It is amazing that I only got to watch the very popular 1993 jingle of the Social Democratic Party for the first time last week while “facebooking”. Someone had posted a link to the “MKO-Kingibe-Progress” hit which I only got to hear from schoolmates 21years ago and my curiosity got the better of me; I just had to finally put a video to the soundtrack I knew fairly well.
I must have written close to seven secondary school entry examinations in 1992 mainly for state and federal government owned schools inclusive of those administered by the military; the military held sway at that time so it was in a way a sensible backup plan for some desperate parents to potentially have a child in the military eventually just in case. My parents both attended boarding schools and were determined for all their children and wards to have similar experiences. Despite the number of examinations entered for, the goal was to do well enough at the federal common entrance examination in order to gain admission on merit into one of two choices made at the point of registration. Having the third highest score amongst candidates from my primary school was disappointing enough (24marks less than my older sister had 3 years before); this was soon followed by an extensive letter of admission into the Federal Government College Azare, Bauchi state. I remember my mother expressing her complete displeasure and assuring me that there was no way I would be off by myself to an unknown land. She already had a daughter in Akure causing her enough concern not to talk of transporting another child across the river Benue. She must have wondered to herself how those responsible for the admission process translated Lagos and Odogbolu to Azare; more disturbing to her was the fact that she could not do anything to alter what had been done. It was soon clear to all and sundry that the mismatch process affected a good number of candidates and it was widespread. Someone close enough to my parents informed them that the Federal University at Akure was starting a secondary school and in a flash my cousin, Tolu and I were rushed to take part in the entrance examination. To cut the long story very short, we were successful and moved into my aunt’s house in the Isolo area of Akure hopeful that the boarding facility promised by the school authorities would be established in only a short time.
The house we lived in for about nine months was still partly completed and one important facility missing was a television set. We spent a large chunk of our time after school outdoors tending to goats and chicken reared by my aunt. We ensured the animals were fed and regularly had to walk some distance, cutlass in hand to get fresh grass for the goats to eat in addition to fodder. We ate cocoa yam and water yam with palm oil some mornings; local rice and bush meat were common and we drank water from the “cleanest” well in the area. This was a modest life that thought me about hard work and contentment. The smell of harvested cocoa we spread out to dry and observing goats in the compound was enough entertainment for young boys like ourselves. I remember opening the gate to the house for a politician who had come to see my aunt’s husband late one day. The man appeared very tall to me and he did not come alone. It was later I was told he was a leading Ondo politician; Olu Falae. As the presidential elections of 1993 approached, it was difficult for my cousin and I to join our classmates in singing the popular jingle that was meant to herald the emergence of a new democracy that would deal the final death blow to the military. We did not know the words nor did we have a television to cure our ignorance.
The simple symbols and colors of both political contraptions in 1992/1993 could have been a source of genuine concern about the sincerity of the Babangida dictatorship. How difficult was it really to look at the Nigerian flag and coat of arms to extract two colors and two animals? There was arguably no ideology involved in the formation and membership of the SDP and NRC. Individuals only had to choose between wearing predominantly green or white colored “aso ebi” which perhaps corresponded to whichever side their allies or tribal and religious sentiments gravitated. It did not take long for the pseudo-foundation of “Hope 93” to evaporate and a brief cameo by a certain Ernest was truncated by his support cast. A Yoruba was deemed disenfranchised and duped of his rightful seat as head of government and his kinsmen scratched and barked at the new order led by the constantly goggled imperious General who many cried the cap fitted at one point in time. It was not surprising that the Yoruba exiles and pro-democracy campaigners voiced their desire for a Yoruba president when the opportunity came again in 1998 after the sudden demise of Sani. Chief M.K.O Abiola had died under very mysterious circumstances in the presence of American envoys on July 7, 1998; there had to be compensation for the ethnic group the man belonged to. Exhausted Generals set out for a final heist and together with the remnants of the political class from the first republic and more recent opportunists; they started the machinery for a transition to civilian rule. They soon degenerated to the structures they were used to and the parties formed were actually not different from those that existed before the civil war. It was all about ethnicity, religion, selfish interests and “padi-padi” all over again.
Our pulpits have been deliberately or otherwise used to showcase and promote ineptitude since 1998. It is normal to present political candidates before congregants as long as such individuals lay claim to a personal salvation myth and have the ability to utilize the right vocabulary. Many of our pulpits have been silenced ever since; consciences riddled with guilt and hands soiled with blood and gold. Those who speak either speak lies upon lies or the outright truth. Sadly, these very few truthful ones are tagged overzealous and jealous because of their reluctance to participate in the outward show of solidarity with people of supposed common faith. This is the same even with other religions, the volume of currency in circulation is choking those who ought to discern right from wrong and lead by example. A few minutes to address susceptible congregants followed by verbal onslaughts to force open heaven’s gates in demand for blessings and divine resources are all a politician needs to win and win again. What is the use of a debate when one could arrange a phoney interview or claim to be of the same stock as past globally acclaimed Nation builders and legends?
