Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Reading Culture Foundation Blog
Please also visit the Reading Culture Foundation blog, where reading is promoted, nutured and shared.
You can also print out our reading activity sheets for the months of August and September.
Remeber READING is fun!
You can also print out our reading activity sheets for the months of August and September.
Remeber READING is fun!
Death and The Tanker Boy
He's got the same size hands
As Peter Akpatason
He put his fingers in the imprints
And worked on a Petrol Tanker
He could have been a NUPENG President
Never got the chance to go that far
His life was STOLEN
Now we'll never, never, know!
These re-coined words of Kelly Rowland came to my mind when I heard a firsthand narrative of how a young man (a driver's assistant or motor boy in local parlance) died in a tanker of Petrol.
Sometime in early June, Mrs. Ruth Oghenetega a business woman in the West minister area, which is within Ibafon (the area where a lot of tankers load petroleum products) sought me out to tell me this story and pleaded that we include it in our newsletter.
According to her, “this is not the first time I have witnessed such an incident, something needs to be done about this urgently. I believe with adequate training incidences like this can be averted; all he needed to be alive was a companion. I was drawn to the scene when I heard the driver wailing. The driver and his motor-boy were about to load products from a popular tank farm in Ibafon. They were on a queue, so they decided to add some fuel to their engine, the boy was told to get some fuel from their almost empty tanker, so he opened the lid of the tank and jumped into the belly of the tank to scoop some fuel. Unbeknownst to him a heavy wind was brewing, on impact with the lid of the tank, the lid fell shut and he couldn't open it”
Our imagination can fill in the gap of what went on.
“Meanwhile the driver thought the boy had strayed and was waiting for him, it was after a long wait that it dawned on him to check within the belly of the tanker, lo and behold he met a dead boy, very dead!”
Apparently the boy died of 'aspiration'. Aspiration is the entry of liquid into the lungs following swallowing and subsequent vomiting. Fuel is classified as 'Harmful by ingestion' owing to this aspiration hazard i.e. the risk of chemical pneumonitis, and not because of its acute toxicity i.e. poisoning properties. Fuel is also classified as a skin irritant, due to its potential to cause dermatitis. The presence of up to 5% benzene means that fuel is classified as Carcinogenic.
Under COSHH 1999 a suitable and sufficient risk assessment is required for all jobs carried out involving fuel. This may involve emergency procedures (spillages or accidental ingestion), protective clothing to prevent skin contact and precautions to control exposure by inhalation.
General Safety
Where fuel might be used an assessment needs to be carried out on the risks involved to ensure that adequate control measures are taken. Leaflets giving advice on fuel safety should be made available, covering safe storage, carriage and use.
Addressing the Situation
Recently Total Nigeria Plc unveiled plans to build a state-of-the-art training centre for petroleum tanker drivers in their bid to instill road safety culture in Nigerian drivers; I hope that safety measures will also be a key subject in the proposed centre.
Other marketers of petroleum products should also take a keen interest in ensuring that their employees are well educated about the hazards of the job.
If you take a look at the critical elements in petroleum products transportation, that is, the drivers, products and the trucks, you will see that the insurance scheme can cover the tanker, product, but usually does not cover life. However, a life lost can never be regained.
As Peter Akpatason
He put his fingers in the imprints
And worked on a Petrol Tanker
He could have been a NUPENG President
Never got the chance to go that far
His life was STOLEN
Now we'll never, never, know!
These re-coined words of Kelly Rowland came to my mind when I heard a firsthand narrative of how a young man (a driver's assistant or motor boy in local parlance) died in a tanker of Petrol.
Sometime in early June, Mrs. Ruth Oghenetega a business woman in the West minister area, which is within Ibafon (the area where a lot of tankers load petroleum products) sought me out to tell me this story and pleaded that we include it in our newsletter.
According to her, “this is not the first time I have witnessed such an incident, something needs to be done about this urgently. I believe with adequate training incidences like this can be averted; all he needed to be alive was a companion. I was drawn to the scene when I heard the driver wailing. The driver and his motor-boy were about to load products from a popular tank farm in Ibafon. They were on a queue, so they decided to add some fuel to their engine, the boy was told to get some fuel from their almost empty tanker, so he opened the lid of the tank and jumped into the belly of the tank to scoop some fuel. Unbeknownst to him a heavy wind was brewing, on impact with the lid of the tank, the lid fell shut and he couldn't open it”
Our imagination can fill in the gap of what went on.
“Meanwhile the driver thought the boy had strayed and was waiting for him, it was after a long wait that it dawned on him to check within the belly of the tanker, lo and behold he met a dead boy, very dead!”
