Category: Tatalo Alamu

  • Okon signs the register

    Okon signs the register

    After a period of deathly quiet as the biting economic condition took him out completely, Okon has suddenly regained his verve as two Yoruba titans joined their ancestors. As usual with him after recovery of the economic initiative, Okon began by taunting his boss and his race.

    Oga, una Yoruba people say na your turn, na you turn, now dat we come give una power, Yoruba people dey kaput yanfunyanfun”, the mad boy hollered with a great yawn.

    Okon, you are insane. These people died at ripe old age”, snooper retorted.

    “Ha, oga dem no be women and I no fit sabi if dem ripe or no ripe. Na Yoruba and dem Ibo people dey whack people”, the mad boy rejoined with savage relish.

    “Okon, you are beginning to grow wings in this house”, snooper growled as he searched for a weapon.

    “I no dey grow wing. Na only Yoruba witches dey grow wing. Calabar witch no get wing but dem get big, big  caterpillar teeth like dem shark for Bonny jeti,” Okon sneered as snooper chased him away.

    On Thursday morning the house bristled with unusual extra-curricular activities. It was the usual suspects of creek crooks, courtiers, courtesans and the paterfamilias of the periwinkles pabulum. They were all finely appointed with Okon resplendent in the silky apparel of a Calabar notable.

    Read Also: Okon brings small chops to his friend, Aremu, in jail

    “Ha, Etubom Okon, what is the occasion?” yours sincerely demanded with a mock grimace while avoiding the hostile glare of the ancient bootleggers who were already rocking on their feet.

      “Ha oga we wan quickly reach dem Victoria Island make man sign dem condomless book for dem Ogunbanjo man. Na better Yoruba chief and we like am”. Okon chanted excitedly.

    “What of Pa Akintola Williams?”, snooper demanded.

    “Ha, I reach him place last week and dem come drive man comot with broomstick just like dat”, the mad boy moaned.

    “What happened?” snooper asked.

    “As I enter, I come tell dem I be dem new Olori Ebi since papa don quench, so make dem clear way. Naim one big man in white wrapper come push everybody away and him come ask wetin I mean. I come tell am say I be grandson of William Gladstone Palmerstone of James town and…”

    “ Mr man, we no sabi dat kind Williams, you hear?” one woman screamed at me.

    “Kini gbogbo palapala yi?” another woman shouted as he come hit my head with a broom. Naim I come pick race and dem dey shout, ole!! Ole!!”

    “So what will you put in papa’s register?” snooper asked trying to suppress his mirth.

    “I go ask am make him give me dem better gold chain make I dey use chase Mushin women. And I go beg papa make him no come back to dis obodo land becos suffer go whack am well well”.

    On that note yours sincerely excused himself.

  • The exit of two Yoruba titans

    The exit of two Yoruba titans

    And whilst we are still on the subject of death and obituaries, the columnist mourns the passing of two Yoruba luminaries who departed to join their ancestors very recently. Pa Akintola Williams left us at the ripe old age of a hundred and four years while Chief Chris Ogunbanjo completed the movement of transition a few weeks short of his centenary anniversary.

      With the passing of the two titans, it is beginning to look like the end of an era, or what the French call a fin de siecle. The question on everybody’s lips is this: Where are the remaining Yoruba elder statesmen who dazzled the Nigerian firmament with their oracular wisdom, their charity, their humaneness and their Olympian composure?

    In a telephone chat with Pa Dr Michael Omolayole a few weeks back, the famed industrialist and revered guru of Labour conundrums, told this columnist that having delivered the birthday toast of Chief Ogunbanjo when he turned, sixty, seventy, eighty and ninety, he was actually at work with the centenary perorations. This was not to be as the old man slipped his earthly mooring last week.   

    Like ancient wine which gets better with age, the two gentlemen belong to the rarest and finest breed of humanity ever to grace the Nigerian scene. Both of them had reached the very pinnacle of their profession, with Pa Akintola Williams the acknowledged doyen of the Accounting Profession in the country and perhaps the entire continent and Chief Ogunbanjo unarguably the nation’s foremost corporate lawyer.

       With their oddly contrasting styles and temperament, the two great men were refinement personified, a class act to follow always exuding panache and immaculate good breeding. Pa Akintola Williams  reminded one of the quintessential English nobleman of impeccable pedigree and very old money. Dour, prim, proper and always soberly suited, there was a forbidding sobriety about him which did not oblige silly prattle and idle inanities.

    Read Also: ‘Legacies of Akintola Williams in capital market’

    In the case of Chief Chris Ogunbanjo, an extant picture of his birthday celebration two years ago with the late Otunba Sunbomi Balogun says it all. There was the grand old man swaying and swerving gracefully to the gentle cadence of hybrid music in the background.

    He was a natural aristocrat. Tall, regal, with refined good looks, there was a hint of imperious swank and swagger which survived till old age. Espying him from a distance, you always felt that the English aristocracy had something to learn from their Yoruba counterparts. As his Yoruba people will put, impeccable pedigree is not a purchasable commodity.

      Looking at a king’s mouth, no one would ever imagine that he ever suckled at it his mother’s breasts. Both men bore the tribulations that life threw at their paths with equanimity. In Chief Ogunbanjo’s case, he had lost a beloved son in law, an army major, to the abortive uprising against General Murtala Mohammed which cost the late military ruler his life.

    Informed military circles insisted that the late major was not part of the original group of plotters. Gregarious, fun-loving and generous to a fault, Major Ola Ogunmekan, aka Bros Ola, had lighted on the plotters in the early hours of the morning somewhere on Victoria Island as they made last minute preparations for a bloody assault on the citadel of power. He was confronted by the ultimate military conundrum and paid with his life.

    In every material respect and by any yardstick for measuring human distinction, Akintola Williams and Chris Ogunbanjo were supermen and authentic heroes of the Nigerian postcolonial society. They enriched life and living and ennobled human existence. Even in death, the abiding aura of their stellar presence will for long outlast their material absence. May their great souls find perfect peace.

  • Dystopia and the invention of Nigeria

    Dystopia and the invention of Nigeria

    • The road to Ihube

    Suddenly, Ihube has acquired a fearsome reputation and reinvention in the nation’s political imaginary as a secessionist stronghold; a hotbed of IPOB’s guerilla activities and a dreaded enclave of murderous abductors. The charred remnants of vegetation and incinerated farmsteads spoke to unrelenting aerial bombardment and a new passage of thunder. But the Ihube that remains in the imagination of this writer is totally different.

