“Former President Goodluck Ebele Jonathan, in his reaction to the crisis, alluded to how such a political conflagration in the South-West in the 60s truncated the First Republic. I do hope someone is taking notes of the events in Rivers State. A lot of people fought for this democracy. I have checked the list, and I couldn’t find Wike’s name there. Fubara’s name is equally not listed among the ones who swallowed fire so that the present locusts in power could drink water”.
Omóníjó (A child has his day) was born into a small and heavily oppressed royal family. His lineage was marginalised by the other siblings. On his birthday, Omóníjó’s father, Ifátúbèrú (Ifa worth being feared), took him for divination to determine what his future would be.
The diviner, an old blind man called Mókomomótunúrè (Don’t teach a child more than what nature has deposited in him), after casting his Òpèlè, sighed. He told the curious father that the little boy would be great and would triumph over adversaries. But there were conditions attached.
The Babalawo told Ifátúbèrú that for the little Omóníjó to attain what Ifa said about him, he must be soft as èko and be solid as a rock (Omóníjó á rò bi èko, á tún le bi òkúta).
The Oracle warned that although the little boy had an eruptive nature, he must be guided to suppress those volcanoes within him and play the fool until he is of age to exhibit what destiny had deposited in him. Otherwise, Ifa warned, Omóníjó would end up like a snake which glides on the rock and leaves no trace. But that was not all.
The diviner said that for Omóníjó to be able to combine the two qualities of a soft and hard man without exhibiting his tempestuous nature, as soon as he was weaned, he must be taken to the home of the most cantankerous man in the land to learn the virtue of patience! What a contrast!
The only man in the land then that had the qualities Ifa mentioned was one old intemperate called Amómoekùnsajásín (He who takes the cub of a tiger like a puppy). Amómoekùnsajásín needed no one to provoke him before he would fight. He was provocation personified. He was a man who thrived only when there were crises. And he took no prisoners! Omóníjó’s journey to adulthood was indeed a complex one.
The complexity notwithstanding, Ifátúbèrú did exactly as Ifa directed. As soon as Omóníjó was weaned at age three, he was taken to the home of Amómoekùnsajásín. Zoologists, animal scientists and biologists all agree on the ferociousness of the tiger. It was at the home of a man who shared the same nature with the tiger that the lad was brought up. From time to time, Omóníjó’s father would check up on him and remind him of the injunctions that he must not exhibit his latent eruptive nature, no matter the provocation until it was the fullness of time.
Growing up in an irascible environment, the lad behaved like a fool. He lost his meals to lesser beings many times, but he would not fight back. He was ill-treated countless times, but he maintained his cool. On most occasions, Omóníjó was punished for offences he did not commit but never complained.
The entire household of Amómoekùnsajásín dismissed him as a never-do-well, a born fool. He was like Tommy, the character in Kenny Rogers’ song, “Coward of the Country”, who “Everyone considered him to be the coward of the country/He’d never stood one single time/To prove the country wrong/. Only the patriarch of the family knew that the little boy was destined to be great. And the master taught the lad all he needed for life’s journey. The old man held nothing back from the lad, who turned out to be a fast learner himself!
He served his apprenticeship, and his father took him back to the old Babalawo to offer thanksgiving offerings to Ifa. It was a great celebration and Omóníjó was released to the world to join the rest of humanity in the journey of life.
Even upon his release to the world, the adult Omóníjó carried on the way he did in the home of his master. Many who did not know about his tutelage took him for another dull man in town. They served his meals cold and gave him the shorter end of the stick. Omóníjó took everything in his stride.
Then a day came. The Oba on the throne joined his ancestors. It was the turn of the Omóníjó’s family to ascend the throne. But because they had remained a subjugated people, the entire community gathered and decided to give the title to another family. Incidentally, Omóníjó’s mentor and master, Amómoekùnsajásín, was leading the pack.
