Yes, said someone to me rather violently, Nigerians have now become enlightened. They now know their rights (and lefts too) and no one can come again and think the presidency belongs to his father and stay there permanently. If anyone messes up, we vote him out!
Congratulations, Nigeria! No, no. I am not congratulating us on electing a new president; I am felicitating with us on our new found voice. Last Saturday, we all went out to make our statements: oh no, we do not want Jonathan – we want Buhari; or oh yes, we want Jonathan – we do not want Buhari. Resolutely, Nigerians went out to choose for themselves someone whom they hoped would lead them at least somewhere towards the Promised Land. One of them did emerge, but only because we all agreed to disagree gently. Honestly, it was a very gratifying thing to hear Nigerians speak with one discordant voice and still hear each other.
Normally, one would not expect Nigerians to ever be able to speak with one voice on account of the very sharp lines of division. To hear each other hitherto, you had to be of the same ethnic or religious or family or spousal or eating group. Only twice have our voices crossed these boundaries. One of them was when we decried Jonathan’s subsidy removal plans. Now, that plan stung so much we all collectively shouted, ‘what the heck!’ I think that was why we stood up together. The polls however were another challenge. When we voted Jonathan in, we all did stand together after a fashion; I remember that a part of the north was not altogether standing the way the rest of us were on the matter; they were sprinting and shouting war hooplas. Unfortunately, many died.
So yes, the previous experiences of Nigerians at the polls did not quite prepare us for last week’s surprise. Quite previously, whoever could among the political contestants found ways of snatching ballot boxes, stuffing ballot boxes or got someone to do some dirty tricks for him for some hefty sums. I think people generally call that rigging. By hook or by crook (often by crook), the payer found himself smiling to the polls as it translated to smiling to the banks, courtesy of the payee. He didn’t care that it was usually not courtesy of the electorate. The reason was that the numbers that ‘declared’ him winner of the ‘election’ often exceeded his expectation, and the voting population. Now, who can argue with that?!
That meant of course that all the while he got to enjoy his illicit time, purchased at a price, the politician did not care a hoot about the electorate whom he did not need in the first place; so why serve the blighters? That was the trend before in Nigeria until last week. Last week, Nigerians spoke; and when the deaf and dumb speaks, there are bound to be some surprises.
First, there was the surprise of number. People really did turn out, including reluctant ones like me. And they came prepared. The reports say people brought their chairs and mats. Well, I saw the mats. I saw the chairs. I even saw the kind they roll up and when you unfold them, you are not sure a tent or house will come up. I saw the water coolers, the soft-drink coolers, the lunch boxes… When the polls were really delayed in my polling unit, one woman told the security personnel that she had finished her breakfast and lunch on the queue (she showed them the plates), and the time for her dinner was fast approaching; so they had better let her vote or else they would be in real trouble. They let her in. In my unit, the queue appeared endless, with me bringing up the rear of course, until one gentleman courteously stepped in. So you can imagine how many meals I required that day in order to vote…
The greatest surprises were the results, real and doctored. But who is to tell? I think we can safely leave the detecting to the forensic experts and calmly get on with our lives in the mean time. Up till this morning, the radio was still singing many people’s swan songs – Aliyu’s failed senatorial bid, Suswan’s failed senatorial bid, Adeyemi’s failed senatorial re-election bid, and on and on and on.
These things used to be automatic. Whatever a politician wanted, he got. Many writers have noted the political culture around here that allows a ‘winner’ to jump into the treasury and roll around in it like a cockroach in a flour bin. This motivated many otherwise innocent people to become politicians and transmute into unrecognizable monsters who preyed on the people’s low interest level. So, an individual would leave the state assembly for the House of reps then to the senate then to the governor’s chair then back to senate, ad infinitum, without anyone challenging him in the state. Talk of recycling oneself.
Then, of course, there were the successful bids topped by that of Gen. Buhari’s in his fourth bid. Unfortunately, the guy hardly smiles; if he did, I would have said he would be grinning from ear to ear by now. Imagine, FOURTH bid! When I tell my dog to come for his food once and he doesn’t, I generally just give up on him. Now, I think I’ve learnt to be a little more patient: I will call him a second time, but I doubt if I can call him four times.
Many people have commented on the portentous fact that Nigerians did not only go out to vote, they had begun a new culture: trying out one president at a time. If they liked him, he would stay; if they did not, he would go. They say it like they are talking about trying on dresses. Come on! Yes, said someone to me rather violently; Nigerians have now become enlightened. They now know their rights (and lefts too, I might add) and no one can come again and think the presidency belongs to his father and stay there permanently. If anyone messes up, we vote him out! Excellent!
I find the fact that an underperforming president can be voted out rather thrilling, you know, like a drunk feels tremours course down his body when he sees a bottle of beer. I say I rather like it. However, this election has brought out a troubling fact: Nigeria’s persistent bad voting pattern. I don’t know if you noticed that most of Jonathan’s votes came from his kinsmen, the south-eastern part of the country, while the larger chunk of Buhari’s votes came from his kinsmen, the north. It left the third part of the country, the south-west, to break the tie. I am so buggered about it I keep thinking: when will these primordial ethno-religious cleavages stop? What will happen if the third factor is itself divided down the middle? When will we consider a man’s worth more than his money, tribe or religion? I take solace in someone’s consoling words: we are still young and growing in this democracy thing; it is enough for now that we can elect someone with a clear majority. Leave the fine things like personal integrity for later. Ok, I reply, I will leave well alone.
For now, it is enough that Nigerians have learnt to speak with one determined voice; so people of the world, Hail the Nigerian Electorate; it is growing up! The upside of growing up, to use a foreign terminology, is that people tend to know their minds; and the downside is that it is never good for the parent’s blood pressure. The political parties, particularly the PDP and the APC, would do well to learn this lesson and grow up quickly too. NIGERIANS ARE NO LONGER WILLING TO SIT, GRIN AND BEAR IT. THEY NOW FIGHT BACK, WITH THE BALLOT, EVERY FOUR YEARS. Congratulations, Gen. Buhari.
