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Ibadan blast, Abuja kidnaps and calamities

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Big calamities seldom knock before opening the door. Calamities’ sneaky essence is articulated in one song by grand old Odolaye Aremu, Ilorin, Kwara state-born Dadakuada song minstrel. While philosophizing the concept of calamity, which Yoruba call “eemo”, Odolaye sang that surprise and swiftness are primary features of calamities, holding tight to them like leeches. So he sang, “Peki laa k’eemo,” (calamity is met suddenly). The singer points at horses used in races and in ancient wars meeting their end unprepared during races. It is the same with soldiers who mount horses and ride them to death. Odolaye sang that, as sudden death pounces upon warhorses, so also do buffalos meet their end in the treacherous thickets of the savannah.

Last week, though not racing on horses nor does it have anything in similarity with buffalos, calamity swiftly walked into the capital of Oyo state and like Odolaye aptly dissected it, it was sudden. It came with its handmaidens – weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth. Residents of Bodija, Ibadan, suddenly heard a late evening loud bang which reverberated around many parts of the ancient city. By the time the bang settled, lives had been lost, property destroyed and Ibadan suddenly became an epicentre of bad New Year news. Buildings were reduced to rubble, vehicles destroyed and a yet-to-be-ascertained number of people killed by the explosion.

Preliminary investigation found out that this calamity was the handiwork of some Malian miners who lived there. They had allegedly brought in high-level dynamite into a human neighbourhood. As at the time of writing this, official sources put the number of dead at five while excavation of bodies was still being done. One of the dead was said to be a United Kingdom returnee who met his untimely death while visiting. Mining activities have become harbingers of “eemo” in Nigeria’s lucrative mining fields, Zamfara state being an earlier example. In this state, foreigners perch on gold sites like bees on nectar with its attendant incubation of banditry.

Still on the sneaky bang of calamities, Abuja, the Federal Capital Territory, also witnessed an implosion in the number of kidnapped persons. From January 2021 to June 30, 2023, 40 kidnap cases were said to have been recorded in the FCT, with heart-wrenching 236 victims. The modus operandi of the kidnappers has today witnessed a mutation. Before now, waylaying commuters on the highway and ferrying them into the bush to demand ransom was the style. Today, under President Bola Tinubu, kidnappers have gone haywire. They are daring and disrespectful of Abuja as Nigeria’s seat of government. So, kidnappers boldly walk into people’s homes to cart away their victims without batting an eyelid.

Nigeria is under the siege of bandits who have terrorised the country non-stop, castrating the government’s expected proactive interventions and reducing successive governments to, in the words of Yakubu Dogara, mourners-in-chief. On the Abuja–Kaduna highway last week, about 30 people were said to have been abducted at Dogon-Fili near Katari, along the Kaduna-Abuja highway in Kachia local government area of Kaduna state. Eleven other persons were kidnapped in the Dutse-Alhaji area of the FCT, Abuja. Those who dispensed “eemo” to these fellow Nigerians and their families were gunmen dressed in the camouflage of military men, while the kidnappers dressed like herders.

The most pathetic and tear-jerking narration from the Dutse-Alhaji kidnap came from Oladosu Ariyo, lawyer and father of a slain 13-year-old. In an SOS that brimmed with frustration, pain and sorrow, Ariyo wrote to the Nigerian Bar Association to narrate the calamity that suddenly walked into his dwelling place. He narrated how the band of kidnappers invaded Sagwari Layout Estate in Dutse and kidnapped his lawyer wife and four children. They promptly demanded N60 million ransom. Being able to pay only a small percentage of the ransom, the kidnappers killed his firstborn and dumped the corpse on Kaduna Road. They threatened to kill the three other minor children and his wife if the whole ransom was not paid. They were said to have so far killed three of the eleven residents of the Sagwari Estate Layout in the Dutsen-Alhaji area they abducted.

The most immediate issue that the kidnaps evoke, bringing to the fore, is the disconcerting reality that kidnappings have gone outside the grips of the Nigerian government. Often orchestrated by persons who don military uniforms and inflict havoc recklessly for hours on citizens, this calamity has persisted since the Muhammadu Buhari government. It was often followed by official denials, especially during the Buhari era. That government was a seeming legitimisation of the infliction of violence and death on the people. States that border and surround the FCT like Niger, Kogi, Nasarawa and Plateau states had been hotbeds of kidnaps and wanton killings since the Buhari government. In saner climes and environments, this proximity is enough indication and foretell of imminent preying on the FCT by the bloodthirsty hounds called kidnappers and bandits. For a proactive and sensitive national security apparatus, a mechanism to arrest the imminent descent on Abuja ought to be on the drawing board, even before they struck. Unfortunately, in Abuja, unlike many civilised cities of the world, there are no statistics of ingress and egress into and outside the national capital. In the same vein, the census of landlords who live in the various suburbs of the city remains an illusion.

