How To Write WASSCE In Nigeria

If you are reading this as a student yet to write the 'most important' exam of your life, trust me, you have nothing to fear. This manual helps you understand how you should (or should not) study for an exam which does not study you or your ability. And well, to those of us who have written, this is just but a reminder of a process we once feared (or still fear) and how deep malpractice pervades it.

First, we need to define some key terms:
-School: Where a student learns and  writes WASSCE

-Student: Someone who writes WASSCE.

-Invigilator: A teacher of a student's school who supervises the writing of WASSCE.

-Supervisor: An external WAEC-appointed individual who conducts WASSCE.

-Dubs: Any form of 'prohibited' material that aids a student in writing WASSCE. Also known as choks, chips, runs, expo etc. The process of using dubs is called 'dubbing'

First, the school is the most important variable in the system which determines all other elements. As a student, you need to know what category your school falls under.
There are the 'perfect' schools where every student and invigilator knows his place and they don't tolerate any form of dubbing. Depending on the academic standard of the school, such schools could turn out with excellent results for its students or average results which is usually the case. This is usually the case in older private and missionary schools which have reputations to uphold.

Then, there are the 'passive' schools who turn a blind eye to the student's activities, neither encouraging nor discouraging. There is occasionally a major case of malpractice where a student is disciplined thoroughly just to prove a point that doesn't even exist. Such schools usually keep the supervisors in check by giving them 'something' for transport. Few students in such 'good' schools do exceptionally well while the majority does averagely well with some failing woefully. Federal schools are an excellent example.

Finally, there are the 'co-operative' schools who do everything but write for the students. They dose the supervisors with heavy caffeine, keep them preoccupied with something, or settle them. The invigilators are teachers usually specialized in the subject being written and help every student individually by calling out the answers, photocopying them or even shading for some. If you think your school cannot be in this category, ask your seniors who have graduated already. Most public schools and smaller private schools tend to fall under this category who either pass or fail overwhelmingly.

Now that you have figured out what category your school belongs to, you need to understand that there are three types of students and know which category you fall into.

You can choose to be a saint with a holier-than-thou attitude towards examinations. You have to be quite intelligent though, because having studied and put all your faith in God, you have no business with anyone during the examinations and can only write what you know. Some who opt for this method are sometimes seen submitting semi-blank answer sheets looking very frustrated trying not to break their vow with themselves. In some cases however, they are usually the very intelligent ones whose answers are unique to every one else's and end up with distinctions.

While the motto of a saint is "Do your best and leave the rest", the 'sharp guys' have a slightly different motto which substitutes 'leave' for 'dub'. Here, you have to be equally intelligent and have studied to maximum expectation. However, in the exam hall, you use a combo of both wits and 'dubs'. After successfully answering all those you know, you then use the 'dubs' to fill in the blanks and have a complete paper. You have to be quite smart, however, with your mates because you almost always become a source for 'dubs' being quite intelligent and having a flawed integrity. You might even be given 'dubs' and asked to cross-check, and occasionally you would lie to them so they might fail and you would pass more (that's supposed to be the logic, I guess). However, you shouldn't expect more than credits on your results and an occasional distinction if you're lucky and intelligent.

You can never go wrong, or rather, right, with the masters of 'dubbing', the 'dubbos'. The thing about being a dubbo is you really don't care about the exams. You have to be EXTREMELY lucky to pass using 'dubs', as everyone is practically writing the same thing as you are, which raises suspicion. So don't study or bother praying since your salvation lies not in God but in the 'dubs'.

Dubs come in different forms.  Traditionally, you can get your 'dubs' from those around you or by luckily smuggling in a Key Points textbook (they are really handy) and peeking without being caught. As expected, dubbing has evolved like every other thing in the world to a much simpler and technologically accessible sport. I use 'sport' because it requires immense skill, precise timing, adequate practice, and most of all, grace in hand-eye coordination. Nonetheless, you have to find which method suits you best. You could choose to join a WhatsApp group that automatically supplies the 'dubs' to your phone (the easiest method). Or you could subscribe to a 'supplier' who texts you the answers during the examination. Better still, you could use weirdly named websites like naijaruns.com or wapcliq.com to get '100% CERTIFIED WAEC RUNS!!!' according to them. And yes, in case you're wondering, they are 100% certified to fail you. Most of the 'dubbos' are constant failures in school exams and using technologically advanced 'dubs' just continues the losing streak.

