Our Real Misadventures

 

I’ve just learnt that there’s a sickness called “misadventure.”  Deadlier than AIDS. In fact, it kills like a sniper – leaving neat bullet wounds.  Ask Ehindero. Police said that’s what killed Alaba Joseph – the Mobitel MD. A week after they confirmed he died of gunshots. 

 

However, I’ve found out that “misadventure” has been with us for long. In different forms – police, PDP, military,  tummy-tuck surgery in Germany, etc. But then, there’s a simpler but generic name for Nigeria’s misadventure - “politician.” Somehow,  “misadventure” has acquired a terrible potency and it kills mysteriously. Its modified form, I’m told, is a combination of manipulated internal security and failed political abracadabra. Phew! Breathe in! Out! Calm down and don’t be afraid.

 

Well, but I am. Because we’ve more threats to the defenseless masses. Beyond, robbers, area boys, hunger, assassins, police/military ‘monkey war,’ etc, we now have to contend with “misadventure.”  And there’s the mystery fog and some smelly-mouthed politicians, too.  Now, I’m beginning to think even Ehindero was a “misadventure.” Like Tafa, Galadima, Christian Chukwu, Musa Mohammed. And our politicians. 

Indeed, whatever misadventure we have today can be traced to the politicians. For instance, I swear by my big head that they caused the stench and smog that enveloped Lagos last week. A “chemical weapon” that was supposed to “drug” all thinking Nigerians. Especially, journalists - (doesn’t matter if they think from left or right).

 

 It all started at the Murtala Muhammed Airport a few days before October 12. About 30 pretenders were out for a “take.” House Committee on Aviation members without the faintest idea of how to change anything.  Except, perhaps, dollars and pounds. One of them even entered an office and demanded to be shown an engine called  “runway.”

 

With them was a nondescript woman  -  the “stench-bearer.” When she opened her mouth, the journalists scampered for safety.  The stench was so strong that even Obasanjo’s picture covered its nose with the wing of its agbada. As she breathe out, a  “fog” suddenly took over the horizon. It was a “misadventure” that Ehindero should have arrested before it killed anybody. It punctured all the regard politicians ever enjoyed from journalists.

 

Staff of the Nigerian Civil Aviation Authority (NCAA) took over half of the tiny hall they provided for the meeting. Some of the so-called representatives were left standing. Hardly the fault of the journalists. But the “bush-woman” ordered the journalists to stand because they were like “okada riders.” Director-General of NCAA, Fidelis Onyeyiri, wise guy, tried to “blind” the Committee with his subservience. So they won’t dig too deep into the affairs of NCAA, he joined in calling journalists names. Both Onyeyiri and that woman-politician were “misadventures.” The sloppy-woman, so inconsequential that nobody bothered if she had a name,  claimed journalists were paid – so they shouldn’t sit.

 

Okay, I agree,  journalists are like okadamen – daring; very hardworking; part of the masses, etc. But hardly cause of the messes. I hate to shock the lawmaker, but  okadamen are humans. A doctor-friend told me they even have blood and feel hungry like politicians. Most of them are even better than some politicians – with more integrity. Some are well educated; only circumstances caused by politicians force them into commercial bike riding. They brave odds, to survive, because they have guts.  Journalists, too. 

Journalists are like okadamen, so what? But aren’t politicians like prostitutes?  Jumping from one “bed” to another for money. Belong to one party in the morning; jump to another in the afternoon. Then change again in the evening. All for money! If they implied journalists are unruly, I also agree. As unruly as politicians fighting for money in the Assembly chambers. A prostitute is never trusted. Ask Nigerians. If  two out of ten trust politicians, I would donate my grandmother to charity. 

 

Why does every idiot try to use journalists as a carpet?  Would the lawmakers ask lawyers to stand up so they could sit? And doctors? Architects? Or even artistes? Why are politicians so blind they can’t realise that journalists are professionals? Why do they expect us to lick their butts? Okay, I know. They steal; we expose. No love shared. If that should breed contempt, the rat should stop stealing the fish. Why is it so convenient for every drug dealer; money launderer; armed robber who claims to have gone legit to remember that journalists made things easier for him? 

 

Indeed, we’ve made many “things” kings. We’ve turned many dolls into idols. We’ve made personalities of nonentities. Enough of  elevating and glorifying  people who should be in jail. They always turn around to spit on us. To spite us. Because we allow them. Imagine! Every idiot lectures us how to do our job. They even write press statements and expect us to publish, unedited – free. And we do, don’t we? But, would a journalist write an acceptable legal paper? Or drug  prescription? Or design even a toilet? 

 

The woman said the journalists were paid. How much? I blame us. We’ve made ourselves so cheap by pretending we can solve the nation’s problem free. Problems we didn’t cause. While others are paid for whatever nonsense they do or say, we carry the whole burden free. Yet, when things go wrong, the media takes the first blame. And, of course, we always accept it. Check it out! Doctors bury their mistakes; lawyers lock up theirs in jailhouses; but we put ours on the front pages, abi?

 

Well, if somebody says we are not professionals, he has a point. Because we’re not charging professionals fees, yet. If we did, like other professionals, the smelly-mouthed woman and her ilk would not look down on us. Problem is the N2,000 some journalists still collect in brown envelopes. What for?  Hey! And why can’t somebody change the damn envelope to white? Or pay straight to my account, please! Are Okocha, Keyamo, etc, not humans like us? 

 

While there are social responsibilities we must perform –for the benefit of the masses - the politicians only value what they pay for. They would only respect us when they pay heavily for our services. To launder your shady image, here’s your bill, thank you. No black market. Enhen! That information you whispered about Mr. B would put you at a vantage spot when published. Your bill,  sir. And here’s my company’s account number, please. After stealing people’s money, please take ads or pay for your lies – in the interview. Instead of thinking you’re doing me a favour with your stinking N5 notes. And mouth.

 

 Some of the lawmakers have contributed nothing to our legislative process – beyond filling an empty seat in the chamber. And collecting MTN recharge card as PR. Yet, they feel more important than a toilet paper. Even if they don’t bother to think, if they asked, they would have learnt that many journalists are not exactly begging to eat. If politicians eat five times a day, some of us eat three times. If they fly by James Bond’s car, we use boats to get to our houses. Or ride the okada – which is very convenient. Oh, surprise! There are actually Nigerian journalists who live in “homes” and drive cars with four tyres.  And, we feel very proud of our little achievements -  like being able to buy a bottle of beer after work. Moreso, as we don’t steal public money – like politicians. Journalists may be like Okadamen, but politicians constitute our real misadventures.

 

• First published in Saturday Sun of  Oct 22, 2005