Initially, Omóníjó thought it was a joke. He never believed that his master, who trained him in all acts, arts and means, would be the one to lead the conspiracy to deny his family his rights. Nevertheless, as custom demanded, Omóníjó’ took the elders of his family and gifts to see Amómoekùnsajásín on the obaship matter.
True to his nature, Amómoekùnsajásín did not give a listening ear to the visiting party. He showed them why he was feared and revered at the same time. He forgot that one of his best apprentices was in attendance. The old man did not realise that there was no secret of the game Omóníjó did not learn from him. The party left his house.
On their way home, Omóníjó’s family decided to visit the old blind diviner, Mókomomótunúrè. The Babalawo did not allow them to sit down. He asked them what they wanted. They told him their predicament. The diviner said, without casting his Òpèlè, that the solution lay in his name. So, he asked the consulting party what his name was. They chorused Mókomomótunúrè (Don’t teach a child more than what nature has deposited in him). The old man rolled up his divination mat and entered his inner chamber, leaving the party to solve the riddle.
Omóníjó got the message. Ifa had no further instructions for them. He dropped the usual gifts for Ifa and he led his family members back home. At home, he called an extended family meeting, where he told them to prepare for the coronation of a new king. “Ha”, the family shouted. “Who is going to be the new king?” They asked him. Beating his chest, Omóníjó roared: “I am the new king. My coronation is ìtàdógún – 17 days.”
Those who heard him trembled. They looked for where the voice came from. Omóníjó’s countenance became fear itself. His eyes dilated dangerously. His nostrils emitted a fuse. He looked exactly like a Tiger, ready to pounce, unprovoked. His father, Ifátúbèrú, thanked his Babalawo, and the Babalawo in turn thanked Ifa. The people were emboldened. The battle line was drawn.
Seventeen days came. The traditional drum was beaten. Ifátúbèrú led his son, Omóníjó, to the inner shrine. The loyal kingmakers asked him to choose which swaddling clothes he would wear and Omóníjó chose the skin of the Tiger (Awo Ekùn). For his crown, he chose the one carved with several skulls of the Tiger. And for his staff, he picked the one decorated with the eyes of the Tiger; and picked the tail of a Tiger in place of horsetail!
The new Oba came out of the groove like a Tiger to the waiting battle party of the rebellious group led by Amómoekùnsajásín. Oba Omóníjó remembered his name. A child has his day. He leapt on the party. He spotted those who maltreated him in the house of his master and dealt them deadly blows.
He did not spare the ones who called him a fool and gave them the fool’s treatment. He made for the master himself. Amómoekùnsajásín saw what was to befall him. He fled in all wings. But for the fact that he was the master himself, Amómoekùnsajásín’s reign of terror would have ended that day. He escaped, but he was badly bruised. Omóníjó did not pursue him. He knew another day would come. Omóníjó triumphed as Ifa predicted. And Omóníjó’s lineage, nay, the entire community, became liberated. Every man must indeed answer his name on the most important day. Omóníjó did that in that battle of survival.
Our elders are wise. They counsel that once a Tiger helps in sharpening the incisors of its cub, it should avoid being bitten by the cub. A bad leader must produce the worst apprentice. Why leaders don’t learn from the above wisdom baffles me. I chose the above old but long folktale to start today’s piece. I did so because I found the moonlight tale relevant to contemporary Rivers State.
When the crisis between Governor Siminalayi Fubara of Rivers State and his predecessor cum godfather, Nyelsom Wike, broke out, I did a piece titled: “Fubara, Wike and day I broke duck’s eggs”, on December 19, 2023, on this page. In that piece, I called on the godfather of all godfathers, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, to step in and settle the matter to avoid the danger hanging on Rivers State and, by extension, Nigeria, if the crisis was allowed to fester. I made that call because I believed then, as I still do now, that whatever muscle Wike is pulling, it is because he has the Federal Government behind him.
