The Nation Newspaper

Tag: Baba Lekki

  • Baba Lekki meets his match

    Baba Lekki meets his match

    To the elegantly appointed and classy Cleopatra Hotel on the outskirts of Igando for the first convention of the new political outfit calling itself Women Imperative for State Power in Nigeria (WISPN). It is a radical organization demanding the immediate surrender of state power to women in the country based on what it called staggering and overwhelming evidence of male political menopause and declining moral and ethical capacity to hold a nation in dire distress together.

      Sounds very much like the revolutionary rhetoric of a celebrated Marxist hell raiser recently forcibly retired from a top university on the grounds of senility and age discrepancies. He was seventy nine when he claimed to be sixty nine.  Poker-faced, the aging Stalinist told his interlocutors that all he could remember was that he was born on a market day several moons ago and that was all there is to that. He who seeks to prove must first disprove, or has Obasanjo told your fathers his real age, the old class warrior demanded from his tormentors as he munched on roasted corn and palm kernel.

      The mystery of it all this cool drizzling money was how the ragtag organization was able to put such an impressive show together. The list of attendees was equally impressive. So was the troupe of ushers. The second mystery was the paucity of women in attendance, apart from a sprinkling   of tomboys and toy-girls. The real women of substance and substantiality shunned the gathering. But there was the old rogue and contrarian, Lambert Adesokan, aka Baba Lekki, haranguing and hectoring the crowd even as he extolled the virtues of great Nigerian heroines from antiquity to the current epoch until he was rudely interrupted by a cynical thug from Amukoko.

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        “Baba, all dat na igan mushe as dem Fela go say. You wan tell me say you never sabi woman who dey steal gobment money like dem Oyenusi man before? “the man chortled. Sensing that his platform of logic and fact was about to collapse, the old rogue maintained a stern, impassive face.

      “Not to the best of my knowledge”, the old man replied without much conviction as he scratched his head leering at the exit door.

       “ Liar!!! Baba Olosi!! Onijekuje!”, a mountainous , heavy duty woman screamed from the back of the hall and began heading menacingly towards the platform and the old crook. Amidst the pandemonium, the stage shook and then collapsed but the old man had vanished.

  • Baba Lekki turns the table on June 12

    Baba Lekki turns the table on June 12

    To Gbayanrin and the upmarket Bantu Television Station where Baba Lekki was running rings around the  main anchor of the station and his colleagues over the vexed issue of the annulment of the June 12 1993 presidential election and the true heroes of the struggle to liberate Nigeria. It was a long time one had heard from the geriatric scoundrel after his last attempt to scam a nearby bank using AI generated images failed and he took to his heels. When he was finally apprehended, he claimed to be a ghost on spiritual sabbatical attached to a nearby church and everybody fled in turn. It is a scammers’ market and no one is sure of who is scamming who anymore.

      “Sir, if I heard you very well, you just said it is June 23 that should be celebrated and not June 12. If my memory does not fail me, that was the very day the election was annulled”, the anchor asked the old man who was beginning to show signs of growing impatience and irritation.

      “So, if you heard me very well, why are you repeating the question? Let your memory fail you that is your father’s problem. All I am saying is that June 23 is the real day or the McCoy. That is the day the soldiers finally overreached themselves and shot themselves in the foot. That is the reason we are enjoying this spell of democracy, otherwise they would have been back again with their gra-gra and this nonsense about I Brigadier Sukuniyan or Colonel Dodondawa”, the old man exploded. The entire hall in turn erupted in rapturous applause. A Lagosian-looking dandy in Edwardian bow tie and heavy parting inhaled his snuff with preposterous loudness which reminded one of an asthmatic baboon.

       “Wo, omo eleniyan, o ri yen so”, he shouted and fell back asleep with thunderous snoring. Okon, who had staggered in moments earlier reeking of cheap alcohol and periwinkles and eyeing everybody with tipsy self-importance, saw an opportunity for his usual mischief and hanky-panky. He had fastened his gaze on a huge self-composed lady who sat quietly behind the crew taking notes and passing suggestions. He staggered up, ogling the lady with wild relish.

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      “Bia, bia, no be you I been they check out for Mafoluku before before, abi na for Akowonjo sef?” the mad boy drawled, rocking on his feet in a drunken haze. The lady, a no-nonsense disciplinarian, rose to her full, frightening height ready to pounce on the urchin but was restrained by the crew who might have seen her in action before. She weighed at six foot six with ample bulk to match. Rumour swept the hall that she was a niece of the famous Giant Alakuku from Mbala in Isuochi and could beat up ten men put together.

