1993 - JAMB English Past Questions and Answers - page 8

  The disease afflicting Western societies have undergone dramatic changes. In the course of a century, so many mass killers have vanished that two-third of all deaths are now associated with the disease of old age. Those who die young are more often than not, the victims of accidents, violence and suicide.

  These changes in public health are generally equated with progress and attributed to more or better medical care. In fact there is no evidence of any direct relationship between changing disease pattern and the so-called progress of medicine.

  The impotence of medical services to change life expectancy and the insignificance of much contemporary clinical care in the curing of diseases are all obvious, well documented but well suppressed.

  Neither the proportion of doctors in a population nor the quality of the clinical tools at the disposal not the number of hospital beds is a casual factor in the striking changes in disease patterns. The new techniques available to recognize and treat such conditions as pernicious anaemia and hypertension, or correct congenital malformations by surgical interventions, increase our understanding of disease but do not reduce its incidence. The fact that there are more doctors where certain diseases have become rare has little to do with their ability to control or eliminate them. It simply means that doctors, more than other professionals, determine where they work. Consequently, they tend to gather where the climate is healthy, where the water is clean and where people work and can pay for their services.

Many doctors, according to the passage , choose to live where

  The disease afflicting Western societies have undergone dramatic changes. In the course of a century, so many mass killers have vanished that two-third of all deaths are now associated with the disease of old age. Those who die young are more often than not, the victims of accidents, violence and suicide.

  These changes in public health are generally equated with progress and attributed to more or better medical care. In fact there is no evidence of any direct relationship between changing disease pattern and the so-called progress of medicine.

  The impotence of medical services to change life expectancy and the insignificance of much contemporary clinical care in the curing of diseases are all obvious, well documented but well suppressed.

  Neither the proportion of doctors in a population nor the quality of the clinical tools at the disposal not the number of hospital beds is a casual factor in the striking changes in disease patterns. The new techniques available to recognize and treat such conditions as pernicious anaemia and hypertension, or correct congenital malformations by surgical interventions, increase our understanding of disease but do not reduce its incidence. The fact that there are more doctors where certain diseases have become rare has little to do with their ability to control or eliminate them. It simply means that doctors, more than other professionals, determine where they work. Consequently, they tend to gather where the climate is healthy, where the water is clean and where people work and can pay for their services.

The author’s attitude to developments in medicine is

  ADUKE: Listen my fellow women. The issue has little to do with being literate or not. It is true that most members of NAM (New Awareness Movement) are literate, but this does not make all of us enlightened. We must be able to draw a line between the two. You may be literate and yet possess a consciousness that is decadent and servile. On the other hand you may not have received formal education and yet may be the greatest exponent of progressive ideas.

  HASANA: I agree with what our sister has said. Let us not allow ourselves to be divided by a greedy and an inflated notion of the certificates we possess. In this century, as we march towards the year 2000, our primary concern should be how best to improve the lot of womanhood in our society. Let us not forget that for each woman who is beaten up by her man for flimsy reasons are status of all of us here is downgraded. For each woman who is insulted for no reason than that of her sex, every one of us here is spat on in the face. For each woman who is denied opportunities in the society simply because she is a woman, the whole lot of us are dehumanized. Each widow in this society is an everywoman, and the lot of each of us should be viewed as collective. Each rotten egg that is thrown at anyone of us is an eternal splash of dirt on our faces. Each decayed tomato that is cast at her is a collective curse on our fecundity: each pebble thrown at her, a missile against our womanhood. This is an age of awareness, and it is the duty of NAM to collectively rise in defence of the right of women.

  IME: We can no longer allow ourselves to be fried alive. We are going to squeeze ourselves into tight-fitting trousers, register into judo classes, and then file out into the street and punch the face of every man we behold.

In distinguishing between literacy and enlightenment, Aduke implies that

  ADUKE: Listen my fellow women. The issue has little to do with being literate or not. It is true that most members of NAM (New Awareness Movement) are literate, but this does not make all of us enlightened. We must be able to draw a line between the two. You may be literate and yet possess a consciousness that is decadent and servile. On the other hand you may not have received formal education and yet may be the greatest exponent of progressive ideas.

  HASANA: I agree with what our sister has said. Let us not allow ourselves to be divided by a greedy and an inflated notion of the certificates we possess. In this century, as we march towards the year 2000, our primary concern should be how best to improve the lot of womanhood in our society. Let us not forget that for each woman who is beaten up by her man for flimsy reasons are status of all of us here is downgraded. For each woman who is insulted for no reason than that of her sex, every one of us here is spat on in the face. For each woman who is denied opportunities in the society simply because she is a woman, the whole lot of us are dehumanized. Each widow in this society is an everywoman, and the lot of each of us should be viewed as collective. Each rotten egg that is thrown at anyone of us is an eternal splash of dirt on our faces. Each decayed tomato that is cast at her is a collective curse on our fecundity: each pebble thrown at her, a missile against our womanhood. This is an age of awareness, and it is the duty of NAM to collectively rise in defence of the right of women.

