Pouring Sand on Ehindero’s Cake

 

 

As a village boy, I was very careful. I never fought in  school. Only outside the  headmaster’s office. But then, I never  made the mistake of using my hands. Mouth was always better. And it helped the hands stay clean. One important trick, however, was that there had to be a serious understanding between the legs and the mouth. It could be a tragedy if the mouth “runs” faster than the legs.

 

My kid-sister made that mistake a few times. She insulted me often, but her legs weren’t as fast as her mouth. I soon got to her in twenty snail strides. And she wept like Gani at Oputa Panel. The only person that saved her was my dad. “Stupid boy! If you see your mate, can you fight?” I never answered. Because my only mate in that village was a big dog called “Tiger.” Daddy hated bullies. But then, he also hated insults. So he turned to my sister: “ You! Your ability to use the mouth should match your ability to use the hands –o!” Or something like that. Lesson No 1: Never start a fight you can’t finish.

 

After the “low keyed” noisy 45^th Independence Anniversary, I was exhausted. And confused. Especially after General Obasanjo’s speech. Tuesday morning, I managed to stir gently, careful not to stretch - an act punishable by body aches. As I abandoned my mat, I suddenly realised that I was alive. My eyes were wide open - a condition many interpret as wakefulness. Just then, I heard Ojuelegba ( in Lagos) was “boiling.” Police and soldiers were busy destroying public and private property at the expense of the common man. Quickly, I went to town and with the help of a friendly police officer, tried to find out what happened. All the men in uniform smelt of ‘something.’ And answered questions with questions. For instance: Who did the boiling, the cooking, or whatever? 

1^st Policeman: Sir? Me, Sir? I didn’t boil anything - o. All I wanted was N20. Well, the foolish man said he was a soldier in a civilian cloth, but we told him that was an offence. Why must a soldier wear a civilian cloth when civilians are not allowed to wear army cloth, anyway? 

 

Me: Constable, why did you beat the soldier?

 

2^nd Policeman: Watza quession? Me eat suya? Ehnn! Na true say I eat am suya well, well becos I like am suya, well well.

 

Me: No. no, no. Why did you people beat up, harass or flog the army man?

 

2^nd Policeman: Okay, you mean to flog am soja? Ah! Mistake! De man no efen gettam for facial mark like dem soldiers of before. On top, e dey smell gbaraga. We suspect say im dey go short our ration for Mama Buki place. Serious offence, dat. Daz why we fight am, sa! Shon Sa!

 

Me: Okay now, soldiers, at ease! Who did the boiling and the cooking of Ojuelegba?

 

1^st Soldier: Me cook or boil; or what did you say? I have three wives, ten children and five concubines. They are the ones who cook. But not in Ojuelegba.

Me: OC, who burnt Area ‘C’ Police Barracks and all those cars?

 

2^nd Soldier: Oh, na dat one you de talk? Who be Barak? E – tell you say na me be im papa? No bi me born barracks; na only nine pikins I born.

 

Me: Who set fire to the barracks?

 

1^st Soldier: I swear, I didn’t set any fire, I only pour petrol and I didn’t even know that a cigarette litter was in my pocket. I only saw it after I struck a match.

 

Me: But why ‘strike’ anything? Didn’t you hear General Obasanjo saying peaceful protests have replaced ‘violent strikes’?

 

1^st Soldier: “Well, everybody is talking about democracy dividend without considering our feelings. How often do we go on strike? So, what’s wrong if I ‘strike’ just one match? Soldiers need action, like going to Zaki Biam; Odi, or even Iraq. We are trained to be restless. That’s why Obasanjo travels often. Send us to stop the imminent eruption at Lake Nyos, if you like. You see, the only action we are used to now is too monotonous - raping young girls.”

 

One achievement of this government is that it has “empowered” the police. Ask Baba and his spin doctors. We’ve heard of democracy dividends like “peaceful protests, fuel price increase,” etc. The police even got a commendation for “wonderful work.” Of harassing the citizens and killing a few, perhaps. But nothing was said about the police’s ability to confront the lions in the den. I heard the scriptwriter got a query for skipping  that vital point in the anniversary address. Now, the police are so “powerful” that they can even fight the Navy under the water. Using only baton, of course.

 

A short while ago, they tackled the Airmen. And a few cracked heads were left behind. Now, the clash with the Army-men has shown how “mature” our democracy and security agencies are. Policemen saw their “mates” but they couldn’t fight. They even ran and left their guns, wives, kids, exhibits and gbaraga. Now, every time they remind me that I need a NAFDAC number for my spare tyre, I’d remember my dad’s question. “If you see your mate, can you fight?” But since I am a coward, I’d only say it out in my bathroom. 

 

Mr Sunday Ehindero has just been confirmed IGP. Though I heard none of those big letters stands for ‘integrity.’ Well, I was just about commending the man, when somebody poured “sand sand” on his promotion cake. At least, he has shown us that policemen can participate in protests without ‘discharging accidentally.’ I’m still investigating how he did it, but I suspect something already. 

 

Journalist: Sir, can you tell us why the police did not fire even a shot during the fuel protest?

 

Police Armourer: “Very simple. We have learnt our lessons. Shooting protesters is a waste of good economic opportunities. In this era of poverty alleviation, we are taught to be self-reliant. So, to preserve our ‘integrity,’ we sold all the bullets to robbers.”

 

Whenever there’s a clash of the uniforms, it’s the civilians that suffer the greatest casualties. Again, that was the case in the Police/Army needless fight. 

Okay, so the police provoked a depressed, sleepy army. But what was the offence of the cars and the barracks that the soldiers destroyed? If I ever hear any soldier or policeman cry for salary increase, I would set his mustache on fire. If he has any. Or seize his bottle of gbaraga. Nonsense! If I quarrel with my brother, I don’t have to urinate on my mother to prove how angry I am. Or should I? I’d rather ‘piss’ on the bed, thank you! 

 

• First published in Saturday Sun of  Oct 08, 2005