The issue of absence of governance is the cause of the spike in insecurity in Abuja and other parts of Nigeria. If you bore a hole through it, you will find corruption as well. There is also no doubting the fact that national security inertia juts out as a core issue in the Ibadan blast. Why would such destructive dynamite pass through the cordon of security agencies to wreak such havoc? Apart from those issues, existential matters are also trapped in the spate of kidnappings in Abuja and the blast in Ibadan. The existential issues come in rhetorical questions. Why must it be Oladosu Ariyo and his family who were abducted that night at Dutsen-Alhaji and not other families? Why was the UK returnee who met his untimely death in the Ibadan blast the one who must die? Why didn’t he delay his journey by some days, to arrive in Ibadan after the blast? Why did that calamity zero in on those who died? Why was Bodija the scene where the dynamites must explode and not elsewhere? These are questions that have defied satisfactory answers to humanity, science and religion. They have been asked consistently since the beginning of creation.

The above questions have procreated a set of people called fatalists who believe that human beings are helpless about the future, as well as the fortune or calamities that come to them. In Yoruba epistemology, this fatality is expressed as “ayanmo” or predestination. Its similar variant is “Kadara,” which is strictly identical to destiny. Kadara is woven around the concept of ‘Ori’ or the bearer of one’s destiny. The third of the tripod is called “Akosile” which holds that every individual’s destiny, as well as all that will happen to them in their life journey, are already written down in heaven before human beings begin to journey down to earth. An affirmation of this is mirrored in the saying “Ori yeye ni Mogun, ipin aise lo po,” which translates to mean, among the dry skulls at the Mogun shrine are many innocent heads.

The “Ori yeye…” narration, best explained by an anecdote said to have taken place a long time ago, apparently in pre-colonial Yoruba, has a few other slants different from the one below. The king of a town called Otolu had his trumpet called Kakaki stolen by persons he couldn’t fathom. The trumpet was a monarchical insignia used during ancestral festivals and was blown to announce the imminence of the festival. Upon the disappearance of the trumpet, Oba Otolu summoned his 17 servants for an explanation on the missing ancestral trumpet. Each swore his innocence but, miffed, literally spitting fire from his mouth like Sango, the king ordered the servants to be beheaded by the Ogun shrine. A few months after their decapitation, an Oba Otolu king friend in the neighbouring town apprehended two of his aides who had the trumpet and sent them to the Otolu king. Upon interrogation, they confessed that the heir to the Otolu throne, the king’s son, had handed it over to them. The king then ordered the beheading of the prince and the two culprits. As they were about to be decapitated at the Ogun shrine, pensive, the Otolu king muttered, pained about the shedding of innocent people’s blood thus, “See the number of heads of innocent persons we wrongly beheaded at the Mogun shrine!” The king was said to have committed suicide upon arriving at the palace.

So, were those 17 palace servants fated to be beheaded by the Orolu king? Was it their “ayanmo” (destiny) to die such gory, painful deaths? The Yoruba concept of the human person believes every human being has an ayanmo which can be positively or negatively manipulated by the nature of the head (Ori) that the person brought into this world. Thus, if an ayanmo is lopsided, failing in efforts, the Ori can help restructure the person’s destiny. This is why they say destiny has no remedy but Ori is the judge, “ayanmo o gb’ogun, ori l’elejo.”

Destiny, as articulated by Professor Segun Gbadegesin in his “Eniyan: The Yoruba Concept of a Person” in The African Philosopher Reader, edited by P.H Coetzee and A. P Roux., Routledge (New York, 1998) P.144, is “pre-ordained portion of life wound and sealed up on Ori”. According to him, “Human beings have an allotment of… destiny which determines the general course of life”. Bolaji Idowu, however, sees the Ori as a complete human personality who came before Olodumare (God) shortly before departing for this world. The human knelt before Him for allotment of his destiny and was open to what is called a “trimorphous conception of destiny”. This is in three and they are, Akunleyan (destiny got when kneeling to choose); Akunlegba (destiny got when kneeling to receive) and Ayanmo (irrevocably stamped on the person).

