In
1930, Langston Hughes, the Harlem Renaissance poet’s poet,
published Not without Laughter. His narrative spoofed the
dualities of the beautiful and ugly in black life. I feel impressed
to borrow that title to explore the incongruous in Nigeria where
nothing adds up, try as I do to understand it.
I
wonder if Bob Marley had Nigeria in mind when he crooned in “Rat
Race” that, “In the abundance of water the fool is
thirsty”. The rat race metaphor aptly captures how high profile
villains controlling state affairs here run over themselves,
recklessly scarfing resources entrusted to their care. If Britain had
not hastily foisted the name Nigeria on us to help her easily
identify the area a Papal Bull carved out to her to pillage, perhaps
an appropriately logical name would have been Bountiful, for we have
everything, both the good and the ugly gratuitously yoked, and
contrary to commonsense.
I am
not merely thinking of the impossible paradox of Nigeria being the
greatest exporter of oil in Africa while 80% of its population
grovels on less than a dollar daily. I am not thinking of our
squandered oil wealth or even the contradiction of having a federal
constitution but running a unitary government where many states
produce nothing, but greedily feed on oil proceeds stolen from the
minorities. Rather, I am stumped by how we foolishly abuse other
resources highly esteemed in other countries.
I am
thinking of the drenching rainfall and blinding sunshine we fritter
away. During our rainy season, the skies open their floodgates and
throw cats and dogs at us. The sodden rain puddles everywhere as
drainages are scanty and the existing few are clogged by putrid
refuse dumped by despairing folks who find no meaningful disposals
for their waste. The inability to create reservoirs for use when the
sun turns everything into a boil months later highlights the
absurdity of poor stewardship and politics that care nothing about
the wellbeing of the people.
Consequently,
during the dry season, water is so scarce people have to catch what
they use in bathing -- germs, scum and all -- to flush their toilets.
Such dirty practice contributes scarily to low life expectancy.
Then
there is our fiery sun which chars everything during its season. If
we were not so bum-kneed we would have tapped and stored all that
sunshine rather than allow incessant power outage to blanket and
snuff out our nights with an indescribable darkness. Instead of
exploiting our unfailing sun, we busily import generators with
questionable value from Asia. Apart from entire families dying in
their sleep inhaling toxic fumes belched by these generators,
criminals cash in on the inky, pitch black nights to wreak havoc on
their victims.
The
political clowns who nicknamed Nigeria the Elephant of Africa had an
uncanny humor given how we plod clumsily and heavily, trampling
everything of value along our path. Before it was looted clean, we
had a national airline that had the elephant as its mascot. Who ever
heard of a flying elephant?
Our
Police Force is a misshapen and pathetic thing. Ironically, the
so-called Force’s motto is, “The Police is your Friend”.
But don’t be fooled; it is actually the most unfriendly thing
you would ever encounter in the country, especially if you cannot
come up with the bribe it demands. The craven friends the police know
and respect are the rich and the criminal who pay whatever bribes
demanded.
A
Reverend Father once narrated how he was harassed by the police in a
manner in tune with the egregious violation of citizens by state
power. While on a night trip, his car had hit one of the many vicious
potholes that pockmark our roads. The furious crater ripped off the
back axle of his car and, while trying to figure out what to do about
his misfortune, a police patrol car drove by.
Asked
what he was doing traveling alone at that time of the night, the
gentleman bantered that he was not actually alone, as every space in
his car was filled by the Spirit. His response provided a chance for
the police to demand a bribe. When he refused, the police instantly
slapped two charges on him. He was booked for “wandering in the
night, reckless driving and carrying more passengers than was allowed
by the law”!
In
Nigeria, mission homes and Church property, especially cars and van,s
are usually soft targets for armed robbers. In one incident, a
certain mission president was returning from a temple lighting
ceremony. On the way home he was kidnapped. His kidnappers drove him
deep into the jungle and demanded he hand over his car and all the
money on him to them. The missionary told his captors that the car
belonged to the Church and what money he had was the Lord’s.
The
thugs thoughtfully considered his explanation and said they would let
him go. However, they said, they would keep the car and all the money
they found on him for it was safer, they reasoned, to steal from God
than man! They drove him to the roadside and gave him just enough for
his fare back to his destination.
The
poor missionary reported the matter to the police on getting home.
The policemen asked him what he expected of them. They dismissed him
with the advice that he ought to be grateful to have escaped alive.
If he was observant, they said, he would have noticed that the path
to the jungle hideout of the kidnappers was littered with dead bodies
of victims who were not so fortunate!
Before
rushing to a condemnation, consider that the police is an animal of
its environment. A patron saint of Nigeria’s best known brand,
the Force thrives on corruption. The Police Academy where cadets
receive training is a sordid eyesore. Some of these colleges with
over two hundred trainees have only four broken and roach infested
bathrooms. Often these are moldy, without running water and no
shower heads. Yet each year, the Nigerian authorities pour $250
million into each of its several police academies, but the money is
routinely embezzled by the police chiefs. The few who get caught get
away with a slap on the wrist. To get recruited into the Force,
candidates have to pay hefty sums as bribes to the recruiters. When
they graduate and are sent on patrol, their superiors expect them to
routinely turn over money extorted from members of the public for
driving offenses and other crimes.
Often
policemen would kill their victims for refusal to pay a bribe as
paltry as two cents. The Nigerian public has various nicknames for
its police force, the most fearsome being “Kill-and-go”.
This suggests the culture of impunity which such trigger-happy
policemen enjoy when they murder innocent civilians.
Typical of the sordid collapse of our state functions,
what masquerades as government lacks the basic will to secure the
lives and property of its citizens. While it budgets billions of
dollars yearly for security, only the dubious rich who can afford
bullet-proof doors and windows, coats of mail and armored cars can
lull themselves to sleep without fear of being cut down by marauders.
Imo Ben Eshiet was born in Port Harcourt, Nigeria. Raised in his village, Uruk Enung, and at
several cities in his country including Nsukka, Enugu, Umuahia, Eket and Calabar, Eshiet is a
detribalized Nigerian. Although he was extensively exposed to Western education right from
childhood in his country where he obtained a PhD in English and Literary Studies from the
University of Calabar, he is well nurtured in African history, politics, culture and traditions.
Imo is currently a teacher in the high priests group in the Summit Ward of the Greensboro North
Carolina Stake.