“They hate my religion as much as I despise theirs.” ―Don Okolo
If you are expecting me to pull any punches with this piece, you’d be disappointed. This is not the time for measured speech. Definitely, not the time for smoke-up-a bunghole-platitudes designed to massage any inflated egos. Swords are drawn. Rifles are out of niches, dusted, locked, and loaded, and aimed at marks. The dust and fog of war are thicker, rolling faster than a desert dust devil, thick pod-squall would.
This is not a friendly banter…like I am trudging along with you on one of those repartees of forthrightness in the vales of nature’s most pristine topography…where you and I are both Thanes, Princes, and exaggerated Gentlemen of enclaves…were we are expected to be candid and good-natured to say that the fire we see blazing would be put out in no time. Right now, it is an inferno…and the ones with the matchsticks and the gasoline fireboxes are the Moslem North, aka, the Fulani(s).
Until you understand the nature of these wayward, recalcitrant nomads, these half-bred pooches who delight on their own feces and wonder if they should consume them after they had passed it like the grassy creatures of the Sahel that consume the slimy entrails of an afterbirth, would you then begin to untie the straps that bind them, that forces them to follow that straight path they believe would grant them, not autonomy, but rather, make them heads of conquered states.
And God Almighty warned us about eating anything unclean.
That one-directional, one-dimensional course is un-rewritable. They are stuck with it…it’s all they know. They are set like zombies out of the Haitian jungle, devoid of the distillations of what makes people humans; no compassion, bereft of basic intuitive genes…cold-hearted floating logs that penetrate the annal cavity of the cows they tend. I am not making this up. They do. I repeat; these pea-brained mutts jump on the backs of their defenseless cows in these harrowing, lonesome journeys to satisfy their carnal desires. It is these browbeaten, flatulent herbivores, filled with noxious, human slime that they shepherd down south for our consumption. And God Almighty warned us about eating anything unclean. Their women are never seen rolling with them, to cook for them, and be there for other duties like occasional sex. They are sent away and are usually seen sitting on roadsides of every clammy city, with their children, begging for victuals and handouts…money to augment their miserable, wretched lives. And they sit among the population their menfolk hate the most.
…they are plants, and should the day of the Jihad war arrive, these women have a job to do
They would not sit and wallow in the northern states…among their own people. Rather, these pale waifs were deliberately transported eight, nine hundred miles into the southern heartland, to find solace among the steadfast Igbos; they are at home, and free of harassment among a peaceful people. If you don’t know this, know it now; they are plants…and should the day of the Jihad war arrive, these women have a job to do; they wouldn’t be sitting on roadsides begging for pittance…nor for victuals.
And I am a philanthropist by nature. I am a lover of all humans, again, by nature. Not to blow my freaking horn here; I have shed tears seeing the plight of man everywhere. But the Fulani encroachment of my land, the Fulani raping of my sisters and mothers, the Fulani general plan to overtake a Christian enclave and introduce a brand of religion I particularly, and strongly disagree with…would never agree with, is infuriating. They hate my religion as much as I despise theirs. It is in that same vein that the Turkish President would convert a five-hundred-year-old Christian Church into a chamber where Moslems now congregate… ignoring centuries of culturally religious sophistication, beauty, and diversity, to plant a scabrous seed in the same bowel of earth where a Gem was once in bloom.
The basic understanding is because these suppurating, refluxing dimwits are remnants of creation
That appalling, soulless decree is leaking pus from the day they took control of the house. You see, hints of the presence of God, more than five hundred years in the making, would have floated outdoors. Yes, Mr. Erdogan, you can now possess the house. Sorry for the digression…it was not intended. You couldn’t find a dozen Fulani out of a thousand, in any pool, whose common sense had been fashioned by any form of education and empathy to agree that other cultures have rights too. The basic understanding why that is so, is because these suppurating, refluxing dimwits are remnants of creation; well because they have refused to follow the way of doing things…that common natural proclivity of human behavior that guides us all. Even the religion they cling to…the Koran…with elements of it similar to some passages in the Bible, couldn’t do enough to assuage their distaste for every Southerner. I couldn’t rewrite my avowed impertinence, because at every turn, I was able to justify each and every line of vitriolic impudence the incursion has generated.
In all honesty, I do not know what the Ibos and the Yoruba people are waiting for. How could a nonentity…a race of people known for their unmatched form of pallid indifference to life itself, and in everything else that they do, be allowed to walk loudly, and carry such armaments and munitions, without fear of the law? I am livid to the core. This is a watershed moment…a clannish loyalty to the northern oligarchy…to come to the south, go wild on her people and move the spoils of war to the dry desert lands of the north.
The Fulani are the hyena breed of humans; for sustenance, they only have the option to adopt the morals of an alley cat. Should they succeed, the entire southern states would be literally scorched. Her rainforests would be cut down, besmirched, and then turned into a Sahel…if not an outright desert patch of land. Give that a couple of decades, and it would be all over. Nature could have endowed in them the plunder genes. With that, they were set to roam, sleep in the wild and consume senseless rations. Every strand of beauty is lost to them. Rather, they abhor effervescence…the vitality and purity of things. Human traits like poise and etiquette, including the subtleties every modern-day man should possess in the appreciation and evaluation of basic science and common art are foreign and strange to the Fulani. They have an inimitable grain of inferiority complex than any other race of people on earth. For remuneration, they pin their hopes on land grabs and sheer terrorism. In other words, they must steal, confiscate from others to achieve ownership.
Nigeria offers them the best chance to regroup.
Now that it seems they are beginning to sense the value of communal living, the intrinsic significance of owning a home and raising a family, they have come to realize that their nomadic ways had bought them nothing, but ignominy. They have also come to realize that they could have lost eternally…the virtues of truly being a contributing race to the rest of humanity. Nigeria offers them the best chance to regroup. Now, they are calling upon their brethren scattered among the West African Nations of Ghana, Cameroon, Dahomey, Benin, Mali, Burkina Faso, and Senegal, to come home to Nigeria…their Newfoundland. There is a new land in the West African Nation of Nigeria soon to be renamed Newfulaniland, they are hoping. Smugness, and that journeyman’s lackadaisical attitude could grant that lounged cat the temerity to rise and raise its tail in readiness. The once dormant chutzpah wraps the cat up, and then nudges him from his obvious apathy…to chase down a lion and devour him. That is possible, if the lion doesn’t take note of the cosmetic, but killer changes about the twenty-ounce kitten and his evolution of monster chops…like maws of the hippo fame, and fangs longer than a nine-inch phallus. For those Southerners who believe that a Fulani takeover is near impossible because they can pray it away, I say; get up off your freaking knees, get your own AR-15s and fight back. It is what God wants you to do, anyway. If you don’t, it would be another one thousand years, as long as it took the Jews to reclaim their place in the firmament of God, to get back our land. PLEASE, DO NOT WAIT FOR NNAMDI KANU…that will take some doing for Biafra, the Nation, to come to. In the meantime, we have this pestering bug to squash.
♦ Don Okolo, Professor and filmmaker, is on the Editorial Board of the West African Pilot News. He is the author of many books.
