Author: Osmund Agbo
War stands as a perpetually futile response to challenges. The culmination of one conflict frequently unfurls the prologue to yet another. Upon the US intervention in Iraq, extinguishing Saddam Hussein and unsettling not merely Iraq, but the vast expanse of the Middle East, a subsequent expedition ensued to counter a new group of barbarians recognized as Islamic State (ISIS) —unveiling the cyclic nature of armed struggles. This tempestuous cascade reverberated globally, manifesting through a kaleidoscope of terrorist entities in locales spanning from Libya and Yemen to the intricate tapestry of nations adorning Africa’s Sahel region. It’s often said that major…
In the realm of human achievement, the stories of world-famous autodidacts challenge the conventional notion of over-reliance on formal education as the sole path to wisdom and success. History is replete with examples of remarkable individuals who, despite lacking formal education, possessed extraordinary wisdom and made enduring contributions to society. “Dreams from My Father” is a poignant memoir by Barack Obama, the 44th President of the United States. In this compelling narrative, Obama reflects on his personal journey of self-discovery, identity, and the search for belonging. Spanning his early years in Hawaii to his travels to Africa, the book delves…
Editorial The destiny of the Labour Party as the liberating third force in Nigeria is at a crossroads. Only time will reveal if they will uphold their reputation or succumb to the allure of sharing the national cake like their major party counterparts. However, one thing remains certain: the LP, which garnered immense support from passionate Nigerian youths, who defended, campaigned, and voted for change, must not lose its distinct identity. Abandoning their mission for politics as usual would be a tragic letdown. It now falls on the shoulders of Peter Obi and the LP leadership to carry this…
By Osmund Agbo A fortnight ago while embarking on a condolence visit with a friend who lost his brother, I got sucked into a heated exchange with a couple of friends. Our commute took us to the old road that passes through the iconic Enugwu Ngwo Milken hill. That was the first time in almost three decades that I plied that route. It used to be a death valley that had cut down so many in their primes and upended the lives of a good number of families. Today, the road is neatly paved with needed guardrails, painstakingly installed in…