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OPINION: How I Quit Smoking (2)

Published

1 year ago

July 19, 2024

Tunde Odesola

Cocaine, opioids and alcohol addiction is in the same league as tobacco addiction, says the Center for Addiction and Mental Health, Canada’s largest research and mental health teaching hospital. Members of the opioid family include heroin, morphine, codeine, oxycodone, hydrocodone and fentanyl, according to the Johns Hopkins University medical website.

Unbelievable! Cocaine, heroin, codeine, and morphine sharing the same podium with cigarettes? Surprise dropped my jaws, disbelief wrinkled my forehead. I had thought cocaine and opioids were the GOAT of narcotics. Little did I know the nicotine in tobacco qualifies the cigarette for the big league, too.

How on earth did cocaine and its siblings become comrades-in-harms with cigarettes? It’s because inhaled cigarette smoke delivers nicotine to the brain within 20 seconds!

Home to breakthroughs in psychiatric research and the revolutionary discovery of dopamine receptors, CAMH says: “Nicotine releases a chemical called dopamine in the same regions of the brain as other addictive drugs. It (nicotine) causes mood-altering changes that make the person temporarily feel good. Inhaled smoke delivers nicotine to the brain within 20 seconds, which makes it very addictive—comparable to opioids, alcohol and cocaine.”

According to the foremost Canadian hospital, a simple way of identifying addiction is the cohabitation of 4 Cs in an addict. The 4 Cs are: (1) CRAVING (2) Loss of CONTROL of amount or frequency of use, (3) COMPULSION to use, and (4) Use despite CONSEQUENCES.

Relatedly, addiction explains a chronic condition experienced when a substance or behaviour is withdrawn from the user, e.g. someone addicted to coffee might feel restless if he doesn’t get coffee when the craving arises.

Globally, millions of people battle various forms of addiction such as gambling, masturbation, hard drugs, overeating, kleptomania, shopping and alcoholism.

In general, there are four levels of addiction: physical, emotional, mental and spiritual. A study published in the American Psychological Association says religious faith and spirituality may help people recover from substance abuse. The research, “Religious Denomination Affiliation and Psychological Health: Results From a Substance Abuse Population,” was authored by Thomas G. Plante, Ph.D, et al.

FROM THE AUTHOR: OPINION: How I Quit Smoking (1)

Let’s go back to me. How did I eat my frog? Firstly, I took myself to the mountain of transfiguration through the valley of awareness. That was when I brought myself to the realisation that cigarette was evil for my body. I criminalised cigarette and viewed it as the most despicable consumable product. When I laid it upon my mind to stop, I began to see smokers like me as victims pinned down under the weight of Zuma Rock. I knew it would take more than a mere wish to rescue me from under the yoke.

So, I personally took the matter to God. This is the second stage of the fight. I went on my knees in prayer. I didn’t run to no pastor or imam or babalawo because I knew that God, my Maker, would hear my supplication quicker and clearer than He would hear it from any third party cassocked, turbaned or ‘lawani-ed’ as a saintly servant of God brandishing scented scriptures. Did He not say, “Ask and it shall be given. Seek and ye shall find. Knock and it shall be opened?” No mortal intercessor can convey the needs of the child better to the Father in filial terms than the child, except the child be illegitimate. I’m a legitimate child of God. Christ finished the work of intercession on the Cross and flung open the door to the Father for all.

At the second stage, I stumbled many times. Before leaving home in the morning, I would pray to God to guide me against smoking but would find myself still heading to Muhammed’s kiosk up the street. That’s when I would remember there was something I needed to discuss with Sola Tomoloju aka Sholay or Lai Ibidunni aka Layo Osha or Ayo Akinola aka Lado or Fela aka Orunmila or egbon Kole Ebisemiju aka Katuzi or the late Kayode Tomoju aka Sir Kay. All these great men lived opposite the mallam’s kiosk. Did they smoke? They belched smoke like a locomotive train.

