Opinion

Idiom Of The Palm Tree

Published

5 years ago

October 1, 2020

Idiom of the palm tree begins with the truth that no part of that tree, common in southern part of Nigeria, is, or should be, wasted. Apart from the palm oil derived from the ripe nuts, the kernel also produces palm kernel oil which can be used as ointment as well as health care purposes. The shells and fibre from the nuts and kernel serve as fuel and other purposes; research and experiments also show that palm kernel shells are used for other products. Leaves of the palm tree are used to produce brooms for domestic use, while the stem produces sweet wine. Ashes from burnt parts of the palm tree are used to produce black local soap as well as serve medicinal purposes.
Before the advent of Western civilization, palm tree was a symbol of industry, honest labour and self-reliance in traditional African economy. Palm tree became the symbol of an early political party in Nigeria and, up to 1967, palm produce featured as a principal revenue earner for individuals and regional governments. Another idiom of the palm tree is the interdependent nature of a vibrant economy, of which palm produce connected and brought many people together as partners in productive endeavours.
While the growth and spread of the palm trees were vibrant and natural, no one was known to water or apply manure or fertilizer on growing palm trees, neither were security guards hired to protect the zones where the trees grew freely. While people from certain parts of Nigeria would climb and harvest the ripe palm fruits, there were others who processed the fruits into red palm oil. Cooperation reigned.
In the days of produce and sanitary inspectors, no one was known to have produced or sold fake products which endangered the health of anyone. Palm produce, from red oil to palm kernel and other derivatives, were inspected and graded, such that the market price was determined by quality. Those who climbed the trees to harvest the palm fruits were different from those who gathered and transported the fruits to the processing venues. Similarly, processors of the palm oil and palm kernel oil as well as the nuts for sale, were quite different categories of people working to earn a living.
Middlemen, traders, buyers, transporters, etc, were also different categories of hustlers working to earn a living. Prior to 1960, white men were seen in various produce business. Oil mills were established in many places, especially close to navigable rivers and creeks, such that those who could not process the palm oil themselves, sold the fruits to nearest Oil Mills. The Nigerian Civil War (1967-1970) changed the pattern of the economy. In Rivers State, a giant state-owned oil palm processing plant was established in Ubima.
Some foreigners came to Nigeria to learn about the palm tree and its uses and went back home to start serious business in palm oil, from growing the trees, to processing the oil. Old oil mills built by colonial administrations, turned into criminal hide-outs, but the one in Rumukwurushi harbours traders. The story of Risonpalm remains an idiom of its own. Still, local processing of palm oil remains a ready means of economic engagement, but oil itself in general remains an idiom and also an enigma.
A more important aspect of the idiom of the palm tree is the fact that what gives rise to its products and revenue-generating parts lies deep in the ground. Thus, real money which is the lubricant of an economy, lies in the ground, commonly known as gold, a solid mineral. What is harvested atop the palm tree and then processed for profit, represents paper money, naira. The idiom can be expanded to include the fact that what results in profit derives from honest labour, coupled with application of shrewd economic sense. Honest labour includes the direction of personal ability towards productive services, plus use of natural resources.
Thus, another idiom of the palm tree is that you don’t just look at it, but help yourself by making a bold start, using what you have readily at hand.
To use what you have at hand to generate benefits includes using the economic principle of comparative advantage by identifying what your strongest ability is, among others. If you cannot climb the palm tree, you may find and liaise with someone who can; and if you cannot process the palm fruits into oil, then get someone who can do that. At the end, there would be collaborative efforts to move the economy and generate products and benefits.
Perhaps, you don’t own a piece of land where palm trees grow, but there is another idiom from the palm tree. The tree grows tall, with its roots in the soil and usually has thorns that can pierce the body, causing injuries. One of the guidelines for utilization of personal ability is to understand vital power of the mind, fired by personal volition. Fear is destructive, but its positive aspect demands weighing and testing possibilities and chances, before plunging into deep waters. Taking informed actions in any product would demand exploring options and pitfalls, because every economy has its rules of engagement and risks.
The palm tree and activities connected with it, have to do with agriculture. Apart from being ancient and natural activity, agriculture demonstrates the idiom that man’s well-being does not lie in staying idle, but tilling the soil. Tilling the soil is synonymous with applying the hands in productive labour, after using the head as source of guidance and inspiration. How did ancient people know that palm tree is a money-yielding plant? A zeal to add value to life often expands the mind to draw inspirations from unknown quarters. Ask, and it shall be given!
Personal impetus to exert oneself in productive and creative engagements usually draws inspirations if the motive is not just money alone or fame. When humans ignore or abuse Nature in the quest for money, the result is usually that our eyes get so dim that we rarely see the bounties which Nature proffers to us. While we scramble for mineral oil and allocation of oil blocks, we would not remember that palm oil was our help in ages past! Now, who owns 83% of mineral oil? Ask Senator Ita Enang!
Dr Amirize is a retired lecturer from the Rivers State University, Port Harcourt.