Some of these beliefs, made into proverbs, aphorisms, mores and lore are predicated on predestination. For instance, an ancient wise saying says that a tree will not fall in the forest and kill one who sits at home; and the rafter will not fall and kill the wayfarer (igi o ni da, k’o pa’ra ile; aja o ni jin k’o pa ero ona). Almost in line with this epistemology are the teachings of the two dominant religions, Christianity and Islam. They also believe that human beings are destined for some of the fates that befall them. However, as architects of their fates, human beings can tinker with their destinies through the worship of God. The third leg of this belief system is a doctrine called fatalism. Held by fatalists, they believe, without recourse to theology, that human beings are powerless to tinker with their future. They also hold that anything that happens to human beings is not within their human remit to change.

Many people have tried to examine why African leaders seem to cavalierly allow calamities to befall their people rather than taking proactive measures to ensure that they do not occur. I tend to think that this thinking by governments is an outcome of a very injurious but longstanding romance with theological submissions about calamities, as well as traditional Africa’s explanation of predestination. Data have proven that the more religiously or traditionally inclined government runners are, the sloppy it becomes for them to do the needful in safeguarding the lives of their people. The Buhari government, for instance, was so steeped in this belief in the God-ordained nature of human calamities that it firmed out the most important of its governmental responsibilities to God. Most times, it called on God to help it attack its attackers which is downright senseless.

Many events that happen in this modern age perforate some of the traditional African theses we have held for centuries. The Ibadan dynamite blast of last Tuesday is one. Contrary to a saying cited above, trees are now falling in the forest and killing people who sit in their homes; and rafters are falling, killing wayfarers in the process. The Ibadan blast attests to these. If the Tinubu government will not follow the footsteps of Buhari’s administration and thus be less fatalistic in its security architecture master plan, it should not be rocket science to exterminate kidnappers and be victorious over the menace of kidnapping. It is penny-wise pound-foolish to remove subsidy on petrol, with its attendant hardships on the people, then extend national pain by yawning while insecurity takes over the national capital. The truth is, if the FCT could be this unsafe, with information of its porosity to evildoers available all over the world, no investor would come to Nigeria.

Tinubu must urgently reduce the frequency of calamities in Nigeria by tackling insecurity frontally. By doing this, he will be redrawing the map of the sneakiness of calamities in Nigeria. Above all, he will render Odolaye Aremu’s thesis on calamity (eemo) and its suddenness (peki) irrelevant.

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El-Rufai’s SDP Gambit: A Political ‘Harakiri’ | By Adeniyi Olowofela

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Former Governor of Kaduna State, Nasir Ahmad El-Rufai, is a restless and courageous politician. However, he ought to have learned political patience from President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, who spent years building a viable political alternative to the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) when its stalwarts boasted that they would rule Nigeria for 64 years.

Cleverly, Tinubu abandoned the Alliance for Democracy (AD) to establish another political platform, the Action Congress (AC), which later metamorphosed into the Action Congress of Nigeria (ACN).

In collaboration with other political groups—including the Congress for Progressive Change (CPC) and some elements of the PDP—the All Progressives Congress (APC) was born, with El-Rufai as one of its foundation members. Ultimately, the APC wrestled power from the PDP, truncating its 64-year dominance plan.

For El-Rufai to abandon the APC now is nothing short of political suicide, as Tinubu is strategically positioned to secure a second term with an array of both seen and unseen political foot soldiers.

The Social Democratic Party (SDP), as a political entity, effectively died with the late Moshood Kashimawo Olawale (MKO) Abiola. Any attempt to resurrect it is an exercise in futility.

For the sake of argument, let’s consider a hypothetical scenario: Suppose another southern politician is fielded in 2027 and wins the election. Even if he signs an agreement to serve only one term, political realities could shift, and he may seek another four years.

If anyone doubts this, they should ask former Presidents Olusegun Obasanjo and Goodluck Jonathan. The simple implication of this is that President Tinubu remains the best candidate for northern politicians seeking a power shift back to the North in 2031—at which point El-Rufai could have been one of the credible northern contenders for the presidency.

When Ebenezer Babatope (Ebino Topsy), a staunch Awoist, chose to serve in General Sani Abacha’s regime, he later reflected on his decision, saying: “I have eaten the forbidden fruit, and it will haunt me till the end of my life.”

By abandoning the APC for another political party, El-Rufai has also eaten the forbidden fruit. Only time will tell if it will haunt him or not.

However, for some of the political leaders already contacted from the South West, supporting any party against President Tinubu would be akin to Judas Iscariot’s betrayal—a reputation no serious South West politician would want to bear.

El-Rufai’s departure from the APC to SDP is nothing short of a suicidal political move, reminiscent of Harakiri.