I knew I shouldn’t go there. I knew I couldn’t escape smoking once I got there. I would say to myself, “Tunde, pádà. Turn back. There’s no way you won’t smoke there.” But I would warm myself strictly, “Listen, you mustn’t stay more than two minutes there o. Just brace up yourself. Do everything pá pà pá and leave,” – I would find myself helplessly propelled by an unseen force towards Muhammed’s kiosk. Little did I realise that the conversation within me was a raging battle inside my conscience between good and evil. It wasn’t the devil. It was a battle of choice, of free will.

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As the war within me raged and I approached Muhammed’s kiosk, I would meet one of my fellow smokers, especially Sir Kay, who was fun to be with. “Professor, you look good,” he would say, adding, “Collect two Consulate and Tom Tom from Muhammed, I’ll pay.” While contemplating telling him to pay and that I would come and smoke later, Sir Kay would bring up a political topic, “Dis our political class ehn, dem don finish us.” My resolve would evaporate. I would light the cigarette, take a puff, and tears would well in my eyes. I would flick the ash of the cigarette as it burned without smoking it, holding the conversation and blinking away my tears.

Seidu was another mallam in my area whose kiosk hangared a hodgepodge of stuff comprising mosquito coil, chewing stick, paracetamol, aboliki, kuli kuli, sugar, Maggi, tin tomato, milk, pencil, kola, soap, blade and, of course, cigarettes. Every kiosk-owning mallam in Lagos sold cigarettes.

Muhammed and Seidu were Fulani from the Niger Republic. Their credit facilities were better than any known Nigerian bank. Even though you owe, you would be given fresh commodities if you pay for the new ones you’re buying. At the end of the day, they would whisper to you gently, “Me, I dey go market next week,” informing you of your debt and the need to pay. I wonder if those folks ever made a profit. I never really owed, though. Whenever I said, “I’II stop smoking,” I’m sure they would say in their minds, “You, major shareholder, stop smoking? Abi I dey craze? You no go ever stop in Insha Allah!”

Separately, both would openly say, “E good make you stop. Me, I wan stop too. Siga no good at all,” and other fellow smokers would join in the conversation, expressing their views on the goodness and badness of smoking. This was when nobody cared where anybody came from. It was when the Fulani were the yardstick for trust and frugality. This was long before Muhammadu ibn Buhari came and put a knife into what held us together… things fall apart as madmen and specialists took the reins.

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Later, I changed my tactic by changing my route; I refused to pass by Muhammed or Seidu’s kiosks. But, at times, I would have succeeded in evading all cigarette-selling mallams all day only for me to want to chill out with a bottle or two in the evening and I would inexplicably find a cigarette between my fingers. “Ha, Tunde!” I would sigh, feeling myself a letdown.

For many, smoking and drinking are Siamese twins. Separating the two is akin to using a sword without its handle. Smoking is the scabbard, alcohol is the sword, both work hand in glove, like the two hands of the grandfather clock; when you see one, know the other is coming behind, counting – tick-tock – telling smoke-weakened lungs, kidneys and liver, “Your cock has a few more corn to eat before its final crow. The body is willing but the organs are weak. RIP, soon.”

I succeeded in separating alcohol from smoking. Though I still drink rarely, I no longer rum like a pirate. I stopped ‘beering’, I now seldomly wine red wine, whisk whiskey, swish vodka if brandy isn’t available and down some scotch to scorch the cold in me – all in line with the advice of Apostle Paul in Timothy 5:23, which says, “No longer drink only water, but use a little wine for your stomach’s sake and your frequent infirmities (KJV).

Something happened when I visited Israel on a pilgrimage many years ago. We visited many religious sites. Some of them bore the inscription, “Silence” or “No noise, please.” Our guides would tell us the solemnity attached to the place of visit but as soon as Nigerian pilgrims got in, they would begin to shout, casting and binding to Hades all manner of imaginary spirits, speaking in a million tongues.

These were the same people who would stuff their pockets with boiled eggs, fruits, etc after mealtimes even when they knew there would still be an overabundance of food when they returned for their next meal.