Basically, once you figure out who you are among these three categories of exam-writers, you can then begin to chart your pathway towards your desired results in WASSCE.

This article might sound casual but aims to deliver a strong message.

I am Malami.
@ss_malami on Twitter.

My Valedictory Speech

Good morning my Principal, Distinguished guests, teachers, parents, and my fellow Kingsmen. I am Saeed Malami, the graduating School Captain of Kings College Lagos 2014/2015 session, and before I delve any further into my speech as valedictorian, I would like to give a quick morale booster to every Kingsman here; present, past, and future, to define who a Kingsman is.

Hence every time I ask, “Who am I?”, I want every Kingsman here to raise their fists in the air and say boldly “I am a Kingsman!”. Let’s try that first. Who am I? “I am a Kingsman!”
Here we go:
Who am I? 

I was born and bred among the best of the best, built to face every obstacle in life and conquer it with chivalry and truth.
Who am I?

I see no boundaries between people, North-South, black-white, Muslim-Christian, Hausa-Igbo-Yoruba, are one in my eyes.
Who am I?

I learn and unlearn, change and adapt to whatever situation I find myself in no matter how difficult it is ‘cause I know I’ve been through fiery heat of the kiln and can stand as a marvel of pottery.
Who am I?

In chaos, I remain calm. In calm, I exude chivalry. And among the chivalrous, I display Kingsmanship/royalty.
Who am I?

Patriotism, honesty, and integrity, are attributes you find running through my veins because they are the very principles which I live by and I stand for. And they define who I am.
Who am I?

Change is constant; and I’m never a victim of change but a victor of change because I effect that change.
Who am I?

Innovation and creation are the bane of my existence. I break boundaries of human thinking and think like there is no box. There is no impossible in my dictionary because the word itself screams to me “I-M-POSSIBLE”
Who am I?

I believe that my success and achievements are as a result of my organized efforts and deliberate hardwork to get from where I am to where I want to be.
Who am I?

I strive to excel in whatever I do; I put my best and expect the worst, knowing that things don’t always go my way.
Who am I?

And every time I fail, every time I fall, I look to my left and to my right, to my front and back, and I see brothers. I see comrades. Comrades who have been with me through thick and thin, through blood and sweat, through hunger, hustle and tears and I know that they’ll pick me up and push me on.
Who am I?

Everything I do is in the service of God, is in the service of my nation, and in the service of humanity because I am a true leader. And as a leader, I am a chief servant.
Who am I???

My friends say I speak too much big big English so today I’m going to tone it down and speak on our level. To start with, I can only stand here today as School Captain because the graduating set has given me the mandate to and I would be nothing without them. They are me and I am them. I simply stand as the harbinger of the intellectuality and vitality that bursts through every single one of us.

What is life? Life is in binary, in 0s and 1s, Yes/No. True/False.  Essentially, life is about making choices that shape our future. Three years ago, four hundred and fifty-three young men made a life-changing choice to attend the school whose very hall we sit in today. These 453 naïve young men had no idea what lay in store for them as they trudged through those very iron gates on September 29th, 2012. It started differently for us all. For some, it was the first deafening slap from a senior that brought them to realize where they were. Others, coming back to the dormitories and finding their boxes empty woke them up. This was Kings College Lagos. You had to be smart, you needed to think, calculate, be a ’sharp snake’ and adapt to whatever situation you found yourself in. So we started adapting, leaving the dorms at 5:00 am sharp with our heavily loaded bags of life to avoid seniors, reading anytime and every time because there was practically not much else to do; moving our lives to various places all around the school: class, basketball court, staff school, garden, you name it! There were times when light and water were not available as they are today, and we had to find quick solutions to wash, iron, and even have our baths. There were times, my friends, there were times.

Now, the rush, the thrill, the adventure we had during our early days at Kings College stirred something deep within us as it brought us together and built an unbreakable bond. We began to understand ourselves, to realize ourselves. We started to understand who we were. And that’s what Kings College does really; it helps you realize who you are, what your values are, what it is that you are good at that stands you out, your niche, your passion. Now not everyone here can be as helpful as Oboh Charles and Azeez, or be as fast as Prosper and MKO, or speak as eloquently as Ishiguzo and Henrie, or read as much as Musa and Gbolahan, or play football as well as Da-Silva and Diebi, or even rap as good as Rapture and T-maro and Mac-P. Not everyone here can do that, I can’t! But every single one of us here has something that we can do so well that no one else can. Yes, that very thing you’re thinking of right now…is your strength. Build on it, work on it, practise it, and trust me, someday you will be successful beyond measure.