Prof. Adeniyi Olowofela, a former Oyo State Commissioner for Education, Science, and Technology and the Commissioner representing Oyo State at the Federal Character Commission (FCC), sent this piece from Abuja, the nation’s capital.

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Akpabio vs. Natasha: Too Many Wrongs Don’t Make A Right

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For most of last week, Senate President Godswill Akpabio was in the eye of the storm as his traducer, Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan, who represents Kogi Central, was relentless in getting her voice hear loud and clear.

Though the matter eventually culminated in the suspension of the Kogi senator for six months on Thursday, it is clear that the drama has not ended yet. The whole saga, as we have seen in the last few weeks, smacks many wrongs and few rights. The Senate scored some rights and some wrongs, the same for the Kogi senator. But in apportioning the rights and the wrongs, we have to distinguish between emotions and the rules.

Recall that in July of 2024, Senator Akpabio had compared the conduct of Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan to that of someone in a nightclub. That statement incensed the Kogi Central senator, the womenfolk, and a number of other senators. Days later, Akpabio, having sensed the mood of the Senate, spoke from his chair and said: “I will not intentionally denigrate any woman and always pray the God will uplift women, Distinguished Senator Natasha, I want to apologise to you.” That was expected of him and by that statement, Akpabio brought some calm into the relationship between him and the Kogi senator, but as we are to discover in the last two weeks, still waters do run fast under the surface.

The latest scene of the drama started with what looked like an innocuous development on the Senate floor. The Senate president, in exercise of the power conferred on him by the 1999 Constitution (as amended) and the Senate Rule book, made adjustments to the seats in the minority wing of the chamber and relocated Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan. The excuse was that following the defection of some senators from the minority side, seat adjustments had to be effected. That was within Akpabio’s power. Remember that the Senate Rule book does not only empower the Senate president to allocate seats, but he can also change the seats occasionally. So, Akpabio was right with that action. But perhaps Akpoti-Uduaghan, based on family relationships with the Akpabios, expected that she would have been alerted of the impending seat change. And on getting to the floor of the Senate to discover the seat switch, she got alarmed. Was she right to flare up? No, that is the answer. Apart from the powers of the Senate president to change seats allocated to senators, the rule book also says that every senator must speak from the seat allocated. The implication is that anything a senator says outside the allocated seat will not go into the Senate records. The Senate, or any parliament for that matter, is a regulated environment. The Hansards take records of every word and action made on the floor of the chamber. And so, it is incumbent on every senator to follow the rules.

So, on Thursday, February 20, when Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan raised hell over her seat relocation and engaged Senator Akpabio in a shouting match, she was on the wrong side of the Senate Rule book. No Senator is expected to be unruly. In fact, unruly conduct can be summarily punished by the presiding officer. It is important to note that the rules of the Senate treat the occupier of the chair of Senate President like a golden egg. The President of the Senate is the number three citizen in the country, even though he was elected to represent a constituency like his colleagues. He is first among equals, but the numero uno position comes with a lot of difference.

A legislative expert once told me that the Chair of the President of the Senate must be revered at all times and that infractions to the rules are heavily punished unless the offender shows penitence. The rule says the President of the Senate must be heard in silence; Senators must avoid naming (being called out for unruly conduct); and that any situation that compels the President of the Senate to rise up to hit the gavel in trying to restore order could earn the culprit (any named senator) summary dismissal. Those are the powers of the President of the Senate, which Madam Natasha was trying for size. I think it is important that Senators are taken through inductions on the rules and regulations, whether they got in mid-term or at the beginning of the session.

Rules are very key to operations in a big club like the Senate or the House of Representatives. But as we will later discover on this page, the number of years spent on the floor does not necessarily guarantee a clear understanding of the rules.

Well, as we saw it, Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan raised hell by protesting the decision of the Senate to relocate her seat. She was out of order, and her colleagues noted the same. With another presiding officer, she could have been suspended right there. But Akpabio didn’t do that. Then, the Kogi Central senator opened another flank, this time, outside of the Senate chamber. She granted an interview to Arise television, claiming that she had been sexually harassed by Akpabio. Here, too, Senator Natasha was on the wrong side of the Senate rules. Yes, she has a right of freedom of speech, but if the right must be meaningfully exercised, she must do so in compliance with the rules of the club she belongs-the Senate. This is expressly so because she is covered by Order 10 of the Senate Rule Book, which permits her to raise issues of privilege without previously notifying the President of the Senate or the presiding officer. The elders and the holy books also say that when you remove the log from the eyes, you show it to the eyes. As a club, the senate detests the washing of its dirty linen in the public. Such conduct led to the suspension of the late Senators Arthur Nzeribe and Joseph Waku, as well as Senator Ovie Omo-Agege, Senator Ali Ndume and even Senator Abdul Ningi in recent past.