The textile industry appears to be thriving in Nigeria, I may be wrong. Clothes business is definitely serious business especially when it comes to Nigerians. From women programs in churches, to funerals, birthday parties and of course weddings; the idea especially with the more celebratory events is to outdo one another and identify with the celebrant(s). Family members and friends would usually have different outfits and whatever level of commitment exhibited could directly affect the kind of treatment given with respect to food, drinks and souvenirs. This culture is also practiced in our political space where one simply needs to show up in the colors of any party or be seen wielding their emblem to get a seat at the dining table. It is mostly all about interests and self-preservation. Anyone hungry enough at any given time to partake in a state or federal baked pastry only needs to wear the toga of the incumbent to get a share even if it is at the expense of losing all integrity (i.e. if present at all) and starving thereafter. The Alliance for Democracy joined forces with the All People’s Party in 1999 to defeat Obasanjo’s People’s Democratic Party. They failed and had to settle for the southwest states claimed largely on the reputation of the late and former premier of Western Nigeria: Obafemi Awolowo. The same AD then played the ethnic card for the 2003 polls. I still wonder what Obasanjo promised the Abraham Adesanya led party to cause them to suddenly start singing the praises of the man they never believed represented the interest of the Yoruba race. The AD were completely obliterated; well nearly annihilated except for the highly lucrative Lagos state which has since served as the springboard for the now chief defender of the Yoruba race to launch an audacious bid to recover lost territory.
Many have ascribed political genius to the incumbent President Jonathan for reclaiming an erstwhile PDP state and the recent impeachment of the former Navy commander turned governor. I believe he is simply utilizing the play book authored by the former president; General Olusegun Obasanjo. This tactic involves utilizing the state resources both human and monetary to entice, intimidate, blackmail or manipulate perceived rivals to alter their fashion sense all in a bid to secure a second term despite clear evidence of non-performance and incompetence. There are reports that the legislators and governors are giving their full support to someone they would not even employ to head their respective personal businesses. They must be doing this because of what they have already benefitted or what they may be planning to do if their candidate gets reelected. I have a feeling that the disgruntled ones amongst them may have struck temporary compromises that could be followed by chair pulling, frustration or actually unseating “Mr. Desperado” when they sense the moment is right; I may be very wrong. The fact that one gets other people to wear clothes made from his/ her selected material or color does not always translate to expression of goodwill.
I watched a news report on Channels TV about the Wives of Army officers who engaged some of their former members recently turned widows. The leadership of the association made up of wives of the top brass of the army were dressed in matching elegant outfits, green and red in color such that the widows were not equally clad in. I wondered to myself how those who were to receive packs of soap, foodstuff and some provisions would have felt in the midst of top class women whose husbands were never going to die again in the service of Nigeria. I thought the entire event did not showcase any form of unity or solidarity with the plight of those who had lost their bread winners most likely following the commands of the husbands of the elite women who had come before them. Would the soldier who are still alive witness this treatment of the widows of their departed colleagues and not sell out for better deals even from terrorists? It is the same practice at the local government, state and federal levels; elected officers who ought to be in the service of the people are seen parading like royalty with their pathetic subjects scrambling around to do their bidding even if it means trampling on helpless citizens. Government establishments are not also left out in this delusion of grandeur and even supposed pious religious leaders have their stooges readied in their quivers. This frantic hustle for stardom and supremacy is what the citizens get to observe daily till it becomes their ultimate desire; morals, values and ethics soon became obsolete and trashed.
