and the wealth acquired during the wars—all had been hushed and had disappeared in silence.

    Different stories are told by different people that even history has lost its tracks. If not for nature, one would have learned to adhere to history in making decisions rather than to mindset. Decision-making is like how the old saying goes, ‘Your actions today would be your tomorrow and the history for the unborn.’ But people, with the consent of their hearts, allow that which will hurt them to gain advantage in their lives.

    People make decisions, forgetting that their doings will not only affect them but also their descendants. ‘God!’ many would say. ‘If only I had known.’ With an expression of incomprehension, they ask, ‘How deep is this ship going to sink? How could I have been so blind not to have seen that the little crack at the bottom of the ship would bring it down this far?’ Gloomily waiting for the unknown, they faintly repeat endlessly in their hearts, ‘God! If only I had I known.’

    Now people cannot even feel the joy they once felt when they sacrificed the future for a token. It has been in his prayers to have the gadget of this world and hereafter. When people cry out of intense emotional pain, they draw attention from their environment, but if you’re to judge by the situation, they’ve had all privileges given to them; life would seem nothing but barely a drama for entertainment. Humanity has forgotten the sense of being humane and to live a civilized life! Yes, the meaning is a thing to uphold, but why does it hurt our living? The primary basis of civilization has its way of reducing local unity and treating it as a global issue. This eliminates a lot of vital, sensible aspects of local unity.

    Unconscious of the time, Joshua sadly sat on his bed, wondering in his mind. If he had not been alone, the look on his face would have caused alarm. He gazed straight at the wall across the room, which had nothing on it except for a single peg almost at the top level of the wall.

    Beside his bed was a stool, which had a lamp and two notebooks on it. By the left-hand side of the tail end of the bed was an open door leading to the bathroom. Across that door was another door leading to the sitting room. At the right side of the bed, towards the top, where Joshua was sitting, moonlight entered the room, slightly giving partial light rays, though the rays did nothing for good vision. By the right side of the door leading to the sitting room, slightly above the height of the door was a hanger filled with well-ironed safari jackets. The funny thing about this hanger was that the clothes hung on it were all safari jackets and were the same in colour except for one safari jacket, which was black.

    The room had a single ceiling fan and a lamp holder positioned at the centre of the ceiling. This house Joshua lived in had a single room, which had its own bathroom, a sitting room having one timber seat, and a kitchen. There was nothing interesting about the house. It was not suitable for entertaining visitors. If not for the cleanliness of the place, one would not believe it was a home.

    Joshua’s last name is Abraham. He was tall and well built in body structure; he was not completely fair, but fair to an extent. He was not completely good-looking but stands a good chance with any lady. But for years now, Joshua had no single visitor except for Professor Ambrose. And even the professor only came once, a few days before one New Year’s Eve.

    People around had gossiped about him day and night whether he was passing by or not. Now they were even tired of gossiping; he had become an occasional topic. He had simple looks, was handsome and charismatic, but he never talks or says hi when passing by—never had on record. Joshua was turning forty in the few days to come, but who would have known? People could only guess, for he was a stranger amidst a people.

    Unknown to many, before then, Joshua had been a senior lecturer in the University of Jos, which was in the heart of Africa’s most populous country, Nigeria. He had lectured on sociology for thirteen years, and he’d loved what he was doing; he was full of life. One can never be bored sitting with Joshua. Students hardly miss his classes, and they mostly say there is something special in the way he lecturers. Comprehension was so easy in his class that he had the most excellent academic results. Joshua has always topped in whatever he sets out to do.

    Funny enough, Joshua had never dreamt of becoming a sociologist; he had wanted to become a doctor. He often told his mother, who had also doubled as his father when he was a lad, ‘People would not need drugs if I’m a doctor.’ Joshua meant it. He gives life to people around him.

    His mother once said to him on her deathbed, ‘If you were a doctor, I wouldn’t have to use all these drugs.’ But Joshua could only smile through his tears, telling her that she had a place where people don’t actually need drugs to heal. ‘You have made my world, Ma.’ He cried silently. His mother, being a strong person, had dictated what was to happen and not to happen during her days with Joshua. She had willed his life and where she wanted him to be.

    Hours passed by, and Joshua still gazed at the wall across his bed. It was nothing new with him, being in that situation. It had been his custom for over two years now. He usually went to bed around 7 p.m. and woke up around 3 a.m. When he heard the crows of the cock in the morning, he would get out of bed and start preparing for work. Impressively, Joshua, a man whom the community found abnormal, had a job.

    It had been eventful day. That day, Professor Ambrose visited Joshua. His neighbour, who also happened to be his landlord and lived in the same compound with Joshua, called his wife to witness this event. The tension was nothing compared to when Joshua was walking the professor out. When Professor Ambrose came in, he took no one’s notice except for the neighbour who at that moment was staring out through the window. The neighbour began to wonder who this person was, and he was surprised that the stranger went into Joshua’s small home. Professor Ambrose, though unfamiliar with the environment, still sensed the feeling of curiosity from the looks he got from the people around.

    Prof. Hyacinth Ambrose was not

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