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Photos: Gbolahan Salami gets Rashidi Yekini's last pair of boots

Warri Wolves forward, Gbolahan Salami has become the first recipient of the maiden Rashidi Yekini Highest Goal Scorer Award. He was honoured by the Rasidi Yekini Foundation in Ibadan today for emerging the top scorer of of the Nigeria Professional Football Leaugue with his club this season.
“Thanks so much all my fans, thanks to the Rashidi Yekini foundation for this award, thanks to all Warri Wolves players and fans that made it possible. It’s an honour to win this award for the fans.” The Nigerian player said.
The ex Shooting Star forward who netted 17 goals also got a cash prize of N100,000 and the last pair of boots used by the late Rashidi Yekini. The late iconic footballer remains all-time highest goal scorer for Nigeria Senior National Team.

Sugabelly, rape and Audu’s sons | By: Reuben Abati

You probably don’t know Sugabelly. I don’t know her either. But it is the twitter handle of a Nigerian lady: @sugabelly, who in the wake of the death of former Governor Abubakar Audu of Kogi State felt the urge to go public with her story. My foregrounding her/story as opposed to his/story is further affirmation of an earlier submission that Audu’s death is “inconclusive”.

As the rest of Nigeria mourned the death of Abubakar Audu and pondered the implications of an inconclusive electoral process, Sugabelly showed up on social media and started celebrating his death. Her message was that the death of the man was good riddance to bad rubbish. “I feel so amazing”, she wrote. “Like God actually answered my prayers… That’s usually how it is.

Powerful people rarely remember the people whose lives they destroy.” She alleged that Audu’s sons once gang-raped her-seven of them, when she was an impressionable 17-year old and that Governor Audu used his position as a big man to rubbish her, slammed her with a $2 million libel suit, denied her from getting justice, with his lawyers insisting that “14 years” is the age of consent under the Penal Code in the FCT, and so there is no case.

For eight years, her life, she says, has been a nightmare including contemplation’s of suicide and spells of manic depression. Her frustration is well articulated in her twitter handle and an extended commentary titled “Surviving Mustapha Audu and His Rape Brigade”.
I have heard people proclaim loudly that a traditional proverb says: “the witch cried last night and the child died in the morning” and they have been wondering whether there was some kind of extra-terrestrial, meta-physical animus which led to Audu’s sudden death.

Howbeit, Sugabelly’s allegation is that of unlawful carnal knowledge. Her protestation made the rounds for a few days largely uncelebrated, but it caught fire last Friday. For days, rape was the subject of discussion on Nigerian twitter. Opinion was divided with some calling Sugabelly, “a whore” and a badly brought up child but soon, the weight tilted heavily in her favour as the reactions panned out to focus on the menace of sexual assault against women and the devastating effect on persons, families, the victims and society.

One of the sons of Abubakar Audu was soon fingered as the leader of the rape brigade -by both Sugabelly and her staunchest supporter, @Echecrates. What happened subsequently is better experienced. A lady tweeting as Zahra – @oakleafbycg – jumped into the fray to defend him – hers was quite a spirited fight that lasted for hours, defending the integrity of her husband. She probably was defending herself too.

Her father-in-law was so close to being governor and he lost it, only for some twitter activists, and a sugabelly (what a name! by the way) to start suggesting that her husband has a rape case to answer. She is a good woman, isn’t she? I monitored the conversations, and it is difficult to conclude that anyone was successfully convicted for there were persons who raised questions about sugabelly’s identity, her motives and whether she is not just a spoiler, playing a sponsored political game.
The emergent consensus, however, focused on the menace of rape in our society. Some male commentators seeking to genderize the discussion also pointed out that they were once raped, too, but the pervasive impression was that young girls are more often the victims. I noted that there was very little talk about marital rape, which is ordinarily a major issue in the West, but which will be considered absurd by Africans.
There were some suggestions about rapists being put to death in line with the still untested Violence Against Persons Act, but as is the case with twitter, 140-word interventions do not necessarily an honest thinker or an intellectual make. It creates an illusion though, the illusion that someone whose reasoning is below 140 words is a mega-man of knowledge and insights.
Nonetheless, the matter between sugabelly and the Audu sons deserves a little more probing. I am tempted to commend sugabelly for throwing up the subject, but the real problem with rape in our society lies in the inadequacy of both legal and social responses. Both the law and the society stigmatise rape, and wrong-foot the victim. The relevant sections of the law in Nigeria today more or less ridicule the victim, and usually, the victim is female.