       “Idiot, I have been warning you, this is where you will meet your Waterloo”, Baba Lekki charged.

      “Baba, water no dey for loo for Oshodi again”, the mad boy slurred and fell back asleep. The interview resumed.

    “Baba, one last question and it is about this Amaechi fellow. How can a former minister say he is hungry in this country?” the youngest member of the crew asked.

      “You have answered your own question. You see, government na wicked people. I used to like that boy. But when you suddenly remove the federal feeding bottle from an old man of sixty after feeding continuously for twenty four years, he is bound to develop some social psychosis known as Post Traumatic Stomach Disorder, a mad craving for anything ingestible.” The old man responded with professorial solemnity.   After that, a massive power outage terminated proceedings. Okon was the first to jump out through the window.

  • Baba Lekki fumes and fulminates against senate

    Baba Lekki fumes and fulminates against senate

    On Friday morning, just as one tucked into a most delicious meal of Kokoruwa, Sukuniyan and Cocoyam  porridge in post-Ramadan bliss, a major commotion seemed to have erupted outside the house. The mad dustbin woman was shouting on top of her voice. From his room, one could hear Okon breathing heavily and mumbling heavy curses. “I been dey hope say no be dis kata woman who come bring dem Igbirra masquerades, becos I don beg her abi wetin now?” Okon was overheard rumbling with fright and premonition.

        “Etubom Okon, go and find out what is going on now”, yours sincerely ordered the crazy fellow from the safety of the sitting room.

         “Ha, oga, I no fit for dat one. Na true say my papa don quench, but mama still dey for Itigidi. I no want dem Natatashe woman come pieces me like dem fowl for Agege market”, the mad fellow moaned. But the foreboding dissolved as soon as Baba Lekki sauntered in half clad mumbling some fevered incantations. Apparently, he had been involved in some altercation about correct fares with the lorry driver and his hobos who brought him all the way from Ubiaja where he had gone on recce for some dreaded self-determination group in connection with the Uromi tragedy. The old contrarian had been eerily quiet since the advent of the new administration claiming he was on a watching brief. “Ogboni             man no dey fight ogboni man for public”, he would quip when hard-pressed.

       “Ha baba wonranwonran, so na you dey cause all them wahala and man wan pee for trousers thinking say na dem Tatashe abi Natasha woman?” Okon hollered mightily relived.

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        “ Ha, Okon, na dat girl go drive all dem yeye people comot dem senate. Natasha no be ordinary woman. As him name Akpoti be, and as dem Yoruba people dey say, na for home apoti go wait for them to come siddon. The girl dey roll dem with only one finger”, the choleric contrarian crowed with malicious relish.

        “Kai, baba, na dis Igbirra people go finis dem for dis obodo!” Okon wailed, eyeing yours truly with suspicion and unease.

        “Dem be better people. I gree dem own well well. Dem Igbirra people no dey carry last at all at all. But he be like if say for some of them something come dey do krain krain for dem head”. The crazy old man chanted as he furrowed his eyes in utter mischief.

        “ Ha ! Baba, how you come see dem rally for Okene?” Okon asked in half trepidation.

        “Okon, na dat one dem dey call Verdict 25. You know say for Verdict 83 as dem yeye boys de talk nonsense for NTA dem Ondo man come appear and him dey cry and dey piss. Luku, governor he dey run oo. But this Natasha own as dem lawyer go put am, evidence of crowd na crowded evidence and him come surpass bag of Aba signature. Even mad dog de sabi fire”, the old man snorted and vanished into thin air. 

  • Baba Lekki storms old NEPA office

    Baba Lekki storms old NEPA office

    A day after the announcement of the steep and astronomical rise in electricity tariffs, Baba Lekki was up in arms, fuming and fulminating against anything and anybody in sight. The old contrarian has been quiet of late, vowing never to criticize the new government until a particular time has elapsed. But his agony has been compounded by the fact that he had earlier in the week been forced to abandon a trip to the interior because thieves have made away with the whole transformer of his town.

      “That is what they call amodemaja, when you capture both the hunter and his dog”, Baba Lekki explained to a group of younger admirers, “or the assassination of light if you like”.

