Caption :President Bola Tinubu, his wife Remi with his host Prince Charles and his wife Camilla.
I hate this abroad. It was 4:26am and the alarm on my phone jolted me from sleep. It lasted perhaps ten seconds but it broke my dawn dreams where someone stole my two phones.
I don’t sleep with my phone without switching it off, but when it comes to so-called security alerts, it will break through.
This morning, it is about a child abducted by his father. He is driving a Acura RDX with an advertised plate number. Ontario is asking anyone who sees the ‘criminal’ (my interpretation) to call 911. Asin, how? Will I see a white Acura from my second floor bed? Why break my sleep? What kind of society disturbs people’s pre-dawn revelrie because of the welfare of a single child abducted by her own father, not for ritual ó?
I’m I sure I won’t call my lawyer? Why? I am a good Nigerian, ọmọ ọlọ́mọ. Bola Ahmed Tinubu ìs my President, ọmọ olódo ọ̀dẹ̀ himself, Jagaban of Borgu and Asiwaju with the highest unearned honour. He is commander-in-chief of the biggest, baddest armed forces in Africa. Don’t believe me, well, ask Liberia and Sierra Leonean warlords. Ask the coup plotters of Benin Republic. We are not just the most populous black nation, we have the military might to back it. We fought a evil war to prove it. Joke with Nigeria at your own peril.
Yes I am a born and raised citizen of a country living on past bragging rights and I am proud of it, or I’m I? Yet, I will dare not drive to Okeagi as I would drive to New York City day or night. I’d need to consult my boka and fortify myself, not against kill and go security agents, but bandits and kidnappers. Please don’t tell Governor Usman Ododo because I know he can organize a special convoy for me, and thanks, but no thanks. I’ve resigned to not seeing my late father’s resting place. I know that I too, like him, will die one day.
I am not like my forebears, I don’t know the formula that can render me invincible to kidnappers and I don’t have a life insurance that can cover the demands of bandits, so I cover myself under a duvet in Ottawa and sometimes heckle the government in Nigeria. I am like Trump. He can send his troops to the Straits of Hormuz, knowing that Washington is beyond the reach of Iranian missiles. But I digress.
Back to my amiable president who sometimes stumble and fall as I do now on staircases. As commander in chief, my president knew that people were kidnapped in Ẹgbẹ several times, but he didn’t send help. He must have heard that it happened in sleepy, otherwise peaceful Okeagi, but where is that dot on the map of Kogi State. My very wonderful Governor Ododo has closed all schools and markets in Yàgbàland and we will vote for Tinubu in 2027 as a mark of gratitude for making it safer for criminals than law-abiding citizens. It is our duty.
Okeagi is luckier than Woro, in Kwara State where kidnap victims are still languishing in inhumane conditions. The captives are better than the victims of the blast in Maiduguri who will never get the justice they deserve.
Not to be termed a critic, which is worse than being corrupt these days given that the corrupt, morally and ethically usually become ministers and ambassadors. Again, sleep deprived digression.
In spite of the unseriousness of combating terrorism at home, on the eve of my president’s much celebrated official visit to the the Britain that lost its greatness, brigands planted three explosive devices in different spots in Maiduguri, waited until people had gathered and pressed the button for maximum damage.
The story could have hit the headlines but who will reject the invitation of their colonial overlords to go and commiserate with people who are foolish enough to go to the market? Certainly not my president. He emptied the cabinet and fired up several planes (we have a dozen of them) and flew across the Atlantic to land in Gatwick from where, dressed in their Sunday and Sallah best, they were received in insane opulence – open carriages decked with rare minerals stolen from Africa.
Everyone who is someone was at the Palace. Ministers, the nation’s security chiefs, the president of the the rubberstamp legislature – everyone. There were sweet speeches about the supremacy of Nigerian jollof rice over others and why Naija No Dey Carry Las-no apology to Pius Adesanmi, a victim of Nigeria happening to its best citizens. And most of all, nobody sullied the convivial atmosphere by mentioning the stupid victims of the Maiduguri blasts. We live by scriptural dictum – let the dead bury their dead.
Yes, and yes, it wasn’t all Windsor Castle photo-ops and the joy of breaking fast in the most opulent dinning hall in the world. No, if that was all the largest invaders of the Brutish monarchy ever did, the Guinness Book of Insouciance would have given us an entry. No. Our president is much like Jack, apologies to General Gowon! Our president works while he plays like most kids on their computer games consul.
My able President and his grieving in opulence ministers took time to clear the dinner tables well enough to sign contracts. Yes, they did. And no, they have not agreed to repatriate the thousands of health workers who run the British NHS (some say ruin, but ask Bwala for the definition of the word context). No. Those ones got to stay, the King needs them. Poor chap just beat cancer, his princess daughter in law did the same. In Nigeria, they’d be six feet under. Who says Britain does not appreciate good things?
Now, Britain hates bad things, and I will never add Kemi Badenough to that list, she is Essex running on Naija blood and proud of it – the Britishness, that is! I am talking about the Japa crew with no fixed income or address, the stragglers, the rapists, the murderers and child kidnappers(after completing their sentences of course) are returning. Yes, bring them back. If Nigeria is happy to call bandits their kinsfolks, why pretend that the jejunes that stowed away to burden Britain are less welcome back?
And lest I forget, Nigeria also signed loans. Sorry, unlike Nigeria, Britain always works for British interest. So they tied our future to more loans. Why not? Obasanjo got debt relief and went back to the loan sharks, our very own ọmọ olódo ọdẹ signed off on the loans, without reading the fine prints. After a certain age, fine prints are for decoration.
Anyway, like all good things, the August visit in March has ended and our president has returned home to Bourdillon to enjoy Eid and be reunited with anyone else that was unfortunate enough not to accompany him to London to visit the King. Why, even our First Son flew in his own plane, yes, with the national anthem – not the reverted Nigeria we wail thee, no, the mandate one, yes.
Lọ́rọ̀ kan ṣá, our hard-working President is back on holidays, which in fact is when we see much of him. Did you ask about Ẹgbẹ, Okeagi, Woro and Maiduguri? What a stupid question to ask? Who sponsored you? Who do you think you’re talking to? How dare you disrespect the highest office in the land with questions about accountability?
Sorry, if you have read this far, please remember that Ontario alert system woke me up from peaceful sleep. I am not responsible for any interpretation you give this rant. I am a Nigerian-Canadian and sorry you can’t come and beat me, I will call 911, Doug Ford will ‘make some noise’, Mark Carney will put the Royal Canadian Mounted Troop on your case. You will hear from him.
How dare they, wake me up because a father had a quarrel with his baby Mama and decided to snatch the baby and make a run for it? Do they know how many have been killed or kidnapped since you started reading this drivel in homeland Nigeria? Will it stop Our Mama from joining the congregation to worship on this holy day? If you dislike her, ask yourself, does Donald Trump know your name, or your wife’s name? He knows the name of our First Lady, and that, my friends is an uncommon achievement.
Will I sue Ontario for waking me up at dawn? No. It’s not in my character, I will whine and go back to sleep, after all, it’s a work free day. Happy Sunday folks, every mọlà with him kettle.
Mo wain.
