Losing My Senses

 

 

I’ve been thinking. In the face of much disenchantment, what would happen if I lost my senses. Like many a depressed Nigerian, the mind veers off sometimes. Then, I wonder if life would be better without “number 5.”

  

If, for instance, I lost my power of “taste,” I could eat just anything, couldn’t I? That, I’m sure, would be the solution to the Obasanjo-induced hunger in the land. I could swallow stone, the way I do eba, and still go on strong. On the other hand, I may not even be hungry, since I’d have no feeling, abi? Indeed, I won’t need to know if a particular food had salt or fish or meat in it. It wouldn’t matter if the dish were Yoruba, Igbira, Efik, Igbo, Ibibio, Hausa, etc. Just stuff the thing down the throat, drink water and say thank you. I could drink tea with vinegar and lick my lips like I just had a breakfast of sugar sauce. All those would save me the problem of having to buy those tiny things that seem inconsequential but aren’t. 

 

Certainly, if I lost my sense of “touch,” I won’t feel pain, anymore. Just think, the next time I had a flat tyre, I could easily lose the knots with my bare fingers.  And no “area boy,” robbers or police would intimidate me because I won’t feel pain if they decided to manhandle me. Only problem would be if I lost much blood from (a) bullet wound(s) inflicted by the robbers or trigger-happy cops.

 

However, I won’t need Obasanjo’s fuel. He could raise the prices and “tax” the fuel like I’d care. When I can trek from Ikorodu to Apapa, a distance of about 50 kilometres, without fear of body ache? Snag is, if I didn’t “feel” anything, I could easily break my baby’s frail bones, without realising. And, if I had broken bones, I wouldn’t know that they would be incapable of carrying my tiny frame. I would then end up crawling like Nebuchadnezzar.

 

Perhaps, the best part of this “senseless” experience would be if I lost my “hearing.” Indeed, that would save me from the greatest amount of stress. To start with, I wouldn’t know if my wife cursed me after I complained about the meat in the soup, when, in fact, the money I left for it was not enough. No one around me would complain that his peers had better toys, books, clothes, etc. But then, my wife probably would come up with an ingenious way of getting my attention, especially when it concerns the kids.

Well, for sure, quarrelsome neighbours would have no effect on my nerves. And I wouldn’t hear the high-pitch blast of their radio set. Complaining nosy relatives would only be pouring water on the hen’s back. Probably, it  would be very nice.

 

Imagine if every Nigerian lost his hearing. Who would listen to a provoking broadcast by a self-righteous president or his ego-massaging media chat? We wouldn’t have heard of a civilian dictator, who preaches “sacrifice” and “belt-tightening” to service his ostentatious lifestyle. A man, who taxes even our soup pots so he can use the proceeds to buy a N10billion Boeing 737 jet. He always must get what he wants – his own way. The jet thing worsened his rift with Anyim and Na’Abba. Still, he brought it up again, last week. 

 

Haba! We wouldn’t have learnt they spent N360million to demolish tollgates. And the burning of N3.2 billion calendars printed by ministries. Believe me, our ears would have felt better, if we were hard of hearing. We wouldn’t have heard the Ngige-Uba crisis. That a governor swore at a shrine to sell his people. That he reneged later, playing an eventual underdog in a funny-looking comrade’s cap. Now, no governor would have heard the Works minister, Adeseye Ogunlewe’s quarrel over who repairs which road. And, maybe, we would have had better roads now. Just maybe. But isn’t there a danger somewhere? We won’t hear any bomb blast, would we? And if we lived in Abuja, El Rufai’s bulldozer probably would run us over. Unless we saw it coming! 

 

But what, if there was no “sight”? There probably would be no jealousy. What the eyes do not see, the heart does not grieve over, abi? So, husbands wouldn’t split hairs over their wife’s suspected promiscuity. Vice versa. Those seemingly wonderful creatures showing off their best – and worst – on our streets, on campuses, at the beaches, would be out of trick. I break my neck sometimes, trying to “see” what they are trying to “show.” Perhaps, some of them with gobbled skin folds pouring out of a three-month old’s attires might just think of wearing more clothing, if no one was “seeing” them. For, sleep and wakefulness are the same to the sightless. 

 

If you had a kid still in diaper, you’d appreciate the good smell more. As Nigerians put it, “yeye de smell”. And if you want to be sure, pass through Ojota and Ijesha bus stops – in Tinubu’s Lagos. Aside the reemerging refuse heaps on the streets, burnt ones constantly pollute the air, making those using those routes wish they had no sense of smell. Indeed, “yeye de smell.” Just like walking past a being with body odour. Hell! It could be a mix of everything rotten. And that puts a man off. Same to a woman. But supposing there was no sense of smell, appearance alone could have been enough attraction.

 

I know. Soon, some sadists would forget that this is just metaphorical. They may even treat this as an open invitation to poke me in the eyes. I might as well get one judge to  get me an injunction, before somebody pushes me into a toilet like Ngige. Only problem is, where would I get the kind of money these judges charge? See what Obasanjo’s policies have caused? Even courts, once the common man’s hope, have been “monetised.” 

 

Truly, I’ve been wondering which judge would help me with the kind of judgement Nelson Achuckwu got in Justice Nnaji’s court. The main prayer was about human rights; the most prominent judgement became Ngige’s ouster. Now, I want a ruling against all those who have “forced” me into thinking of losing my senses. That’s an infringement on my rights. And my lefts, too. An infringement on my rights to five (or even more) senses. It’s even an infringement on my freedom to decide whether or not I need the senses. I want an order against all the insensitive politicians. I need it fast, before the judges are forced to do the psychiatric test Chukwuemeka Ezeife suggested. If all the judges are found to have mental problem, I may never get a judgement that would remove Obasanjo, Attah, Tinubu, my mechanic, etc.

 

Really, the implication of test on judges would be grave. Ezeife said we should “test” new judges. But somebody added that all the judges need the psycho-probe. So, what happens to the rulings made by judges eventually found to be mad? 

 

Well, if the judges must do the “brain test,” then the politicians too must pass through the scan, too. And why not? Who induces the judges to give funny rulings? Politicians. Well, some, like Lawrence Osagie, pastor of Powerline Ministries, may say it’s poverty.  And they’d be right. Poverty made more gripping by strangulating policies originated from Otta Farms. Poverty that leads to tomorrow’s uncertainty – hence greed. The whiff of money then makes the judges salivate like Pavlov’s dog. One judge allegedly collected about N200million and another N10million, recently, – for “bedroom judgements.”

 

 Well, considering their poor pay and zero retirement benefits, they “lose” their senses and go for the “better devil.” Imagine if judges and politicians do the Ezeife test and our “leaders” fail. Ha! Would we still accept to be ruled by people who have lost their senses?  I really wonder.

 

• First published in Saturday Sun of  Jan 24, 2004