The Nation Newspaper

Tag: Baba Lekki

  • Baba Lekki and Okon berate Papa Edwin Clark

    As the last independence anniversary got underway, Okon has been busy lamenting  the good old days before independence when food was aplenty in the land and the local wine made from ripe banana was so abundant that even monkeys were known to get drunk on the heady stuff. At some point, snooper became exasperated with the boy’s lamentation and protest.

    “Okon, but you claim you were born in 1980. How come you remember what happened around independence?” snooper charged.

    “Oga, I don tell una say official age no be facial age. Obudu monkey dey sweat na hair dey cover am”, the mad boy snorted as he continued his rhapsody about pre-independence bliss.  The following day the boy actually raised the stakes by appearing on a television series known as “crunch time” with Baba Lekki in tow.

    “Mr Okon, welcome to the show”, the lead presenter drawled in a heavily accented baritone.

    “Point of incorrection!”  the mad boy charged. “I no be Mr Okon again. Now I be Master Okon. When a man don dey cook for thirty years without accident he don become master be dat”.

    “Ok, Master Okon”, the man corrected in a voice full of mirth and mischief.

    “And make you no dey take Yoruba corner corner eye lauf at Okon like dat. Dis one no be like dem foolish general title dem Abacha man come give dem foolish Yoruba musician and him dey jump all over dem place”, Okon screamed.

    “Just get on with it and answer the question”, a Lagosian-sounding fellow shot out from the audience.

    “Foolish Yoruba man. How market now? Abi you don return from Abuja?” the mad boy sneered. The interviewer saw an opening since Okon was on the offensive.

    “ Sir, can it be said that Chief Clark has abandoned his son Mr Goodluck Jonathan?” the interviewer queried in his merry baritone.

    “Make una tell Jonathan make him produce him birth certificate now. When fire catch man and catch him son, man must to take care of him own fire first oo. He be like if say dem Buhari don set dem afire”, Okon sniggered. It was at this point that Baba Lekki barged in with a frown.

    “Edwin Clark na gbarogudu man”, the old man began in pidgin and then switched to perfect English.”When we were in London he was Urhobo, when we got to Nigeria he became Ijaw. Na money dey determine him tribe. Tomorrow  Kajegbodo Clark fit say him be godogodo”.

    “Ha baba if he wan disowner him fine fine Yoruba wife, Okon dey kampe ooo. He don tey I punish Egba woman”. The mad boy snorted in relish. It was at this point that some Arogbow Ijaw fishermen from the surrounding creeks stormed the station and disrupted proceedings.

  • Baba Lekki solves the change riddle for the nation

    It was a distraught and distressed Okon who went in search of the old contrarian who had moved his headquarters of state subversion to the seamy swamps of Okokomaiko.

    “Okon, why are you looking like a man who has just been beaten by his wife, or am I the yeye man who cannot pay you?”, the old man smiled with a contorted visage.

    “Ha baba no be like dat sam sam.  Sikira no fit. Even him Yoruba papa no fit. But dis days when I go market go buy meat, he get one Hausa meat seller who dey shout as I dey reach him slab. “Ha, ha Yaro Okon, akoi changi, akoi changi, ba changi mana, ba changi”, baba wetin dem mala dey say?”, the poor boy moaned.

    “Ha Okon you are a fool. The man is asking you whether you have correct change”, the old man shot back.

    “Wetin be my own for dem  yeye change? No be dem mala for Abuja say him get am for plenty change?” Okon snarled.

    “ Okon, dat one na dem parable of meat seller. What the mala is saying is that no be Daura mala alone go bring change. For there to be real exchange, everybody must have correct change. Yeye Nigerians”, the old man spat and dismissed an even more confused Okon. “

  • Baba Lekki takes on the Doyen of Dystopia

    IT has not been a particularly good week for presidential Rottweilers, particularly the master of the mastiffs or doyen of dachshunds, the great roly-poly prince from Remo principality, the once and probably future medic himself.  The week opened with a coruscating inquiry into the nature and culture of sycophancy by the noted syndicated journalist with the mellifluous sounding name Sonala.

    The Ishan-born America-based poet and polemicist laid the cane deep in the back of the doyen with the merciless and painstaking thoroughness of an ancient headmaster wielding his favourite koboko. It was a harsh and unsparing exercise. Not even the fact that both were alumni and contemporaries of what was known in folk parlance as UI, Ibadan could evince pity and sympathy from the great columnist and master of lapidary prose. As the lancing and lacerating bilala seared through the mass of flesh, one could almost hear the Ijebu prince pleading for mercy in native Remo dialect. “ Areeee. We ma po nia!”

    It was not very long ago that Snooper encountered a dandified and princely looking doyen decked in ancient damask at the wedding of the son of Prince Olusunmade Akin-Olugbade and the daughter of Dr Seyi Roberts. It was a class act. As the musician sang his praise to the high heavens, the great attack mastiff capered and cantered and with backward integration when necessary. You could not but admire even if you are his political adversary.