  IME: We can no longer allow ourselves to be fried alive. We are going to squeeze ourselves into tight-fitting trousers, register into judo classes, and then file out into the street and punch the face of every man we behold.

Hasana believes that NAM should not be divided by

  ADUKE: Listen my fellow women. The issue has little to do with being literate or not. It is true that most members of NAM (New Awareness Movement) are literate, but this does not make all of us enlightened. We must be able to draw a line between the two. You may be literate and yet possess a consciousness that is decadent and servile. On the other hand you may not have received formal education and yet may be the greatest exponent of progressive ideas.

  HASANA: I agree with what our sister has said. Let us not allow ourselves to be divided by a greedy and an inflated notion of the certificates we possess. In this century, as we march towards the year 2000, our primary concern should be how best to improve the lot of womanhood in our society. Let us not forget that for each woman who is beaten up by her man for flimsy reasons are status of all of us here is downgraded. For each woman who is insulted for no reason than that of her sex, every one of us here is spat on in the face. For each woman who is denied opportunities in the society simply because she is a woman, the whole lot of us are dehumanized. Each widow in this society is an everywoman, and the lot of each of us should be viewed as collective. Each rotten egg that is thrown at anyone of us is an eternal splash of dirt on our faces. Each decayed tomato that is cast at her is a collective curse on our fecundity: each pebble thrown at her, a missile against our womanhood. This is an age of awareness, and it is the duty of NAM to collectively rise in defence of the right of women.

  IME: We can no longer allow ourselves to be fried alive. We are going to squeeze ourselves into tight-fitting trousers, register into judo classes, and then file out into the street and punch the face of every man we behold.

‘Each widow in this society is Every woman’ means that

  ADUKE: Listen my fellow women. The issue has little to do with being literate or not. It is true that most members of NAM (New Awareness Movement) are literate, but this does not make all of us enlightened. We must be able to draw a line between the two. You may be literate and yet possess a consciousness that is decadent and servile. On the other hand you may not have received formal education and yet may be the greatest exponent of progressive ideas.

  HASANA: I agree with what our sister has said. Let us not allow ourselves to be divided by a greedy and an inflated notion of the certificates we possess. In this century, as we march towards the year 2000, our primary concern should be how best to improve the lot of womanhood in our society. Let us not forget that for each woman who is beaten up by her man for flimsy reasons are status of all of us here is downgraded. For each woman who is insulted for no reason than that of her sex, every one of us here is spat on in the face. For each woman who is denied opportunities in the society simply because she is a woman, the whole lot of us are dehumanized. Each widow in this society is an everywoman, and the lot of each of us should be viewed as collective. Each rotten egg that is thrown at anyone of us is an eternal splash of dirt on our faces. Each decayed tomato that is cast at her is a collective curse on our fecundity: each pebble thrown at her, a missile against our womanhood. This is an age of awareness, and it is the duty of NAM to collectively rise in defence of the right of women.

  IME: We can no longer allow ourselves to be fried alive. We are going to squeeze ourselves into tight-fitting trousers, register into judo classes, and then file out into the street and punch the face of every man we behold.

The speech of Hasana implies that

  ADUKE: Listen my fellow women. The issue has little to do with being literate or not. It is true that most members of NAM (New Awareness Movement) are literate, but this does not make all of us enlightened. We must be able to draw a line between the two. You may be literate and yet possess a consciousness that is decadent and servile. On the other hand you may not have received formal education and yet may be the greatest exponent of progressive ideas.

  HASANA: I agree with what our sister has said. Let us not allow ourselves to be divided by a greedy and an inflated notion of the certificates we possess. In this century, as we march towards the year 2000, our primary concern should be how best to improve the lot of womanhood in our society. Let us not forget that for each woman who is beaten up by her man for flimsy reasons are status of all of us here is downgraded. For each woman who is insulted for no reason than that of her sex, every one of us here is spat on in the face. For each woman who is denied opportunities in the society simply because she is a woman, the whole lot of us are dehumanized. Each widow in this society is an everywoman, and the lot of each of us should be viewed as collective. Each rotten egg that is thrown at anyone of us is an eternal splash of dirt on our faces. Each decayed tomato that is cast at her is a collective curse on our fecundity: each pebble thrown at her, a missile against our womanhood. This is an age of awareness, and it is the duty of NAM to collectively rise in defence of the right of women.

  IME: We can no longer allow ourselves to be fried alive. We are going to squeeze ourselves into tight-fitting trousers, register into judo classes, and then file out into the street and punch the face of every man we behold.