       Forty eight years ago when yours sincerely served as a Youth Corper in the area, Ihube was an idyllic and somewhat somnolent agrarian community lying just off the main road that connected Okigwe to Enugu through Awgu. The place was bursting with farm produce from the outlying villages. Just after the elite Ihube-Okigwe Boys Secondary School was a lonesome unpaved road that slithered through sand and dust to the Mbala-Ngodo-Isuochi community and beyond.

      If you kept going at it in the right direction, you might find yourself in Arondizuogu and its famed People’s Palace. The other direction might eventually land you in Orumba North  District and Alex Ekwueme’s Okoh community.

      Although the regnant scars of the civil war were still visible then, the remarkable people were making a remarkable comeback. It was only a question of a short time. Now, there is a clear danger that it may all end in tears again.

    Nigerians are an awfully inventing and inventive lot. In the course of inventing and reinventing others, they also get invented and reinvented. People and places and nations collect a lot of sobriquets, nomenclatures and nicknames in the course of their existence in most cases as a response to existential pressures and historical exigencies.

    Read Also: We’re ready to negotiate peaceful exit from Nigeria – IPOB

      All entities, both human and non-human, are constantly imagined and their images redrawn in the universal imaginary. It is said that those who enjoy raiding rabbit warrens also have their own hind thoroughly frisked by divine retribution.

      But while negative profiling and hostile “inventions” of others, particularly rival nations, is the norm in adversarial international relations, they can only stick if the reality on ground matches the adversarial portrait. No amount of “bad mouth” and negative profiling can remove the anodyne sweetness of honey, just as no amount of treatment and reprocessing can remove the sharp and nettling taste of raw pepper.

      By this same token, positive and imaginative self-profiling by a nation can only succeed if the reality on ground matches the self-projection.  For example, how did the word “Teutonic” come to be associated with German precision of tools and the ruthless efficiency of its industrial workforce?

      Originally, the word denoted a person of Germanic ancestry. But by the time the tough Germans erupted on modern civilization, the word had acquired added meaning as a result of steely performance based on rational evaluation and militant self-belief.

      The positive self-profiling by Americans of their country’s Exceptionalism, its manifest destiny as a covenanted nation and its occult valorization as a little city shining on the hills whose light cannot be obscured or occluded is validated by the concrete reality on the ground as America took centre stage as the global exemplar of a functioning democracy and accelerated national development.

    One sure thing about all this is the fact that stirring tropes are impossible without elite unanimity about the destiny of the nation.  This critical consensus among ruling groups is the glue that binds all exceptional nations together irrespective of ideologies: the western liberal democracies, Singapore, United Arab Emirates, China, Russia, Japan etc. Without it, nations merely toil in vain and are nothing but sheer geopolitical agglomerations of anarchic ethnicities such as we have in postcolonial Africa.

    It has been observed by some shrewd commentators that Nigeria is a wonderful tribute to the subversive genius of the colonial masters. If such a big resource-laden country in the heart of Africa did not exist in the colonial imagination, it would have had to be willed into existence by postcolonial patriots thrown up by the decolonizing project.

     Many have noted that this rosy projection exists mainly at the level of imagination and child-like fantasy. Out of nothing, nothing will come. The postcolonial elites of Africa have willed nothing substantial into existence and are unlikely to do so in the nearest future if the current political sterility, economic and spiritual anomie continue.

      All the extant nations on the continent, except Ethiopia, are creations of colonial fiat. No new African country has been created by pan-African concert and consensus.  Eritrea and South Sudan were international projects rather than local initiatives. In Nigeria, the continental behemoth, the major nationalities were boxed together and coerced into nation-hood by sheer colonial firepower.

     The attempt to sustain this colonial contretemps at the level of internal colonization by the last indigenous empire met with military doom on the plains of Jukunland, the Jos Plateau and the Osun River in what is known as Jalumi War. Thereafter, the local superpower resorted to political intrigues and subterfuge to recoup what it lost on the battle ground.

    This war of hegemony among the major nationalities in Nigeria, now overt and now covert; now brutally frontal and now by superb proxy is at the root of the dystopia which has made it impossible for the nation to make any meaningful progress since independence either on the political or the economic front.

      Elite consensus on the political and economic destiny of the nation is a prerequisite for any major economic or political breakthrough, particularly in multi-ethnic nations. This is why coerced national consensus, such as we have seen in Rwanda, Equatorial   Guinea, Namibia and Uganda, can feel like a harbinger of peace and prosperity.

       Unable to arrive at a consensus on any major national political project or programme for the economic resuscitation of the nation, the Nigerian elite resort to spectacular stealing schemes and raids on the exchequer so daring and outlandish that they must call to question the mental wellbeing of the perpetrators.

       But the chicks may be coming home to roost. The auguries are dark and foreboding. With the economy stretchered and on a life support machine, it is obvious that some endgame is approaching. The nation is roiling in dysfunction and disequilibrium. It will be foolish for anybody to dismiss this as mere apocalyptic scaremongering.

       Last week, the nation marked its sixty third independence anniversary in a dark and sombre mood. Almost everybody wore forlorn and mournful looks. With inflation hitting the roof and with the purchasing power of the national currency sharply reduced, it will require an economic wizard with formidable political balls to get Nigeria out of the wood.

      To compound and deepen the trauma of the nation is the political anomie foisted on it by an errant political class. Isn’t it a source of pain and misery and a fountain of national embarrassment that several months after a presidential election held and a winner declared, the main political combatants have refused to sheathe their swords?

      More than six months after, the rancor persists; the hate-filled propaganda and no-holds barred dissemination of fake news continues. The foul and fetid odor of political muck-raking assaults the nostrils at every turn turning the country into an object of international ridicule and global obloquy. Any rational objection to the theatre of political absurdity is met with indignant howls of derision and disdain.

      If you meet with the core supporters of the losing candidates and you insist that based on the current political configuration of Nigeria, the extant balance of electoral power, the patchwork alliances and the disposition of judicial forces on ground the outcome was unlikely to be different, you are likely to be assailed as an enemy of democracy, peace and progress.

    Amidst so many violently colliding notions of the truth and of justice and democracy, the invention and reinvention of Nigeria also proceeds apace. If this were to be a secondary school, even the senior prefect would have been subjected to brutal assault in the consuming chaos and anarchy of wild and untamed private desires.

