Ordinarily, the season of “arelu” ought not to have been. That is emphatically given. You ask why? Such unpleasant season has its profound characteristics.
Its predecessors include, but not limited to; very serious and unrelenting warnings, counsel, advice, hints and tips. Without which it will not happen. Solutions are meticulously lay bare. For those who have ears to hear.
Before such a season. Escape routes are always provided. Most of the time, the season of “arelu” is rare. It scarcely happens in the life of a nation.
But when it does, it’s mostly devastating, endless, ceaseless and seamless. Why? Because it is almost always self-inflicted. So it is with us. It happened to us because of our greed, avarice. How?
First this. “Arelu” is unarguably a Yoruba word. An attempted English interpretation: Monumental calamities occurring in quick succession. As in the speed of light!
The ugly and calamitous season is dressed in a unique feature. Surprised? In all of this, the warnings, wise counsel are ignored.
The carriers of these wise counsel are rejected, molested, et al. They are ridiculously named names that are not theirs. Some are isolated. Some banished for life. Others pay the supreme price. Death is their lot for speaking the truth.
These carriers are equally endowed with special qualities. They’re bold, brave, courageous. They fear no earthly man. And no evil ever intended. They are heaven-sent.
The reason they possess uncanny audacity. They have a purpose for their harsh utterances. And it must be fully fulfilled. So? No friends, no foes.
The good holy book aptly testifies as much. The Bible is dotted with these carriers. It’s never in short supply of these Prophets.
But the stiff-necked children of Israel treated them despicably. They never listened to their cries. The evil in them re-christened them “prophets of doom.” They were the wailers of their time.
Yet, the Prophets remained dogged, unperturbed. Steadfastness and uprightness were their watchwords. They never for a moment derailed. Theirs was mission must be accomplished.
The more they were castigated. The more emboldened they were. The chastisement became the tonic they needed. The rebuke was the fuel that fuelled the engine of resilience in them.
That was why the children of Israel paid dearly for it. They couldn’t have escaped the wrath of God. As it was in the beginning, so it is now. And so it will be for eternity. It changeth not!
True. Our season of “arelu” didn’t start today. Not yesterday, or the days before. “Arelu” has been with for quiet a while. But we feigned it. Specifically our rulers did and still doing. That gets us worried. It’s written all over us.
By the second, we are itching closer. Even nearest to its height. The zenith is imminent. We’re knocking carelessly at its anti-climax.
Like the Israelites of old. Our leaders have turned on their deaf ears. They have lost their bearings in every sense of it. They no longer hear us.
So, they can’t listen to us. They have twisted their electioneering promises. Though we know the bulk of promises are vague and ambiguous. Some are outright falsehoods and pure deceit.
Our season of “arelu” is rapid. We nearly can catch up with its uncommon pace. The samplers are in legion. We have lost the count. Our “short” memory can carry us through.
This exemplar is far from being exciting. It is appalling; it’s nauseating. Perhaps, the reason the calamity sneaked into our life.
It came like a thief it is. It was dead in the “silent” night. To kill, steal and destroy. All unpalatably rolled into a detestable one.
It remained a top secret until the user could bear it no longer. It was intentionally kept from our prying eyes. But you can’t fool all the people all the time. Neither can you always have your way.
A one billion-naira vehicle! That is not an item you can just carelessly hide in your pocket. And you fake nothing is amiss. You can’t continue driving it within your premises. No matter how sprawling. You must put it into use. It has to be on the roads. And in public glare.
So it was on Wednesday, August 14, 2024. The day President Bola Tinubu was compelled to unveil his latest: American wonder machine! He made an irritating public show of it. Armoured Cadillac Escalade is it.
Worst still, he elected to do it in grand style. He was chauffeured in it to the Abuja Airport that Wednesday. His destination: Malabo, Equatorial Guinea.
He left us to our hopeless fate. To continue yelling. And crying over spilled milk. Cadillac Escalade’s price tag is worrisome. A staggering N995,015,000! Just N5 million short of N1 billion.
His predecessors were lenient with us. They made do with “ordinary” Mercedes Maybach S-Class. Our President wouldn’t buy into that. He can’t sacrifice his pleasure for our collective sake.
He was clear in his mind. He needed the machine so badly. And he got one for “just” N1billion. He would not compromise its urgency. Our predicaments, pains, sufferings and hardships? Oh, those can be easily undermined, traded off. What would that cost him? Absolutely nothing!
That’s how Tinubu wants us to endure his flamboyance and gross insensitivity. That’s how he feels our pains to his marrow. What an arrogant manner to insist we must be patient!
There’s no reasonable reason for this. There’s no language or word to explain this evil away. And if there’s such an insensitive attempt. We vehemently refuse to be swayed otherwise.
Imagine! What N1billion could achieve in rural communities. It would bring some telling life-changing effects to them. But that wouldn’t be. Presidential Armoured Cadillac Escalade is a better option!
It is in sharp contrast to what’s playing out in Burkina Faso. A land-locked country. It is launching itself into the space. And that plan will come into fruition before December 2024 runs out.