Opinion

Dark Side Of Digital Distractions

Published

4 days ago

October 6, 2025

The Tide

Quote:”The next time you find yourself at the scene of an accident, remember that there are real people involved, with real stories and real struggles. And there’s a real opportunity for you to make a difference”.

Accident happens in an instant, but its impact can last lifelong. When the sounds of screeching tires and crunching metal fill the air, it’s human nature to turn and look. But what drives us to gaze upon the wreckage, to slow down and stare at the scene of an accident? Is it morbid curiosity, a desire for a thrill, or something more complex? In the moments following a crash, a strange and fascinating dynamic unfolds – one that reveals as much about us as it does about the accident itself. In this story I am about to tell, we explore the intriguing and often uncomfortable world of accident scenes and the people drawn to them, where the lines between tragedy and attraction blur. The story goes thus: As the flames from the remains of the vehicle filled the air, a crowd began to form on the sidewalk. Some people gathered out of concern, others out of curiosity. A few stood frozen, their eyes fixed on the wrecked vehicle on fire.

On the floor lied my dad who looked physically fine and ignored by the onlookers whose only attention was the vehicle burning and the people inside of it screaming for help. Maria, a nurse on her way home from work, rushed towards the scene to offer assistance. “I saw the whole thing happen,” she said, her voice shaking. “I had to help.” Meanwhile, a group of teenagers snapped photos and videos with their phones. “It’s gonna be all over social media,” one of them exclaimed. An elderly woman, her eyes welling up with tears, muttered a prayer under her breath. “It’s just so tragic,” she said, shaking her head. “Those poor people.” A young professional, sipping on a coffee, gazed at the scene with a mix of fascination and disgust. “I don’t know why I’m staring,” he admitted. “It’s like I can’t look away.” There was no emergency team around but onlookers continued to gather. Some were drawn in by a desire to help, others by a morbid fascination.

Some were moved to prayer, others to social media posts. But all were united in their shared gaze, a reminder of our shared humanity. All attention was brought back to the only survivor when he was about to take his last breath and was rushed to a nearby hospital and offered medical attention where they discovered he had been bleeding internally and lost so much blood. That single thought of taking him down to a hospital saved a soul, the soul of my father! That help rendered has provided a chance for me to still have a father today. Accidents are a rare moment when our private lives intersect with public space. Usually, our personal struggles and tragedies play out behind closed doors, invisible to the outside world. But when an accident occurs, the private becomes public, and we’re drawn to the spectacle like moths to a flame.

We’re drawn to them because they represent a primal fear, a reminder of our own mortality. But we’re also repelled by them, because they confront us with the harsh realities of life. In the end, our fascination with accidents is a reflection of our own humanity – our fears, our vulnerabilities, and our deep-seated desire to connect with others. So, the next time you find yourself at the scene of an accident, remember that you have the power to make a difference. Instead of just rubbernecking, take a moment to do the following: Offer assistance if you’re able; call emergency services if no one else has; provide support and comfort to those affected; and share your own experience and insights to help others.Together, we can create a culture of care and compassion, where accidents are not just spectacles to be gawked at, but opportunities to connect with others and make a positive impact.

The next time you find yourself at the scene of an accident, remember that there are real people involved, with real stories and real struggles. And there’s a real opportunity for you to make a difference. By offering assistance, support and compassion, you can help turn a moment of tragedy into a moment of connection and community. You can help break down the barriers that separate us and build bridges of understanding and empathy. So let’s make a pact to approach accident scenes with kindness, compassion and care. Let’s make a pact to see the humanity in each other, even in the midst of chaos and destruction. Together, we can create a world that’s more compassionate, more empathetic, and more connected.

Olorunfemi is a Mass Communication student of Prince Abubakar Audu University, Kogi State.

By: Favour O. Olorunfemi

Opinion

Time To Celebrate My Teacher

Published

4 days ago

October 6, 2025

The Tide

Quote:” Not everyone gets the chance to say thank you to the teacher who made the difference. Some have moved on. Some have passed on. But their influence lives on in every book written, business started, problem solved, or student mentored by someone they once taught”

Every year on October 5th, the world pauses to honor a group of individuals who shape the future with nothing more than a whiteboard marker, a patient voice, and an unshakeable belief in potential: teachers. World Teachers’ Day is more than just a date on the calendar—it is a reminder of the quiet, powerful influence educators have in shaping lives, societies, and futures. For many, the day evokes memories of classrooms filled with chalk dust, books stacked high, and a steady presence at the front of the room guiding lessons, asking questions, and waiting—always waiting—for that lightbulb moment in a student’s eyes. While every teacher leaves a mark, there’s often one who makes a deeper impression. One who doesn’t just teach but transforms. For me, that teacher was Mrs. Okoro.I met Mrs. Okoro in Junior Secondary School Two.

