IT was meant to be a small ceremony. Brief remarks, presentation, and departure. But it turned out to be much more – full of drama like an Indian movie – with women dancing and men cheering.
That was last Friday’s presentation of the Expression of Interest and nomination forms to former Vice President Atiku Abubakar in Abuja.
The presenters said they had taxed themselves to raise N40m for the forms as an expression of their love for the Turaki Adamawa, who is in the 2019 presidential race. He is seeking the ticket of the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP).
Overcome by emotion, Atiku burst into tears, wiping his face with a white handkerchief . The gesture was, to him and his admirers, a rare display of affection. He promised not to let them down.
Trust the media. They focused on Atiku’s tears instead of the import of this show of love. Why he wept became the subject of hot debates all over the country. Some said he was weeping because the ticket was slipping off his hands, following the entry of a sea of big aspirants into the race. Others said it was all a gimmick to curry sympathy.
“Who is he deceiving? So, Atiku is so poor he can’t afford the forms? Is it a case of the poor losing the little he has to the rich?” (You need attribution here.)
Yet, others turned it into a joke. “We don’t need a crying president,” one said. Another claimed that Atiku wept because he remembered former President Olusegun Obasanjo’s statement: “God will not forgive me if I support Atiku to be president.”
“What have I done to Obasanjo, Atiku must have been wondering,” the fellow said, adding: “Was Atiku actually crying or sobbing or weeping or wailing?”
There were also those who brought in the medical angle. They claim that doctors recommend that we should cry in order to free our bottled- up feelings, which must be released lest some veins burst. Besides, said the emergency experts, tears are necessary to clean our eyes.
When are tears genuine? When are our tears a result of some negative or positive feeling, the type described as tears of joy? Is it when we are really hurt physically and emotionally? How do we convince our sympathisers that we are not shedding crocodile tears? This is really difficult to say.
When Ekiti State Governor Ayo Fayose showed up on television on the eve of the July 14 governorship election with a broken arm and a neck brace, crying like a victim of a Lagos pickpocket, some busybodies concluded – with no proof whatsoever – that it was all a show.
Why will a governor cry in public like a little boy whose lollipop has been snatched by an inconsiderate man? The busybodies said it was another vote harvesting stunt to prop up the failing stomach infrastructure for which Ekiti became famous as the home of well fed men and women with chubby cheeks and rotund tummies – all proof of good governance.
They were neither medical doctors nor traditional bone setters, yet they insisted that the brace on Fayose’s neck was worn upside down and that his hand should not have been hung on his broken neck. Where it should have been, they never said.
Pardon the seeming digression. We return to Atiku’s tearful ceremony. The rich also cry, a colleague said on reading the story. He was alluding to the now rested popular soap opera. Yes, another rejoined and sparked off a debate, which I considered unnecessary, on the difference between a rich man crying and a poor man crying.
“Atiku did not talk much. Tears welled up in his eyes and he brought out of his pocket a white handkerchief with which he wiped the tears before they could start dropping,” my colleague said, adding: “That’s a big man crying. And when the rich cry, their loved ones and hangers-on will, of course, be there to hug them and pat them on the back, whispering into their ears soothing words of comfort. That’s how the rich cry.”
As if on cue, the other guy said: “When the poor cry, it is a different and difficult matter. It begins with a sob, then an attempt to fight back the tears, a coughing bout and then screaming and swearing. His two hands are clasped on his head. He wipes his face with the edge of his dirty dress. For better effect, he may begin to jump up and crash onto the ground. His friends and neighbours will grab him by the waist or the shoulder, depending on how dramatic he is. They will be telling him: “You wan kill yasef? You be baby? A beg e don do o.”
I have just been told of how a young politician who has been threatening to also run for president has been crying for days. He says he is rehearsing how he will cry when his friends and admirers eventually decide to hand him the cash to buy the forms. Atiku’s tears, he vowed, will be a mere drop; his will be a flood.
There is hardly any situation without a redeeming feature. Those who have been scoffing at the idea of an Atiku presidency, describing him as a moneybag have now seen his modesty. He is wealthy enough to hire a million mourners to shed tears on his behalf on that emotional occasion, but he chose to do it all alone.
Poor Atiku. Nothing he has done or said since he proclaimed his ambition has gone without being severely criticised. When he said he would serve one term if elected president, many scorned him and said he was desperate. When he visited Lagos to secure the backing of the pan-Yoruba group, Afenifere, after promising to restructure Nigeria within six months of taking office, he was derided as a dreamer. Is it a crime to dream?
As for those who think that Atiku may have shed tears because of the crowded field, their position is understandable. The waters are infested with sharks and barracudas. There are many mean men of immense means. Former Senate President David Bonaventure Mark has just joined the race. I have it on good authority that Mark, who doubtlessly numbers among the few many would call stupendously rich, bought his form before any group could donate the cash to him and force him to shed tears.
Senate President Bukola Saraki has joined the race. Count him out at your own risk. Former Kaduna State Governor Ahmed Makarfi is also running. He has advised the party not to hand over the ticket to a moneybag, but he refused to be specific, even as almost all the contestants are perceived to be moneybags. Former Kano Governor Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso announced his bid for the ticket last week. As he reeled out his manifesto in Abuja, his former supporters were burning the red cap, the symbol of his Kwankwasiyya group, in Kano. Dr Datti Ahmed is in the race.
Attahiru Bafarawa, the former Sokoto State governor, has extricated himself from the EFCC web. He is consulting. Sokoto Governor Aminu Tambuwal is in the race. Former Special Duties Minister Tanimu Turaki is forging ahead in his battle for the ticket. Gombe State Governor Ibrahim Dankwabo has been going round. So is former Jigawa Governor Sule Lamido.
The race, as it is, is not likely to the tearful.