     But this misty morning, it was obvious that the old codger was in no mood for any nonsense as he forced his way to the head of the queue with the crowd giving him a wide berth as he murmured some torrid incantations. He was quite a sight to behold, dressed only in amulet-suffused warrior knickers which gave off a foul odour redolent of expiring porcupine. The lady in the kiosk quickly motioned for help from a suave, well-dressed young man who looked like the resident trouble-shooter.

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      “Ah big daddy, how can we help you this morning, sir?” the young man opened with a polite smile.

      “You better stop that saccharine nonsense. You are the one in need of help”, the old man snapped.

      “So, what brought you here today?” the chap inquired slightly jolted by the old man’s irate adversity.

      “I want you to tell me the meaning of this latest obscene scam, this indefensible rise in tariff!” the old man screamed, furiously stamping his left foot on the ground.

      “Ah baba, we don’t do scams here. We only do hikes”, the young man responded.

       “In that case, eku aiki na”, the old man retorted in surly contempt lapsing into Yoruba-Hausa lingo.

       “Baba, let me help you out. What is your band?” the troubleshooter demanded.

       “Ebenezer Obey”, the ancient contrarian whined.

      “No, I don’t mean musical bands”.

      “But you are the ones playing Musical chairs with Nigerians. When you changed your name to DISCO, I knew nothing good will ever come out of it”, the old man noted as he began walking away in anger and sorrow.

      “Baba, what is your NIN?” the young man shouted at his heels.

      “You are a nincompoop!” the old man blasted as he vanished in the crowd.

  • Baba Lekki solves restructure riddle for the nation

    Baba Lekki solves restructure riddle for the nation

    Apropos of the saying that unhappy nations are not alike in their unhappiness, it is meet to report our finding that all unhappy cooks and drivers are alike. As the Air Force jets pounded the western creeks and impounded the crooks, Okon wore a sad and dejected mien. His illicit oil and “disel” business having evaporated in a fiery bonfire, Okon was a distraught and disconsolate sight to behold. Snooper pressed advantage.

      “Oga Okon how market now?” yours sincerely taunted the crazy boy.

      “Oga, monkey don go market and him never return, oil and gas don become yell and gasp”, the mad boy rejoined with a bitter grin.

       “Alagba, don’t mind the yeye boy. Arepo don become Aorepo. As dem Yoruba people dey say, Adegun don become Adeogun”, Baba Lekki intoned with malicious gusto.

     “Baba at your age, I don tell una make you no follow dem military monkey chop bush”, Okon countered with an irate frown.

     “Ah you see yeye boy? Dem thin wey drive monkey come climb palm tree, him still dey wait for monkey below”, Baba Lekki sneered.

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      “You see dem Yoruba people?” Okon screamed. “You dey steal our oil blocks and when we come do our own oil block for Arepo, katakata come burst. Dem plane come dey spit fire. No be dem reason why we say make dem restructure dem useless kontri be dis?” Okon bitterly lamented.

      “Ha Okon restructure ke? Wetin you dey restructure?  You don join dem foolish bukuru people? You see when dem Ibrahim Baba Igida say him wan do adjustment for economy structure, I come ask am wey dem structure him wan adjust. If structure no dey, so wetin you wan restructure?. Dat one na intellectual misnomer and dem vulcanizer’s hot air. Dem thing to do na to destructure, make dem remove dem no-structure nonsense and replace am patapata.” The old contrarian volunteered.

    “Baba, if una sabi dis much grammar, why you no dey practice dem law for court?” Okon snorted.

    “Foolish boy, I don tell you say dem deport me from dem London Inn for two fighting. I come trek to Las Palmas. Each time I go court and I tell dem say I get am for Inter BL with dem LL. B in view dem dey ask police make dem finish me….”

      It was at this point that some hooded men with the insignia of a dreaded local militia campaigning for self-determination came in looking for Okon. The crazy boy vamoosed like a walnut spirit.

  • And Baba Lekki agrees to disagree with Kongi

    And Baba Lekki agrees to disagree with Kongi

    Dear readers what you have just read was actually published eight years ago. Last Thursday at the fiftieth anniversary of Punch newspaper group after Nobel laureate, Wole Soyinka, delivered  his sledgehammer statement that it is nations impeding the progress humanity that should be destroyed so that the human race can survive, a swarm of reporters besieged Baba Lekki who was hiding in a disused facility adjacent to the lecture hall.

    “ Baba, as dem Nobel Lawrence don say make dem kukuma kaput Kontri wetin you say to dat?” one of them demanded.