I never expected the President to act. It was not politically wise for him to do so. President Tinubu needs a ruined Wike for him (Tinubu) to take hold of Rivers State. The President knew that Wike, like the foolish Tortoise on a perilous journey, would not relent until he was thoroughly disgraced. Our leaders of this era needed all the weak men they could get around them to remain in power. Wike never realised this, hence, he continued his journey to political perdition!
I watched the video of Governor Fubara’s short ‘press conference’ on Saturday morning on the premises of the Rivers State Independent Electoral Commission (RSIEC). The governor was said to have held the ‘press conference’ by 1.00 am on Saturday, hours before the contentious local government election in the state. In the video, Fubara said, among other things, that “…This election must hold. If you like, whatever it is you like to do, do it. The election will hold, results will be declared, people will be sworn in…” He uttered those words in reference to the biases the police high command had shown in the crisis.
When I heard those words and the gesticulation of the governor, the voice that rang in my head and the words I heard were those of Omóníjó, when he roared: “I am the new king. My coronation is ìtàdógún.”
And just as he declared, the local government election took place in all the 23 local government areas of the state. Results were declared and all the winners were sworn in. Governor Fubara did all that without the police providing security. It would also interest all to note that no violence was recorded while the election lasted. Wike and his men were nowhere near Rivers State while all that took place. But that should not be mistaken for peace!
This is exactly what happens whenever any typical Amómoekùnsajásín attempts to hold on to the leash of the ram offered to the deity. Every godfather must learn to draw the line and be conscious of when he is crossing the red line. Wike, in this crisis, has demonstrated so far that though he is bold, his courage is brash, tactless, and bereft of the necessary ingredients of native intelligence. A man who doesn’t know when to apply the brakes must run with his tail between his legs like Amómoekùnsajásín did in the fable above.
How on earth Wike thinks that Fubara did not learn the banditry that is the hallmark of Wike’s political dynasty in Rivers State is something I cannot comprehend! Why the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory (FCT), did not learn from the wise saying that nobody looks down on a day-old corpse without losing his garment to the gods, interrogates how much of his childhood he spent with the elders. That is a pity.
With the outcome of the Rivers State council election, Wike certainly has something bigger coming for him unless he stops in his tracks now. But whatever may be his lot in the impending loom, I can only wish him a full portion of what he deserves.
My concern here, however, is the implications of the Rivers State shenanigans and political banditry on our democracy. I have no doubt within me that it is not yet Uhuru for the oil-rich state. The days, weeks and months ahead are pregnant.
As I penned this, information filtered in that armed men had set some local government secretariats in Rivers State ablaze in what appeared to be a ‘counterattack’. Unfortunately for the hapless citizens of the state, they have, in this period, the most unprofessional, biased and brazen security agencies to contend with. While the arson lasted, no single security agent was sighted. The arsonists had a field day to operate!
This is where my fear lies. This is where the danger hangs, precariously. A security architecture that allowed non-state actors to supervise the Rivers State council election the way it happened last Saturday can do anything. Such pliable security agencies would look the other way even if the Pope’s Cathedral is set on fire! Rivers State is a ticking bomb!
Former President Goodluck Ebele Jonathan, in his reaction to the crisis, alluded to how such a political conflagration in the South-West in the 60s truncated the First Republic. I do hope someone is taking notes of the events in Rivers State. A lot of people fought for this democracy. I have checked the list, and I couldn’t find Wike’s name there. Fubara’s name is equally not listed among the ones who swallowed fire so that the present locusts in power could drink water.
This is why all lovers of good things must rise and condemn the destructive tendencies of the Wikes of this era. This democracy is like the proverbial hut which the owner must protect from the ruinous flood aiming at its foundation. The Wikes of this era have enough to take them out of this country if anything odd happens. Many of us with nowhere else to turn must unite in our resolve to save our nation. The docility and complicity of the Presidency in this matter is highly censurable. The roof is about to come down on all of us!
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