As Kemi Adeosun escapes justice

Unlike his British counterpart, the Naija person doesn’t know much. They don’t know that politics is not a dirty game. They don’t know that it is not one reserved for daintily dressed-scam artists, failed thieves who end up as sinnators; local government maladministrators who make it as commissioners, ministers or board members. The Naija person […]

Unlike his British counterpart, the Naija person doesn’t know much. They don’t know that politics is not a dirty game. They don’t know that it is not one reserved for daintily dressed-scam artists, failed thieves who end up as sinnators; local government maladministrators who make it as commissioners, ministers or board members.

The Naija person is a fool for his politrician. His sense of accountability suffers when the corrupt politrician shares his religious persuasion and geographical identity. Never a Sai Babarian why they support their idol, they don’t need reasons -Sai Baba till 2023!

Kemi Adeosun knows about Naija ignorance that the citizen is king. In Britain her tribal parliamentarians ride on public transport clutching their own files. Kemi was headhunted by elders on their knees. She did not take part in the NYSC scheme, how does an ajebo subscribe to a scheme that translates into – Now Your Suffering Continues or Never You Seek Comfort?

There’s no Naija marrow in her bones. Take a second look at her inauguration dress and see the awkwardness of Theresa May dancing out of step with schoolchildren in Kenya. She wore the buba and iro and gele like fish doped out of water because someone made her.  Unlike her British counterpart, Kemi was received at the airport with an official car and entourage. She was not prevented from opening her car door and lost her right to carry or answer her own phone to state agents. If she had a driving license on arrival, she was forbidden to attempt suicide on Naija roads as her chauffeur slices through traffic with the help of a dispatch rider. If Philip Hammond attempted that, the scandal would kill Theresa May.

Kemi did not go to Wuse market to buy condiments to prepare Oga’s lafun and ewedu. A washed, cleansed and presentable cook medically certified exam with traceable background did that. This cook woke up to make breakfast while madam was cuddling her beau. He gently raps on the door to announce that meal is served, stands at attention while Madam munches and stays awake until madam returns home for dinner 24/7. British ministers leaf through the yellow pages for different restaurants on low budget while Adeosun does not have to count cost.

Real life couldn’t be this good outside fiction. Not many tokunbos exposed to this rewarding of indolence wants it to end and Kemi is no different. As honourable minister, a title she cherished so much it featured on her Twitter handle, she was encased with privileges, a fat salary she did not have to touch. She could go to London in a presidential jet while British counterpart must fly British Airways.

Our spoilt British brat moved from relative obscurity to one in which she rubbed shoulders with global financial gurus. She could take them to lunch, with ministry officials and Naija diplomats waiting to sign off the bills.

Boris Jonson was London’s mayor before life as a minister. Adeosun did not have to sign up as a member of the ruining party, they’d beg her with a filled form and signed form. When Johnson no longer shared May’s Brexit plan, he resigned in honour.

Kemi is above enquiry at the NYSC headquarters in Abeokuta, she rented a tout who returned later with an exemption certificate. British UKSV would have discovered her fraud, dropped her and passed the file to the police for prosecution. If she plead ignorance they’ll retort with – ignorantia juris non excusat. The Naija DSS wouldn’t reject a governor or the president’s nominee. A Sai Babarian simply stamped her form with approved. This is Muhammadu Buhari, Mr. Integrity,’s Naija where people still don’t know whether a monkey or snake swallowed president’s certificate.

Kemi had no reasons to doubt the vetting of the most lackadaisical intelligence agency on planet earth; one whose failure unleashed Boko Haram on us and one likely to lock up the National Assembly than discover a ritualist’s den. It was infra dignitatem for a tokunbo ajebo to queue behind unwashed ajepako at the NYSC headquarters when a tout was at hand to do it for her.

When Premium Times broke the story, Kemi forgot her British honour hoping Sai Baba’s infamous turare would cover the putrescence of her forgery. She knows that Mr. Integrity was loath to sack Babachir Lawal; that he overlooked the backdoor recruitments into NNPC, CBN and other dollarized agencies. She saw Maina returned through the backdoor until he was exposed. She probably read how Danjuma, the police officer behind the Apo 6 massacre now an AIG.

Kemi knows that in lawless Naija, a notorious drug pusher changed his name after escaping jail in the US to become a ‘distinguished’ sinnator of the feral republic. So, she sniggered at the Premium Times report with the una go taya attitude for nearly two months. A nation that glossed over its president’s lost certificate would excuse a minister with forged papers.

Every day, the people kept nudging the government of integrity not to keep a Cockney-accent for the fun of it. Her crime carries a maximum of 14 years imprisonment but she kept a stolid face, negotiating and signing documents for the nation she had little respect for.

Honour takes on every colour to those who lack it. There’s honour in James Ibori after serving term in London. Akpabio is distinguished berating the 16-years of PDP rot that made him. Britain would never give Kemi the privilege Naija gave her. She’s safely back home knowing that nobody would ever bring her to book for denigrating our corporate integrity of our country and spitting in our faces. It’s a shame that we lower standards by letting the camels of forgery pass through the eye of the needle of integrity.

We won’t miss you Kemi. Our 200 million population would parade British-Nigerians in your face as you settle back there. You’ll meet them speaking more fone that you; watch them display their garments of integrity than you could ever see. They’re A-class students, bus and taxi drivers, and cleaners with panache. They’ll show up in hospitals as doctors, nurses and paramedics. You’ll jam them in firms as consultants with years of unblemished records, officers of the police, intelligentsia and in British Armed Forces. They carry their Naija heritage with pride and dignity. They’ll never point to their father’s house with the fingers that wipe where the sun don’t shine. When faced with temptation, they don’t wait to be pushed – they jump.