By Lasisi Olagunju
Adrian Louis is a witness to what popcorn does in a movie theatre. The American poet’s poems are apparently for Nigeria, a nation in eternal transition: “We gave them corn which, once popped/ into miniature buttered clouds/ gave us the opportunity to watch ourselves: / bloodthirsty, slow-thinking and grunting.”
We need lots of popcorn as we go into the new year. An Atiku Abubakar vs Bola Tinubu spar started last week over where the next president should come from and who the person should be. Tinubu’s man, George Akume, fired the first salvo. He demanded that, “President Tinubu, as a southerner, should be allowed to have a second term, meaning that those eyeing the presidency from the North in 2027 should look beyond that year by waiting till 2031.”
Almost immediately, Tinubu’s ex-friend, ex-(political) bedmate, Atiku Abubakar, came out roaring. He counter-asked that the next president must come from his part of the country, the North, and queried Akume’s sense of justice. “Where, then, does true equity and fairness reside? By the year 2027, the South will have enjoyed 17 years of leadership—eight years under Obasanjo, five years under Jonathan, and four years under Tinubu—while the North will have experienced only 11 years, with Yar’Adua serving three and Buhari eight. This results in a disparity of six years between the North and South, casting a shadow over the balance of power.” That was from Atiku Abubakar.
Tinubu’s man said that Tinubu should be the sole beneficial owner of the future. Atiku spoke about “equity and fairness”. He said, “The South will have enjoyed 17 years of leadership…” I read him two, three times and I was tempted to ask him: Did Nigeria start to exist in 1999 when his calculation started? If fairness is the talk, what would have been more equitable than starting our maths from independence, 1960? And, looking forward, why should the future be locked in for just those two lions in our jungle? Why must the future be a continuation of the story of those two who have been major (mis)writers of our democratic story since 1999? Should they forever think all others are stags, food for their lions?
People who reason that way obviously think ‘the lion’s share’ should be for the lions. Aesop, storyteller of antiquity, puts what those two think of us in perspective. The story is reproduced here verbatim as told in folklore:
A long time ago, the Lion, the Fox, the Jackal, and the Wolf agreed to go hunting together, sharing with each other whatever they found.
One day the Wolf ran down a deer and immediately called his comrades to divide the spoil.
Without being asked, the Lion placed himself at the head of the feast to do the carving, and, with a great show of fairness, began to count the guests.
“One,” he said, counting on his claws, “That is myself the Lion. Two, that’s the Wolf, three, is the Jackal, and the Fox makes four.”
He then very carefully divided the meat into four equal parts and said: “I take the first portion because of my title since I am addressed as king; the second portion you will assign to me, since I’m your partner; then because I am the strongest, the third will follow me; and an accident will happen to anyone who touches the fourth.” The other animals kept quiet – they dared not talk, and got nothing for their efforts; the king of the jungle took all the benefits. That is the meaning of might; it is always right. It is also the root of ‘the lion’s share’ as an English expression.
Thomas Grey Wicker was an American political reporter and columnist. He spent a large chunk of his 85 years on earth reporting and writing books. He wrote ‘Facing the Lions’ – a political novel published in 1973. Before then, he wrote ‘The Kingpin’; he wrote ‘The Devil Must’; he wrote ‘The Judgment.’ Then he wrote ‘A Time to Die.’ He wrote many more books, three of them under the pseudonym ‘Paul Connolly.’ But it is to his ‘Facing the Lions’ I turn in discussing Tinubu and Atiku and their ambition to be boss forever. Charmaine Allmon Mosby’s ‘Among the Dog Eaters’, an excellent review of the novel, makes it easy for me to use Wicker here. I encounter in their character Bull Durham Anderson, a political leader who “plays upon the emotions of the masses for power, profit, and place…” and who “does not mind if the ends are contaminated by the means…” Mosby is surprised that the man “frankly admitted misuse of his power, and yet the voters repeatedly returned him to office…” Why? We ask that question here also in Nigeria. The answer may come tomorrow.
This and several other quotes from that novel could well have come from the page of an irreverent Nigerian newspaper columnist: “I’ve known men with good sense otherwise that would swear on the Bible that if (Anderson) stole a dollar he gave ten back in hell to the corporation…” At the man’s death, his son excuses everything he did; he says that his dad was merely “a man like you and me.” Then, he concludes that: “Every vicious thing he did, every law he broke, every man he bought and cheated and ruined, all that power he used for his own ends, the barnyard of corruption he made out of this state – just like it says on there, he was always a man. He did the things men do.”
Why should the next election be about Tinubu and Atiku again? When is rape enough? For daring to ask those questions, I will be asked to shut up and will be reminded that Atiku and Tinubu are doing with our democracy “things men do.” Their men think they are our husbands, and so, whatever they do with us, we are stuck with them just as Wicker’s world is to Durham Anderson. We wait to see. But, perhaps, more immediate is that in the new year, we need lots of popcorn in our theatre. There will be drama – comedy, tragedy, and a combination of both; a salad bowl of claps and raps.