       Politics is the canalization and channelization of wild private desires for public order and national good. In order to escape the Hobbesian state of nature such as we have in contemporary Nigeria and much of postcolonial Africa, individuals and groups must be willing to surrender their private desires for public good or it will be done for them by an implacable homogenizing Leviathan, failing which it will be the turn of disruptive forces of disintegration to try their luck.

    The impatience with natural disorder was what made Hegel, the great conservative German philosopher and ardent fan of Prussian military hegemony, to declare that what is real is rational and what is rational is real.

      A great nation is often the triumph of public order however harsh and autocratic over contending private fantasies however egalitarian and republican. The French and Russian revolutionists learnt this lesson the hard way.

       We can now begin to plot our way out of the conundrum and the paradox of a nation that underachieves where the state and modern governance is concerned but overachieves where individual talents and the exploits of private citizens are concerned. Immigration officials at global entry points who profile prospective entrants speak in unison of Nigerians and their proud, imperious and lordly bearing in contrast to most other Africans. That is not taught by the state.

      The spectacular explosion of talents in the arts, music, fashion and sports as well as the exploits of Nigerians abroad in their various fields of human endeavor speak to a fundamental disjuncture. Why is it that it is when the state and governance are left out of their business that Nigerians tend to come into their own?

      Do we then ask the stunted and underachieving state to leave us severely alone? Not so fast and not on your life. In the absence of a potent and viable state, Nigeria will become a nursery bed and humongous hatchery for transporting and exporting talents to more viable nations abroad. The remittances will dry up and stop completely in the second generation. This is the iron law of emigration.

      The problem with the postcolonial state in Nigeria is the weak national consensus on which it is anchored and the genetic indiscipline of the political elite. Rather than retreating in order to live to fight another day, the opposition appears bent on bringing the roof down. In the controversial presidential election of 2000, Al Gore was the winner by more than half a million votes and was only denied the presidency by some electoral skullduggery.

       But he bravely and nobly refused to bring the system down. The nation was far more important. The Democrats went back to the drawing board and kept at it. Eight years after, they emerged from the shadows and through the instrumentality of the Barack Obama phenomenon they were able to put the Republicans out of their misery. The ping pong has continued.

       What Nigeria needs is urgent constitutional reform which is impossible without fundamental elite amity. Our brothers, sisters and compatriots from the east should not allow their people to be made to carry the can for a dysfunctional and malfunctioning Nigerian postcolonial state once again. Their leading lights must come up with a comprehensive blueprint for achieving peace in the restive region. This writer counts many of them as his personal friends. The bloodletting and economic self-emasculation has gone on for far too long.

  • Taliban Times and Wigless Wonder

    Taliban Times and Wigless Wonder

    • As Baba Lekki surfaces

    As rogue elements within the Police Command continue to harass and extort money from innocent ladies under the guise of checking indecent exposure, snooper was sure that this criminal abridgement of fundamental human rights must come to grief very shortly. Either the women would organise themselves into an invading force or they would collectively invoke the ancient curse which would see many policemen reporting missing vital organs.

        When snooper was contemplating this scenario, we did not reckon with the antics of the old hell-raiser and itinerant freedom fighter. Before then, the fear of the police was the beginning of wisdom for scantily dressed ladies.

    Despite the strong retraction of the state government and the police that they had nothing to do with this ritual of medieval shame, the practice has continued with relentless and often comic ferocity. Snooper watched the police frisk some young women around Ikeja, and it was not a funny sight at all.

    Read Also: Bandits kill five, abduct housewives, others in Zaria

          Last week, the superman finally came to the supermarket. It was said that the police arrested an old hag provocatively dressed and bundled the harridan into their jeep. As they began frisking the suspect, the wig, false teeth and powder started coming apart revealing a very old man.

         “Kai, mona, dis one na mammy water !!!!”, the constable screamed as he jumped out of the moving vehicle. The vehicle was quickly abandoned by the absconding cops, leaving an old man screaming at them in triumph.

    “ Come oo, officer, come oo  abi you no wan do again, abi old woman abunna no sweet pass your mama him pabanbari? Abi una Kukuruku blokos no fit wire for dem karuwa sam sam? Omo ale!!!” he jeered at the fleeing cops.

    A huge crowd gathered and began hailing the liberator. Lo, it was Baba Lekki.

  • An evening with Wale Adenuga

    An evening with Wale Adenuga

    • An anniversary combo for compatriots

    To the impressive Eko Convention Centre and its grand banquet hall this past Sunday evening for the annual Nigeria Comedy Awards hosted by Wap Television and its boss, a childhood crony and cherished acolyte of the columnist.

       WAP is the acronym for Wale Adenuga Production an octopoidal empire which includes a regular television station, a film school, a drama group and franchised satirical revues. By matrimonial extension, it also boasts of a thriving educational complex which includes both primary and secondary schools.

    Comedian, cartoonist, satirist, writer, critic, educationist, acute entrepreneur and aficionado of the arts and harvester of its glorious talents in Nigeria, Wale Adenuga is something of a human blockbuster. But he is averse to and intensely disdainful of publicity and all hints of self-commemoration.

      Quiet, retreating and evasive to the point of self-erasure, Adenuga does not welcome social lunchers. He does not grant interviews. He does not talk to the press. Even this write up had to be literally coerced when yours sincerely fired off a warning salvo to the multi-talented merchant of humour that there was no further space for him to hide.

       It elicited a grumpy grunt which cut no ice with yours sincerely. The prim and proper master comedian with the pious and reassuring manner of an elder laity from the Divisional Diocese is something of a massive contradiction. How a man with such a stern and forbidding public visage could dish out such masterpieces of outlandish humour, such comic caricature, such Rabelaisian ribaldry, remains a subject of mystery.

       On this morning of our sixty third anniversary when it is important to wish the nation well and pray for a new beginning with the new administration, it is important to stress that if ever Nigeria is going to get out of its political misery and developmental trauma, we must face squarely the problem of how to harness and harvest the major resource that this country has going for it. 

    It is neither petroleum resources nor other minerals. It is human resources at its most incredible and outlandish. Nigeria’s capacity to produce talents in the most diverse fields of human endeavor is astonishing and even stunning to say the least. It is, as they say of the Dutch fiasco, an embarrassment of riches and a scandal of nature.

