2019 elections of zero choices

“The eyes that have seen gelede have been to the very end of spectacle. What kind of country is this?”

“That was Ken Saro Wiwa’s last question at the gallows! I hope you are well?”

“I am just sick and tired of this PDP, APC, Atiku, Buhari noise. Buhari and Atiku again? Must we use dirt to clean dirt all the time? I now agree with those who say this country must go into some form of receivership or become a non-state.”

“It is tragic. You saw the PDP convention and how the elections went? Did that convention tell you anything about the future of values in this country?”

“PDP’s matter is somebody else’s mother’s corpse; it is a non-issue to me. Wherever the results went, there wouldn’t have been any difference. They are same of shame. The winners deployed money, raw unbelievable cash; the losers deployed blackmail- ethnically poisoned blackmail- and they were crushed. On both sides, what we saw were familiar faces with same rancid songs.”

“It is not PDP alone. It is the same with its nemesis, the APC. President Buhari launched his reelection campaign in Kano last week. You saw his massive almajiri crowd? They asked him to inflict himself on us again. Waifs and strays are the prized deciders of who rules our land.”

“Yeah, the president was very much at home with them. He was elated seeing the huge crowd, his usual Kano crowd. I didn’t hear him say anything lofty about the future of those almajiri.”

“He didn’t have to. You don’t start what you won’t finish in politics. The homeless are very useful already and they are not complaining; they are satisfied with the life they are living.”

“So, are we stuck with Buhari again?”

“Yes. And with Atiku and other members of their tribe.”

“But why? Can’t we get a better deal, at least for the sake of our children? This failed caste of politicians crashed the country and they are not done yet with the carcass…”

“But that is the lot of Nigeria. We are a drama of very few, revolving tragic heroes. You don’t think it is a curse?”

“I’m beginning to think so very strongly, my brother. Curses are viruses; they have compromised the country’s immune system. We are strange creatures. We invest in bad businesses and trust in persons undeserving of our trust. We believe always that any dude with crowds is a leader.”

“Exactly. Not all who can buy a car can drive it. Some are tragedies waiting to happen. But we not only license blind, deaf and dumb drunks as drivers in Nigeria, we actually make them pilots of public planes.”

“You are right. Some persons are natural passengers, passive spectators who should have no business running public businesses. They have no clue!”

“But don’t you think you are stuck with these old people because the ‘good’, ‘smart’ ones think they are too clean for public office? You remember the story of how the thorn-bush, bramble, became king of the forest?”

“That is a fairy tale – Once upon a time… .”

“All fairy tales start with ‘once upon a time…’ “

“Not all; you are wrong. A little girl once asked her father if all fairy tales begin with ‘once upon a time.’ You know the answer she got? The father told her: ‘Not all, my dear. Some begin with ‘If I am elected, I promise to…’ “

“Hahahahaha…That makes politicians fairies, evil spirits. The Yoruba call them irunmole.”

“Is that not a governor’s prized sobriquet?

“Yes. Irunmole that eats jollof rice…! They are many now. There is a smiling one now that creates graven images of Happiness.”

“Imagine. Never knew Happiness had shadows until that one unveiled them. Governance is fairy tale, truly.”

“But, are we going to continue like this? Even the elections that are coming, we already know the choices we have.”

“And they aren’t choices really.”

“Yeah. Closed questions. Head or Tail…It is Buhari or Atiku or their twin brothers. You wanted to tell a story…”

“Yes. Once upon a time…”

“Time! Time!”

“The trees desperately needed deliverance from the challenges of shearing predators. So they went forth to anoint a king over them. They commenced a search for the right candidate and found a worthy choice in the olive tree. And they said to the olive tree: ‘Reign over us!’ But the olive tree felt it was too useful and would have nothing to do with kingship. He said to the party appealing to him: ‘Should I cease giving my oil with which we honor God and men and go to rule over trees?’ No, he said. Then the trees searched further. They chose the fig tree and told him: ‘You come and be our king and reign over us!’ But the sweet, fig tree felt too much for the throne of the forest. He said to the trees: ‘Should I cease my sweetness and my good fruit and waste myself on the throne of trees?’ If the olive won’t yield and the fig feel too big, then the vine is worth trying.  Then the trees went to the vine: ‘Would you mind being our king?’ But the vine said to them: ‘Should I cease my new wine which cheers both God and men and go to sway over trees?’  You need dove but it is not available, the pigeon which is a good substitute is also on leave. What do you do when all you have are vultures and hawks? The feast must be made and what is available is meat. So, all the trees went to the prickly thorn-bush and asked it to be their king: ‘You come and reign over us!’ And the thorny one said to the trees: ‘If in truth you anoint me as king over you, then come and take shelter in my shade; But if not, let fire come out of the bramble and devour the cedars of the land!’…”

“I remember that story.  The person who told the story was wronged. He ended his tale with a curse- a scorched earth curse. People died, clans were wiped out. Fire came out of “bramble and devoured cedars.” The people chose the shade of the bramble as their refuge. That has been the choice we always make in Nigeria. We always make hollow men our kings — men chosen just because they can afford “threescore and ten pieces of silver” to hire “vain and light persons” as followers. I wonder what shade the bramble has. Is it not bush with thorny stems?”

“Hmmmmm…thorny shrubs are actually no nonsense plants, you know. They rule their world. They are tenacious, resilient. They hold and protect their territories; they don’t quit. They are deadly too. You try them to your sorrow.”

“Exactly why men of thorns can’t give happiness.”

“But they can build shrines for the gods of Happiness. The sad and sorrowful must go there to worship and drop something. The country is in deep shit.”

“The men of thorns are the past and the present.”

“They are also the future.”

“Wahala dey o. Must we always be slave to a past of failure and tears?”

“Well…A country is dead when all it has are faint and dying embers, mere memories of hope.”

“Exactly. Should we always be looking back on this journey.”

“ Reminds me of Jaloke, a lorry driver in the 1970s. He was brave and famous for always using the rear view mirror even when there was nothing to look at behind him. He would be climbing hills and would divide his attention between the front and the mirror. His passengers always wondered who was following him…”

“ Maybe his family witches and wizards were jogging behind his lorry. So, how did he end?”

“The hill became angry one day and rejected his lorry. It was like some forces were pulling the vehicle, doing tug of war with the driver. Jaloke tried his best, defying the forces, his right foot on the throttle, the other pumping something. His moving lips invoking the spirits. But nothing worked. In the end, he let go the lorry for its backward journey to tragedy. The vehicle landed with its roof in the river down the hill. It was a real calamity. People died, but the driver escaped. Some said he used egbe…”

“Egbe?”

“Yes, the magical powers that remove the initiate from danger.”

“Oh. Okay!”

“He escaped, and that was actually when he was nicknamed Jaloke (Fall-From-Hilltop). It was tragic.”

“ He escaped? Most bad drivers always escape the consequences of their failure. That explains why states are bankrupt and governors are throwing parties, opening personal mansions, fairy-tale castles. One day, we will all realize that we lost our country a long time ago. A nation is lost when it builds its future on selfish, greedy, incompetent men of the past. A country is dead when all it has are faint and dying memories of hope.”

“Those are strong words, bros. Stop talking about dying and hopelessness. Let us keep hope alive.”

“Hope is dead, bros; long dead!”