Tag: ‘resurrected’

And what in the world do they mean by tagging you a murderer of truth? They said you looked at them straight in the face and danced through your lies to the embrace of your husband. They wondered why it took you close to four months to come out with the half-truth, knowing that you never told anyone what you were actually treated for. In that split moment of self-glorification, the truth that had been hidden for months hit us like thunderbolt. By the time you finished the sermon on how you were brought back from the dead, you left us searching for the appropriate words to describe your conduct. Some called you a despicable liar. But I believe that was too harsh. I’d rather put it mildly by saying you were simply being economical with the truth. That’s a nicer way of saying it. It is a special privilege that Nigerian citizens accord top citizens; we are a grateful nation and we dare not accuse the highly-placed of lying from both sides of the mouth. For three harrowing months, you twisted logic and foisted the most incongruous illogic on us. I’ll explain, Ma.

But first, your words when you mounted the pulpit on that innocent Sunday: “I actually died; I passed out for more than a week. My intestine and tummy were opened. I am not Lazarus but my experience was similar to his own. My doctors said all hope was lost.

“A black doctor in London who is with us in this service was flown in when the situation became critical. It was God himself in His infinite mercy that said I would return to Nigeria. God woke me up after seven days. I know that some people somehow leaked the information that I was dead. They are people that I trust and rely on; to them, I was dead and I would never return to the country alive. Some of them even sold my things off.

“I won’t say everything here. It is the Lord’s doing that I returned alive. When God says yes, nobody can say no. People are always afraid of operation (surgery) but in my own case, while my travail lasted, I was begging for it (surgery) after the third operation because I was going to the theatre every day. It was God who saw me through. I did eight or nine operations within one month. It was not an easy one.”

Now, my observations: Take, for example, the belated comparison of your ordeal to that of Lazarus in the Bible. From Nigeria to the Bible; indeed, you and your ways have come a long way Ma. People said if it was indeed true that you ‘died” for seven days before God’s healing balm touched you through your doctors, then you missed the chance to praise Him by, first, baying for the blood of imaginary enemies on your arrival in Nigeria. They said you went off the cuff by blowing the trumpet of no surgery in Germany when you actually went under doctors’ scalpels more than eight times! They also noted that your confession was lacking in key details and they are asking salient questions—If it was not “that hospital”, which hospital did you stay for the six weeks? If it was not cosmetic surgeryor tummy tuck, what were you treated for? Was it food poisoning as being alleged or could it be common cold and catarrh or even toothache? You see, the ways of VIPS like you never cease to confound us.

Madam, you missed the point if you think that those asking these questions do not wish you well. On the contrary, they are your true friends—the ones that would never think of selling off your things because you were on a sick bed. They are not even qualified to become business fronts to the high and mighty. All they want from you is to set good examples. They want to see a virtuous woman that would not take God’s mercy for granted. They said your ‘resurrection’ will only have meaning if you begin to truly touch lives positively. For your information, there are too many vulnerable children out there who have no access to basic healthcare; many Nigerians cannot afford treatment for common ailments like malaria and flu; countless others rely on self-medication; and many more have died due to poor healthcare facilities.

Yet, in this country, billions of dollars are frittered on medical tourism by those who are expected to make the system work. White elephants are erected to satisfy the taste of those in power. These, to my mind, are the physical evidence of wasted billions. Has it ever crossed your mind Ma that that black medical doctor that was flown from the United Kingdom to save your life, and who was probably flown into the country with taxpayers’ money just that he could attend your extravagant thanksgiving ceremony, could have been working in any of our medical facilities if they have not been turned into glorified consulting clinics! It grew so bad that those who loot the public till now travel abroad to give their teeth a clean wash! State governors and their lackeys now retain the services of medical personnel in far-flung countries while the hospitals at home rot away. There is no doubting the fact that your famed ‘resurrection’ must have left more than a modest dent on the nation’s leaky treasury. We, the people, thank God for your life. And in doing that, we hope that we would not have to die before having the chance to exhale….like you just did even if yours was heavily garnished with tissues of lies!

For the records Ma, I hope you understand that my piece is not an affront. Some people don’t like telling the truth, others don’t like hearing it. The truth hurts for a little while, but lies hurt forever. That you were given a second chance by the Ceeator demands something deeper and ennobling. A little bit of introspection should make it clearer. If only you can take a pulse and reflect on these things, you will understand that your decision to side-kick imaginary enemies devalues the essence of the office. However, in all this, the choice is yours for one lie often begets another. Good enough, truth is eternally triumphant. Make your choice, Ma!