      Nature played a spoiling mother to early Africans by providing them with everything they needed without much effort thus turning them into an idle, indolent lot.  Our colonial masters capitalized upon this by creaming the riches off while turning us into superstitious over-religious eunuchs at the mercy of spiritual sadists.  We will be lucky if the same scenario is not repeated at the level of human riches.

      As it was in the beginning, so it is turning out to be at this late phase of industrial capitalism. When Pliny the Second noted that something new always came out of Africa, he was not just referring to the endless supply of oddities and oddballs from Africa that graced and entertained the Roman Imperial court but the retinue of  artists, entertainers, writers, philosophers, artisans and military commanders of African extraction who provided crucial services to the Roman empire.

    Read Also: Wale Adenuga inducted into Comedy Hall of Fame

     Almost two thousand years after the collapse of Rome, the cry of “I want out” pierces the African collective atmosphere just as body bags of drowned migrants litter the North African beaches. Nigerian authorities must summon their reserves of visionary strength and courage to make the home environment more conducive for their restive and restless youth before the blessings of human gifts turn into a national curse once again.

      The explosion of talents was very much in evidence in that commodious hall last Sunday as Adenuga, resplendent in native apparel of a snow white hue, together with his beloved wife, welcomed guests and cultural workers of various shades. Only the calm, paternalistic mien of the ace producer prevented the more excitable of the lot from mobbing him. The reason would soon become apparent.

        In keeping with his steely resolve to keep what personally concerns him out of public glare, it was only while reading through his address that Adenuga revealed that the day also coincided with three landmark events in his own life: First, it was his seventy fifth birthday anniversary.

      Second, it was also the forty eighth anniversary of his wedding to his beloved beau, Ehiwenma, a no-nonsense matriarch of Edo provenance and course mate of Adenuga at the university, whom he described as his beautiful jewel of inestimable value. Finally, it was the 20th anniversary of his Film institute and the launching of his autobiography.

      For a man who has chalked up so many spectacular achievements in a lifetime, Adewale Adenuga remains a model citizen: austere, humble and unassuming. He was born and initially raised in the famous junction town of Gbongan by parents of Ijebu extraction. Gbongan township was a wonderful replication of the early possibility of postcolonial Nigeria.

       Almost every homestead could boast of at least one or two professors. Even the last two sovereigns were notable academics and professors in their own right. It remains an intensely competitive environment where the hunger for learning and western education burns in every household with an incandescent glare. Unless you are comfortable with excommunication at a certain social level, academic failure was not an option.

        It was in this book-besotted milieu that our paths first crossed as young children learning the ropes of western education. We attended the same Primary School. The older Adenuga was arguably the richest business tycoon in the area with interest in real estate and tobacco franchise. That was until his ever expanding business empire as the main distributor of NTC products forced him to relocate to the bigger and more economically viable ambience of Ile-Ife.

      But the Adenuga clan left a memorable landmark behind for posterity. Up till this moment, there is a vast enclave on the old outskirts of Gbongan township that goes by the name of the progenitor, a firm, unsmiling man of disobliging visage who could suddenly launch into terse aphorisms in his native Ijebu dialect which cut through tonnage of verbal waffles from the importuning natives.

      Wale was as studious and brilliant as they came. His calm impassive exterior often gave way to hilarious jokes and comic sighs among close friends and acolytes. Not many people are aware of this or the fact that the man who would later gain national prominence as the owner of the Ikebe franchise boasts of an impeccable academic pedigree.

        Adenuga caused quite a regional stir by recording the best result in the entire Ibadan district in the 1967 WASCE. From the unfancied Ibadan City Academy, he made Aggregate 8, four A1s and two A2s to trump students from the more famous secondary schools in Ibadan.

      A local newspaper trumpeted it with the banner headlines: Adenuga On Top. Many decades later, yours sincerely would  get into an argument about this remarkable feat with Adeoye Roluga, an old boy of Government College Ibadan of the same set and later General Manager of Newswatch magazine, who pooh-poohed the idea as a piece of fiction.

      A few weeks after, Roluga , who was later to succumb to Covid-19 while on a brief visit to Nigeria from the US, accosted yours sincerely at a public gathering and apologized profusely. He was wrong. From Ibadan City Academy, Adenuga went on to Kings College for his A-Level from where he gained admission to the elite Business Administration Programme of the University of Lagos.

      Upon graduation from the university, the conventional expectation was that the young Adenuga would team up with his aging father in the family business as the obvious heir. But he decided to strike out boldly on his own by launching the Ikebe franchise which became an instant national hit. From there on and forty seven years after, Wale Adenuga has never looked back. It was a visionary decision and a moment of divine epiphany.

      As recipients of awards in various categories came on the stage last Sunday night to sing his praise and to shower him with encomiums for rescuing them from a life of unworthy and toiling obscurity, Wale Adenuga must have felt a tinge of happiness and inner satisfaction at his decision to become a humour merchant and a fisher of talents in a famished sea bristling with man-eating spiritual predators and other social piranhas.

      Stars after stars and budding humour impresarios tumbled out of the shadows to collect their awards and cash gifts. In all, two particular recognitions struck an unforgettable chord in this writer. One was the boy-comedian, a future star to watch out for, who stormed the stage and seized the microphone to give a brilliant impromptu delivery of gratitude full of swank and spunk. He went home with a million naira.

     The other was the posthumous recognition of our late kinsman, the unforgettable Gbenga Adeboye of blessed memory, a phenomenally talented humorist. The plaque and cash gift went to his estate through the courtesy of his winsome daughter who gave a moving speech. May Nigeria’s ever busily running tap of talents never run dry. And here is wishing Wale Adenuga many more years of productive services to his beloved fatherland.   

  • An Executive Outcome in Russia

    An Executive Outcome in Russia

    While this column was away, so many things happened on the global stage to remind us of unfinished business and of the New World Disorder predicated on the collapse of the Soviet Empire and the decline of America’s global suzerainty.

      But the construction of a new global hegemony takes its time and decades to figure out. It will be foolish to ever imagine that the old superpowers are completely finished. Both America and Russia can still pack a thunderous punch. A sprightly donkey in its prime is still no match for an ageing hamstrung horse when it comes to racing.

       In a testy exchange with James Boswell, his lifelong collaborator and faithful Scottish amanuensis, Samuel Johnson, the Dean himself, once exploded that there was no point in settling the order of precedence between a flea and a louse. Both are undesirable vermin.