However, ladies and gentlemen, Kings College has always been and will always be a great institution, not necessarily because of its vibrant students or its accomplished alumni, rather it stands strong because of those that hold strong its foundation: The staff. The role Kings College teachers play in crafting and modeling these fine young men cannot be overemphasized. Their resilience, patience, and discipline in dealing with us and our never-ending troubles must be appreciated so I say we take a moment and hand them a round of applause. Thank you. But the appreciation does not end here, when each and every one of you succeeds in life, as I know you will, I want you to keep contact with your teachers and then you can probably buy them a house in Ikoyi or a private jet. Sincerely, find them and appreciate them, because that really is a teacher’s joy: knowing their hard work paid off. My personal gratitude reaches infinitely to the English Department headed by my mother away from home, Mrs. Onyeguiri. Her care, discipline and guidance built me into realizing my utmost potential. Thank you very much Ma. To my brother, Mr. Muhammad, Mr. Ken, Sir Johnson, and Mrs. Ademoyewa, who nurtured me through my time in Kings College from SS1 to SS3, I forever remain indebted to you. To Malam Isa, Malam Sani, Mrs. Duguri, Mr. Garba, Mr. Sulaiman, and the entire Muslim community, I say thank you for keeping me true to my faith. As a set, our special condolences go to the family of Mrs. Titi Aleke, a lady who was so dear to all of us. May her soul rest in perfect peace.

Our deepest appreciation goes to the administrators, first, to the maintenance of the boarding house, we relay our sincere gratitude to the SBHM, Mr. Onatade, ably aided by the hardworking Mr. Akinola. Then, to our loving VP Special Duties, Aunty Maria, who remains a mother to us all. We love you Ma and may and may God continue to crown your efforts with success. Then our hardworking VP Acad, who despite coming toward the end of our time in KC, pushed us to achieve more than we could imagine in our schoolwork, Thank you Ma. Our success stories in KC cannot be written, however, without mentioning Mrs Uduehi, the former VP Acad, who embraced us with loving arms upon our admission into KC and became our motivation for excellence in every sphere of our activities. Thank you again, Ma’am. For all our mischief, we say a big thank you to the VP admin, Mr. Utomi, SD, for being there to check our misbehavior with the appropriate punishment.  We thank you for your discipline and guidance, sir. Finally, to an illustrious gentleman, an efficient administrator, an understanding disciplinarian, and a genuine king-maker, Otunba Dele Olapeju, we thank you for giving us the opportunity to be thoroughly built as Kingsmen. It truly is an honor to be the last set to graduate with you, and to be the last School Captain to serve under you. Your hard work and integrity shall propagate multiple blessings for you as you retire.

Words cannot express our gratitude to our beloved parents for everything you have done for us. Everything we do, we do to make you happy. My mother, Mrs. Amina Malami, is the perfect balance of a loving disciplinarian. My father, Mr. Uba Saidu Malami, serves the perfect role model to me and my siblings. May God bless you both. To my family in Lagos, Tata Fatima, Tata Bisi, Uncle Kunle, thank you for being there. Nonetheless, our greatest gratitude goes to God Almighty for making all of this impossible. Alhamdulilah.
My fellow kingsmen, today is our Valedictory Service, the day we say Goodbye. Goodbye to being chased for prep by Mr. Frank & Mr. Sam, or out of dorm by Mr. Taiwo. Goodbye to being caned by Mr. Akano or being deboarded by SD. Goodbye to early morning pep talks from Mr. Wilson or Mr. Akinola or Mr. Kazeem. Goodbye to the best person in the dining: Mrs Akanbi. Goodbye to lofowan on parade ground. Goodbye to long Monday and Friday assemblies. Goodbye to early morning Westy. Goodbye to late night garri soaking. Goodbye to perching, to ending, to banging, to solo paming, to mizing, to dubbing, to paroling, to squatting, to casting, to fapping, to merging, to derepping, to carps yarning, and to deboarding, we say goodbye. This might be the last time you will ever see some friends here, so I want you to reach out to them now and hug them, tight, because the friends you’ve made here will be your true friends for life. Ladies and gentlemen, we all have success stories to write and today, I guess we are done with the prologue. Thank you.

