… where sa-tyres never go flat
… where sa-tyres never go flat
You guessed right!
I am a Nigerian politician
A proud member of the noble profession of politics
Where we weave our dreams on your backs
After all, we’re the champions of the masses and paragons of virtue
The landscape of journalism and media ownership has taken a dramatic turn, steering the media away from its once-independent stance. Independence is so last season; being a puppet has never been so chic.
We are glad to see that so many of you could make it. About ten or twenty of you were kidnapped on their way here, but their parents are already busy gathering the ransom, so there is nothing to be scared of. That’s why we keep telling them to fly rather than drive, but some people prefer the road scenery to their lives. Shameful.
Even Amaka is married now. She got married during that eight-month-long strike, a new record for ASUU if you ask me, and she is already an expecting mother. She sent me an invite, but I was too busy trying to work my way to Yankee. Believe it or not, even I caught the japa syndrome. Almost all of our friends have fled for ‘greener pastures’ in another man’s land. It’s funny really.
It shouldn’t still be possible to listen to music with misogynistic messages without being worried about the kind of messages they could possibly be putting out there, especially as stories have feet that travel farther than a Nigerian politician’s thirst for a second tenure.
Do not hold your breath for the Army or any of the numerous special forces we have either. Military intervention, like all things in Nigeria, can only be accessed through premium citizenship. Your surname does not ring a bell, so good luck.
Ah, Nigeria, a kaleidoscope of cultures, a mosaic of many, a land of… well, let’s just say it’s a bit of a mixed bag. It’s like a tapestry woven by a well-meaning but slightly distracted artist. You know, the kind who starts off with a grand design in mind but gets sidetracked by the odd loose thread here and there.
We are not living in penury, nor are we desperate to pay off our token debts. What some people call poverty is just an economic condition where some 133 million people have food but no mouth to put it. What some puppet experts call high debt is just a penny for chicken feed. What others call insecurity on the roads — where we intend to ostentatiously joyride our SUVs while minding our business — are just minor incidents. What naysayers describe as terrorism can be settled overnight once we mount our SUVs to the front line. What
Were you dumped or did you do the dumping? Do you want them back or do you never want to see them again? Are you happy, sad, or you’re just caught in between? It doesn’t matter; there’s a song for you.
“UP NEPA,” like Nigerians usually chorus when the light comes on after a week or more of blackout, shows the love and understanding between her citizens and electricity providers. If not for love, why would you hail them? There would’ve been light 24/7, but the love will fade over time and neither NEPA nor its customers will have reasons to visit each other as they do now. And the switcher who flicks the lights on and off will become bored of his job.
