The life of a man consists of series of events. One of such is usually formed by childhood memories. Mine today comes from my time with my late grandfather, Isaac Ajuzie Nwambulo, in Amizi Isuogu in Ikwuano Local Government Area of Abia State. He told me many stories which were mainly anecdotes. He told me the tale of the bush fowl. He also told me the story of the chameleon. Today, I’m sharing the story of the chameleon. His narration of the life of the chameleon isn’t the same as those in the pantheons of the chameleon which we have heard in Yoruba mysticism. The chameleon called Agemo in Yoruba, stands tall among some of the people, and it is so revered that it is worshipped. That isn’t the path this writing is taking. The chameleon Isaac Ajuzie Nwambulo told me about did some other things.
Ogunwagalaba – the chameleon was a family man, my grandfather narrated. He took his children out one beautiful evening for a stroll and also in search of food. While on their outing, their father noted that it might rain. He had heard the signs and seen the sky. He called his wife’s attention to the signs and they both designed and agreed on how to tell their gaily children what might happen if the rain starts. They would also tell them what to do and how to do it. The elders already saw the danger, prepared their own minds and waited for the right time to tell their inexperienced children. Soon, the clouds became more obvious and the heavens gave out their verbal warnings through the loud thunder. The rain followed and a few minutes later, the erosion had formed and came rushing menacingly at them. The children had become fully aware of their predicament by now and obviously shrivelled in fear.
In their dread, they cried out to their father and sought their mother. They scampered in their delicate and slow steps towards their parents. They felt it was best if they ran for safety to their mother’s bosom. Of course the erosion cascading down the hill was much faster than the naturally slow chameleon children and would catch up with them if they continued. Their father knew this. Their mother also knew it. They both knew that their children would be in danger if they didn’t do something fast. Their father raised his voice above the din to advice the children. He shouted: “Stop scampering! Stop moving! Hold on tight and keep steady. Just hold on to something and hold on!”
Soon, the gawky situation was over. The rain subsided and the erosion rushed by. The chameleon children were safe. Having survived the ungainly situation, the chameleon family was together again, intact. It’s all good now and they are all together. “Why did you tell us to stop moving and hold on to something when the erosion was coming?” one bellicose child asked his father. The mother knew the child would ask questions and had sought to keep him quiet. But the father too knows the kind of child he has and was willing to educate him. He said: “I told you to hold tight. I told you to be calm and to endure the rushing erosion because of just one thing. That which rushes at us will also rush by. Things that happen hastily also finish hastily.” Ife n ji oku-oku na-agwu ngwa.
The English language often does not convey well enough the depth and meanings of some of these stories our parents told us. English language lacks the profundity of our languages through which they pass the messages in these anecdotes. The same thing goes for our rich, deep proverbs, cognomen and panegyrics. They are not mere words; they are words that come as picturesque presentation of life in ways the English man does not know it. That’s how beautiful our languages are. They are one of those elements that propel Nigeria’s unique identities, outside the blight of crime and criminal leadership. That’s why the Igbo described proverbs as the lubricant that helps words to grind smoothly. In succinct terms, the people say “proverb is the oil with which words are eaten.” This will not make any sense to a non-discerning Englishman. Kindly allow me to hide in that excuse to escape with my poor grasp of the English language. I know I would have told the chameleon story better if I was speaking in Igbo, and its import would have been more vivid.
“Experience, that most brutal of teachers… But you learn, my God do you learn,” says the legendary British clergyman and novelist, C. S. Lewis. The experience of eight years under the leadership of President Muhammadu Buhari can be likened to the hysteria that descended on the children of the chameleon. But, like the ogunwagalaba told his children, we must endure. Nigerians have come this far and must the remaining three months of the experience. At some point in the journey with the tough, no-nonsense, grossly misunderstood austere and unclear army general, millions had given up and resigned to fate. They have folded their arms, waiting for the time to tick out on the administration so that they can begin to re-plan their life. That waiting period is like weathering the gnashing encounter of the chameleon children. Nigerians will survive Buhari and his time over us too shall pass and we shall heave a sigh of relief.
For many things that come from the administration, Nigerians have lost hope and are no longer interested. They are just aloof and want to just hang in there to finish the endurance race which this administration has turned out to be. The past few weeks have been the nadir. The governors are in disarray and are now scattered like harnessed tobacco leaves. Things have fallen apart in the Nigerian Governors Forum. The centre can no longer hold in the fold of the governors. Individual governor-members of the forum now speak for themselves and not even for their states and for their peer-advantage. It is now politics or nothing. If the Governors Forum was anything near what many took the gathering to be before the descent of politics, it would have cautioned its members. That would have saved questions like: What exactly has the G5 governors accomplished?
The confounding currency situation would also go rushing past us like the erosion that threatened the children of the chameleon. It will become a memory for our children just as the 1984 currency swap experience returned to our thoughts afresh. We shall look back and wonder if it was indeed Godwin Emefiele and his central bank that owns the blame or the powerful people that another set of powerful people have not been able to name. That which comes in a rush will go past in a rush. All we need is endurance and hope.
We hope that the elections will hold as we have been repeatedly assured by the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) and its handlers. We hope that after the presidential election of the 25th of this month, the currency melee will be over and we shall pick up the pieces of our lives as citizens of Nigeria. We are conquered but we are not broken. We are defeated but not killed. We are not the man whose mouth is still dancing when his head had already been cut off. We are alive and we shall tell the story of this awkward rain of an awkward reign.
and then