The People Don't Know Their True Power

This country is sick. At least that’s what Mr. Olukayode, my Civic Education teacher says. I find him more interesting than Mrs. Maiturare, our former teacher, who does not tell stories as much as he does. I really enjoy his stories. He brings freshly-sapped gist from the political palm trees and delivers it with his own drinking cup. He told us last week of a tape that was leaked on how a governor rigged elections in Edo, sorry, Ekiti State. I can remember that time when I was scrolling through my Twitter timeline and saw that they had sent many many soldiers and policemen to Ekiti for the elections. If they could still rig the elections then, what would stop them now? I could not, and still cannot understand why everyone is sitting down and looking at the rigger of the elections. Shouldn’t he be in jail or something? I asked Mr. Olukayode and he told me that Nigeria has an uneducated and unethical democracy. I never knew there was a third type of democracy and it seems that only Nigeria is running it as far as I know. I can write this in my mock exams next week: 

“-This system of democracy allows for the direct slander of opponents during campaigns and rallies, and even in newspapers I steal get from the library every day. In this system of democracy, you can pick on your opponent’s flaws as though you were two children fighting in primary school. “You have a big stomach from the money you are eating”, “Your wife is not a Nigerian”, “You have a Port Harcourt Degree (PhD) and you are treating us like animals”, “I have plenty papers. You don’t have any papers!”etc. There is also the presence of media houses to blow things out of proportions with use of words like “slams”, “lambasts” and “condemns”. Another function of the media houses is to take sides with the highest-bidding political parties by creating attractive graphics that consume every gullible listener and viewer. Another peculiarity of this system is that you are free to woo illiterate and desperate voters with expired bags of rice and yam that would hopefully last for years to come after the elections. There is also the presence of ever-exploding social media platforms that criticize and correct the government in power which hardly ever listens e.g. #BringBackOurGirls. Eloquent and intelligently outspoken individuals are also allowed to place their talents up for sale to the highest bidder to juice up the campaigns. Such cases of political ‘prostitutes’ are not considered corruption but merely spontaneous change of ideals influenced by individual economic recessions. Finally, corrupt officials are celebrated and encouraged to stay in power by those who have benefited from their loot and most importantly, thugs of yesterday can be forgiven to become the Special Advisers of today.”

Most of my classmates think I should become a politician when I grow up because I have ‘sweet mouth’. I really would like to become one. However, not in this ‘unethical and uneducated system of democracy’. I sometimes wonder if Nigeria deserves democracy. As a 16 year-old, I feel like I have more of an independent view to politics than the 50 year-old night watchman with 8 children who would sell his vote for a N1000 because he does not understand the value of his franchise, or perhaps, circumstances compromised his integrity. That night watchman and millions of others like him who sell their integrity out of necessity are what destroy the fabric of democracy. Hence, the inevitable weevil of corruption eats into the beans of their integrity and the resulting porridge of democracy becomes putrid. The people find themselves at the mercy of their leaders and their rights become privileges to them since a loophole was discovered. I should be allowed to vote then, I think, given my unwavering integrity. The truth is, maybe I have not ‘grown’ to grasp the realities of life. But I do grasp one thing; the people do not know their true power. 

I am Malami.

@ss_malami on Twitter.