Anyone who regularly operates in cyberspace especially on the more socially interactive platforms and Nigerian themed forums would observe that there is already a reprisal of the Nigerian civil war albeit virtual. Nigerians particularly the youthful are torn across ethnic, tribal, religious and political divides. The hypocrisy of all who support the present status quo and who live in denial of our precarious situation is as apparent as daylight. The question I ask is what exactly has bred and still reinforces such animosity despite the attempts to reconcile and overcome our differences. I do not quite have all the answers but I am certain the first answer is that there is yet no consensus on the legitimacy and viability of a Nigerian state. The traces of self-destructive prejudices and bitterness thought to have been wiped out or at worst suppressed over time have been transmitted as dominant or recessive traits to the offspring of Nigeria; those meant to be the future and hope for failed generations in our past. The past have taken the God given resources of the land to corrupt the future; they have denied their progeny of the needed nourishment and shut them out in the dark while they thrived in their insatiable lust and greed. The regular expression of ignorance and senseless rage in this virtual realm numbs the mind most times. I remember my first sojourn to the federal capital city in 2007, I looked with disdain at Abuja and thought to myself how much of a poor photocopy it was of what Lagos was meant to be; Lagos had in fact lost all glory particularly with the many decades of neglect and pollution. It would take more decades for total recovery I presumed. One needs to view the moral and intellectual decay exhibited by our youth and others on social media platforms from a similar perspective. How long would it take to completely salvage this chaos and correct the deliberate, calculated distortion of a potentially unstoppable generation? How is it going to be possible to redeem a Nigerian youth who recklessly berated and described Oby Ezenkwesili on facebook as a “g**damn bigotous f**l” because she suggested that the incumbent government used state funds to hire a foreign public relations firm to launder its image? This is someone that attended a federal college and is a graduate, possibly with a higher degree at that. Anyone who thinks we do not have issues should better arise to the reality that we do have very serious ones in fact.
Some of us had the privilege of attending federal government colleges that were established to heal the wounds of the civil war and forge everlasting bonds across differing tribes, tongues, genders and deities. We had color coded houses meant to give identity and allow for healthy competition and teamwork. We did sports, club interactions and had many other things in common. The millionaire’s son became best friends with the orphan; the Igbo, Tiv, Fulani, Egba and Benin boys all ate from the same bowl and played soccer on the same team. We did not care where our prefects came from; it was mainly about duty, responsibility and competence. At the end of the day into adulthood, the fair-skinned Yoruba girl said yes to the once skinny Igbo boy she knew when they were young. I do not believe we need to be homogenous to coexist, we need to understand our differences and quit wondering why others are dissimilar and expecting them to change for our convenience. We should instead harness our positive qualities and amalgamate them into policies and structures that would benefit maximally even the least amongst us. We can only be as strong as our weakest link; if we think any region is deficient in anything that is where significant attention ought to be directed.
Valentine’s Day of 2015 is approaching fast and many title contenders are actively stocking their war chests for the anticipated battle of wits and baboons. Placing a state under siege and having money, Oryza sativa and kerosene flowing about cannot be deemed as free and fair. It is understandable that many have already resigned to another four years of pain and embarrassment under the incumbent who has his foot on the state’s resources while a few others are now more than ever before convinced that it is now the right time to bail from the sinking Nigeria ship. I choose however to have hope yet again for another push. Hope that the ruling party would implode and have more competent people challenge for the party’s ticket. Hope that money or the promise of it would not determine our choices in 2015. Hope that the opposition would not trade again for secret favors. Hope that the issues that divide us are once again relegated to the background, even if what happened in 1993 was an illusion. Hope that I could witness presidential debates that would have a Raji Fasola take on a Goodluck Jonathan (my fantasy pairing). I must be dreaming and need to be drenched in ice-cold water from Antarctica. The incumbent have already placed their enforcers strategically to reclaim lost territory and consolidate Aso rock; we wait to see what transformation a former FRSC corp marshal will bring to aviation. The ”Frankenstein” opposition on the other hand are cowered in a corner and desperate to reprise whatever they did in 2007 to hold on and reclaim lost ground probably at the expense of providing a credible alternative to the abnormal situation that exists now. The incumbent readily point out the lack of ideology and manifesto with regards to the opposition as if it covers up for their own lack and proven case of cluelessness over the past 15years. They are presently giving the president kudos for giving the Lagos-Ibadan expressway a new look considering the fact that the road has been abandoned for many years. Was the road abandoned at any time by the opposition? More important than these Siamese twins, I hope the people will do the needful and at least sound it loud and clear that they are in control to the clique that has held us hostage and in shackles for these many years. The people should be mindful of food packs, credit alerts and souvenirs that would only spell doom for generations unborn.
There should be no room for any mistaken identity towards 2015 and regrets subsequently. No stories like “I voted for the man and not the party”; there is nobody without shoes anymore and the fellow who preaches that “common stealing is not corruption” cannot be regarded as humble or driven by love any longer. If individuals on corruption charges, previously convicted or of questionable character can receive state pardons or aspire for public office; Shekau could just about get away with the Premiership of Northeastern Nigeria if only he could dress up in the colors of any of our political parties and stroll into their conventions with his mammoth supporters and arm-twist or better still detonate his way to victory as long as someone’s 2015 dream becomes reality.
Nigeria, it is well with you.
Jide Akeju
24/July/2014.