I had stopped smoking then. But I always bypassed them on my way to the bar whenever they gathered in the hotel lobbies, praying for long periods, disturbing other hoteliers. Some of them would eye me from afar as I nursed my $6 beer, and I would mind my beer, saying in my mind, “I don’t serve a Pharisee God.”

Concluded

News

Out-of-school: Group To Enroll Adolescent Mothers In Bauchi

Published

19 hours ago

December 10, 2025

Editor

Women Child Youth Health and Education Initiative (WCY) with support from Malala Education Champion Network, have charted a way to enroll adolescent mothers to access education in Bauchi schools.

Rashida Mukaddas, the Executive Director, WCY stated this in Bauchi on Wednesday during a one-day planning and inception meeting with education stakeholders on Adolescent Mothers Education Access (AMEA) project of the organisation.

According to her, the project targeted three Local Government Areas of Bauchi, Misau and Katagum for implementation in the three years project.

She explained that all stakeholders in advancing education in the state would be engaged by the organisation to advocate for Girl-Child education.

The target, she added, was to ensure that as many as married adolescent mothers and girls were enrolled back in school in the state.

“Today marks an important step in our collective commitment to ensuring that every girl in Bauchi state, especially adolescent who are married, pregnant, or young mothers has the right, opportunity, and support to continue and complete her education.

“This project has been designed to address the real and persistent barriers that prevent too many adolescent mothers from returning to school or staying enrolled.

“It is to address the barriers preventing adolescent mothers from continuing and completing their education and adopting strategies that will create an enabling environment that safeguard girls’ rights to education while removing socio-cultural and economic obstacles,” said Mukaddas.

She further explained to the stakeholders that the success of the project depended on the strength of their collaboration, the alignment of their actions, and the commitments they forge toward the implementation of the project.

Also speaking, Mr Kamal Bello, the Project Officer of WCY, said that the collaboration of all the education stakeholders in the state with the organisation could ensure stronger enforcement of the Child Rights Law.

This, he said, could further ensure effective re-entry and retention policies for adolescent girls, increased community support for girls’ education and a Bauchi state where no girl was left behind because of marriage, pregnancy, or motherhood.

“It is observed that early marriage is one of the problems hindering girls’ access to education.

“This organisation is working toward ensuring that girls that have dropped out of school due to early marriage are re-enrolled back in school,” he said.

Education stakeholders present at the event included representatives from the state Ministry of Education, Justice, Budget and Economic Planning and Multilateral Coordination.

Others were representatives from International Federation of Women Lawyers, Adolescent Girls Initiative for Learning and Empowerment (AGILE), Bauchi state Agency for Mass Education, Civil Society Organization, Religious and Traditional institutions, among others.

They all welcomed and promised to support the project so as to ensure its effective implementation and achieve its set objectives in the state.

News

OPINION: Fubara, Adeleke And The Survival Dance

Published

19 hours ago

December 10, 2025

Editor

By Israel Adebiyi

You should be aware by now that the dancing governor, Ademola Adeleke has danced his last dance in the colours of the Peoples Democratic Party. His counterpart in Rivers, Siminalayi Fubara has elected to follow some of his persecutors to the All Progressive Congress, after all “if you can’t beat them, you can join them.”
Politics in Nigeria has always been dramatic, but every now and then a pattern emerges that forces us to pause and think again about where our democracy is heading. This week on The Nation’s Pulse, that pattern is what I call the politics of survival. Two events in two different states have brought this into sharp focus. In both cases, sitting governors elected on the platform of the same party have found new homes elsewhere. Their decisions may look sudden, but they reveal deeper issues that have been growing under the surface for years.

In Rivers, Governor Siminalayi Fubara has crossed into the All Progressives Congress. In Osun, Governor Ademola Adeleke has moved to the Accord Party. These are not small shifts. These are moves by people at the top of their political careers, people who ordinarily should be the ones holding their parties together. When those at the highest levels start fleeing, it means the ground beneath them has become too shaky to stand on. It means something has broken.