The biggest challenge for decades has been this manner in which the law humiliates the female victim: the procedure requires examination by a medical doctor and in open court, proving actual penetration up to the labia majora. That is a tough call for victims and families, and so, many cases end up unreported. Besides, the criminal justice system peopled by phallocentric officials is wont to dismiss any woman reporting rape: in Nigeria, it would be ridiculous indeed for a married woman or a girlfriend to report being raped by her husband or fiancée. From the policeman at the station to the presiding judge, if it gets to that stage, the case may die a natural death in the vortex of misogyny.
Culture is a major barrier: the search for virgins at the bridal chamber by African families is a long dead custom, but few families can stand the stigma of taking as wife, a woman who has been raped, and whose indignity has been broadcast.

Female victims are, therefore, reluctant to seek legal redress, first because of social stigma, and that is why there are very few convictions despite the regular incidence of rape. Any woman that is labeled a rape victim stands the risk of not getting a husband: families of prospective suitors will latch on to that evidence as if it is a mark of leprosy, and urge their sons to steer clear, creating for the woman’s family an undeserved dilemma. Despite the wave of modernity in our land, tradition remains resilient and marriage, going to a man’s house, is still, quite sadly, considered a woman’s ultimate achievement.

This is probably why, in due course, the accused also showed up in the conversation releasing e-mail exchanges between him and Sugabelly, and going as far as revealing her true identity and painting her as a “whore,” a liar and an opportunist. Parents, keep an eye on your sons and daughters! The family, the most important social unit, has a role to play.

Both male and female children should be brought up to respect ethical values and the rights of other human beings to dignity. The inferiorisation of the female gender often begins in the home, and there are too many cultural paradigms sustaining an objectionable model of parenting, which must change. Too many parents, too busy trying to make survival possible, have abdicated responsibility and it is society that is hurt as a result.
The solution also lies in legal reform: the laws on rape must become more progressive and enlightened. The statutes have been in urgent need of review for long; they must provide the necessary deterrence and not ridicule the victim; even the Violence Against Persons Act (2015) does not fully correct the mischief in the Criminal and Penal Codes.
There is also a trend now that must be addressed; namely, the objectification of women for profit or other purposes. The most recent illustration I find is the battle being waged on twitter and instagram by @blossomnnodim, who has since changed to @blossomozurumba (good luck to the man who is responsible for this blossoming), as she takes on a TBWA power charger advert, which instead of promoting the subject focuses on a woman’s biological gifts.

Blossom objects to this but she has since been accused of witch-hunting and idleness. Her critics miss the point. The objectification of women in popular culture erodes the dignity of women. But the worse of it all is that women themselves promote this negative effect. Nigeria has been lucky in locking into global trends on all fronts, but in a global village, we have not been successful in retaining local standards as a bulwark against negative, imperial cultural influences.

Social media, for example, is dominated by images of sexual libertinism; even our young ladies who are now role models on the basis of concrete accomplishments help to foster this image. I am making this point delicately; my concern is that we have too many Nigerian female role models who are busy trying to be like Amber Rose, Nicki Minaj, Rihanna, Kim Kardashian, Kylie Jenner, Rita Ora, Miles Cyrus, Blac Chyna – if you know what I mean, all those foreign cultural icons whose lifestyles commodify women.

Our own equivalents are all over social media: pretty girls who are perpetually showing cleavages, wearing body tights that accentuate curves, some even boast that they won’t wear bras and pants and that illicit sex is cool: that is how this self-denigration has grown all the way down, creating a sexual tension even among the uneducated wannabes. I am not victimizing the victim, knowing full well that there is that human rights border of freedom of choice and expression; still, new cultural realities should command certain limits.

Sugabelly may not get the sugar of contentment that she seeks, but let her be consoled that she has ignited a debate that may shed more light on the dilemma of rape, and/or sex with a minor (Penal Code or not), and the sad manner in which our society continues to produce children and adults who behave badly. Let us also hope that sooner or later, the sleeping Abubakar Audu will be allowed to lie, by his sons and the girl they allegedly raped.

It is not Audu that is on trial, it is his sons: sons of big men who go overboard with their life of privilege, and of course, Sugabelly- the overtly impressionable young girl- who are all still alive to be called to account, if not in regular court, but now, in the court of public opinion.

Jamie Vardy gets Guinness World Record certificate

Leicester City forward, Jamie Vardy has also been presented with a Guinness World Records certificate for his record goal-scoring run. Recall that Robert Lewandowski picked 4 certificates few days back.

