ColumnsDon OkoloNigeriaOpinionWeirdness of Donald Trump, His Nigerian Supporters, and Preachers from Hell

Avatar PilotnewsNovember 11, 2020
Strange political bedfellas from the cold, temperate Potomac to the mean, hot, tropical river Naija

If you are going to lose in a chess game, you give up the king. If you were in a poker game, your choices would ride on your freaking abilities to bluff, and with that wild paste of ugliness that defines a gorilla’s mug…as in countenance…as in, you guessed it, a poker face.

The oddities abundant in these wildly different games have the feel of silk…so smooth and royally exquisite, your opponents wouldn’t know you were picking/reading their minds the entire game. It is so in this other wildly, esoteric game where men and women have perfected the art of deceit: POLITICS. This game has unwilling game watchers and players…and the ones dueling are throwing bolo punches and telegraphed underhanded haymakers to knock out their opponents. If you were in this bus, and you were Irish and have German roots, overweight, dyed blond and peddled misogyny with wanton cruelty and with the intention of rewriting its various passages, you too would say anything, lie twenty-thousand times, while you have your middle finger smack in the faces of these ardent followers that have refused to use their minds.

That is the hallmark of every Devil’s advocate and hardball ballers who live in that political enclave south of El Diablo. In the end, one man or woman is left standing in the Red corner. And in the Blue corner, another man or woman will emerge for the big showdown. The rest of us are seated around this ring/octagon, screaming expletives and goading the one we hope would lose, while shouting encouraging shrieks to the one we hope would come out on top…literally…at the end of the brawl.

How could Donald Trump have done that? How was he able to finagle an impressive following of stubborn, hardcore men and resolute women who have been through hard fought battles deep in the heart of Africa, in an area of Nigeria, where nothing is guaranteed except ignominious death and a daily dose of humiliating prescriptions of hunger and the looming presence of pestilence everyday they wake up? How was this white man, Donald Trump, able to reach the inner crannies of the sharpest minds among these people…my people? Even the pastors among them, the soccer stars included, spat holy crap, and cursed anyone who wouldn’t join the train in asking God to reinstate His chosen one. In the history of Nigeria, no tribe has ever shown or displayed this kind of chutzpah (audacity).

In the history of Nigeria, no tribe has ever shown or displayed this kind of chutzpah

I thought about it and then realized that I must find the one thing that pushed a section of the Igbos in Nigeria to support someone they know nothing about. It was clear they had no idea what Donald Trump had said about the countries in Africa. I will bet a couple dollars that the Igbos genuinely believed that the man in the White House would ride in on a white horse and rescue them from the shackles and the other mind-numbing fetters holding them in a straightjacket. They want out of the country called Nigeria… (and I believe that we do) …only they have had their minds and pockets picked by Donald Trump. Just like the desperate, drug addict seeking fulfillment…whose snatches of weakening nerves and spaces of synapses are constricting with every breath he takes, and will do anything to get that hit, these Igbos, ten thousand miles removed from Washington DC, had fallen prey to the predator king whose promises were spun with the same sinew of silk, of the black widow’s spider web. The used car salesman’s pitch for a better tomorrow, especially for the bigger, greater glory of nationhood…the beginning of the new era of a great republic of Biafra was a ruse after all. The Igbos in Nigeria swallowed it all…hook, line and sinker.

Could Nnamdi Kanu have had a hand in the preparation of this broth from hell? How else could they have had a seamless organization that marched in solidarity for a man whose sole purpose for political office was to enrich himself, throw a monkey wrench in the workings of the world in general, and consequently undo the most cherished characteristic of the American experiment? In my opinion…and I could be wrong, I am inclined to believe that the fake hallowed exercise for Donald Trump, the drumbeats, conga offerings and hollow chants was infused by the messianic seedlings Nnamdi Kanu could have seared into their minds. Again, this is just a suspicion of mine.

These overrated Nigerians who couldn’t tell crap from brown shoe polish must have had some bizarre elixir to drink.

I could forgive my people in Nigeria. And I have done so since Joe Biden and Kamala Harris won. But to deal, and then have to forgive these other shears of Nigerians living here in the United States, who supported Donald Trump, and went through the rigors of publishing banalities, cow dung stories, snake oil discourses because they wanted us to latch onto a passing caboose that will take us to Mara Lago to dine with the one man they believed could do no wrong, is where I draw the freaking line. These overrated Nigerians who couldn’t tell crap from brown shoe polish must have had some bizarre elixir to drink. How else could one explain such diehard support for Donald Trump? One must be completely compromised, intoxicated to a hellish degree to wallow in sluggish patterns on the precipices of insanity. They were unaware that the precarious edge they were standing on was on shifty grounds, and was about to give…and that when the collapse comes, that they themselves would be fair game and would serve as the much-needed collateral damage for the man they spent all four years defending. Donald Trump would use them to cushion his fall. This man you agreed with is the same man the whole world is celebrating his defeat. How could anyone not believe that these Nigerians were drunk; that they were served the overly sweetened skunk juice from Donald Trump’s wine cellar? I have had Nigerian friends who were republicans to the core over the years…and most of them, if not all, voted republican in every presidential election year. But this one man is a virus…and he was successful infecting the minds of some Nigerians here, and at home. The wits about them, collectively, is worth as much as one would pay to own a rattler he would leave to roam freely in his house. I want to give them the benefit of the doubt; that they did not really believe their suppositions of Donald Trump. To love Donald Trump, the man who symbolizes everything evil is to have no sense of ethics and morality. To love Donald Trump is synonymous with abject hatred for humanity.

To love Donald Trump is synonymous with abject hatred for humanity.

That brings me to this other BS from the pulpit of God. Pastor Chris Oyakilome, the renowned con man preacher in Nigeria fired off vermicide he was wont to…well because he wears the robe. You should know he donned that mantle on himself. Donald Trump, he said, was appointed by God to do this…to be president of these United States. I fired off a text on his claim, I am sure he didn’t read, asking if he was referring to the same God I follow, worship, and believe in. But most importantly, I wanted to know if God was the One who appointed Adolph Hitler, who killed six million Jews, and Josef Stalin, who killed more than ten million Russians. Was God of a different comportment in the decades of Stalin and Hitler? That is the nature of these preachers from hell. They will say anything. A fake preacher’s doctrine is adept as that of the rat chewing on your toes while you slept. The rat takes a bite out of you, and then blows on the wound to mitigate pain and prevent you from waking up.

It is with the same smoothness and persuasiveness that the Preacher man is able to reach deep into your pocket, take whatever small change you have left, lift you higher with extra poetry and grandiloquence, turn you upside down and shake the loose change from the recesses of your receptacles, bags and pinches. He just flat-out lied in the name of God…because Pastor Chris Oyakilome believed in the falsehood he had written and had tucked away inside the pages of the Good Book. He knew his congregation would eat it up. And that was what he did; he rolled, sliced, and diced the victuals, served them to the congregation in platters with supernatural origin. Just like that other crazy preacher that lives in a six-million-dollar pad and has a private Jet would say; if you have just two nickels to spare, give God one. And from what I know of God, hell, give Him the two nickels, instead. That is how they can reach deeper into the niches holding your savings. You should ask yourselves this; how would he know that God had a Hand in electing Donald Trump President of the United States? If Chris Oyakilome ever tells you that God told him so, then, I just put up Chelsea and Arsenal football clubs for sale. For a measly one million pounds, they are yours. That’s enough money for my own start-up church. If Nigerians are this gullible, well…

♦ 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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