       “He didn’t say that. You see this is the problem with you illiterate journalists. One of you was even asking me whether I am Tosh Benson. God punish his mama for me. You see Kongi is my friend. But I will put it differently. Humanity has survived all the iron jackets and encumbrances we have been forced to wear in the name of progress and state engineering. Whenever these artificial constructs reach the limit of their possibility as vehicles of human emancipation and empowerment, they cease to have the right to exist. This is what has happened to old kingdoms, fiefdoms, empires, principalities and nations. The nation-state paradigm is six hundred years old and Nigeria only a century. When the decibel of human suffering and misery reaches a particular crescendo, not even the lame will need any persuasion to get up”, the old man rued tearfully as he began to walk away in sad, measured steps.

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     “Baba, he come be as if nail don bend and hammer don scatter. So who killed dem Dele Giwa man?” one flustered journalist shouted at the old man.

       “Balance of forces”, the old man snapped in weary impatience. There was a tense silence. Then a dutiful journalist who has been chewing on his ball pen roused himself.

    “Baba se na balance be him surname abi na forces?” he demanded.

      “Abi na Bilisi (Devil in local parlance) force sef?”, a drunken, self-important stringer slurred.

     “So why dem never catch him killer?” another demanded.

         “Balance of forces”, the old man insisted as he vanished among the crowd.

  • Baba Lekki lambasts labour leaders on Workers’ Day

    To iconic and historic Epetedo on Tuesday to listen to verbal fireworks as a drunken Baba Lekki and a feckless Okon mounted a makeshift platform to deliver a damning verdict on the state of the nation and the state of Labour leadership in particular. It was around the same premises almost twenty five years earlier that MKO Abiola made his historic declaration against military tyranny prompting his arrest, incarceration and subsequent martyrdom.

    The whole place was bristling with out of work layabout, hawkers and hookers, half-employed flotsam, the certificated unemployable, syndicated kidnappers, equal opportunity pickpockets and other waste products of a dysfunctional society in its last gasps. As he launched one scurrilous attack after another, it was obvious that Baba Lekki had come to bury the system and not to praise it. But rather than grant his wish for martyrdom, the authorities wisely chose to ignore him.

    It was at this point that Okon chose to make his deliberately delayed self-important entry sporting the uniform of ancient bus conductors to wild, spontaneous applause from the star-struck assemblage.

    “Comrade Okon!!! Comrade Okon is here. The lion of Clifford Station has arrived”, the crowd enthused.

    “Ha ma people, ma people. Make I tell you something about dat one. I no be come raid at all at all. Dem no ask me to come before I don dey raid dem well well. So I be Raid Okon”, the crazy boy screamed as he clambered up the makeshift stage with the agility of a cat and to the quiet consternation of a drunken and sagging Baba Lekki.

    “Redi-redi Okon, you no see how dem useless Labour leaders dey do Maradona for us? “ a virtually toothless veteran troublemaker inquired with hardy cynicism written all over his face.

    “Baba Alausa, dem labour people no dey lead, dem dey deal. Some time sef I dey wonder why dem dey call them labour. Na only women dey do labour when dem wan comot pikin. Abi you don see where man dey labour before? Yeye people”, Okon snorted with wild relish.

    “As for….. as for, my pikin”, an old Edo man grunted with savage pleasure. It was at this point that Baba Lekki waded in with heavy duty Marxian dialectics.

    “Okon, point of correction. Those ones you see on television wearing funny uniforms and Aso ebi are not labour leaders. They are a bunch of bourgeois renegades working for government and looking to line their pockets with filthy lucre. They are answerable to no one but their masters in Aso Rock. When they see the real workers, they will run for dear life”. The old man intoned with magisterial severity.

    “Baba, see the plight of government workers in this land”, one man lamented.

    “On that one, I will not lie to you. I am a scholar of sick societies and not a labour propagandist. We have tell ourselves the truth and nothing but the truth. There are no government workers in this obodo in the real sense of the word. As they say in old Russia, people are pretending to work while government is pretending to pay them. Shikena, equation don balance. Liveable pay is the product of believable work. Three quarters of the workforce in the land are just an idle bunch of no-hopers hiding away in sinecure indolence”, the old man thundered.

    “And what about us factory workers?” one irate youth demanded in a rather threatening note.