Its leader, Ibrahim Traore is barely three years in office.
Where is our Nigeria Sat? Moribund and incapacitated. The stinking result of greed and wickedness. That’s what we are launching in our weird clime.
Burkina Sat will do wonders. It’s going to be a game changer. It will monitor and protect its territory against insurgencies. Accurate whether report and rain alert. This will be accompanied with food security and disaster.
But Tinubu remained stoutly undeterred. He was excited with his Cadillac Escalade. Who would not? He forged ahead with all the strength in him.
In the like manner, a N150 billion new presidential jet landed on his hand. He grabbed it. He’s now running with it. Cruising every “corner and nook” of the space. In a most uncharitable conduct. Tinubu proudly jetted out with it to France, early on Monday.
Now this. Imagine the calamity that would have befell us. Had Tajudeen Abbas had his sordid way the other day. By the way, and that is if you care. Abbas is Speaker, House of Representatives.
His youthful exuberance would have landed us in the biggest calamity ever. He displayed his firm control of the House. And his Subversion Bill had a smooth sail until the bubble bust.
It scaled all odds. And jumped all hurdles. That could only happen in the “House of Abbas.” The hullabaloo that trailed his dastardly efforts worked miracles. It was to our good. Reason and reasoning prevail.
The life of the bill was instantly cut short. And it became a stillborn in the hands of Abbas. The Speaker was perplexed, dazed, to his own chagrin. He didn’t like it. But he withdrew it all the same. That’s what mattered to us.
All these are a tip in the iceberg of our calamities. They are many, many more. You can add to the odious if you feel strongly about it.
All confirm the financial recklessness and insensitivity of our on going rulers. They are far from leaders in government. They opt for “ruinners” with naked power.
They are dragging us down the crooked slope. The more we cry, the deeper they drag us. Because they have chosen not to hear our hue and cry again.
They are fed up with us. So soon! With far less than two years. They complain grudgingly that we complain too much. Our nagging puts them up. They see us as irritants.
Yes, we will forever remain huge thorns in their fleshes. There’s no going back on our resolve. It’s as strong and solid as Rock of Gibraltar. We won’t relent. We won’t cave in
They are visibly angry. And display it ferociously. They are baffled that we can’t endure anymore. They are upset that we’re tired of them this soon. They wonder aloud about our stress, our problems. We care less.
Are we not the same species? We endured Muhammadu Buhari for eight unbroken, sordid years? Why are we shunning Tinubu in barely a year? They have occupied all available spaces. Searching for invisible responses to their empty queries.
Just then Vice President Kashim Shettima wandered into our lives. Out of the blue. Uninvited, unwanted. He didn’t mince, mix or miss words. He poured out as he felt it. He wouldn’t stop at nothing to be heard.
He was apt in his actions, inactions, utterances and body language. He got the message right and correct. He knew his boss, Tinubu, badly needed a bailout from all these calamities.
Trust him. He staunchly rose to his defence. He had no viable choice. If he didn’t, who would? He promptly offered to rescue him. He didn’t have to be told to do the needful. He made his services available. And generously too. He was down on his knees. He begged us for understanding.
He pleaded passionately to spare Tinubu: “Give him breathing space.” He vowed Tinubu meant well. He swore he had a deep knowledge of Tinubu.
His testimony: “In President Bola Ahmed Tinubu we have a leader that we can invest our trust in. I’m not playing politics. I’m speaking from the heart. I have seen the soul of Bola Tinubu, and he has a good soul.
“He means well for the nation. He wants to live in a place of glory. He is not in power to engage in primitive capital accumulation. He is in power to leave landmarks in the sands of time. He is the most demonised politician in Nigeria.”
He immediately remembered: “The first time I went to his house at Bourdillon (Lagos), I was looking forward to seeing a mansion comparable to Buckingham Palace, with gardens and swimming pools. But there was nothing special about that house. My house in Maiduguri is better than the house in Bourdillon” A round of applause!
Even more revelations the man who “sabi” Tinubu: “At the formative stage of the APC, we held a meeting in his house. They served us a variety of meals but he opted to take garri with groundnut for lunch.” His own way of identifying with the masses.
Shettima relented not. His meaning of a poor man: “Since I have known him, he has been using only one wristwatch, and, in fact, I dress better than him. He doesn’t even care. He has overcome all those odds to dress well. So we need to rally around this poor man. He has taken some bold steps. The economy that we met was in a huge mess.”
Should we take Shettima for his vomit? We find it hard to align with him. Our experiences in the last one and a half years? That would not permit us to do Shettima’s desperate bidding.
We dare not take your word to the bank. We have been let down several times over. Yes. By the same Tinubu you’re deodorised.
The foul odour keeps oozing out. It is choking, suffocating, strangulating. And it won’t recede now. Neither will it in the farthest future. It’s a long distance tortuous, sinuous adventure.
The reason we keep our fragile fingers crossed. Perhaps…
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