Rather than go to the court of public opinion to accuse Akpabio of sexual harassment, Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan should have quietly assumed the seat allocated to her, raise her complaints through Order 10 and at the same time tender details of her sexual harassment allegation against Akpabio and seek Senate’s intervention. If she had done that, she would have been on the right side of Senate Rules and had Akpabio by the balls. As much as the Senate rules forbid a senator from submitting a petition he or she personally signed, the Senate does not forbid any lawmaker from raising allegations that affect either their rights or privileges on the floor. Several newspaper editors have been summoned before the Ethics Committee to answer questions of alleged breach of the privilege of senators. I recall that as correspondents in the chamber, senators were always unhappy each time we scooped a story or blow open a report they were about to submit. Such senators didn’t need to write a petition. They would only come to the floor and raise points of order on privilege. Senator Akpoti- Uduaghan failed to do that.

But the conduct of the Senate President and some of the principal officers on Wednesday, March 5, left so much to be desired of the Senate. I was shocked to see Senator Akpabio rule Senator Natasha in order; he also ruled Senator Mohammed Monguno in order as well as Senator Opeyemi Bamidele. How do you have three right rulings on one issue? First, he allowed Senator Natasha to lay a defective petition on the Senate table. That’s expressly out of order. In the days of Senate Presidents David Mark, Bukola Saraki, and Ahmad Lawan, we saw how such scenes were handled. A David Mark would simply ask the senator, ‘Distinguished Senator, please open to Order 40(4) and read’. By the time the senator finished reading the order and seeing the order had negatived his or her motion, he would only be begging to withdraw that motion. That was not the case with Akpabio. And to make matters worse, the clerks at the table were also looking lost. They could not guide the presiding officer in any way. That tells a bit about human resource capacity in the assembly. But then the Senate Leader, Opeyemi Bamidele and the Chief Whip, Mohammed Monguno, who have spent quite a long time in the National Assembly, should know better. Their interventions did more damage to Akpabio’s Senate. Once the President of the Senate had ruled Senator Natasha in order to submit a petition she personally signed, (against the rules of the Senate which forbids such), and the Kogi Central senator had approached the chair and laid the petition on the table, the matter in a way becomes sub judice, to borrow the language of the law. The Senate Rule Book classifies such an action as “Matters Not open to Debate.” So at that point, the matter was no longer open to debate. Since the gavel has been hit and the action has been taken, no senator has the right to reopen the case. It was wrong of Senator Bamidele and Monguno to immediately start to revisit a closed matter, and that’s illegal. It is wrong for Akpabio to allow it.

I recall an incident in the 6th Senate when President Umaru Yar’Adua was bedridden in Saudi Arabia. Some senators moved a motion, seeking the Senate to constitute a panel to visit Saudi and ascertain the health status of the president. Somehow, when the motion was finally passed on a day, Senator Ike Ekweremadu presided, it turned out that the motion only mandated the Federal Executive Council to do the assignment. The original proponents of the motion were enraged, but they were not allowed to reopen the matter. They had to go into lobbying and eventually secured signatures of two-thirds of the Senate to re-table the matter and that paved the way for the adoption of the famous “Doctrine of Necessity.” That’s how serious the matter should be handled, but it was trivialized by Akpabio, the Senate Leader and Senate Whip. That’s on the wrong side of the rule.

Now that Senator Akpoti-Uduaghan has been suspended, many would say she was being silenced. That is far from the truth. Her suspension was on the basis of what the senate perceived as unruly behavior on the floor. We are yet to hear the details of her sexual harassment allegations, and I believe that she has avenues to ventilate that. Nigerians earnestly await these details, which should be salacious enough to help us cool off some heat.

 

 

 

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Now that Natasha has made Akpabio happy

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In South Africa under the presidency of Jacob Zuma, any analysis of government and governance without factoring sex into the mix was tame and lame. Zuma was a notorious polygamist who had six official wives as president, many more by unofficial account and 22 children from the liaisons.

He was a kingpin of lechery. On May 8, 2006, a South African court under Judge van der Merwe acquitted him of rape of Fezekile Ntsukela Kuzwayo, an HIV-positive AIDS activist, who was the daughter of his friend, Judson Kuzwayo. During trial, Zuma pleaded that the sex was consensual but admitted that he had unprotected sex with the lady. He then stunned the world with his bizarre claim that he had “showered afterwards to cut the risk of contracting the infection.”