I remember walking into her English Literature class with the usual mixture of adolescent apathy and anxiety. English had always been a subject I tolerated rather than loved. To me, it was a series of essays, comprehension passages, and exam questions about metaphors and similes that seemed more confusing than meaningful. But Mrs. Okoro didn’t teach English. She lived it. She had a way of stepping into the classroom like a performer stepping onto a stage. Her voice carried energy, her expressions demanded attention, and her passion was infectious. Within weeks, I found myself looking forward to her classes—not because I suddenly loved Shakespeare or Chinua Achebe, but because I saw in her someone who believed in what she was teaching, and more importantly, someone who believed in me. The beauty of an exceptional teacher lies not in how much they know, but in how deeply they care.

Mrs. Okoro had an eye for those students who tried to stay invisible. I was one of them—never the loudest, rarely the top of the class, often unsure of my own voice. But she noticed me. One afternoon, after returning our essays, she held mine up—not to ridicule, but to read it aloud to the class. My heart pounded as she read my words, giving them life and rhythm. When she finished, she looked at me and said, “There’s a writer in you. You just need to let them out.”It was the first time someone outside my family had validated my potential in such a specific, personal way. That one comment, simple as it was, sparked something in me that would never fade. From that moment, I started writing more. I filled journals with stories and poems. I volunteered to read aloud in class. I even entered a school writing competition—and won.

World Teachers’ Day celebrates the efforts of educators around the globe who go beyond teaching curriculum to nurturing character. That was Mrs. Okoro in every sense. She taught us about empathy through literature, helping us connect to characters from different backgrounds, cultures, and histories. She encouraged debate, critical thinking, and respectful disagreement—skills we would come to rely on far beyond the walls of that classroom. She also taught us grace. I remember once when a student mocked another’s reading aloud. Mrs. Okoro stopped the class, not with anger, but with a calm that silenced the room. “We don’t laugh at people trying,” she said. “Trying is where learning begins.” It was a simple statement, but the dignity she afforded every student left a lasting impact. It is often said that teaching is the profession that creates all other professions.

That may sound like a slogan, but it’s true in the most personal of ways. Without teachers like Mrs. Okoro, I might never have found the confidence to write, to speak, or to believe that my ideas mattered. Today, I write professionally. I speak at conferences. I mentor others. But behind every achievement is the echo of a teacher who once said, “There’s a writer in you.” Imagine that: a single sentence, spoken in a secondary school classroom years ago, setting off a chain of events that would define the trajectory of a life. That is the power of teachers. World Teachers’ Day, established by UNESCO in 1994, aims to commemorate the adoption of the 1966 ILO/UNESCO Recommendation concerning the Status of Teachers. It is a day to advocate for the rights and responsibilities of teachers and to appreciate their essential contributions to education and development.

But beyond the global observance, it is also a deeply personal day for many. It is a day to reflect on the individuals who, in their own unique ways, lit the path ahead for us when we couldn’t see it ourselves. Not everyone gets the chance to say thank you to the teacher who made the difference. Some have moved on. Some have passed on. But their influence lives on in every book written, business started, problem solved, or student mentored by someone they once taught. If your teacher is still around, consider writing them a letter, sending them an email, or simply letting them know the role they played in your story. If they’re not, honor them by being the kind of person they believed you could be—and by supporting teachers around you who are trying to do the same for others.

World Teachers’ Day is not just about celebrating teachers in general, but also about recognizing your teacher—the one who changed the way you saw yourself. For me, that teacher was Mrs. Okoro. Her name might not appear in the pages of history books, but in the story of my life, she’s a chapter I will always return to. October 5, may have come and gone, it should continue to remind us of the need to celebrate our teaches, remember their words, share their impacts, and where possible, be that kind of light for someone else.

By: Sylvia ThankGod-Amadi

Opinion

184 Days of the Locust in Rivers State

Published

2 weeks ago

September 29, 2025

The Tide

Quote:”Sadly, what Rivers State experienced during the emergency rule was more than the devastating effects of a plague of locusts. The tragedy is that the “alien” invasion left a developmentally retarded landscape and a psychologically traumatized people in its wake.”

Locusts are infamous for their devastating impact on agriculture and food security, especially when they enter their gregarious phase. At this stage, they form large, migratory swarms and move with rapid speed, covering up to 150 kilometers in a day. As a result, they strike without warning and make early control very difficult. One locust can eat the equivalent of its body weight in plant materials daily. Its diet includes wheat, maize, rice, fruits, vegetables, and even tree leaves. Locust outbreaks can cripple subsistence farming communities and cause damage that could lead to food shortages, economic losses, and humanitarian crises. Adjudged one of nature’s shapeshifters, the locus leaves a devastated landscape in its wake. The declaration of state of emergency in Rivers State from March 18 to September 17, 2025, crippled the otherwise smooth-functioning bureaucratic institutions and many aspects of life in the state.

