To consider the comforts of only the politicians … is as good as saying that the larger populace in the country works to keep the very few (politicians) in their cups and comforts. We will do well to remember that it was situations like those that bred (and buttered) French, Russian, etc., revolutions in Europe
When I heard about the Three and a half billion Naira severance pay that this nation’s foremost executive members had awarded themselves – president, vice-president, etc., — I literally did a flip. Now if you know me, I do not know how to do a flip, plus I consider that I am greatly disadvantaged by age and weight factors. So, you can imagine that what will make me do a flip must be a very serious thing indeed. This one was. Listen now while I tell you how it was.
Two days ago or so, I was in another city in Nigeria. Not being very familiar with the terrains of the place, I had to do most of my commuting by public transport. You remember what one wise man said: those who do much travelling are not given to sainthood. I’m sure I have muddled it up but never mind. If you want to retain your sweet temper about life, stay in your house. That reminds me of something else someone said: the only one not stepping on anyone’s toes is standing still.
Anyway, there I was walking down the road when, right in front of me, was this old woman. Normally, on their days out, old women carry little faded handbags, flat sandals, and shawls flung loosely around their shoulders as they wander around visiting those family members who insist on forgetting they are still alive. On the way, they could stop to admire the traffic in consternation as it whizzes past them and make comments about how you couldn’t get such things in their days and also wonder whether these things are as dangerous as they look. They might also offer pieces of advice to passersby who care enough for them, the advice that is, not the old women.
You are right; I am talking about how I would like to see the average old woman in Nigeria. Unfortunately, that is not the reality. The reality is rather like the one I saw that day. She was old, bent, thin, raggedly clothed and had on her head a tray of yams which she was hawking from door to door, street to street, and nothing to comfort her poor feet. I felt bad for my country. Now, we all know good yams are heavy; and I felt whatever had this woman at her age hawking these miserable things around (a dissipated youth, her care-free children, a childless condition) was not half as bad as what her country was doing to her.
Yes, she was at her job, plying her trade, but in no less way than Jonathan was doing. So what made her to qualify for less than what Jonathan got as president and now as out-going president? You could tell me she had no brains or brawns or even opportunities. I could very well tell you that most of us are probably not half as intelligent and definitely not as strong as that woman was. What you and I are enjoying wherever we find ourselves are opportunities dropped on our laps by Lady Providence, and you know how blind she is. Now, my problem is, how is it that we forget this as soon as we find ourselves occupying these somewhat exalted positions? Not only do we fail to do what we are expected to do there, we forget the core ethos that supports the spirit of the society: there is only one way to do a job – the right way. This is what makes the other credo meaningful: to do an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay. However, after providence has visited us in Nigeria, most of us prefer to do a day’s work for a decade’s pay.
Our cities are unfortunately filled with (old) women and men earning their livings in ways that do not pay compliments to our sanity. The situation represents our national shame and horror story when you contrast it with the incredibly humongous pay earned by our politicians because they know how to be elected and lie down by their swimming pools. And, oh yes, because they know how to do the midnight meetings thing too, when all human beings are asleep.
How on earth are we expected to improve our work ethos in this country when each day brings in more shocking revelations about what the leaders at the top are doing with the nation’s money? The labourer is worthy of his hire, not more. Yet, we all are not equitably remunerated according to the day’s work. The national assemblymen who have awarded and obviously continue to award themselves unimaginably huge pays in spite of all the national and international cries against them are really showing us how not to work.
Last week, on the 1st of May, we celebrated all workers; and that means celebrating us all, since we are all workers, from Jonathan down to the old woman. But we cannot celebrate our work attitude. People have repeatedly noted how this country is going under mostly because people are not doing their work. People are going around chasing things that they have no business chasing because those responsible are not doing their work; mostly because, I don’t know, flabby brawns?
The other day, someone reported that he had spent the entire morning of a day he was sure he would never get back staying at home to supervise the people who had come to sink a well for him in his house. The reason was simple. Water had never as much as spluttered into his pipes since he built the house. Some people on his street have water from the public mains all right; it was just that the water works decided to stop the supply at a certain point, just as public works department distributes amenities to only ‘big men’. Someone somewhere did not do his work.
I have always believed that national remunerations should be in full consideration of the comforts of both the least earning power and the highest grossing power to keep the economy balanced. To consider the comforts of only the politicians (because they have the ability to hold midnight meetings) to the detriment of the larger economy is grossly unfair. It is as good as saying that the larger populace in the country works to keep the very few (politicians) in their cups and comforts. We will do well to remember that it was situations like those that bred (and buttered) French, Russian, etc., revolutions in Europe. If it happened before, believe me, it can happen again.
Yes, that’s true, it happened on March 28th; but that was a revolution of the ballot box. We can have worse ones like the revolution of the gun. We pray it will not come to that. You and I both know that prayer is not enough. The country must find ways of helping the people at the top realise that their needs are no more special than those of the old woman in our story just because they have access to the tap controlling public funds and she doesn’t.
The way they think at the moment (the politicians at the top that is) gives me the impression that there are too many crooked brains in our midst. So, there we are, floating between crooked brains and flabby brawns without a leg to stand on. I think our main job now, with Buhari fully on board and all, is to find how we can make all them crooked brains straight and flabby brawns strong. Let’s get down to business. Happy Workers’ Day.