daniel

On This Day

On this day in 1703: Renowned writer of “Robinson Crusoe”, was placed in a pillory for seditious libel

On this day in 1703: English trader, journalist and later the renowned writer of “Robinson Crusoe”, Daniel Defoe was placed in a pillory for the crime of seditious libel after publishing a politically satirical pamphlet but was rather pelted with flowers. Born in London in 1660, Daniel Defoe came from a family of successful non-conformists who were not afraid to dissent against the majority. Daniel made a living as a trader but was also outspoken and active in the socio-political issues. During his time religious dissenters were among the “radical” protesters against the church and political establishment for suppressing dissent. In 1702 he published a pamphlet “The Shortest Way with Dissenters,” in anonymity to the chagrin of the authorities. The pamphlet satirically suggested that instead of passing laws against all religious dissenters – including Protestant “nonconformists” like himself and many who emigrated to the New World – the easier solution would be to simply kill them. Unfortunately, Defoe’s proposal was taken seriously by some of the Anglican Tories in government who offered a reward to seek out the author. His publisher ratted him out and he was arrested, tried and sentenced to a huge fine, time in Newgate Prison, and 3 days in the pillory. The pillory was used to punish minor offenders including cheats, rioters and homosexuals, by shaming them in public. They were pelted by the crowd with rotten eggs, filth, and in extreme cases with stones, saucepans that caused serious injury. Some were killed or maimed for life. Defoe was put in the pillory on the last three days of July, for an hour each time in three of the busiest places in London – outside the Royal Exchange in Cornhill (near his own home), near the conduit in Cheapside and finally in Fleet Street by Temple Bar. While awaiting his pillorying Defoe composed a sarcastic poem, “Hymn to the Pillory,” in which he wrote: “Tell us, great engine, how to understand Or reconcile the justice of this land…” As his friends sold the poem, the public throw flowers instead and drink to his health. Defoe was sent back to Newgate prison but he could not pay his fine. In November, Defoe’s fine was paid out of secret service funds and he was released. He was later employed to publish a regular newspaper which showed the ministry in a favourable light. In 1706 Defoe was sent to Scotland as a spy to gather political intelligence and further the projected union with England. He continued to turn out propaganda for successive ministries and later wrote Robinson Crusoe for which he is best-remembered in 1719.

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Introducing Daniel Ogba our Associate Editor. He is a young, goal-oriented Nigerian writer, freelance editor and undergraduate student at The University of Nigeria. His writings explore themes of familial conditions, mental illness, love, death, and mostly, queerness.  His works have appeared in Ile Alo, The Muse journal 47, and elsewhere.   Daniels joins the team with good recommendations and we hope to build great stuff together.

Essays, Writers

Awkward by Oluremi Daniel.

“How far bros! I get original gold chain wey I wan sell o!” M.K. said just as I got out of the room to enter the sitting room. He and my cousins were now looking at me for a response. I was startled! How was I supposed to explain that I wasn’t that type of guy….that type of cool? Oba and Korede were also hailing me. Then he dropped the bombshell, “Na just 250k na, you be boss na!” I felt like entering the ground. At this point I wasn’t sure if they were mocking me, trying to assess my financial stance or were sincerely advertising the bracelet. I wanted to tell them that I was from a conservative christian family, where we do not use jewelry but I couldn’t utter a word! Even if I did use jewelry I wasn’t about to spend someone’s five month salary on a metal band. I was just chuckling like a baby. How could people I just met for not more than an hour hit me with something like that. After a very awkward period of more flattering from their side and more silent chuckles from mine , I gently exited the place and went into the compound. I could see subtle looks of disappointment on their faces as I left. That was too much too fast! For more clarity, let us take a rewind to a few hours before I even got to their house, shall we? The day had finally come! The anticipated wedding of my cousin,  was drawing near and my mom, brother and I were on our way to Ibadan from our residence in Abeokuta. The event had been hyped for long and in good spirit. This is because the bride-to-be and her 5 younger siblings are distant cousins, ones I had not seen in nothing less than 5 years and my brother had not seen ever. To understand even better, a little preview of their family tree is required. My maternal grandmother had three daughters: Aunty Titi, Aunty Ranti and My mom. Hence my mom was the last child. All the three sisters lived far away from each other, Aunty Titi in Kwara State and Aunty Ranti in the Federal Capital Territory, Abuja and this was not in favour of our extended family. My aunts visited us occasionally so I knew them to an extent. However, we the children really didn’t know much about each other. This made the wedding an avenue to know that side of my family. Tofunmi, the cousin to be married, was a wonderful person to me. The memories of her from more than 5 years were still warm in my heart. She was the only one of them that was really accommodating to me when we met for the first time at an occasion they also came for in Ibadan. Back then, even though she had just met me, she gave me her phone, talked with me and even sat in the same place with me. The icing on the cake was that she was now a barrister! I was so proud of her and everything she had achieved after all those years. In fact, she happens to be the only lawyer from my mother’s family. Her husband to be was a rich dude based in South Africa. In order to make sure that the ceremony was convenient for many important people to attend and because the place was the childhood home town of both my aunt and her husband, Ibadan was chosen as the location of the wedding. The best event centres were booked, nice cloth materials were selected and mind-blowing souvenirs were prepared. It was going to be a lit party, one that needed preparation mentally, composure-wise and appearance-wise. Me and my younger brother got our hair trimmed, made our attires at a talented fashion designer’s shop and were headed towards the convergence point at Ibadan. As children of the last born of the three, we were to lodge in their Ibadan house, which they built part of and furnished to accommodate nothing less than 10 people. We left Abeokuta on Thursday, a day before the engagement ceremony to ensure that we (especially my mom, who was a passionate party planner) played our individual roles in the planning and preparation for the days ahead. As a fashion sensitive person, I carefully selected my outfit and that of my brother to make sure our first-ish impression would be satisfying. I had recently gotten a scholarship and so I bought and wore a black sweatshirt with purple and grey hues as well as a nice pair of joggers and a sleek pair of slides; a classic casual wear. I wasn’t looking bad, and I made sure I didn’t throughout the whole series of functions. On getting to the house, as we alighted from the motorcycle we boarded, I saw two young guys coming our way: a fair guy with brown plaited locks on his head and a dark guy with a oversized white tee and red pants. When we got to the gate of the large compound, I was face to face with Korede. Korede was the fourth child of the six and he was probably a couple years older than me. After exchanging greetings, the inevitable introduction began. “Korede, meet my doctor, Daniel.”, my mom said while pointing to me. We all smiled at each other when she said that. I however was not happy I got introduced that way. It was just too cheesy and I felt somehow embarrassed. “Daniel, meet my celebrity, Kinzboy!” my mom hailed Korede. It turns out that my cousin was a popular musician in Abuja. The other guy was his friend and producer, M.K (I never knew the meaning of that abbreviation or the his real name throughout the party). “Don’t you know me? Haven’t you heard my song?”Korede asked. I shook my head to indicate that I didn’t. I am not really a fan

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