 

In the process of studying power relations in Nigeria, sex as a phenomenon is often understudied or underrated. In other words, while power relations are known to be shaped by a complex interplay of factors that range from the economic, political, social, to the cultural, including individual characteristics and relationship dynamics, hardly are gender and sex reckoned with.

 

In my piece of March 6, 2022 with the title, Buhari’s Serial Rape Of Nigeria’s Lady Justice, I doubled down on a sub-theme of the powerful role sex plays in national politics. To do justice to this, I recalled a September 7, 2008 cartoon sketched by Jonathan Shapiro, award-winning cartoonist with the Johannesburg-based Sunday Times whose cartoon identity was Zapiro. I illustrated the piece with a submission that though political cartooning may look harmless, it can be nerve-racking, provoking the bile of political office holders and triggering a huge political umbrage in the process. This cartoon triggered a huge ball of fire in South Africa. Named ‘Rape of Lady Justice’, in it, Zuma, who was then leader of the African National Congress (ANC), and later to become president, was seen loosening his trousers’ zippers for a sexual romp. On his head was a shower cap. Before him, flung on the bare floor, was a blindfolded lady with a lapel inscribed, “Justice System” hung on her chest.

 

Four hefty and menacing-looking men knelt by the Lady Justice’s side, holding down the “wench”, whose skirt was half peeled off. They were political surrogates of Zuma in the ANC, which included Julius Malema, then leader of the ANC Youth League. The scale of justice had fallen down beside the Lady Justice, with one of the men smilingly beckoning on Zuma to clamber her, muttering, “Go for it, boss!”

 

That cartoon shot Zuma into a fit. Indeed, he immediately sued Zapiro for the sum of £700,000. Massive reactions followed it, ranging from the condemnatory to the laudatory. The ANC, SACP and ANC Youth League pilloried it as “hate speech,” “disgusting” and “bordering on defamation of character” and then petitioned the South African Human Rights Commission for redress.

 

I went into all these dogo turenchi, just as I did in another piece I wrote on February 6, 2022, to ask that we must not underrate the power of sex in high places. In that February piece, I borrowed a line from Irish poet and playwright, Oscar Wilde, who said, “everything in the world is about sex, except sex. Sex is about power”. With it, I submitted that the Wilde theory should tell us that there is an intersection between gender, sexual power and political power. This was further escalated by renowned scholar, Prof Wale Adebanwi, in one of his journal articles, where he submitted that “the African man of power must display or exhibit his virility – particularly sexual virility.” In the same vein, Zimbabwean journalist and blogger, Fungai Machirori, urged us to study the sexual histories of our men in power because, from the rhythm of their silently dangling penises, we may find a compass to their politics.

 

Last Thursday, the ghost of the spat between Senate President, Godswill Akpabio and senator representing Kogi West, Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan, will seem to have rested. In the relations of power in the senate, on that day, Akpabio, it will seem, had succeeded in showing Akpoti-Uduaghan that, as bland-looking as the old Nigerian pence looked, it was not a currency to be trifled with by the Kobo coin (Bí tọrọ ṣe yọ to, kíì s’ẹgbẹ Kọbọ). Not only was she suspended for six months for violating senate rules and bringing the senate “to public opprobrium”, her salary and security details were withdrawn while her office would be locked during the pendency of the suspension.

 

If you watched the senate proceedings leading to Akpoti-Uduaghan’s suspension, you would be sorry for Nigeria. Then, African-American Sterling Brown would come to your mind, just as you visualize Jonathan Shapiro’s cartoon in Akpabio figuratively loosening his trousers’ zippers for a forceful sexual romp with the Lady Justice. With same lens, you would see Majority Leader, Opeyemi Bamidele, Adenigba Fadahunsi and other fawning senators holding down the “wench”, smilingly beckoning Akpabio to “Go for it, boss!”

 

Like Africans, African-Americans grew to know the wisdom which teaches that injustice is a furnace that burns and destroys. The life of Sterling Brown, professor at America’s Howard University, folklorist, poet and literary critic, was chiefly dedicated to studying black culture. In one of his poems entitled “Old Lem,” Brown wrote about mob violence and injustice which black people suffered in the hands of the American criminal justice system. American writer and civil rights activist, James Baldwin’s ‘The Fire Next Time’ also speaks to this theme. In the America of the time, black parents, aware of the danger of their blackness and the violence and death they could suffer, deployed folklore to cushion them, even as they told stories that depicted their skewed realities.