    But those appear to be happier times. Even a master mastiff sometimes buckles under the great strain of being leashed and unleashed at short notice. This is not to talk of being constantly sharked and snaggled at by other rottweilers particularly when food is served.   Tsunami Sonala had hardly subsided when the one and only Nobel laureate with his leonine mane bracing and bristling took the Jonathan administration to the cleaners in a historic philippic dripping with venom and vitriol.  The doyen could only offer a tame and tepid response.

    Not satisfied with recent political developments, Okon went in search of Baba Lekki, the ancient sage who was now living in a cave not very far from Iba on the road to LASU. Okon met the old contrarian helping himself to a huge meal of roasted antelope which he washed down with fresh and foaming palm wine.

    “Ha baba, na bushmeat you dey whack like dat. No be ebola go kill you so?” the impish and impudent boy opened.

    “Ha kukuruku boy, you are a fool. Ebola no dey kill ebora. I dey kampe”, the old man snorted as he wolfed down a huge chunk of the prized venison.

    “Baba, na only you and dem other baba remain for dis dem bushmeat business”, Okon began but Baba Lekki cut him off.

    “Him be ebora Owu, me I be ebora Iba, so get that into your kukuruku blockhead”, Baba snapped.

    “Okay, dem kulikuli Yoruba doctor for dem Aso Rock say na Jonny boy be dem greatest president for Obodo” Okon noted.

    “Who be dat?” Baba Lekki asked in mock alarm.

    “Ha dat one who dey bite everybody like dem digbolugi dog”, Okon sneered.

    Baba Lekki burst into prolonged laughter punctuated by hiccups. “Dat one na økuugbe”. Without understanding what that meant, Okon guessed it was a heavy slammer and it was his turn to roll on the floor with mirth.

    “You see dat yeye boy, him dey call Soyinka Ogongo. When ogongo come strike am him mama go cry for am” Baba Lekki resumed.

    “Baba, wetin be ogomugomu?“, Okon asked the old man.

    “Yeye kukuruku boy, ogongo is ostrich in Yoruba.”

    “Ha, ha baba na dat remind me of dem Yoruba governor dem they call jailbird. Him jail bird sotey Obasanjo come jail am too. But last week katakata burst and come free dem prisoners for  him obodo.” Okon chanted excitedly.

    “Dem governor he dey for inside jail or outside?” Baba demanded with a scholarly frown.

    “Baba why now, why you come ask?” Okon crowed.

    “Because if him dey inside jail he mean say na him people come liberate am, and if him dey outside he mean say na him come liberate him people. Na elewon dey free elewon”. On that note, the great magi dismissed Okon.

  • Dem dey fight and dem dey chop

    (Baba Lekki solves a state riddle)

    On Friday morning as snooper nursed his wounds from internet felons who had hacked into his account and sent a message round the globe that yours sincerely was down on his luck in some Ukrainian hovel, Okon crept in wearing a massive scowl. He was brandishing a picture of Nigerian leaders backslapping and grinning from ear to ear at the recent centenary extravaganza.

    The centenary celebrations had elicited quite a fierce controversy from affronted citizens who dismissed the whole farce as a misbegotten misplacement of national priorities. A master of unforced errors, Jonathan had chalked up a couple of own goals on that one. Having contributed to the opening debate, yours sincerely refrained from joining the fray. But the crazy boy appeared inconsolable.

    “Oga I think dem say dis magomago people dey fight? Come see how dem dey laugh and dem dey yabi after dem done finish dem country. Which kind fight be dis?” the mad boy exploded.

    “Okon, go away. Hackers have finished me. They have stolen my password”, Snooper moaned in distress.

    “Oga, why you no get failword?” the mad boy demanded. As Snooper chased him away, it was a forlorn and dejected Okon who went in search of Baba Lekki for a solution to the state riddle. The old crook cleared his throat.

    “You see Okon, you are a fool. Na dat one dem dey call Sunny Ade and Obey fight” the old man grunted.

    “Baba wetin be dat? Abi dem Area Five leaves don scatter your head again?” Okon sneered.

    “You see, when you be small pikin and your yeye mama never pick race, he get dem two musicians, Obey and Sunny. Dem dey carry rumour say dem dey fight and we go dey buy dem record yafuyafu. Small time I dey wonder say dis dem Sunny Obey fight, how come one of dem no dey hospital and one of dem no kaput sef? I come follow dem yeye musicians to dem Empire Hotel for Idi Oro where dem dey eat and dem dey make merry. I come lose my mind.. I come order dem make dem dey fight kiakia or I go finish dem. Naim dem come pick race. So na Sunny Obey fight be dat. When crocodile dey chop dem dey cry”, the old man submitted’

    “Kai, kai na Amadiora go scatter dis yeye people!”, a deflated Okon yelped and collapsed into a heap.

  • The Okon and Baba Lekki road show

    While Snooper was enjoying a well-deserved holiday, the dismal duo of Baba Lekki and Okon reinvented themselves as roadside philosophers dispensing nuggets of rare wisdom for a small fees to stricken and afflicted Nigerians. Among their favourite topics are: state abduction, power as aphrodisiac, armoured cars, prebendalism in the postcolony etc. On the last topic, Snooper understands that Wale Adebanwi and Ebenezer Obadare a.k.a Ebino, sans topsy-turvy, serve as professorial consultants from the Diaspora.

