My lords, isn’t this too much?

The title is a transliteration of a very common way of showing appreciation by typical Ibadan elderly women. When you hand them a monetary gift, they would collect it, genuflect in appreciation and also say a few words of prayer and praise. Some of the things they say include the rhetorical question: Oluwa mi, eyi o wa pòjù? They ask the giver if the money you gave them wasn’t too much. While at it also, clutching the cash firmly, they’d dangle the money questioningly towards you as if they are poised to let you have some of it back.

It is not really clear what that whole drama is usually all about, but a few things about that behaviour stand out. The obeisance that comes with the instant appreciation of the gift is usually heartwarming. Sometimes, it makes the giver feel like the receiver has made themselves eternally indebted to you. Then the part where the women ask if the gift was not too much always cracks one up indeed. If a giver of a gift in such circumstances like the ones we are talking about is incapable, he would not ordinarily outdo himself. He will not give like Mother St. Theresa of Calcutta advised. Mother Theresa said, “Give, give till it hurts!” If the giver is not in a position to do as Mother Theresa advised, then it is funny to ask them the question about their capabilities. But that question – eyi o wa pòjù – is way deeper and much more profound than merely probing the capacity of the giver.

If that question was just about the capacity to dish out monetary gifts, then the late Gbenga Adeboye Abefe would not have been recognised for a similar question. The legendary entertainer, comedian and MC, in one of his numerous skits and sketches, also asked: Oluwa mi, eyi o wa pòjù? He used the question to underscore the profundity of his comic reels, sketches and characterisations. He added depth to the question by making the refrain “Oluwa mi eyi o wa kàmàmà?” take the place of “eyi o wa pòjù?”

The question “Eyi o wa pòjù” leaves us at the ordinary level of a phenomenon being just “too much”. When Gbenga Adeboye came, he drove it further by taking “too much” deeper to make an act a phenomenal stuff. “Eyi o wa kà màmà” is the exclamation when the ordinary is done in an extraordinary way. The difference between the two contexts is that one is like saying ‘thank you’ while the other is like saying ‘thank you very much’.

When our lords temporal do what is phenomenal and beyond extraordinary, we will not only ask them if that wasn’t too much, we would ask them if their deed was not phenomenal. Our lords know themselves. Our lords know that we know them and that we know that they are reeling in shenanigans which make us to question their ability and capacity, and more importantly their sincerity. These lords, know when they leave us in awe with their missteps and breathtaking nonsense. They know when questions are unanswered about their sincerity in tackling festering insecurity and banditry in the country, but they have chosen to ignore all the signs and questions. Isn’t that too much?

Our lords temporal say we should not speak when we are kidnapped for ransom or as a game by armed terrorists. They have also deliberately refused to empower states to deal with insecurity in their own peculiar ways. This is not saying that the Kwara State government of AbdulRahman AbdulRazaq is not a lame duck, but the fact that it has made the people of the state easy targets is too much. In fact, eyi o wa kàmàmà…?

The nomination of ambassadors for Nigeria and posting them to their various countries of appointment is another kind of labyrinth. It is also another Oluwa mi eyi o wa pòjù scenario because our country is the victim here. It is just like the prevarication on the coup by those who should know. You say emphatic NO to the news of a coup and later admit that there was a coup and then put sixteen soldiers on trial through a court martial. Ó kà màmà.

In the third arm of our government – the almighty Judiciary, our lords there too cannot deny that all is not well in the chambers of justice. Tongues are confessing their disgust freely and many Nigerians are gasping in utter surprise at the many things they routinely hear about the temple of justice in Nigeria.

We had a senator in the Ninth Senate who once also voluntarily confessed that his beloved wife, an important member of the third arm of our government – indeed the President of the Federal Court of Appeal, was part of some undisclosed things he said they did through the law courts regarding their warped elections. The senator caused a stir at that event. He didn’t only embarrass Nigeria through the first arm of government which is the Legislature; he also thoroughly embarrassed his wife and what she represents. I’m sure the woman would have been wondering what might have gone into her husband so much that he was leaking secrets of the room. The affected lawmakers would have been muttering ’Oluwa mi eyi o wa pòjù’ in their muffled exasperation.

In Rivers State, a group of young male friends sat under a tree and recorded a video of themselves laughing at how they were being manipulated by the high and mighty people holding the reins of power their state. They sat and laughed loudly at the predicament of their state as orchestrated by their leaders through the judiciary. They said they had found themselves at their lowest in the state but lifted themselves with banters. These men made lighthearted jokes about a very heavy burden weighing down their state, saying the judiciary was like the anvil to wrought any needed tool.

In particular, they repeated one serving judge’s name, saying he is top on the list of the tools the Rivers politicians employ to judicially get their way through all sorts of territories. They said he had left their state now, and they can laugh. They would mention the name of the judge and descend into guffaws, repeating how much of a tool the subservient judge had been.

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To these Rivers State youths, it is ironic and sad that in Nigeria the courts would grant all kinds of injunctions grant terrorists freedom but detain protesters and punish civil disobedience. They are in sync with Youth in Process which said “court detains protesters, frees bandits, lets looters travel, ignores electoral glitches; truly an enabler of Nigeria’s problems.” Isn’t this too much, my lords?

Earlier in the week, Kano political lord, Alhaji Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso, watched helplessly how his dear anointed political son, Governor Abba Kabir Yusuf, stormed out of their home. He was utterly miffed too as Yusuf tore the mantle he gave him, threw the pieces in his face and picked a new one provided for him by his opponent, Dr Abdullahi Ganduje. It was a bitter pill and in his agony, Kwankwaso confessed openly like a withered witch.

While he rues this painful loss inflicted on his New Nigeria Peoples Party (NNPP), Kwankwaso said enough to warrant the exclamation: Oluwa mi eyi o wa pòjù but he soon drove us to the right destination. He told how he took his now estranged political son to the homes of the Supreme Court judges in their respective villages in the heat of the battle for their political lives. Kwankwaso said he went with Yusuf to “seek the support” of the revered Supreme Court justices.

So, it went as far as that? Now, politics of defective defections has exposed us to what they cooked which set the house on fire. The sad aspect of the Kwankwaso versus Yusuf war is that the Nigerian judiciary has received another layer of dirt. My lords, isn’t this too much… Oluwa mi, eyi o wa pòjù?

These ugly references to our judiciary remind one of “My Lord, Tell Me Where To Keep Your Bribe.” It was a poem by Professor Niyi Osundare which satirically lampoons the same Nigerian judiciary. That scathing 2016 attack of our lords is enough for the occupants of the house to scream ENOUGH!!! But we have been travelling on the same road, and we are fast approaching the 2027 electoral bus stop! My lords, it’s now too much. We have heard enough. We have had enough!