     Johnson was an infamous snob and English supremacist who often ticked off Boswell with cruel condescension over his Scottish antecedents. Boswell once ruefully and tearfully pleaded with his master that he could not help being a Scot. “Sir, that is what a great many of your countrymen cannot help”, Johnson shot back with merciless abrasion.

      But it would seem that in this matter of settling the order of precedence over two age-old professions, Johnson has a point.  Which is the world’s oldest profession? Prostitution or mercenary arms- bearing? Both mercenary soldier and the prostitute belong to the same profession. The prostitute sells his/her body while the mercenary soldier offers his military endowments for sale.

       While prostitution has a claim to being the older franchise since it has been with us from the dawn of human society, mercenary soldering is not far behind. Every great army had its mercenary corps, either as expendable storm troopers or as dependable guards of the rear.

    Read Also: Ukraine, Poland to boycott UEFA competitions with Russian teams

      Some of the greatest soldiers that the world has known started out as mercenaries. But can “comfort women” abducted against their wish to service servicemen during wars be called prostitutes? And can a soldier who demands for wages for fighting to defend the geopolitical integrity of his nation be anything other than a paid patriot?

      It is within this semantic quagmire that one must situate the tragedy of Yevgeny Prigozhin, the Russian mercenary patriot who recently perished as the aircraft bearing him and some principal members of the Wagner Group to St Petersburg exploded mid-air spluttering to earth in a huge fireball.

    A reconditioned thug and serial criminal in an earlier incarnation, the highly combustible fellow had seen several memorable and stirring actions at the behest of his country on several fronts as a paid volunteer. But he ran afoul of the Putinist state and the rest can best be described as an executive outcome.

      Remember Executives Outcomes? It is a private military outfit founded in South Africa in 1989 by Eeben Barlow, a former Colonel in the South African Defence Force. Its main aim was to prevent state decapitation in Africa by irregular forces.  Before it was liquidated and reestablished in 2020, it saw action both in Angola and Sierra Leone and was quite helpful in preventing the capture of Freetown by rebel forces during the country’s civil war.

      But a mercenary group remains a mercenary group. Prigozhin was a brave and plucky fellow, but he was not very intelligent. Military threats are useful only when issued against a weak and irresolute enemy and not a punitively proactive modern Russian state whose reputation for coldblooded reprisal against errant nationals remains unequalled in the annals of state elimination.

     You cannot bluff your way past a hard and ferociously determined hyper-statist like Vladimir Putin.  By challenging Putin and the Russian armed forces to a duel, Prigozhin had merely signed his own death warrant. It was like a man who challenged his own chi to a wrestling contest. It was only a question of time before his prayers were answered.

      It was the sharpest and clearest suicide notice in the history of individual confrontation with an imperial and imperious modern state. As a stern survivalist who places much premium on his own leash on power, Putin knew that to ignore the open challenge from the former pickpocket was to open a gaping hole in his own escutcheon.

       Despite its bluff and bluster, it was not as if Prigozhin’s ragtag mercenary force represented any serious threat to Putin. The danger was that his temerity could trigger a far more definitive eruption from the Russian armed forces which could upend the tenure of the former security kingpin. With the brutal manner of the elimination of the boss of the Wagner group, it is now obvious that Putin’s successor is unlikely to come from regular and normal elections or from Russia’s atrophied political and civil society.

      Two provisional conclusions can be drawn from this development. Liberal Democracy as it is known in the west is dead and buried in post-Soviet Russia. It never stood a chance on a barren patch shot through with the vestiges of oriental despotism. Second, all the talk about “end of ideology” and the dawn of a new phase of human existence was mere western propaganda, dead on arrival.

      Ideology survives and thrives in Russia and it is powered by a Pan-Slavic hyper-nationalism. With the murderous stalemate in Ukraine and Putin’s imperious and moody assertiveness everywhere else, it is proving far more potent and dangerous to western civilization than old communism. It is the cunning of history once again.

  • In and out and their in and out

    In and out and their in and out

    The Thrills and Perils of Punditry

    I we return to these exertions this morning with considerable relish and trepidation. Relish because it often gives one secret thrills to be part of an elite corps of literati who shape human consciousness and are at the cutting edge of civilization in one’s society.

       Not everyone is so opportune or endowed by nature. Often, one must give back to society in full the special bequeathal of nature with malice towards none and with charity to all. The message supersedes the messenger. The encomiums and commendations one often receives; the awe and reverence from total strangers and the anonymous writers association of Nigeria make it worth the pains.

       The sad obverse of the coin is the rise of the commentariat of adversity, a new type of sewage journalism which combines class and ethnic angst and thrives on the most uncouth language and bovine rudeness. It gives and takes no quarters. The wild primitive anger and aggression make the bone to creak. Exhibiting a neurotic, hate-filled contempt for the old ethos of the profession, it fakes deep and lies cheaply and is not in the least embarrassed when called out.

      It beats the imagination that in the name of free speech and democracy, people could go to such lengths to prevent others from airing their own legitimate views. This paradox of authoritarian freedom-fighting is too finely nuanced to make any impression on them. And since they operate from the ethereal zones of national consciousness, no amount of pleadings and remonstration can rein them in.

      Two things account for this untoward sociological meltdown. First is the revolution in the means and mode of mass communication which makes everybody with access to the computer a journalist. An army of ferocious fighter ants has taken up permanent residence inside the computer keyboard, stinging and stunning many of their opponents to silence and stupefaction.

    With this massive influx and the proliferation of partisans, the ethos which held the old profession together has been flushed down the drain. While this has kept governments on their toes, it has also forced them to resort to more undemocratic means of mass control including the refinement of the mode of hegemonic domination and power praxis.

      The other development is the increasing polarization of the nation along ethnic, political and religious lines. This is due to the mismanagement of diversity. Nigeria has never been more bitterly divided in its postcolonial history than at the moment and the National Question more sharply accentuated. Deepening economic woes will compound the cocktail of resentment unless government quickly comes up with some meaningful amelioratives.

     As we write, a posse of security operatives comprising of people from different sections of the armed forces had been ambushed and completely decimated somewhere in Imo State which appears to be the epicentre of the insurrection. The east bleeds and the nation hemorrhages. Nobody seems to command the trans-generational authority which age, wisdom and achievement tend to confer anymore.