    Last Thursday, Snooper watched quietly as a drunken Urhobo lady sidled up to Okon. After paying the “admission” fees, the woman wasted no time with customary formalities. “Okon, my name be Okiemute, and I dey sell fish for Ogba. My question be say wetin dis dem Jonathan man dey do for Jarusalem sef, abi enof wahala no dey home?”

    The mad boy looked at the woman with wry bemusement and then shot back with a pithy and pitiless Efik proverb. “ My sista, make una leave am. Dem thing wey drive monkey go climb palm tree still dey for the bottom of dem palm tree”.

    “Make dem man no go quench for Jarusalem ooo”, the woman drawled.

    “Why not?” Okon snorted.

    “No be for dem yeye place dem dey wake up after sotey three days?”the Urhobo lady noted with a devilish wink.

    “Sista, I hear you, I hear you” Okon croaked and waved off the naughty wench. It was then the turn of a Yoruba man in battered suit who stepped forward with professorial solemnity. With his tangled and unkempt hair style, he seemed on the verge of losing a long-drawn battle of the mind. The man lunged at Baba Lekki with cat-like agility.

    “Wo, Baba Elegiri, or whatever funny name they call you. Give me a sexual theory of armoured cars with immediate effect. I am tired of all this hilarious harlequinade”, the man screamed.

    Sensing a kindred soul, Baba Lekki eyed the man with tipsy affection and admiration. “Out of the welter of national confusion comes a sober and sane mind”, the old sage began and then suddenly lapsed into pidgin French with alacrity, “Mais mon ami, L’amour cest la paramour”.

    “Ha, ha mon ami, cest bon, cest bon”, the strange man nodded severally. It was at this point that a gang of irreverent urchins broke up the proceeding.

  • Baba Lekki unfolds his coat of arms

    Whilst we are still on the subject of whimsical and arbitrary rule and its self-perpetuating dynamics, it is proper to report that arbitrary violence is a logical fallout of arbitrary rule. Arbitrary rule is an act of psychological violence against the populace. Accustomed to the routine and wanton cruelty of arbitrary rule, arbitrary violence takes root in the society as everybody luxuriates in the superiority of brute intimidation.

    Last Tuesday as snooper was making his way through the vehicular maelstrom of Matori, a group of desperate urchins sitting atop a moving train and armed with stones the size of boulders were aiming their hand propelled grenades at passing vehicles. One of the crude missiles landed just behind snooper and made such a clattering noise that the fear of the lord was driven into everybody. Nobody could have stopped a moving train. This is as close to Hades as it could get on earth.

    A few days later, snooper was still ruminating on this apocalyptic meltdown when he was confronted by a most outlandish sight in the kitchen. It was a glum and gloomy Baba Lekki wearing a huge outsize coat with its front pockets bulging with poorly concealed weapons of mass destruction. His face was grotesquely swollen with a massive lump superimposed on what used to be his nose. He looked like somebody who had just managed to extricate himself from a giant rodent trap with telltale wounds. Snooper was secretly enthralled by this remarkable discomfiture of the old contra and master of anticipatory violence. But all efforts to draw him out about the nature of his plight failed woefully.

    “Okon, which one be this one again oo, or has your baba become a comedian?” snooper asked gleefully, casting a wicked glance at the human fiasco in the kitchen.

    “Oga, dis one no be matter of comedian ooo. Even dem comedian dey cry for Lagos, becos palaver no be dem play and anikura come pass alawada. You know say Eko na wicked place. He no good make dem small yeye boys dey beat old man. Na dem beat baba sotey for Idumota him head no correct again. You no see how him Yoruba nose come big pass him mouth? Na dem panel beat am silly silly. He get one kata Yoruba welder boy for Oshodi. Him name be Kamoru. Na him dey beat dem people. Efen police sef him dey beat dem. He come beat dem policeman like dat he come shit for uniform”, Okon retorted, eyeing Baba Lekki with a wicked grin.

    “Okon, so why is he wearing this big coat?” snooper asked, trying hard not to burst into laughter.

    “Na him native insurance be dat one. Inside one pocket baba get dem heavy stones, inside another him get dem blade and dem jack knives and inside dem top pocket him put dem Awka pistol and dem Yoruba juju. If Baba hit dem elephant with dat one elephant go kaput”, Okon sniggered.

    “Men, this is anarchy”, snooper exclaimed.

    “Anarchy ko, inaki ni”, Baba Lekki rumbled at last with violent scorn even as he sulked like an infant.

    “Okon, tell him not to come to this house with this coat again”, snooper ordered with a comic frown.

    “Ha oga, I no fit tell am dat oo. Baba say na him coat of army be dat. You no say baba be old soldier for dem Congo. Na for Congo dem wild monkey come bite him head fiam fiam and baba him head no correct again “ Okon snorted.

    “I said coat of arms and not army coat”, Baba Lekki groaned as he wobbled out of the house to snooper’s immense relief.