 

There was this famous folklore told to African-American children while growing up. Entitled “Old Sis Goose,” it goes thus, as I reproduce it verbatim: One day, “while swimming across a pond, Sis Goose got caught by Brer Fox. Sis gets pissed off because she believes that she has a perfect right to swim in the pond. She decides to sue Brer Fox. But when the case gets to court, Sis Goose looks around and sees that besides the Sheriff who is a fox, the judge is a fox, the prosecuting and defence attorneys are ones too and even the jury is comprised entirely of foxes. Sis Goose doesn’t like her chances. Sure enough at the end of the trial, Sis Goose is convicted and summarily executed. Soon, the jury, judge, Sheriff and the attorneys are picking on her bones.”

 

The morals of this old anecdote are two. One, as encapsulated in one of the lines of Apala musician, Ayinla Omowura’s track, is that, if you do not have a representative in a council where your matter will be decided, even if you are right, you would be adjudged guilty. The second moral is that, if the courthouse is filled with foxes and you are an ordinary, lonely goose, there will be no justice for you.

 

In the senate last week, Akpoti-Uduaghan was Sis Goose who looked around and saw that, beside the judge, Akpabio who is a fox, the prosecuting and defence attorneys were all foxes, too. Even the jury is comprised entirely of foxes. Though they appeared as unbiased umpire senators, they were flesh-starved foxes baying for blood of the hapless little Goose. And Sis Goose was summarily executed.

 

First, we must realize that, just like other Nigerian institutions, the power, glory, graft and corruption at the beck and call of Akpabio’s senate presidency is breathtakingly awesome and humongous. Don’t mind his suffocation of these agencies in his most times nauseating jokes, Akpabio has the power to literally turn anyone’s night into day. If you enter his senate as a pauper and find favour in his ego, you could upstage Mansa Musa, ninth Mansa of the Mali empire’s wealth. Owing to this largesse in his hands, as ants gravitate towards the pee of a diabetic, the senate president has the pleasure of a humongous number of solicited and unsolicited fawners and senatorial Oraisa (praise-singers) and hangers-on latching to his apron strings. It is a tactic to have a bite of the corruptive mountain of pies in the hands of the titular. This need to grovel by the feet of power was affirmed by Senator Opeyemi Bamidele. Akpoti-Uduaghan had alleged that, in a midnight call he made to her, he had threatened that, if Akpabio went down, she, too (ostensibly meaning a huge mound of free wealth) would similarly go into the incinerator.

 

As I recalled last week, immediately Akpoti-Uduaghan leveled allegations of sexual harassment against Akpabio on Arise TV, a build-up began to salvage Akpabio, the King Fox and prevent the largesse empire from falling. First came Onyekachi Nwaebonyi, senator representing Ebonyi North. Nwaebonyi’s fawning is nauseating. On a television show, he acknowledged Akpabio, a first among equals senator, as “our father” and had to be rebuked like an erring kindergarten pupil by the anchor of the programme. Nwaebonyi later came back to attack Akpoti-Uduaghan in the unkindest manner as a serial philanderer. Thereafter came Ireti Kingibe and Neda Imasuen. While Kingibe, who claimed to have driven herself to the television station, struggled frenetically to make her female senator colleague the victimizer, she deodorized King Fox as her victim. Imasuen, chairman senate committee on ethics, even before his committee sat on the alleged infraction of Akpoti-Uduaghan, told the world on another television interview that Akpabio shared same beatification qualities with Angel Gabriel. The question then is, if Nwaebonyi, Kingibe, Yemi Adaramodu and Imasuen could externalize an issue on television and not the parliament, what criminalizes, in the so-called senate rules, Akpoti-Uduaghan doing same?

 

At the televised senate hearing, King Fox, in defiance of the rules of equity and justice, was judge, jury and accused who sat in judgment over his own case. Second, it was obvious that the foxes had gathered for Akpoti-Uduaghan’s legislative obsequies. It was also apparent that the executioners had been carefully selected for the job. One by one, the senators assembled arsenal with which to shed the Kogi senator’s blood. Chief Whip Mohammed Monguno clinically prepared the guillotine. Spears, axes, knives and swords were readied. Monguno stood up and went into oblique narration of how Standing Order 55(1) had been violated. Now, like an objectionable character, a meddlesome interloper who Yoruba call Karambani, Kogi West Senator, Sunday Karimi, acting like all fawners at the feet of power, admitted he put Akpabio in “this problem” because he pleaded with King Fox to allot chairmanship position to Akpoti-Uduaghan.

