Femi Adesina’s royal ordeal
At first glance, I thought Oga Femi Adesina should not have written that piece – I’ve been To London To See the King. Neither the allusion, nor the analogy bodes well for him as spokesman, nor his pedigree as former editor and president of the Guild. At the risk of being tagged as taking paracetamol […]
At first glance, I thought Oga Femi Adesina should not have written that piece – I’ve been To London To See the King. Neither the allusion, nor the analogy bodes well for him as spokesman, nor his pedigree as former editor and president of the Guild. At the risk of being tagged as taking paracetamol for another person’s headache, I have nothing but pity for Adesina after reading the piece. The innuendoes are so glaring that I believe he did not reach for a cup of his favourite juice after writing that. He is a pastor and Naija pastors generally read their drink prescriptions in favour of pops.
When Sai Mama returned from London vowing that hyenas and jackals would be chased out of the kingdom, the implications of the zoological allusion in the light of Biafraud leader Nnamdi Kanu calling Naija a zoo were too close. Calling Sai Baba a King could lead to several suppositions as some aggrieved voters feel that their president was treating them like lower members of the royal consort rather than kingmakers.
This is why those in public office or in the fringes should speak to their media aides before launching into open-ended figures of speech. When Sai Baba’s used a famous Hausa proverb in an interview, his nose was nearly bloodied by his political enemies. Before another member of the kitchen cabinet (every pun intended) launches another zoological allusion, they should be conscious of the vulnerable rules of interpretation.
It is curious how people around an elected president fall in love with royal adjectives when Africa’s electoral monarchs are in the hall of infamy in the pantheon of democrats. Two years into a presidency that some can’t wait to see end; these allusions are disturbing. However those in the rock hardly feel the pulse of Nyanya or Makoko residents. Or how does one take a royal nursery rhyme when the writer believes that medical tourism financed on public taxes by the man who banned others from the luxury is not a moral faux pas? If Her Majesty should be in hospital today, Commonwealth members would be informed about what ails the Queen. But no need making comparison between sleep and death!
Reading through Oga Adesina’s piece moved me to tears. The job of a presidential spokesman is well defined in established democracies and Reuben Abati alluded to it in an article on the subject of Sai Baba’s health tourism. He wrote that a spokesperson should be where his principal is. That’s what they’re hired to do. Nobody tells a story better than an eyewitness. If anyone thinks that they know better than the spokesperson, they should take up the title and let the figure head go home to tea and biscuits. Nobody should block access to a first-hand account of your principal’s story or its spin. Buhari’s London health tourism is his spokesperson’s test of professionalism and a nation’s right to the truth about the health of their leader.
Not only has Adesina been robbed of a hundred days of allowances, he has missed out on an opportunity and exposed the workings of the cabal always in control in Camp Buhari. They determine who sees the president and who’s locked out. No matter how glossy Adesina excuses their control with stories of media inclusion from the jamboree, the control of the cabal is disdainful and disrespectful on all fronts.
Buhari is lucky to have a mob of unquestioning supporters blinded to the moral, economic or security implications of his long absence. In other climes, his error of judgment would have cost him his seat. If Adesina had plucked the courage to resign on the grounds of direct usurpation of his professional duties, the ensuing scandal could have been disastrous.
It is scandalous when a presidential spokesman is reduced to being told what functions to attend and which ones to steer clear of. It’s shameful when the man who should brief is himself being briefed or diplomatically snubbed. It’s ludicrous that Adesina sees nothing wrong with this aberration to proudly chronicle it, albeit tongue in cheek. Reading through Adesina’s piece reduces professionalism to the level of beggarliness. Even in London, Adesina had to wait in a hotel for the next move. He was obviously praying and savouring the voyage on British Airways, not on Air Force One.
I imagine him being herded into Naija House to see the King; his joy at finally sighting and pumping his principal’s hand for the first time in three months while the cook, steward and valet had unfettered access to him. I picture him sitting on the breakfast table, lacking the appetite but induced to savour London banana, apples and dates by Sai Mama. Imagine being choreographed into the photo-op session by those with no understanding of the place of photography in public relations; then being told to leave town without the honour of a few seconds chat with his principal only to return and be ordered to announce the King’s return. Adesina admits his principal’s commendation of Lai as a better man but gloats over his love for the principal who does not trust him enough to disclose what ails him. Camp Buhari is a Villa of mavericks!
Every time I read a beautiful piece like his, the devil tells me things would never change until people find the proper name for a spade. It tells me respect is earned when people are courageous enough to return home in dignity than suffer opulent ignominy. But then, there must be something inherently wrong with me knowing that Oga Adesina thanks God every morning for this privilege to serve. I can’t wait for his memoir and what Orji Kalu thinks of his former editor. Oga Adesina’s memoir should win the Pulitzer and make his family proud that their breadwinner was counted worthy to serve this King. What would I not do for a morsel of London bread, that piece from the King’s table – better any day than amala and abula!