The 28 year-old was honoured for the most goals in one season. He had an 11-game record goal-scoring haul in the Premier League. beating a record previously set by former Manchester United striker Ruud van Nistelrooy

 “I’m delighted to have broken the record, but the most important thing is that the team is getting positive results. I’ve managed to get on the end of things, but it’s my teammates that have got me into the positions and all of our hard work that is making the difference. The record is a nice thing to have, but I don’t mind who is scoring the goals, as long as we keep picking up points in every time we go on the pitch.”  He said after receiving the title.

 

The full list of games Vardy scored in:

29 August: Bournemouth 1-1 Leicester
13 September: Leicester 3-2 Aston Villa
19 September: Stoke 2-2 Leicester
26 September: Leicester 2-5 Arsenal
3 October: Norwich 1-2 Leicester
17 October: Southampton 2-2 Leicester
24 October: Leicester 1-0 Crystal Palace
31 October: West Brom 2-3 Leicester
7 November: Leicester 2-1 Watford
21 November: Newcastle 0-3 Leicester
28 November: Leicester City 1-1 Manchester United

Stella Damasus pays tribute to late husband

Nollywood actress, Stella Damasus has paid another tribute to her late husband, Jaiye Aboderin who died eleven years ago while playing basketball. He was aged 33.
“Even though it has been 11 years since we lost you, we can never forget the impact you had in our lives. The knowledge we all got from you is still helping and encouraging us till date. We love you but God loves you more. Rest in peace JAIYEJEJE” She wrote on instagram. 

Short Story: Pristine | By: Morountodun (Series)