    “Ah you see, young man, that is another lie we are living. To have factory workers, you must have functioning factories. You can count the number of functioning factories in the land. They have either been shut down or they are functioning well below capacity. Workers can only blackmail owners of functioning factories. Otherwise, they will just close the damned thing down and walk away. So you see, there is no functioning working class in the nation in the real sense of the word. We only have non-working underclasses or jetsam of collapsed industries”, Baba Lekki crowed.

    “Oga, but dem minimum wage no fit buy minimum food, abi your head no correct too?” one angry man demanded.

    “Ah you see, minimum wages are the wages of minimum people devised by minimum government of minimum nations. When you have a maximum nation ruled by a maximum government, you will get maximum wages. Please don’t ask me any further foolish question or I will place a curse on you”, Baba Lekki screamed.

    “Baba, and dem don thieve our pension finish”, one old man whimpered.

    “Nonsense, the real pension thieves are in the National Assembly with their humongous pay and humongous severance package. They need real severance before the nation can move forward. Tell your foolish labour leaders to go after those ones first”, Baba Lekki shouted as he jumped down and began to walk away with Okon in tow.

     

  • Baba Lekki turns the table at Clifford Station

    Back to the iconic and much storied Clifford Police Station where Okon is being grilled for political infamy and for contributing to the electoral adversity of the nation. After being released on administrative bail on charges of electoral treason, Okon was impounded once again for leading a protest march against the conveners of Our mumu don do which turned rowdy when two cows were shot as they were about to cross the road without their conveners.

    The cows were also leading a protest against incessant harassment, abductions and violent kidnapping of their folks along the Abuja-Kaduna-Keffi Bermuda Triangle.  The police, enraged and bewildered by Okon’s temerity, decided to up the stakes by slamming the mother of all electoral infractions on the crazy boy. “If dem no shoot am, na for here him go meet him mama for heaven”., the burly police sergeant boasted.

    The much storied Clifford Police Station has lost much of its old prestige and lustre. But it was still standing, or better still crouching in bitter age and studious neglect. It was here that the murder suspects in the celebrated Apalara case were taken with an angry crowd chafing outside. It was also within the precincts of the station that a famous Lagos lawyer disappeared forever as he was about to be charged with the murder of his wife over allegations of serial infidelity.

    The station was wearing a forlorn look this morning after the heavy rains of the night. It was a great relief to Lagosians after the scalding heat of the last few weeks. With Baba Lekki suddenly materializing from nowhere and mumbling legal mumbo-jumbo, snooper knew he was in for a day of high-wire intrigues and semi-criminal grandstanding.

    “If this nonsense continues, I will have no alternative than to approach the court for a summary disbandment of Nigerian Police Force. It has outlived its usefulness and is of no use to the citizens”, Baba Lekki shouted as soon as he got inside the premises. He was eyeing with bitter contempt a group of policemen loitering and lounging about in various stages of disrepair and decrepitude. The stench from stale urine, fermented faeces and expired tobacco was overpowering. Yours sincerely was beginning to have a swooning fit and wished the whole thing would be over and done with.

    “Haba, Baba, why now?” one of the cops replied Baba Lekki with mocking reverence.

    “Shut up, you are a fool. Just because I have smoked ganja with you at Alagbado does not mean you can jump on me like that”, Baba Lekki screamed. He was obviously in no mood to take hostages. A cop who had jumped out of the adjoining bush after going to answer the call of nature and of illicit hemp was attracted by the noise. He began running towards Baba Lekki with his rifle cocked.

    “Oga, morin sah. Who be the yeye old man who dey cause trouble make I scatter him head for am?” the mad cop demanded.

    “Na your mama head you wan scatter. Abi dem thing you go smoke for bush don dabaru your sukuniyan head?” Baba Lekki retorted with a contorted smile. He appeared totally unfazed by the cop’s threatening antics. This seemed to have disarmed the rogue cop completely.

    “Ha Baba Oloye, na short put I go do inside bush, no be dem other one”, the cop noted with a vicious grin which made him look like a wild hyena.

    “You no get toilet for inside dem station?” the old man demanded.

    “Ha baba, no police fit go toilet for inside station. Dem detained women go say we wan rape dem and dem woman rights lawyer like dem kunduke Yoruba lawyer go dey shout and dem go dey scream. Police dey suffer too much for dis dem country”, the cop whimpered.  The old man ignored the loony cop.

