Politics is a game of the people, by the people and for the people who have motion.
—Abraham Lincoln, probably.
The events of the past month or so have shown beyond any doubt that there are still people in this country who do not understand what it takes to win an election in Nigeria. As the saying goes, my people perish because they lack knowledge.
Many of the losing candidates and their supporters, failing to grasp what you need to do to win a simple primary election, are the ones screaming about irregularities. They fail to realise that to win an election in Nigeria, you need motion, just not the kind Isaac Newton was talking about. From where I sit, I see no irregularities. But for the sake of public interest, I’ll be sharing from my wealth of experience.
So without further ado, let us begin.
1. Solid oratory skills
As an aspirant, you cannot afford to be a mediocre public speaker. Politicians who know how to win treat every public appearance as a potential mic-drop moment. The people of this country do not necessarily care what you have to say. They care that it sounds profound enough to be printed on a campaign poster and vague enough to mean absolutely nothing.
Whether your quote is communist, capitalist, xenophobic, inciting, bigoted, revolutionary, or copied from a WhatsApp broadcast message is largely irrelevant. If it rhymes, the people shall arise.
It is a country where people starve, after all. Your food for thought must be something they can actually chew on.
2. Winning spirit
Winning an election, and by extension any race in life, requires more than just confidence and optimism. Any random person can possess those qualities. Rather, you have to go the extra mile to seize your moment. This is the x factor that separates winners from losers.
True winning spirit means refusing to be distracted by trivial matters such as inflation, insecurity, unemployment, collapsing infrastructure, public outrage, kidnappings, or the occasional national crisis. Giving in is for the weaker mind. If you give in, your opponents will be able to capitalise on the situation and you can’t afford to let that happen.
You see, the great statesman remains focused on the prize. While ordinary people worry about governance, visionary leaders worry about the next election.
3. Generosity
To win an election, you can’t afford to be tightfisted. You must give freely. But you must also give purposefully. Whatever you give out must meet a particular need. For instance, you could donate three yards of clothing imprinted with your face and your party logo to people who have been displaced due to insecurity. In your limitless generosity, you can donate three congos of rice that will last for four years to your jobless, hungry constituents. You could even donate underwear that has your face imprinted on it, so they love you intimately.
For your party leaders and stakeholders, you need to give enough so they know you’re the son or daughter they never had. You’re not necessarily corrupting internal party structures; you’re just helping them see the truth in your mandate.
Come election day, you could even decide to empower voters who turn out with some cash. (This is not vote buying. It’s empowerment!) For as little as five thousand naira, you can secure the loyalty of a voter for an entire afternoon. The beautiful thing is you don’t have to pay these people again for another four years.
4. A (good) track record
Your track record must be as long as the Nile is long. You cannot win a race without having a good track record, really. While some would argue about the need for a relevant, well-vetted and feasible manifesto, it is important to let them know that you are a doer and not a talker.
So, instead, you tell them about the offices you’ve occupied since you were born. Your accomplishments in these offices don’t matter. Just the fact that you’ve occupied these offices is enough. Trust me, the average Nigerian voter does not care about who has the technical know-how or innovative workaround for their problems. Instead, they care about how long you’ve been in the game.
As for accomplishments, especially if you’ve previously held a political office, you could show them the things you’ve done, like the bicycles you bought for the handicapped kids, the emergency centre you’ve been renovating over the course of the past four years, and the youth empowerment centre you still haven’t completed since ‘08.
These are the things you’ll point to when you’re campaigning. Your campaign slogan should effectively be: Imagine what I could achieve if you gave me another four years
5. Religion
In this part of the world, practising a religion is evidence of virtue and also a campaign strategy. Just to be safe, you could enable the three-factor authentication—go to a mosque on Friday, to church on Sunday and then pay a courtesy visit to Professor Fajemilohun’s shrine before major rallies.
This way, you will be able to invoke and encourage your followers to pray instead of clamouring for such ridiculous, flimsy things as social infrastructure and civil rights. Since God is the great provider, religion will help you get them to turn to Him instead.
Religiosity provides protection against the evil eye, foreign saboteurs, opposition parties, enemies of progress, and whichever previous administration you intend to blame for your own mistakes
6. Foot soldiers
This is a most important and absolutely crucial factor. To win an election, you need people who will make your victory their life’s mission. Every serious politician requires an army of digital warriors whose sole responsibility is explaining why every mistake was actually a masterstroke. You don’t even have to pay most of them. These guys will fight for you virtually and in person.
You will also need muscular gentlemen to stand on your mandate at the polling centres, not to disrupt but to protect your God-given right to rule. Fortunately, youth unemployment ensures that recruitment rarely becomes a challenge.
If you think these suggestions are rubbish, feel free to test your theory by contesting an election and doing the exact opposite of everything I have recommended. Should the cost of a nomination form prove inconvenient, a PVC is a cheaper alternative. Whatever you decide, however, will not affect the gold medal I won at the World Sarcasm Championship in Ethiopia in 2001.
Oluwagbenga Kolawole loves reading, writing and satirising political and social issues. When he’s not doing that, he’s blowing bubbles and fighting crime. He writes from Abeokuta, Nigeria.
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