A Yoruba proverb captures it perfectly: Iku to n pa oju gba eni, owe lo n pa fun ni. The death that visits your neighbour is sending you a message. The crisis that has engulfed the Peoples Democratic Party did not start today. It has been building like an untreated infection. Adeleke saw the signs early. He watched senior figures fight openly. He watched the party fail to resolve its zoning battles. He watched leaders undermine their own candidates. At some point, you begin to ask yourself a simple question: if this house collapses today, what happens to me? In Osun, where the competition between the two major parties has always been fierce, Adeleke was not going to sit back and become another casualty of a party that refused to heal itself. Survival became the most reasonable option.

His case makes sense when you consider the political temperature in Osun. This is a state where the opposition does not sleep. Every misstep is amplified. Every weakness is exploited. Adeleke has spent his time in office under constant scrutiny. Add that to the fact that the national structure of his party is wobbly, divided and uncertain about its future, and the move begins to look less like betrayal and more like self-preservation.

Rivers, however, tells a slightly different story. Fubara’s journey has been a long lesson in endurance. From the moment he emerged as governor, it became clear he was stepping into an environment loaded with expectations that had nothing to do with governance. His political godfather was not content with being a supporter. He wanted control. He wanted influence. He wanted obedience. Every decision was interpreted through the lens of loyalty. From the assembly crisis to the endless reconciliation meetings, to the barely hidden power struggles, Fubara spent more time fighting shadows than building the state he was elected to lead.

It soon became clear that he was governing through a maze of minefields. Those who should have been allies began to treat him like an accidental visitor in the Government House. The same legislators who were meant to be partners in governance suddenly became instruments of pressure. Orders came from places outside the official structure. Courtrooms turned into battlegrounds. At some point, even the national leadership of his party seemed unsure how to tame the situation. These storms did not come in seasons, they came in waves. One misunderstanding today. Another in two weeks. Another by the end of the month. Anyone watching closely could see that the governor was in a permanent state of emergency.

So when the winds started shifting again and lawmakers began to realign, those who understood the undercurrents knew exactly what was coming. Fubara knew too. A man can only take so much. After months of attacks, humiliations and attempts to cage his authority, the move to another party was not just political. It was personal. He had given the reconciliation process more chances than most would. He had swallowed more insults than any governor should. He had watched institutions bend and twist under the weight of private interests. In many ways, his defection is a declaration that he has finally chosen to protect himself.

But the bigger question is how we got here. How did two governors in two different parts of the country end up taking the same decision for different but related reasons? The answer goes back to the state of internal democracy in our parties. No party in Nigeria today fully practices the constitution it claims to follow. They have elaborate rules on paper but very loose habits in reality. They talk about fairness, but their primaries are often messy. They preach unity, but their caucuses are usually divided into rival camps. They call themselves democratic institutions, yet dissent is treated as disloyalty.

Political parties are supposed to be the engine rooms of democracy. They are the homes where ideas are debated, leaders are groomed, and future candidates are shaped. In Nigeria, they increasingly look like fighting arenas where the loudest voices drown out everyone else. When leaders ignore their own constitutions, the structure begins to crack. When factions begin to run parallel meetings, the foundation gets weaker. When decisions are forced down the throats of members, people begin making private plans for their future.

No governor wants to govern in chaos. No politician wants to be the last one standing in a sinking ship. This is why defections are becoming more common. A party that cannot manage itself cannot manage its members. And members who feel exposed will always look for safer ground.

But while these moves make sense for Adeleke and Fubara personally, the people they govern often become the ones left in confusion. Voters choose candidates partly because of party ideology, even if our ideologies are weak. They expect stability. They expect continuity. They expect that the mandate they gave will remain intact. So when a governor shifts political camp without prior consultation, the people feel blindsided. They begin to wonder whether their votes carry weight in a system where elected officials can switch platforms in the blink of an eye.

This is where the politics of survival becomes dangerous for democracy. If leaders keep prioritizing their personal safety over party stability, the system begins to lose coherence. Parties lose their identity. Elections lose their meaning. Governance becomes a game of musical chairs. Today you are here. Tomorrow you are there. Next week you may be somewhere else. The people become bystanders in a democracy that is supposed to revolve around them.