    “And that is why they are killing everybody”, an inmate crowed. An advance party, anticipating high-charged drama, had already gathered at the front door as Baba Lekki swept past them with imperious disdain. The front desk sergeant, recognising a troublesome customer, got up and gave Baba Lekki a mock salute. But the old codger was having none of that nonsense.

    • To be continued next week.

  • And Baba Lekki pronounces on direct and indirect primaries

    As the rumpus over primaries headed for the law courts for a judicial pronouncement on the touchy and thorny issue, Okon has been mulling over the implications for party discipline and cohesion even as Baba Lekki was busy poring over his legal note books and other ancillaries of subversive disputation. Okon went in search of   the old contrarian and luminary of the legal underground.

    “ Baba wetin dem politicians mean by dis dem direct and indirect primary sef? For football and for bed, I sab dem direct kick and dem indirect kick. But dis dem own he pass man patapata”, the crazy boy demanded.

    “Okon, something new always comes out of Nigeria”, the old man replied with a cynical shrug.

    “Baba wetin you mean?” a lost Okon asked.

    “It  means WAWA. Abi you no sabi WAWA?” the old man demanded from his flustered accomplice. WAWA was the acronym which summarized old colonial frustrations with their colonised subjects. It meant West Africa Wins Again.

    “Baba be careful. I no be dem Wawa people.”, Okon snapped.

    “Okay Okon, direct primary is when primary is direct and indirect primary is when primary is indirect” the old man observed with false solemnity.

    “Baba let me tell you, dat one na jibiti talk. So you no wan go jail? Or you no want make dem Mushin boys come chop off your head? I think say you say you get juju”, Okon exploded.

    “Okay Okon, it is ok”, Baba Lekki began as he laughed convulsively. “In Direct primary, the interest of the leadership is direct and primary but in Indirect Primary the interest of the leaders is indirect but still primary”.

    “ Kai, kai baba, so primary direct no be secondary direct? Na God go punish all dis dem yeye people. Why dem no kuku tell us dem candidate make we go rest?” Okon lamented.

    “So Okon, how you go chop den?” the old man queried.

    “Baba dis one na chop and quench oo.  As dem assembly people come finis dem national treasury, no be say election sef don kaput be dat?” Okon demanded with weary resignation.

    “No, no , no, Okon. That one is called Armed Robbery Control at Source”, Baba Lekki noted with a scholarly frown as he switched to perfect English.

    “Baba wetin be dat again?” Okon asked with fright and humility.

    “Haven’t you noticed a sharp reduction in the cases of armed robbery of late?” Baba Lekki queried.

    “Yes, Baba”, Okon answered with a sheepish tone.

    “That is what is known as Armed Robbery Control at Source. When the Americans want to check the immigration influx from Haiti, they usually go there with enough incentives to dissuade the Haitians from leaving. That is known as immigration control at source. In our own case we send the armed robbers to the senate and the house of reptiles. So no need to rob with violence, just take as much as you want until the treasury collapses. If there is nothing to steal, there will be no armed robbers. Neither will there be any country eventually.” With that, the sage of Ikotun dismissed his young admirer.

  • Baba Lekki refines his theory: Defection is shifting cultivation

    And whilst we are still on the subject of defection, it is meet to report that Baba Lekki has had to revise his theory of political migration. As the tsunami of political infidelity and associational treachery threaten to overwhelm the weak ideological foundation of the Fourth Republic, Baba Lekki has been forced to revise his theory in the light of rowdy reality. On Friday morning, the old contrarian shambled in clutching a file containing frayed sheets of paper.

    “Baba no let dis yeye kontri kill you ooo. Dis one day you dey look like person whose head don defect patapata”, the mad boy crowed as he eyed the old man with cynical glee. The old man ignored him and went straight to business.

    “Okon, sit down. In Agricultural Science, political migration is known as shifting cultivation. When you farm a piece of land to infertility and barrenness, you leave it for nature to reverse the ecological damage”, the old man began.

    “Kai baba, dis your brain na Agama..” Okon began drooling but Baba Lekki cut him short.

    “But you see, in political migration there is a difference between sedentary defection and nomadic defection. In sedentary defection, the defectors come back after the land has regained its vitality and resources, but in nomadic defection, the defectors never come back after destroying the cultivation and the culture. They are permanently seeking greener pasture leaving in their wake destruction and great chaos.”

    “Baba, no be dis dem pastor Dele dey call parable?”.

    “ Nonsense. Okon, this is not a parable. This is science”, Baba Lekki shouted as he stormed out.