Madam, I greet you in the splendour of your majesty.First, a clarification—I am not one of those ‘bad belle’

people who wished you dead when you were enjoying a well-deserved rest in Wiesbaden, Germany, last year. I am not one of those lackeys who would rather tell you what you crave to hear either. Under the current administration, Nigeria’s multi-billion Naira sycophancy industry has blossomed in a phenomenal pattern. But I am not one of those ‘lucky few’ who gravitate around your corridors of power. Instead, like every other nosy journalist, my interest then was where you, Nigeria’s First Lady were; and what you could be up to. The implications of your action and inaction were of professional concern to me. In pursuit of the truth, I had pressed one or two buttons at the right quarters and thus the story published in this paper on how the surgeons battled to save the precious life of our First Lady—the one and only wife of our Otuoke-born President. For daring to mention the surgeon’s scalpel, some of “today’s men” hovering round your husband were quick in issuing a rejoinder, calling us names. They said we were peddling rumours; that you only relocated to Germany to have a nap as favour-seekers had made the palatial ambience of Aso Rock too stuffy for comfort. They hushed us into silence, vowing that you were never suffering from any life-threatening ailment. They urged us to wait with bated breath as we would soon witness your triumphant entry into Nigeria.

And did you disappoint when you finally waltzed into the country on October 17, 2012? No, you did not. Indeed, your return was a carnival of sorts. No small measures where you are concerned, we all know. The crowd of sympathisers were neatly arranged; buses were provided and they besieged the Presidential Wing of the Nnamdi Azikiwe Airport, Abuja, bearing different colourful placards proclaiming your invincibility. Of course, the Presidential Villa was powerfully filled with ministers and top aides falling all over themselves as usual, just to make sure that they were captured by the television cameras. That, I assumed, was more important than a handshake with the First Lady. They blushed. They grinned. They offered peripheral gestures.

They danced too. I watched as you sucked it all in. You waved as you came out of the presidential jet. It was your moment to hit back at those who shamefully lied that you had fallen ill and had been immediately air-lifted to Germany for a life-saving treatment. “Ko jo rara!” You mimicked in Yoruba. It was time to hit back at your ‘enemies dem’ and rub their noses on the bare floor. When you spoke, you minced no words in calling them bare-faced liars and nitwits. You were the woman of the moment; the newsmaker and you lapped it all. You cast the first stone right at the doorsteps of your detractors.

You fired from all cylinders, saying: “At the same time, I will use this opportunity to tell those few ones that are saying that anybody that goes to Villa or Aso Rock will die. At the same time, I read in the media where they said I was in the hospital. God almighty knows I have never been to that hospital. I don’t even know the hospital they mentioned. I have to explain what God has done for me. I do not have terminal illness, either did I do any cosmetic surgery, talk more or less of tummy tuck. My husband loves me as I am and I am pleased with how God created me. I cannot add anything.”

Madam, that memory is still fresh. In our usual fashion, your admirers must have been elated to be part of history—making the train of revellers that welcomed the wife of the President who went on a six- week unofficial rest abroad! You must have remembered how you ran into the embrace of your dear husband. Oh, it was a sight to behold as ‘Oga’ held you close, sans the probing eyes of other well-wishers and the paparazzi. We shared in that joy, knowing what that great reunion meant for the nation—the Mother of the Nation—a Permanent Secretary in Bayelsa State—is back!

The news of the denial of surgery of any kind spread like wildfire and the media became the butt of derisive joke. Quite a number of people believed you. Why shouldn’t they? You were looking radiant, refreshed and relaxed. Okay, maybe you were a bit edgy on arrival but there were no signs of weakness for the few moments you interfaced with the throng of sympathisers. You made your points, cleared your conscience, went into another prolonged rest in Aso Rock, made some cameo appearances and then quietly took off to Germany for a routine medical check-up some weeks back.

In all honesty, we thought the final curtain had fallen on that matter. We were prepared to lick our wounds. It was your word against ours, anyway. It was some kind of relief that your trip did not add to the over $500m allegedly spent on medical tourism yearly by the money guzzlers in government. In fact, that six-week nap abroad must have given you the opportunity to interact with foreign investors – not just the usual officialese when Nigerian VIPs go abroad to burn truckloads of dollars. That was the economic angle that your detractors failed to see. Now, they know better. No wonder, you promised, on your return, to “work with women of Nigeria, children and the less privileged.” No surgery, No ill health. No tummy tuck. No hospital treatment. Just a trip to observe rest!

Sadly, that was the first leg of the tale as told by you in October, 2012! Little did we know that it was a moonlight story wreathed in white lies. And, if you ask me, I will say it is a sad commentary on what leadership is all about. Some said truth was callously slaughtered and integrity thrown out of the window.