In that same shallowness, The sewer dweller in Aso Rock believes he has the knife and the roasted yam tuber to feed her people. This impoverished, morally bankrupt monarch of the savannah is ready to slice away: Therefore, one can only eat when one receives a slice of yam from him.
― Don Okolo
IF YOU HAVE TEARS, PREPARE TO SHED THEM NOW. (Shakespeare) This is a lamentation…a requiem of sorts regarding the most painful, heartless policy decision ever made against the Igbo-nation. A total mockery…the most flagrant, in-your-face beat-down…the most vivid, utterly vicious mastication (Chewing) of a people ever recorded in the annals of governance and abject control of a tribe. And we have been spat out as a glob of brown phlegm…to be stepped on and grounded into the receding flooring. The one who did the chomping is a Dart Vader wanna-be. Barren and mean-spirited; whose humanity ended up as a disgusting brown stain on the mattress that held the human parts of him. This is from the dominion of men that are worse than senseless things. They pulled this haymaker…this round-house punch from the pit of rot; whose gooey, unadulterated cauldron we may not be able to wash away.
Was this an attempt at a coup-de-gras? (mercy killing). The jabs and stabs from nine-inch jagged stiletto, the icepick to the eyes, the close-range shots from portable, hand-held howitzer couldn’t and didn’t do it: So, they switched to bluntness: Count Vlad Dracula would be jealous with this newly fashioned method of impaling one’s victim. The bleeding, breathing, earthy Naturalness got one through the heart to certify that her reputation of rising from the dead never happened. They were fooled with the body’s flaccidity, (limpness). So much trauma. One hundred body holes leaking blood…no, gushing life’s stock. AND YET, WE LIVE. But the garrulous (chatty) one, and her outgoing bad self, played possum with an uncanny ability to freeze her limbs; the body stayed unmoving and did not recoil from those relentless barrages of new and improved stylings of bombardments. In short, she did not croak. She is still breathing as I write this. She is still sipping on her favorite beverage as you are reading this. Her spirit is still soaring as morning is breaking. You would see her in that gracious flight of the Phoenix that she is, beyond the canopies of the tallest Iroko in the world’s most pristine rainforest habitat. She is hurt; but Nne-Olisa, Adadioranma, had mastered the art of internalizing gratuitous decapitation she suffered during the days of the civil war.
Nigeria has no shame. She has no rectitude…no whims of appropriateness about her. The sewer dweller in Aso Rock wears a false persona, and had sworn he would rewrite, with jarring expletives, the guiding principles of this once a nation to underscore his bigotry and falsehoods, in as many aspects as he could call up in his mind. In that same shallowness, he believes he has the knife and the roasted yam tuber to feed her people. This impoverished, morally bankrupt monarch of the savannah is ready to slice away: Therefore, one can only eat when one receives a slice of yam from him.
Do you see how silly and laughable the whole scheme is? He has just told you, the Southeasterners to go to hell.
In this case, the Southeast got nothing. Do you see how silly and laughable the whole scheme is? He has just told you, the Southeasterners to go to hell. Not the proverbial go-dig-yourself-a-hole-under-the earth and crawl in kind of hell. He wants you buried alive. If you must eat of this meal, you must abandon your cry for Statehood, and then, get on your knees and come crawling to him…that is, if you must partake of this munificence (aid). Remember, he has the knife and the yam…and all the member-states had gotten a slice. And we were right there in line, just like Oliver Twist, to receive a generous splash over the platter we were holding out. Did you notice how the slices the southern states received got thinner and thinner? This eighty-something year old man has no fear of mortality, nor of God. He wants us to start a fight. Nothing is implied here. The northern oligarchy is setting us up. And they are masters of the game of debauchery. We are on the verge of the worst bloodbath humanity would ever witness. That is exactly how I would write the freaking screenplay, if I were piloting this ship. Southeasterners are in his crosshairs…and his finger is on the trigger. Why would anyone write any kind of article about this deliberate, gigantic blunder and grant him a policy advice only? The impunity is unheard-of. Are you of blood and no guts? It is all coming home to roost…at least for these Fulani(s), Hausas and Tuaregs.
The impunity is unheard-of. Are you of blood and no guts? It is all coming home to roost…at least for these Fulani(s), Hausas and Tuaregs.
Who the heck appropriated these funds? Was it the House? Or did the man wake up one dry day and declared to himself that he would grant loans to the States? If the House had a hand in this catastrophic, extremely dishonest disbursement, did they tell him not to cut the southeasterners a piece of the pie? Someone must talk here. Does this man have the sole right to make such a call? Not even a stipend of a few hundred dollars to the Igbos? In my book, this is sacrilegious. Has anyone from both Houses addressed this aberration? Do they not see the quandary they would all face if they did nothing to rewrite this behemoth of a howler? The heavens themselves are blazing forth in plaintive (mournful) chant, and will not stop until this indecent, contemptible act of impropriety is righted.
But in truth, what man wants to go back to his whoring wife? That neighborhood go-to-Daisy could turn on you any given day. She will put a knife in your back to get you out of the way of her dangerous liaisons. Even as he is willing to forgive her recent incursions, and her past indiscretions, Anna-Good-Draws has been certified irredeemable; she would still be looking for ways to squeeze in a couple more quickies in tight crannies, dark alleys, parking lots, in the bleachers where there are no prying eyes. The ants in her pants have grown wild and would not be tamed. Nigeria could not be tamed. Period!!!
The ants in her pants have grown wild and would not be tamed. Nigeria could not be tamed. Period!!!
Hear this; we have the most unreasonable men in power, and they are from a region of the country with no qualms on how they are running the place. They are adamant and will not share power. There must be a set window for them to accomplish what they have in mind. Unfortunately, it is working for them. Of course, before the crude dries out, they would have built that idyllic northern outpost; they would have stored refined oil in faraway locations to last them hundreds of years. Infrastructure strategies are already seeing grand designs…especially in the area of power supply. There is nothing the southerners can do about this. Twenty-twenty three would come and go…and a northerner would take over this heap of shame, to keep the scheme alive. What fool does not see this? Even a blind man could see through this hellish agenda.
What fool does not see this? Even a blind man could see through this hellish agenda.
The Igbos and their investments in the northern regions would get nothing back when they serve us eviction notices. They did that before. We let them have it. We went back and built some more. Just like that beautiful woman you couldn’t let go; we came back looking for more. She cannot cook or perform housewife duties to hold on to any man. And yet, we stayed. What the Igbos have failed to realize is this; what is on the land belongs to the land. The Igbos, I am beginning to think, must love this dry savannah lands and desert outcrops where this housewife from hell lives. Even as her aging body is frazzled and looks disheveled, one begins to wonder what the fascination is? This harlot of a woman has told you repeatedly she no longer loves you. But you stayed. You built her stead in Abuja. You teach in her schools. She, in turn, torched your churches and killed your people on the ebb and flow of her deranged mind. You, the Igbos, have refused to build on your own plot…and you will be damned for it…even as you are a living legend. Ekwu cha kwanam…!!! (I am done)
♦ Don Okolo, Professor and filmmaker, is on the Editorial Board of the West African Pilot News. He is the author of many books.
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