        In Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, the breakdown of authority and the passage to anarchy is presaged by a nervous insecurity and the fear of doing or saying what is right. Thus Ezeudu, the oldest man in the village and its most decorated warrior, could only go to the home of the hero in the dead of the night. “That boy calls you father. Do not take part in his death”. Those who argue that elections do not solve National Questions and may only exacerbate them may have a point.

    Read Also: 100 Days: For Otti, morning shows the day

       In contemporary Nigerian journalism, a week away from your table can seem like two decades. Despite giving a long notice of going on a well-deserved leave, the conspiracy theory began surfacing all over again barely two weeks into the disappearance of column and columnist.

     Some alleged that one had been sighted heading back to the village at the back of a trailer. Others claimed that one had been banished to outer Siberia by the new powers that be on the ground that one sounds like a potential coupist. A third group insisted that one had been offered a choice between exile and hemlock. It always feels as if one is part of a sizzling epic movie.

      Sometimes the inquiries can be dramatic and of an intensely personal nature. An adored protégé of snooper, now a professor of English at Ife, who recently charged the columnist with the equivalent of ideological decrepitude and got the roasting of his life seemed to have lain low for some time.

       Then he erupted again wondering when the aging duelist would return to the ring. Snooper responded that he was still nursing the bruises and hen-like scratches from his likes. The doyen is equipped to withstand bruising encounters, the impish rascal retorted, with literary patricide obviously on the menu.

      And it could get very hilarious. Another former student of yours sincerely, now a notable columnist with the Nigerian Tribune, wondered when his former teacher would print a card bearing the insignia of “F.O.P” (Friend of the President). Anybody who remembers the political misadventure of Otunba Fashawe from Owo in that respect can come to their own conclusion.

       Apropos of that, when yours sincerely finally made it to the fabled Aso Rock to felicitate with the current occupant, one had remarked to the president that it was his first time in that hallowed sanctuary of the Nigeria state. The president chuckled and noted that it was because one had been playing opposition politics all his life.

      Far more poignant was an exchange with an intellectual fan and dedicated reader of this column, a head of the department of Political Science in one of our northern universities. The gentleman who sometimes fires off well-judged and well-reasoned rejoinders to the column accused the writer of depriving him of his intellectual nourishment on Sundays and wondered how much longer the famine would last.

       The frenetic and frenzied pace of events in Nigeria as they unfold, the lunatic cadence of existence and the sheer perversity of certain developments make it impossible for many not relocate to the realm of malignant fantasy. As they say in America, stuff happen all the time in this remarkable land.

       There are things happening in contemporary Nigeria which would have been unthinkable a generation earlier. There is hardly enough time left to take in all these developments in their cascading and contradictory momentum. Our wager is that the country is roiling in the confusion and combustion that must presage radical change.

      The truth is that there is no truth in the pure sense of the word. People of power and with power simply impose their version of the truth and ask everybody to get on with it. It does not matter what you feel. Whether you truly believe in what you are told or you don’t, you must get on with it. In the long run, what matters is for individuals to identify a set of precepts by which to live and hold on to this tenaciously till the bitter end. The unprincipled life is not worth living.

     In the course of human evolution from our animal cousins, the true heroes of society are often not the wielders of transient power but those who set out to raise the barrier of human consciousness and the bar of public probity in such a way that humankind is able to lift itself to a higher telos. Despite the persistence of human savagery, the startling advances human civilization has made in the last millennium has been due to the heroism and the self-sacrifice of these exemplars. No society can inch forward without authentic heroes.

    Let us leave with the paraphrase of Leon Trotsky, one of the greatest revolutionists of all time. “ As socialists we want a socialist world not because we think the world will be any better—such claims are best left to dictators—, but because we feel that the moral imperative in life is to raise the human condition even where this means no more than that human history has merely progressed from farce, monstrosity to tragedy itself.” 

    Trotsky lived and died by his own credo. He was never going to surrender to what he thought was evil. Credited with some of the most astounding victories of the Red Army in the desperate struggle to establish communism in Russia, he resisted Stalinist autocracy until he was expelled from Russia. When the end finally came in Mexico, he charged furiously at his assailant who had gained entry by deception even as blood spurted from an ice axe stuck in his cranium.

  • So long, Monsieur Jacques Foccart

    So long, Monsieur Jacques Foccart

    As French dominion in Central and West Africa begins to unravel in a fiery cocktail of coups and social combustions, we cannot but recall the life and times of Jacques Foccart, the master French spook who masterminded his country’s intrigues and sinister manipulation of its African holdings (pun is intended) for the greater part of three decades until he died in 1997.

    He was the ultimate Mr Fix-it. Furtive, ruthless, coldblooded and point-devise, Foccart “ran” his African boys so well that peace reigned supreme among the native honchos. Anyone that stepped out of line was threatened with the Ruben Um Nyobe treatment. Nyobe was the Camerounian political leader who was shot and killed by a French special agent deep in the forest of his home region in 1958 and his horribly disfigured body dragged through the forest just to make a point. 

    The Dark Continent became a hunting ground for the aristocratic elite of the country of Liberte, egalite and fraternite. African diamonds flowed freely to the Parisian saloons and its lithium, uranium and copper extracted cheaply and with African labour were sold on the international market at premium price. Some humans were obviously not part of the deal of the French Revolution.

    Read Also: My ambition now is supporting Tinubu to succeed – Yahaya Bello

       Some centuries ago, L’Ouverture Toussaint, the great Haitian revolutionary leader of African descent, warned the new French aristocracy not to replace the aristocracy of class they had just overthrown with the  aristocracy of race. But the great man was stuffily ignored. For his pains, he was impounded and taken into custody.

       As the last bastion of French dominion faces a humiliating meltdown reminiscent of the military disgrace the South East Asians handed out to them in Indochina almost seventy years ago in Dien Ben Phu, you begin to wonder why those who claim to be at the cutting edge of civilization have refused to learn from history, particularly their own history. Stuck in their old military convention about what was tactically possible, the French military leadership was outwitted and their forces made to eat the crow.

       When the French authorities insisted that they would not obey orders from the coup leaders of Niger Republic on ground that it is a government of constitutional usurpers lacking in legitimacy, they had forgotten that modern governance in France itself rests on the military coup launched against the dissolute French revolutionaries by General Napoleon Bonaparte in 1799.  It was famously dismissed as a tragedy by Karl Marx.  