Apparently the boy died of 'aspiration'. Aspiration is the entry of liquid into the lungs following swallowing and subsequent vomiting. Fuel is classified as 'Harmful by ingestion' owing to this aspiration hazard i.e. the risk of chemical pneumonitis, and not because of its acute toxicity i.e. poisoning properties. Fuel is also classified as a skin irritant, due to its potential to cause dermatitis. The presence of up to 5% benzene means that fuel is classified as Carcinogenic.
Under COSHH 1999 a suitable and sufficient risk assessment is required for all jobs carried out involving fuel. This may involve emergency procedures (spillages or accidental ingestion), protective clothing to prevent skin contact and precautions to control exposure by inhalation.
General Safety
Where fuel might be used an assessment needs to be carried out on the risks involved to ensure that adequate control measures are taken. Leaflets giving advice on fuel safety should be made available, covering safe storage, carriage and use.
Addressing the Situation
Recently Total Nigeria Plc unveiled plans to build a state-of-the-art training centre for petroleum tanker drivers in their bid to instill road safety culture in Nigerian drivers; I hope that safety measures will also be a key subject in the proposed centre.
Other marketers of petroleum products should also take a keen interest in ensuring that their employees are well educated about the hazards of the job.
If you take a look at the critical elements in petroleum products transportation, that is, the drivers, products and the trucks, you will see that the insurance scheme can cover the tanker, product, but usually does not cover life. However, a life lost can never be regained.
Monday, August 16, 2010
IT LIVES HERE TOO...
I noticed it was living in our next door neighbour’s house before I realized it also lived in our very own house.
Even though I knew of its existence, it still came as a shock to me one evening while in Yetunde’s house; when it reared its ugly head in Yetunde’s father and I began to take a second look.
“Look, look Alade I have told you repeatedly that I do not want anything to do with any tenant that is not Yoruba, period.”
“But Sir, Itsekiri’s are like Yoruba’s.” Alade explained.
“Maybe you still don’t understand me; I may have to employ someone who does.”
Alade was Yetunde’s father’s caretaker; he took care of all Mr. Mayowa Adegun’s properties scattered across the metropolis of Lagos.
I looked myself over as my name was Oluchi it meant I was not eligible for Mr. Adegun’s house, I had to be a Yetunde or someone from Yoruba land.
I am bi-tribal (my personal coinage for a person from two tribes), my dad is Ibo from Delta State and my mum is Urhobo also from Delta State, so maybe even my bi-tribalism made me most ineligible for Mr. Adegun’s house, pure breeds or mono-tribal candidates might stand a better chance of clinching an apartment in his house.
After Mr. Adegun’s utterance the chair I sat in began to burn a hole in my skirt and I couldn’t take the heat so I got up and started for my house.
“Goodnight Sirs.” I greeted Mr. Adegun and Alade, while I beckoned on my friend Yetunde, to see me off.
“Goodnight, Oluchi my daughter, please greet my friend for me and remind him about our game of tennis tomorrow afternoon.”
“Okay Sir.” I muttered and tugged at Yetunde’s arm for her to lead the way, the Adegun’s had all types of dogs from Alsatians to German Shepherds, and I was not an avid fan of guard dogs.
Yetunde saw me off to our usual spot- my gate, as the lock on my gate clicked my thoughts went back to Mr. Adegun.
“He calls me ‘my daughter’ and in the same vein is averse to people from my tribe living in his house, sounds like insincerity to me.” I muttered.
My dad was seated outside on his lounge chair pretending to be asleep, if I passed by without greeting him, he would snarl out a ‘where are you coming from?’, so I greeted, “Daddy good evening, Yetunde’s dad said I should remind you about your game of tennis tomorrow afternoon.”
“O.K.” he grunted.
In our living room my mum was glued to a movie on Africa Magic with my Sister her co-critic of Nollywood by her side.
“Mummy, good evening. Mummy see what happened at …” , I made to tell of my experience at the Adegun’s house.
“Silence, let me hear what Ramsey wants to tell this girl. All this lying Casanovas, you and Amarachi had better open your eyes and watch this film.” She said while gesticulating with her hands.
I smiled to myself as I slinked away and Amarachi winked at me, we had concluded that our mum felt she had to justify why she deprived our dad of watching CNN; we were her sole concern, we had to see reality and only Nollywood could do this for us.
When I got to my bed the thoughts kept niggling at me; I had heard of tribalism, sure, but racism was big deal never tribalism so how come Yetunde’s father was averse to ‘us’. My parents were from different tribes and they loved each other, they had clearly scaled the tribal barrier or had they? This I was soon to find out. I nodded off to sleep with thoughts of a mono-tribal country in my head.