                                                                
The shrill whistling and strong loud voices woke Dara up. For a moment, she wondered where she was, then she checked the time on her mobile phone and sat up on the bed as she remembered.
It was 4am. The room was crowded with about thirty rumpled bunk beds, half-open luggages and brightly coloured buckets of water. Half-dressed girls scampered all around the little available space as the soldiers backed orders outside. Still tired from the 18-hour trip of the day before, Dara reluctantly climbed down from the top bunk and reached for her bucket under the lower bunk.
“Wetin do this one? You no hear say na time for parade? You wan make I pour you water?!”
Dara looked up at the very tall, muscular female soldier standing before her and explained, “Yeah, I want to go and fetch my bathwater.”
The soldier stared back at her disbelievingly, like Dara couldn’t have said what she had, then she shouted, “E be like say you dey mad! Na me go wake you up to do your documentation? You no know say you suppose don ready for parade? If you sabi wetin good for you, make you leave this room now before open my eyes! Otondo!”
Dara grabbed her waist purse under her pillow and quickly joined the other girls excitedly flying out of the room as the soldiers had started spraying water.
The parade ground was a large, open field towards the camp gate (semicolon) bare, but for some sparse, dry grasses. And it was a cold November morning—dawn, rather. Dara had been well-informed about the harsh weather conditions and had gone to camp prepared, but surely the soldier would have slapped the otondo—whatever it meant—out of her had she waited a second longer in the hostel, searching her box for one of the jars of Robb her mum had kindly gifted her with before she left home. 
‘Kindly’ because Mrs Adegbite had not been in support of her only daughter going up north alone in the name of National Youth Service Corps (NYSC), a 1-year program in Nigeria designed by the government in 1973 to help tertiary institution graduates appreciate other ethnic groups and learn the culture of the places they were posted to. The North was too full of insecurities, with the recent attacks by the Islamic militants, Boko Haram.
“But mum, Gombe is one of the most peaceful States. I have read all about the place. We should be grateful I wasn’t posted to Borno,” Dara had reassured her the night before she travelled.
“Okay o. Maybe those animals are going to send you a personal letter when they are moving there,” her mum had retorted, still pissed that her own cousin, an NYSC official had failed at ‘working’ Dara’s posting to nearby Ogun State, or at least somewhere no one would have to worry about bombings and killings.
Dara’s dad, the calmer parent, had smiled and told his wife at the dining table that night, “My dear, don’t be so worried. The camp will be sufficiently secured, and Dara only has to be there for just three weeks. She’s redeploying after camp, I’ll see to that.”
Only Gideon and Dan knew about her excitement at the adventure of being far away from home for the first time, and Dara had exchanged knowing glances with them. Their mum would have a fit if she found out. She had a known phobia for letting her kids out of her sight. Dara often wondered if it was because of how late in her marriage it had taken to start having them. Family and friends were welcome in their home for as long as they wanted to stay, as long as she didn’t have to worry about her own children being away. And usually, Gideon would be the rebel, the one strong enough to dare heir mother, being the first child. But even he had served in Oyo, just two hours away from home, like she had wanted.
“Good morning this morning! Gentlemen corps members, I want to once again welcome you to Mallam Sidi camp. This is Gombe State, the jewel in the savannah, and I have no doubt that your stay here will be a good one,” the camp commandant was saying in a calm tone while Dara shivered uncontrollably.
He continued, “However, many of you are horribly dressed for parade this morning. I want to let you know that this is the last time such will be tolerated. Henceforth, on this camp, you shall all be dressed in your white t-shirts and shorts, with appropriate footwear. You were all given your kits upon arrival yesterday, so there shall be no excuses. Is that understood?”
“Yessir!” the corpers chorused groggily, all lined up in 3s.
“Na dis one even bad pass. Otondo.” Another soldier, male this time, said in a loud whisper, roughly nudging Dara forward from where she was trying to hide. It was no longer as dark and people close by could see. As they giggled, Dara developed a sudden hatred for her favourite pair of pink Hello Kitty pyjamas and matching flip flops.
“Oga Jimoh, na my friend be dat o, make you leave am.” The female soldier appeared from nowhere, a hand holding her gun to her side. She told Dara, eyes wide for enphasis, “I just dey pray make God help you make I find you for hostel wey you never ready again. Na then you go know wetin dey. I don mark you!”
The corpers, all numbering close to a thousand, both male and female, were grouped into ten platoons, and an NYSC official a man-o-war officer and a platoon commandant with an assisting soldier assigned to each group. Dara cringed when platoon 8 commandant was called and it was once again, the female soldier walking towards her with a smirk.
“She’s not the only female soldier on camp, but she’s taller than most of the men, and strong too! It’s terrifying. I just pray I don’t get into any more trouble with her,” Dara gisted her brothers over the phone as she walked back to the hostel.
“Just be careful. Those soldiers can be very mean,” Gideon told her from experience. 
“I used to sleep in my whites at nights so all I had to do was brush my teeth before parade in the morning and bathe later.”
Dan, who didn’t take anything seriously and the youngest of them, said cheerfully, “If she’s picking on you so much, sis, maybe she likes you. You know how I like to talk to you too when I know you’re not in the mood. It’s all love.”
Dara laughed, and realized she missed home at that moment. It was only the first day and she wondered what a whole year would feel like.
“Changed your mind about redeploying yet?” Gideon asked quietly.
“I can’t say yet,” she answered.
Same redeployment talk was going on in the hostel. Some people had gone to the kitchen to queue for breakfast, others were taking pictures of their first day in the all-white camp uniform outside, but most of those in the room were involved in the discussion, “The North isn’t all bad, at least some of us live here,” a smiley-faced hijabian sister was saying as Dara entered the room.    
“It’s easy for you to say because you’re Muslim,” another girl said. “Christians here live in perpetual fear, anything can happen at any time. I even managed to come in the first place, there’s no way I’m staying back after camp.”
“Abi o. let only the Muslims remain in their North before they kill us all,” Dara’s bunkie, an obvious ‘SU’ with virgin, rubber-threaded hair and no earrings added. Dara frowned as she bent down to bring out her whites from the box.
“Their North? I hope you know that not all Northerners are Muslims. I am from Kaduna South, and several other States as well have indigenes that are Christians, like in Biliri Local Government Area of Gombe and many other places. So get your facts right before you say Muslims own the North, ‘cause they don’t. No religion does, the people in it do.” That was from a dark girl who spoke in a distinct Hausa accent at a far corner.
Dara’s bunkie replied, “Alright. My point is still that Muslims are violent. They kill at any little opportunity in the name of religion. You will never see a Christian acting like that and it’s because we know that we serve a living God who fights His own battles.”
The room erupted into angry, offensive words being hurled at one another, and Dara’s first instinct was to leave the room, just in case a fight broke out. Wasn’t it how religious wars started?
She had slipped out of her pyjamas and now had her towel wrapped around her chest, but instead of running off to the bathroom, Dara chose to express her opinion, just in case her silence meant approval of her bunkie’s choice of words. “I don’t think Muslims are bad and Christians are good.” She paused to be sure she had some people’s attention and continued, “However, I do believe there are good people and bad people, regardless of their religion. I have seen terrible behaviour from supposed Christians and I have met really nice Muslims. In fact, I live in Ilorin, a town where both religions co-exist in peace and harmony. And I find it disheartening that this argument is even happening.”
Everyone was quiet now, and the hijabian sister that was smiling before said, looking pained, “Honestly, it’s high time Christians stopped playing the victims. Yes, there are some people hiding under Islam to perpetrate their evil acts, but we aren’t all terrorists and it hurts so much that the religion we hold so dear has become so despicable. It’s sad that we live in a country where everyone looks for who to blame instead of finding solutions to our problems. And if you all must know, I’ve lost two family members to the Boko Haram attacks and they were Muslims like me!”
Dara didn’t bother to get breakfast from the kitchen that morning, the akamu they served was in no way inviting. Thankfully, she had brought two boxes of cornflakes from home, so she launched the first.
Although most of the other girls had taken off their whites to relax in the hostel, Dara dressed up for afternoon parade immediately after having her bath. She’d rather risk spilling milk on her t-shirt than go through another round of humiliation from the soldiers. 
She had just finished her cereal when the girl at the lower bunk opposite her said, “Hey, I want to charge my phone.”
There was only one socket between them and Dara’s phone was plugged in, so she asked the girl, “Do you have an adaptor or extension box?”
“No. But you’ve been charging since,” she replied scornfully.
“It’s barely been thirty minutes,” Dara stated.
“I think I brought an extension, Taiwo, check my box,” the girl’s bunkie said from the top.
Taiwo found it, wordlessly motioned to Dara to unplug her charger, then fixed the extension and plugged in her phone before leaving the room.
“Such a drama queen,” the other girl chuckled as Dara bent to fix her charger. “Don’t mind her. I’m Kenny,” she said with a smile.
Dara asked, not quite sure, “You guys are twins?”
Kenny laughed and nodded. “It’s hard to believe at first, I know.”
“Wow,” Dara said, truly amazed. It was indeed hard to believe. Not only did Kenny seem nicer, she looked different…bigger, taller, like she had been at the better receiving end of their mother’s placenta. The strange thought amused Dara and she replied Kenny with a smile, “I’m Dara. It’s nice to meet you.”
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Morountodun is a writer and a microbiology ‎ graduate of University of Ilorin.
Twitter: @Morountosweet
http://morountosweet.wordpress.com
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Are you a writer? Interested in sharing ‎your short stories on this
platform? Be‎ our guest on our Short Story Fridays segment. Email: ololade.olatunji@yahoo/ gmail.com