 

Then, Ade Fadahunsi, ex-Customs officer, representing Osun East, began his own gibber on the floor of the senate. While accepting that the senate was a consequential parliament and that its integrity(?) had gone down, Fadahunsi saw the allegation of sexual harassment against King Fox as “mere trivial matter” and admitted he didn’t “want to know what is the undercurrent.” In his parliamentary arrogance, Fadahunsi even saw it as “an insult” for “a radio we licensed” to invite a man alleged to have gone on a rampaging libido to come and explain what he saw inside the pot of soup that made him tilt his hands suggestively (t’ó rí l’obe t’ó fí gaaru ọwọ). Fadahunsi then lifted the bible to reify his doggerel, fawning over King Fox in the process.

 

Still during the executioners’ hearing aimed at taking Akpoti-Uduaghan through the gallows, Mohammed Dandutse, representing Katsina South senatorial district, stood up, his babanriga fluffing helplessly like the lame hand of an invalid. He waffled so pitiably that you would wonder what he was talking about. After him, Cyril Fasuyi, in his usual kowtow, did not fail to fawn. Even Senator Ita Giwa, on television, propounded a bizarre theory which argued that, once a woman had risen to become a senator, she was immune to sexual harassment. This pitiably suggested that a woman senator must have had enough of men to be moved by the typhoon of their harassment. Nigerians’ mouths were agape.

 

So many issues crop up from the Akpoti-Uduaghan travails. The first can be seen from Opeyemi Bamidele’s argument in favour of her suspension. During this executioners’ session, he argued that the Kogi senator must have been so execrable in behaviour that, all political parties, all genders and all age demographics were in alignment with King Fox against her. Opeyemi did not tell Nigerians that the executioner senators were only defending their esophaguses in the hands of King Fox.

 

As argued by many, the National Assembly is our modern day equivalent of the “I” as “We” thesis, the secrecy and single-purpose pursuit cult of the Yoruba Ogboni fraternity. Espoused by Peter Morton-Williams in his journal article entitled, “The Yoruba Ogboni Cult” (Africa: Journal of the International African Institute, Vol. 30, No. 4 (Oct., 1960, pp. 362-374) Morton-Williams didn’t follow Leo Frobenius’ earlier 1910 examination of the Ogboni cult in Ibadan, in the process of which he referred to its members as “mystery-mongering greybeards’.

 

Morton-Williams classified the Ogboni Cult into two grades membership – the Wé-Wé -Wé – ‘children’ of the cult, its junior grade Ologboni or Alawo (Owners of the Mystery or the Secret), and the the Olori Oluwo, ritual head of the Ogboni. The Nigerian senate is similarly classified, with the Senate President replicating the Oluwo. The senate chambers, which is akin to the Ilédì (lodge) of the Ogboni, is where secrets are lidded. In Ogboni cult, kolanuts are split and eaten as an act of reminder that the Ogboni members are bonded in secrecy. This act makes it very hard for any of the Ogboni to factionalize the fraternity and breaking the pod of secrecy that binds the cult. Any member who violates this code courts ritual sanction. As the Ẹdan Ogboni, a pair of brass/bronze figure that represents male/female, linked by a chain, is a symbol of membership and abidance by the rules, so is the Senate Order book. So, when Remi Tinubu, a woman who had also once been a victim of verbal sexual flagellation, also came out to reinforce the power of the secrecy of the Senate over an alleged debasement of womanhood, it only confirmed the fraternal solidarity of this modern senate cult.

 

The Akpoti-Uduaghan travails have so many symbolisms. One is gender, in which case, the Kogi senator is suffering the audacity of her femininity. In this patriarchal society, it is a crime for a woman to be beautiful, brainy and, on top of it, attempt to disrupt the status-quo. The penal sanction meted out to such disruptors is ostracism or death, as is in the Ogboni cult. Second is that, as the pigeon (eyele), the bird that eats and drinks with the house owner in time of plenty, the senate fraternity considers it sacrilegious for Akpoti-Uduaghan to repudiate the fraternity oath. The Ilédì, Senate chambers, a la Senator Ita Giwa, is home for the lascivious, the sleazy and the heart-wrenching. As the harvest for the seed of membership of Ogboni is prestige, wealth and societal honour, for the Nigerian senator, it is humongous cash. If Akpoti-Uduaghan is aquaphobic, not ready to face the ostracism that logically comes from fighting a fraternity’s status-quo of which she had been a member, she had no reason to jump inside the river.

 

For the man of power, sex is a conquest game, won either by shedding drops of a virile libido or the victory of ego over a woman traducer. It was what Adebanwi meant by his “the African man of power must display or exhibit his virility – particularly sexual virility.” As it stands now, Fox Akpabio has succeeded, according to Akpoti-Uduaghan’s unsubstantiated allegation, in being “made happy” through his summary execution of the Goose. For how long? Only time will tell.

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