Even though I knew of its existence, it still came as a shock to me one evening while in Yetunde’s house; when it reared its ugly head in Yetunde’s father and I began to take a second look.
“Look, look Alade I have told you repeatedly that I do not want anything to do with any tenant that is not Yoruba, period.”
“But Sir, Itsekiri’s are like Yoruba’s.” Alade explained.
“Maybe you still don’t understand me; I may have to employ someone who does.”
Alade was Yetunde’s father’s caretaker; he took care of all Mr. Mayowa Adegun’s properties scattered across the metropolis of Lagos.
I looked myself over as my name was Oluchi it meant I was not eligible for Mr. Adegun’s house, I had to be a Yetunde or someone from Yoruba land.
I am bi-tribal (my personal coinage for a person from two tribes), my dad is Ibo from Delta State and my mum is Urhobo also from Delta State, so maybe even my bi-tribalism made me most ineligible for Mr. Adegun’s house, pure breeds or mono-tribal candidates might stand a better chance of clinching an apartment in his house.
After Mr. Adegun’s utterance the chair I sat in began to burn a hole in my skirt and I couldn’t take the heat so I got up and started for my house.
“Goodnight Sirs.” I greeted Mr. Adegun and Alade, while I beckoned on my friend Yetunde, to see me off.
“Goodnight, Oluchi my daughter, please greet my friend for me and remind him about our game of tennis tomorrow afternoon.”
“Okay Sir.” I muttered and tugged at Yetunde’s arm for her to lead the way, the Adegun’s had all types of dogs from Alsatians to German Shepherds, and I was not an avid fan of guard dogs.
Yetunde saw me off to our usual spot- my gate, as the lock on my gate clicked my thoughts went back to Mr. Adegun.
“He calls me ‘my daughter’ and in the same vein is averse to people from my tribe living in his house, sounds like insincerity to me.” I muttered.
My dad was seated outside on his lounge chair pretending to be asleep, if I passed by without greeting him, he would snarl out a ‘where are you coming from?’, so I greeted, “Daddy good evening, Yetunde’s dad said I should remind you about your game of tennis tomorrow afternoon.”
“O.K.” he grunted.
In our living room my mum was glued to a movie on Africa Magic with my Sister her co-critic of Nollywood by her side.
“Mummy, good evening. Mummy see what happened at …” , I made to tell of my experience at the Adegun’s house.
“Silence, let me hear what Ramsey wants to tell this girl. All this lying Casanovas, you and Amarachi had better open your eyes and watch this film.” She said while gesticulating with her hands.
I smiled to myself as I slinked away and Amarachi winked at me, we had concluded that our mum felt she had to justify why she deprived our dad of watching CNN; we were her sole concern, we had to see reality and only Nollywood could do this for us.
When I got to my bed the thoughts kept niggling at me; I had heard of tribalism, sure, but racism was big deal never tribalism so how come Yetunde’s father was averse to ‘us’. My parents were from different tribes and they loved each other, they had clearly scaled the tribal barrier or had they? This I was soon to find out. I nodded off to sleep with thoughts of a mono-tribal country in my head.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Blogging Again
I started this blog in September of 2009, with the intention to blog, this i did not do. Since that time, my life has progressed tremendously but my writing has stood -still.
The masters got to where they are by honing their craft, regurlarly not whenever they feel like it- which i have been guilty of.
Now to the gist of the day, i am working on a 750 word plot for a novel as an assignment for my creative writing course. I actually am done with it, but i am still tweaking and re-tweaking, my tutor feels i am too fast with my assignments, he advises me to submit my assignments to publishers.
I have told him, Nigeria has few publishers, our publishing houses are more of vanity press or even printers. My next blog will look out how many mainstream magazines we have in Nigeria, i can almost count them on my fingertips on one hand, but that's for tomorrow.
Will commence updating my blog from now on, and honing my craft, no more procastinating, no more losing focus, i will get 'it' written!
The masters got to where they are by honing their craft, regurlarly not whenever they feel like it- which i have been guilty of.
Now to the gist of the day, i am working on a 750 word plot for a novel as an assignment for my creative writing course. I actually am done with it, but i am still tweaking and re-tweaking, my tutor feels i am too fast with my assignments, he advises me to submit my assignments to publishers.
I have told him, Nigeria has few publishers, our publishing houses are more of vanity press or even printers. My next blog will look out how many mainstream magazines we have in Nigeria, i can almost count them on my fingertips on one hand, but that's for tomorrow.
Will commence updating my blog from now on, and honing my craft, no more procastinating, no more losing focus, i will get 'it' written!
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