Ladoke
Akintola was a one-time premier of the then Western Region of Nigeria.
Smooth-talking, loquacious master of jabberwocky, Akintola was often
accused by his many opponents of crass corruption. His sarcastic
response sickened many both in his party and outside. The line is
memorable. “I didn’t eat the money, I spent it, whose grandfather can
swallow a penny?” he had said. The premier, in a manner of a stand-up
comedian, trivialised the behemoth called corruption, and today, the
monstrous Godzilla is still very much around sinking Nigeria deep into
thraldom and towering tribulations. Friends, this is the fungus among
us.
To date, our leaders determinedly
continue to trivialise the madness of financial misappropriation and the
long-term harm and hurt it unleashes on the destiny of Nigeria. This
wildfire menace and monstrous cascade continue unhindered. The loose
behaviours of some dare-devils in power now have become dangerous dance
steps on a free way to a volcanic conflagration threatening to gulp up
the beautiful but beleaguered country and spit it out down the abyss of
history .
I have decided in my small corner to
stop calling those leaders who steal from the nation’s treasury
“corrupt”. Because when you do, it seems the culprits perceive it is as a
deserved adornment of a chieftaincy title. So, they glee, and glow, and
gyrate over the nomenclature. And unfortunately, the attendant
historical punitive consequences meted out to “corrupt” Nigerian
government officials are nothing but a replica of the sham and shame
that take place in a shanty courthouse. All of them always get away.
It was both amusing and amazing when we
learnt that the government is now on a massive manhunt for the person
responsible for revealing the frenzy, frightful, shopping spree of
exotic armoured cars for the Minister of Aviation, Stella Oduah, that
cost taxpayers $1.6m. A man who should be celebrated and honoured
publicly is now the criminal. That is the state of things now in our
land where the celebrity becomes the culprit.
Also recently, the “New Peoples
Democratic Party” threw a challenge in the face of the PDP-run
government that it made $1.05bn in July 2013, and wanted to know what
happened to the dough. The platoons in the “New PDP” should know what
they are talking about. The “New PDP” and the ancient PDP used to be
conjoined twins until they were separated by the surgical scissors of
ambition, power, money and control. Together, they used to fight common
enemies, together they took orders under the same commander; they both
know what ammunition are used for what squabble, they both know where
the ammunition are kept, they know how the ammunition were procured, and
they still have the template and blueprint of operations in their
possession. When they allege that money is missing, the “New PDP” must
know what they are talking about.
Home and abroad, money is missing in
stacks and stashes. Home and abroad, our vaults are vanishing in
batches. Government recently admitted that between August and September
2013, Nigeria’s external reserves dropped by $1.33bn — from $47bn to
$45.67bn. Money is missing, projects are neither completed nor executed,
external reserves are on a free-fall, and we are not fighting any wars!
In my own thought, to call our leaders
“corrupt” is a musical alto and tenor in their ears. To call them
“corrupt” is an attempt to embellish the act, dress the behaviour in
angelic robe and toga, and sandblast the feisty festivals of banditry
and criminality that are going on in government. To call them “corrupt”
is to make the vice appear meek and mild, because it no longer carries
any correctional weight. Who said our leaders are corrupt? What is
going on is no longer corruption; government at all levels has become
grim gulags and concentration camps of heinous crime against humanity,
and a bromide and banal affront to divinity.
It has shown through recent developments
that these people don’t care if you call them “corrupt”. What follows
an uncovered case of corruption is usually a coronation of the
perpetrator. They are applauded and hailed as if they just scored a
winning goal in a World Cup final match. They either become chiefs in
their village, an Igwe in their clan, pastors in their churches, Imams
in their mosques, and Jeep-driving, jet-flying celebrity among us.
A “corrupt” official is either sent to
jail for a few hours or sent home to enjoy the loot and they live to
loot again. When corruption destroys an airline for example, the
government withdraws the licence after a gory accident and then
re-issues the licence with an upgrade when dust and noise seem to have
settled down on the outrage. To label anyone corrupt in Nigeria today
spurs an award-winning, honour-bestowing wining and dining event.
There is an uncanny incarceration of the
guy who stole N100, while the “oga at the top”, the untouchable ogre
who scooped in billons is slumbering easy in his state-of-the-art
mansion. Back in the day when you heard screams of “thieves” on any
Nigerian street, justice immediately rolled down like waters. Many of
our leaders are THIEVES! Who said they are corrupt? A former governor
who stole $55m while in office is corrupt? Another ex-governor who
siphoned an estimated US$250m of state funds is corrupt? Secretary
of the Police Pension Fund who stole over N5bn and you label him,
“corrupt”? Nigerian civil servants who President Goodluck Jonathan said
not too long ago “own more houses than Dangote” are not corrupt. The
malodorous mire and madness is not corruption. These people are THIEVES,
and they are ruining us all!
They are profusely profligate
perfectionists of pilferage who persistently pound their chests in a
disgraceful dare of the people. “What are they going to do”? They seem
to tell us. They are elite members of certified criminal country-clubs
of the Mephistopheles. They control the levers of who-and-who get
immunity from the impunity. While the people are crying, they are
laughing, while the people are agonising, they are aggrandising. While
the people are in pain, they are painting the whole world red with
parties and festivities from Paris to Puerto Rico, Bahrain to the
Bahamas, Denver to Dubai. When their children are getting married, money
is wasted like water, and many lives to whom the frittered money belong
in Nigeria are dying daily from hunger and hopelessness on the streets
of the “Giant of Africa”. The fungus among us has become a calcified
bone in the spine of the Nigerian nation, and it seems as if these
people are not going anywhere, and with stern obduracy, they are not
changing habits.
Into corruption, they are giving birth
to triplets; in thievery, they are raising them. And the offspring don’t
know any better but what Daddy and Mummy have taught them, so
corruption becomes a baton that is passed from one generation to the
other. They live in mansions and palaces built with sand of thieving and
gravel of deceiving. But houses built on sand cannot stand. One day,
and not too long, they will groan over their grabs and choke on their
grubs. Could they deceive God as they deceive a mere mortal? The answer
is No! Those who plow evil and those who sow trouble do reap it. Be not
deceived, God is not mocked; whatsoever a man sows, that he shall reap,
the Holy Book says.
I don’t know when, and I don’t know how,
but all I know is that this craze will soon stop in Nigeria! The
minority cannot muzzle the majority for too long, and thank God we are
more than them. We will wriggle, thread and tread through the knotty,
corrosive and catatonic crinkum-crankum that has been our story for a
long time in Nigeria, and launch into an autarky where all of our
thirst will be quenched, our hunger satisfied, and the dreaded,
slow-killer corruption confined into the leper’s colony far away from
us. And then, civility will reign. From the presidential palace to the
governor’s quarters civility will reign. From the senators’ mansion to
the ministers’ drive, civility will reign. From the church to the
mosque, from my house to yours, and then in all of our hearts, civility
will reign. Did I have some kind of Island of Patmos experience? No, I
can just feel it inside of me, and I am not alone.
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