The first salvo, which heralded the “locust effect” was the appropriation of N30bn to acquire gunboats. Rivers people wondered aloud if their State had a navy or was at war. Again, N22bn was expended on installing a new close circuit television (CCTV) in a Government House that already had an effectively functional CCTV. Regarding this, Kenneth Okonkwo jocularly asked if they are “trying to see the [genitals] of an ant”. That was an anomaly given the fact that the administration was a stopgap measure. Not a few Rivers people questioned the motive behind the installation, in view of the sensitivity of security; this fact remains very worrisome. Like the shape-shifting locust, the Sole Administrator (SOLAD) consistently shifted from the authoritarianism of military demeanor to the multi-tongued man-of-many-words mien of politicians.

Between these two behavioral extremities of the SOLAD, Rivers people groped in the dark and lived in confusion; they ached from the antics of an admix of “a bird of passage” and “soldier of fortune” who responded only to directives from his masters voice from a distant land. Consequently, non-indigenes began making decisions for Rivers State: Bola Tinubu (Lagos State), Godswill Akpabio (Akwa Ibom), Tajudeen Abass (Kaduna State) and Kudirat Kekere-Ekun (Lagos State). The SOLAD’s mindset became akin to that of an imperial officer assigned to milk a colonial outpost. Resultantly, a non-indigene was appointed to the sensitive position of Chairman, Rivers State Electoral Commission; the position of Chief of Staff went to another non-indigene and, and, and. In the end, it was a classical case of two brothers fighting over inheritance and a stranger stealthily steals it.

In line with the “imperial officer” metaphor, the SOLAD arrogantly and audaciously said that he is not accountable to anybody other than President Tinubu. Incidentally and quite tragically, when asked how the days of the plague will affect the people of Rivers State, one of the SOLAD’s masters gutturally bellowed thus: “To hell with them”. To hell with Rivers people?!! Of course, subsequently, salaries were delayed till the 34th or later in the months. As at September 18 when the days of the locust ended, many workers and pensioners were not paid for August thereby extending the month of August beyond 49 days. This was a sad reminder of the grueling yesteryears of agony occasioned by bureaucratic bottlenecks in salary administration, organizational recklessness and systematized insensitivity to the plight of the people.

In what Rivers people viewed as an adventure of “Alibaba and the Forty Thieves”, the Senate of the Federal Republic approved a budget of a whopping N1.48 trillion for an emergency rule of six months. A clear case of anomalous overreach and an outrage given the fact that the suspended governor was vilified for operating a budget approved by a factional section of the house. Even with the humongous budget, projects across the state were abandoned thereby affecting the economy of the state negatively. Meanwhile, Reuben Abati informs that “over N400bn” was spent within the days of the locust. On September 5, the agony of the ignominious experience of going on holiday without salary, a phenomenon that stopped when Fubara ascended the position of Governor of Rivers State, raised its ugly head again and Rivers people celebrated Id el Maulud empty handed. In other words, Rivers people celebrated “Sallah without Salary”.

Soothingly, the Rivers State House of Assembly has expressed the intention of probing the finances of the State during the emergency rule. Whether anything positive will come out of it is another matter. For Abati, “Ibok Ette Ibas must be prepared to give proper account”. Here is a call to duty for civic groups in Rivers State. Sadly, what Rivers State experienced during the emergency rule was more than the devastating effects of a plague of locusts. The tragedy is that the “alien” invasion left a developmentally retarded landscape and a psychologically traumatized people in its wake. Certainly, March 18 to September 17, 2025 has gone down in the history of Rivers State as 184 days of the locust. No wonder Dr. Nnamdi Azikiwe said that “Nigeria’s problem is not the absence of resources, but the presence of too many resourceful thieves”. Again, skeptical of the then novel concept of democracy, Socrates projected that: “thieves and fraudsters will want important government functions, and democracy will give it to them…when they finally democratically take authority…there will be worse dictatorship than in the time of any monarchy or oligarchy”.

It is however, consoling that, following his reinstatement on September 18, Governor Fubara “directed the immediate payment of pensioners August salary”. Regarding this directive, an author asserts that “This swift action underscores Fubara’s commitment to the welfare of employees and ensuring financial accountability in the state”. What there is to take home from the swiftness of this action is that Fubara is not only simple and humble, he harbors a humane heart. Doubtlessly, the “grasses” of Rivers State have been brutalized and traumatized in the supremacy fight between two elephants. The prayer now is that the actors in the ring and those in the wings, including the millions of cheerleaders on both sides of the amphitheater, should sheath their swords.

By: Jason Osai