The Soft Issue
August 2017
Story from Outside
From Instagram to Facebook to WhatsApp to
Snapchat, there is this maddening, life-threatening
chaos that comes with life on the internet.
contemporary newsroom: an open, unregulated space
whose walls, or more appropriately now, “gates”, have
been pulled down by the lethal synergy between time
and technology.
What implication does this have on journalism practice?
Legion. First, the modern day reporter, unlike his ancient
colleague, is literally torn between accuracy and speed.
He is in competition with folks who do for pleasure,
or sheer mischief or both, what he otherwise does
professionally. But the untrained, self-proclaimed ‘news-
breakers’ owe nobody any responsibility; and the ultimate
for the attention-seeking ones among them is to “trend”
online, or, to adopt a popular lingo, “break the internet”.
Yet, there are many more implications.
And so in many ways, unlike his retrograde ancestors,
the modern day journalist has a lot to deal with. But
something, just one thing, serves as shield in all of
this: adequate training predicated on familiarity with
contemporary journalism practices that leverage on
judicious use of 21st century gadgets and technologies.
Plus, the burning desire to be on top of the news.
Simpliciter.
II
Ibadan, for its warmth and traditional ambience and
cautious drivers and loud-mouthed market women, is
my ideal go-to city. Away from the maddening chaos of
Lagos, Ibadan offers that unique tranquillity that comes
with easy life. And, O’boy, there are radio stations in
Ibadan; perhaps, there are more radio stations than there
are humans.
Splash FM. Beat FM. Oluyole FM. Star FM. Space FM. IBR.
Amuludun. Name it.
When I am around here, whether in Mokola or Dugbe-
Alawo or Ayeye or Bodija Housing Estate, I try to hide
away from the internet.
Why: from Instagram to Facebook to WhatsApp to
Snapchat, there is this maddening, life-threatening chaos
that comes with life on the internet. So the internet, in a
way, is like Lagos: a mad space housing largely uncultured
(young) folks who hide under the anonymity the medium
offers to hurl insults at acquaintances old enough to birth
them, under the guise of throwing “shades”, or, to adopt
their hippie lingo, “subs”.
But there is a danger: the radio, largely because of the
crass laziness of its handlers, and despite being an
“immediate” medium, still trails the internet in terms of
contemporaneous supply of contents. And, in June 2017, it
is not really out of place for a radio listener to consider it a
“breaking news” that Jonathan has been deposed from his
seat in Aso Rock. Overly hyperbolic, this immediate claim,
but the truth dwells around this region, still.
What would an Ibadan-obsessed Journalist, then, do? Well,
it’s a simple case: there is always a price to pay for every
comfort.
III
Ilorin, with its easy-going commuters and largely unruly
taxi drivers, offers no cliché: the city, indeed, as its proud
indigenes would have us believe, is not far away from ‘Al-
jannah’. Well, except when those cutlass-wielding ‘Kwara
Poly boys’, together with their disciples in Okelele and
Agbo-Oba and Sabo-Oke, all of them potential inmates of
Oke-kura, unleash mayhem on the innocent city.
But the monstrosity of those latter day reprobates,
notwithstanding, the city is quite fascinating even in its
chaos, as exemplified in life around the old railway line
between Challenge and Post-Office. The railway line,
located in the midriff of the city, divides it into two almost-
equal halves: it separates the din of Opo-Malu from the
beauty of the GRA; it separates the filth of Niger from
the beauty of Fate-Tanke; and it separates the serenity of
UNILORIN campus from the faeces of Alanamu.
Save for Royal FM, and the trailblazing Unilorin FM, radio
life in Ilorin is not quite interesting; and this bitter assertion
is, to adopt a cliché on one of the city’s popular radios,
the “Ookodoro oro”. Plus, the near-death of the promising
Raypower FM compounded the woes. Let us skip television:
it’s totally non-existent. So, what to do when the journo
finds himself in Ilorin?
Simple solution: Shelve the Ibadan vow and go back to the
internet.
IV
Brethren, here is what it means to reside in Lagos, have
close affinity with Ibadan and school in Ilorin: to compress
life in, and memories of, these three cities into one, and
love them all, in equal measure, almost.
Olawoyin Oladeinde is the immediate
past editor of The Lens. He presently
works with Premium Times Newspaper.
Pray, what difference does it make to run away from
Lagos chaos and still dwell on the Nigerian internet? So, if
Ibadan is the destination, radio is the ideal partner.
85
the
LENS