Rivers and Osun should serve as reminders that political parties need urgent restructuring. They need to rebuild trust internally. They need to enforce their constitutions consistently. They need to treat members as stakeholders, not spectators. When members feel protected, they stay. When they feel targeted, they run. This pattern will continue until parties learn the simple truth that power is not built by intimidation, but by inclusion.

There is also the question of what these defections mean for governance. When governors are dragged into endless party drama, service delivery suffers. Time that should be spent on roads, schools, hospitals, water projects and job creation ends up being spent in meetings, reconciliations and press briefings. Resources that should strengthen the state end up funding political battles. The public loses twice. First as witnesses to the drama. Then as victims of delayed or abandoned development.

In Rivers, the months of tension slowed down the government. Initiatives were stalled because the governor was busy trying to survive political ambush. In Osun, Adeleke had to juggle governance with internal fights in a crumbling party structure. Imagine what they could have achieved if they were not constantly looking over their shoulders.

Now, as both men settle into new political homes, the final question is whether these new homes will provide stability or merely temporary shelter. Nigeria’s politics teaches one consistent lesson. New alliances often come with new expectations. New platforms often come with new demands. And new godfathers often come with new conditions. Whether Adeleke and Fubara have truly found peace or simply bought time is something only time will tell.

But as citizens, what we must insist on is simple. The politics of survival should not become the politics of abandonment. Our leaders can fight for their political life, but they must not forget that they hold the people’s mandate. The hunger, poverty, insecurity and infrastructural decay that Nigerians face will not be solved by defection. It will be solved by steady leadership and functional governance.

The bigger lesson from Rivers and Osun is clear. If political parties in Nigeria continue on this path of disunity and internal sabotage, they will keep losing their brightest and most strategic figures. And if leaders keep running instead of reforming the system, then we will wake up one day to a democracy where the people are treated as an afterthought.

Governors may survive the storms. Parties may adjust to new alignments. But the people cannot keep paying the price. Nigeria deserves a democracy that works for the many, not the few. That is the real pulse of the nation.

News

Human Rights Day: Stakeholders Call For More Campaigns Against GBV

Published

20 hours ago

December 10, 2025

Editor

Panel of discussants at an event to commemorate the International Human Rights Day, 2025 on Wednesday called for more campaigns against Gender-Based Violence, adding that it must start from the family.

The panel of discussants drawn from religious and community leaders, security agents, members of the civil society community, chiefs, etc, made the call in Benin in an event organised by Justice Development & Peace Centre (JDPC), Benin, in collaboration with Women Aid Collective (WACOL) with the theme: Multilevel Dialogue for Men, Women, Youth and Critical Take holders on the Prevention and Response to Gender-Based Violence (GBV).

The stakeholders, who said causes of GBV are enormous, called for more enlightenment and education in the family, community and the religious circle.

Security agents in the panel charged members of the public to report GBV cases to security agents regardless of the sex Involved, adding: “When GBV happens, it should be reported to the appropriate quarters. It doesn’t matter if the woman or the man is the victim. GBV perpetrators should not be covered up, they must be exposed. We are there to carry out the prosecution after carrying out the necessary investigation.”

Earlier in his opening remarks, Executive Director, JDPC, Rev. Fr. Benedicta Onwugbenu, lamented that (GBV) remains the most prevalent in the society yet hidden because of silence from victims.

According to him, GBV knows no age, gender or race, adding that “It affects people of all ages, whether man or woman, boy or girl.”

“It affects people from different backgrounds and communities, yet it remains hidden because of silence, stigma, and fear. Victims of GBV are suffering in silence.”

On her part, Programme Director, WACOL, Mrs. Francisca Nweke, who said “women are more affected, and that is why we are emphasising on them,” stressed “we are empowering Christian women and women leaders of culture for prevention and response to Gender-Based Violence in Nigeria through the strengthening of grassroots organisations.”