    As the tide of history turns once again against his beleaguered country in what must be a great reckoning on the arid patches of Sahelian Africa, the young, callow and inexperienced Emmanuel Macron must be wondering when another Foccart will come to the aid of his country as it heads for the canvas. But there is time for everything under the sun. So long then Monsieur.

  • Okon brings small chops to his friend, Aremu, in jail

    Okon brings small chops to his friend, Aremu, in jail

    To Awolumate Maximum Security Centre where Okon has been having a running battle with officials for two days over his insistence on seeing an important state detainee that he claimed had been hauled in in the middle of the night three days earlier on the suspicion of inciting the military to insurrection. Okon claimed that his friend’s life was in acute danger if he did not receive his medication for logorrhea and multiple incontinence and the small chops of squirrel meat he was very partial to.

      “Oga, I sab dem man you dey talk about. We no get am. But we don dey expect am anytime. I don prepare him room. I don tell dem boys make dem look for yellow ants make we put am under dem bed. When dem bite him blokos finish him go no say you no dey do shakara for dem gobment. Last time around dem mala kukuma kaput am. This time him go no say Gambari fit kill Fulani  “, the supervisor, a gap-toothed rogue with a sinister affability, noted as he rubbed his hands with savage relish.

      “ Liar!! Stupid stinking Yoruba liar. So who be dem man dem bring in for night and him de scream and him de bite everybody like dem digbolugi dog?” Okon raved at the man.

      “Oga, no be like dat. Dat one na General Overseer for Okokomaiko church and him dey cry awonlokan, awonlokan. And I don oversee am with dem bilala. Walahi, him come dey see vision as I dey wire am”, the mad rogue sniggered.

    Read Also: 100 Days: For Otti, morning shows the day

       “Wetin him do sef?” Okon asked trying to be firm and unsmiling.

       “ Na 419 him dey do for him own people. He get time like dat him dey charge one million from anybody who wan talk direct with dem God. Proper gbajue as dem Nobel Lawrence go call am”.

     “You see if to say I be Yoruba man now and I come dey speak dem gbegiri language, you for allow me to see dem man. Na Yoruba people dey scatter dis dem kontri “, Okon whimpered in frustration as he tried to play the ethnic card.

       “ Ha oga mi I no be Yoruba man oo. I be Kukuruku from Ibilo even though we dey bear dem Yoruba name. Even dem man you dey talk about no be him dey abuse dem obonge Yoruba oba?”, the rogue supervisor demanded from Okon.

        “Na for inside cell we go settle am dis time around. My kabiyesi don curse am with werewere”, one man jeered from inside one of the cells and then lapsed into pure Sepenteri dialect. Aati yan bata soro babanla baba were ee”.

     From inside one of the cells, a distraught detainee suddenly unleashed a staccato burst from a semi-automatic weapon sending everyone scampering for safety.

  • A great reckoning in a small room

    A great reckoning in a small room

    Last Thursday, the outgoing president of the Federal Republic, Mohammadu Buhari, conferred the highest national honour on the incoming president, Senator Bola Ahmed Tinubu. Something far more profoundly symbolic than the conferment of national honour took place. In spite of himself and the widespread disappointment with his tenure, General Buhari might have succeeded in laying the foundation for a new political order in Nigeria.

        The way all this has come about may wrong foot even the most astute social scientist or patriotic political pundit.  The social space abounds with such intellectual casualties. It is the way of all flesh to allow our prejudices and biases to impose their own schema on the outcome of events and to totalize what is still unfolding.

    But history is not anybody’s favourite uncle. It obeys only its own schedule and punitive time frame. Those who have tried to alter its course, however heroically, have always brought severe retribution on themselves and their people.

      There is a cruel and almost clinical symmetry to events unfolding in Nigeria that has left both partisans and naysayers gasping for breath. Thirty years after President Buhari’s military nemesis and bête noire, General Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida, passed up the opportunity of charting a new political course for the nation through the cruel annulment of the freest and fairest election in the history of the nation and the subsequent evisceration of the winner, power is finally passing to a new generation of politicians led by a man who toiled against the annulment and who has been in the trenches against tyranny ever since.

      It will be recalled that it was the selfsame General Buhari who first broke with the protocol of absolutism established by his military cohorts by conferring the highest national honour on the presumed winner of the annulled June 12, 1993 presidential election, MKO Abiola, in a dramatic change of course that stunned the entire nation a few years back.

    Read Also : JUST IN: Buhari takes Tinubu on tour of State House

      History will always vindicate the just. But it is always after a hard slog through the jungle of perfidy and treachery. Ordinarily, this profound resetting of the political clock of the nation ought to be a cause for epic celebration and much national jubilation.

    But because it comes against a backdrop of fresh contradictions, maddening detours and diversions and of course the great cunning of history itself, the whole thing reminds one of what William Shakespeare had to say about the murder of Christopher Marlowe: A great reckoning in a small room.

        Consequently, it feels like a damp squib to many of our compatriots rather than a cause for great jubilation and celebration. As a result, twenty four hours to the dawn of a new order in Nigeria, the mood among enlightened Nigerians is of a cautious wait and see and reluctant expectations rather than ululation. Rancorous litigations are still flying all over the place while the DSS is shouting itself hoarse about plots to truncate the orderly transfer of power.

     Yet within the tribal ramparts, something more intriguing is taking place. While many of the most desperate ethnic opponents of the new president appear to have reconciled themselves to the inevitable, a mood of understated optimism has taken hold among the ancient Praetorian guard of Tinubu’s Yoruba constituency.

    As the weeks wore on and the post-election status quo remains unyielding, the ferocious sabre-rattling among Tinubu’s most militant adversaries appear to be giving way to a sober pragmatism and canny realpolitik. There are many who have reached the conclusion that Tinubu’s ascendancy may well be a divine instrument of breaking the deadlock of hegemonic blocs that has hobbled Nigeria’s post-independence developments.

       But hegemonic animosities die hard indeed. All this has not completely eliminated the disconcerting and eerily pervasive feeling that something  is not quite right, or that something nasty is about to happen, despite the surefooted and clinically coordinated programme of disengagement by the federal authorities.