Leaked Messages: Rapper, 2shotz's wife accuses him of battery and domestic violence

Well, these allegations were brought against him by his ex girlfriend and Big Brother Africa star Beverley Osu 2 years ago, they were vehemently denied by the couple. Precious, the wife of Nigerian rapper, William Onuoha has opened up on being physically and emotionally abused by the Singer. Her account was conveyed in a series of texts she sent to a friend.

Sextape Scandal: Karim Benzema finally lifts the lid

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Real Madrid striker, Karim Benzema has
claimed he is not guilty in the sex-tape scandal involving him and his
teammate, Mathieu Valbuena. The France international was charged with
conspiracy to blackmail Valbuena, over a sex tape, last month. But the Frenchman
has insisted he was only try to help his friend.
He told TF1, “Sincerely, I am not guilty. I’m
being dragged through the mud and treated like a criminal. What happened? It is
simple. I have heard there is a video of him [Valbuena] and I have told him. I
told him I could help him because I have a friend in Lyon who can manage these
problems.
“I told him that if he had told his family
already, he could let this go. I told him I have experienced these sort of
things in the past.

“We never spoke about money. I earn a good living and when I help someone, I
don’t expect anything back.
“Valbuena thanked me the day I told him.
What I do regret though, is this conversation with [my friend Karim] Zenati. I
regret it because we laughed. I think it was understandable. It was
spontaneous. I would have liked to be able to get in contact with Valbuena to
apologise.
“I don’t know the people that blackmailed
him. The only one I know is Karim Zenati. He had his past and went to prison,
but he started a new life since.
“I don’t even understand why I have been in
custody and why they dirtied my name when I was the one who wanted to be heard.
I don’t understand.”

Bobbi Kristina Brown is Yahoo's most searched term in 2015

The late Bobbi Kristina Brown, the daughter of American songstress, Whitney Houston has emerged the most searched term on Yahoo for year 2015. The reason isn’t far-fetched. Her death sent shock-waves into the spines of millions of people in the world. Coming right after Bobbi is iPhone, on the third and fourth spots are Caitlyn Jenner and Kendell Jenner. Others include Jennifer Aniston, Kim Kardashian etc.

