Detective Fashola and Other Matters Arising
Ah! Naija never ceases to amaze and stupefy one into silence. In Igbo, we say that something has eaten our mouth when we see/hear of things so unbelievable that we are lost for words. But someone wise once said that silence isn’t always an option. Naija presents us daily with events that eats our mouth […]
Ah! Naija never ceases to amaze and stupefy one into silence.
In Igbo, we say that something has eaten our mouth when we see/hear of things so unbelievable that we are lost for words. But someone wise once said that silence isn’t always an option. Naija presents us daily with events that eats our mouth (remember the snake that swallowed N36 million?). However, the best way to deal with the silence our country tries to bamboozle one into is to break through and speak out. If you hold it in, you run the risk of running mad. So as not to run mad, I am speaking out.
It’s been a crazy week following the very well organized #EndSARS protests: the killing of protesters by the government, the opportunistic looting and vandalization which arose out of the government’s inability (unwillingness?) to contain the thugs who railroaded the protests, Buhari’s useless speech, Indaboski’s claim to have foreseen (but curiously not foretold the protests), people social media had declared dead suddenly resurrecting and affirming their aliveness, but none is quite as stupefying as former Governor Babatunde Fashola turning detective and discovering a camera that was strategically placed at the scene of the Lekki shooting. Wonders shall never cease!
In case you’ve been under a rock and missed it, this is what happened: a week after a protest that saw citizens dispersed (and some eliminated) by soldiers shooting into the crowd, in the days of wanton looting , in the nation’s crime capital (arguably), a camera sits patiently waiting , like the River Niger, for Fashola ( surrounded by the press and accompanied by a multitude of witnesses) to ‘discover’ it , the same way Mungo Park ‘discovered’ the river. Awon discoverers. In the footage (and if you haven’t seen it yet, it is because you have intentionally chosen not to see and I don’t blame you), Inspector Detective Chief CID officer ( and whatever else he imagines himself to be) Fashola does the Big Man walk (hands behind his back) accompanied by his people. He inspects drains for maybe the blood of the dead and the injured (do I know?). After that odd inspection of Lekki’s drains, he strolls off, stopping occasionally to look at some point in the sky (maybe he saw a useful sign there) and then walks a bit more purposefully towards the object of his discovery. Having ‘stumbled upon it,’ he gingerly picks it up with a black handkerchief to be analyzed for evidence. I don’t know who assured him that this was a good idea, a PR stunt that would make him seem useful, something no logical person would see through as sheer buffoonery. If someone convinced him to do this, that person doesn’t wish him well at all, at all. That person wanted to see him make him a fool of himself in this era of social media where everything lives on. Years from now, when Fashola tries to rewrite his role, he can be rest assured that someone will pull up this silliness of him playing Poirot.
The charade of the discovery, coupled with the government’s inability to respond in kind to a peaceful protest and to contain the chaos that exploded, is symptomatic of a deeper malaise which points to a rot at the head. It is the same here in the United States under the bumbling administration of the failed businessman known as Donald Trump. When the government is headed by an incompetent, biased individual given to dictatorial tendencies, the consequence is a descent into anarchy and the kind of gaslighting that has been going on in both Nigeria and the United States.
As a citizen of Nigeria and a resident of the United States, it has seemed to me, for a while, like I am being constantly hit on the back of my head by some invisible hand. I wake up heart pounding, too scared to check news feeds. I cannot take emotional solace in either my country of residence or my country of birth. I have taken to giving myself a day off from the world when I pretend that nothing exists outside my home. That is my survival tactic. On that day, I read books that make me happy, drink lots of excellent coffee, play games, resist the attempt to check social media. Recently, I have added not stepping outside to the list of things I do not do on that day because of two of my neighbors. They have put up Trump/ Pence 2020 boards in their front yards (and I really cannot stand to see the signs so close to my home, in the front yards of people who are otherwise reasonable and good neighborly). My mental health is important to me and whatever else Buhari and Trump take from me, whatever else Nigeria and America take from me, they will not take my mental health. Amen.
Luckily, as happens in countries claiming democracy, there are elections to ensure that bad leaders are kicked out. My only hope is that more people than not have had enough of poor leadership that they exercise their right to vote responsibly by voting out scum. That is the hope I cling to, to keep from being completely dragged under by the mess we are in right now. For the US, it’s not too long now until November 3. For Nigeria, I am eagerly counting down too. In the meantime, aluta continua. As my people say, it shall be well. Amen ooooooooooooooo.