about the blogger

AYOMIDE ABIONA is a rural dweller in Nigeria; a civic leader, an entrepreneur, a book author and a constructive writer of several articles. <br> This blogsite is meant to serve as a medium to reach out to populace that have urge to get update on some of his works and his civic responsilibilites activities analysis, developmental issues and sustainability and news across the world.

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7 Medical Doctors died along Abuja-Kaduna Road

#NMA-Ekiti-7: Dr. Dele Atiba gives a life account after surviving a ghastly motor accident that took the lives of 7 members of Nigerian Medical Association (NMA) Ekiti Branch. This date (24/04/2016) has stuck to my memory like it’s super glued to my frontal lobe since last year. It was a Black Sunday! Many lives were lost. Dreams cut short. Aspirations thwarted. Children became orphans and wives turn to widows. I dont think there is nothing that can erase it as long as I live. As a survivor, scars of bodily injuries abound, emotional trauma lingers and psychological trauma persists. The Ekiti Branch of the Nigerian Medical Association (NMA) delegates to the Annual Delegates Meeting of 2016 in Sokoto had a ghastly motor accident along Abuja-Kaduna road at about 4:30pm in the afternoon. Thirteen lives 12 doctors and their driver wee in the bus. The rear tyre got burst, the bus somersaulted severally, and some were thrown out of the vehicle six died o...

Never to be an Almajiri again.

Life as an almajiri in Kano was very tough. I could still remember how we went about in tens begging for alms and food. It’s really not a life anyone should live. I lived it years ago and could still tell exactly how it hurts; the memory of it and the hellish experiences we had to bear. Almajiri life isn’t a life. It’s like being dead alive. I lived that life. I was ten when I decided to remove the cloak of destitution and face life squarely. It still remains the turning point in my life and the wisest decision I’d ever taken. I could still remember vividly what led me to take such a decision one afternoon. It was at Sabon Titi Kano. We were nine in number. We had trekked all the way from Bida Road. Ali, my best friend was saying something about how very unfair it was that girls were not allowed to wander about begging as boys did. He said something about girls being lucky and fortunate because they were not subjected to the demeaning life that we lived. “But you don’t have ...

ILORIN: THE MUALIMAH IN A MARKET DANCE

If there’s one thing I hate writing about it is an opinion on Ilorin, my fatherland. It gives me no joy having to wield the hammer I called a pen and land it hardly on the baldhead of my homeland. If I were to describe how I felt each time I wrote an opinion on any incidence regarding this land, no time, I say none, and no time did I felt good. And the reasons are not farfetched; I am always torn in between emotions and saying the naked truth. It had never been lost on me that family, no matter what, is family. However, it seems I am alone on that, maybe I am not. But the odds seem small. The thinking ones, specifically among the youth, are not much. The recent actions and inactions, reports and incidences of immortality and irresponsibility by some sons and daughters of the Emirate clearly affirm my earlier stance. And this time, neither for emotions or fear of misunderstanding would I be garbing irresponsibility with the robe of nobility or be dressing a clear, crestfallen value...

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