Skip to main content

Thomas Crooks, The Trump Shooter, Is A Nigerian!

  Thomas Crooks Thomas Crooks was just an ordinary guy until he listened to his overtaxed brain.  Brain: Do you know you can be famous? Crooks: How? Brain: By attempting the infamous!  So, Crooks picked his father’s AR-15-style semiautomatic rifle. He listened to his confused brain again and headed to a rally nearby. Minutes later, he did a crooked thing by firing at Donald Trump!  Crooks wasn't a known professional crook. But he obviously had a enough crooked mind to store explosives in his car and home.  Yes, the Trump shooter was one man. But his name, “Crooks,” gave the impression of a multiple negative character. His crooked act and plans probably justified the addition of letter “s” to a his name, making him one but many crooks! Crooks’  “crooked shot missed Trump by an inch. Thomas Crooks was probably so crooked that he couldn't think straight. But thank God he couldn't shoot straight, either. Otherwise, the world would have missed a daring, straight...

Nigeria’s Anthem of Distraction.



I just tried an experiment. I started my generator that had only five litres of fuel. Then, I sang our current national anthem: “Arise o’compatriots…Nigeria’s call obey…” The generator went off! Fuel finished!


Few minutes later, the “power holders” brought light. I jumped in excitement and started singing the old anthem: “Nigeria, we hail thee…our own dear native land…” The light went off, again!


My younger brother called today, complaining about Lagos traffic. He was stuck for hours on Lagos-Ibadan Expressway. I asked him to sing the national anthem. He called back later, no miracle happened. I asked him to sing the old one, instead. He did. Nothing changed! He was at one spot, sweating in the blistering heat,  for seven hours!


Yet, in the grand theater of Nigerian politics, our lawmakers are eagerly turning into choirmasters. They now focus on the origin and lyrics of songs, instead of the well-being and health of the choristers. Grand maestros of misdirection!



Their latest show? A spirited debate on the merits of returning to an old national anthem. Some argue it promoted unity, while others bemoan that it was written by a foreigner. Imagine! A group of chefs are busy arguing about the garnish, while the kitchen is engulfed in flames!


The old anthem starts with “Nigeria we hail thee; our own dear native land…” A foreigner wrote it, agreed. But does that really matter? After all, our entire system of government has a foreign imprint. If we’re so serious about purging foreign influences, can we please return to pre-colonial governance? And, stop cowering and genuflecting whenever IMF coughs?


The current anthem, “Arise O’compatriots, Nigeria’s call obey… the labours of our heroes past shall never be in vain.” Have they not already? The irony is thicker than the traffic on the Lagos-Ibadan expressway. While the anthem urges us to honour the labours of our heroes, the fruits of those labours are disappearing under the very leaders urging us to sing.


But our lawmakers are (dis) honorable men. Very patriotic. Their keen sense of priorities can detect that the lyrics of a song are the key to solving Nigeria’s myriad problems. Bad leadership? Corruption? Greed? Mere footnotes in the grand operatic performance of our political elite. Only an idiot, like me, would say the anthem debate is a perfect distraction from the real issues at hand.



Okay, so we need an improved standard of living. We should be able to buy fuel without selling a kidney; eat good food without breaking the bank. And, we  seek a take-home pay that actually takes us home, not just halfway. Does it really matter, then,  which song should be the soundtrack to our daily struggles?


Our leaders are akin to children arguing over which bedtime story will put them to sleep faster, blissfully unaware of the real monsters under the bed. They seem to believe that harmonizing our national song can drown out the cacophony of our collective struggles. It’s adorable, really.


The real anthem that resonates with Nigerians is one of frustration and resilience. It’s the song of people enduring despite their leaders' best efforts to distract and deflect. As they hum and haw over the anthem, the true chorus and colour of Nigeria’s problems remain unsolved.


So, dear lawmakers, choose your anthem. Debate it till the cows come home. But, hey! No anthem, old or new, can clear the traffic, shorten any journey, reduce fuel price, resolve security problems or drawn our government-induced sorrows!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I DID A DNA TEST AND I WAS SHOCKED!

  Chief Oga was livid, eyes red like fresh tomatoe! He strode into his lavish living room, waving a DNA test result, as if it was  a winning lottery ticket. His voice boomed with indignation as he confronted his wife, who’s calmly scrolling through her phone as if nothing was amiss. Chief Oga: Adunni, this DNA test says Junior isn’t mine! What have you got to say to that?” The wife raised one eyebrow and returned to her phone. “Oh, dear. Must we discuss this now? I’m busy with Tapswap, I must win N10 billion in one minute from this virtual money. After that, I’ve Telemundo and Candy Crush Tournaments. Today is the finals.” Chief Oga: “When do you want to discuss it? When Junior is old enough to get married?“ Okay, Chief Oga just found out that his 9-year-old son was, ironically, not his. That discovery was part of a growing trend that’s recently turned DNA testing into Nigeria’s national pastime. Yet, the implications are far from trivial. Nigeria, a land where drama is a...

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 a...

Time to Name Our Own Hurricanes

  I don’t know why the “civilised” world picks names for disasters without considering Nigeria. It’s unfair to ignore a country that has borne the burden of every African nation, except Nigeria. Nigeria has tried, I swear by the biggest Bible. The biggest Quran. And my big head!   “Oyinbo” people are so selfish. Imagine, of all the names of natural disasters, none is African. No, Nigerian. That’s why I sent away my maid named Katrina. “Oyinbo” even name hurricanes after saints, girlfriends, years and First Ladies. One was named “Bess,” after President Harry Truman’s wife. Imagine! Why can’t they name one “Hurricane Stella”?   Anyway, I suspect the Americans are at the centre of this conspiracy. To deprive Nigeria of its God-given endowments. See, we may not have enough “natural disasters” to compete with the Western world. But our politicians and their families are enough in that category. And, we have created some disasters of national dimension, haven’t we?  I...