Don't Kill My Dreams

           I wake up to the undead rays of early morning sunlight creeping in through my blinds. I stagger to the toilet and turn on the tap and to my utter disappointment, drip-drop! No water! I rush to switch on the borehole as luckily, there's light. Ha! I haven't ironed my uniform. The click of the iron switch synchronizes ever so perfectly with the sudden darkness. PHCN and their timing though. The way things are going, I just pray they don't take the light at the end of the tunnel. I spend the next few hours preparing for school. 
            I meet my father outside struggling to turn on his car which just got back from the mechanic's a day ago. The problem is obvious. Fake parts! I board a 'one-chance' bus (as we Nigerians call it) praying fervently for a safe arrival. Unfortunately, or rather fortunately, the bus breaks down after diving tyre-deep into a massive pothole. Bad roads! I am forced to trek the remaining distance to school. On getting to school, I find a frustrated class teacher who gives me a thorough whooping for coming late while complaining about his unpaid salary. Embezzlement of public funds! The rest of the school day just flies by as more and more half-baked and half-hearted teachers rush through their lessons. Poor system of education! I hitch a ride home from a friend of mine. Halfway home, we are stopped by policemen. Witfully, they coerce my friend's mother into giving them a mere N200 for them to let us go. Bribery and corruption! 
            On getting home, I find the entire neighbourhood in commotion. A neighbour of mine has been robbed in broad daylight. Insecurity! I slip into the sitting room thinking of how horrid a day this was. As if that was not enough, my father storms in cursing and swearing at the government. A friend of his had just died that morning after taking fake drugs. Fake drugs! He was rushed to the nearest hospital as the situation could still be salvaged. Unfortunately, the doctors were on strike. Underpaid workers! I retire to my room and read a newspaper for some peace. I flip through the newspaper to find a news article regarding a bomb blast that killed scores. Insecurity again! Ironically, I find out that the FG presents N76.3 million to the purchase of crested cutlery, flatware and glassware in 2014! It's obvious that the FG has misplaced priorities. 
            I lay my head down to rest as this is all too much to take in and my eyes follow suit. Lo and behold! I see a Nigeria with good roads, beautiful scenery, an excellent standard of education, an efficient workforce, and everything else that qualifies it as a world-class nation. I am however awoken with the sound of a gunshot in the area. Armed robbers. I lay my head down and let my wild imagination produce the Nigeria of my dreams, literally. This is the reality of the somewhat privileged Nigerian child. Talk less of the poverty-stricken ones! This is a plea to the leaders of this great nation. Please don't kill my dreams and destroy my hopes of a greater nation.

My Role In Nation Building

I am a Nigerian Child. A child born into a generation of commotion. A child born in a time of confusion. A time of ethnic differences. A time of disputes between cultures and between religions. YET, I remain optimistic that at the end of this dark tunnel, there is a light. A light for you, a light for me. But I want to be part of that light. I want to make an impact. I want to bring change. I want to know that if I leave this world, I leave it knowing I played my part. But what is my part?

 Nigeria as a nation has grown immensely since its independence that we can all agree that we have electricity...every once in a while. We have good roads...in some places. We have great lecturers...that are nowhere to be found. We have grown, yes, but is that growth enough? 

Our nation was built on the solid foundation of integrity, driven by the supporting force of determination but still needs one main element to make it the right nation. Every child was but an onlooker to these achievements, but now we have decided to take part. Take part to take change. My role in nation-building starts with this guy and it starts with that guy. You know why? It's because we are the nation. Our character, our attitudes reflect our being as a people. Indirectly what I'm saying is we need to change our corrupt mindset that we call 'Nigerian mentality' towards a more positive outlook. We need to start looking at the glass of water half-full and not half-empty. Only then will we begin to realize the changes we so much crave for in our society. As a 15-year old citizen of Nigeria, I am endeared with the responsibility of studying the history of my country and the biography of her true patriots. Their shoes are waiting to be worn. I should be able to find the well from which they drew their inspiration from and draw a bucketful of experience and patriotism. I should be able to look their eyes and understand their vision for Nigeria. I should be able to understand what made them true leaders and also fight to become a champion of democracy. I should walk in the footsteps of Ahmadu Bello and shine in the light of Nnamdi Azikiwe. I should be driven by the courage of Tafawa Balewa and be motivated by the perseverence of Obafemi Awolowo. I should understand democracy and understudy the underlying principles of politics in Nigeria...to a safe level. These indeed are my guiding principles, my stepping stones, the boundaries within which I think and act. In line with the beliefs of the late Nelson Mandela, may his blessed soul rest in perfect peace, we need to start focusing on what unites us and not what divides us. Distinguished ladies and gentlemen, this isn't only my role. It's your role, it's his role, it's her role, it's our role, it's the Nigerians role! I challenge each and every one of you here today to take responsibility for your roles and who knows...we might just be that step closer to the actualisation of the Nigerian dream!

A Welcome Note

This is the beginning of what will be, or what I hope to be, a resolution towards change in Nigeria. Not just change...positive change. This blog will be a collection of my essays and speeches and those of other Nigerian children whose voices have been submerged by the overwhelming populace. This will be published on a weekly basis. 
It will also serve as a recurring reminder to Nigerians that the reform we so much crave for begins with each of us as individuals. 

My gratitude goes to Japheth Omojuwa (@Omojuwa) and my father, Uba Saidu Malami (@USMalami) for being my inspiration. Thank you.