Can a stammerer be a griot? Can he tell a contrasting story? I will leave you to make your judgment… The stammerer’s full story is unfurled at the end of this piece.
Scene 1
About 27 years ago, as an undergraduate of the Premier University in Nigeria, I was at the bus stop to board a bus home. It was during a fuel scarcity that transporters exploited travellers. At the bus stop, there was no bus in sight, but the crowd there outnumbered the party stalwarts at the All Progressive Congress governorship and senatorial primaries. Suddenly, a saloon car parked, and the multitude rushed. But before I raced to the door, ripped guys and huge ladies were already at the entrance. Rather than allow others in, the driver pointed at me with the rucksack on my back. I entered with “okan kan” (one heart). By the way, I was the only one he picked from the crowd.
On our way, I asked my benefactor why he picked only me. He said that because I was the only one who had the appearance of a student. That was the Nigeria we inherited from our fathers.
Scene 2
About 10 years ago, I switched off my phone for undivided attention while doing research in the library. To get to the said library, I had to pass through a renowned expressway where an army general had been killed years back. Unbeknownst to me, my people had been making frantic efforts to reach me. Eventually, when I switched on my phone, the broadside and litany of rebuke I got from my mother was as fresh as iyan Ijesha (pounded yams). Her apprehension was pitched high, as she felt something bad must have happened to me, bearing in mind the gory stories about the expressway.
The story here depicts the Nigeria of old, where there was kindness, a modicum of trust, and truthfulness, and today, where fear, exploitation, and lust for power and money pervade our thinking.
As the dew of the old Nigeria started to evaporate, fear began to drizzle on our land.
Gradually, old Nigeria is becoming a forgotten past and wishful thinking, as Boko Haram, the startup established by Mohammed Yusuf in 2002, as well as the copycat entry strategy of ISWAP and Lakurawa, rear their heads. Over time, these market players have experienced scaling and diversification of their business, as they’ve attacked the beehives and turned “Mario”, as they say in local parlance.
The scariest part of the plot is the pivoting of these startups to a new economy, which was episodic at the early stage of the startup but is now habitual. What we have in our hands is the serial pivoting of not only the originating startups but also other unknown elements moving into the kidnapping economy.
According to data from the Armed Conflict Location and Event Data Project, Nigeria leads West Africa in conflict-related abductions. More horrifying is the fact that Nigeria has become that biblical 17-mile route, the deadly road linking Jerusalem to Jericho and noted for its notoriety. From ancient times, the route was called Adummim (Pass of Blood) because of its reddish rock and frequent bloodshed on the road, as stated in Joshua 15:7. It was on the same road that Christ told a parable to show good neighbourliness, as captured in Luke 10:25-37. The road has criss-crossed the whole country, with lives lost and dreams shattered. The dwellers of these roads are so emboldened, heartless, and gluttonous that the kopher they demand from their victims is greater than the half-shekel an Israelite pays for connectivity, redemption, and protection, as documented in Exodus 30:11-16.
The pivoting into the new venture of the dragon of Nigeria’s road can be explained by Lawrence E. Cohen and Marcus Felson’s Routine Activity Theory. They looked at crime through the prism of an event, thereby diverting academic attention from solely the offenders. The duo, in 1979, explained that three things — a motivated offender, a suitable target, and the absence of a capable guardian — must be present for crime to blossom. Mathematically, we may regard these three as sets and their point of intersection as crime.
My little grasp of political issues tells me the primary responsibility of any serious government is the protection of lives and property. When this fails, it portends the carnage that we see with the late mathematics teacher, Mr Michael Oyedokun, and the Adesiyan Adegboye incident in Ogbomoso, and the macabre dance and display of shekels on various social media platforms by dwellers of Jericho Road.
The present subterranean move to rehabilitate and turn the likes of Sunday Igboho into a security entrepreneur, along with his bunch of loud-mouthed, Chelsea gin sachet-consuming adherents at Iru Ekun Security Network, aka Ija Ekun, won’t solve the kidnapping economy. It would only increase the volatility in places where we have peace and tranquillity.
For Nigeria, the suitable targets are the hoi polloi who are already dehumanised by fuel subsidy removal and the high cost of living; the motivated offenders are those committing the dastardly act of attacking educational institutions of all levels and those who make travelling by road hellish for Nigerians; and the capable guardians are those with coercive power in positions of authority, who oftentimes put up tawdry displays in situations like this.
From the predictable display of those in government, the regularity and booming of the Jericho-plus-shekels economy, an optimist may conclude that Armageddon is here. But before we accept that our hands are tied, we can take a glance at Colombia and its choking of FARC. The strategy stands on two legs: GAULA (Special Anti-Kidnapping Elite Units) and Act 40, which freezes victims’ families’ liquidity. While the approach is not without its deficiencies, it drastically reduced the incidence in the country.
Our situation now is beyond crying; we wailed so much that our tear ducts have collapsed. My highly cerebral Yoruba people envisaged such a situation when they said: “Oro ti o ba ko ja ekun, erin la fi rin,” meaning, “Issues that are beyond crying are turned to laughter”. But can laughter be an anodyne here…?
Instead, I took solace in a poem by Adam Lindsay Gordon, Ye Wearie Wayfarer:
“Life is mostly froth and bubble,
Two things stand like stone:
Kindness in another’s trouble,
Courage in your own.”
The unknown driver who showed me benevolence that day reminds us of the beautiful side of mortals.
Kingsley Amis, a novelist, satirically rewrote the poem thus:
“Life is mainly grief and labour,
Two things get you through:
Chortling when it hits your neighbour,
Whingeing when it’s you.”
My mother’s rebuke was not overbearing; the gory tales of that expressway were deeply engrained in her.
Scene 1 is what we all crave. When would it come back to our lives?
The answer is up in the wind.
Shodunke, a media practitioner, writes via [email protected]
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