Nigeria's first goalkeeper dies at 90

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Sam Ibiam Henshaw, Nigeria’s first-ever national team ‘UK Tourists’ goalkeeper has died.
The Black magnet as fondly called conceded just 5 goals between 1949-1958 as Nigeria skipper. He passed on in Umuahia,Abia State yesterday.

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May his soul find repose.

Grieving mother narrates how her daughter was murdered in an Indian hospital


The prayer of every mother is to train her child and in turn the child trains her when she’s old. That was not to be my case as I watched my little Chineye who had just graduated a month ago dies in my arms owing to the negligence and wickedness of the Indian doctors of Fortis Hospital, New Delhi, India. Chineye had just graduated from University of Abuja and was preparing for her NYSC but the family had decided that rather than just sit at home before her NYSC call-up, its best she corrects her right limb which was severely shortened after a fall in 2001.

Following the fall in which she broke her femur (thigh bone) she had a surgery which involved the insertation of k-nail (iron) to support the bone. The iron eventually broke into two and a surgery was necessitated to remove the 2 piece of broken iron and correct the short limb that was causing her a lot of pains. . Little did I know that the Indian doctors had planned to kill my dear Chineye or how else should I put it?
After the surgery in India, Chineye was upset, when I asked her why, she raised her fears over the surgery, Dr Gupta the senior consultant removed only one piece of the 2 pieces of previously broken iron in her limb as opposed to the earlier agreement that the two pieces will be removed before conducting the limb lengthening surgery. 
 
When she complained, he assured her that everything will be fine. Shortly after she was discharged, she noticed that the lengthening screw was stiff and complained immediately to the doctors but they informed her that they were looking for the right size of iron for her height.
After 3 days she was forced to go to the hospital. She walked to the dressing room and two other doctors began to attend to her because Dr Gupta was not in the hospital. While they were changing the screw she gasped and suddenly lost consciousness on the dressing table; the doctors wheeled her into the emergency room. 
 
Less than an hour after she was wheeled into the dressing room, I was informed that my daughter was dead, I was shocked, I could not believe my ears,I felt the world had come to an end, even in my state of shock the best, the hospital could do was to demand for an additional payment from me as cost of trying to revive Chineye.
When I walked into the room where she laid, I discovered they had already stuffed near nostrils with cotton wool while her body was still very warm, I immediately begged and cried helplessly that they should try to revive her but they heartlessly told me that there was nothing they could do that she had died and had planned to convey her to the mortuary at the time. Due to my insistence the transport to the hospital was delayed by another two hours during which they blatantly refused to administer any more procedure to revive her.
Dr Gupta latter arrived and told me she died of severe heart attack. Signs of negligence are evident in the preparedness of the surgery, as the first day she was wheeled into the theatre for the surgery it was cancelled and rescheduled because the iron was not the right size for her height even though she has done several physical consultations with Dr Gupta.
Secondly, a review of her medical records reveals that there was no blood thinning medication was prescribed which is necessary for this kind of surgery.
Thirdly, even after the surgery the doctors were still looking for the right size of iron. Fourthly, only one piece of the previously broken iron was removed. Finally, there was no willingness to revive her and they did not show any value for life in the urgency and recklessness with which they declared her dead and hurried her to the mortuary. Since her death Fortis Hospital New Delhi has issued several conflicting statements on the cause of her death which only confirms my fears that Chineye was murdered.
They have refused to release the autopsy result and they still claim to be investigating the cause of death. I have been crying since the 9th of October, 2015.
My heart bleeds and I know Chineye’s soul seeks for justice. I speak as a mother who deserves to know the cause of her daughter’s death. I need the support of every Nigerian in this fight against this murderous act, injustice, oppression and wickedness.
I am helpless but I believe that with God on my side and with the support of Nigerians and the international community by sharing this story until it gets to the relevant authorities, the killers of my daughter will not escape judgement. I have spoken to a couple of Nigerians that have also had unpalatable experiences in their search for medical aid in India.
Many have lost their loved ones and refused to share their story. I have decided to share this story to save more potential lives that will be lost due to medical negligence in Fortis Hospital and create awareness.
Fortis currently has a branch in Abuja, Nigeria. Fortis why did you kill Chineye? 
 

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