Tunji Adegboyega
Given the propensity of some of our big men to faint when asked to account for how they have spent public funds, the question: ‘how do you like to faint’ might be a new normal. The way these big men collapse in the face of trial is quite different from the way the poor man reacts in similar circumstances. When caught pants down, the poor man does not waste the time of the honourable court. He simply blames the devil for whatever infractions he might have committed. And, just like the witches in the village that are blamed for all deaths, the devil does not get fair hearing. The judge simply enters the plea of the accused and move on with the case.
But our rich men! They do not want anything to come between them and their opulent lifestyle. They want to hop into the next chartered flight whenever they choose. They cannot afford to miss their choice wine or women. They easily get agitated when faced with what the poor will not even lose sleep over. They cherish their freedom.
Indeed, this would seem the crux of the matter. Freedom. They need their freedom to be able to enjoy “all these things” which, according to ace musician, Shina Peters, “na ego dey talk” (only money can buy). Although we have been regaled with stories of how some of our very important prisoners lose practically nothing even while in incarceration. How they tip prison warders and bribe their way to go and enjoy those things they used to enjoy as free citizens, even from prison, under the cover of darkness. In spite of this exclusive privilege, they are still scared stiff of going to prison. As a matter of fact, they become lily-livered when faced with allegations of fraud. They don’t even wait to be prosecuted and convicted before their effeminate tendencies begin to manifest.
They sweat profusely like Christmas goat, even in fully air-conditioned environments where others are chilling and shivering.
Rather than talk sensibly, they only mutter some incoherent tunes. That is for those of them who can still find the courage to speak. Others simply cave in and start singing like canaries. They tell stories beyond questions that they are asked. Yet, others slump and faint, before ‘making for the canvass’ (to quote a late colleague who reported the story of a military governor that slumped at a public function) if there is no one to rescue them in those self-imposed critical moments.
Nigerians, and indeed the world was treated to one such episode on July 20. Occasion was the grilling by lawmakers in the House of Representatives investigating the alleged mismanagement of about N81.5 bn in the Niger Delta Development Commission (NDDC). Venue was Conference Room 231 of the House. At the centre of the storm was the acting managing director of the commission, Prof Daniel Kemebradikumo (what a mouthful!) Pondei, who collapsed during the house committee hearing on the matter. He assumed duties in February, this year.
The NDDC has come to mean the same thing to many people in its 20 years of existence: an agency to be raped, looted and stripped bare, if possible. As a matter of fact, it is a testimony to the commission’s resilience that it continues to exist despite the massive assaults it has suffered from most of the people that have had to manage it. Which is a sad irony, given the reasons for its establishment and the fact that most of those stealing it blind are from the Niger Delta region.
The Punch aptly captured the reactions of some Nigerians to this development. A tweep, @CrownSam1, wrote, “This is a big drama. We all went to school, it seems some questions on how the money is being spent is the cause of the collapse, we know how it is, please wake him up. Nigeria my country.”
@PreciousAnurika said, “Tomorrow, he will bandage his neck. Drama king, when you were signing those outrageous monies, you didn’t faint. It’s now to defend it, you’re fainting.”
Saddiq Abba said, “I’m beginning to believe we have some comedians and clowns in positions of authority in this country.
“I suspected something like this would happen when he claimed he needed a doctor last week, now this! How much more unserious can we get in this country?”
And, from The Guardian: @Oluomoofderby tweeted, “…They should pour water on him, fan him and continue the questioning. He should stop making a fool of himself.”
Okeke Ngozi: “While spending, no fainting. Now that they have called for accountability, fainting has started. Why are they always fainting whenever they are being called to court or for questioning?”
@JA_Olaoye said, “Fake fainting…Some fools will come and talk about humanity here and God will hook them up too with punishment.
@omoayeni01 said, “One fact is that by tomorrow, Pondei must have been diagnosed with one serious ailment by a team of professional scammers too through fictitious medical reports all in the aim of frustrating the massive probe deliberately orchestrated by them. Endless drama.”
@iam_bussie tweeted, “A government official is to give account of their deeds…Nigerians this looks like deja vu, right. Pondei, Dino, Fayose, Olisa Metuh #NDDCProbe.”
These might be the opinions of a few Nigerians, but they are fairly representative of those of the generality of the people who are becoming tired of what they see as the antics of our rich.
In May 2018, Chief Olisa Metuh, the former National Publicity Secretary of the Peoples Democratic Party, PDP, collapsed while on his way to the dock for continuation of his trial over a seven-count charge of diversion of N400 million he allegedly received from the office of the former National Security Adviser, Sambo Dasuki.
Then, Senator Dino Melaye. In January, last year, after grandstanding for about a week, locking himself up in his house in Abuja, he finally surrendered to policemen but fainted minutes after. The police had accused some of his supporters of shooting and fatally wounding a police sergeant on a stop-and-search duty, and wanted Melaye in connection with the incident.
Trust Nigerians for their fecund sense of imagination. They have woven some jokes round this tendency for fainting by the rich. Like this WhatsApp post by Charles the 1st@9jaBloke :
”Dino Melaye was charged for corruption and he fainted.
Olisa Metuh was charged for corruption and he fainted.
Daniel Pondei was charged for corruption and he fainted.
If your spouse catches you cheating, don’t explain, just faint.”
But for the fact that the ‘Ajekun Iya’ exponent, Dino Melaye, is himself involved, trust him, he would have composed an album from this well-thought-out message!
Although the NDDC was later to blame I’ll-health for Prof. Pondei’s collapse at the hearing, I did not think there was any need to go that far in defence of their boss. The commission’s probe is not the first to be conducted in the National Assembly and it would not be the last. Many had been conducted? What came out of them?
But our big men should know that if they cannot stand the rigours of standing trial for alleged crimes, they should stay clear of public office. We can only believe those of them who have been ‘sleeping and waking like cock’ (apologies to the legendary Fela Anikulapo-Kuti) in their offices before the time of trouble. Those who faint only in times of trouble are unlikely to have sympathy from the public because they do not have any such record of persistent fainting. And, of course, when someone intermittently faints and wakes in office, we do not need anyone to tell us that such a person is unfit for the office, as a result of infirmity or incapacitation, and would therefore do the needful.
Our rich men who seem to be perfecting the art of fainting at accountability periods should know they also stand the risk of being ignored the rate at which they are going, even when they might have fainted in truth. The consequence of that being their waking up in the other side after their circus show, to see they are already in the Great Beyond. That is why in Yoruba land, we don’t joke with fainting (won ki fi mo daku sere).
Permit me to conclude this piece with yet another Yoruba expression: ati je elede yungba-yungba, ati san owo, tiko-tiko. Literally, this means there is no problem when eating a pig; the problem comes when it is time to pick the bill. In our specific context, however, it simply tells us how easy it is to sign out public funds but very difficult to render accounts.
Meanwhile, our big men who are likely to get invited to ‘come and say their own’, and who might lack the ingenuity to invent their own model of fainting need not bother themselves much. They have at least three models to choose from: the Metuh Model, Melaye Model or the ‘rave of the moment’, the Pondei Model. The choice is theirs.
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