       In many circles, there is the deep-seated fear that elements of the old deep state that are not happy with developments may be poised to cause mayhem. Others finger agents of separatist movements and other ethnic irredentists as waiting in the wings to unleash violence and chaos at the appointed hour. In an extreme instance of counterproductive and ultimately destructive self-isolation, IPOB has already placed its catchment region on a war-footing.

      It must be conceded that these morbid threats, pervasive fears and apprehensions are a reflection of the geopolitical contradictions that drive the nation’s electoral fortunes and its post-election political reality. To get a good analytic grip of the development, we need to go back to the last presidential election.

      While many compatriots appeared to be completely pissed off by the lacklustre performance of the Buhari administration, they did not consider the irredeemable PDP as a worthy alternative. The Labour Party which seemed to have galvanized the national opposition to the ruling party soon dissolved into an ethnic and religious rampart which made it a very dangerous customer in a multi-ethnic and multi-religious nation.

      In the event, it was the candidate with the least polarizing baggage, the least divisive package and the least unified and cohesive opposition in the countervailing ethnic and religious redoubts that prevailed. The incoming president’s mandate does not boast of an overwhelming pan-Nigerian endorsement, but it is the only one that cuts through the strongholds despite suffering the equivalent of an electoral carpet-bombing in the South East.

     As this column warned while the wagon-cycling was unfolding in the east, this kind of “total voting” was bound to provoke similar electoral neurosis in other nationalities with the possibility of poisoning the post-election atmosphere and the evaporation of early national reconciliation. This is precisely what has happened.

      It can now be seen why given the circumstances and the obvious mismanagement of ethnic diversity by the Buhari administration, no overwhelming pan-Nigerian mandate was possible in the last presidential election. In fact, it can be seen in retrospect that Nigeria narrowly avoided a major ethnic and religious conflagration. The threat has not completely evaporated.

     For a moment, it would appear as if some hardliners in the inner sanctuary of General Buhari’s Ottoman presidency were bent on forcing some confrontation until the ball was miraculously dropped on that historic night of the party convention. We have to thank once again the group of northern governors who demonstrated enough presence of mind and acuity of strategic awareness to see through the dangerous self-entrapment.

       If the hard men who briefly held Buhari’s attention had gone ahead with the obtuse insistence on fielding a northern ticket after eight years of the Buhari presidency, they would have succeeded in uniting the Southern elements in a confrontation with the north which could have put a question mark on the continuing viability of the nation. Luckily for Nigeria, it turned out to be the Moor’s last hiccup.

      It can now be seen why in such desperate circumstances of bitter polarization and animus among the political elite, the very idea of perfect elections or a sweeping pan-Nigerian mandate is a delusionary mirage. Perfect elections or pan-national mandate can only arise from substantial elite consensus or in a revolutionary situation in which diverse nationalities achieve organic cohesion capable of imposing their vision and will on the nation.

        The notion of a pure democracy is a pious fiction anywhere in the world. In fractious multi-ethnic and multi-religious nations bristling with atavistic antagonism, elections are neither a tea party nor a street carnival. They are disguised warfare, often with the possibility of the real thing erupting at a short notice. Disputed presidential elections have led to civil wars in many countries on the continent, most memorably in Liberia, Sierra Leone, Ivory Coast, Congo Brazzaville, Algeria and briefly in Kenya. 

       In all likelihood, our former colonial masters and international do-gooders, now showing belated awareness of the Pandora Box of active volcano they have foisted on Africa in the name of nationhood and its capacity for apocalyptic eruptions when mildly vexed, might have come to the conclusion that any election in volatile African nations whose outcome shows substantial believability and compliance with state mood and balance of electoral forces is preferable to elites coming to blows.

       In an emerging world order in which western hegemony is threatened by new global powers, in which dollar sovereignty is being fiercely contested by new players in the world market and in which simultaneous conflicts are draining the west of its once seemingly inexhaustible resources, the western powers and old champions of textbook democracy can hardly afford to add Africa to their current troubulous portfolio.

      As the unfolding tragedy in Sudan has shown, age long animosities need only a spark before the state implodes taking the entire society with it. Observers note that despite numerous coups, insurrections, war in Darfur and assassinations, the last time street fighting actually occurred in Khartoum was in 1898 when the then Major General H.H Kitchener( Later Field Marshal Kitchener) came to avenge the murder of General Charles Gordon, aka Chinese Gordon, by the Mahdi and his followers.

      One of the great ironies of Nigeria’s  and Fourth Republic and post-military dispensation is the fact that General Buhari has turned out to be the greatest disruptor of the electoral status quo, despite being an archconservative and even mildly reactionary in ideological outlook.  Wielding state power with maximum severity and ruthless efficiency when it matters most to him even while feigning a coy innocence, Buhari has been able to cage the old selectorate and put their nose out of joints.

      The general from Daura was paying back his old tormentors who put him through the electoral meat grinder for twelve years. By refusing to have any truck with them, particularly the most malignantly self-important and obstreperous among them, Buhari made it impossible for them to act with a unified objective and without the critical oxygen of state power.

      When they acted in genuine pan-Nigerian concert and with the backing of state power, they were unstoppable, determining who ruled Nigeria and for how long. This time around, they went into electoral battle without any credible candidate and with their ranks completely decimated by state attrition. One of them, having sated his hunger and slaked his thirst, proclaimed that he had found the revolutionary messiah to rule the nation in a mendacious conman.

      The stalemate of the selectorate allowed a third force to pass through the middle to create a new hegemonic coalition at the centre. It all began in 2015 when a coalition of contraries and countervailing tendencies led by the long-forsaken general from Daura took the nation by storm. Four years later, an attempt by the old selectorate to unseat Buhari was brusquely shrugged off by the taciturn former infantry officer. Now, and in spite of himself, he has succeeded in imposing a new hegemonic order on the nation.

       In the event, the portents and scary prognostications which have accompanied the last elections and the turbulent aftermath may well be the birth pains of a new political order.  It is a brittle triumph. There is still a lot to play for and it is a situation which will test the mettle of the new commander in chief. Luckily, he has proved himself a master bridge builder and elite conciliator.

      Let us not deceive ourselves. Nigeria is in a very parlous condition, economically, politically and spiritually. What we have achieved so far is to prevent a collision of shrines. But going forward, the crunch will come when it comes to laying before the entire nation a vision of a structurally harmonious and egalitarian society which requires a substantial buy in from all the critical sectors of the nation. It is morning yet on creation day in post-military Nigeria.

    • This column is going on leave