M. O. ENE
With “good” gubernatorial outcome in Lagos, we are left to deal with self-unmasking purveyors of pogrom: those learning at the ottoman of Oba of Lagos, the Bayo Onanuga brigade, the Reno Omkri renegades, Femi Fani-Kayode’s company of Hutu-ish howlers, and supposedly educated elites simmering in the stew of irresponsible irredentism. The financing politicians will recall their bloodhounds and bask in the glory of electoral heists. It is unlikely that these misguided musclemen of the streets will morph into Lagos militants.
The hullaballoo has gone but not forgotten. Sadly, this too shall repeat until confronted, or times takes its course and re-levels the polity.
Then called Brother Tee. A native of southwest Yoruba hinterland by Kwara border, we have known for 25 years. We chat often, but we have not seen each other since the pandemic. We agreed to meet midweek for drinks and delicacies and unwind the stress of Nigerian elections 2023.
The piece below is embellished.
For two weeks, I had ignored all the WhatsApp messages Tee forwarded to me. His first question was expected. As a typical Naija, I responded with a question: “Why do you feel comfortable forwarding all those crazy and ignorant texts and videos that are hateful and hurtful?” His response was ignorant but jocose. I let it slide. We talked.
In summary, we are fellow county men living abroad. We enjoy full citizenship, freedom to pursue happiness, live well, work, buy properties, pay taxes, and die happy. We vote and run for office. These rights were secured by folks who were here before us. And here we are talking about the prejudiced pursuit of political power in Lagos—the former federal capital city of Nigeria, as was New York City, a megacity of millions from all levels of life and all corners of the country.
Tee still wanted a go at it. No problem. One question: What did the Igbo as a nation ever do wrong in Nigeria, and particularly to the Yoruba? He regurgitated tired and tiring tales and rambled on about silly stereotypes. I listened. I restraint myself from losing my cool. He took his time.
When he was done and we had noshed and libated, I simply said: “Even if everything you has said is true, and they are not, the pseudointellectual patchworks do not tell what the Igbo did wrong. Many Igbo people have never crossed River Niger nor the Benue. No Igbo group has aspired to capture and occupy a portion of Yoruba ancestral land, as did the Edo in Eko (Lagos) and the Fulani did in Ilorin. Given the opportunity, many Igbo will rather stay home—just as many Yoruba will not know the way to Lagos if their lives depended on it.”
He looked blank. “So,” he blurted.
“So, let’s stop speaking for ALL our peoples. It is stark cultural ignorance to keep stressing this misnomer. The Igbo are dedicated democrats and rugged republicans. They have had no identifiable leader in living memory. They do not meet to decide on anything—let alone how to take over any portion of Nigeria. Go and verify!”
I continued to preach: “I don’t get the emotional attachment to Lagos from a supposed citizen from almost northern Nigeria. It’s not your fault: You are not alone! If we keep “one Nigeria,” it is a losing war of many futile bloody battles. These troublemakers will not want Igbo Lagosians to leave, yet they won’t let them drink and replace the cup. Many never cared about political power. Indeed, many did not bother to vote! They were insulted into registering to vote. Politicians like Babajide Sanwo-Olu, after asking for their votes in churches and bazaars, detailed thugs to stop them.”
Knowing my style of constructed criticisms, he took the question out of my lips: “What is the way forward?”
“Thank you for asking, bro. Take four.” I proceeded to preach.
1. Stakeholder in the southeast states should sit with the new generation governors and chart a course for a cause: an Igbo-cultured Nigerian nation, as proposed in 1997—the Aladimma Agenda. The Yoruba have an Oduduwa agenda. Arewa agenda is as old as the quest for independence. Middle Belt and Niger Delta are not excluded. It is like revisiting the Aburi Accord in an Abuja Accord. Nigerian nations must stay slightly apart in a restructured polity.
2. Improvement of communication and transportation infrastructures to ease commerce, safety, and sociocultural intercourse. We get along in bed, why fight on the streets. Lagos is too congested, and it is affecting the psyche adversely. We no longer have such absurdities in other major cities. Lagosians are too sophisticated. The problem rests on control of political power, poor policing, and junk jurisprudence.
3. Living in Lagos is a right of citizenship. It is one Nigeria. Mass relocation is futile unless we really want to split the national cake! If push comes to shove, Ndiigbo Lagos should fight back. Bullies understand force. The possibility of millions dying in a general bloodbath will stop sleazy politicians who use the fault-line pigsty in which the pigs play. No one gets out of life alive anyway. If we dies sooner it for the greater good of generations unborn, great!
4. Love it or loathe it, Lagos is emerging as Africa’s New York City. Minus the violence and murders, due to poor policing, these hiccups are near-normal. Resenting recent immigrant groups is not new. It shall pass. New York City, USA and London, UK refer. Today, the mayor of America’s largest city, NYC, is the second African American mayor. The mayor of London is a Muslim and an ethnic British Pakistani. The UK prime minister is a Hindu of East African-born parents, just and POTUS Obama’s father was East African (Kenya).
Talking about ethnocentric relationships can be energy-sapping. Far too many tall tales have taken up residence in many brains, especially in a country that banned the teaching of history in schools! Before Tee could counter with our being Africans and all the excuses why Lagos is a ‘different town hall,’ I changed the subject. We talked Trump and found common grounds in a dispassionate discourse.
As we bid ourselves goodbyes, I asked Tee to say me well to “Iya Chukwudi” and his “Chinaedus.” Who? he barked. None of his children have Igbo names. I responded calmly, “Sister Kay and the children.” He cracked an uncomfortable and unconvincing smile, waved, and left.
Like Tee, his wife (“Sister Kay” as I call her) is also a twin. Unlike Tee, Kay is patrilineal Igbo and matrilineal Yoruba via a Lagosian mother who kept her Yoruba tradition of naming of twins: Taiwo and Kehinde.
As I exited the Parkway, Tee called. He got home okay. I was halfway south. I assured him I would be okay. “One last question,” he requested. “Why didn’t you respond to any of my text all last week, did I say anything wrong?”
“No, but I still don’t know why you felt comfortable sharing such odious statements with me. My main reason for not responding? I did not want you to kill my sister and her Chinaedus! Good night.”
#moe, 3.23.23
@aladimma
aladimma.net 