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JOURNALISM IN RAPIDLY-CHANGING WORLD

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  The true essence of journalism is to provide, distribute and report reliable information or current events to the citizens, supported with proof of evidence. Journalism is dated back to the seventeenth century, reporting news to the general public in a standardized fashion. While the news hasn’t changed a bit through the centuries, the professional description of journalism has been in a continuous shift in this rapidly changing world. In this rapid changing world of extensive technological advancement, journalism as well as many other professions would either adapt or plunge.   The media landscape has seen great significant changes since the turn of the twenty first century, due to the proliferation of the internet and smartphones. The ambivalent prospects of communication complexity of current global conditions and the availability of internet opposed the traditional Journalistic format of newspapers, magazines, television and other news channels. This revolution has created a sh
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FATHERHOOD

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  In all the acclimatization of this whole fatherhood thing, I still hate the sight and smell of poo.   Steph tried numerous times to teach me how to change the baby’s diaper but I was never interested. Excuses never ran out from my archive. Why should I learn when I know she’s not leaving anytime soon…I mean… why is she the mother?   My avalanche of excuses kept coming until few days ago when my mother came to visit; I learnt to change diaper the hard way. Steph had gone to the market with my mother and the baby was sleeping in her cradle; she gave me her food and all she needed in case she wakes up. But I guess Steph left out details. Or perhaps, I wasn’t listening. Maybe I didn’t pay full attention to details. I was caught in my oblivious. Believe it or not, the baby woke up with deafening cry the very moment they left home.   I picked her up to rock her back to sleep only to catch the whiff of the one thing I dread the most. My soul almost left my body. I quickly put her down a
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Idle Wishes

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I wish to drive In Bugatti Veyron with entourage In Italian suits Smoking fifty dollar cigar As I sip Dalmore selene I wish to sit In the luxury of my house With servants at the snap of my fingers My boys do all the work While my account fattens I wish to become A better man for my woman Serve her breakfast in bed every morning Gift of roses every Wednesday And romantic dinners every Saturday I wish to be a famous poet Flying first class from Lagos To Los Angeles to Mumbai With my name falls seven On every ten lips I wish my wishes Come true and true And my dreams become reality That I shall never see death.                
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A Long Way Home by Doyle Edeni

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A LONG WAY HOME BY DOYLE EDENI review by I.J. Kalia Everyone, no matter the race, gender or status is going through a journey in this life. A Long Way Home is six part anthology of seventy-five free verse poetry with tales of the mountains and valleys in the author’s journey throw life. The rhythmical arrangement in the poems collection brings poetry into  its array. A Long Way Home is an easy read, as anyone could easily find his or her place through the journey of life in this book. This book is a must read for anyone who understands that life is a journey.
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MARRIAGE IN NIGERIA

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Marriage in Nigeria is now a big franchise, it’s more likely to a building project. Young men are afraid to get married all because of the inane cost. Now, marriage is in steps, just like a building project.   First, you’ll dig the foundation, you’ll rest; after another six months you’ll come back and lay the blocks, then rest again, come back for the lintel , roofing and then do the finishes.            I doubt if there is ever a ‘finishing’ in Nigerian marriage. Other developed countries work fine with either the court wedding, or the church. Back in the days of my elementary school, I was taught kinds of marriage in social studies. If I could recall, I know we have court, church and traditional marriage. But I think the social studies text book should be reviewed, because nowadays, we do all, plus extra...all in one.           I got to learn about the extra when I began my own marriage plans. Title of events were just coming up anyhow. I heard one called ‘knocking-at-the
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SPEAK UP!

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A lot of men today, walk about like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode at the slightest provocation. This instills violence in their nature as they walk about with a heart heavy as a crane with no one to share the burden with. A lady might be going through a crisis and she will cry out; ask her why she's crying with a little perseverance and she'll tell you and that is it. Men on the other hand, live in perpetual denial. Even when a man is caught crying, he'd look you in the eyes and tell you he's not crying. A week ago, I wanted to get something at Wuse market, I saw a Taxi man with his head on his steering wheel and I thought maybe he was resting or sleeping. I knocked at the window, he raised his face and I saw his eyes. He was actually crying.   "Wuse market,” I was barely audible.   “250,” he replied without looking at me. He was struggling to clean his tears. I wanted to ask why he was crying but didn't know how to begin. He noticed by the wa
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He Rants: "Confused Feminist"

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These girls will not kill me. They annoy me to the soul. Most times, I wonder what happened to our mothers-kind-of girls. Virtually all the girls I see now come with a label; ‘FEMINIST’. I tried to be as liberal as I can possibly be to see reasons with them but only to get confused the more. The other day, a lady walked out on me on a date night just because I asked her view on feminism. I allowed her explain in peace o; but when I said my view on feminism, it became a problem. In fact judging by the looks I saw in her eyes plus the bottle of coca cola sitting before her, I was lucky to have left the lounge with my head bandage free. There is no name she didn’t call me that very night. Of all the avalanche of the names she called me that night, ‘Antifeminist’ and ‘typical African man’ stuck on my mind. But for peace to reign I humbled myself and composed a two page SMS I had to surf online for clues, bought flowers, packed my ego and begged.   If begging were to be a game in the
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