From the speech by Ime, it is clear that the women

  When I set out for London, little did I suspect that I was not on a journey to God’s own city where harmony reigned supreme. So used to the frenzied life of Lagos was I that I had come to associate that city with everything that was chaotic, and there was no doubt in my mind that Lagos was one giant symbol of our backwardness. As the plane taxied its way out of the tarmac of our national airport, of our national airport, I heaved a sigh of relief, not so much because I was leaving my own country as that I was being relieved of the tension that had possessed me during those tense hours in the untidy lounge. I had felt so uneasy, my thoughts racing from one uncertainty to another. But at least I was air-borne, moving away from the whole uncertainty, from the whole load of fear towards a place which I supposed would be El Dorado.

  Everything that happened in the plane passed through my eyes like pictures on the screen. The white air hostess who instructed me on how to use the safety belt was an angel, what with her beauty, her pretty blue dress, and her ever-smiling face. The same lady of the air served me snacks and supper. Another angel, whose queenly voice through an invisible public address system, dished out occasional information on the progress of our journey. I had never felt so relaxed, and my jolted heartbeats each time the plane took what appeared like a sudden brief descent, did not matter. When eventually we were set for landing, the anxiety that came over me was almost thrilling. What was the wonderland going to be like? So overwhelmed was I that I almost lost consciousness of what happened thereafter.

  But I would never forget the shock that greeted me when we arrived in the tube station and boarded a train to behold the sea of white faces and furtive glances from apparently indifferent co-passengers. I believe that the nostalgic feeling for Lagos which later became part of my life all my days in London began at a point.

Before the writer left Lagos, he believed London was

  When I set out for London, little did I suspect that I was not on a journey to God’s own city where harmony reigned supreme. So used to the frenzied life of Lagos was I that I had come to associate that city with everything that was chaotic, and there was no doubt in my mind that Lagos was one giant symbol of our backwardness. As the plane taxied its way out of the tarmac of our national airport, of our national airport, I heaved a sigh of relief, not so much because I was leaving my own country as that I was being relieved of the tension that had possessed me during those tense hours in the untidy lounge. I had felt so uneasy, my thoughts racing from one uncertainty to another. But at least I was air-borne, moving away from the whole uncertainty, from the whole load of fear towards a place which I supposed would be El Dorado.

  Everything that happened in the plane passed through my eyes like pictures on the screen. The white air hostess who instructed me on how to use the safety belt was an angel, what with her beauty, her pretty blue dress, and her ever-smiling face. The same lady of the air served me snacks and supper. Another angel, whose queenly voice through an invisible public address system, dished out occasional information on the progress of our journey. I had never felt so relaxed, and my jolted heartbeats each time the plane took what appeared like a sudden brief descent, did not matter. When eventually we were set for landing, the anxiety that came over me was almost thrilling. What was the wonderland going to be like? So overwhelmed was I that I almost lost consciousness of what happened thereafter.

  But I would never forget the shock that greeted me when we arrived in the tube station and boarded a train to behold the sea of white faces and furtive glances from apparently indifferent co-passengers. I believe that the nostalgic feeling for Lagos which later became part of my life all my days in London began at a point.

Before the plane left Lagos, the writer must have

  When I set out for London, little did I suspect that I was not on a journey to God’s own city where harmony reigned supreme. So used to the frenzied life of Lagos was I that I had come to associate that city with everything that was chaotic, and there was no doubt in my mind that Lagos was one giant symbol of our backwardness. As the plane taxied its way out of the tarmac of our national airport, of our national airport, I heaved a sigh of relief, not so much because I was leaving my own country as that I was being relieved of the tension that had possessed me during those tense hours in the untidy lounge. I had felt so uneasy, my thoughts racing from one uncertainty to another. But at least I was air-borne, moving away from the whole uncertainty, from the whole load of fear towards a place which I supposed would be El Dorado.

  Everything that happened in the plane passed through my eyes like pictures on the screen. The white air hostess who instructed me on how to use the safety belt was an angel, what with her beauty, her pretty blue dress, and her ever-smiling face. The same lady of the air served me snacks and supper. Another angel, whose queenly voice through an invisible public address system, dished out occasional information on the progress of our journey. I had never felt so relaxed, and my jolted heartbeats each time the plane took what appeared like a sudden brief descent, did not matter. When eventually we were set for landing, the anxiety that came over me was almost thrilling. What was the wonderland going to be like? So overwhelmed was I that I almost lost consciousness of what happened thereafter.

  But I would never forget the shock that greeted me when we arrived in the tube station and boarded a train to behold the sea of white faces and furtive glances from apparently indifferent co-passengers. I believe that the nostalgic feeling for Lagos which later became part of my life all my days in London began at a point.

When the plane took off the writer felt happy because